One Left Alive: A heart-stopping and gripping crime thriller (Detective Morgan Brookes Book 1)

by Helen Phifer

  He shouted over to Amy, ‘Get that folder off him.’ Then watched as Barker threw it towards the fire. Ben sprinted faster than he ever thought was possible grabbing it just as it landed on the burning pile of wood and coal. The bottom of the folder caught alight, sending a searing pain across his left hand along with the smell of burning flesh. He threw the folder onto the ground and stamped on it, an intense pain in his hand began to make it throb. The bottom of the folder was smoking and singed, but the rest of it was intact.

  The two Taser officers ran at Barker. He was knocked to the ground and cuffed within seconds. Amy began to spray the water from the hose into the fire pit. As the flames extinguished, steam rose from it and they waited to see what it was that he’d thrown into it. They could see the remnants of a rubber mask and an exceptionally large butcher’s knife. Barker didn’t say a word.

  Amy turned and read him his rights for the second time in two days. This time he wouldn’t be bluffing his way out of interview. The two officers marched him down to the van. When he was out of sight, Ben began to shake his hand.

  ‘Ouch, my hand, it’s on fire. Spray that hose on it.’

  He held it under the spray while she soaked it. ‘Oh, that looks bad. Your skin is peeling and blistered. We’d better get an ambulance, boss.’

  ‘We’d better not, you can drive me to the hospital, but not until we have a scene guard and a search team here.’

  The pain was almost unbearable, but there was no way he was giving Barker the satisfaction of seeing him like this. He reached out for the spray gun, taking it from Amy and holding his injured hand underneath it, the cold water soothing it.

  ‘Can you do the honours, get everyone here who needs to be,’ he said through gritted teeth, and she nodded. She gave a list of instructions to the control room. He didn’t dare look at his hand; he was just grateful it hadn’t been his right hand. He didn’t hear Amy request an ambulance for him; if he had he would have made her cancel it. He stared at the cardboard folder and prayed it was the one missing from the newspaper office. No one could touch it until CSI got there. He wouldn’t risk compromising any possible forensics. He wanted Barker behind bars for the rest of his life and then some.

  His phone was vibrating in his pocket, but he couldn’t answer it as his good hand was covered in water. Then Amy’s phone began to ring and she walked away to speak where he couldn’t hear her.

  ‘What happened, who needs an ambulance?’

  Morgan’s voice was breathless and high-pitched.

  ‘It’s okay, it’s Ben. He burned his hand. It’s not serious. Barker is in cuffs; he was burning what looks like evidence.’

  ‘I was so scared one of you had been hurt, then I realised it couldn’t be you because you sounded okay on the radio.’

  ‘Yeah, well he’s acting all big and hard. He doesn’t know I’ve asked for an ambulance so don’t tell him it was me.’

  ‘I won’t. Thanks, Amy, I’m glad you got him and are okay.’

  ‘See you back at the nick. Ben is going to need to go to A&E, but I’m not arguing with him. Unless you want to meet him there. You can’t come here, though, because you might cross-contaminate the scene and then everything will have been a waste of time.’

  Amy turned around to see that Ben was grimacing.

  She walked back towards him. ‘Anything I can do?’

  He shook his head. ‘Remind me not to be an idiot in future.’

  She laughed. ‘Not sure about that, for some people it comes natural.’

  Sirens echoed in the distance and she turned away.

  ‘Amy you didn’t; please tell me that’s not for me?’

  ‘I didn’t, it’s probably for someone else.’

  He could tell by the way she was avoiding eye contact that she had requested an ambulance despite his request not to. He wasn’t going to tell her this, but he was relieved. He didn’t want his hand to drop off and it didn’t seem quite so dramatic if he hadn’t asked for it.

  It wasn’t an ambulance but a car. The paramedic got out, grabbing the heavy kit bag from the back seat. He came walking towards him.

  ‘So, what have we got here?’

  Amy spoke for him. ‘He stuck his hand in a blazing fire pit to retrieve some evidence.’

