by Helen Phifer
‘I read about that in the paper, such a dreadful carry-on and that poor girl Charlie too; she was always out on the street, bless her.’
‘Did you know either of them?’
‘I knew Charlie to say hello to. She liked my cat – would sit and talk to it.’
Morgan felt her heart begin to beat faster; the scratch on Charlie’s arm could have been a cat scratch, so that would have put her here just before she died.
‘Can I come in and see your cat?’
‘You can come in but I’m afraid you won’t be able to see him. I had to have him put to sleep in the summer. He was too old, and his back legs went from under him. Broke my heart. I can’t imagine how those girls’ mums are feeling.’
The adrenalin that had begun to pump around her body stopped. She smiled at the woman.
‘Are there many cats in this street?’
She was waiting for her to say hundreds.
‘The house three doors down has a horrible one, it’s always hissing and fighting. Big ginger thing it is, never stops miaowing either. I’ve had to come down and throw water at it before to chase it away. Most people around here have dogs. You see them out walking them, but not so many cats. There’s also a big white one that comes around but I don’t think it’s from this end of the street.’
Morgan looked at the house three doors down: that would be number thirteen, Elliot Fleming’s house, where Eleanor disappeared from. She looked at the numbers on the palm of her hand: it wasn’t there, so they had been spoken to on the initial investigations and she’d been back to speak to Elliot. But she suddenly had a terrible feeling that she had missed something.
‘Thank you so much.’
‘You’re welcome, lovey.’
The door closed, and Morgan walked along the path and along the street to number thirteen. She stared at the gate; it had seen better days and the house was badly lacking a coat of paint. The wooden windows must be the originals from when the house was built, all the other houses had double glazing, but these had once been painted green and yellow, at least what was left was. The paint had chipped and flaked off, leaving the wood rotting and weathered. She looked around for a cat but didn’t see one. As she turned, she could see Charlie’s house on the opposite side, just a few doors up. Did you come here, Charlie, to see the cat and it scratched you? Or am I looking for a miracle? And did you really run away, Eleanor, or are you still here? She knocked on the door and waited and waited but no one answered. She pressed her ear to the door. She couldn’t hear anything from inside.
Instead of wasting time, she went to the next house on her list, deciding to keep an eye on the front garden of number thirteen. She would try again later. The other houses on her list all opened the door and invited her inside to look around. By the time she’d finished at the last house, she was feeling more than a little deflated. As she said goodbye to the woman with three children at number twenty-six, she spied a figure scurrying through the gate of thirteen with their head down.
‘Hello, hello.’
Whoever it was never turned around, and Morgan splashed her way along the pavement back to the house. The front door was already shut but at least she knew someone was home. If they didn’t answer she would come back with a warrant. She hammered on the door a little too loud, not giving them the excuse that they didn’t hear her knocking. This time she heard footsteps inside the hall. There was the sound of a heavy bolt being drawn back and the door opened wide.
‘Hello again, Elliot.’
He beamed at her, the smile friendly. He was dressed in an old-fashioned purple and yellow shell suit with a pair of purple and pink Nikes on his feet, a pair of purple gloves on his hands: he could have given Prince a run for his money any day.
‘Hello again, you seem to be spending a lot of time around here.’ He leant towards her and whispered, ‘I’ve been baking this morning, would you like a cake?’
‘Can I come in?’
He paused, his eyes flicking behind him then back at her.
‘I just need to have a chat with you if that’s okay. Nothing to worry about; we’re still making enquiries into a missing girl.’
He lifted a finger to his lips. ‘You can as long as you’re quiet. Mother doesn’t like noise or strangers, so we better not wake her up.’
Morgan smiled at him, thinking what a funny thing to say. She whispered back, ‘Of course, I’ll be quiet.’
‘Good, you can come inside then.’
He stepped to one side to let her in, shutting the door behind her. He led her along a long hall to the kitchen, where the sight of a large plate of cakes sitting on the worktop made her stomach groan.
