by Helen Phifer
‘Harrison, Harrison, can you hear me?’ He didn’t stir. ‘He’s breathing, but unconscious.’
Ben relayed the information on to the control room operator. Taking his jacket off, he covered Harrison with it.
Morgan looked at Ben. ‘Do you think he did this himself or someone else did it?’
‘Only he can tell us that. After the events this week I don’t even want to hazard a guess.’
Morgan did not know what was going on, but she’d never envisaged anything like this in her wildest dreams. She had expected her first few months to be a bit of an anti-climax after her time spent in company with Dan. He’d answered every immediate response job whenever they were on shift and every sudden death, to make sure she got plenty of experience. A feeling of overwhelming sadness filled her; how had it all gone so wrong between them? She thought they were friends and it hurt her that he had turned against her the way he had.
Feeling sorry for herself, she looked down at Harrison. Her fingers reaching out, she stroked his head. He was a teenage boy who should be thinking about nothing but having fun and what he was going to do with the rest of his life. Yet he was lying here on the ground of an empty house, lucky he was still breathing. His life would have been over before it began, just like Bea’s and Bronte’s. It made her so sad and even more determined to find out what had happened here. Maybe she could talk it through with Dan, tell him she hadn’t asked for the attachment in CID, that it had been pure luck she’d been in the right place. It wasn’t helping things that he’d been hoping for the opportunity for a long time.
They waited for what seemed like forever until finally a siren could be heard in the distance. Ben went to wait at the entrance to the drive to flag them down. The ambulance manoeuvred up the drive and parked behind Ben’s car. The two paramedics got out and raced across to where they were. She stood up to let them get near him and realised one of them was Luke.
‘What is it with this place? Hello again, I was here on Friday.’
She smiled. ‘I remember; hello, Luke. No idea, but I wouldn’t live here if they gave it to me for free.’
She stopped speaking, realising how bad it sounded. Stepping back, Morgan and Ben both watched the paramedics assess the boy. He murmured and groaned a little while they began to ask him questions and take his vital signs; the air was fraught with tension and sadness. Finally, they loaded him into the back of the ambulance.
‘Where’s he going?’
‘Westmorland General A & E is closed at the moment, so it will be RLI.’
Morgan wondered if he’d wanted to be close to Bronte. Had he done this because he wanted to be with her or had he done it because he had a guilty conscience? A patrol arrived, Dan got out and Ben began explaining the circumstances of what had happened to Harrison. Dan didn’t say much; he didn’t even look Morgan’s way. He couldn’t ignore Ben because he was his superior, but when she turned away from him she could feel his eyes burning into the back of her head. A couple of grunts later and he reversed out of the drive to let the ambulance out, then followed it. Morgan stared after him. He walked back to where she was standing, staring after Luke. Realising he was watching her, she snapped out of it.
‘Where’s he going?’
‘Hospital to keep an eye on Harrison. I’m not entirely convinced this was a serious attempt, although it wasn’t as if he knew anyone was coming this morning to rescue him. He was either very lucky that the branch snapped, and we turned up or…’
‘But he’s unconscious. Or what?’
‘Paramedic seemed to think he might be putting a little bit too much effort into acting as though he was. There’s only a slight reddening around his neck where the rope was.’
‘Oh, why would he do that?’
Ben shrugged. ‘Maybe he wanted some sympathy; at the moment everything is focusing on the Potters. He was the one who found Olivia and his girlfriend was beaten half to death; no one seems too bothered about him. Maybe he was getting a little jealous of the attention they were getting. We get people like this all the time, desperate for attention, you’ll see.’
Morgan stared at him. ‘What, you think he did this for attention? Not because he’s broken-hearted or maybe guilty.’
