Lost Souls

by Jenny O'Brien

  She continued on her journey, passing a long table littered with an artful array of leaflets, which barely registered. Instead she headed along the corridor on the left towards the plain dark wooden door that, by a process of elimination, had to lead to where all the action took place. Her footsteps were silent against the thick pile of the carpet, the only noise to be heard her heart drumming in her ears. The fear exploding in her chest was tangible. She could almost feel it creeping along her veins and setting to work on her muscles. Who knew that knocking knees was a thing! Most of her neurons and cells wanted to turn and run, her obdurate nature the only thing that kept the soles of her shoes fixed to the floor. Hayley Prince was not going to get the better of her, a mantra that Gaby repeated, over and over in the maelstrom of her mind.

  With her hand on the brass knob, she listened a moment, her ear pressed up to the gap, before twisting the metal globe and inching the door open, millimetre by fatal millimetre, her eyes glued as the room revealed itself in short sharp bursts. The wall given over to stacked coffin-shaped fridges. The trolley angled against them as if someone had shoved it out of the way. The stainless-steel bench reflecting the light from the fluorescent strip that ran across the ceiling, a light that dazzled until her eyes adjusted to the brightness. The body of Anita Fry stretched out on top of the bench. Yes, body, because from where she was standing, there was little sign of life. The rhythmic movement of her chest absent, her pale hand dangling off the side, her fingers stretched out as if trying to touch the floor.

  She checked the room again, taking her time as she examined every corner. But the room was empty, a fact that frightened her. Where was Owen and what was she missing because she had to be missing something?

  Giving herself a little shake, she forced herself to man up and walk over to the trolley. If there was even a hair’s breadth of a chance that Anita might be still alive, it was up to Gaby to try and save her. She pushed the thought of the bloody handprint down to the cellar of her mind. Blood wasn’t her thing. It was so not her thing that it was the one fact about the job that nearly had her running for the hills each and every time she had to face it.

  There was no blood that she could see. Her fingers reached out to feel for the carotid artery on the side of Anita’s neck, the skin much warmer than she’d been expecting, her eyes widening in surprise as she felt the flicker of a pulse. Only a trace but a trace was all that was needed for her memories of the years working the beat in Liverpool to flood back, the countless Friday nights she’d spent toing and froing between the emergency department and the station. All those hours and evenings dealing with drunks, compounded by the annual mandatory course that drilled in, right down to the bone, the importance of first aid.

  After ascertaining that Anita was still breathing, Gaby managed, with a bit of tugging and quite a lot of stretching, to roll her into the recovery position without rolling her off the edge of the narrow trolley. There had to be injuries. Gaby shivered at the thought as she remembered all that blood. But bodies could mend. Skin could be sutured. She’d seen time and again the way nature, aided and abetted by medicine, could heal the most horrendous of injuries …

  Caught up in her musings, she neither saw nor heard Hayley Prince creeping out from behind the trolley and reach for the fire extinguisher, her hands clasping the cylinder between both hands and raising it aloft. All she felt was a sudden pain at the base of her skull then blackness swept away all thoughts, dispersing memories and feelings as her knees gave way and she slid to the floor.

  She didn’t see Owen arrive on the scene only a second too late to save her. She didn’t hear the tortured scream rattle in his throat at the sight of what he wasn’t able to prevent just as she was ignorant to his herculean jump across the room, which squashed Hayley Prince into a crumpled mass of raging woman. The fire extinguisher bounced off the ground in an explosion of sound, the ensuing silence only interrupted by what looked to be an army of police bursting into the room.

  Gaby, her head cradled in Owen’s arms, heard none of it.

  Chapter 55

  Gaby

  Tuesday 4 August, 5 p.m. St Asaph Hospital

  Gaby was both cool and comfortable, the first time she’d felt cool in days. She had no idea where she was or why she was lying down with a fan aimed in her direction when there was a case to be solved but she’d take whatever she could get. A few minutes more was all she needed to recover enough to open her eyes and try and make sense of it all. Just a few minutes more …

  ‘She’s a lucky son of a bitch, Rusty. If Prince hadn’t been so short and slight and Gaby so solid, your girlfriend could have been in serious trouble. As it is, she’ll have a headache for a couple of days. Nothing that rest and paracetamol can’t sort.’

  ‘Thanks, Doc. I’d better tell Owen.’

  ‘You do that. I’ve never seen anyone in such a mess as him when he brought her in.’ She heard what sounded like a back being slapped. ‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you have competition.’

  The words faded in and out but, like seeds on barren soil, gained no purchase, sleep again taking control of the situation.

  When she woke again, it wasn’t the sound of voices that roused her. There was something else. Something slightly outside of her field of vision. She frowned, trying to puzzle it out.

  ‘At last! I thought you’d never regain consciousness.’

  ‘Where am I?’

  ‘Well, you’re meant to be home with me while we make use of Conor’s sleepover,’ Rusty said, his blue eyes twinkling down at her, his fingers laced through hers. ‘Instead we’re at the hospital doing everything we can to wake you up.’

