Scared to Death (A Detective Kay Hunter novel)

by Rachel Amphlett

  ‘Yes. He was on his way from another call. Arrived ten minutes before you.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘He’s in there now.’

  ‘Nothing you could do to save her?’

  His eyes clouded, and he shook his head. ‘It’s pretty bad. Girl’s hanging down the drain by her neck.’ He frowned. ‘It’s hard to ascertain from the parents what they might have touched. They definitely removed the drain cover to try to reach the girl. We haven’t touched anything in there, and the scene’s been preserved. We got fingerprints off the parents to eliminate those for forensics.’

  ‘Good work, thank you.’ She turned to the other detective who had wandered over. ‘Right, Ian,’ she said, ‘you speak to the husband, I’ll have a word with the wife.’

  ‘Okay.’ Barnes nodded, and made his way over to the couple.

  Kay waited a moment, and then joined him, making a beeline for the woman. ‘Yvonne Richards?’

  The woman nodded.

  ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Kay Hunter. I’m very sorry to hear about your daughter, but I need to ask you some questions.’

  The woman looked to her husband, who was already conversing with Barnes. He glanced up, nodded, and turned back to the other detective.

  A tear rolled down her cheek, yet she seemed oblivious, and it was all Kay could do not to wipe it away.

  Instead, she turned the page of her notebook and pressed on, keeping her voice calm.

  ‘Yvonne, when Tony made the triple nine call, he said Melanie had been taken five days ago. Why didn’t you call the police then?’

  The woman choked back a sob, and clasped her hands together.

  ‘We didn’t know she was gone. We’ve been in Europe. We – we only got back two days ago, and that’s when he phoned. He said he’d kill her if we called the police. He said he’d rape her first, and make us listen.’ She broke off, and her hands fluttered to her mouth. ‘He said he thought we didn’t believe him, and then he made her scream.’

  Kay glanced across to where Barnes was talking to Tony Richards. She frowned, and saw that DC Barnes had his hand on Tony’s arm, and seemed to be steadying him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Kay, directing her gaze back to Yvonne. ‘I have to ask these questions.’

  The woman flapped a hand. ‘I know. I know. Oh, god—’

  She sniffed loudly, took the paper tissue Kay handed to her, and blew her nose.

  Kay took a moment, and then continued.

  ‘Have you any idea why Melanie was taken?’

  Yvonne shook her head. ‘We’re not rich,’ she managed, ‘despite what it might look like to some. Tony doesn’t work – my business is doing well, so he stays home.’ She gulped. ‘It’s nice for Mel to have someone there when she gets home from school in the afternoons.’

  ‘What did the kidnapper say he wanted?’

  ‘Twenty thousand pounds.’

  Kay kept her face passive, and wrote the figure in her notebook, placing a question mark next to it.

  ‘What timeframe did he give you?’

  ‘Today.’ Yvonne frowned. ‘He was very precise – we had to drop it off between six-thirty and seven o’clock this morning.’

  ‘How did you give him the money?’

  ‘We had to put it in a padded envelope,’ said Yvonne. ‘He told us to put it in the post box on Channing Lane – the road that runs behind the industrial park.’

  ‘In the post box?’

  ‘Only enough so the end still poked out.’ Yvonne shivered. ‘Tony had to do it. My hands were shaking so much, I thought I’d let it go, and then what would we have done?’

  Kay turned to the uniformed officer closest to her.

  ‘Take your car. Preserve the scene. You know what to do. Go.’

  The man didn’t hesitate. He called out to his colleague and they ran towards their car, the lights flaring a second before the siren began to wail, and they tore from the kerb.

  Kay watched them leave, and then turned back to Yvonne. ‘What happened next?’

  ‘We drove away, like he told us. We had to park in the car park next to the library in Allington. He called us, said he had the money, and gave the address of where we could find Mel. He told us to hurry, because time was running out.’

  The roar of an engine interrupted them, and Kay turned to see a dark panel van braking next to the unmarked police car before its driver threw it into reverse and drew to a halt next to the open gates of the biosciences building.