‘Now you’re thinking straight. Yes, he could quite easily have used a rope that he knew would snap. But maybe he is guilty, who knows? Come on, let’s get the inside of this place checked out so you can see if your theory has some substance to it. Either way we need to find some solid evidence that might link whoever did this to the crime scene, and then we can arrest them. Then everyone can get on with their lives, the boss will sleep better, and the locals won’t be terrified of going to bed. There are all sorts of rumours going around that there’s a serial killer on the loose. We need to put an end to those and fast; this is Rydal Falls, not Yorkshire.’
As they reached the front door, Morgan paused for a moment and looked up at the house. Could a house be evil? Or maybe it was unlucky. She watched as Ben fished the keys from his pocket and opened the door. Her heart beating a little faster than it normally did, she tried to stay calm as she followed him inside. The photographs she’d studied last night flashed into her mind. Staring at the stairs, she took a deep breath and paused at the bottom.
‘Stop! Get out now!’
She felt as if she was going to pass out as every bit of colour drained from her face. She didn’t need telling twice as she retraced her footsteps out of the door.
‘I’m an idiot, that kid threw me off-guard. We need to get suited and booted, just in case there is some evidence.’
‘Is that it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Jesus, you scared me. I thought you meant there was someone in there.’
He laughed. ‘Sorry, I wondered why you went white.’
They walked back to his car and began to dress in protective clothing.
Morgan couldn’t help stealing a glance back at the house. She had the distinct feeling that someone was watching her and it was giving her the creeps.
Thirty-Three
Jamie Stone walked into the council meeting late, like always, and Greg lifted his arm and looked at his wristwatch like he always did whenever this happened. Jamie shrugged, held up a hand and began to squeeze in next to Jackie and Steph, the two local councillors who seemed to idolise him. Greg felt the first tiny flames of anger ignite inside his chest and he had to flex his knuckles. He didn’t know why he let Jamie upset him this way, he just did. His ex-wife would say it was jealousy, that he was envious of the attention the man seemed to command whenever he walked into a room. Which was bullshit; he just didn’t like the smarmy bastard. He realised everyone was staring at him, waiting for him to continue, and he didn’t have a clue what he’d been talking about. He glanced down at his notepad.
‘Where was I before we were rudely interrupted? Oh yes, the terrible tragedy on Easdale Road.’
Jamie spoke up. ‘Terrible yes, but it wasn’t some tragic accident, was it? Almost an entire family has been murdered in cold blood and the police haven’t got anyone in custody for it yet. Do we know what’s going on and if they have any viable suspects?’
‘Not that I’m aware of, but isn’t this your department? You usually know far more than me. What’s the matter, have they given the media a blackout?’
He let out a laugh that echoed around the room. The look of surprise on all their faces at his reaction made him realise everyone was horrified by his words and he stopped abruptly.
‘Sorry, totally inappropriate. It’s not funny at all, I’m not saying it is. We need to reassure local residents that everything is okay and they’re safe in their homes. There are a lot of older people who live in this area, we don’t want to be scaring the living daylights out of them. Perhaps that’s why the police press office isn’t telling you anything, Jamie. We all know the reputation that paper you’re responsible for has, sensational headlines that are never factually correct, to sell papers. I sometimes
wonder how it hasn’t been shut down, the amount of complaints you must get.’
Jamie leant forward on his elbows. ‘Say it as it is, Greg, don’t hold back, will you. How can you say people are safe in their own homes? That’s rubbish, no one is safe until they have the killer behind bars. We don’t know why he killed a family. Who’s to say he isn’t out there now choosing the next? We could have the next Yorkshire Ripper on our doorstep. It happens, Greg; just because we live in a rural county it doesn’t mean people don’t do stuff like that.’
Jackie spoke up. ‘I thought the oldest daughter survived and was in hospital, have I missed something? Bless her, is she dead?’
Jamie turned to her. ‘No, sorry. She isn’t, but my source said it’s not looking very promising for her. She’s suffered terrible head injuries.’
‘Poor girl, I taught her in year six. Such a lovely family, her younger sister was a delight to teach as well. I just can’t believe it.’ Jackie sniffed and Steph passed her a tissue from her handbag.
