With Deadly Intent

by KA Richardson

  Cass cracked and a huge sob caught in her throat. She hadn’t told him everything, she couldn’t. The other stuff was too much. The psychiatrist had told her that the memories were too painful for her to deal with. But faced with it all here, head on, she was on the verge of remembering. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind and steadied herself.

  Looking at Alex, she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

  ‘It’s OK, you don’t need to say any more, Cass. What do you want me to do? I’ll phone the prison, speak with probation, whatever you need.’

  ‘He doesn’t know where I am. I’ll be fine, Alex, honest. It was just such a shock. I still can’t believe I forgot to post the letter. I’d prepared it on the day of the Mackintosh murder. It just slipped my mind to put in it in the post.’

  ‘Everything’s gonna be OK, Cass. I’ll speak with the local DCI and see what’s what. Which prison is he at?’

  ‘Frankland. He’s due for release on the nineteenth.’

  ‘OK. I’ll take care of it. What’re you doing now?’

  ‘I need to speak with Greg, but I just want to go home. Mum leaves tomorrow. I need to tell her about this too.’

  ‘I’ll go tell Greg you’re heading home. Just go, Cass. Helluva day. I’ll come up and see you later.’

  Cass nodded slowly. She looked into his eyes and then did something completely out of character. She leant in and kissed him briefly on the lips.

  Flushing slightly, she added, ‘Thank you.’ Then gathered her things, and walked out, leaving Alex staring after her in shock.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ryhope Police Station – 7 October

  ‘What do mean you’re putting me through to someone else? You just told me you were putting me through to the sergeant who dealt with the case. Please, don’t put me on … dammit,’ cursed Alex as the inane, tacky hold music blared in his ear.

  He was only on hold a moment when a gruff voice answered.

  ‘DCI Clinton Proffitt speaking. DCI McKay?’

  ‘Yeah, just Alex will do fine.’

  ‘Clint to my friends. I understand you’re making enquiries about the Hunt case?’

  ‘Correct. I need to speak to the sergeant who dealt with the case.’

  ‘I ran point on that case. Hell of a thing. Not one I’ll forget in my lifetime. Jameson beat her so badly you could barely recognise her.’

  ‘He’s due for release next week. Cass, I mean Miss Hunt, failed to send her rejection to appeal letter in due to unforeseen circumstances. What else can you tell me?’

  ‘The neighbour phoned it in. Domestic violence was a regular occurrence at the address, but the neighbour said this sounded different, said it sounded like he was killing her. Our boys were there within five minutes of the call, but Mrs Bradley, that was the neighbour, had delayed calling as she didn’t want to be seen as a busybody. I saw the scene myself after the medics had removed Miss Hunt. It was like a wild animal had been let loose in the bedroom. Sheets were all torn up, there was blood spatter everywhere, and the mirrors were all smashed. It was a damn shame what happened. And what he did to the baby, well that was just incomprehensible.’

  Alex felt bile rise up into his throat.

  ‘Baby? Cass had a baby?’

  ‘No, son, you misunderstand me. Miss Hunt was pregnant. Twenty weeks along. Jameson stabbed her at four points to her stomach, not with the intention of killing her, the consultant said, but to kill the child. We couldn’t get him on murder of the baby because the law states that murder of a foetus is not murder. The CPS took it under advisory when sentencing for Section 20, and the judge advised he shouldn’t be allowed an early release as long as Miss Hunt maintained that he was a danger. When did you say he was being released? I’ll need to make sure the beat bobbies are made aware. He’s a monster.’

  ‘Next week. The nineteenth,’ said Alex, his tone distracted. He was still trying to process that Cass had been pregnant at the time of the attack. It was bad enough she’d stayed and put up with him hitting her for years. But to stay when there was a child involved? Alex was struggling to understand how any woman could stay when she was pregnant. He shook his head in disbelief.

  ‘Is there anything else I can help with, Alex?’ asked Clint after a momentary pause.

  ‘No. Thanks for the update, Clint, much appreciated.’

  Alex hung up the phone, surprised at the leaden feeling he had in his gut.

  How could she stay when she was pregnant?

  His phone alarm went off suddenly, making him jump. Pushing the thoughts of Cass to one side, to be pondered over later, he made his way to the Super’s office for the management meeting.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sunderland Train Station – 7 October

  ‘Mum, I’ll be fine honestly. You need to get back to Roger. He’ll be missing you like crazy,’ said Cass, hugging her mum while trying to push her towards the train standing at the platform.

  ‘Cass, promise me you will invest in an alarm system. I don’t want that man to come anywhere near you. After what he did last time, I’m so afraid for you. If I stay and he turns up, I’ll wring his bloody neck before he gets his maulers on my daughter again.’

  Rose was staring at Cass, unshed tears in her eyes. She had seen her only child in the hospital bed, damaged at the hands of such violence. She had been there when Cass woke up, and held her as the great wracking sobs had forced their way out of her daughter to the point that the doctor had had to sedate her. And she’d sat with her every day until her release. Roger had paid the deposit on the cottage, under protest, and Rose had helped Cass move in, helped her get settled. The thought of that man hurting her daughter again had her beside herself with worry.

