Dark Water: A gripping serial killer thriller

by Robert Bryndza

  He slung his arm around her neck and his hand started to move over her shoulder and under the neck of her blouse.

  ‘What’s that?’ said Laura knocking his hand away and sitting up.

  ‘I can’t hear anything,’ he said. ‘Come on, I really want to do you on this beach. Theres no one around.’

  ‘Jessica, she’s in the caravan,’ said Laura pointing to it in the distance. Then they noticed it was in darkness.

  ‘The generator, it’s stopped working,’ said Laura starting to panic.

  ‘It’s probably run out of petrol.’

  ‘But she’s scared of the dark, she’s all alone there in the dark!’ said Laura standing and hunting for her shoes.

  ‘It’s okay, she’s probably asleep, she was exhausted.’

  ‘We should never have left her alone in there!’ Laura shouted.

  ‘It’s not my fault, it takes two to tango. Anyway we’ve got the key,’ said Oscar pulling it from his pocket.

  ‘Stop being clever. I want to go back,’ said Laura. She now had both shoes on and was marching off up the beach to join the small footpath to the caravan.

  When they reached the door, Oscar put the key in the lock.

  ‘That generator really stinks,’ said Laura. And then Oscar opened the caravan door.

  68

  PRESENT DAY

  * * *

  Erika and Peterson sat in horror as Laura continued her story,

  ‘The inside of the caravan was thick with acrid smoke and fumes. One of us had moved the generator, because it was on uneven ground and we didn’t want the wind to blow it over or for it to topple, what we didn’t realise is that we’d moved it up against a vent near the front of the caravan. It was opposite where Jessica slept. We’d locked the doors and the windows. Oscar flung them all open and tried to get the air circulating again, but when I went to her… She wasn’t moving. Her skin was this terrible purple grey colour, and she was dead.’

  ‘So it was an accident?’ asked Erika in disbelief.

  ‘We should have checked, I should have checked for things like vents and windows…’

  ‘What happened next?’ asked Peterson.

  ‘We both freaked out. I then told Oscar that Jessica was my daughter. He started going on about kidnapping and manslaughter charges and that he had signed the paperwork to rent the caravan, and he’d signed a legal thing about using the generator. He was a young black man at the start of a glittering law career… Do you know how they treat young black men in the justice system? He kept saying. I carried her down to the beach and I sat up all night with her. Just holding her in my arms. She was so beautiful… then it got light and I heard the car start and Oscar went away and came back, he said he’d been to one of the camping shops a few miles away and that it was all over the news that Jessica had been kidnapped. He freaked out even more, that I’d lied to him.’

  ‘And then what did you do?’

  ‘We buried her… we buried my little girl… we dug a hole and we put her in it. It was under a tree where she could see the sea. We were so scared. Oscar was threatening me. I hadn’t slept…’

  Erika moved round and took Laura in her arms. She looked over at Peterson and saw that he had tears in his eyes too. Laura managed to compose herself and she pushed Erika away.

  ‘Oscar was just able to switch himself off. We came back and he put it to the back of his mind, but I carried this terrible secret. I was burdened by it and the thought that I had left my little girl… You know what the terrible thing is? I enjoyed keeping it from my mother. That fucking bitch had taken my little girl from me and now she knew what it felt like! They can go to hell!’ Laura shouted slamming her hand down on the table. ‘I hate her!’

  ‘So how did Jessica go from being buried hundreds of miles away to resting at the bottom of Hayes Quarry?’

  ‘I was going crazy, the police were searching for her, and then they arrested Trevor Marksman and it was sent from heaven. He was a paedophile, I was happy for him to take the blame for Jessica’s death… I wrote Gerry a letter.’

  ‘Gerry O’Reilly? Jessica’s father?’

  Laura nodded. ‘I asked him to phone me. We got talking and he said that he would be in London to see friends before he was posted out to Iraq. I spent the night at his hotel and I told him everything. I thought he’d go crazy, but I had to tell him, he was Jessica’s father. You know what he was most interested to hear? That a lawyer was involved, a fancy lawyer… He agreed to help me. I had to bring her home. I saw they had searched the quarry, so a few weeks after I said I was going back to university to get some of my things, as I hadn’t returned for the September semester. We went back to Wales, and we dug her up… Oscar hadn’t even wrapped her in anything. She was just in the earth. We brought her back.’

