He took out the things that he had brought, he laid them on the table. She might still be asleep, he had put plenty of the drug into the water. If she had drunk it all she would still be asleep, she may even be dead already. That would be best, if she was dead already he wouldn’t have to do anything else.
He took down the picture of his mother, granny had taken it for him. She was so pretty. Not the other woman, the drunkard, the screaming harridan who had struck him and pushed him, called him names, and burned him with her cigarettes. This was his real mother, an angel. Like the other women, ordinary until death had made them special. He always knew which ones they were, he just had to look at them. They were slender, tall; their hair, long and pale – pale like their skin, like the picture. Angels walking on earth, but angry because they shouldn’t really be here.
He left the kitchen and went to look at the gown. He lifted it and let the fine fabric float back in the little draught from the open door. It was beautiful. He needed another woman the same size as the one upstairs. She would have been just right, maybe a little short, but that didn’t matter. He would need to find another one the same; they had to fit – that was very important. She was so thin though, like a reed. He had to find someone just the same. He could get another dress, it was easy. They didn’t notice in the shops but this one was lovely. He’d found it in the jumble, that was a shame. He’d even washed it, very carefully; it had been muddy, and now it would be a waste if he couldn’t use it.
First, he must take care of the reject. He should have known that she wasn’t right. She had fought him. The others just came, they weren’t afraid, they had gone to sleep beautifully in his van and then they had eaten the soup when he promised they could go home afterwards. They had gone home; he had sent them home. This one had been wrong from the start. She was a mistake, so it didn’t matter where he put her. He might just leave her here for a while. He could use the downstairs bedroom again for the next one. Nobody ever came, and it was difficult climbing up the ladder anyway. Yes, he’d leave her here. He’d brought some bin bags. If he sealed them up he knew it wouldn’t smell. When they killed all the chickens because of the bird flu, they’d done that and then got rid of them later, when there was nobody looking. He’d put what was left out in the woods, in the place Granny had showed him, far away from the paths. The wild animals would take care of it, and that would be that.
Chapter 46
Tanya watched him go in and moved towards the corner of the cottage. She took another few steps towards the window, bending low, just enough to see over the edge. He wasn’t in the room at the front, but she could hear him. She crept to the opened door. There was another room at the end of the hallway. He had opened the back door to let in light. She could see there were papers on the wall, the breeze from the door made them waft and crackle.
He was out of sight. She walked around the corner, slid into the house. Tight against the wall she moved along the hallway and into the room on the left of the door. She could see a glimpse of him now and then moving in the kitchen, by the old sink and the ancient gas cooker.
Nobody lived here. It was damp and cold and filthy. She looked at this room. It was bare, no carpet, no furniture. There was a door in the corner furthest from the window. With quiet steps she crossed the floor. It was a bathroom, there was a cracked and stained porcelain bath, a toilet and a wash basin, the tap dripping onto a brown stain. There was a heap of dark fabric in the corner. She glanced back, listened, he was still in the kitchen.
When she picked up the clothes she knew immediately what they were, had to stifle a gasp at the evidence in her hands. She had been a fool. She had no gloves on and here she was handling the top that Millie had worn in the picture taken at the airport at the end of her holiday. She dropped it back onto the pile.
Harper was walking back towards the other room, she watched as he lifted the hem of the awful wedding dress, let it fall, and ran his fingers down the length of the skirt.
She dodged back as he turned to the door and again plodded towards the kitchen carrying his bag.
The ladder from a trap door rattled and crashed, loud in the quiet house. He lifted the hold all and hefted it up before him, pushing it towards the ceiling and into the loft. She watched from her hiding place as his body and then his legs disappeared into the dark space in the roof.
Dust shuttered down into the hall from the ceiling plaster as he moved about. She heard him talking. There was no answer.
It must be Jane, it had to be. It didn’t matter, if it wasn’t Jane then whoever it was shouldn’t be there in the gloom of the roof. There could be no good explanation for that, not even an animal should be kept there.
She went to the ladder and climbed onto the first rung. Now she could make out some of the words. There was no answer, just his muttering – reassuring, calming.
She climbed the ladder, poked her head above the trap. There she was, the pathetically small shape curled against the edge of the roof, the great bulk of Peter Harper bending over her, the scene lit by a single bulb high up in the rafters.
She caught the shine of polythene as he shook out the bag, heard the rustle as he gathered it in his fists.
He knelt beside the unconscious girl, still speaking softly, telling her it wouldn’t take long, that she would feel no pain, telling her he was sorry, but she was too broken to be an angel.
He rested her head on his kneeling lap, raised his hands, the bag gripped between them, and pulled it over the tangle of her long blond hair. He dragged it down over her brow. It caught on her nose but briefly. It was calm, unhurried; Jane made no protest, no effort to resist.
Tanya screamed, “Police, stop!” she hoisted herself from the ladder, scrabbling with arms and legs into the roof space.
He turned to her, his face shocked, and drew away. Jane’s head slid from his knees as he scuttled backwards. The inert form didn’t move, didn’t react as her skull thudded onto the boards. Tanya glanced at her, the bag covered half her face but still her mouth was clear.