Greg wanted to tell her to snap out of it. She was always so dramatic; there was just no need. He didn’t though. ‘So, then what are we to do? I think we need to ask for more rural patrols and get the Chief Super to make an announcement. I’ll ring him tomorrow.’ He caught the eye roll Jamie gave to Steph.
‘Right, well, has anyone got any other business? No? Let’s call it a day.’ He stood up, eager to get out of the room away from them all. They knew nothing, he knew nothing. He wanted to leave before Jamie cornered him and almost made it to the bottom of the stairs before he heard his name being called.
‘Greg, hang on.’
Stopping, he turned to face him. ‘What?’
‘You do know the history of that house, right?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Well don’t you think it’s a bit of a coincidence that two families have been murdered in the same house? Didn’t you know the first family as well? I know you were friends with Saul and Olivia Potter; there have been a fair few photos of you all snapped at various charity events.’
‘What are you insinuating? That I know more about this tragedy than I’m letting on?’
Jamie shrugged.
‘I did know the O’Briens; in fact I worked with Jason for a few years. They were a lovely family and he was a good friend. I was devastated when they were murdered, just as I’m devastated by the loss of the Potters.’
‘You have to admit it’s weird though. It’s as if that house is cursed or something. I’ve got a reporter looking into the history of it. You know it was empty for years before the Potters bought it to renovate. I’m going back to do some in-depth research, look through the archives at the paper and pull everything that’s ever been printed about what’s happened at that house. Who knows, perhaps your name will crop up once or twice. Once I’ve got my story and sold lots of papers, I’ll hand it all over to the cops.’
The smile which spread across his face made Greg want to hit him, hard, but he couldn’t; it would make him look guilty.
‘We live in a small area, of course people know each other. What do you want me to say, that I killed them all?’
‘I don’t know, is that a confession, Greg? Did you?’
‘No, it bloody well isn’t, and is this blackmail, Jamie? You must be desperate if this is all you can come up with. If you so much as print any of that on the pages of that rag, I’ll take you and the paper to court for defamation of character. I’ll sue you for so much that you’ll have to sell your house, car and shitty business to pay me. Now piss off and leave me alone before I phone the cops and tell them you’re harassing me.’
He strode out of the building, towards his car. He had to get away from here before he did something he’d regret for the rest of his life.
Thirty-Four
Morgan entered the house on Easdale Road for the fourth time in as many days; this time she walked behind Ben. He pointed upstairs and she followed him. At the top they paused.
‘Did you bring the original crime scene photos with you?’
She nodded, pulling the packet out of her pocket and passing it to him. She had put them in order of the bodies found. She looked at the photograph he held in his hand of Jason O’Brien. He would have been lying just in front of where they were standing now.
‘The plaster on the walls is new, it’s all been replaced.’
‘So is the flooring.’
Ben glanced at the polished hardwood flooring. There was thick carpet on the original. He pointed to the cupboard. It was still there; the doors and handles were new.
‘You were right, it is a fair old size.’ He opened the double doors wide. It was floor-to-ceiling height and there was shelving on one side full of board games, jigsaws, DVDs that were probably no longer used. There was also a space big enough for someone to hide in.
Morgan lifted a rolled-up duvet off the floor. ‘Look, that looks like the carpet in the photo.’
There was the smallest square of carpet sticking out from underneath the shelves. ‘Maybe the killer left something behind from all those years ago. It’s worth a shot: this and the duvet need to go to the lab to be tested.’
Ben smiled. ‘Thanks, boss, I’ll bear it in mind.’
‘Sorry, not telling you what to do. Just thinking out loud, and there is a loft hatch, look.’
Ben stared up at the small square in the ceiling. ‘Not a very big hatch, is it?’
‘Bet I could get through it.’
‘Well you can try, but first we need to bag this stuff up. Do you want to go get the evidence sacks out of the car while I photograph it?’
‘What about Wendy?’
‘If you find anything up there, we’ll ask her to come out and take over.’