  ‘Wake me up? I don’t understand.’ Gaby tried to move her head only to discover that movement meant pain. She sank further back into the pillows and asked the thing that was worrying her. ‘Where’s Owen?’

  ‘Safe and well, back at the station probably cursing the life out of you for all the extra paperwork you’ve generated. You do know you’re going to have to stop this Dirty Harry style of law enforcement or one day Owen won’t be around to save you.’

  ‘Not again.’ She groaned, lifting her hand to her forehead and sweeping the hair away. ‘I’m never going to hear the end of it, am I?’

  ‘Nope but at least Hayley Prince is locked up and Anita, while not out of the woods, is holding her own.’

  ‘I’m glad.’ A wave of tiredness crept in from the side, trying to steal the question she wanted to ask.

  ‘You said you did everything you could to wake me up? What worked?’ she finally managed, her eyes flickering closed.

  ‘This.’ He bent his head, his lips grazing hers. ‘Have a little rest. I’m not going anywhere, Gabriella.’

  Chapter 56

  Gaby

  Friday 7 August, 10 a.m. St Asaph Police Station

  Rusty and DCI Sherlock had wanted her to take the rest of the week off but, apart from an ache in her neck, she was back to normal, or as nearly normal as anyone could get after two serious attempts on her life in less than six months.

  The incident room was humming with activity, which was how she liked it best. It meant that she could slip in behind her desk with no fuss. She’d managed to prop open the lid of her laptop before the sudden hush told her that she’d been spotted.

  ‘Welcome back, ma’am.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re well enough to return?’

  She smiled and nodded, feeling a fraud. If she’d only waited, she wouldn’t have put extra strain on the emergency services with her overnight stay. They’d only approved her discharge when Rusty had piped up with an offer to act as her responsible adult. It was stay a second night in hospital or agree to his suggestion of his spare room. She had no idea why she’d accepted instead of ringing Amy and, the way Conor had treated her, part of her regretted that she had.

  Owen was the last one to her desk, a welcome distraction from her thoughts.

  ‘Thank you for the flowers, Owen, althoug
h I think I should have bought you some instead. What do you give the person who’s saved their life twice?’

  ‘A heart attack! Seriously, Gaby, if you ever try something like that again …’

  ‘I know. Lesson learnt big time.’ She leant across the broad expanse of desk, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. ‘So, we were right?’

  ‘Well, you were. I don’t think I’ve ever been more disappointed in anyone in my whole life as I am in Hayley Prince.’

  ‘She certainly doesn’t look like a mass murderer.’ Gaby tilted her head to the front of the Llandudno Chronicle and the photo under the headline: From Grave Digger to Grave Filler.

  ‘So, how are Jason and the CSIs getting on back at her house?’

  ‘It’s going to take a while of sorting but the freezer is packed with body parts. At least it will make IDing the bodies much easier.’

  ‘Poor Ellie Fry.’ Gaby felt her eyes fill and struggled to sniff the tears back where they belonged, which was as far away from a detective’s cheeks as possible.

  ‘I think she’ll be fine now that she knows that her mum is on the mend.’

  ‘I still don’t get why Prince attacked her? What had she to gain?’

  ‘I think that’s partly my fault. I must have rattled her cage when I went to see her and later, when she heard about Ellie’s disappearance, she must have put two and two together and worked out what must have happened. It seems as if she visited Anita on Tuesday afternoon on some pretext or other and when she didn’t get the answers she was looking for, with regards to Ellie’s whereabouts, she went berserk, if the state of the kitchen is anything to go by. But we won’t know for sure until Anita is well enough to be interviewed properly.’

  ‘But what about her motive? The paltry bits and bobs she took wouldn’t have brought in much and the business, by all accounts, is booming.’

  ‘Not now it’s not. The council have closed it down. She’s not speaking either, which is a pain but we’ve come up with a motive. Whether it’s the right one or not remains to be seen.’

  ‘Go on, I’m listening,’ she said, resting her elbows on the desk and cupping her chin in her hands.

  ‘We’ve managed to find out that she’s had run-ins with both Katherine Jane and Barbara Matthews in the past. When Prince’s dad was headmaster of St Gildas, Jane on one occasion accused her of theft. The same thing happened when Prince got a Saturday job working at Bon Bons sweetshop. Rumour has it that, if it wasn’t nailed down, it would end up in Prince’s pocket. When she got older, she thought up the ultimate revenge for anyone she didn’t like.’

  ‘That’s another thing you haven’t explained.’ Gaby stole a hand to her neck, kneading the tense flesh. ‘How did Katherine’s prosthetic hip manage to find its way into the cremator when Duncan Broome had an open coffin?’

  ‘You’ll have to thank your boyfriend for that.’

  ‘Owen,’ she warned, flicking her eyes to check that no one was within hearing distance.

