Dark Water: A gripping serial killer thriller

by Robert Bryndza

‘In my defence, when Marianne Collins pulled out the knife, I had officers on the scene immediately…’

  ‘It happened on the steps of your police station, which is manned from anything between five and fifty uniformed officers each day, don’t give me bullshit,’ said Camilla, losing her cool. Erika opened her mouth, but didn’t know what to say. ‘On those same steps where Superintendent Yale launched his knife crime initiative and knife amnesty.’

  Camilla put her glasses back on. Erika opened her mouth to speak, but she put her hand up.

  ‘I’m in no doubt of what a good officer you are, but we now have the media spotlight firmly on a tricky case. Do you believe that Joel Michaels is a potential suspect?’

  ‘Yes. I also believe we could still find a link between Marksman, Michaels and Bob Jennings. I would like to put forward that we exhume Jennings’ body.’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ said Camilla. ‘I would like more evidence than a hunch before we go down that road. And after twenty-six years underground what would you expect to find?’

  ‘Toxicology, and evidence of broken bones, foul play which could prove that he didn’t commit suicide.’

  ‘And then what? The forensic evidence would be negligible and forensics have already been over the cottage and found virtually nothing.’

  ‘We found a tooth, and if the tooth belonged to Jennings.’

  ‘It could mean it was knocked out, or it fell out. People who spend their time squatting in abandoned properties aren’t prized for their oral hygiene…’

  ‘Ma’am I believe that Bob Jennings saw something the night Jessica was dumped in the quarry, and I believe that he was killed to keep him from identifying who it was.’

  ‘It’s not enough to believe. You need to back it up with hard evidence. Nothing annoys me more that people using their beliefs to justify their actions… How can you prove anything right now, short of building a time machine and going back?’

  Erika stood in front of her and wanted the ground to swallow her up.

  ‘Now I’m going to leave you on this case for the time being, whilst I look for a suitable replacement. Perhaps this will work in your favor. It seems when the chips are down you deliver results.’

  * * *

  When the meeting was over, Marsh caught up with Erika at the lifts.

  ‘It could have been worse,’ he said.

  ‘How could that have gone any worse?’ she said turning to him.

  ‘It could have been Oakley.’

  ‘I could deal with Assistant Commissioner Oakley. He was a bigoted old git. He rose to the bait, I could out smart him. She’s… She’s bloody good.’

  ‘Yes. Speaking as your friend and not your superior officer for a moment, she does make my testicles leap into my abdomen.’

  The lift doors opened and they got in. Marsh pressed the button for the ground floor and Erika felt her stomach lurch as they zoomed down the twelve floors of the New Scotland yard building.

  ‘This is the first case where I feel…’

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘Where I feel I’m not going to solve it.’ Marsh looked as if he was going to put his arm around her, but the lift came to a stop and a group of officers got in. Erika turned to the wall and tried to keep her emotions under control.

  When they came out onto the road outside New Scotland Yard the sky was threatening rain, again.

  ‘I keep going back to that day, all those years ago, August 7th,’ said Erika. ‘I keep looking at the witness statements, of the hundreds of people who were in the area, the remaining neighbours. How can one little girl have gone missing?’

  ‘Children go missing all the time, every day in every country,’ said Marsh, buttoning up his coat again the cold wind. ‘She was white and middle-class with blond hair. Did you see all the missing child reports Isaac went through to match the dental records?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Seventeen children went missing in Kent during 1990. Four of them were found alive, another two were found dead. But nine of them remain missing.’

  ‘So you’re saying this is linked?’

  ‘What I’m saying is that this wasn’t an isolated incident. The media grabbed hold of it, and pulled at our heart strings, and quite rightly too. Just don’t look on your inability to solve this as a personal failure.’

  ‘That’s all very easy to say, but I only thing I can do is this. I’m not a wife, I’ll never be a mother. This is my life.’

  ‘And what happens in ten or twelve years when you retire? You need to find a place for yourself in the world in addition to the job.’

