Kevin had grabbed a lift back with Alex so he could crack on with getting the multiple exhibits booked through onto the computer. Jackson went to knock at the house and speak to TJ, but she opened the door before he even reached the path.
‘You look exhausted. Are you done now?’ Her voice was soft, and she put her hand on his arm. Her touch was warm, even through the barriers of clothing.
‘Yeah, done for now. I’ve got some stuff to do back at the nick, but I wanted to come and say goodnight first.’
‘You’re sweet.’ TJ leaned into him, and he pulled her tighter, needing the contact. Her eyes looked up at him, and he couldn’t resist, he lowered his head and kissed her. He loved how she tasted, like coffee and cake, sweet but dark and inviting.
He was almost ready to push her inside and drag her upstairs, which he knew he couldn’t do since he was still on duty, but a man could want.
‘I’ll be coming back when I’m done at the station,’ he murmured against her lips.
‘Promises, promises,’ she whispered back, capturing his mouth with hers again. The kiss deepened, and Jackson reluctantly pulled back.
A sudden, loud screech filled the air – it was primal, guttural. They pulled apart and stared at each other in horror. Jackson had never heard anything like it.
He took off towards the tree line at a dead run, shouting over his shoulder, ‘I’ll be back.’
The woods were dark, but he and Kev had hung lanterns to light the way to the clearing. When he reached the outer cordon, the generator-ran lights were glaring, lighting up the whole area.
‘Pinky, what the hell was that?’ he asked James Pinks, the only cop on the cordon.
‘I’ve got no idea. I’m maintaining the cordon – Smithy ran off that way. Animal, maybe?’ He pointed deeper into the trees, where there was no light.
‘I’ve ran from the house – give me your torch?’
Pinky paused, then handed it over. ‘Let me know if you need back up. I haven’t rung it in yet ’cos it sounded like a wounded fox or something.’
Jackson ran in the direction pointed at by Pinky. He was so busy concentrating on the undergrowth under his feet that he didn’t see Smithy and ran straight into him with a thud. Smithy lurched forwards and dropped to his knees.
Realising who it was, he scowled at Jackson. ‘What the heck is wrong with you, man?’
‘I heard a noise – I thought…’
‘Well, don’t think, help me up.’ Smithy held out his hand, and Jackson gave a strong tug, pulling Smithy to his feet.
‘They’ll have gone now, but I’m guessing you didn’t see what it was?’
Jackson shook his head.
‘Deer – two young stags, actually. They were rutting. Didn’t even think they came down this low, but I guess it is a wood, it’s sort of their natural habitat, I guess.’
‘Deer? Really?’ asked Jackson, peering into the darkness as if that would somehow make them appear.
‘God-awful noise, though, wasn’t it? I thought someone was being murdered.’
‘Me too. That’s why I ran.’
‘Well, thanks for the back-up,’ chuckled Smithy, heading back to the cordon where Pinky was waiting. Jackson felt heat rise in his cheeks.
When the lanterns came back into view, he handed Smithy the torch he’d borrowed. ‘Could you give that to Pinky, please?’
Still chuckling, Smithy took the torch without speaking.
When Jackson got back to the house, TJ was waiting on the doorstep, looking worried.
‘Nothing to worry about. A couple of stags rutting.’
‘We quite often get them in the fields – it’s not rutting season, though. That’s October time, I think. They were probably fighting over territory, rather than rutting. Still spectacular to see. They’re amazing animals. I don’t see them nearly as often as I’d like to.’
‘The cop laughed at me for running to help. Suppose I must’ve looked a bit daft, rushing in to save the day.’
TJ stepped forward, pulling him into a tight hug. ‘I don’t think it’s daft.’
Her voice had turned husky, and she kissed Jackson hard on the lips. Without coming up for air, he opened the door and pushed her inside without breaking the kiss.
26
20th December, 0800 hours – Sunderland City Police Station
‘Right, overview of the body found at the stables. Ali, you start.’ Alex’s voice cut through the hum of chatter in the conference room.