She rushed to get the bags. When she got back Ben was taking an assortment of photos and videoing the cupboard on his work phone. She held the bags open, and he stuffed the duvet inside one. She opened another, he bent down and tugged the small carpet square from the floor, dropping it inside.
‘Ladder?’
‘There’s one in the garage.’
Morgan went to retrieve the stepladder and carried it back. She was out of breath. The paper suit she was wearing was like a mini sauna and she could feel her blouse sticking to her back.
Ben positioned it, handed her a torch and said: ‘You’re on, there’s no way I’ll fit through that hole.’
She began to climb the ladder, her palms slick with perspiration and her heart beating too fast. She needed to stop watching ghost-hunting programmes if they were turning her into a nervous wreck. Trying not to let Ben see how scared she was, she forced herself to continue until she reached the hatch.
‘Can you see any prints on it?’
‘Nothing obvious.’
Her throat was dry, so she nodded. Then pushed the hatch. It swung upwards and landed with a loud bang on the attic floorboards. The space up there was blacker than she’d expected. Pressing the button on the torch, she stepped onto the final rung of the ladder, putting her head and shoulders through the opening. Lifting an arm, she shone the torch around and let out her breath. There was no homicidal maniac waiting with a sledgehammer to bash her brains in.
‘Boxes, it’s just cardboard boxes.’ She said this to herself, calming her nerves.
‘Take a good look around. Can you get up there? Is the floor boarded? If it’s not, don’t put yourself at risk.’
Pulling herself up, she clambered inside. The floor was boarded and felt pretty secure. It was a big space. Her heart was still racing but she took a step inside. Shining the torch around, the beam landed on a wooden baseball bat propped in the far corner, leaning against the side of the roof. As she lowered the beam she realised the end of it was dark brown; stepping closer she saw strands of hair stuck in the brown stuff and realised it was blood.
Rushing back to the hatch, she shouted down to Ben.
‘I’ve found it; I think I’ve found the Potters’ murder weapon.’
‘Bloody hell, well done. I’ll phone Wendy now; I need you to retrace your steps and get out of there without disturbing anything.’
Morgan didn’t need to be told twice. Lowering herself back onto the ladder, she began to climb down as fast as she could. Ben grabbed her waist, lifting her off the bottom. She turned around and he high fived her.
‘Well done, we’ll make a detective out of you yet.’
Smiling, she didn’t say anything. She couldn’t tell him how scared she’d been up there in the dark on her own. She left him standing outside the cupboard on the phone to the CSI department and went outside. She needed fresh air. She felt as if she was suffocating in this paper suit which was now drenched with fear-filled sweat.
Stepping out of the door, she tugged off the hood, unzipped the top and pulled it off. Her hair was stuck to her head and her blouse was damp.
The huge oak tree where Olivia, and now Harrison, had hanged themselves from was the first thing her eyes fell on. Above her head was the CCTV camera and she looked up at it; there was a loose wire coming from it. There was the answer why no footage recorded the day of the murders. She found herself walking towards the oak tree. How had they both managed to get up there with no ladder? Unless someone removed it after they’d jumped. She dashed back towards the house, up to Ben.
‘The ladder, we need to check that for prints. If someone killed Olivia and tried to kill Harrison, they’d have used it to hang their bodies from the tree and the external camera, it looks as if it’s been tampered with.’
Ben nodded. Ending his phone call, he looked at her. ‘At this rate you’re going to be putting me out of a job and running my department. Good call, Brookes, we’ll get it taken to the lab along with the other samples.’
‘Worth a shot.’
‘Always. Keep the ideas coming; with a bit of luck you’ll have this mess solved by teatime and we can go back to chasing burglars and drug dealers.’
She went back downstairs. Even though she didn’t think either of them had climbed the tree unaided, she was going to give it a go. She’d rather be outside in the fresh air than cooped up in that house. Just knowing so many people had died such violent deaths in there scared her more than she’d ever admit.