  The driver climbed out of the vehicle and made her way over to the side of the building.

  A man in overalls emerged from the facility and joined her before they began to converse in hushed tones.

  ‘Who’s that?’

  Yvonne’s voice held a tremor.

  ‘The head of the crime scene investigation team,’ said Kay. She guided Yvonne away from the building, and turned so the woman’s back was to the two figures.

  Before long, the side of the van slid open, and the team began to assemble, their actions swift and well-rehearsed.

  Kay’s head snapped round at a yell from Barnes.

  ‘Call an ambulance!’

  Her eyes opened wide as she saw Tony Richards sink to the ground, before Barnes grabbed his arm to break his fall and helped the man to sit.

  Kay didn’t hesitate. She hit triple nine on her mobile phone and rattled off the details to the control room as she ran towards the stricken man, Yvonne’s footsteps close behind.

  They reached Tony at the same time.

  ‘What happened?’

  Barnes crouched next to the man, pulled his wrist towards him, and held his index finger against the thin skin. ‘Chest pains.’

  ‘Oh, god – Tony.’

  Yvonne Richards sank to the ground next to her husband, whose face had whitened, and grabbed his other hand.

  A croak emitted from his lips, and his eyes closed a moment before he slumped sideways.

  Kay reached out and ripped open the man’s shirt, buttons scattering over the ground, before she balled her hand into a fist and beat the man’s chest once, hard.

  Barnes leaned over, gently straightened the man’s head, steadied it between his hands, and nodded to Kay.

  She started the compressions, one hand placed over the other across Tony’s ribs.

  Sweat broke out between her shoulder blades, but the man remained unresponsive after several minutes.

  ‘Sarge? You want me to take over?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said.

  She swore inwardly.

  Tony Richards didn’t look an unhealthy man, but there was no telling what shock could do to a person.

  Right now, she had to remain calm. She couldn’t let the man’s wife see her panic, not with what she was already going through.

  ‘Boss, I’ll take over.’

  Barnes nudged her out of the way, and she rocked back on her heels, grateful for the respite.

  Tony emitted a gasp, and his eyes fluttered open.

  ‘Tony!’

  Yvonne Richards shoved Barnes aside, and wrapped her arms around her husband’s chest.

  ‘Mrs Richards, please,’ said Barnes. He gently pulled her away. ‘Let him get some air.’

  The sound of approaching sirens carried on the wind, and Kay straightened as the ambulance rounded the corner.

  She hurried to meet it; pointing out the access route they should take to reach their patient, and waited while they hurriedly pulled overalls, gloves, and plastic booties over their uniforms to avoid contaminating the scene.

  She followed the path they took with the stretcher, the rattle and clang of wheels across the cracked concrete surface setting her teeth on edge.

  She stood close as they assessed Tony’s vital signs, their voices calm as they worked. The elder of the two stood and gestured to her to step to one side with him, out of earshot of Yvonne.

  ‘We’re going to have to take him,’ he said. ‘You’ve done well, but we need to get him to hospital now. It’s too ri
sky to wait.’

  ‘You were told on the way over what’s happened here?’ Kay raised an eyebrow.

  The paramedic nodded. ‘We’ll let the hospital know when we get there, and request they keep you informed.’

  Kay handed him one of her business cards. ‘Thank you. Go.’

  He nodded, and within minutes they had loaded Tony onto the stretcher and wheeled him towards the back of the ambulance.

  Kay hurried over to Yvonne Richards, who was being comforted by one of the police officers, her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide as she watched her husband be stretchered away.

  The woman looked over her shoulder towards the industrial building where the body of her daughter had been found, then back to the ambulance.

  Kay stepped forward, and put her hand on the woman’s arm.

  ‘Go with your husband. I’ll stay with your daughter.’

  The woman’s eyes met hers, confusion crossing her face, and Kay saw then that it was the right decision. The woman needed to get to hospital anyway, before shock set in and she too suffered any kind of medical condition.

