by Dan Scottow
‘She was a lovely girl. I know all parents probably say that about their daughters… but Claire truly was.’ She doesn’t look at Lucy as she talks. Continues to watch the birds through the window.
‘She was kind. She was beautiful. And so bright too… she could have achieved anything she wanted to. We saw her as a blessing. Richard and I had tried for so long to have a child. We’d given up, really. But then when we stopped trying… along came Claire.’
She laughs. The sound brings a smile to Lucy’s face.
‘It must have been difficult… losing her.’
Diana’s eyes drift towards the floor.
‘I wasn’t entirely honest about her disappearance. I find it difficult to talk about. It was all so awful, the days leading up to her going missing. There’s a lot of guilt on my part. She’d had an argument with Richard, you see. It was… delicate. She thought her father was having an affair. Had come by a photograph of him with another woman.’
Diana pauses, her eyes drifting away from Lucy momentarily.
‘He was. Richard had… many affairs… but how do you explain to your child that you’re willing to turn a blind eye to these indiscretions? These betrayals. Those were my choices, but she would never understand them. So we denied it. Unfortunately, there was no convincing her. We saw her the day she disappeared. She came to the house; I’d engineered a meeting between them to try to get the whole mess sorted once and for all. It didn’t go as I had planned. She refused to speak to him.’
The kettle boils. Lucy pours two cups, passing one to Diana.
‘They both became angry… it was quite heated. Richard was never the best at keeping his head. And Claire was her father’s daughter. All I could do was watch as it escalated.’ She pauses, her eyes glazing.
‘Anyway… she left. It was terrible. And that was the last time we ever saw her.’
‘Diana, I am so sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine…’
Diana’s eyes flick up to Lucy, then away nervously.
‘There’s more. If I were to say the name Christopher Kernick to you, would you know who I was talking about?’
Lucy looks blankly back at her, but a sudden flash of recognition crosses the girl’s face.
‘The Butcher?’
Diana nods solemnly.
‘I remember it. Women were terrified to leave their homes. It was awful.’
‘He killed nine girls in total… that we know of. Mainly prostitutes, or homeless. Drug addicts. People he knew wouldn’t be missed… until the bodies turned up. Claire was the exception. I’ll never understand why he chose her. She was nothing like the others. But she was his final victim.’
Lucy gasps, as her hand flies towards her mouth.
‘They never found her body, but apparently, they didn’t need to. The evidence against him was overwhelming. Traces of her blood on his clothing, and more in the boot of his car. They worked together, Claire and Kernick. He was seemingly infatuated with her. He’d asked her out on a few occasions, but she’d declined. She said something about him scared her.’
Diana gives a small, humourless laugh. ‘There’s a lot to be said for a woman’s intuition. She’d told us about him in passing… the guy at work who wouldn’t take no for an answer, but we thought it was funny more than anything else. We never imagined that he would…’ She pauses, unable to bring herself to say it. A single tear trickles down her cheek from her milky eye.
‘The only blessing is she never got to see the horrors that her parents became.’ She blows on her tea, sipping it.
‘My mother always said don’t let the sun go down on an argument and never allow a loved one to leave after words of anger. I used to laugh at her, call her crazy… roll my eyes. But she was right. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. There isn’t a day that passes where I don’t regret those last moments we spent with our daughter. How much I wish things could have been different. But it’s pointless dwelling. What’s done is done.’
Lucy continues to fold the laundry, watching Diana.
‘I’m so sorry. It must be hard enough to lose a child… but to know she was a victim to that psychopath…’ She trails off, glancing through the window.
Diana nods.
‘It was horrendous. You can’t begin to imagine… but I take solace from knowing they caught him, and that he will spend the rest of his life behind bars.’ She pauses, raising her hand to her bare throat.
