Written In Blood

by Alex R Carver

  “Is that significant?”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Doherty said unhelpfully. “It’s not the kind of thing everyone would be untroubled by. Inflicting the level of damage that I found is one thing, but carving words into a person’s body is not normal killer behaviour. I’m not a psychologist, but it’s possible it means the killer didn’t see his victim as a person, and that’s why he was able to cut into her as he did.”

  “Can you tell me what type of knife was used?” Mitchell asked, focusing on something that didn’t leave him feeling quite so disturbed. He had seen a number of knives when he searched Zack Wild’s house, but hadn’t thought to take any of them for forensic examination.

  “A switchblade, or something like that, I’ll need some more analysis to be certain.”

  That was a type of knife he hadn’t seen during his search, and Mitchell decided he would have to make a second, more thorough search. He had other things to concern himself with just then, however, and he focused on that. “She was naked when she was found, does that mean…” He had to pause for a moment before he could finish his question. “Does that mean she was raped?”

  Doherty bobbed his head in a slow, regretful answer. “Yes, I’m afraid she was. Do you need the details?” he asked with a quick glance at the young constable, a glance that made it all too clear what he thought the answer should be.

  Mitchell couldn’t help copying the pathologist and glancing at Melissa before answering the question with a brief shake of his head. “If I need them, I’m sure I can muddle through the file and figure out what it says.”

  “If you get stuck, you can give me a call,” Doherty said. “Anyway, to get back to it; the rape was as brutal as the rest of the attack, that’s all I’ll say on that, but on a positive note – and I appreciate there aren’t really any positives that can be taken from this situation – I did find plenty of DNA on the body. I’ve got semen, pubic hair, skin from under the fingernails, and saliva; if you’ve got a suspect, forensics will be able to match his DNA against what I’ve found. They’ve already got the samples I collected, so if you’re lucky and your killer’s in the DNA database, they’ll have a name for you in the next couple of days.”

  That was a possibility that pleased Mitchell. He wasn’t sure whether Zack Wild’s DNA was in the National Police Database, but he didn’t think that was likely to matter; he had no idea of the exact procedure for doing so, it was something he would have to check when he got back to the station, but he was confident he could get a sample of Wild’s DNA, and once he had that it would only be a matter of time before what he believed was proved.

  “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

  Melissa would have been amused by her superior’s use of the plural, given that she had so far been all but ignored, but she was too sickened by the description of what had been done to Georgina. She was thankful Mitchell had declined to see the photographs; after how she had reacted upon first catching sight of the teen on Saturday, and how she was feeling just then, she thought it likely that seeing the photographs would make her throw up, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

  Doherty nodded. “As I said, it’s going to take a couple of days to get anything back from the DNA samples I sent to the lab, but I can tell you the killer is O positive; it’s a fairly common blood-type, the most common amongst Caucasians in fact, but it might help you to narrow down any suspects you have.”

  38

  “Daddy!”

  The cry announced the arrival of Zack’s daughter, who reached him before he had a chance to react. In seconds, the ten-year-old had clambered up onto the bed, given him a big kiss and a hug, and settled down to cuddle with him.

  “Hello, honey.” He pulled his daughter close so she wouldn’t fall off the edge of the bed. He was both pleased and surprised to see her, and looking beyond the end of the bed he saw his ex-wife. “Hello, Cathy, what are you doing here? How did you know I was here?”

  “I called her,” Sophie said from the seat she had been occupying at the side of the room since her arrival before dawn. “I thought Cathy should know where you are.”

  “Why are you in hospital, daddy?” Joanne asked, twisting around on the bed so she could look at her father.

  “Yes, why are you here?” Cathy wanted to know. “What the hell have you been doing? Sophie said someone tried to kill you.”

  Zack glared furiously at his ex-wife, he couldn’t believe she had mentioned that while his daughter was in a position to hear; fortunately, Joanne was too distracted to register what her mother said. “I got hurt,” he said, speaking to Joanne rather than to Cathy. “I’m okay, though, I’ve got to be here for a couple of days, until I’m feeling better, then I can go home.”