  The paramedic nodded. ‘Good effort, I like it. That’s what you call dedication. Let me get this wrapped up; an ambulance is on its way to take you to hospital.’

  ‘No, thanks. I mean, yes please, get it wrapped up. I’ll make my own way there. I’m not wasting your time.’

  ‘You sure? I can take you in my car if you want.’

  ‘Positive, thanks.’

  He gave him his hand, his mind wandering as he stared into the distance. Greg Barker had all this: land, a beautiful house, money and what good was it to him? None at all, because where he was going he would be lucky to ever see freedom again and that suited Ben just fine.

  Fifty-Five

  Morgan wanted to go and see how Ben was, but she knew he’d be annoyed with her. Amy was with him and she would ring her if she needed her. It was late; it had been one long day. She watched as the tow-truck driver lifted the car onto the back of the low-loader to be taken to the big warehouse, where it would be stored until it was forensically examined. They hadn’t turned up anything else of any evidential value and she wondered why he had come here last night. Maybe he’d come to retrieve the newspaper clippings so he could take them home and dispose of them. Whatever it was, they had him now; hopefully there was enough evidence to secure a conviction. There was nothing left for her to do. She didn’t even have a lift back to the station. She’d offered to wait for the vehicle recovery to get here; the other officers hadn’t had to be told twice and left her there, freezing, without a car to sit in. It had started to rain an hour ago, fine drizzle at first but it was typical that now as she set off walking it was getting heavier and she was going to be soaked through in a matter of minutes.

  A car pulled up behind her. She turned around and smiled to see both Amy and Ben.

  ‘Need a lift?’

  She jumped into the back of the car.

  ‘You okay?’

  Ben turned to her and waved his bandaged hand. ‘I’m fine, it’s just a surface burn, more of a nuisance than anything.’

  ‘Gee, what a hero he is. If you want to know the truth he’s whinged and moaned like a child the whole time. He’s only acting all tough in front of you because he wants to impress you.’

  Morgan blushed and Ben quickly turned away. ‘Thanks, Amy, make me out to be a baby, why don’t you.’

  Amy looked at Morgan in the rear-view mirror. ‘Why are you stuck here without a vehicle?’

  ‘I offered.’

  Both Amy and Ben glanced at each other. It was Amy who spoke. ‘Rookie mistake. Look, there are certain rules and codes of conduct that come with being a detective and working in our department. For instance, if there’s a scene guard you never, ever offer to do it. Uh-uh, you just don’t. Officers and PCSOs are there to scene guard. It’s what they’re trained to do and part of their role. You are a detective now, you’re the one investigating the crimes. You pull rank; if you’re too nice you’ll get walked all over. Did anyone offer to come back and pick you up?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘See, big mistake. You’re going to have to toughen up and get used to giving the orders. But on the whole, you did good, so don’t let it get to you. Those idiots took advantage of your good nature.’

  ‘Thanks. What are we doing now?’

  ‘I’m taking you back to get your car and you’re going home for a large glass of wine or whatever you drink. Then I’m taking the hero of the day back to his house and going home myself for an alcoholic beverage and a night with Jack. All three of us will have an early night, because if you thought today was long, tomorrow will be gruelling. There’s a lot of work to do. Isn’t that right, boss?

  ‘Barker is claiming he’s having chest pains, so will be taken under armed guard
to get checked out at the hospital. Once he’s given the all-clear he’ll be brought back to custody for questioning. It’s not going to be until tomorrow, though, at least.’

  Morgan was relieved to get out of the car at the station. She felt as if she’d been told off by her aunty for being immature. As they drove away, Ben looked back at her and smiled. She drove herself home, ready to do exactly what Amy had recommended. She was tired; this week she had worked more hours than she ever imagined was possible. At least they had Barker where he belonged.