‘That’s what I was doing yesterday in the utility room. I was looking for the necklace. It was hers. He gave it to her. I know that may sound odd, but it reminds me. It reminds me to never let my guard down, and never underestimate people. You never know what anyone is capable of. It also reminds me of Claire. It’s all I have left of her really.’
She gazes out into the garden, watching a butterfly that patters against the windowpane. It dances around a while, before fluttering away towards the water. A smile flashes fleetingly across her lips.
‘I wasn’t always like this. A recluse, I mean. I used to love company. Had a wonderful circle of friends. A fantastic existence. Richard and I travelled. God, did we travel. We made the most of life. I know you see a sad, crazy old woman who keeps herself hidden away from the world. But I’ve had more than my fair share of hardships. I find it… easier this way.’
Lucy opens her mouth to say something, probably some nicety, assuring Diana that she is talking nonsense. But Diana has overheard enough gossip on her rare trips into civilisation, to know what people think about her.
‘Don’t. You don’t need to contradict me. I’m not looking for sympathy, or compliments. I’m simply trying to explain to you. Although I still have Richard, it feels as if I lost him in the accident. Sometimes I wish…’ She stops herself, shaking her head.
‘If Claire were here, things would be easier. That’s all. I wouldn’t feel so alone.’
Another tear rolls down Diana’s cheek, changing its track as it bumps over the rough, spidery tendrils of her scar.
‘So many regrets…’ she trails off.
Lucy picks up the pile. ‘I’ll put this in your room for you,’ she says, hurrying from the kitchen, leaving Diana staring after her, alone with her thoughts.
56
Lucy
She heads into Diana’s room, placing the laundry on the dresser. As she begins to place it away into drawers, she notices a picture lying face down on the top. She lifts it.
Rose, crouching behind Diana and Richard. Smiling her huge, beautiful smile. Diana looks… happy. Lucy almost doesn’t recognise her.
The glass in the frame is smashed, splinters remain around the edges.
She frowns, placing it upright on the unit, and continues to put the clothes away. Picking up an empty cup and plate, she turns to see Diana in the hall. She walks into Richard’s room, closing the door behind her. Lucy creeps down the corridor, stopping outside. She hears Diana’s voice from inside, muffled. It sounds like she’s crying. Lucy holds her breath, gently pressing her ear against the wood.
She can only make out intermittent words.
‘…Claire… and I just wish… know that we… but I want… Claire… loss… regret it… your fault!’
There’s a slapping sound.
Lucy steps back. The plate slips from her fingers, shattering onto the floorboards.
Eyes darting from side to side, she takes a sidestep into the kitchen as she hears Diana’s stick click-clacking across the floor.
Ducking down, she crouches beside the units as Richard’s door opens.
‘Lucy?’ Diana calls.
There’s a crunch as Diana steps forward, her shoe grinding the smashed porcelain into hard wood.
‘What the devil… Lucy?’
Her stick beats the ground as Diana heads towards the bottom of the stairs. Lucy crawls behind the island unit, pressing her back against the cabinet doors. Diana returns along the hall.
‘Lucy?’ she calls, a hint of fear now lacing her voice.
The cane clicks
across tiles. There’s a noise from above. Glancing up, she sees the stick resting on the worktop, poking slightly proud of the edge over her head.
Diana limps slowly to the wall. Lucy can’t tell what she’s doing at first, but then hears the sound of the china being swept into a pile. Diana lets the broom clatter to the floor, inches from Lucy. She retrieves her stick and hobbles down the hall to her bedroom, slamming the door.
The girl waits, barely wanting to breathe. When she’s sure Diana isn’t returning, she stands from her hiding place. She eyes the pile of china, swept messily inside the kitchen, as she enters Richard’s room. He sits in his chair, back towards the window. He looks… odd. His shirt is torn. There are drops of blood on his chest, seeping into the fabric.
As she steps nearer, she sees his nose is bleeding, his cheek is red. She unbuttons his shirt, pulling it from his flabby body. The bruises are healing a little better now, looking more yellow. Less angry.
