Mummy's Favourite

by Sarah Flint

  ‘Thanks. You seem to be making a habit of being around at the right time to rescue me.’ He smiled at her a little sheepishly. ‘Perhaps one day I’ll be able to return the favour.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m really sorry. I should have given you more notice but there wasn’t a number to get you on and I was concerned.’

  She stared a little too long at his face. It was still swollen around both eyes, with a small row of stitches holding together a jagged cut across the bridge of his nose. The swelling had gone down a little from the night of the robbery, although it still looked extremely painful.

  ‘I have to say your face is still a right mess.’

  ‘You say all the nicest things,’ Ben gingerly ran his finger over his nose. ‘It’s broken but at least it’s straight so I won’t have to have it operated on. I think they’ve done me a favour actually because it’s been broken before and it’s straighter now than after the last time.’

  She smiled. ‘Always look on the bright side.’

  Ben broke into song, ‘Of life.’ He started to whistle the rest of the tune and she joined in the duet, finishing it together.

  They started to laugh.

  ‘Help yourself to a beer if you want one. Or are you still on duty?’

  She moved across to the kitchen area, which was even dirtier up close than she had realized, and decided beer from a tin in the fridge was infinitely better than a cup of tea from one of the mugs left lying stained and dirty in the sink.

  ‘Thanks,’ she tugged on the ring-pull and took a large gulp of cool beer. ‘I’m not on duty now, though really I’m here in my official capacity to see how you are. I probably shouldn’t have come like this, especially on a weeknight but I’ve been rushed off my feet all day and I wanted to check how you were and, like I said, I couldn’t phone.’

  ‘I’ve got a new number’ Ben fumbled with a small, basic phone. ‘It’s all I could afford, but at least I can be contacted now. You can have the number if you want? You could store it under the title “boyfriend”.’

  She shook her head at him in mock rebuke but, not for the first time, felt slightly uncomfortable. Ben liked to tease, but she wasn’t sure whether there was an element of truth in what he was intimating. Maybe she shouldn’t have come?

  ‘I’ll store it under “Ben”.’ She tapped the number into her phone. ‘And I’ll update the crime report.’ She tried to get back to a more formal footing.

  ‘OK, officer!’ Ben took the hint. ‘And now, what do you want to talk about?’

  ‘I’ll tell you what’s happening with your case first,’ She made herself comfortable on the sofa opposite Ben. ‘And then, we can talk about anything you want to.’

  After a few minutes chatting, her initial doubts disappeared. She was glad that she was there, although still a little worried about the ethics of visiting a victim when off duty. Ben was so easy to be with. She admired his tenacity and positivity.

  Seeing Ben in his dirty flat though made her even more determined to be a support for him, but first she needed to catch the cowards who had targeted him.

  She was painfully aware, however, that she had still to identify them.

  Chapter 21

  And so Act Two began. The walk through the woods had calmed him. Daisy and Helena were silent with fear. He could see it in their faces. The gags helped of course, not a word or scream able to pierce through the thick wadding. Their hands were bound too, not only individually but also to each other. They would never be able to run or fight, never mind escape.

  They walked ahead of him so he could watch their every movement. Helena was slim, a bit too slim in fact, with a gracefulness in her movement that had obviously been inherited by Daisy. He liked a bit more weight on his women, a decent spread of fat across the top of the hips and buttocks, like his mummy in fact. She’d had that slight sagginess of skin across her stomach and hips from giving birth. He thought back to his childhood and what had made his mummy happy. He would try it on Helena.

  The pits were almost in sight now. He would walk them right over the spot where Julie and Richard lay buried. How funny would that be? How fucking funny? They would have no idea that they would soon be facing the same fate.