‘Looks to be a female body, pathologist thinks approximately thirty years old. She’s been dead for a few weeks. We’re hoping for an ID at the PM this morning at 10am. The forensic scientist woman is using some ground x-ray to see if she’s the only one. This is due to the report that another body was seen down at the stables and the one we located being buried in icy soil, so unlikely to have been the same one. We’ve put Barry Cox’s reg out on ANPR and have had a cop attend his address with no reply. Jacob’s initiated a search on any mobile phones registered to him to see if they’re active – if they are, we might be able to get location with triangulation, but equally, he might be smart and be using a pay-as-you-go. Jackson? Kevin? Wanna add the forensics?’
Jackson spoke up, ‘Soil samples and footwear marks recovered from the area behind the burned-out stables. Those footwear marks are the same size and model as the footwear marks found in the woods. Footwear investigator is assessing whether they’re exactly the same shoe, but it looks likely that it is. The soil sample from the stables has been sent to the DNA lab based on the other body being found as it’s not believed to be the same body. The results have been put on a twenty-four-hour response as of yesterday afternoon, so we should have them through later this afternoon at the latest.’
He coughed, suddenly uncomfortable at what he had to say next. He honestly thought he’d seen it all, but this was just… well, disgusting.
‘Whilst at scene looking at the body, the pathologist has noticed an odd substance inside the mouth of the dead girl. We did an acid phosphatase test due to the substance illuminating under UV. It came back as semen, so we…’
Both Ali and Alex looked green. Alex said, ‘Hold on, are you saying that someone ejaculated into the mouth of the victim? Would it not degrade if it happened a couple of weeks ago?’
Jackson nodded. ‘If it had happened then, it would have degraded; this was a relatively fresh sample that had frozen with the weather being so cold. We’re saying that whoever did this pushed his penis into the mouth of a dead woman then ejaculated, probably over the last few days.’
‘Dirty bastard,’ muttered Ali, saying what they were all thinking.
‘Anyway, a sample of the semen was recovered. Submissions have authorised it being sent off for DNA analysis, if needed, though want to see if we get a hit for the footwear mark first.’
‘Have we ever had a case before where the killer was a necrophiliac?’
‘Not in the north east, as far as I’m aware. Country-wide, there’s the odd one or two, but nothing that would match this MO.’ Kevin’s interjection was met with silence whilst everyone struggled to comprehend.
‘What makes someone want to have sex with a dead person?’ Alex’s question was a serious one.
‘It’s an urge that only occurs in up to 5% of the world’s population. I read a journal article a while back that said most necrophiliacs are males between the ages of twenty and fifty – quite a big range. I think it said something about people killing people to have sex with them, too, but can’t remember the wording. I can look it up, if you want a read about it?’ Kev’s response was quiet, but everyone heard what he’d said.
‘Thanks, Kev, that’d be useful. Moving on to the dumpster deaths,’ Alex continued.
‘Body of a male believed to be Alan Brown, son of Neil Brown who resides at the farm next to the riding stables. The DNA from the woods came back as a match to him late last night – cause of death according to the pathologist was exsanguination. His throat was cut
– no hesitation marks, so indicates the killer has killed before. We now have strong reason to suspect Barry Cox of this murder, too. The media team have prepped a release around wanting to talk to him in relation to the death of Brown. It contains as recent a photo as we could get from the Rainbow Stables website under the staff section. It’s likely to be more than five years old but still holds a good likeness.’
Ali paused and took a slurp of his coffee. ‘The second wheelie bin is believed linked, as the victim, a female named Cheryl Whiffen, had some injuries that resemble those of victim Sally Amari. They were also friends – both homeless and living in Sunderland. Sally told me about Cheryl when I first met her at the hospital. Sally managed to escape a man who matches Barry’s description. We don’t know from where she escaped as yet, but we do know Barry has been to the hospital looking for her. He won’t make that mistake again, and she’s now been placed in protective custody as she can provide a positive identification. The details she gave to the sketch artist show Barry – a few years older but still the same man.Sally did make mention that she’d scratched his face prior to escaping – scrapings were taken of flesh under her fingernails which has been authorised for submission to see if it’s a match.’