  ‘Go with this man,’ she reiterated. ‘He’ll take you to the hospital with your husband.’

  One of the paramedics nodded, and began to steer the woman towards the waiting ambulance, its blue lights blinking across the wall of the biosciences facility.

  Yvonne squeezed Kay’s fingers before she was out of reach.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, and then hurried through the back doors of the ambulance to be with her husband.

  Kay flipped her notebook shut and tucked it into her handbag, then rolled an elastic band off her wrist and tied back her shoulder-length blonde hair.

  ‘Right, you bastard,’ she muttered. ‘Let’s see what you did to her.’

  THREE

  Kay left her bag on the floor next to the uniformed police officer who guarded the door, and signed the attendance sheet he handed to her on a brightly coloured clipboard.

  She’d returned to her car, broke open the seal on fresh plastic booties and overalls she’d retrieved from the back of the vehicle, and pushed a tendril of hair out of the way before she pulled the hood over her head.

  ‘Left down the corridor,’ the police officer said. He pointed. ‘Through the door at the end.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She tugged on gloves, and then stepped onto the plastic sheeting that covered the tiled floor. Her footsteps rustled on the temporary walkway that had been set out to preserve the scene, and echoed with a dull thud off the walls of the corridor.

  Despite the murmur of voices that emanated through the open double doors at the end of the passageway, an involuntary shiver crossed her shoulders.

  Outside, the building had resembled many of the other abandoned glass-and-concrete structures on the tired industrial estate. Once the pinnacle of modern-looking business complexes, the scuffed and worn outer shell now appeared dated and forlorn.

  Inside, the history of the business clung to the walls.

  Kay averted her gaze from the various ageing safety notices, and tried not to think about the experiments that might have been carried out within the walls.

  She reached the double doors at the end of the passageway, both of which had now been wedged open to allow better access for the crime scene investigation team.

  She paused at the threshold, her eyes roaming the scene before her.

  Pale-coloured tiles laced with dirt lined the walls from floor to ceiling, the overall effect one of confinement. No other doors led from the room. There was one way in, and one way out.

  Pipework had been removed from the space above the sinks lining the wall, taped-over joints protruding from recesses.

  A coppery scent wafted on the air, along with the unmistakable stench of urine and faeces, and she wrinkled her nose at the smell.

  Two floodlights had been set up on tripods, the feet on more plastic sheeting.

  Lucas Anderson, the forensic pathologist, was crouched next to a large open drain in the middle of the room with two of his colleagues, pointing out different details and providing instructions to them. A Crime Scene Investigator circled the room, the flash from her camera further illuminating the space with bursts of light.

  She moved, stood to one side of the drain, away from the light that provided Lucas and his team with a clear view of their working area, her gloved hands cradling the camera. She glanced up at Kay’s arrival and beckoned to her.

  ‘Come on in,’ she said.

  Lucas turned. ‘Morning, DS Hunter.’

  ‘Hello, Lucas.’ She nodded to the CSI. ‘Thanks, Harriet.’

  Kay kept a wide berth as she walked around the perimeter of the room to join Lucas. Only once she was standing next to him did she peer down the hole.

  She knew better than to ask questions at this point. Lucas and Harriet would tell her what they knew, when they knew, and they would never hazard a guess.

  The rungs of a ladder were the first thing she noticed, then on the fourth rung she saw a rope knotted around the length of it, the end taut, disappearing into the darkness.

  Severed ends of a thinner rope were entangled around either side of the upper rung, a splash of blood covering one of them.

  The pathologist finished talking with his two assistants and straightened. ‘We’re going to be here for some time,’ he said. ‘She’s been strangled using the noose tied to the ladder. At some point, her hands were tied above her head to the sides of the third rung of the ladder. She was able to place her feet on the rungs below until recently.’

  Kay frowned. ‘Until recently?’

  The pathologist nodded, and pointed at the items arranged next to the hole. ‘It appears that whoever did this to her made a conscious effort to enhance her terror,’ he said, his grey eyes fierce. ‘That bottle of motor oil is connected to the plastic tube, which has then been fed down the hole so that it drips onto the ladder rungs.’