He was standing now, confined by the slant of the roof, bent almost double but coming towards her, his hands reaching in front of him. Fast and heavy and alarmed, propelled by shock and anger.
She turned aside, back towards the hatch, but he caught at her, pulled her in towards him with one strong arm, the other steadying himself against the low wall.
He fell, dragging her on top of him, on her back, her shoulders straining forward. She kicked and squirmed in his arms, twisted, and then jolted backwards with her head with all the power she could muster from her confined position. She felt his nose shatter, saw stars herself, and cried out at the stab of pain.
One arm loosened as he grabbed at his face. She rolled, freed a hand, pulling and clutching at his other arm, but already he had her again. This time when she thrust back with her skull he dodged, she hit the side of his face, a glancing blow – useless.
He rolled now, turning her with him, had her pinned under him, sitting astride her, the great bulk of him squeezing the breath from her lungs; she gasped, tried to draw in air. He moved his hands to her neck – gardener’s fingers, strong, hard, around her throat. Squeezing, tighter, tighter.
Lights flashed behind her eyes. She heard a whistle, high and piercing; deep inside her skull, darkness gathered. The roof, the man, the panic, began to recede – peace was waiting. She kicked her legs on the boards, she couldn’t feel her hands, she couldn’t see, there was nothing any more; it was all gone.
Chapter 47
Tanya was aware of rough hands, something pulling at her. Her neck hurt, her throat was on fire. Her body had taken over and dragged air into her lungs as soon as the restriction had moved. Her chest hurt, heart pounded and there was thunder in her brain.
“Tanya, come on, breathe, keep breathing. Christ, come on.”
“Charlie.” She pushed at him, shook her head, tried to move away from him.
“Sit up, come on.”
“Jane?”
“I’ve got the bag off, she’s breathing. She’s completely out of it, but she’s breathing at least.”
“Harper?” With oxygen in her lungs and her heart steadying, she felt strength returning quickly. She raised a hand to her bruised and reddened neck. “Shit, that’s sore.”
“I’m not surprised, it’s black and blue already.”
“What happened?”
“I tried ringing you, went to voicemail and I didn’t like it at all. I waited but he was gone too long.”
As he spoke she realised just what it meant. “Thanks Charlie.”
He nodded. “There’s an ambulance on the way. God knows how they’ll get here, the motorway is still a mess but anyway, I’ve called them.”
She crawled to where Jane lay, Charlie’s jacket covering her shoulders. “Where is he?”
“He ran. I couldn’t do much about it. I was more concerned right then with you – with her.” He pointed to the girl. “I’ve put out details of the van and what have you. He can’t get far, we’ll find him.” At this point he touched a finger to his face, she noticed the swelling beneath his eye, the smear of blood on his lip.
“You fought him then?”
“Dragged him off more like, just pulled him away. He clocked me one and then practically fell down the ladder. I couldn’t follow, I didn’t know whether you were okay or…” He trailed off, they left the rest of it unsaid.
“Do you think we should move her downstairs?” She was stroking the hair back from Jane’s forehead as she spoke.
“No real point I don’t think. It’s no better down there and when the paramedics get here they’ll be more skilled at it than we are, best leave her.”
Tanya peered around the loft. “There are clothes downstairs, in the room on the left, I reckon they belonged to Millie. There’s a wedding dress, hanging in the other room. Really spooky that.”
“Yes, I saw that and the pictures.”
“Pictures?”
“I didn’t get much more than a glance while I was trying to find you. They look like pictures of angels. All over the walls in the kitchen.”
“Oh, is that what they are? I saw there was something.”
“Yeah, it’s covered with them. We’ve found him. Not much doubt about that.”
“We have, but we haven’t got him, have we? He’s still out there.”
“True, but he’s not going to do it again, is he? Not now he knows we’re onto him.”
Tanya shook her head, “I don’t know Charlie. He’s off his chump isn’t he. How can we know what he might do?”
“We’ll have him by the end of the day. Got to.”
“I bloody hope so.”
They heard the sirens in the distance, Tanya breathed a sigh of relief. “You stay with her, I’ll go and meet them.” As Charlie stood, his head and shoulders hunched in the low room, Tanya held out a hand.
“Thanks Charlie.” He simply shook his head and turned away. Her eyes filled with tears. She sniffed, it was just a result of the shock, that was all. She bent and tucked his jacket tighter around Jane’s skinny shoulders.
There was no sign that the girl had been vomiting, all there was in the loft were empty water bottles, a bucket in the corner with a tiny amount of what must be urine in the bottom. Had they saved her? She was here, she was breathing, but was she doomed? They would have to wait to find out but for now it was enough that they had found her.
It was a difficult job to bring her down. They put her on a back board with a collar around her neck. They had no idea what injuries she might have so they had to take all the precautions. Once they had manoeuvred it through the hatch though, the stretcher slid down the wooden ladder and they were able to finish setting up the infusion to rehydrate her. Tanya told them about the poison, but there was nothing they could do until they had her at the hospital. They alerted the accident and emergency to the possibility, but even as they did it they all knew that it was a lost cause if she had indeed been fed the mushrooms.
