She Lies in Wait

by Gytha Lodge

  He doubted, given the levels of traffic at this time, that he and O’Malley would be able to catch up with Stavely and Hanson. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

  He’d switched on the blue lights and siren, and most of the cars ahead cleared well out of the way. But he still had to stop sharply at a pedestrian crossing for a middle-aged couple who had walked out without looking. He watched in disbelief as they continued to walk slowly across, despite all the noise.

  “Do you ever hate people, Sergeant?” he asked O’Malley.

  “Oh Jesus, yes. All the time,” the sergeant replied.

  * * *

  —

  THE ROUTE WAS beginning to feel familiar to Hanson, but she couldn’t tell why. She guessed it must be on the way to one of the suspects’ houses, but she couldn’t be sure which after only one visit. She called through to Sheens to tell him roughly where they were, and then waited for him to call back.

  It didn’t take him long.

  “I’ve just had a call from the operator. The squad car’s on the flyover, and for now has its lights and siren on,” he said. Hanson felt a surge of relief. “They reckon they’ll be up with you in ten minutes, assuming they have to turn the lights off once they’re closer.”

  Hanson’s relief wavered slightly. They could easily be at Stavely’s destination before then. They were well out of Southampton, off the dual carriageway and heading toward Lyndhurst.

  She scrolled on her phone briefly, working out which suspects were where. He could be going to Jojo Magos’s house, the Jacksons’, or Brett Parker’s. There was a vague chance that he was going a long route toward Bishop’s Waltham and Daniel Benham’s house, in which case they might have long enough.

  “If he’s going to Brett’s or Jojo’s, the squad car will be too late,” she said. “We’re only a few minutes away, I think? And the Jacksons’…probably still under ten minutes, if not by much.”

  “If he stops before the squad car gets there, then block the taxi from leaving,” Sheens told her. “And then tell Stavely calmly that the squad car is two minutes behind you. Give us a heads-up, and they can turn the sirens back on.”

  “Right,” Hanson said. “I’ll let you know.”

  She hung up, and mentally began to prepare herself for a confrontation. She’d at least been on the periphery of incidents like this in the past. It was all about calm, and an impression of authority. She knew that.

  And not getting close enough to get stabbed. That, too.

  * * *

  —

  “DID YOUR PHONE records run up to today?” Jonah asked O’Malley as he pushed his way toward the flyover.

  “Yesterday, I think,” O’Malley answered. “Why?”

  “Once we’ve stopped Stavely doing whatever he’s doing, I want to know for certain who called Coralie during our interview, because I’m pretty damn sure it wasn’t her father.”

  “It sounds like you know already,” O’Malley said with a sideways glance at him that Jonah caught.

  “I have a pretty good idea,” Jonah said.

  * * *

  —

  IT WAS BRETT Parker’s house. They were on the road that led past the end of his driveway, and there were no other vehicles in sight. Hanson had to drop back a little, and wondered what she would do about the gate. For that matter, she wondered what Stavely was going to do about it. They were hardly going to let him in if he announced that he was there to stab Brett. Would Brett or Anna even recognize his name?

  She didn’t have a lot of time to wonder why he was there, but part of her felt certain it had to do with threat. Brett represented, somehow, more of a threat to the killer than he was able to tolerate. Enough of a threat that he was prepared to risk sending Stavely there.

  As she turned a bend in the road, she saw a vehicle coming toward her, and pulled over to let them past, instinctively. And then she realized that it was the taxi, and was cursing herself as it drew level with her, remembering that she had been told to block it in.

  But with a flood of relief, she saw that the backseat was empty. Stavely had got out.

  By the time she’d come to a stop, she was right outside the grounds of Brett’s house. The high gray-stone walls were next to her and the gates just ahead.

  She pulled the car up just outside the gates, and shut the engine off. She wasn’t sure what to do. There was no sign of Stavely this side of the gates, and the taxi hadn’t had time to drive up to the door and back.

  Had he climbed over the wall? she wondered. Or been allowed in on foot?

  She climbed out of the car, checking that she had her baton ready in its slot on her vest, and moved slowly toward the gates. A quick glance through showed her a long stretch of driveway, and no sign of a figure anywhere on it.

  Moving quickly to the side of the wall with the buzzer on it, and putting her back to it, Hanson pressed the button.

  There was a slight pause, and then Anna answered.

  “Can I help?”

  “It’s the police. It’s Constable Hanson,” she said quickly. “There’s an armed man approaching your house. I need you to buzz me through the gates and leave them open, and then get somewhere safe with your husband. Lock yourselves in somewhere.”

  There was a tiny pause, and then Anna said, “Brett’s not here. Are you sure…? I haven’t let anyone in!”

  “I followed him here,” Hanson said. “He must be near the house by now. Can you buzz me in? There’s a squad car on the way, too.”

  “Oh God,” she heard Anna say. “I don’t…I can only lock myself in the bathroom.”

  “Do it,” she said. “And keep quiet.”

  There was a buzz as the gate swung open. Hanson slid through and started to run down the long driveway, pulling out her phone as she went.