‘Forensic-wise, the wheelie bins were in pretty rough shape and were full before the bodies were dumped as it was bin day – the killer obviously thought they’d be picked up by the bin wagons, and even if they made it to the plant, they might have been missed by the checkers. There was a scrape of paint on the corner wall of the alley entrance. CCTV from the shop nearby shows a car pulling into the alley – we took a sample of the paint to match to Barry’s vehicle, should this to come to light. A few of the plastic bags were seized from the bins for chemical analysis, but they haven’t come back yet – the lab’s really busy with Linda Maxwell off sick. There was a partial footwear mark in some light soil beside the second wheelie bin – which appears to be a match to the stables and woods. We’re hoping to get a definitive identification back this afternoon, all being well.
‘I’ve got Johnny, Faith and Kayleigh attending the PM this morning. Me, Jackson and Deena are heading back out to the stables today to meet the archaeologist – we’re going to do a scan of the clearing using the machines she’s bringing to show an image of any other bodies that may be buried there. Hopefully, there won’t be any more, as I think we’ve got enough on with three, but we should know for sure later this afternoon.’ Kev sat back in his chair and sighed.
* * *
19th December, 1030 hours – abandoned school, near Durham
Barry had decided holing up at the school was the best bet – until he’d made plans and left, anyway. He didn’t know anyone who could get him fake passports and whatever else he would need to leave the country – he’d contacted the few lads he did know who were rough, but they hadn’t been able to help. Couldn’t even point him in the right direction.
He wished now he was more tech-savvy. He didn’t have a clue about technology. Could use his mobile and the internet, that was about it. If he’d known more, he could have used that dark web he’d heard about and see if he could get some documents from there. But Barry didn’t even know where the dark web was. There could have been a hidden portal on his home page, for all he knew.
It put him in a difficult position. He hadn’t heard anything about anything yet, and he’d been scouring the newspaper headlines and the radio. He had the radio on in his office even now. He turned the volume up as the news started. If nothing was mentioned this time, maybe they weren’t looking for him at all. Maybe he was just being paranoid.
‘… Police are looking to speak with Barry Cox, who formerly worked at Rainbow Riding Stables in County Durham, in relation to a dead body located on the land at the stables. We’ll have more from our on-site correspondent after 11am, however police stress that it is urgent they speak with Barry, as he may have some vital information relating to the investigation. Police ask that he is not approached if seen as he may not be aware the police are looking for him. They ask that you contact the control room on 101 and advise the operator there of any sightings. In other news…’
Barry leaned back in his seat. They must think he was daft. As if he would come forward to speak with them. He had no vital information; that was just a way to keep the public looking out for him. He had no intentions of leaving the school or venturing anywhere. Even if he wore his reading glasses and a woolly hat, there was still a chance he’d be recognised. He’d lived in County Durham his whole life.
He didn’t really know why he hadn’t left already – he could have. He had a new runabout: he’d paid cash (not many places did that now – cash payment for a discounted price), and he’d managed to nick plates from another car of same colour, make and model parked in a nearby street. They’d filled in the paperwork, with the name of his neighbour a few doors away from where he lived. By the time the neighbour got the letter from DVLA, he’d be long gone. Barry had it planned where he would go: Manchester for a bit, then up to the place he was born, Alness in Scotland. His mum hadn’t stayed there long – it had taken his dad cheating on her for the twentieth time and pissing his wages up the wall with cheap whiskey that had prompted her to up sticks and leave.
He knew they’d moved to County Durham so she could be closer to her sister initially, but gradually, they’d both ended up building their lives there. He didn’t really want to leave, but Scotland was the next best thing.
