The Kate Fletcher Series

by Heleyne Hammersley

  Gravel crunched underfoot as Kate followed Hollis up the short path to the front door of a middle terrace. It was neatly kept, the window surrounds newly painted and the uPVC door spotlessly white. Hollis rang the bell and a blurred figure appeared behind the upper glass panel of the door.

  ‘Yes? Can I help you?’ The woman standing on the doorstep wasn’t quite what Kate had been expecting. She knew from the case notes that Sarah Armstrong was in her early thirties but this woman looked twice that age.

  ‘We’re looking for Sarah Armstrong,’ Hollis said, holding out his ID. ‘South Yorkshire Police.’

  ‘Can I ask why?’ The woman folded her arms across an ample bosom making her look like a bouncer at an old people’s home.

  ‘We need to speak to her about an incident that she was involved in a few years ago.’

  The crossed arms tightened, cardigan-covered shoulders moved higher.

  ‘Look,’ Kate said, from behind the DC. ‘We’ve come a long way and we’d really like to speak to Sarah, if she’s here. If not then can you tell us where to find her? It’s concerning a case in Doncaster which may have a link to what happened to her four years ago. I think she might be able to help us.’

  Before the woman could reply a voice sang out from further down the hallway.

  ‘Who is it, Mam?’

  Kate saw jeans-clad legs approaching the front door topped by a baggy, pale yellow T-shirt. When the woman peered over the shoulder of the self-appointed gatekeeper, Kate could barely contain a gasp of surprise. The owner of the voice was the spitting image of Melissa Buckley.

  Chapter 31

  Barratt was humming as he pulled into the car park of the fertility clinic.

  ‘What’s that tune?’ Cooper asked, unable to place the vaguely familiar rhythm.

  ‘It’s the theme from The Addams Family. Don’t you think this place looks a bit like their house?’ He dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper. ‘Who knows what horrors lurk inside?’

  Sam stared out of the car window. Barratt had a point – the building looked much more like a gothic mansion than a clinic. She hadn’t been keen on this assignment despite the way she’d teased her colleague in the briefing; it was way beyond her comfort zone even though it wasn’t strictly under cover. They’d worked out their story on the short drive over. Matt was a car salesman and she worked in the library. They’d been married for three years and had been trying to conceive naturally for two of those. Month after month of failure had compelled them to take the first steps towards IVF. Money wasn’t an issue.

  ‘Come on then,’ Barratt said, opening the car door. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

  Sam followed him up the steps and into the reception area trying to take in the details of her surroundings but her eye was drawn to the state-of-the-art computer system on the receptionist’s desk. Barratt caught her eye and shook his head almost imperceptibly. The message was clear: now was not the time to get into a discussion about technology. She allowed Barratt to explain who they were and why they were here to the receptionist who responded with a smile to everything that Barratt said and then directed them to wait in a soft seating area in the bay window.

  ‘I feel like we’re on display,’ Barratt whispered, nodding to the clear panes, unadorned by curtains or blinds. ‘Not exactly private.’

  ‘And nothing to be ashamed of, either,’ Sam responded. Matt was obviously getting into his role as reluctant husband. They’d decided that she’d be the one most keen on IVF while Barratt was to play the long-suffering husband who was just humouring ‘the little woman’.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Barratt?’ a voice called from behind Sam. She turned to see a tall, well-built man in an immaculate navy-blue suit, which made Barratt’s look like he’d bought it second-hand from eBay. A lavender tie and white shirt completed the look, which wouldn’t have been out of place at a summer wedding. He reached out to shake Barratt’s hand and Sam watched as the arm of his jacket strained across the muscles of his upper arm. When he took her own hand his grip was firm, warm and dry. She smiled up at him trying to assess whether his baldness was natural or due to shaving. The latter, she knew, was a favourite trick of the forensically-aware killer.

  ‘Come through,’ Matthias said, holding the door open to allow Barratt to lead the way. ‘Up the stairs then second on the right.’