She dabs at his face, wiping the blood away, grabs a thin mauve cable-knit sweater from the wardrobe and redresses him. Stroking his cheek with her thumb, she leans her face close to his. His eyes wobble from side to side.
‘Why was it your fault, Richard? Is there more to the story? Did you say something so terrible to Claire that it drove her into the arms of her killer?’ She tilts her head to one side, and straightens, heading back out to the hall, closing the door behind her.
57
Lucy
It rained overnight, leaving a musty smell in the air. As Lucy trudges through the woods, avoiding large patches of wet mud, she sniffs, screwing up her face. She left the bike in the outhouse today, thinking it would be easier on foot. Brushing against huge ferns, droplets of water transfer to her jeans, making them damp. She recognises a small footbridge across a stream and knows she is getting close. She pulls her phone from her pocket. One bar appears on her signal. She pushes forwards, past clumps of St John’s Wort, its green berries starting to turn red.
Holding her arm out at full length, the bars jump up. The handset begins to ping and buzz as emails and messages flow into her inboxes. Mostly junk. She wouldn’t expect anything else.
Smiling, she opens up a web browser, typing Claire Davenport into a search engine. A plethora of results fill her screen. She scrolls down, eyes darting back and forth.
The Butcher caught!
Christopher Kernick charged with murder of artists’ daughter.
Reign of terror is finally over.
Lucy scans the stories, clicking on each one, drinking in the details.
It was much as Diana had said. Kernick, a colleague of Claire’s had been infatuated with her. They had been friendly, but Claire dropped the friendship after he showed some worrying behaviour, according to her mother. He had turned up at her house in the middle of the night, on more than one occasion. Her room-mate had to call the police to get rid of him. Although he has always denied playing any part in Claire’s disappearance or death, large amounts of her blood and hairs were discovered in the boot of his Mondeo. Police had also found overalls, stained with her blood, and containing her DNA, hidden at the back of his garage, along with evidence linking him to the murders of eight other women.
Lucy furrows her brow as she reads this detail. She remembers what it was like when the killer was at large. The police had been stumped, because he was so meticulous. Each body was devoid of anything that could tie anyone to the crimes.
She clicks on a photograph of Christopher. She knows the face well from when he was caught. He was on the front of every newspaper at the time. A handsome lad. Rugby player’s build. Nice eyes. Kind smile. Definitely not what you would expect. She zooms in on the grainy picture, shaking her head. He certainly doesn’t look like a cold-blooded serial rapist and killer.
Finding an interview with his sister, Lucy sets herself down on a large slab of quartz protruding from the moss-covered ground.
Melanie Kernick claims that her brother had been framed. She insists emphatically he is a gentle giant who would never hurt anyone. She also claims he had been over Claire for some time, and that stories of his stalking had been grossly exaggerated. When asked who would frame him, she has no opinions, but contends that her brother had no enemies. Everyone who meets him adores him.
But the evidence against him was too great. He’s currently serving a life sentence in HMP Manchester, previously Strangeways.
She finds another story, from the day Kernick was sentenced. There’s a wide angle shot outside the court. Diana and Richard stand with a suited official, looking sad. Crowds mill around. Something in the background catches her eye.
She spreads her fingers across the screen, zooming in. Squinting, she zooms again, and gasps as she focuses on the blurry face. It’s small, and not completely in focus, but she knows exactly who it is. He’s clean-shaven, younger, of course, but it’s unmistakable. Lurking in the background, watching.
Mylo.
She narrows her eyes, tilting her head to one side. Diana is obviously convinced that Kernick is guilty. The whole country was at the time. You can’t argue with the evidence after all.
But seeing Mylo lingering in the background at court troubles Lucy immensely.
‘Why were you there, Mylo?’ she says out loud, tapping her phone screen.