‘What have you been baking? It smells lovely in here and they look amazing.’
‘Thank you, I adore baking. Earlier this morning I made salted caramel and white chocolate cupcakes. I haven’t iced them yet; well, I prefer buttercream to icing – it’s a much nicer texture – but you’re welcome to try one with a cup of tea. I had to nip out to the shop to buy more butter. Mother complains about the money and time I spend baking, but she doesn’t complain when she’s eating them.’
Morgan stifled a laugh, so it ended up coming out as a snort. Not wanting to wake his mother up, she clapped her hand across her mouth. Although the house was run-down from the outside and inside was a floral tribute to the seventies, it was clean and tidy, but she still wouldn’t eat anything because how was she to know if Elliot’s hand hygiene was as bad as his dress sense?
‘I’m okay, thank you, though. That’s very kind of you.’
Something nudged her leg with quite a shove, and she looked down to see a huge ginger cat that was the size of a small dog. It began to rub against her trouser leg then it let out a loud meow.
Elliot turned around, his eyes wide. ‘Shh, you stupid cat.’ As cats do, it took no notice of him and meowed even louder. ‘Oh God it wants you to stroke it, or it won’t shut up. Would you mind?’
‘Of course not, I like animals although I don’t have any myself.’ She bent down and began to stroke it behind its ears, which resulted in a purring so loud it sounded like lawnmower.
‘Oh, he likes you. He’s a pain, always hungry, always wanting attention.’
Morgan stroked it’s back and let out a yelp. ‘Ouch.’ She lifted her hand to examine it and saw a long, thin line of blood on the back of her hand. Every hair on the back of her neck began to prickle. She looked at Elliot who was shooing the cat out of the door. He turned around to her.
‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know why it does that. You’d think it was happy to get some attention then it goes and does a nasty thing like that.’
‘Does he scratch a lot?’
He nodded. ‘Come on, let me get you cleaned up. I have a first aid kit under the sink.’
Morgan felt her skin crawl as fear snaked along the base of her spine. Her stomach lurched: he still hadn’t taken off the gloves. ‘It’s okay, I’m allergic to plasters. Please could I use your toilet though? I’m desperate for a wee, and I’ll wash it under the tap.’
Elliot glanced at the staircase, then back at her.
‘I suppose so, but you mustn’t wake my mother. She won’t be happy I’ve let a stranger in the house. It’s the third door on the right.’
‘Thank you, I won’t wake her, I promise.’ Morgan stood up, trying to stay calm and not let him know that she knew what he was. Her legs felt as if they were going to give way. She was in this house alone with a potential killer. Charlie must have stroked the cat and got scratched. Was that how she ended up in here? She smiled at him and began to walk to the stairs, wishing she’d brought her phone inside with her. She looked around to see that there was an old-fashioned rotary dial house phone on a table at the foot of the stairs. She could phone for help off that if she had to. The thought that she might be so close to Macy wasn’t lost on her, and she listened intently as she walked up the stairs. This house was much bigger inside than it looked. She paused, counting the do
ors; there were six altogether, although one of them looked like a built-in cupboard.
Elliot whispered from the bottom of the stairs, ‘Third door on the right.’
She nodded and walked towards it, trying to work out how long it would take her to open the other doors and check in each room. They all had old-fashioned locks on them, with keys in the locks, on the outside, except for one at the front of the house, where the lock had no key. Morgan went in the bathroom and began running the cold water tap, holding her stinging hand underneath it. The pulse in her hand was throbbing in time to the racing of her heart. She took care to wipe it on a clean towel, so if anything happened to her there would hopefully be some traces of her blood and DNA left on it.
She left the tap running and opened the door slowly. Peering out into the landing, she couldn’t see Elliot and stepped out, creeping towards the door which had no key in the lock. As she reached the door, she bent down to peer through the lock and whispered, ‘Macy’, before she felt an almighty thump on the side of her head and she collapsed to her knees.