  Her flat was cold; the heating must be on the blink. She checked the boiler but didn’t have a clue how to get it working again. Instead she put her fluffiest pink pyjamas on and a thick pair of bed socks. Tomorrow she really had to go shopping: living off bowls of Crunchy Nut Cornflakes wasn’t the healthiest of diets. Sitting cross-legged on her chair, she ate the cornflakes and tried not to think of anything remotely linked to work. She needed to switch off, relax, read a book. All week she’d been far too tired to even open one, which wasn’t like her: reading was her favourite thing ever. Instead she ate her cereal and stared into the gardens; movement made her sit straight as she saw a dark figure huddled under the tree. She walked to the glass and stared at the dishevelled figure. Harrison Wright looked as if he’d been sleeping rough. His pale face had huge, black bags under his eyes. His usually perfect hair was hanging limply down over his face.

  She knocked on the window. ‘What do you want?’

  She could barely hear his muffled voice through the glass. ‘I’m freezing and starving, please let me in. I know the police are looking for me, but I’m so cold. Please, Morgan.’

  He looked scared, soaked and almost hypothermic. She couldn’t leave him outside; it was against her better nature.

  ‘Hang on.’ Slipping her trainers on, she put the door on the latch and went out into the communal hallway. She opened the front door; he was a dripping wreck.

  ‘How did you know where I live and where have you been?’

  ‘I followed you home last night. I’ve been hiding. I got scared but I’m too cold and I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I don’t know what to do any more.’

  Morgan realised that her senses had been right: she’d felt uneasy and he was why. A puddle was forming around his feet.

  ‘Come on, you can dry off and I’ll feed you, though I don’t really have a lot of food in.’

  He followed her inside.

  ‘Wait there while I grab some towels.’

  She rushed into the bathroom, grabbing a couple of bath sheets, then passing them to him. He began to frantically rub his hair, not bothering with the rest of himself until it was towel dry.

  ‘I have a pair of joggers and a hoodie I can lend you, if you don’t mind wearing my clothes. I don’t have any men’s clothes here. I’m on my own.’

  As she turned to go get them, a small smile played across his lips.

  She took the clothes into the bathroom.

  ‘You can get changed, pass me your stuff and I’ll wash it. No dryer either; they will have to go on a radiator.’

  ‘Thank you so much, that’s great.’

  As he went into the bathroom, she wondered why he hadn’t gone home or to one of his friends’; maybe he wanted to get it over and done with. Although there wasn’t much to ask him now Barker was in custody. They had their killer behind bars.

  She put the kettle on and began opening the cupboards. There were two tins of tomatoes and the box of cornflakes; the fridge wasn’t much better. Opening the freezer, she took out the emergency bottle of vodka. Pouring two shot glasses, she placed them on the counter.

  Harrison came out of the bathroom looking a little bit more human, and the clothes she’d given him were black, so they didn’t look too out of place.

  ‘You look a bit warmer now.’

  ‘Thank you so much, these are great.’

  She pointed to the breakfast stool. ‘Have a seat, I can rustle you up some tinned tomatoes or a bowl of Crunchy Nut. Don’t take too long to decide.’

  He laughed. ‘To be honest, I’m so hungry I’d eat the tomatoes on the cornflakes.’

  ‘Okay, you can have cornflakes. If you’re still hungry tomatoes can be your second course.’

  She turned away, poured the remaining cornflakes into the large glass mixing bowl and poured what was left of her milk on top.

  She passed it to him. ‘Voila, enjoy.’

  ‘Thanks, Morgan.’

  ‘Do you want a shot of vodka to warm you up?’

  He nodded and she pointed to the one nearest to him. ‘Cheers.’

  Picking hers up, she tipped her head back and downed it.

  ‘I’ll eat my cornflakes first, but you’re an expert; that was nicely done.’

  ‘Drinking shots is one of my specialities. I don’t have many but usually drink my friends under the table on the rare occasion I get to go out.

  ‘Oh, Harrison, did you know Bronte is awake?’

  He looked up, surprise registering on his face. Chewing the mouthful of cereal, he swallowed. ‘Is she? No, I didn’t. That’s amazing. When?’

  ‘Last night or early this morning. I didn’t speak to her; my sergeant did when he went to visit her.’

  ‘Did she tell you what happened?’

  ‘Unfortunately, she couldn’t remember anything, but maybe in time it will start to all come back to her.’

