Written In Blood

by Alex R Carver

  “It looks like you were right, Mel,” Mitchell called out, more annoyed than before that checking the field had not been his idea, though he was glad that the evidence had been found. “This seems to be the spot where Lucy was attacked; Wild said he autographed several books for her before she left his place.”

  Pleased that her idea had borne fruit, Melissa hurried over to join Mitchell. The moment she reached him she saw the books; a couple were piled together, while the others were scattered along the wall and partially concealed by the scrub grass. She also saw the remnants of the bag they must have been in, and something else.

  “Sergeant, I think you should see this.” Following the example set by her superior, she used a pen to lift the item she had found from the clump of grass it lay in.

  Mitchell was surprised by the note of revulsion in his subordinate’s voice, she sounded just as she had upon catching sight of Georgina Ryder’s body. When he saw what it was that Melissa had found, he understood her tone. Dangling from the pen Melissa held was a scrap of cloth, bright orange, and so lacy as to be sheer, a scrap of cloth that had once been a thong. He knew, without thinking or asking, that the once-thong had been Lucy Goulding’s, and that it had been ripped from her body when she was grabbed by the man who went on to kill her.

  “Jesus!” Was all Mitchell could bring himself to say for quite some time. He had been told what condition Lucy’s body was in when it was found, along with the fact that she was naked, which had led to his guessing – just as he had when he saw Georgina Ryder’s body – that Lucy had been raped before being murdered; there was something about the sight of an item of intimate clothing, so obviously torn from the body, that made his guess seem so much more real.

  “Are you okay to stay here and keep an eye on the area, while I go and arrange for the forensics people to come over and check this place out?” he asked once he recovered the ability to speak.

  Melissa nodded hesitantly, not trusting herself to speak. She wasn’t about to say as much, but the idea of staying alone where someone had been attacked, and possibly raped and murdered, made her feel distinctly uncomfortable.

  26

  Zack brought his Land Rover to a stop at the side of the road, and watched in the rear-view mirror as the figure ran down the road towards him. He was not normally in the habit of stopping for people who waved him down at bus stops, but on this occasion he recognised the person doing the waving. Even then he wouldn’t usually have stopped, but she looked so desperate that he couldn’t simply drive on without at least finding out what was up.

  “Thank God you stopped, Kier…” Emily cut herself off when she realised that it wasn’t her brother in the Land Rover she had just flagged down. “Sorry, Mr Wild, I thought you were Kieran; I can’t imagine why, up close, the two of you look nothing alike.”

  “That’s okay, Emily, I’ve got no problem with being mistaken for someone half my age,” Zack said with a smile. “And given how difficult it can be to see through a windscreen on a moving car, it’s not really a surprise that you thought I was your brother – there are superficial similarities between us: height, build, hair colour. So, why were you flagging your brother down?”

  “I was after a lift home,” Emily said. “I missed the bus, and it’s ages till the next one. I thought my luck was in when I saw Kieran, or thought I did. If I have to wait till the next bus, I’ll be late getting home, and late getting dinner ready, and dad’ll kill me.”

  “You could still be lucky,” Zack told her, noting the concern in the voice of the teen who had been helping him to tame the jungles that had once been gardens at his house. “If you ask nicely.”

  “Please, can you give me a lift, Mr Wild, I’d be really grateful,” Emily said with what she hoped was a suitably coy look.

  “Sure, I’ll take you home, and it’s Zack, remember,” he said. “I’m not keen on being called Mr Wild, it makes me feel old.”

  “Thanks.” Emily threw her bag onto the floor in front of the passenger seat and then climbed in. “And for the record, you’re not old.”

  Zack made no comment on that, instead he concentrated on pulling away from the kerb and re-joining the flow of traffic. Despite it being a Sunday, that was no easy feat, there seemed to be far more traffic on the road than was usual for an apparent day of rest. Fortunately, once he merged with the vehicles heading past the bus stop he made good time, and was soon on his way out of town.

  The journey passed without conversation until they were on the road from town to Oakhurst. That was when a wince from Zack as he pressed down on the clutch while shifting gears prompted Emily to break the silence.

  “Did Oliver do something to your foot when he attacked you last night?” she asked.

  “You know I was attacked?” Zack asked in surprised.

  Emily nodded. “The whole village knew by about eight this morning. Everyone knew why he attacked you as well.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because Sergeant Mitchell thinks you killed Georgie and Lucy,” Emily told him. “Raped and killed them even. Oliver attacked Kieran when he thought it was him who killed Georgie and Lucy, but now he thinks it’s you because Sergeant Mitchell arrested you yesterday, so he went after you. I know Oliver’s in hospital, that went round the village as well, but no-one’s said if you were hurt by Oliver and his moron friends.”

  Zack was not pleased to hear that he was the subject of village gossip. He suspected he had been previously, but then it would only have been idle gossip about who he was, what he had done or did for a living, and why he had moved there; now it concerned whether he was a murderer of teenage girls. While a part of him refused to care what a group of gossiping villagers thought of him, a more significant part was distressed by the thought that the community he had chosen to join was willing to believe him guilty of such nasty crimes. There was something else about the situation that bothered him.