He’d been making excuses to wait since the day before.
Deep down, he knew what it was. He didn’t want to leave his Angels. So far, the police had only found the one body, but he was almost sure they’d find the rest. Except nothing had been mentioned on the news. So maybe they thought it was just her, his number one Angel. She was his favourite. It was a shame they’d put her through all that, pulling her out of the icy ground. She was happy where she was. Had been ever since he’d placed her there a few weeks before. November had been a mild month, the ground had still been damp and earthy when he’d put her under the soil. So carefully, her arms crossed over her chest – that pose had always reminded him of angels. His mother had been laid the same way in the open casket for days after her death. He remembered waiting, alone in the house, for the clock to strike midnight. Then, he’d climb into the coffin with his mum. He’d lay his head on her cool shoulder and kiss her softly on her cold cheek.
He never even found the smell unpleasant, and she was in the house for five whole days, with the heating on for the most part due to a cold snap. When it finally came to the funeral, he was already hooked on the silence, the feel of his mother’s skin under his hands. He knew he couldn’t keep her forever. But he also knew he wanted to. She was his Angel. His first ever Angel.
He gave himself a small shake, pulling his head from the past to the present.
Maybe if I go to them, say a proper goodbye. Maybe then I’ll be able to move on to pastures new.
* * *
19th December, 1420 hours – Rainbow Riding Stables
TJ hated this feeling. She felt helpless and out of place in her own home. The whole place felt overrun with police and forensic folk. She knew Neil Brown had been told about his son – he’d kept venturing onto the driveway and staring at her house, as if that would somehow bring Alan back. It looked like he was back to blaming her for everything and sundry.
She’d been stood in the living room now for almost two hours, staring out of the window at the cops and CSIs coming and going through the woods.
Jackson had promised to keep her updated, but he hadn’t shown his face since about ten o’clock – she didn’t resent that, knew he was busy. But she wished he’d at least found time to text and let her know her land wasn’t some kind of cemetery. Give her some reassurance that it had only been the one, which was bad enough, she knew. Deep down, however, she suspected it was more than one – or they wouldn’t have been out there for hours.
She’d heard on the news that the radi
o station had a correspondent on site – she hadn’t seen any evidence of press activity, but she also hadn’t ventured past the car park. It could well be that the police had stopped the press at the turning to the driveway on the main road. She hoped that was the case. TJ had hated the press since they’d reported on her injuries after the attack. They’d exaggerated so much, and then, one of the reporters had found their way onto her ward and taken a couple of sneaky shots not long after the first operation. It had been an awful photo. One she really hadn’t wanted to see.
TJ knew she couldn’t stand around all day waiting for Jackson to come and update her. Paul had agreed to deal with the horses, had even offered to stay in the tack room overnight so she wouldn’t have to worry. He’d been as shocked over the news about Barry as she had. But she still had a mountain of other things to do, even with the horses seen to. Wrapping gifts was one thing. It was less than a week until Christmas, and she hadn’t even started sorting and wrapping. More because she couldn’t really think about it with everything going on.
She knew it wouldn’t get done again today, either.
Dark clouds shed a grey hue over the car park and farm – it was going to rain. Hard.
Weather forecast had indicated a heavy storm with icy rain, in some places snow, that would last all the way through the night and next day. God only knew what that meant for the clearing – Jackson knew about it as they’d watched the weather report that morning when they’d got up, all nervous after the first time waking up together. Nothing had felt more natural to her for a long time, though. They’d made breakfast together and sat and watched the morning breakfast show until Jackson had left for work.
Her gaze focussed on him coming out of the clearing and heading for the large van in her car park that she’d heard referred to as ‘the lounge.’ He tugged his mask onto the top of his head, unzipped his white suit to the waist, as if too warm, and gulped in breaths of fresh air before opening the van door and going inside.
Under The Woods: a heart-stopping police thriller (The Forensic Files Book 4) Page 26