  ‘She lost her footing?’ Kay stepped forward.

  ‘Eventually,’ said Harriet. ‘He tied the noose around her neck, secured her hands to her chest, and let the oil do the rest.’

  Kay leaned closer. ‘Is that – is that a camera down there?’

  ‘Yes.’ Harriet crouched and gestured to her to join her. ‘It’s one of those small models mountain bikers and the like use. Lightweight.’

  ‘So he was filming her?’

  Harriet nodded. ‘The record light isn’t on, so it’s probably operated remotely. I’ll get the tech team onto it as soon as possible.’

  ‘How would he view it – computer? He obviously wasn’t planning on coming back here to collect it.’

  ‘Or via a mobile phone app, yes.’

  Kay exhaled, and stood with her hands behind her back as she peered down the hole, keeping her weight on her back foot.

  The girl’s pale neck hung at an impossible angle, her face hidden by a tangle of auburn-coloured hair.

  Kay swallowed, and resisted the urge to run a gloved finger around her collar. ‘How long did it take?’

  ‘We’ll let you know, but perhaps ask the parents what time they were given the location, and how long it took them to get here – that will help.’

  ‘Will do.’

  They turned at the sound of running feet, and Lucas’s brow creased.

  ‘Whoever that is better be staying on that bloody path,’ he said.

  Barnes appeared at the doorway, his overalls twisted where he’d dressed hurriedly. He held up his mobile phone in his gloved hand.

  ‘Just had a call from the hospital, Sarge. Tony Richards didn’t make it. Died on arrival.’

  FOUR

  Kay strode across the car park towards the back door into the police station.

  Barnes swiped his security card against a panel fixed to the wall, then held the door ajar for her before leading the way through the building and up a short flight of stairs along a carpet-tiled corridor to an open plan office.

  Already, a sense
of urgency had gripped the area nearest her desk where the rest of the team were organising themselves, the atmosphere tense.

  She saw DI Devon Sharp walking towards her.

  Older than her by five years, he was ex-military, and walked with the upright posture of a man trained on a parade ground.

  He’d brought with him a solid no-nonsense approach to his work that Kay had immediately acknowledged upon joining the ranks of the town police station.

  ‘Which room are we in?’

  ‘Invicta,’ he said, ‘but before we start, a word in my office, if you don’t mind.’

  Kay gestured to Barnes to proceed without her, and then followed Sharp to a small box-like office set against the far wall of the main room.

  As she passed the groups of desks that comprised the detectives’ space, her eyes ran over the stacks of paperwork that lay across the surfaces, all live cases in the process of being worked through and solved. Near Sharp’s office, two older DCs bickered over a recent football score, their voices growing louder as the good-natured arguing progressed.

  She shut the door behind her as she entered the office, cutting off the voices mid-commentary, and took the seat opposite Sharp’s desk.

  He waited until she’d settled, and then leaned forward, his hands clasped.

  ‘Good work at the scene. I presume Lucas and Harriet are still there?’

  She nodded. ‘And they’ll be there for a while yet.’ She went on to explain what had happened, and how she had handed over the scene to the crime scene investigator when she’d turned up.

  Sharp grunted. ‘Harriet’s a good CSI,’ he agreed. ‘What happened with the father – Tony?’ k`1`2

  ‘He collapsed during questioning. We performed CPR at the scene, and he responded to that, then the ambulance arrived. Yvonne, his wife, went with him. We were where Melanie’s body was found, with Lucas and Harriet, when DC Barnes received a call from the uniforms who accompanied Yvonne saying that Tony died on arrival.’

  ‘Christ, what a mess.’ Sharp ran a hand over his close-cropped, brown hair. ‘What about Yvonne Richards?’

  ‘We’ve heard nothing from the hospital yet. Again, uniform reported that the doctors insisted on keeping her in for observation. The Family Liaison Officer arrived there half an hour ago. Barnes gave his details as first point of contact for any news.’