  * * *

  —

  JONAH’S PHONE RANG just after they’d joined the flyover. He was ready to ram half the cars around him. Despite the sirens, he’d still had cars trying to slide in front of him to avoid losing their place in the queue.

  Hanson’s name flashed up on the dashboard display, and he picked up the call quickly.

  “It’s Brett Parker’s,” she said, sounding like she was running. “Stavely’s headed down on foot. The gate’s open for the squad car. I’m…a little way behind him.”

  Jonah glanced at the clock. “They should be six minutes away. I’d keep my distance,” he said warningly.

  “Anna’s in there alone,” Hanson replied. “I’ve told her to lock herself in the bathroom.”

  “That should hold him off for long enough,” Jonah said. “Stay outside.”

  “The door’s open,” Hanson said. “Shit.”

  “Stay outside, Juliette,” Jonah said, but she’d rung off.

  * * *

  —

  HANSON DUCKED HER head inside the door, half expecting to feel a knife across her throat. But nothing happened. The hall was entirely empty.

  Out of the silence there was suddenly a loud bang that made her flinch. And then another, and another. She knew, without any question, that it was the sound of someone trying to break a door down. It was coming from the floor above.

  Anna had locked herself in a bathroom up there. He must have worked out where she was.

  “Police!” she shouted, pulling her baton out. There was a pause, and then the banging continued.

  She started to walk toward the stairs, her baton held in front of her in a hand that was undeniably shaking. The sweeping stairs were softly carpeted, and she made no sound as she hurried up them.

  “Matt! There is a squad car behind me and we know you’re armed!” she shouted again. “Drop the knife and come out into the hallway.”

  There was a final cracking, splintering sound that must have been a door being kicked in, and then there was
a sudden, complete silence.

  She stepped up onto the landing, seeing several closed doors ahead. And then, right at the end on the right, one that was open.

  She didn’t feel connected to her feet as she walked down the hallway. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth every two steps, trying to calm herself.

  She slowed down as she approached the door. It had been kicked in. Splintered wood from the lock littered the carpet and there was a big dent in the panel near the bottom.

  She moved round until she could see through the gap. There was a section of off-white wall visible, and as she approached, her view gradually increased. She saw a small painting, a chair.

  It wasn’t a bathroom, she realized. But it had been a room with a lock. Anna could have chosen to shut herself in there. But why hadn’t there been any cries for help?

  Into the silence came the distant wail of a siren. The cavalry on its audible way.

  But he was already inside the room. Anna might need her help.

  She pushed the door very slowly open, her heart thundering madly in her chest. She could see a desk now, with a slimline computer on top of it.

  There was sudden movement ahead of her, and she froze.

  It took her a panicked second to realize it was a curtain she was seeing. It had moved because the double doors beyond it were open on to the evening air.

  She had a sudden fear that Stavely had harmed Anna and then fled. She kept moving until she could see all of the room. But there was nobody there. No Anna, no blood, and no hiding place.

  “Anna?” she asked in a low voice.

  There was no reply. The sirens were louder now. The car must be coming down the drive.

  So Anna wasn’t here. She must have locked herself up somewhere else.

  Hanson looked around the room blankly. What had Stavely been doing? Why had he come here, and then run?

  She approached the French doors as silently as she could, and peered out. There was a small balcony that served just this room. Below it was the big trellised canopy that ran over the terrace. There was no sign of Stavely, but it wouldn’t have been hard for him to climb down the wooden struts.

  She pulled out her phone again and called Sheens, who sounded angry. She ignored him as he asked what the hell she was doing, and said, “Stavely’s climbed out a window and scarpered. For some reason, he kicked a door in and then left.”

  “Was it the door to Brett Parker’s study?”

  “What? Yes, I guess so,” Hanson said, looking again at the desk.

  “He didn’t touch anything?”

  “No,” Hanson answered, and then glanced at the computer. The screen was on and glowing. It was waiting for a password. “Well, I think he might have turned the computer on.”

  “You’d better inform the uniforms that this is a crime scene,” Jonah said, “and then get them to seize the computer and any other technology they find.”

  “What was Stavely doing?” Hanson asked, and then, as a few things fell into place, she said, “Was that what he wanted? To make it a crime scene? Was he leading us to Brett Parker?”

  “I’d guess so,” Jonah said. “Before he died, Aleksy Nowak went into Brett’s study and found something that caused a flaming row. Anna thought it was about finances, but I think he found a phone, and that it was full of messages from girls. Young girls. I think Brett has been a sexual predator for a very long time, and that he killed Aleksy to hide it. We’ll have to see whether I’m right when we look at that computer, and if we find any phones.”

  “Fucking hell,” Hanson said, then said, “Sorry, sir. So…what do I tell Anna?”

  “Just that some things have been disturbed by the intruder,” the DCI said. “And that we’ll need her at the station for a statement.”

  “OK,” Hanson said, and hoped her deadpan would be good enough to hide from Anna Parker that her husband might just be a serial rapist and a killer.

