Written In Blood

by Alex R Carver

  39

  Jonathan Farrell noticed the police tape marking off a section of the field to his right, and glanced quickly to the passenger seat. Thankfully, his girlfriend showed no sign of having seen the crime scene, he was sure she would have said something if she had.

  “Where are you taking me?” Cynthia Potter asked, a touch of concern in her voice as the car turned off the narrow road they were driving along; the dark path they were now on looked as though it belonged in a horror movie. “This doesn’t look like the kind of place we should be.”

  “Don’t worry, it looks worse than it is,” Jonathan told her. “When the sun’s out – it was typical, he thought, that after a sunny weekend, this evening had to be cloudy – this area looks great, trust me, I’ve been here before.”

  “With other girls?” Cynthia asked, more than a trace of jealousy in her voice.

  Jonathan smiled at that, though he was careful to turn his head away so she didn’t see. “Of course with other girls. It’s not like there’s many places around here where you can get some privacy. Come on, don’t act like it’s news that I’ve had other girlfriends; I’ve had other girlfriends, and you’ve had other boyfriends.” He reached out to give her leg a reassuring squeeze. “We’re together now, and you’re the only one I want to be with, here or anywhere else.”

  “Well, alright then,” Cynthia said. “I still don’t like it here, though, it’s creepy.” Her opinion didn’t improve when they reached the end of the short drive and entered the yard surrounding the farmhouse.

  “I know it’s not the best looking of places,” Jonathan admitted, “but like I said, there aren’t many places you can go around here if you want some privacy. We can’t go to my place, my family’s there, and if we go to your place in town, your house-mates will be there. I’ve got a few things that will make the place a whole lot better, you wait.”

  He brought the car to a stop half a dozen yards from the front door of the burned-out farmhouse and got out. “Come on, give it a chance,” he said when he saw that Cynthia was reluctant to move from the passenger seat. “You go inside while I get the things I’ve brought. I promise, if you really don’t like the place, we’ll go back home.”

  Cynthia stayed where she was for more than half a minute before finally slipping the seatbelt off and exiting the car. She moved slowly across the yard to the doorway, where the door hung off its hinges, and made her way inside. She entered the dim interior with a feeling of trepidation; she didn’t think she had ever seen anywhere, let alone been anywhere, that would make a more perfect setting for a horror movie.

  Jonathan waited until his girlfriend had disappeared through the doorway, and then he made his way to the boot so he could get the things he had brought. He had the blanket slung over his shoulder, and the radio in one hand, and he was just picking up the picnic hamper, when the scream sounded from inside the house.

  He dropped everything as he spun away from the car and darted into the house. He nearly knocked over Cynthia, who was frozen like a statue just inside the doorway, when he reached the living room. It was only by twisting and half-jumping aside that he was able to avoid running into her.

  When he saw what it was that had made his girlfriend scream, he felt an urge to do likewise. The scream that threatened to un-man him subsided slowly as he turned Cynthia, who showed no sign of being aware he was there, and steered her from the room and the house. Once he had his girlfriend in the passenger seat of his car, wrapped in the blanket he had brought for them to sit on, he returned to the house.

  Jonathan stopped the moment he was over the threshold so he could steel himself, and so he could take out his mobile and call the police station. While he listened to the phone ring, he hesitantly entered the living room and slowly approached the nearest of the two objects on the floor; as much as he wanted them to change, they didn’t, they remained a pair of bodies, bodies belonging to two young girls: one clothed and the other naked.

  “Hello, Oakhurst Police Station,” Constable Black answered the phone. “How can I help you?”

  “It – it’s Jonathan F-Farrell,” he stammered into the phone as he checked the throat of the girl on the floor before him for a pulse, and fought the urge to throw up; he had seen enough of the body as he crossed the room to know the girl was no older than his little brother, which made her about fourteen, and she had suffered a great deal. “I’m at the old Harwell Farm; I’ve found – I think it’s Emily Wright and Daisy Hawkins, they’ve been attacked.”