58
Lucy
The following day, Lucy returns from a walk to find Diana sitting in the garden, drinking a glass of white wine. Her eyes have that vacant, glazed look that Lucy has come to know well. She makes herself a coffee and takes a seat beside her.
‘Did you ever meet Christopher Kernick?’ Lucy asks nonchalantly, as if she is talking about the weather, or some other trivial subject. The colour drains from the woman’s face. She hesitates before responding.
‘No,’ she says, matter-of-factly, leaving it there.
But Lucy isn’t prepared to let it drop that easily.
‘I was reading up on the case. I hope you don’t mind. Our conversation had me intrigued.’
No reply.
‘I see that it was you who initially alerted the police to his… interest in Claire.’
‘It was not an interest. It was an infatuation!’
‘I see. Claire told you this?’
She avoids Lucy’s eyes, stares down at her hands, fidgeting.
‘Yes,’ she responds eventually. Her voice wavers, betraying her statement.
‘It must have been terrible for Claire… being stalked like that.’
‘That man made her life a misery. He turned up at her house at all hours, refused to leave. She hated going to work because she had to see him. He caused a great deal of anxiety in the last few precious months of her life, and then he ended that life, in what we can only assume was a terrible, and terrifying ordeal for her. And to add insult to injury, he has never had the courtesy to reveal where her body is. Never given us… closure.’
Diana sounds odd, more like she is reciting a learned passage rather than speaking from the heart. Her voice quietens towards the end. Lucy doesn’t like dragging up the past in such a clearly painful way. She’s never been one for hurting people unnecessarily. But she feels a desire to hear Diana’s side.
‘Yeah. That was odd, wasn’t it?’ Lucy asks.
Diana frowns.
‘He dumped all the other bodies in woodland. Why was Claire’s never found?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps he was caught before he had a chance to… dispose of her.’
‘You’re sure of his guilt?’
Her head whips around.
‘Of course I am sure! The evidence… if you’ve been “reading up on the case”, as you say, you’ll be aware of what they found.’
‘Yes. I’m aware. It struck me as odd, though, that’s all.’
‘What did?’
‘That he would keep the bloodstained overalls in his garage, along with the other evidence, linking him to the other girls. I mean… I’m no expert, but if it were me, I’d have destroyed those. Burn
ed them. And to just leave blood in the boot of his car like that? Wouldn’t he have at least tried to clean it up? I know it would have shown up with that luminol stuff anyway, but he didn’t even make any attempt to hide it. Why? It’s almost as if he wanted to get caught.’
Diana fiddles with her fringe, splaying it out across her forehead, stroking the strands of her braid.
‘Perhaps he did. He claims he was besotted with her. Maybe he was so consumed with guilt that he wanted to be found out. Who knows? Maybe he was racked with guilt over the other killings. Perhaps he wanted it all to end, but he wasn’t strong enough to stop. The man was not well… mentally. I think he was beyond behaving in a rational way.’
Lucy shrugs.
‘His sister was adamant that he wasn’t in love with Claire. She said he had moved on… was even involved with someone new.’
‘She would say that. She’d have said anything if she thought it would get him off.’ Diana purses her lips, continuing, ‘And the new girl he was seeing… one of Claire’s friends from work. A very thinly veiled attempt to make her jealous if you ask me.’
‘He doesn’t look like a killer. I remember that from the time. A lot of people were surprised. He wasn’t what anyone was expecting.’
‘And what, pray tell, does a killer look like?’ The hint of a smile creeps onto Diana’s lips.
‘I don’t mean it like that… I mean… he looked nice.’
Diana shakes her head, letting out a sigh.
‘Never judge a book by its cover,’ she says, a knowing tone to her voice.
Lucy lingers, wondering how to tackle the next subject. Diana shoots her a look.
‘Spit it out then. There’s obviously something else you want to say… so say it and stop standing there like a lemon!’
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Did you think it was odd that Mylo happened to turn up at the house the other day, right at the moment that something strange had happened?’