  It started to rain and he grinned and walked off. ‘Keep in touch,’ he said without turning back.

  Erika pulled her collar up and made for the car park.

  44

  DI Crawford had phoned Amanda Baker several times over the past couple of days. He had let her know that the Trevor Marksman videos were uploaded to HOLMES, and he also told her about the police bringing in Joel Michaels, and shared that much of the team had their doubts about him.

  She had watched them with interest, in particular the video of Jessica playing in the park and of Marianne and Laura on the two occasions that they were together in the background.

  had watched the chaos unfold in the news. She always had the nightly news recorded on her Sky + box and, so was able to watch it over several times. She felt pleased for Marianne, everything had been taken from her, and being able to vent her emotions on a grand scale must have been cathartic, she thought.

  When she watched it back the third time, she noticed Laura stood by the kerb a little way from her mother. She had such a strange look on her face, and what was she doing, she was shaking her head. She remembered the terrible arguments that Marianne and Laura had in the days after Jessica vanished. Marianne never gave the girl a break, criticising her. Nancy Greene would often report back that Marianne was spinning out of control and she was taking out her frustration on the one daughter she still had.

  Amanda settled back down in her chair and ran the segment back and watched it again. She turned up the volume, and saw the moment where Marianne brought out the knife. The sound was poor and her voice sounded reedy against the traffic and sounds from the street, but she heard Marianne shout,

  ‘She was mine! She was mine and you took her!’ as she lunged at Marksman with the knife. The camera moved round and caught Laura, and again she was shaking her head.

  ‘Why the hell would she come with her mother, and then shake her head. Did she know that she’d brought a knife with her? She should either join in with the shouting or look shocked…’ said Amanda to herself. She leaned over and topped up her glass from a bottle on the floor beside her feet. She tipped it up to get the last of the dregs and wound the video back. She watched it again, Marianne lunge for Trevor and then the camera moving round to Laura shaking her head in disagreement. And then it hit her,

  ‘Jesus christ,’ she said. ‘That’s it!’

  45

  Erika had decided to visit Marianne and when she arrived at 7 Avondale Road, there was a short round faced woman at the door with a grey haired man with a camera slung around his neck. The chain was on the front door and a voice was telling them to go away.

  Erika pulled out her ID.

  ‘This is private property. Who are you?’ she asked.

  ‘Eva Castle, Daily Mail,’ said the woman. ‘We’re only asking to get her mother’s side of the story…’

  ‘NO!’ said the voice through the chain, which Erika realised was Laura.

  ‘Love, your Mum slashed a local paedophile with a knife in public, this is always going to be in your favour but it’s a chance to get your side of the story,’ said Eva leaning into the gap.

  ‘Come on, piss off,’ said Erika. The photographer lifted his camera and started to fire off some pictures in her face. Erika reached out and pushed the lens down.

  ‘Police brutality?’ he said with a glint in his eye. His voice had a high raspy reg
ister.

  ‘I could arrest you for harassment, both of you. You’re on private property. I’d make sure they take up most of the day processing you, taking DNA swabs for our database, the works. I’ll also confiscate your camera. What with all our glorious bureaucracy, you wouldn’t get it back for quite some time,’ said Erika.

  There was a brief stand-off where Erika and the photographer refused to budge.

  ‘Come on Dave,’ said Eva. ‘S’not worth it…’

  Erika stared them down as they moved off and up the driveway, she then turned and knocked on the front door. After a moment it opened a little, and Laura’s face stared through the gap.

  ‘Can I come in and talk?’ asked Erika. Laura’s eyes flitted from side to side then she relented and opened the door. The house was still and silent, and a clock chimed from upstairs.

  ‘Can I talk to your mum? We haven’t been able to get a statement from her.’

  ‘She’s upstairs. The doctor gave her something to sleep.’

  ‘How long ago was that?’

  ‘He’s just left, she’s going to be out for hours…’

  ‘Ok. Can I talk to you?’