  “What about Isobel?” Cathy asked, forcing her ex-husband to pay attention to her. “Sophie said she was with you. What the hell was she doing here? What the hell has been going on?”

  “Aunt Izzy’s here as well?” Joanne asked of her father. “Where is she? Is she alright?”

  “We can talk about that later,” Zack said to Cathy; he had no intention of discussing his situation while his daughter could hear, he didn’t want her knowing or worrying about the trouble he was in. “Izzy’s upstairs in another room, honey,” he told his daughter. “She’s hurt, like me, but she’ll be okay.”

  Cathy looked as sceptical as a person could. “You expect me to believe that after what Sophie told me? I’m not a fool, Zack, you should know that by now. We’ll talk about this later,” she said, as though Zack hadn’t already said as much. “Right now, I’m going to find out what helping you with your problems has cost my friend. Come on, Joanne. I said, come on.” When her daughter made no effort to move from the bed, she strode across the room and took her by the arm.

  “Oww! Don’t mummy, you’re hurting me,” Joanne cried when she was pulled by the arm and all but dragged from the bed; it was only her father’s arm around her waist that kept her from falling to the floor. “Oww!” she cried for a second time as her mother continued to pull at her arm.

  “Let her go,” Zack told his ex-wife as he held onto his daughter; he was concerned about hurting Joanne by holding onto her too tightly, but more worried about how she would be hurt if he let go of her and allowed his ex-wife to yank her away. “I said let go,” he snapped in a sharper voice. “She’s a kid, you can’t treat her like this.”

  Cathy let go of her daughter’s arm as though she had been slapped. She glared at her ex-husband for a long moment before storming from the room.

  “Are you alright, honey?” Zack asked of his daughter when he saw her rubbing her arm where her mother had grabbed her.

  Joanne nodded while cuddling her father more strongly.

  *****

  Melissa was surprised to see there were no guards at the door when she and Mitchell reached the room they had been directed to. With the circumstances being what they were, she would have expected to find a hospital security officer, if not a police officer, outside the door; it was not her place to say anything about it, however, though she was tempted to.

  “Mr Wild,” Mitchell greeted the man in the bed. “How are you feeling?”

  Zack wasn’t bothered by the lack of a genuine greeting, nor was he bothered by the perfunctory nature of the inquiry about his health; given how the sergeant had treated him since discovering he was the last person, supposedly, to see Lucy Goulding, he would have been surprised to hear any warmth or genuine concern in Mitchell’s voice.

  “I’m as well as can be expected.”

  “Shall we go to the shop and get daddy some chocolate or something?” Sophie asked as she got to her feet. She assumed the sergeant was the same one Zack had told her about at lunch yesterday, and she could see he was keen to talk to her friend about something, most likely the incident that had resulted in him being hospitalised; she didn’t think it a good idea for Joanne to be there if she was right.

  Joanne looked from her aunt to the two police
officers, and then at her daddy. Having lived through the divorce of her parents, which had been far from amicable, she knew when someone was trying to get her out of the room so an adult conversation could be had. She didn’t want to leave her daddy just then, she got to see him so rarely that she wanted to enjoy every moment before she had to go home, but she knew when to do as she was told.

  “Can I have some chocolate as well, daddy?” she asked.

  Zack smiled at his daughter. “Of course you can, honey, not too much, though, or your mother will kill me.” He accepted a kiss, and then watched as Joanne jumped down off the bed and accompanied Sophie from the room.

  Only when he was confident his daughter was out of earshot did he address Sergeant Mitchell, who was now standing at the end of the bed. “I take it you’re here to talk about last night.”

  “Yes,” Mitchell said with a quick nod before getting straight down to business, he didn’t want to be there any longer than necessary. “What happened?”

