Betrayal of Innocence (A New Adventure Begins - Star Elite Book 1)

by Rebecca King

  With one last look at the body at his feet, he tugged the collar of his jacket up and slowly ambled away. He would come back of course, but he had more work to do before the night was over. Like a wraith in the moonlight, he slid back into the woods which had once housed a warm afternoon of teasing joy, but now stood a haunting echo of what once was. It would never hear the infectious laughter of joyous youth or house an afternoon of frolics between two carefree lovers. Not once the villagers heard of the murder. The woods neighbouring their homes would swiftly gain a reputation for being haunted. Nobody would venture near unless they absolutely had to.

  “Well, I have to,” he murmured quietly.

  He paused when he heard quiet rustling in the undergrowth a few feet away. Fingers clenching, he scowled and remained perfectly still while he waited. Suddenly, a rabbit hopped out from between the trees. It paused in the middle of the path before him, sniffed the air and waited. Man studied animal. Animal studied man. The rabbit lifted its nose, as if to scent the air. Whatever it scented in him, with a twitch of its tail it scuttled off.

  Heaving a sigh, the man watched it disappear before he resumed his journey. It was impossible to go home just yet. Not least because he had to do something with the girl. It was a shame she had had to go. While he had enjoyed the afternoon with her, that laughter of hers had started to grate on his nerves. She had swiftly become irritating, and while he had liked the way she had looked at him, there was something deep within him; an inner voice of menace, that had taunted him, urging him over and over to stop her annoying habit of avoiding him. He hated that. He didn’t like it when people avoided him. He hated it. He hated them.

  When the world around him started to fade and become overwhelmed by darkness again, the man glanced about him, his gaunt features fearful. As usual, he felt the same disturbing darkness settle over him, despite his best efforts to keep it away. It was so fetid, so stench-filled that he couldn’t stand it but was helpless to deny anything it demanded of him. He was its servant, it was a simple as that. It was the voice, the horrible feelings that resurfaced that made him do it. It wasn’t him. He knew it wasn’t. It couldn’t be him. He couldn’t ever be so vile; so inhumane as to take another person’s life. It was the voice.

  “It’s the voices,” he whispered aloud, as if saying the words would confirm it.

  He looked down at his hands and clenched his fists again when he saw how much they trembled. They didn’t feel like his hands anymore. But they were. He just didn’t know what they did, or why. Taking her life had been something he truly hadn’t wanted to do, but he knew he had to. They wouldn’t leave him alone if he hadn’t killed her, just like they had told him to. He knew that for a fact. Every time he had thought about taking another one, and chosen not to, the voices and feelings had grown worse, until he had been forced to take another one so he found the blessed silence that followed.

  “Like now,” he muttered. “I have blessed silence right now.”

  He smiled and heaved a relieved sigh. As they usually did, the disturbing feelings eased with the satisfaction of having done his job well. Without even bothering to glance over his shoulder, he slowly wandered around the woods. Carefully picking a spot deep within the thick copse of trees, he dropped to his knees and began to dig. He hadn’t thought to bring a shovel. It would have looked too odd for him to carry it through the village, and he hated it when people looked at him, so he had to make do. His hands needed something to do anyway, if only to stop them shaking, so he began to scoop out great mounds of earth with his fingers.

  Time was irrelevant to him. He had no idea how long it took, but he didn’t stop. Thankfully, the girl wasn’t all that big. He didn’t have to move too much soil.

  When he was satisfied he had moved enough earth, he went to fetch the body.

  Half an hour later, he stood at the foot of the make-shift grave and took a moment to respectfully say the Lord’s Prayer. He finished his impromptu service by crossing himself. Now that his job was complete, he brushed his hands off and began to make his way home.

  Of course, not all his victims ended up the same way. The others were different, but he didn’t want to think about them right now because that awful feeling would come back again, and he didn’t want that. No, he didn’t want that. Not yet. But soon.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Two days later, the magistrate unwittingly stood in the same spot the killer, also staring down at the body in the make-shift grave. Weeks shook his head sadly. The weight of the world was bearing down on his shoulders and there was nothing he could do about it.

  “When are the Star Elite getting here?” he asked Dixon, his assistant.

  Dixon, who was still on his knees studying the ligature marks around the young girls’ neck, looked up at his boss.

  “Should be here any day now. I have yet to have the mail today,” Dixon replied solemnly. “They had better hurry up, though.”

  “There are times when I really hate this job,” Weeks sighed.

  “Aye, it’s a rum job, and that’s a fact,” Herriman, Dixon’s second in command murmured sadly. “The family are going to be distraught.”

  “Why has he taken to killing them?” Dixon whispered.

  Weeks snorted. “He might not have taken to killing them,” he replied dourly. “We have just not found the bodies of the other victims yet.”

  “We have to consider they have all been murdered,” Herriman added. “This is a murder investigation now.”

  “We can’t change anything yet. They are still assumed kidnapped. Understand? We can’t just assume they are dead. People will stop looking for them. There is still a chance they might be alive somewhere.” Even Weeks didn’t believe that, not now, and his doubt was evident in his tone.