  There was a period of stunned silence, while Black took in what he had just been told, before the constable was finally able to speak again. “Did you say you’ve found Emily Wright and Daisy Hawkins? I didn’t even know Daisy Hawkins was missing.”

  “Neither did I,” Jonathan said.

  “Are you certain it’s her?”

  “Not certain, no, but I think it’s her, I recognise the hair. She’s naked, and, oh Jesus!”

  *****

  “When was the last time you saw Daisy?” Mitchell asked of Jonathan Farrell.

  “I don’t know. She’s just a kid,” Jonathan said quickly, defensively. “I don’t pay attention to when she’s around and when she’s not. Maybe Neil would know, he goes to school with her, I think he even fancies her.”

  “But doesn’t she live just down the street from you?” Mitchell asked.

  Jonathan nodded. “Two doors down, but that doesn’t mean I know when she’s home and when she’s out, or where she goes.”

  “When’s the last time you do remember seeing her?”

  “Saturday morning,” Jonathan said after some thought. “She was walking along the street, heading away from home. Don’t ask me what time it was, I don’t remember, and I don’t have a clue where she was going.”

  “Lewis,” Stevens greeted his subordinate sombrely when Mitchell had finished questioning Jonathan Farrell and his girlfriend.

  “Sir,” Mitchell returned the greeting. With a barely concealed look of distaste he glanced around at the crowd that was being kept to the edge of the yard by his constables. He didn’t like that so many people had come from all over the village – he liked it less that so many people had found out so quickly about the discovery that had been made – it didn’t seem right to him that they should express their curiosity in such a way, especially when their presence was likely to get in the way of his investigation. “Isn’t there anything we can do to get rid of them?” he asked.

  Stevens glanced over his shoulder to see who Mitchell was referring to. “I don’t think so,” he said, though he didn’t sound certain. “I think as long as they’re keeping out of the way, and not doing anything that’s obviously wrong, they’re allowed to be there. Just ignore them, and be thankful what’s been going on around here hasn’t reached the ears of the local press.” He couldn’t help wondering how much longer it would be before that happened, it could only be a matter of time, he thought. “What exactly is the situation here?”

  Mitchell sighed, “What did Black tell you when he called?”

  “Not much. Almost nothing,” Stevens admitted. “He told me that Emily’s been found, and that Daisy Hawkins’ been found as well – I didn’t even know she was missing,” he said that last in a slightly accusatory tone, as though his officers had been keeping him in the dark about things.

  “You’re not the only one,” Mitchell said. “As far as I can tell, no-one knew she was missing.” He heaved another sigh. “I don’t get it, she’s only fourteen, someone should have realised she was missing: her parents, school, somebody. Mr Farrell thinks he saw her on Saturday morning, but isn’t sure; she’s got to have been missing for at least a day – Wild was at the station from seven, and in the hospital from one a.m. – without anyone noticing, how’s that possible?”

  “I don’t know, Lewis, it’s something we’re going to have to find out,” Stevens said. “Is it definitely Daisy Hawkins?”

  “Yes.” Mitchell nodded reluctantly. “How the hell
Mel’s coping, I don’t know.” He glanced over at Melissa and marvelled once again at how she was holding herself together; he would not have blamed her if she had fallen apart with grief upon hearing that her young cousin was now a victim of the killer who had already taken the lives of Georgina and Lucy; that hadn’t happened, however. Melissa had withdrawn into herself, but that was her only reaction to the tragedy.

  “Okay, so Daisy Hawkins is our fourth victim; what else can you tell me about the situation here?” Stevens asked. He knew he sounded cold, speaking so baldly, but he had to do it, he was sure that if he didn’t shut off his emotions as much as possible, he would not be able to cope; he had felt a twinge in his chest, and a shooting pain his left arm, when he heard what Constable Black had to say, and he worried he was on the verge of having the full-blown heart attack the doctor had been warning him about for the past year.