  Zack allowed himself a moment or two to order his thoughts. “After I left the police station, Isobel drove me home, where she had a lot to say about the state my home was left in, and my physical condition. She started taking pictures of everything so she could prepare a lawsuit – he took pleasure in the alarm that showed on Mitchell’s face at that – while I went into the kitchen to make some food and get something to drink. It must have been about half an hour, no more than that, after we got to my place before the food was ready, and I was just carrying it into living room when I saw something move in the garden outside the window.”

  “What did you see?”

  “At first I wasn’t sure, it was just a dark blob, a little darker than the sky outside the window,” Zack admitted. “Then I realised it was a person, and he was holding something. An alarm went off in my head and I yelled for Isobel to get down while I threw the plates I was holding and dived for cover. There was a loud blast I thought was thunder, before I realised the window had been shattered and Isobel was bleeding; that’s when I guessed it must have been a shotgun. Isobel was still on her feet, don’t ask me how, so I scrambled to mine and dived on her to get her down and safe. That’s when the shotgun went off again.

  “I was the one who got hit that time, though I didn’t know it; I was too focused on making sure Isobel was alright, or at least as alright as she could be under the circumstances. I didn’t know I’d been shot ‘til I got up to take a look out the window to see who had tried to kill me.”

  “You’re sure whoever it was, was there to kill you?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” Zack all but snapped. “People don’t generally shoot at you with a shotgun if they’re not trying to kill you.”

  “Okay, so the person in your garden was there to kill you, with the unfortunate result that they came closer to killing your solicitor.”

  “I’d hardly call it merely unfortunate.”

  “Yes, I’m sure, sorry,” Mitchell apologised with as much sincerity as he could muster. “You said you saw a dark blob, can you tell me anything about your attacker?” He mentally crossed his fingers.

  Zack thought about that for several long seconds while he conjured up an image in his mind of what he had seen. “He was about six-foot-tall, maybe a fraction over, and big built, not fat, I don’t think, but definitely not slim or medium build. I only saw a silhouette, as I said, but I’d say he was wearing dark clothes.”

  Mitchell frowned. “You’ve said ‘he’ a couple of times, what makes you so sure your attacker was male?”

  “It’s just my impression,” Zack said. “I suppose there’s a chance it could have been a woman, but given the height and build I’d say it’s a bloke. That’s all I can tell you, except I’m pretty certain the person who tried to kill me got to and from the house on foot.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I didn’t hear a car,” Zack said straightaway. “I might not have heard one when he arrived because I was in the kitchen, but if he had a car, I should have heard him drive away, I didn’t. The only reason I can think of is that he was on foot.”

  Mitchell was trying to think of something else to ask or say when his thoughts were interrupted by the return of Zack’s daughter. How she had got to the hospital shop and back so quickly he didn’t know, but it annoyed him.

  Despite the carrier bag she held in one hand, Joanne soon made it onto the bed, where she again nestled against her father. Ignoring the two police officers, she said, “We got lots of chocolate, daddy. Dairy Milk and Fruit & Nut,” she took the bars out of the bag to show him, “Aunty Sophie says that’s your favourite, and some toffees and some Malteasers – they’re for me. We got you grapes as well; Aunty Sophie says you always get grapes for people when they’re in hospital. Is that true?” she asked with a suspicious glance at her aunt.

  Zack looked over at his former sister-in-law and saw her shrug an apology, which he suspected had more to do with their unexpectedly quick return than the grapes. He then turned his attention back to his daughter. “Of course it’s true, honey,” he said. “Grapes help you get better quicker.”

  “We got you some magazines as well,” Sophie said. “They didn’t have a very good selection, but it was better than the books, so we got you what I thought you’d like.”

  “Thanks.” Zack glanced at the titles as Joanne took the magazines from the carrier to show him: Total Film, National Geographic, Heat, and a couple of others, none of which were his usual reading material, but he supposed they were better than nothing if he was going to be stuck in hospital for a few days – he had been surprised when the doctor told him he would only be there for a short time, surprised but pleased; he could only guess that his injuries were minor enough, all things considered, that he could do most of his recovering at home, which would free up the bed for someone who needed it more.