  39

  Aurora

  Saturday, July 23, 1983, 3:05 A.M.

  “Sorry,” he said, emerging out of the darkness. He was unsteady; bleary. Drunk, she thought. And probably only just awake. “Didn’t realize you were here.”

  Brett stopped a little way behind her, barely lit and swaying slightly. She had to crane her neck to look at him. Her heart was still pounding from the fright.

  “What are you doing up?” he asked. “Thought you went to bed.”

  “I was thirsty,” she said.

  He nodded. He turned to look around him a little vaguely. “I’ll find you a beer.”

  She wanted to argue; to tell him that wasn’t what she’d meant. But she didn’t want to disappoint him again. She wanted him to look at her like he’d looked at Topaz.

  Her stomach gave another squeeze as she remembered how he’d been all over her sister. She didn’t want to think about what else they’d done. It made her feel colder. Sicker.

  Brett spent a while scrabbling around in the food bags, and then brought her a beer. He opened it for her with a hiss before handing it over. And then he half sat, half fell down beside her. He knocked into her, and she shifted, but he moved over. Put an arm round her back.

  She felt herself becoming rigid. She remembered how recently he’d had his hands up her sister’s skirt.

  “Sorry,” Brett said, leaning back to squint at her. “I thought you wanted a cuddle.”

  “I’m OK, thanks,” she said.

  She took a sip of the beer. She felt her mouth screwing up around it. “I need some orange juice,” she said, and she stood up, glad not to be touching him.

  “Oh. Yeah. Not beer. I forgot.” He stood up, too, unsteadily. “Stay by the fire. I’ll get it.”

  She thought about telling him she could do it. But she was still racked with cold, and the fire was the one warm point. She sat again and hunched in front of it, as close as she could get without her skirt catching the embers. She blew on it once more to bring the heat back. She’d coaxed a few of the sticks into flame by the time Brett reappeared next to her.

  “Here.” He waved a carton of orange juice at her, and she took it gratefully. She put the opening to her mouth and drank.

  The beer must have left a strange taste in her mouth, because the orange juice seemed bitter.

  She was too thirsty to stop drinking it, though. She chugged and chugged at it, swallowing quickly until it was drained dry.

  She was breathless by the time she had finished. Breathless and sticky with juice. But no longer thirsty. Her mouth wasn’t dry now. It was…tingly somehow. A little numb.

  Brett crouched next to her, and gave her a strange smile that she didn’t think she liked. “How do you feel now?”

  He put a hand out toward her, and she moved her head back instinctively.

  “Don’t be silly,” he said quietly. His hand reached further until he had her neck and the bottom of her jaw in a gentle grip.

  “Please don’t,” she said. Something felt wrong. Him. The campsite. Something in her. “Please don’t.”

  “You need to learn when to stop fighting,” he said, and with his other hand pushed her skirt up toward the top of her thighs.

  “Brett,” she said, pushing it back down.

  In a lunge, he jammed his mouth over hers and shoved her backward onto the ground. Her elbow ended up in the embers, and she pulled it away sharply. She could feel sticks digging into her back. He was pressing down hard on her, and her first kiss, which she had imagined over and over, was not gentle and tender. It was a forceful, inescapable, painful thing.

  She tried pushing at him, but he was stronger than she was. And the more she pushed, the weaker she felt. The dizzier.

  He pulled his mouth away, and knelt up. He was tugging at the belt of his jeans.

  Aurora tried to roll over. To stand up and move away from him
. But she felt weak. Shaky. She made it to her hands and knees, the ground looking strange and out of focus to her as she tried to move over it.

  And then she felt a sharp pull on her ankle, and she was sliding backward, her face in the fallen sticks and leaves and being scratched and cut by them.

  “Come on, Aurora,” he said, and leaned over to breathe in her ear. “All you need is a good fucking.”

  40

  After Jonah hung up, O’Malley was immediately full of questions.

  “Why do you think it was young girls?” he asked.

  “Partly because Brett resisted Topaz but kissed a younger girl the week before, and partly because of the connection with Matt Stavely,” Jonah answered. “I think Matt Stavely really was supplying Rohypnol, but to Brett Parker instead of Mackenzie. I think Stavely found himself dragged into a lot of things he didn’t really want to be involved in.”

  “So, what…he led us there to get free of Brett Parker’s shit?”

  “I’d guess so,” he said.

  “What about Aleksy Nowak?” the sergeant asked. “Why didn’t he report Brett to the police when he found whatever he found?”

  “I don’t think he knew what he’d found at first,” Jonah replied. “I’d lay money that it was a phone full of text messages to and from some of these girls. If you saw that stuff, you wouldn’t know their ages; you’d just think he was a cheat, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yeah, true,” O’Malley said thoughtfully. “But if he went ballistic at me, I’d probably start to wonder….”

  “Yup,” he said. “I think he’d been worrying away at it for two weeks, and wanted Jojo to support him in going to the police. Hence the message he sent asking to talk to her. Brett must have realized how bad he’d made himself look, so he used one of his other phones to message Aleksy.”