  Cass smiled at her mum a little, ‘I know you would, Mum. But he’s not going to come anywhere near me. He doesn’t know where I am. I ‘ll get an alarm system fitted I promise. And I ‘ll call you every day, OK?’

  Rose sniffed as she nodded. She dropped her bag on the floor and grabbed Cass in a hug so tight she could barely breathe.

  ‘I love you, my daughter,’ whispered Rose into her hair.

  Pushing back the lump that appeared in her throat, Cass whispered back, ‘I loves you too, Mama. Lots and lots…’

  ‘Like Jelly Tots,’ they both said together.

  Cass smiled and waved at her mum as the train pulled out of the station, but all she wanted to do was call her back and have her never leave. She hated saying goodbye to her mum; it just made it more real that she’d be returning to an empty cottage. And at the minute, that was the last thing she wanted. She felt a shiver of fear as she left the platform.

  Maybe Alex would like some company tonight.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ryhope Police Station – 9 October

  Cass pulled her phone from her bag for the umpteenth time that day. Shaking it a little and frowning, she wondered if she’d broken it. She’d sent a few texts to Alex and had no response. He hadn’t been in work, so she hadn’t been able to talk to him, about Jameson or anything else. She wondered what she’d done wrong, whether he was ignoring her. He hadn’t been in contact with her since she’d told him about Jameson.

  Finally shaking her head in bewilderment, she put the phone back. She’d just have to catch him next time he was in work.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Police Gym, Sunderland City Police Station – 10 October

  Alex felt the burn in his thighs and calves as he pounded the running machine, his headset firmly embedded in his ears. He had barely been out of the gym the last two days; exercise was the one thing he could always control, and it helped him think clearly.

  A frown marred his face as he thought back to the earlier conversation with Ali.

  ‘You’re judging her on an incident you know nothing about, bro. She might have had a perfectly good reason to stay with the scumbag. Maybe she didn’t have anyone else to turn to. Maybe she thought she could co
ntrol the situation by staying. Maybe there were other factors influencing her decision. That’s something you need to ask her. But stop being so hard on her. After all she’s been through, I would’ve thought you would be the one person who would want all the facts before jumping to conclusions. You’re always the level-headed one. What about Cass makes you so damn pig-headed?’

  It had been a long-winded speech, one that had culminated in Ali slamming the phone down on Alex in frustration, something his brother never did.

  And now as he pounded the treadmill, Ali’s words echoed round his mind.

  Who was he to judge her? He had told her all about Helen and not once had she said he was a jerk for working constantly and pushing his wife away, not once had she said he put the job ahead of her. She had listened to him. That was it. Just listened.

  He pressed the buttons hard on the machine, pulled the headset from his ears and made his way back to the changing room.

  I’m a complete jerk.

  He pulled his phone from his puma gym bag. Noting the missed calls from Cass, and the texts, he sighed again. Texting wasn’t something he was fond of, but he couldn’t face speaking to her yet.

  Hey, Cass. Sorry my phone’s been off and I’ve been manic. Can we talk tomorrow? Alex.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Hidden Cave, Sunderland Coast

  His three-week wait had passed quickly, and he knew he was ready.

  He watched as the old man shifted his position on the park bench, the old, scraggy mutt curled up next to him, and listened as the man swore loudly at a couple of teenagers passing by. A smile curled his lips as he watched him throw an empty lager can at them – the old man had spirit.

  It would be interesting to see how long it lasted.

  He had it all planned out now. He’d taken the time to ‘befriend’ the man, plying him with whisky instead of his usual choice of White Lightning. He’d actually taken his mangy dog a sausage one day and it had sealed the friendship.

  For him though, it had taken a lot of resolve to drink from the same bottle as the old man. He hated the thought of germs transferring from the yellow teeth and dank mouth of the old man onto the bottle end, and then to himself. But he had endured, taking great care to increase his own cleanliness when he returned home. It was the only way to gain the trust of the old man, to the extent he had found out his name – Albert Grieves. Not that he didn’t already know his name, but it was good to have verification before one attacked.

  Albert had been easy to manipulate, providing him with all the information he needed and much more that he didn’t, but it had paid off in the end. The old man had eventually shown him where he slept most nights; the secret place he never told anyone about. The place with a couple of blankets and a holey, smelly dog bed for the mutt – the place that Albert called home.

  He’d followed him one night, just to be sure Albert hadn’t been lying to him. The old man was right about one thing, it was perfect.

  The perfect place to put an end to a pitiful life.

  He left the park, knowing it wouldn’t be long until Albert would progress to the shelter for his supper. He would never let a condemned man not have his last supper after all. And after that, Albert would go to his secret place, and he would be waiting.

  He was there within minutes, and took great care moving the toolbox from its place behind a rock. He had visited the place earlier that day, taking what he needed as props for his show.

  The moon was hidden behind a bank of dark clouds, and what little glow it gave barely illuminated the dark entrance to the cave. He felt his feet sink into the soft sand and knew he had his work cut out for himself afterwards, making it seem like he’d never been there. Forensics, after all, were of the utmost importance. He smirked in the darkness as he remembered the little ants running frantically around the crash site. He had already found the perfect point from which to watch them enjoy this masterpiece.