Forty-Four
Amy glared at Des the entire way through the briefing and he purposely didn’t look her way. She was fuming with him for having no backbone and turning around to come back. Tom, who was standing at the front of the packed room with Claire, kept looking at the pair of them, but she didn’t care.
‘Thanks for coming, we have a busy day today, there’s a lot going on – the search for Macy Wallace being the top priority. We also think that her abductor attacked DS Matthews early this morning, and he is currently in hospital with two cracked ribs, a broken nose and multiple injuries to his face and head. This is a dangerous man, as he has clearly demonstrated. Whilst you are out there you must be vigilant. I do not want anyone on their own, everyone is to be double crewed.’
Amy finally took her eyes off Des and took her phone out to message Morgan.
Hey, wait in the car. Inspector has ordered us all to be doubled up, wait for me and Des to get to you.
Tom was pointing at a map of the woods that were covered yesterday, and the riverside.
‘We pretty much covered three quarters of the woods yesterday, thanks to the help from Mountain Rescue. I want the rest of them boxed off. I also want the area around Piggy Lane searched just in case.’
Amy held up her hand. ‘We’ll take Piggy Lane.’
He nodded.
‘Claire will tell the rest of you what to do about Macy.’
He walked towards the door, bent down and whispered in Amy’s ear, ‘A word.’
She stood up and followed him outside, everyone watching them. He didn’t stop. He carried on upstairs to his office and she followed him. He didn’t speak until they were inside with the door shut.
‘Where exactly is Morgan? If you tell me she’s at the hospital with Ben that’s fine, but anywhere else isn’t. And what’s the deal with you and Des? You keep staring at him like Christine does to me whenever I’ve royally pissed her off. Spill the beans, Amy. I know you’re all a close-knit team and I appreciate your loyalty to each other, but we know what happens when we let Morgan loose. I’m concerned for her safety. A potential killer was waiting outside her address, and he may be after her next. I’m not going to see her get hurt again, not when I’m in charge.’
He wasn’t shouting, he hadn’t even raised his voice, he genuinely looked worried and she decided to come clean.
‘With all due respect, sir, when Morgan gets loose she usually uncovers a murderer. She’s out looking for Macy. All three of us were supposed to be, but Des chickened out and came back for the briefing. Morgan thinks that whoever took her lives in the same area. We were going to knock on all the doors and ask to search the houses. We only took people at face value when they were initially asked on the nights both girls went missing.’
He began to rub his hand across his chin, scrubbing the stubble which Amy noticed for the first time. Tom was always clean-shaven and impeccably dressed, but his shirt was rumpled and his tie was loosened. Seeing how distraught he looked brought it all home to her, exactly what they were dealing with: the enormity of it was weighing heavy on his shoulders.
‘Without warrants?’
‘How are we supposed to get warrants for that many houses, in so short a time, sir? We’re relying on people’s good will, for now. Anyone who declines gets put on the list to look closer at. I know it’s crazy, but it’s the best we have, and I think it’s a pretty good idea. He didn’t leave Charlie’s body in the woods. So why do you think he is going to be holding Macy there?’
Tom nodded. ‘Find Morgan and carry on with that line of enquiry. Anyone who is less than helpful let me know. I’ll get Tracy in Intel to run in depth checks on them. And be careful.’
‘What about Piggy Lane?’
‘I’ll go there myself. Amy, please be careful, and don’t let her out of your sight.’
She nodded, thinking, it’s a bit late for that, boss but she didn’t say it out loud.
‘Thanks, boss.’
Forty-Five
Macy was sitting up on the bed, her knees drawn to her chest. She was sure she’d heard a woman’s voice call her name. Terror that his mother had found her filled her insides with ice. She had a free hand and the scissors, but she didn’t know what he kept doing to her – she was sleepy all the time. She thought maybe he was giving her some kind of medicine. The door opened and Macy sucked in her breath. He had his back to her and was dragging something heavy. He bumped and pulled the body into the room, dragging it by the ankles, muttering, ‘How dare you come here, asking questions then sneak around in my house like that? What if you’d woken Mother? Then we’d all be in so much trouble, and why are you so damn heavy?’ His voice was raised in anger.