  ‘What about?’ asked Laura her face sagging fearfully. She was dressed in tight blue jeans and a white blouse tucked in at the waist, showing off an enviable figure. Her face was bare and free of the heavy makeup, and Erika was shocked how old she looked without it, much older than her 44 years.

  ‘Please, just for a moment.’

  Laura led Erika through the hallway to the kitchen.

  ‘Would you like tea?’ asked Laura. Erika smiled and nodded. She moved and filled the kettle, and her hands were shaking.

  ‘I wanted to ask who tipped you off about Trevor Marskman being in town?’

  ‘Mum had a phone call,’ said Laura placing the kettle down.

  ‘And who was the phone call from?’ asked Erika.

  ‘I don't know. I was outside in the garden and she was inside watching television.’

  ‘So your mother answered the phone?’

  ‘Yes, she answered the phone and then she came through here to tell me.’ Laura opened the cupboard and pulled a couple of cups out.

  ‘I thought you just said you out in the garden?’ asked Erika. Laura dropped one of the cups and it shattered across the floor.

  ‘Oh, shit, sorry…’

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Erika spying a dustpan and brush on the radiator by the door. She retrieved it and kneeled down to help

  ‘I was out in the garden, I meant to say that she came out and got me,’ said Laura, carefully picking up two long shards of broken china.

  ‘So it was her idea to go into town and confront Trevor?’ asked Erika sweeping the tiny bits of cup into the dustpan.

  Laura nodded. She picked up the last of the big pieces and stood moving over to a pedal bin.

  ‘Did she say who the person was on the end of telephone?’

  ‘She said it was a journalist,’ replied Laura pressing on the pedal, the lid popped up and Erika moved over to tip the pieces in from the dustpan. On the top was a small cardboard pill box with the name Halcion written on it.

  ‘Is someone ill?’ asked Erika.

  ‘That what the doctor prescribed for Mum. A sleeping thing,’ said Laura. She moved away and started to make the tea again.

  ‘So there was no name?’

  ‘I don’t know his name,’ she said quickly.

  ‘The journalist was a ‘he’?’

  ‘Oh, I thought you meant the doctor, um no I she didn’t tell me the name of the journalist or if he was a he or a she… As I said, we’ve had so many over the years, spying, phishing etc.’

  Laura filled the tea pot with her back to Erika.

  ‘Did your Mum explicitly say what she was going to do?’

  ‘She wanted to see Trevor, and she wanted to ask him once and for all if he did it.’

  ‘Didn't you realise it was a bad idea, Laura?’

  Laura placed her hands on the work surface and bowed her head, nodding.

  ‘She'd had a lot to drink, and said she was going to drive into town with or without me.’

  ‘Did you know your mother had taken a knife?

  ‘No, and I wouldn't have taken her if I knew what she was going to do… What’s going to happen to her? I think she’s finally lost it. Do you think they’ll commit her to a mental hospital? Or should I commit her?’

  Laura started to cry and Erika went and took her in her arms.

  ‘It’s so hard,’ Laura said her chest heaving. ‘We need a funeral. We need to draw a line under all this pain and suffering, and we need to put Jessica to rest. Do you know when we can have it?’ She looked up at Erika.

  ‘I hope you can very soon… What does Oscar Browne have to say?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she answered sharply. She pulled away from Erika and went to get the milk from the fridge.

  ‘He’s working as your liaison with the police. He’s asked us to be the point of contact for the family?’

  ‘Yes. Sorry, he is,’ said Laura. Her hands were still shaking.

  ‘How is your relationship after all these years?’

  ‘We don’t really have one. We broke up, he’s not been on my radar really. I have my kids and my husband. He works for Lloyds bank in Bromley… I have my own mobile nail business. Look,’ she added holding up her hand where the nails were bitten down to the quick. The doorbell chimed and she jumped.

  ‘Okay, well I’ll be going,’ said Erika. ‘I’ll come with you in case it’s another journalist.’