  Mathias’s office looked more like a domestic sitting room than a treatment room. Two large sofas flanked one corner with a low coffee table between them. The only sign that this was a work space was a desk pushed up against the wall, opposite the window. Here, again, was a top-of-the range PC and, next to it, a small selection of medical text books.

  ‘Please, sit,’ Matthias instructed and Sam settled next to Barratt on one of the sofas. Matt took her hand and, as they’d planned, she pulled away from him and shifted position slightly so that she could lean forwards towards Matthias. She knew that the psychologist couldn’t have missed her actions or their message. This was not a happy marriage.

  ‘So, you want to explore whether IVF is the right option for you?’

  ‘We do,’ Sam said firmly. ‘I’ve always wanted children and, well, no matter how hard we try, it’s not working.’

  ‘So why IVF? Have you tried artificial insemination? I’m sorry but I don’t have your notes yet.’

  They’d prepared for this. Barratt cleared his throat. ‘I er… my sperm have very low motility. I had tests through my GP and they showed that AI was unlikely to be effective. We were told that, if we were prepared to pay, we could go straight to IVF.’

  Another understanding nod from Matthias. Sam could feel the sofa cushion vibrating as Barratt’s right leg twitched up and down next to her. Either he’d decided to add a nervous twitch or he felt really uncomfortable talking about sperm in front of her. She filed the information away so that she could tease him later.

  ‘Tell me about yourselves,’ Matthias said. ‘What’s brought you to this point?’

  For the next forty minutes they told their story: happy marriage, good jobs but Sam felt that something was missing. Barratt agreed with her but allowed some reluctance to add a slight edge to his account. They wanted to make it seem like he was just going along with her to shift the focus – and potentially Matthias’s sympathy – onto Sam. Barratt made it clear that Sam came from a wealthy family who were willing to pay for the procedure and, again, added a dash of resentment suggesting that he didn’t want handouts from his in-laws.

  Sam noticed that Matthias didn’t make notes, instead he just listened, only asking questions for further clarification of factual details. She’d been expecting to be asked how she felt about it all but there was no attempt to gauge the emotional state of either herself or Barratt, instead Matthias seemed to focus his attention on the stability of their relationship; he’d obviously picked up on the tension between the two of them.

  Finally, he seemed satisfied and urged them to make another appointment where they could ‘really explore the emotional impact of their decision’. They all stood up and, after another handshake, he directed them back to reception where they could book another appointment.

  Sam could barely hide her disappointment as she and Barratt descended the stairs. She’d expected something overt from Matthias, some specific interest in the friction between husband and wife, but he seemed to have almost ignored the obvious signals that she’d been giving. They booked an appointment for the following week and Sam handed over her credit card – she’d offered to make the payment and claim it back later as it backed up their story that her family were paying for the treatment.

  Just as they’d slammed the car doors and Barratt started the engine a tap on the window made Sam jump. Matthias was standing next to the car, a mix of embarrassment and determination on his face. Sam wound down her window.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Mrs Barratt,’ Matthias began. ‘There’s been a problem with your credit card. Would you mind coming back inside?’

  She made irrit
ated noises and protested that there shouldn’t be a problem but, intrigued, she followed the psychologist back up the steps and into the foyer of the building. The receptionist wasn’t at her desk and Sam wondered if Matthias had sent her off on an errand so that she wouldn’t witness this conversation.

  ‘It’s not your card,’ he explained. ‘The payment was fine. I just got the impression that you didn’t want to open up in front of your husband. I see a lot of couples who think that they want counselling together but, quite often, one or the other would rather not share their feelings with their partner. I offer one-to-one counselling, away from the clinic, and I just thought you might be interested. If I’m mistaken, feel free to ignore my intrusion but, if I’m not…’ He handed her a business card. ‘Here’s my personal number. We can set up an appointment at your convenience.’

  Sam simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and pocketed the business card. She waited until they were on Thorne Road before finally turning to Barratt with a huge grin.