Macy’s eyes were wide open and there was a mewling sound coming from inside of her that she couldn’t stop, the terror was so real. She’d never seen a dead body before and didn’t want to now. He carried on dragging the woman towards the radiator.
‘She’s asleep; she fell and hit her head. Shut up making that racket. I’m just putting her here until she wakes up and then you can both go home okay, because I never asked for this to happen.’
Macy nodded.
‘Good. Christ, she’s heavy.’
He dropped her feet and disappeared. Coming back moments later with some rope, he began to tie her hands, wrapping it around her wrists, knotting and knotting it, hoping she wouldn’t be able to escape. The woman let out a soft moan, and Macy realised she was still alive and felt a spark of hope that maybe she could help her escape. He then took a scarf and used it to gag the woman like he’d done to her. He pulled it tight then knotted that as well. He stood up and nodded his head. Macy couldn’t stop staring.
‘What would you like for breakfast? I bet you’re starving. Do you need to go pee? I’ve been baking, and I was just going to bring you something to eat when I was rudely interrupted.’
She looked at the woman on the floor, then at him and shook her head.
‘Are you sure? It would be much easier now whilst Mother is still asleep if you want the toilet. After, you’ll have to use the bucket and that’s not very nice, is it?’
She carried on shaking her head; she didn’t want to be separated from this woman.
‘Suit yourself, I’ll bring you something up anyway.’
He left them to it, locking the door behind him, and Macy continued staring at the woman, who had blood trickling down the side of her head. She heard the man running down the stairs and the radio turned on somewhere. Macy knew they didn’t have much time before he came back with her breakfast and began to work furiously at the binding on her wrist.
Forty-Six
Ben had just been told he was being moved to Ward Five for a twenty-four hour stay, to monitor him because of his head injuries. He nodded, too scared of Doctor White to argue with her. As soon as she left, though, he took out his phone and rang Morgan. It didn’t even ring before going to voicemail.
/> ‘Hi, come rescue me, please, as soon as you pick this up. I can go home. Thanks.’
Even the simple movement of reaching for his phone off the table had caused immense pain in his side, despite the morphine. He breathed out; he didn’t care, there was no way he was staying in here any longer than he needed to.
A voice on the other side of the curtain said, ‘Knock, knock,’ and Cain popped his head through.
‘Where is she?’
‘Who?’
‘That scary doctor.’
‘Looking for a porter to take me to Ward Five. Help me up, Cain, I need to get out of here.’
Cain looked at him, horrified. ‘No, boss, I’m not that brave.’
‘Do it, I’ll take the blame. It’s a direct order.’
Cain sighed. ‘I don’t want to burst your bubble but you’re wearing a hospital gown, boss. We took your clothes earlier for CSI to examine.’
‘I don’t care, cuff me and pretend you’ve arrested me.’
‘Boss, this is crazy.’
‘Just do it, but you’ll have to help me off the bed.’
Cain grabbed Ben’s legs and swung them off the side of the bed, then slipping an arm underneath his he pulled him to his feet. The pain was so intense Ben gritted his teeth to stop himself from groaning out loud. He held out his hands in front of him.
‘Cuff me and walk me out of the nearest exit, but make sure you hold this gown at the back. I’m not flashing my arse to the whole of the A&E waiting room. Cain, that is definitely a direct order.’
Cain did as he was told, leading Ben out of the exit, through the waiting room and out to the van that was parked in the police bay.
‘Can you climb in?’ He opened the door and stood behind Ben, ready to shove him in the back of the van in case the doctor came looking for him. Ben lifted a leg up and groaned, but he grabbed onto the back of the seat and dragged himself inside, where he fell onto the seat clutching at his side, colds beads of perspiration forming on his forehead. Cain slammed the door shut, rushed around to the driver’s side and drove away as if he was going to an emergency call.