  They moved through the deathly still living room where the curtains were drawn, and to the front door. When Laura opened it, Erika heard a voice say,

  ‘Hi Lor, we need to talk…’

  Laura pulled the door open and Erika saw it was Oscar Browne. He was surprised to see her.

  ’DCI Foster was just here to ask about Mum,’ said Laura.

  ‘Right,’ he said. He seemed to stand taller and become more formal. ‘That’s what I was here about. We need to go over a few things with regards to her legal defence.’

  ‘Thank you detective,’ said Laura giving Erika a smile. Oscar came inside.

  ‘I can stay, if you want to talk over anything, I really don’t think that the CPS is going to come down heavily on your mum after all she’s been through, and she has no criminal record.’

  ‘I need to talk to my client,’ said Oscar. ‘If you don’t mind.’ He moved to the door and held it open for Erika.

  When she came up onto the street and got into her car, she thought she had something, but ishe couldn’t keep hold of the thought and it slipped out of reach in her mind. She started the car and drove back to the station.

  46

  Erika spent the rest of the afternoon trying to make sense of the case, but didn’t get anywhere. At six thirty, after spending a couple of hours listlessly flicking through the case files on her computer, she left for home.

  When she came through the front door, Jakub and Karolina were playing a game of chase, screaming and running through the flat. The baby was crying, in concert with the washing machine, and the television was on full blast on the MTV channel. Lenka was dancing around with a muslin over her shoulder, the baby leant against it, trying to get her to calm down. Erika’s heart sank, after months of coming home to a lonely flat all she wanted was some peace and quiet.

  ‘Zlatko! You’re home early!’ cried Lenka, ‘so you did what I told you for once.’

  Erika went to the fridge and opened the freezer box.

  ‘Where’s my vodka?’

  ‘I moved it, for the frozen vegetables. I was worried the bottle would break,’ she replied. Spice up your Life by The Spice Girls came on MTV and Lenka leant down and turned it up even louder. The kids came charging through and ran up and over the sofa bed.

  ‘Please can you just calm them down!’

  ‘You’re their aunt, you can talk to them a bit you know,’ snapped Lenka.


  ‘Why do they have to run over the furniture?’

  ‘It’s a bed, you know it’s okay for kids to jump on a bed.’ On cue the kids jumped on the sofa going mad to the music. Erika noticed that the ice cube tray had been dumped in the sink.

  ‘Why did you take the ice out?’

  ‘It’s the middle of November, what do you want ice for?’ Snapped Lenka transferring the screaming baby from one shoulder to another. The kids were now bounding higher and screaming their heads off along with The Spice Girls. Erika took a deep breath and went through to the bedroom. It was a tip, the bedclothes were bunched up in a ball, there were toys all over the floor, and a bag of dirty nappies were warming hideously by the radiator. Erika squeezed past the baby’s buggy and saw that her photo of Mark had been placed flat, and on the glass was a bottle of baby oil which had dripped over the glass. She grabbed the frame and unhooked the back. The oil had gone in and stained the top of the photo just above his head and down to his hair line.

  Erika seized the photo and marched back into the living room, nearly colliding with the children as they ran past.

  ‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’ shouted Erika.

  Lenka turned and stared at the photo. ‘What?’

  ‘You put the baby oil bottle on my photo of Mark…’

  ‘Sorry, I’ll get you another one, have you got it on a USB key? There there, it’s okay, Auntie Erika is home.’

  ‘Lenka, I don’t have another copy of this photo… I took it on an old film camera,’ said Erika, her voice cracking.

  ‘So you have a husband who you miss more than life itself and yet you have a photo of him, which only exists as one copy!’

  ‘How can you fucking well say that!’ Erika shouted. The tears were rolling down her face.

  ‘You lord it over us all that you’re this amazing detective, but you have one copy of the most precious photo in the world. I moved it from the changing table and you put it back there! You knew I was using it to change her nappy! You tell me it’s okay to stay and you get all territorial over me.’