Tanya refused the offer to take her in for a check over. “I’m fine, really.” They gave her a couple of paracetamol to help with her pain and recommended she have someone check her over as soon as possible. “There could be damage to your throat, you need to get it looked at.”
“I will, I will. But later. For now, we still have to find this bastard.”
Chapter 48
Sitting in Bob Scunthorpe’s office, him in his golf clothes, the officers outside in weekend mode, Tanya refused coffee but accepted a bottle of chilled water. It was bliss sliding down her sore throat.
“Are you sure you don’t need the hospital?”
She wished people would stop asking her that. Okay it looked horrible and it felt awful, but it was just something that had to heal, it wasn’t important. She shook her head, managing a thin smile.
“Have you any news about Jane Mackie?”
Now she was able to grin broadly, she had been looking forward to this. “Yes, she’s very dehydrated, she has a really nasty injury to her foot, which they’ll need to operate on when she’s strong enough but…” She took a breath, enjoyed the moment, “there’s no sign of poisoning. They’ve been able to talk to her and she says she didn’t eat anything, only drank the water. It’s crazy but it looks as though being anorexic saved her. Now that they have her they can try and address that as well. The poor thing has been to hell and back, but she’ll get proper care now and she’s young. With luck and plenty of support she’ll be okay. Kate is there with her. She’s weak and doesn’t know all that much more than we already do. Still she’ll be going home, eventually.”
“That is really great news.” He stopped, moved the pen on his blotter. “Peter Harper?”
Tanya shook her head. “Nothing yet, sir. We’ve got all units aware, the rest of my team are out there. We have crime scene investigators at the cottage. They’ve found jars of dried mushrooms, other drugs which have gone to the lab. There were bottles of bleach. The van is missing of course but we have plenty of evidence against him. It looks as though he kept Sarah in his own house and then moved on to the cottage with Millie and Jane.”
“We need to find him, Tanya, we need to be able to show that we found him.”
“Yes sir.”
“Have you any news about that other business? The theft and the suicide.”
She was able to tell him that Kate and Paul had found three more suspects they believed had been involved. “What is interesting is that they are pointing towards Harper with that.”
The Chief Inspector raised his eyebrows. “How so?”
“Deliveries. It sort of makes sense. He knew just where to park to avoid the cameras, was very familiar with the back ways in and out of the services. He told us himself that he did deliveries. It does also make a bit of sense of what seemed like an overreaction by Simpson. He must have had an idea that Harper could be involved with snatching the women. He must have picked up on the fact that he was strange. Possibly the timings fit. That might have been the guilt he was feeling rather than simply the pilfering and the glitches in his past. We’ll know more when we find Harper.”
“Right. So, I think you should go home, Tanya. Get some rest. You’ve done what you can for now. The team are out there, take tonight to recover.”
She argued, wanted to be out with the rest of them but in the end, tiredness, soreness and Bob’s insistence wore her down. She went to the office where Charlie was filling out paperwork before heading out to join the others.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Charlie. Ring me if there’s anything, anything at all and no matter what time, yeah?”
* * *
The flat was warm and welcoming. She took a shower, pulled on her soft pyjamas and crawled under the duvet. She didn’t think that she would sleep and for a while the recent events played and re-played in her mind, but she hadn’t been to bed for more than twenty-four hours and she fell into a deep sleep.
It was dark when she woke, pitch bla
ck outside and it was quiet. She felt much better, though swallowing was still difficult.
Down in the kitchen with a bottle of fridge cold water in her hand she stood by the window staring out at the night. He was out there, he surely wasn’t a danger anymore, they had found him, they knew who he was, and he had to be afraid, on the run. It was just a question of time. By now his bank accounts would be frozen, cards cancelled and if the number plate on the van was picked up by the cameras they would have him. However, he was crafty – far from stupid, even if he was deranged. He probably knew to keep away from the motorways, town centres. Where would he go? She frowned and chewed at her lower lip. Where would he hide?
She sat at her desk making notes, letting ideas come. She pulled up the reports that had been forwarded on, the pictures of the interior of the house. She clicked through them: the attic, the front room and pile of clothes, the dreadful wedding dress which had been intended to be a shroud for Jane. Then she saw it among the pictures on the wall of the kitchen. The slender figure in a pale gown, posed in the woods. No evidence of damage, no tiny teeth marks, no soaking turning the white nightdress to grey.
She wrote an email to the forensic section, told them where to look for the records. They had DNA, all they needed now was him, and then they could put a name to the corpse in the rain. The first of his angels.
They were putting his picture on all the news bulletins, so his friends, if he had any, must be aware of the situation. He couldn’t turn to them.
Where would she go? She kept herself to herself, didn’t bother with her sister. The only people she really interacted with were work colleagues, and Peter Harper worked alone. Deliveries, gardening. She must arrange tomorrow to visit anywhere he did that. House clearance he had said. She glanced at her watch. It was just after three in the morning. She was refreshed and wide awake. She stuck a couple of slices of bread into the toaster and then realised toast was not really an option. She’d have yoghurt. She turned on the coffee maker and ran up to her room for some clothes.
Broken Angel Page 17