  ‘What about the old man who was squatting in the cottage opposite the quarry?’

  ‘I swear I didn’t know about that. He saw us, he saw us when we were in the boat. Gerry said he would take care of it and he did. He made it look like he hung himself. He was crazy.’

  ‘But he didn’t deserve to die,’ said Peterson.

  The clock ticked through the silence.

  ‘I used to go there often. It was a comfort to me that she was there. I never told my husband, or any of the friends I made. When you live a lie, it becomes so ingrained you almost think its true. Until you found her again, in my mind, she had gone missing on that afternoon on the way to the birthday party.’

  ‘What about Amanda Baker? What about DI Crawford? They weren’t accidents,’ said Erika.

  ‘Gerry. It was Gerry… He remembered Oscar and when the time came he cashed in the secret. He got Oscar to represent him when he was charged with attempted murder. Oscar got him off. And then they started this screwed up… association. Gerry would ask for favours, and then Oscar became more and more corrupted by power. He became like his fixer. Doing his dirty work. So when Jessica was found, Oscar had Gerry working for him again. He kept track of what was going on with the case…’

  ‘And when Amanda Baker got close he made it look like she’d killed herself, and that DI Crawford had slit his wrists, and me?’

  Laura looked up at her, her eyes held so much sadness and self-hatred,

  ‘It was supposed to look like a break in, and the burglar snapped and killed you.’

  ‘Did they really think they’d get away with it?’

  ‘They’ve got away with much more in the past,’ said Laura.

  ‘Do you know where Gerry O’Reilly is headed? He boarded a train to Paris this morning?’ asked Erika.

  ‘He always said that one day he would make his move, take what’s his, and he would have enough to vanish into a puff of smoke,’ said Laura.

  69

  Oscar Browne QC sat at his desk at the Omnia Chambers Legal Firm, looking down over the city. It was growing dark and had started to rain, slapping against the large floor to ceiling windows in sheets.

  He picked up his phone and tried to call Gerry O’Reilly for the fifth time. The number went straight to voicemail. He slammed it down and began to pace up and down his office, feeling sweat and dread prickling his back. There was an email alert tone, and he moved back round to his desk. He didn’t recognise the email address, but it had the title: A CONCERNED CITIZEN

  He opened it and read with horror,

  * * *

  TOP O’ THE MORNIN’ TO YOU OSCAR,

  * * *

  DOSSIER ON ALL YOUR SCALLYWAG BUSINESS DEALINGS WAS EMAILED TO MET POLICE BIGWIGS A COUPLE OF HOURS AGO.

  IF THE BOYS IN BLUE ARE DOING THEIR JOB PROPERLY. YOU SHOULD BE HAVING A VISIT FROM THEM ANYTIME NOW.

  YOU OWE ME ANOTHER PAYMENT, BUT LET’S CALL IT SORTED. I DIPPED INTO YOUR PIGGY BANK.

  I’LL SIGN OFF BY SAYING, GOOD LUCK, AND YOU’RE A CUNT.

  * * *

  I ALWAYS SAID I’D VANISH IN A PUFF OF SMOKE.

  * * *

  G.

  * * *

  Oscar bega
n to really sweat. Then his phone rang. He snatched it up.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sir, I have your account on the line, says its urgent,’ came the voice of his secretary.

  ‘OK,’ he said weakly. There was a pause and then the booming voice of Bernard his accountant came on the line.

  ‘What the hell are you doing man? You’ve transferred out almost two million from your account! We agreed you wouldn’t make these decisions without first consulting me! Do you know of the penalties…’

  His arm went weak and he dropped the phone back into the cradle. He looked around the office at the main double doors, and the inner office and en suite bathroom. The buzzer went on his desk, ‘Sir,’ came the voice of his secretary. ‘There are a group of police officers here, they won’t… Do you mind, you can’t just barge in…’

  The double doors burst open and DCI Foster stood with DI Peterson and three uniformed officers. Before anyone could say anything, Oscar moved round his desk, grabbed his wallet, keys and phone and dashed through the door to the right and locked it.