  ‘I bet she couldn’t. How lucky for her. I wish I couldn’t and now that Greg is going to get all the glory for a crime he didn’t commit.’

  Morgan stared at him, open-mouthed. ‘What do you mean?’

  He gulped the mouthful of food down and stared at her. ‘I didn’t want to be the one to grass, that’s why I got scared and hid. But I don’t know what to do any more and as much as I hate Greg it isn’t fair.’

  ‘Harrison, three people are dead; you’re not grassing at all. What’s not fair?’

  He lowered his face; when he lifted it again a single tear rolled down his cheek.

  ‘I was there that night, but I didn’t do it. I couldn’t stop her; she went berserk. I mean, she lost the plot completely. I’ve never seen anything like it, so much anger and rage.’

  Morgan reached in her dressing gown pocket. Taking out her phone, but keeping it out of view, she pressed the record button and slipped it back inside.

  ‘Who went berserk, Harrison?’

  ‘Bronte, she killed them all.’

  Morgan gasped. ‘What, why?’

  He didn’t look at her. ‘She hated it here; they used to live in Manchester and she loved it there. She found out at school about the last murders and was furious her parents had bought that house. Then Olivia started having an affair with that prick Greg.

  ‘We used to follow them. One night we followed them to a pub. I think Olivia tried to break it off with him but ended up fucking him in a car park. Bronte was raging about that; she was so upset and angry, said she hated her dad for making them come here and her mum was a slut. She decided to do something about it, said if they were both dead, she’d get the house. Would be able to sell it, take the money and move back to the city far away from here.’

  Harrison hadn’t touched his vodka. He pushed it towards her. Morgan picked it up and downed it. She was so shocked. It tasted a bit funny. She looked down at the glass and wondered if she hadn’t cleaned it properly.

  ‘How did Olivia end up hanging from the tree? The cameras weren’t working that day.’

  ‘Bronte did something to them, she loosened the wires. She drugged Olivia first, but she gave her too much and she died. She wanted that arsehole Barker to think it was his fault, that Olivia had killed herself because of him. I know they’d been arguing that afternoon because I heard Olivia shouting at him on the phone that it was over and she’d make him pay.

  ‘So we carried her out and hung her. It was so difficult; she was really heavy. Even in death she looked beautiful. I couldn’t believe it was happening, it was all so weird.

>   ‘I really liked Olivia, she was so pretty and always nice to me. Much nicer than Bronte ever was. Honestly that was why I stayed with her. I liked seeing Olivia; I’d always hoped she’d like me the same way she liked Greg.’

  Morgan knew she should get him to the station to give a statement, but she was scared he wouldn’t talk once he was in there and she realised she’d drunk two shots of vodka. The room was beginning to spin a little; Christ, what was she doing drinking on an empty stomach? She needed a clear head for this.

  ‘Bronte felt bad about her mum once she was dead, but it was too late: there was no going back. I think she hadn’t realised the seriousness of the situation. I mean it’s okay talking about this stuff and watching documentaries but when it’s real… She didn’t care about Bea or Saul, she hated them; she said Saul was far too weak for letting Olivia treat him the way she did. Bea was just an inconvenience; she needed her out of the way for her plan to work.’

  Morgan realised that would explain the savageness of the beatings, if she felt no love towards her sibling and father. Bronte had many traits of a psychopath.

  ‘Wow, I would never have guessed.’ The words came out much slower than usual and she felt as if she was talking through a mouthful of cotton wool. She tried to ask him who had attacked Bronte, but the words didn’t come out.

  Harrison pulled a white iPhone out of his pocket and placed it on the breakfast bar. A picture of Saul and his two daughters smiling flashed up on the screen and fear filled her mind. Olivia’s phone: she pushed herself to stand up, but her legs couldn’t hold her weight.

  Harrison had stopped eating and was watching her, with a huge smile on his face.

  ‘Bronte… who?’ she managed to say, before she felt her legs give way underneath her.

  As she slumped to the floor in a heap, Harrison was standing over her.