  ‘Got him!’ she crowed.

  Chapter 32

  Sarah Armstrong smiled at Kate and Hollis as she settled into an overstuffed armchair but her eyes were wary.

  ‘What’s this about?’ she asked. They’d already established that she lived here with her mother who had been persuaded to go into town on a probably pointless errand. Kate suspected that Sarah had wanted her mother out of the way if she was going to have to relive her ordeal. In Kate’s experience it was much easier to get victims of crime to speak out if they weren’t surrounded by family members.

  ‘It’s about the attack that you reported four years ago,’ Kate said. She needed to get straight to the point and there was no sense in sugar-coating the reason for the visit. ‘We think the attacker might be active in South Yorkshire and we’d like you to help us. I know it’s painful for you to remember what happened but I was hoping that something might have come back to you since you made your statement. Something that might help us to catch this man.’

  The young woman’s face paled and she suddenly looked much younger than thirty-one as she thrust her hands in the pockets of jeans and pulled her legs up onto the seat of the chair. ‘I told the local police everything I can remember,’ she said. ‘I really don’t want to talk about it again.’

  Kate nodded, completely understanding the woman’s reluctance to relive the horrific event, but they needed the information. ‘I’m sorry, Sarah, I truly am. If there were any other way I’d not be here, but somebody has killed two women in Doncaster in the last two weeks and I think it may be the same man who attacked you.’

  Her pallor took on a slightly greenish hue and Kate wondered if Sarah was about to be sick. ‘He’s killed two women?’ Her voice was little more than a whisper, her dark eyes round with horror.

  ‘Two that we know about,’ Kate said. ‘The injuries were similar to the ones that you suffered. It took us a while to make the link but there’s a real possibility that this killer is your attacker. The first victim bore a striking resemblance to you.’

  She turned to Hollis who took out his phone and scrolled to a photograph of Melissa Buckley. Sarah barely glanced at it, her eyes drawn quickly back to Kate.

  ‘Was she pregnant?’

  Kate shook her head. ‘No. She was having IVF to try to get pregnant. The other victim wasn’t pregnant either. Do you think that’s important?’

  The other woman shrugged and lowered her eyes. ‘It seemed important when he attacked me. You know I lost a baby?’

  ‘I know,’ Kate said. ‘And I’m terribly sorry. If it is the same person then he’s escalated his behaviour. I don’t want any more women to die.’ Kate was choosing her words carefully and moderating the tone of her voice despite the frustration she felt at Sarah’s reluctance to talk. She could see that the woman was fragile but her experience could provide vital information.

  She pressed on. ‘You said that your pregnancy seemed important when you were attacked. Did he say something to give you that impression?’

  Another shrug.

  ‘Okay,’ Kate said, holding back a sigh of frustration. ‘Let’s try going back to what happened. You were attacked outside a pub in Haltwhistle?’

  Sarah nodded.

  ‘And your attacker dragged you down an alley behind the railway station?’

  No response. The woman’s eyes had become fixed on a point on the wall above Hollis’s head as though she were willing herself not to remember, not to relive what had happened to her.

  ‘He strangled you until you were unconscious and when you came round you were in hospital in Hexham. You can’t remember anything about him. This was all in your statement Sarah. Is it correct?’

  ‘Yes.’ The response was strong, definite, but Sarah still couldn’t look at Kate.

  Kate decided to change tack.

  ‘The baby? Was it your boyfriend’s?’

  ‘I… er… I didn’t have a boyfriend. I’d had a one-night stand and got pregnant. Stupid really. You’d think I was old enough to know better.’ Sarah smiled but the movement was almost mechanical and the emotion didn’t reach her eyes. Something wasn’t right here. Kate glanced across at Hollis. He was frowning at Sarah, his head slightly tilted to one side – obviously he’d sensed it as well.