  “If you know I was arrested on suspicion of rape and murder, two counts no less, why on Earth did you get in the car with me?”

  “Because Sergeant Mitchell’s an idiot,” Emily said, as though that was all the reason she could possibly need. “I know you didn’t kill Georgie or Lucy, you didn’t rape them either.”

  “What makes you think that?” Zack asked. It wasn’t that he was not glad that Emily thought him innocent, it was just that he could not help wondering how she could be so certain; she knew him better than anyone else in the village because of the time she had spent working with him in his gardens, but that didn’t mean she knew him all that well.

  “Because you’re not that kind of person. You wouldn’t rape anyone.” Emily showed absolutely no concern for the fact that she was in a vehicle with someone who had been accused of such an horrific crime, if anything she seemed amused, perhaps even thrilled by the situation. “Because, if you were going to rape anyone, it’d be me.”

  Zack was so shocked by that, he lost control momentarily; the steering wheel twitched in his hand, and he had to straighten up quickly before the Land Rover left the road and ploughed straight into one of the many trees that lined the route to the village. Once he recovered, and was no longer in danger of crashing his car, he turned to look at the teen in the passenger seat.

  “Why d’you say that?” he asked, swallowing against the dryness in his throat.

  “Because you fancy me. I know you do,” Emily said when Zack opened his mouth to deny it. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when we’re working in the garden, especially when you think I’m not looking. You like to check out my butt when I’m in shorts or tight trousers. Don’t worry about it.” She laid a reassuring a hand on his arm, a mischievous smile on her lips. “Why d’you think I wear shorts and tight trousers whenever I come round to work on your garden? I like it when you check me out, it makes me feel good.” Her hand stroked along his arm briefly before returning to her lap. “If I didn’t, I’d’ve told my dad, and he’d’ve come and sorted you out.”

  Zack d
idn’t know how to respond to that; he couldn’t deny that he had checked Emily out – as the teen described it – not when she had made it so clear she knew what he had been doing. She had said she was not bothered by his checking her out, but that didn’t make him feel any better about the situation. To cover his discomfort, he turned on the radio, letting music fill the silence and drive away the urge to make idle conversation.

  *****

  The journey from Branton to Oakhurst took a little under an hour, and a few minutes longer to get from there to the Wright farm. Zack drove into the yard that fronted the farmhouse – there was no gate for him to get out and open, thanks to Oliver Ryder – swung the Land Rover around, and pulled up near to the front door.

  “Well, here you are,” he said, glad to have the awkward journey over with. It wasn’t that he had not enjoyed Emily’s company, but he was still uncomfortable after their conversation, which had made him painfully aware of every instance in which his eyes strayed to the teen at his side – why his gaze kept doing so, he couldn’t explain, and no matter how hard he tried to stop it doing so, he couldn’t; it made no sense to him, she was attractive enough, for someone who was only sixteen, but hardly a stunning beauty.

  “Great, there’s still time for me to get dinner ready,” Emily said, the relief she felt at that evident in her voice. “Thanks, you saved my life, dad would’ve gone nuts if dinner wasn’t ready on time; he only let me go to town because I said I’d be back in time to cook. I owe you big time.”

  Zack turned his head to respond to that, and got as far as saying, “You don’t owe…” before he was interrupted, not by Emily speaking, but by her lips on his.

  Before he had a chance to realise what he was doing, Zack found himself kissing Emily back. It was a quarter of a minute before he came to his senses and pushed her away with a feeling of regret and shame.

  “No, no, we shouldn’t be doing this, it’s wrong,” he said.

  “No it’s not, why should it be wrong?” Emily wanted to know. “You like me, and I like you, why shouldn’t we kiss each other if we want to?”

  “Because it’s wrong,” Zack said in a tone that was part apologetic and part regretful. “Even if Sergeant Mitchell, and probably at least half the village, didn’t think me a rapist and a murderer, it wouldn’t be right – you’re only sixteen.”

  “It’s the age of consent,” Emily protested. “We’re not breaking the law by kissing. We wouldn’t be breaking the law no matter what we did.”

  “That may be true.” Zack could hardly deny it since he knew very well that it was true. “But it doesn’t really matter. Age of consent or not, you’re only sixteen, and I’m more than twice that. Can you imagine your father, or anyone else you know, being alright with you being involved, in any sense, with someone twice your age?”

  “Who cares what anyone else thinks,” Emily said, too caught up in the moment to worry about anything.

  “I do,” Zack said. “Nothing bad’s likely to happen to you if something were to happen between us, but it almost certainly would to me. I’ve only met your father a couple of times, but I’m sure he’d be furious if he thought I was trying to take advantage of you, and having been attacked once already, I don’t want it to happen again. Not only that, but if I let something happen between us and my ex-wife found out, she’d be so happy she’d probably dance in the street.”

  “Why would she do that? What difference does it make to her what you do?”

  Zack shrugged. “Not a lot really, at least it shouldn’t. Cathy’s interest in what I do or don’t do, extends only to how it affects her ability to keep me from seeing my daughter, and to get money from me, if she can do both at the same time, all the better as far as she’s concerned. Cathy would see something happening as a great way to stop me seeing my daughter, or at least to extort more money from me in exchange for not keeping me from seeing her.