  Mitchell finally recovered from the surprise caused by the arrival of Wild’s daughter and resumed his questioning. “Do you have any idea where the figure you saw went after he left your garden?”

  Zack wasn’t comfortable with being questioned while his daughter was there, but he doubted any notice would be paid if he asked to put it off. He shook his head. “No idea; I suppose he could have gone anywhere, but I guess it’s most likely he headed back down the road to the village.”

  “Most likely. Going up the road would only have got him to the Wright Farm, and I wouldn’t have wanted to try and cross the fields at night,” Mitchell remarked. “Even with the moon out, it would have been risking a twisted ankle or some other injury. What did you do after you went to the window to look for the guy who attacked you?”

  “I called for an ambulance and you guys,” Zack said after a quick, worried glance at his daughter. Fortunately, Joanne was engrossed in unwrapping and breaking up the giant bar of Dairy Milk chocolate. “Thank you, honey.” He accepted the square of chocolate she gave him, and pretended not to notice that while he received one square, and another square was tossed to Sophie, Joanne took two for herself. “After that I must have passed out, because the next thing I remember is waking up here.”

  “Daddy,” Joanne said in a tone that Zack recognised only too well, despite the mouthful of chocolate she was talking around, as her ‘I want something’ voice. “Can I stay with you during the summer holidays?”

  “Joanne!” Cathy chose that moment to return from the ITU. “Didn’t I tell you not to mention that? I told you I would discuss it with your father when there’s an opportunity. There’s a long time to go until the summer holidays, a lot could happen between now and then,” she said with a look that made it clear that if it was at all possible, she would find a reason not to let Joanne go to her father’s. She turned to the sergeant then. “I suppose you’re here because of the attempt on Zack’s life.”

  “That’s the main reason right now,” Mitchell said with a nod. “There’s other stuff I need to question him about, but it can wait.” He really wanted to wait to talk to Wild about t
he murders, and about the missing Emily Wright, but he could see what a bad idea it would be to try and do so just then, while his suspect was being visited by his daughter and his ex-wife. “For now, I’ll settle for one last question – what’s your blood type, Mr Wild?”

  Zack could only shrug; he had never needed to know what his blood type was.

  “O positive,” Cathy answered. “Why do you want to know that?”

  “It’s nothing important,” Mitchell said quickly. He didn’t want to get into the situation with someone who wasn’t involved. “We just need to compare Mr Wild’s blood-type against a sample we have.”

  Melissa waited until the doors of the lift had closed, only then did she ask the question that was on her mind. “Have you got any idea who could have tried to kill Mr Wild?”

  “I wish I did,” Mitchell said, sounding as genuine as he could. “The last thing Oakhurst needs right now, after everything else that’s happened, is a vigilante, or whatever Wild’s attacker was, we’ve got enough to deal with. Unfortunately, Wild’s description is so vague it could be just about anyone; we can’t even say for sure whether it’s a man or a woman. Unless his solicitor can tell us anything extra when she wakes up, or someone confesses, I don’t see how we’re going to figure out who did this, we’ve got absolutely no evidence to help us.”

  “Since we’re almost certain Mr Wild’s attacker is from Oakhurst, I think we can be pretty sure it was a man,” Melissa said. “I can’t think of a single woman in the village, or even anywhere around it, that fits the description we just got. I can’t even think of any women who comes close to it; those who are tall enough are too slim, and those who are the right build are too short.”

  Mitchell glanced at his partner briefly. “I take it you’ve never met Agnes Jameson,” he said. When Melissa shook her head, he went on. “She works over at Caldern House, over near Shilverton; she’s one of the gamekeepers there, and she’s a pretty scary-looking woman, a real Amazon, with strong, not very complimentary, opinions about men. If there’s any woman in the local area who’s likely to take a shotgun to someone she thinks is responsible for raping and murdering girls, it’s her – she was attacked a few years ago, and ever since then she’s been of the opinion that pretty much all men are rapists, and should be killed for the good of humanity, or some such thing.