  That would all come later, however. For now, it was time to get ready.

  He removed the hammer from its home in the toolbox and blended back into the dark shadows of the cave, his finger on the switch to the portable light he had also prepared earlier.

  Hidden Cave, Sunderland Coast

  Albert’s steps were unsteady as he made his way back along the seafront. The meal at the Salvation Army hostel had filled him, and now all he wanted to do was sleep. Sometimes, he kept some cider back for the day after, especially when his dole money was running out, but not today. Today was the anniversary of his son’s death, so he had downed the whole bottle and some of the next one. His mind was now almost devoid of emotion, his thoughts hazy as he made his way to the place he called home.

  It had been nice though, John sitting next to him and listening to his stories about Tommy. John had left hours before, leaving Albert to wallow for the rest of the day while drinking himself into oblivion.

  His feet slipped slightly as he made his way down the small rabbit path that led to the beach. His cave was set back from the sand, hidden by a number of bushes. Hardly anyone knew it was there. Being hard to get to, the beach wasn’t the most popular with tourists, which suited Albert down to the ground. The spot was his home.

  Reaching the bottom, Albert headed for his favourite bush, undid his flies, and took a leak. He heard the dog kicking his back legs at the sand, and knew he was finished his business too.

  ‘Come on, Scruffpot, let’s go to bed.’

  As Albert entered the cave, Scruff stood to attention beside him, growling into the darkness.

  A light suddenly hit his eyes, and instinctively he blinked, taking a step back.

  A burst of anger filled him as the man stepped into the light.

  ‘Get out of my cave!’ shouted Albert, stepping forward.

  The man took a couple of steps towards him, and slowly recognition arrived.

  ‘John,’ gasped Albert, not seeing the hammer until it was too late. It connected with the side of his head with a dull thud, and pain exploded behind Albert’s eyes as he staggered.

  ‘Please, John. Stop.’ He begged as John swung the hammer again.

  Hidden Cave, Sunderland Coast

  Time passed quickly, his anticipation building, and in what seemed like only moments, he heard the gruff voice of the old man as he made his way down to the cave entrance. As Albert entered, he flicked the switch, the compact generator kicking in with a low hum, and flooding the rear of the cave in false light.

  He smiled as the dog jumped and let out a yelp of shock and took a step forward as Albert’s mouth opened with a wide ‘o.’ He kept smiling as the flash of rage crossed the old man’s face, and Albert yelled, ‘Get out of my cave!’

  He moved his head from side to side silently, and as Albert took a step forward, he swung the hammer round hard, feeling it connect with the side of the old man’s temple. To anyone else the crunch would have been sickening, but he felt the rush flood through him. Impressed by the old man’s resolve, he swung again and connected with the same thud, feeling the faint splash of blood spatter on his cheek. Swinging hard once more, he watched with satisfaction as Albert finally dropped to his knees and fell face down into the sand with a groan.

  Albert lay there now, shivering with fear.

  He stepped away for a moment, heading towards the old dog which though loyal, was petrified and cowering beside a rock. He vaguely heard Albert scream as the hammer sped down to meet the dog’s head, right between the eyes. His death was almost instantaneous. But still he made the old man suffer by raining yet more blows on the furry body.

  Albert just lay there, sobbing, begging him to stop.

  He turned back towards the old man who was now curled up into the foetal position. ‘Please. Please don’t kill me. I never did nothin’ to you, John. Please.’

  He listened as Albert begged, his body heaving with wracking sobs as his tears fell into the dry sand.

  Ignoring him, he pulled one wrinkled hand from under the old man and held it in p
lace by pressing a knee into Albert’s shoulder. A little belatedly, he stuffed a rag into the old man’s mouth, muffling the fear induced hiccups, and swiftly brought the hammer down onto Albert’s fingers, smiling into the dull light as they shattered with a resounding crack.

  Albert screamed his pain into the dirty rag, his eyes bulging as the tears ran rivers of pain through the wrinkles on his cheeks.

  Now the old man understood the severity of his situation.

  It took almost an hour for Albert to die, though the light extinguished from his eyes long before his heart finally gave out. He’d found it much harder work than killing the dog, and he was tired. But he carefully placed the metal fragment into the jacket pocket worn by the old man, listening as it jingled slightly with the collection of bottle tops Albert kept.

  He smiled again at the confusion he knew the police would endure at the tiny piece of metal, wondering what it was and what it represented. The fact he put it there just to confuse them pleased him.

  The old man’s battered body lay twisted and broken in the sand, his blood decorating the cave walls like the art of some ancient tribe. Albert’s still eyes watched lifelessly as he took the lamp and generator to the car and returned to remove the evidence that he had been to the cave. By the light of his head torch, he took great care in cleaning all evidence of himself from the cave. He used a second rag to clean the blood and tiny bone fragments off the hammer before replacing it into his toolbox. His final actions were to brush a large section of seaweed over his shoeprints, eradicating all tread detail, and dragged it behind him as he made his way up the steep path to his car.