  ‘Dan, could you make us some tea?’ Kate suggested. It was a strategy that they sometimes used when an interview subject seemed to have more to say but was showing reluctance. One detective could sometimes be a lot less intimidating than two and she thought it might work with Sarah Armstrong. Kate knew that Hollis would take his time and she trusted him not to interrupt at a crucial moment. She noticed that he left the sitting room door ajar as he left. He’d got the message.

  ‘Sarah,’ Kate tried again, leaning forwards to convey a sense of confidentiality. ‘I’m getting the feeling that there’s more to this than you’re telling me. Your original statement is very vague and I’d like to flesh it out. Can we try to fill in some gaps?’

  A single tear spilled down from Sarah’s right eye and she brushed it away distractedly, still refusing to look at Kate.

  ‘Shall we start with the baby?’

  ‘I had a one-night stand,’ Sarah repeated. ‘I honestly did. And I got pregnant.’

  ‘And you don’t think the father is the man who attacked you? To get rid of the baby?’

  Sarah shook her head vehemently. ‘There’s no way he could have known that I was pregnant.’

  ‘But somebody did. You weren’t that far along so you would have barely been showing. Do you think your attacker just happened to notice?’

  ‘I think he was going to rape me!’ Sarah spat. ‘And when he saw that I was expecting he cut me instead. That’s what I think but I was unconscious. How would I know?’

  Kate knew from the report that Sarah hadn’t been raped, yet she had been undressed from the waist down so the attacker may have noticed her swollen belly. Maybe the woman was right and he’d been intending to rape her but the pregnancy had put him off for some reason. It still didn’t quite add up though – the report Kate had read suggested that Sarah had only been a few weeks pregnant. Would a random attacker have spotted her condition? And if not, then why would he have cut her in such a specific way?

  ‘Sarah. I think you know who attacked you and you’re too frightened to tell me,’ Kate said, praying that her instinct was right. To suggest this to the young woman was a huge gamble but, if Kate was right, it might be the shock that Sarah needed to get her talking.

  Silence.

  ‘Sarah? Talk to me. If you know who this man is, then you can help me to stop him. He’s killed two women and he might kill more. Please, help me.’

  More silence.

  ‘Chloe Welsh was going to be a child psychologist. She loved kids and wanted to help them. Melissa Buckley’s husband loved her and wanted a family with her.’ Kate hated doing this but she had to get through to Sarah somehow. ‘Two lives cut short, Sarah. Don’t let him do it to anybody else.’
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  Sarah shook her head. ‘It’s not my fault.’

  ‘I know. You’re scared. But we can protect you if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  ‘No you can’t,’ Sarah sneered. ‘Who am I? Just a stupid woman from a grotty town. He’s educated, he’s clever. Nobody would ever believe me.’

  ‘Is that what he told you?’

  Sarah nodded miserably.

  ‘Come on, Sarah,’ Kate reached out and placed a hand on the other woman’s knee. ‘Talk to me. Tell me what really happened.’

  Chapter 33

  Hollis placed three mugs of tea on the side table next to Sarah’s chair and positioned himself on one corner of the sofa, unobtrusive but present. Kate had finally persuaded Sarah to talk and the young woman had agreed to have Hollis present to make notes. She looked terrified. Whatever her attacker had threatened her with, it had worked. He’d bought her silence for four years and it had taken all of Kate’s powers of persuasion to break down the barricade that Sarah had erected in her own mind.

  ‘Let’s start from the beginning,’ Kate said ‘How…?’

  ‘No.’ Sarah interrupted. ‘I need to tell this my way. I don’t want to answer lots of questions, I want you to listen.’ It was as if, having made her mind up to talk, Sarah had tapped some inner reserves of strength, leaving Kate and Hollis no choice but to listen.

  ‘I used to go out in Carlisle,’ Sarah began. ‘I could get the train in with my friends then we’d share a taxi back or crash on somebody’s floor. Usually on a Friday or a Saturday. We’d get hammered, you know, stupid really but it always seemed like fun at the time.’