  He led them across the other pit, feeling the knife twitch between his fingers as they did so. He missed visiting them. There was still a faint smell of death in the air permeating up from the soil. Helena wrinkled her nose at the scent, a small gesture that brought a smile to his face. She would soon be surrounded by her own. And then they were there. He ordered them to stop and then walked past them into the small copse of trees. The fading light seemed to peter out completely within the hanging boughs. He could hear every step he took, every movement of theirs. Bending down, he lifted the branches to one side and swept the leaves from the surface of the pit. It was ready. He was ready.

  He’d cleared a small area next to the pit, but within the copse of trees, to squat in. It was large enough for them all to huddle together, hidden from the outside. He pushed them forward into the space and removed the ligatures binding them together.

  ‘Try anything and Daisy dies,’ he mumbled towards Helena as he loosened the cord around her hands and mouth. ‘Now strip.’

  Panic swept across her face at the words and he felt himself instantly excited.

  ‘Please no,’ she whimpered, barely audible. ‘Please, not in front of my daughter.’

  He ignored her. It would do Daisy good to see her mother getting enjoyment from someone other than her.

  ‘Do what I say.’ He put the knife to his lips and let the tip of his tongue flick across its sharpened point.

  Daisy was crying. Helena started to remove her clothing. She stopped at her underwear, crouching down on her knees and crossing her hands across her chest. The action made her breasts fuller.

  ‘Take it off,’ he commanded, watching as she shook her head and didn’t move.

  ‘I said, take it off.’ He wanted to see her smile but she was crying. He would have to help her. Bending down, he hooked the blade of the knife behind the thin material of the bra. It was thin and lacy and easily split along the blade edge. She kept her arms folded.

  ‘Let me see you.’ He gestured with his knife towards Daisy, ‘Or she gets it.’

  Helena let her arms slip down to her sides. He gestured towards her groin, swinging the knife in Daisy’s direction as he did so.

  She did what she was told. She was totally naked now. She closed her eyes and he could see the tears squeezing out from the edges. He could see her shaking. She wanted him so much. She was trembling with pleasure, just like his mummy had. And now he would make her smile too. Leaning forward, he grasped her roughly, kissing her hard on the lips. She turned her head away so their lips separated, stiffening at his touch. He tried to kiss her again, but she kept moving away from him, whimpering quietly and begging him to stop. It angered him. All he wanted to do was give her pleasure. She should be smiling like his mummy had when he’d done this to her.

  He tried again this time pulling his trousers down so that he too was exposed. This was where she was meant to say what a big boy he was, how good he was, how she wanted him. This was meant to be where she moaned with pleasure, like his mummy had, smiling and laughing with delight. But Helena wasn’t smiling. She was crying and her eyes were full of fear.

  He pushed her down on to the grass and climbed on top of her. She was too bony and lay motionless and stiff. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it all. He could feel his temper rising as she failed to respond. The more he moved, the more she sobbed. He looked over at Daisy. She wasn’t even facing in their direction. How could she know what pleasure he was giving unless she watched; the bitch, the conniving little bitch? She didn’t want any other person making her mummy happy, except her.

  He wanted to climax but he couldn’t. Daisy was not watching and Helena was not enjoying it. They were both bitches and he hated them. He could feel the pleasure leaving him, draining away. He tried to keep go
ing but it was useless. And the anger was rising in him; hot burning anger that was overwhelming him as it had done before. He knew what he had to do now. If he couldn’t give pleasure, then he would give pain and it was all their fault. It wasn’t his fault; he was trying to make them happy.

  ‘Fuck you. Fuck you both.’

  He pulled away from her and grabbed his knife. Helena immediately curled herself up into a ball. Daisy had her back to him. How dare she ignore him? He pulled his trousers back up and crawled across the grass to where Daisy sat. She didn’t even turn her head to see him. Holding the knife between his teeth, he grabbed her around the neck and stood up. Her body arched out beneath him as she struggled to find her feet. She struck out with her arms trying to find something to hold on to, but the binding prevented her from getting her balance. Her neck lay bare, stretched out under his arm, and she was crying in discomfort. He pulled the knife from between his teeth and held it against her throat. His hands could feel the warmth of her flesh; his body craved the warmth and stickiness of her blood. It would calm his anger. He loved the blood.