  “We won’t stop looking,” Dixon declared harshly. “But what do we tell the search parties who are out looking for her?”

  “The truth,” Weeks growled. “But we have to be careful what we say.”

  “The villagers will be uneasy now, and will automatically assume the rest are dead,” Dixon replied.

  “Well we will just have to assure them otherwise, won’t we?” Weeks snapped.

  “Yes sir,” Dixon and Herriman dutifully replied.

  “I will go and inform her family,” Weeks murmured, his entire demeanour reluctant.

  He made no attempt to move. He studied the ground beneath their feet but knew it would be impossible to get any evidence from it. The branches littering the floor were all broken, mostly because of their presence, but that couldn’t be helped. The nettles, thistles, and fallen and decaying twigs hid any trace of anybody else’s boot prints. There was no point searching.

  “You found her like this?” he asked of the farmer who stood, pale and shaken, on the edge of the woods about ten feet away.

  The farmer gulped and quickly averted his eyes when his gaze fell instinctively to the young girl they were talking about.

  “I thought it was one of the sheep. My eyes ain’t that good now. When I got closer I then thought it was a rabbit but when I moved the branch-” He shook his head, too sickened by what he had discovered to say anything more.

  His stomach roiled alarmingly but that was more down to the alarming smell coming from the decomposing corpse. It was disturbing how little the lawmen seemed to be affected by it. Quickly trying to think of something to say to change the subject and get his mind off the possibility of losing the contents of his stomach, he glanced around.

  “Who are the Star Elite?” he asked.

  “Professionals from London who are going to investigate the disappearances,” Weeks replied officiously, seeing no reason to lie to the man.

  He had been assured by his good friend, Sir Hugo, that help would be sent. After this, he knew he was going to need all the assistance he could get.

  The presence of ‘outsiders’ investigating poor Felicity’s death, and the others’ disappearance would reassure the villagers, but also unsettle them at the same time
. Strangers couldn’t be trusted. That was what the villagers firmly believed anyway. That said, if it became known the Star Elite were in the village to hunt for clues, and the killer was nearby, their presence might be enough to stop this horrendous barbarity once and for all. He hoped so in any case.

  “I want you to tell nobody about this right now,” Weeks ordered the farmer, Mr Benson. “I need time to tell the family. I am sure you understand.” It wasn’t a question. He didn’t care if the farmer understood or not.

  Mr Benson nodded. “Aye, you can count on me.”

  “Leave this to us. For now, just go home and discuss this with nobody. When you hear news of the death then you can mention you were the one who found her if you like, it is up to you. We aren’t going to make it public for now. We will just tell everyone that a member of the public found her and leave it at that.”

  Mr Benson nodded gratefully. He was aware of the rather judgemental characteristics of some of the villagers who would make his life Hell if they chose to suspect him.

  “I need to ask you some more questions at some point, Mr Benson,” Weeks declared with a nod. “So, don’t go anywhere.”

  “Aye. You take as long as you want. Do you want to use my cart? You know, for er-” He waved ineffectually at the body.

  “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. She must go to the mortuary for the doctor to examine. I will send one of my men over to get the mortuary cart over here. Leave that to us, Mr Benson. Thank you.”

  Weeks nodded dismissively and waited until the farmer had left the area.

  “Do you think he is responsible?” Herriman asked when the man had gone.

  “We cannot take anything for granted in this game,” Weeks replied. “We have to consider every possibility, and person, until we can rule them out.”

  “Are we still going to be involved in the investigation once the Star Elite arrive?” Dixon frowned. He wasn’t at all sure whether he wanted to work with anyone on this. It felt as though it was a private matter seeing as he lived in the village himself. He didn’t see why Weeks had felt the need to call in help from anybody, but of course, he didn’t say as much to Weeks.

  He had heard, through gossip running rife amongst lawman circles, that the Star Elite were a formidable force nobody really would be wise to mess with. They had connections in high places, and authority to do practically anything they wanted to do, whenever they wanted. No doors could be barred to them, and nobody was in any position to deny them anything they wanted. There were rumours afoot amongst his contacts in Derbyshire that the Star Elite were solely responsible for the demise of Terrance Sayers, a well-known gangster whose crimes had infiltrated practically every county. While details were sketchy, the sudden disappearance of the gangster, together with the cessation of his many criminal activities, together with the local and regional gaols suddenly bursting at the seams had generated a lot of speculation. Of course, nothing could be proven, such was the nature of the organisation everyone talked of, but nobody really knew much about.

  Despite this, Dixon still didn’t want to work with them.

  “We are going to have to assist them, but we won’t be part of their investigation unless they ask us for our involvement,” Weeks replied cautiously. “I hate to say it, but this is completely out of our remit. I have no experience in anything like this.” He waved to the young girl at their feet.

  “This is far too close to home,” Herriman replied.

  “I do hope they hurry up,” Dixon replied as he pushed to his feet. He turned around and, with his back to the woods, stared at the village he called home. “I think we have got a killer in our midst.”

  “Well, let’s get her moved. She can’t stay here like this. The sun will be warming up soon and this situation is going to get worse,” Weeks murmured as he quickly moved to his horse, and away from the stench that hovered over all of them.