  “You’re a great person: attractive, funny, smart, and very handy around the garden, but I have to think about my daughter, do you understand?” He hoped she did; he didn’t like to think what might happen if she didn’t understand, or became resentful of what he had said.

  Emily regarded Zack for a short time before finally saying, “Your daughter’s lucky to have you.” She got out of the car, and was about half way to the front door when she suddenly darted back to the Land Rover.

  Before Zack knew what was going on, she had jumped up and pulled herself through the open window of the driver’s door so she could kiss him again. “Maybe next time I come round I’ll dress like Lucy, that’ll give you something to look at.”

  Zack was so surprised by Emily’s actions that she was in the house, with the door closed, before he could recover, let alone react. Still dazed, he started the engine, shifted into gear, and left the yard. He spent every second of the sixty-second drive home berating himself for what he had just allowed to happen. He could not believe he had been so stupid.

  Emily was over the age of consent, he knew that, but kissing her was still one of the stupidest things he had ever done – being a suspect in two rapes and murders, both of which involved teenage girls, only made his actions more stupid. Especially when he knew Sergeant Mitchell was looking for any excuse to arrest him again; he didn’t doubt that if the sergeant were to find out what had just occurred between him and Emily, he would be in handcuffs before he could utter a word in defence of his actions. His only consolation was that there had been no-one around to witness the kiss.

  He was so distracted by what had happened, and by thinking about the possible consequences, that he didn’t realise there was a car parked in his drive until it was almost too late.

  27

  Emily was on her bed, reading a book, one eye on the clock on her bedside cabinet so she wouldn’t be late taking the meat out, when she heard a vehicle pull into the yard outside. Pushing herself up, she craned her head around to look out the window to see who it was; it was too early for it to be her dad or her brother, they were unlikely to get home until just before dinner was ready to be served.

  The moment she saw the Land Rover in the yard, she leapt to her feet, pleased that Zack Wild had returned. As pleased as she was, she was also a little nervous. She knew she had caught Zack by surprise when she kissed him, she had caught herself by surprise as well, to such an extent that she had forgotten to grab her bag when she got out of his car, and now she had had time to think about her actions, she realised what a fool she had made of herself.

  On her way out of the bedroom and down the stairs, Emily imagined the possible reasons for his return: he could be there simply to return her bag, or he could be there to make sure she was not going to tell anyone what had happened between them; he might even be there because he had changed his mind about what he had said earlier.

  She hesitated with her hand on the front door catch, reluctant to open the door and discover how her next encounter with Zack Wild was going to go. After half a minute, she took a deep breath, summoned her courage, and opened the door so she could step out into the yard.

  Zack was nowhere to be seen. Emily had thought to find him outside the front door, about to ring the bell, but he wasn’t there. She looked around the yard but couldn’t see him, which made no sense to her; she couldn’t think where he might have gone. She walked to each corner of the house to see if he was there, but there was no sign of him. Bewildered, she walked to where the Land Rover sat in the middle of the yard.

  She wasn’t normally the sort of person to go rummaging around in someone’s car without permission, it wasn’t polite, but on this occasion she thought it okay since she was after her bag. Her bag wasn’t where she had left it, though. It should have been in the foot-well in front of the passenger seat, but the foot-well was empty; leaning further into the vehicle, she searched under the passenger seat, where she found a number of items, none of them her bag.

  The desire to find out more about the man who lived down the road, and with whom she had made such
a fool of herself, made her take out each item in turn so she could examine it. She discovered little, other than that Zack Wild was messier than she had previously thought, at least initially; the first few items she pulled out were a road map of the county, an empty crisp packet, a couple of chocolate wrappers, and a hammer – she had no idea why he had a hammer under the passenger seat, it seemed a strange thing for him to have there, but it wasn’t as strange as the next thing she pulled out, a pink mobile phone.

  For several long moments, Emily simply stared at the phone; it was familiar to her, she was sure she had seen it before, but she knew it wasn’t Zack’s. She couldn’t work out where she knew the phone from, and that annoyed her because she was sure it was important; whose phone it was, and where she had seen it before, came to her in a flash when the voice sounded from behind her.

  “What are you doing?” The voice that uttered the question was curious, but evidenced no concern until she turned around and its owner saw the phone in her hand. “Where did you get that? Give it to me,” he demanded, holding out a hand insistently.

  In an instant, Emily knew who had killed Georgina Ryder and Lucy Goulding, and it was the last person she would have thought capable of murder. So great was her shock, she was left frozen to the spot, unable to react to her discovery except by staring at him. Only when he lunged at her, demanding, “Give me that phone, you nosey bitch,” did she recover the ability to move.

  At the last second, right before his grasping hand closed around her wrist, Emily twisted away. She felt a small amount of satisfaction when his momentum carried him into the side of the Land Rover, which he collided with heavily, but didn’t allow that to stop her racing across the yard to the still open front door. Once she was through the door, she slammed it closed and, with fumbling fingers, dropped the catch; she didn’t suppose that was going to keep him outside for long, but any delay was good.