  Helena was on her knees now struggling to get up. He could see the terror in her eyes. He hated her for it. He hated Daisy for it too. How dare she love Daisy and not Abigail? How dare she turn him away when he was trying to make her happy? She was crawling towards him now but it was too late, way, way too late. She couldn’t stop him. With a sweep of his arm, it was over. And as he looked at the shock and horror on Helena’s face, he knew he had truly punished her.

  Mummy’s favourite was dead. The final Act was complete.

  *

  It was late by the time Charlie got to the family home. She hadn’t meant to stay quite so long with Ben, having promised her mum she’d visit, in the hope that she might be able to inject some calm and civility into the house. She herself was not so sure. She did know, however, that she loved the general hubbub there, rather than her own empty flat. Empty places always bothered her.

  True to form both Lucy and Beth threw themselves at her as she let herself in, full of what they were doing and who they were doing it with. She barely had a chance to get a word in.

  They sat around the kitchen table swapping stories: Lucy confident in her unfolding ambitions, Beth avoiding having any. Meg kept them supplied with hot chocolate and joined in where she could. By the time they eventually wound their way up to their respective bedrooms, Charlie felt rejuvenated.

  She could hear Meg in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher and noisily putting the saucepans and crockery back in the cupboards. The sound of the kettle was growing to a crescendo as it came to the boil for a final bedtime cuppa.

  As she climbed into her bed in the still of her room, however, she thought of how quiet and empty it must be for Ryan Hubbard, without Julie or Richard to keep him company. Not knowing where they were even. How frightened and alone he must feel.

  She thought of Dana Latchmere and Aiden, on their own, while Justin remained at the police station. What would Dana be thinking? Would she suspect him of abducting Julie and Richard, possibly even harming them? If she did, how on earth could she live with him under the same roof if he got bail?

  She pulled the covers up around her neck and tried to relax. Nothing had changed since she’d last slept here. The duvet and duvet cover still smelt of her mother’s favourite fabric conditioner. It was comfortable and soothing and made the stresses of the day dwindle away.

  She glanced up at the compilation of family photographs on her wall and the familiar feeling of loss ran through her. It was multiplying with each hour, as Wednesday got closer. She plugged in her iPod and allowed her favourite songs to drift into her head, gently nudging the ever-present nightmares away.

  Her thoughts turned back to work.

  Did they have the right suspects in Keith Hubbard and Justin Latchmere?

  They still had no idea where Julie and Richard could be. Nothing had been heard from them since the day of their disappearance, just over two weeks ago, despite all the publicity and appeals. The priority must be to find them. After all, two people could not just disappear without trace.

  Charlie concentrated on the knowledge that she at least had a family around her, that would always be there for her, and as the familiar smells and scents wrapped themselves around her she felt herself falling into a deep, comfortable sleep.

  *

  Helena McPherson did not sleep that night.

  Locked deep under a heavy sheet of boarding, she lay, barely able to breathe, never mind move. Her body was wrapped in a thick layer of bedding, her clothes pulled back on in haste, but she was still cold, the memories of what she had witnessed filling her with freezing fear and unrelenting pain.

  Daisy, the baby girl she’d sworn to protect with her life, lay next to her, her neck gaping wide, dead eyes staring straight upwards at the boarding. The man had lifted her into the pit, dumping her down roughly before moving her limbs into position so that she was laid straight. Helena had pleaded for him to shut her eyes, to let her sleep, but he wouldn’t carry out even this small request. She’d failed her daughter even in this small way. The only small mercy was that Daisy hadn’t been touched. She hadn’t been raped. And for that Helena was irrationally but immensely grateful.