  Erika moved to the door and bashed on it with her fist.

  ‘Open the door Oscar. It’s over. We know everything. We’ve spoken with Laura. She’s now in custody at the station…’ she bashed on the door again. ‘Open the door!’

  The secretary rushed in after them.

  ‘Where does this door lead?’ asked Erika.

  ‘Um, I…’

  ‘Answer the question?’

  ‘There’s a small bathroom, an area for dressing… and it leads out to a small balcony,’ she said.

  Erika looked at one of the uniformed officers and gave him the nod. He moved forward and charged the door. It splintered easily and opened. They moved through into a small elegant bathroom, beyond it was a door to a small room with sink and a fridge, a low sofa and double doors. They were open and the rain was pouring inside.

  They moved out onto the balcony, and looked down. The rain fell away in sheets down to the road below, dark and lit up with rush hour traffic. They looked up and saw an iron-rung ladder with protective hoops was on the back wall of the balcony, leading up two storeys to the roof. Oscar was halfway up, climbing toward the edge of the rooftop.

  The uniformed officers looked up shielding their eyes from the rain, and back to Erika.

  ‘It’s slick with rain. We need to do a risk assessment, it’s a sixteen storey drop down to the road below,’ said one.

  ‘A bloody risk assessment?’ shouted Erika above the rain.

  ‘Health and safety,’ said the other. Erika looked at Peterson and they went for the ladder, she pulled herself up and he followed behind her.

  As Peterson and Erika clung to the iron rungs and climbed the ladder, the city of London stretched out below them, a carpet of lights.

  ‘Shit, he’s almost at the top,’ shouted Erika, trying to quicken her pace, but the soles of her black shoes had very little grip and she had to climb carefully. There was a crack and a peal of thunder, and a flash lit up the sky.

  ‘That’s all we need, thunder and lightning when we’re climbing up metal at the top of a skyscraper!’ shouted Peterson.

  ‘It’s not a skyscraper, it’s an office block,’ shouted Erika down to him.

  ‘Either way it’s bloody high!’ he shouted back. She looked down at Peterson, he was soaked through. She blinked the water from her eyes and looked up as Oscar made it to the top of the ladder and climbed over onto the roof, vanishing from view.

  This spurred Erika on and she reached the top of the ladder moments later and eased herself over the concrete lip of the building.

  Oscar was slumped against a fire exit. When he saw Erika he rose to his feet.

  ‘Oscar. It’s over,’ said Erika. She was joined by Peterson.

  ‘Come on man,’ said Peterson. ‘Where are you going to go? Just give up and come with us.’

  ‘You doing the brother act on me?’ asked Oscar. ‘You think cos we’re both black I’m going to give up out of solidarity.’

  Oscar moved quickly across the smooth asphalt where the rainwater was gathering in pools like mercury, and went to the edge of the roof. He placed one foot on the raised edge.

  ‘Stop!’ said Erika.

  ‘My life is over!’ he shouted. ‘What have I got to look forward to?’

  ‘You’ve got kids and a wife!’ said Peterson.

  “My kids, my wife,’ said Oscar bowing his head for a moment and wiping his eyes. ‘My kids…’

  ‘Please, just come with us,’ said Erika.

  ‘I never meant any of this to happen,’ said Oscar. ‘I know it sounds trite, but I didn’t. Things just got out of hand.’

  He looked like he was about to relent and he took his foot down off the edge. He turned to them.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Okay, good, just come towards us,’ started Erika. Suddenly Oscar seized the raised edge of the roof and hoisted himself up. He stood with his arms outstretched, leaned forward and threw himself off the edge.

  ‘Jesus! No!’ cried Erika. They rushed forward and looked down at the road far below. The traffic had stopped, horns were honking, and there was a faint scream. Below, the made out the small broken form of Oscar Browne lying in the road.