  “There is some good news,” Mitchell told his superior, who looked at him as if he had said something truly crazy. “Emily’s alive.” He let that sink in. “I don’t know how, but she is, just about. The paramedics say that since she’s made it this far, she’s probably going to be alright, though how long it’s going to take her to recover, and whether she’ll recover fully, they don’t know. If we’re lucky, though,” he smiled with bitter irony as he said that, “Emily will wake up and tell us who attacked her; that, plus the DNA evidence the pathologist said he found on Georgina – I assume he’s going to find more on Lucy – will be enough to convict Wild. I only wish I’d been able to get the evidence to charge the bastard before it got this far.”

  “So do I,” Stevens admitted. “Because the chief inspector is far from happy with the situation here, and that’s without hearing the latest. He hasn’t insisted on a detective taking over the case, yet, but there’s every chance he will after this, especially given the pressure he’s almost certainly getting from Sir Virgil; about the only thing that’ll stop him is us catching the killer – are you absolutely certain it’s Mr Wild?”

  Mitchell nodded emphatically. “I’m positive. I haven’t figured out how he managed to kidnap Emily and half-kill her, or when he took Daisy, but I’ve got a bit of a theory running around my head, and I am positive Wild’s our man. The pathologist was able to give me the blood-type of our killer while I was at the morgue, I checked, it matches Wild’s.”

  “Well that’s good news. I’ll tell the chief inspector, I’m sure he’ll be able to tell Sir Virgil that we’ve caught the guy who killed his great-niece, it might be enough to help us all keep our jobs.”

  The two officers stopped speaking to watch as the stretcher bearing Emily Wright was wheeled out of the house. They followed it with their eyes on its way round the side of the house to the air ambulance. Only when the helicopter had lifted off and disappeared from view did Mitchell and Stevens return to their conversation.

  “What’s your next move?” Stevens asked. “Aside from passing what you’ve got on to the CPS so they can charge Mr Wild.”

  Mitchell didn’t need to think about that. “I need to go and see Glen, tell him we’ve found Emily and she’s alive – I’m surprised he isn’t here already, he should have been able to see the air ambulance from just about anywhere on the farm – he’ll want to get to the hospital as quickly as he can. Kieran and Tara should probably go as well, just in case the paramedics are wrong and Emily isn’t going to make it.” His voice remained steady only with an effort. “After that I need to find Daisy’s parents, so I can find out how she could have been missing for so long, without being reported missing, especially given recent events. I just hope nothing’s happened to them, Wild’s got enough to answer for as it is.”

  Stevens could see how angry Mitchell was and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You worry about Glen and his family,” he told him. “I imagine they’re going to need the support of a friend. I’ll find the Hawkins and speak to them, find out what’s going on there. I think you should take Melissa with you, it might help her if she has something to concentrate on other than her cousin, and if it doesn’t, you’ll be able to get her some proper help at the hospital.”

  Mitchell nodded. He was about to get Melissa and head up the road to see the Wrights when a thought occurred to him. “Why didn’t we think to check this place out?” he asked of Stevens. “It’s such an obvious place for Wild to have brought Emily; I’ll bet Wild realised Kieran had seen him so he left, then went back to grab Emily once the coast was clear, stashed her here, fixed up his alibi, and then returned while we were at the farm so he could have his fun – the sick bastard.” There was no mistaking the disgust Mitchell felt.

  “Don’t beat yourself up. I was with the search party going through these woods on Saturday, remember; I never thought to check here either.” He shook his head. “Emily hadn’t been taken then, but chances are this is where he killed Georgina and Lucy before he dumped their bodies in the woods. Maybe if we’d checked here, we could have found the evidence to charge Mr Wild, rather than being forced to let him go. If we’d done that, Emily would never have been taken, and maybe Daisy would have been safe as well.” He was as unhappy as Mitchell about what they had and hadn’t done, but also more realistic about things. “We can’t change what’s happened, all we can do is make sure our case against Mr Wild is airtight, so he can’t ever hurt anyone else.”