  Her daughter’s blood lay clotted around her. It was pooled on the leaves on which her body was positioned. Her Daisy, her beautiful, talented, special little girl was dead. The pain of knowing this was far greater than any pain he could deliver physically. She wanted to hold her daughter in her arms, cradle her, reverse things so that she could take Daisy’s place, but she knew deep down he would never have allowed that. He had a plan. She could see it in his eyes. He was methodical and systematic, even though he allowed bursts of anger to sometimes overwhelm him. Now, as she lay bruised and bloodied, she wondered when it would all end; when his knife would slice through her flesh too. She wanted it to be over soon. She didn’t want him to lay another finger on her. She wanted to wake from the nightmare and find it had all been a bad dream; that she was back at home with Daisy, Abigail and her husband and that nothing, and no-one could tear them apart .

  Helena McPherson didn’t sleep that night at all. Instead she lay, paralysed with fear and guilt staring into the blackness.

  Chapter 22

  The office was awash with senior officers when Charlie arrived the next morning.

  One missing mother and son was bad enough; a second pair was catastrophic. Everyone was on their way in. The public would be frightened and the Commissioner, press and politicians would all want quick results now there were four missing persons. They would be desperate to know whether arrests were imminent. The signs were not looking good.

  She made her way to the office to get the lowdown on what was happening. Most of the others were already in, their faces grim, silently interrogating the computer screens in front of them. She went over to Bet, who looked physically distressed.

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Hunter asked if we could start to go through the system and see if the new missing mother is known to us.’

  ‘And is she?’

  ‘I don’t know yet, the poor woman; there’s nothing obvious, but then we haven’t had this system for that long. I think we’re going to have to go back way further through the old paper records.’

  ‘We may as well set up home here then,’ Paul interjected. ‘As far as I recall there wasn’t a proper system for collating all that stuff until far more recently. You know as well as I do how bad coppers were if they were called to a domestic. They’d rather write it off than write it down and actually have to do something about it.’

  Naz came in, throwing her coat over the back of her chair, breathless and agitated. ‘Sorry I’m late. I heard on the news about the second missing pair, even before you called me. It’s awful, isn’t it? I would have been here half an hour ago but for Nathaniel playing up again. I could quite happily wring his neck. Wouldn’t get up, wouldn’t get dressed. And all bec
ause he’d got a Wagon Wheel rather than a Twix in his lunchbox!’

  ‘That’s kids’ priorities for you.’ Charlie shrugged. ‘I know what our priority will be. And it’ll be more about saving the Commissioner’s skin than dealing with the real victims. Paul’s right. Be prepared to forget any vestige of life out-side work until this is all over.’

  ‘You haven’t got one anyway, Charlie,’ Paul chipped in. ‘You spend far too much time at work already.’

  ‘Dedication, that’s what it’s called. Besides, I have a vested interest in this case with that bastard Hubbard, as you well know.’

  ‘Well I have a life outside this office and I’m not about to give it up.’ Colin was busily scanning the newspaper as he did every day. He wouldn’t start work any morning without first catching up on what was making the headlines.

  ‘I’ve been there and done that in the past.’ He pointed to a particularly critical headline. ‘The trouble is, and it looks as if the papers are picking up on it, we don’t have much of a clue about anything to do with this case at the moment.’

  Charlie was irrationally annoyed; Colin might not be interested in putting in the hours, but they now had four potential victims. Surely that should provide the motivation, if nothing else did. She knew Colin was only stating the truth about the lack of progress on the case too, but somehow, verbalizing it just made it even more frustrating. She tried to ignore her irritation.

  ‘Has anyone seen Hunter yet?’

  ‘He’s already at the briefing.’ Bet looked up. ‘We’ve all got to go in a few minutes, but he’s been called in early to discuss the situation so far with the bosses.’

  Charlie nodded her understanding and headed off. She wanted to be first into the room to show how much the case meant to her. Colin and Paul might not be dedicated, but she was. The briefing room was soon filled to capacity. Detectives in casual attire mingled with uniformed officers and senior officers in more formal suits. They lined the walls, leaning against every spare inch and sat on desks around the edges talking to one another. Tension crackled around the room as conversations were shared and thoughts aired.