  Epilogue

  ‘I’m only here because my flat is a crime scene,’ said Erika. Peterson opened the front door to his flat and they went inside.

  ‘It should warm up in a minute,’ he said, moving to the hall cupboard and turning on the central heating. They had spent several hours in soaking wet clothes, giving statements and a full account of the time leading up to the death of Oscar Browne. Vauxhall Bridge Road had been closed shortly afterwards, and there had been traffic chaos. The national news channels had been asked not to broadcast pictures from the accident without pixellating the body and the surrounding area.

  Peterson went to the bathroom and grabbed a couple of towels, throwing one over Erika.

  ‘These stink of mould,’ said Erika.

  ‘But their dry!’ he moved to Erika and rubbed at her back vigorously. ‘I’d do it for Moss and any other copper, just keeping you warm,’ he added.

  ‘Well, it’s not working,’ she grinned.

  ‘Ah, there we are, can you hear the water in the radiators?’

  ‘Yes. Do you have any whisky, that works too.’

  She through to the living room and Erika peeled off her coat, found two glasses and a bottle of whisky on the counter next to the toaster and poured two large measures. She drank half of one and then topped it up. Peterson came through a few minutes later wearing a clean dry tracksuit. He chucked one at her, and she went to the bathroom and got changed.

  She stared at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look as bad as she thought. Exhausted, and pale from hunger, yes, but her face had something she hadn’t seen in a long time. She looked hopeful, and perhaps even a little bit happy.

  ‘How can you feel happy after the day you’ve had?’ she asked her reflection. ‘What a case! And it all could have been avoided. Accidental death. Would have saved so much heart ache…’

  She stripped off her wet clothes and splashed her face with water. There was a clanking crash from outside the bathroom and she heard a yell.

  ‘You all right?’ she shouted.

  ‘Yeah, just stubbed my bloody toe!’ he shouted. She couldn’t help but grin. She pulled on the dry clothes and towelled her hair, then came out of the bathroom.

  Peterson was waiting with her whisky, she took it and he held his up to toast.

  ‘What a cluster fuck of a day.’

  ‘Yes, a cluster fuck,’ she agreed. They took a long drink. There was a knock at the door, and he went to open it. He came back with Moss who was carrying a large pizza.

  ‘How did you know?’ asked Erika who suddenly realised she was starving.

  ‘We have a tradition, well we used to have it more regularly that we order pizza after solving a case.’

  ‘I l
ike that tradition,’ said Erika. ‘Good work today, both of you,’ she added.

  Peterson went to the cupboard and pulled down a glass and started to fill it with whisky for Moss.

  ‘Oh, not for me,’ she said pulling off her coat.

  ‘Come on you can have one. And if anyone stops you, your a bloody copper!’ said Peterson.

  ‘No, I can’t.’

  ‘You can’t?’ asked Erika. They both looked at Moss.

  ‘Hang on,’ said Peterson. ‘You’re not the type to turn down a drink.’

  ‘I wasn’t supposed to say anything, shit, I’m pregnant.’

  Peterson and Erika both screamed with delight and bowled into her for a hug.

  ‘How long, I mean how, when do you have it?’

  ‘I’ve only just found out that I’m six weeks,’ said Moss.

  ‘I take it, it was planned?’ said Peterson. ‘Course it was bloody planned, don’t you know anything about lesbian sex!?’

  ‘Course,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you watch enough lesbian porn...’

  ‘Enough!’ grinned Peterson.

  ‘I think I told you that me and Celia wanted to have one each, and we, well, I just thought it’s now or never so we arranged a donor and we went into it with low expectations and here I am, I’m going to be a Mum.’

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ said Erika, hugging her.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I’m excited and terrified, and I’m now eating for two.’

  She opened the box and they all grabbed a slice of pizza.

  ‘You’ve always eaten for two,’ said Peterson. They bit down on their pizza and savoured the taste.

  ‘So, what’s happening with you two?’ asked Moss through a mouthful of pizza.

  ‘Oh nothing,’ said Erika.

  ’Nope, we’re cool though,’ said Peterson.