  “And hope Sir Virgil doesn’t blame us for failing to catch Wild after Georgina went missing and before he could grab Lucy,” Mitchell said pessimistically.

  40

  When his phone rang, Mitchell excused himself and moved away from the waiting area, leaving the Wrights: Glen, Kieran and Tara, to their wait for someone to come and let them know what the situation was with Emily. Melissa was there as well, though so lost in her grief over the murder of her cousin she was oblivious to just about everything around her.

  “Have you been able to find the Hawkins?” Mitchell asked once he had exchanged pleasantries with his superior.

  “Yes, but it wasn’t easy,” Stevens said. “It seems they’re away at the moment, which is why they didn’t report Daisy missing; they weren’t aware she was, though you’d have thought the school would have been in touch to find out why she wasn’t there today. I had to get their contact details from a neighbour; they left on a family emergency yesterday, Ursula Hawkins’ father had a heart attack. They were going to take Daisy with them, but didn’t want her to miss school, so they made arrangements for her to stay with a friend last night and go to school with her this morning.”

  “What friend?” Mitchell’s eyes strayed to the Wrights in the waiting room, he had a horrible feeling he knew who Daisy was supposed to have stayed with.

  “Tara Wright,” Stevens answered. “According to Frank Hawkins, Daisy couldn’t go to the Wright Farm straight away because all the family had things to do; she was to stay at home and make her way to the farm in time for tea, and was then to stay the night there. I figure it would have taken her about three quarters of an hour to get to the farm from home on foot, which fits, because the neighbour I spoke to said she saw Daisy heading up the street at about five, and the Wrights were supposed to have tea at about six, if I remember what you said Glen told you.”

  “That does fit,” Mitchell said, suppressing his sudden excitement. “Wild most likely bumped into her while he was taking Emily from the house, and grabbed her so she couldn’t tell anyone where she had seen him.” The last of his excitement drained from him as a thought occurred. “What if Emily is still alive because he bumped into Daisy? What if she’s still alive because he was too busy raping and murdering Daisy?” He was struck with horror at the thought. “Jesus! How do I tell Glen his daughter’s alive right now only because Wild was too busy raping and murdering a second, younger, girl to realise she wasn’t dead?”

  “I have no idea,” Stevens admitted.

  “Have you been able to find out anything else?” Mitchell asked after half a minute or so of silence.

  “Not so
far, no,” Stevens said regretfully. “I’ve been trying to find out if anyone saw Daisy after her neighbour did yesterday, so we can be certain she was heading for the farm, but no luck yet. I want to look more closely at Wild’s alibi as well; I know you’ve proved his blood-type matches the killer’s, and you’ll have the DNA results back in the next couple of days, but it will help our case if we can prove he lied about his alibi.

  “What’s the situation over there at the hospital?” he asked in a change of subject.

  “Unknown at the moment. Unless someone’s come up with some news while I’ve been talking to you, we’re still waiting to hear what the results of the scans are, and we won’t know how good or bad Emily’s situation is until we get them.”

  Mitchell reached out to shake his friend’s shoulder, bringing him back to the here and now, as he squatted in front of him. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  It was a few moments before Glen became fully aware that Mitchell was before him, and a similar amount of time before he found his voice. “Wh…” He cleared his throat when his voice died in a croak and tried again. “What?”

  “I need to talk to you about something,” Mitchell said. “I know this is a difficult time for you, but I need to know; why didn’t you tell me Daisy Hawkins was supposed to be staying at the farm last night?”

  “Oh god!” Glen gasped, wringing his hands until his knuckles were as white as his face. “Oh god! How could I have forgotten about her?” There was a brief silence as he mentally castigated himself. “Her mum called yesterday morning, they had some kind of family emergency and had to go away; they didn’t want Daisy to miss school, so she asked me if I’d have her for the night so she could go to school with Tara this morning. I said yes, but she couldn’t come to the farm ‘til dinner time ‘cause we were all busy.