  He didn’t think he would ever be able to forget the smell he had endured this morning. It was something that would remain with him for the rest of his life, he was sure of it. To think of someone – anyone – working with such things and not being disturbed by it was, well, disturbing. With a shudder, he put as much distance between him and the corpse as he could, and began to suck in deep breaths of fresh, clean air as soon as he was able. It did little to ease the churning in his stomach, though, and he swallowed uncomfortably as he turned his horse around.

  “I am going to see the family and will then go home to see if the Star Elite has arrived. You had better go and notify the doctor and get her moved to wherever he wants. Keep this quiet, though. I don’t want this discussing right now.”

  “What do we do about the search parties?” Herriman asked. “They are still looking for her.”

  “Just tell them-” Weeks paused and thought about that. He shook his head, well aware that most of the villagers had been out searching for Felicity since her father had raised the alarm in the tavern late last night. Thankfully, none of the search parties had ventured this far given how poor the light was, but it would only be a matter of time before one of them did.

  “I can’t leave them to keep searching,” he muttered.

  “What’s that?” Herriman asked with a scowl.

  “Tell them she has been found, but don’t give any details right now.”

  “They will want to know,” Dixon warned.

  “Well, for now just stay out of the way. Herriman, you go and get the doctor and don’t delay or stop to talk to anybody. Get the body covered and out of the area within the hour if you can. I don’t want a load of hawkers up here. By the time you have it sorted, I will have informed her parents. They can tell me what they want people to know.”

  “Want me to come with you?” Dixon offered helpfully.

  Weeks considered it for a moment but then shook his head.

  “I can manage,” he muttered grimly. “Just get on with removing her.”

  Weeks nudged his horse into a walk, suddenly eager to be on his way.

  He rode through the village at a steady trot, only lifting his hands to those villagers he was friendly with. To everyone else, he was busy going about his official business and didn’t bother to slow down.

  Minutes later, he reluctantly dismounted outside Felicity Inson’s house. Felicity, being their only daughter, was going to be a great loss to the people inside the small cottage. While he walked up the narrow path to the front door, Weeks braced himself for what was about to happen. He squared his shoulders and lifted his hand to knock, but mentally cursed when the front door was suddenly yanked open, and Mr Inson appeared in the doorway.

  Mr Inson’s eyes widened when he saw the grim look on Week’s face. His face suddenly crumpled. Behind him, his wife let out a wailing cry of disbelief and fell to the floor beneath the weight of the grief that struck her.

  “Can I come in?” Weeks asked quietly.

  Silently, Mr Inson nodded and stood back to let him in.

  Later that day, Justin, and the men from the Star Elite, rode steadily through the village.

  “It’s quiet,” Jasper murmured, studying the myriad shops and houses lining the narrow, cobbled streets of the tiny village which clutched precariously to the side of the rural hillock.

  “Where is everyone?” Angus growled.

  He peered into one of the houses they passed and lifted his brows when the shutter immediately slammed closed. Somewhere to his left he heard the distinct sound of a bolt being slammed shut and lifted his brows.

  “Not very friendly, are they?” Oliver muttered, his ears tuned to the deathly silence which was only interrupted by the rhythmic clackety clack of their horses’ hooves.

  “Something is wrong,” Justin whispered. A deep sense of unease settled heavily across his broad shoulders as they ventured closer to the village green.

  “Where do we find this Weeks person?” Niall asked from the rear of the group.

  “Instructions tell us he has an office on outskirts of town,” Philli
p replied conversationally, studying the area with wary concern. “But we have to go to his home to meet him. We are to go to the green, take the far left lane and follow it for about a quarter of a mile.”

  “I suggest we veto securing rooms in the tavern for now. Let’s go and find out what’s happening with Weeks,” Justin suggested.

  “I hope to God the village isn’t like this all the damned time,” Angus growled. “Or it is going to be a nightmare trying to get people to talk to us.”

  It was something of a relief when they finally dismounted outside a large square house standing a few feet away from the road, a small sign over the door declaring: A Weeks, Magistrate.

  “Let’s go and hear what he has to say,” Justin breathed.

  “Thank God you are here,” Weeks declared effusively when he opened the door and saw the group of heavily armed lawmen waiting on his doorstep. He took an instinctive step back such was the menacing air they carried. Even so, he was hugely relieved to see them, and hurriedly stood back to wave them inside.

  Before he closed the door, though, he peered cautiously up and down the street, and mentally gave thanks that none of the villagers appeared to have noticed them. Quickly slamming the door closed, he summoned his housekeeper and informed her that the guests had arrived before he led the men out of his cramped hallway and into the more comfortable confines of his study.

  “I believe you are expecting us,” Justin murmured once he had introduced himself and stepped back to allow his colleagues to do the same.

  “I am glad you are here,” Weeks replied. He waved everyone in to seats and offered them brandy.

  “Is there some sort of problem in the village?” Angus asked curiously as he accepted a goblet off the magistrate with a grateful nod. “We have just been through it; it is practically dead.”