  ‘It’s all right, Gaby. If you think you can keep it a secret, with the enormous bunch of red roses I just spotted arriving in reception, you’re a lot dumber than I ever imagined.’ He grinned, obviously enjoying her discomfort. ‘Hayley Prince is a piece of work. Not only did she chop up the bodies, using a junior hacksaw would you believe, and store them in the freezer, she then waited for a body to turn up for cremation and slit them apart, sewing the body parts back inside. It wouldn’t have been too difficult especially if she chose the ones that had already been sutured following autopsy. The only problem was the heads.’

  ‘The heads?’ Gaby said, her voice faint.

  ‘Too large. Someone would have noticed the size and smashing up all that brain tissue. It would have gotten terribly messy even for someone with her – let’s say unusual – skill set.’ Owen shook his head. ‘They’ve found five, Gaby.’

  ‘Five,’ she repeated, not quite believing that she’d heard him correctly.

  ‘That’s right. Five heads. And the one funny thing about all this is the pen,’ he continued as if she hadn’t interrupted.

  ‘The pen?’ she whispered, her mind still thinking about all those heads.

  ‘Yes. The pen that led me to think that it might be her in the first place. It was a gift for Prince’s father when he retired from St Gildas. It even had his initials engraved on the rim of the cap. Miss Jane’s great-nephew has confirmed that her pen, from her days as Latin teacher, was among the few items forwarded on to him when the apartment was cleared. A lucky break.’

  ‘Very lucky.’

  ‘Oh, by the way, I have a gift for you.’ Owen put his hand in his pocket, withdrawing a small blue bottle with a matching bow tied around its neck, the word d’Orage etched across in gold lettering. He nudged it across the desk. ‘Don’t get any ideas. I bought it for Kate but it’s a scent I find I cannot like.’

  ‘Ah, our little hero. Take a seat, Darin. This won’t take long.’

  Gaby settled in the chair opposite DCI Sherlock, her hands neatly folded on her lap, her attention wandering between Sherlock’s bent head and CS Murdock Winters’ composed smile. It was like trying to read a lump of cheese for all the clues they were giving her as to the reason for her summons. She’d missed the interview and had very nearly missed a whole lot more but at least the newspapers had been kind.

  ‘Right then. The super and I don’t know what to do with you, Darin. What have you got to say about that, hmm?’

  Gaby decided the best option was to maintain a dignified silence. After all, it had worked the last time.

  He carried on after a moment. ‘As you are aware, we would have chosen a new DI on Tuesday if it hadn’t been for that little stunt you pulled.’

  So they hadn’t appointed Bill Davis in her absence. At least that was something.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Basically you have a proven track record and the way your team have been moping about since Tuesday, you’d think that someone in the office had died. So, if you want the appointment to be formalised, we’ve both decided that there’s only one question we need you to answer.’

  Gaby didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know if she wanted the additional pressure and she certainly couldn’t begin to second-guess what question they felt they had to ask or indeed what her reply should be.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘In hindsight, Detective, faced with the same situation that you were in on Tuesday, what would your actions be?’

  She let the air seep up her chest and out through her mouth in a silent sigh. That was easy because she wasn’t about to start lying for the sake of a job she wasn’t sure she wanted.

  ‘My actions wouldn’t change, sir. I’d do exactly the same thing again.’

  Epilogue

  Ronan

  Monday 10 August, 5 p.m. Llandudno

  Having a mother who was a lawyer had its advantages – who better to entrust your child to? With no friends or relatives on the scene, Ellie had been heading for emergency fostering by the social services until Ronan’s mum had stepped forward with a calm smile and the generous offer of accommodation until Anita was back on her feet.

  Ronan set the table for supper, the smell of lasagne bubbling gently in the oven making his stomach rumble in anticipation. Having a mum who was also an excellent cook was something he’d used to think about long into the night when the sound of pattering hooves outside his cave disturbed his sleep and heightened his anxiety. Common sense told him it was only the Llandudno goats going for a stroll but in the damp, dark, isolated cave common sense didn’t have a look-in.

  He smiled at the shouts coming from the playroom, his facial muscles getting used to shifting in an almost forgotten direction. Caleb was giving Ellie and Heather a run for their money on whichever computer game they were playing. Ronan’s smile broadened at his brother even thinking he had a chance of winning against them. He’d soon learn.

  Picking up his rucksack, he headed into the lounge. There was still two w
eeks until he joined upper sixth at St Michaels. He had a plan finally, which started with sitting his A levels. He didn’t know where his plan would take him but that was one of the things he’d learnt over the last few months. He could and would adapt to whatever life chose to fling at him next. Living on the Great Orme, he’d felt his life was over. Now he knew that it was only just beginning.

  Gripped by Lost Souls? Don’t miss Silent Cry, another unputdownable novel from Jenny O’Brien. Available now!

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  Keep reading for an excerpt from Silent Cry …

  Prologue

  Izzy

  Five years ago

  ‘Be careful. It’s the first time you’ve been out with her by yourself.’

  ‘Give over nagging, Izzy. We’ll be fine, won’t we, gorgeous?’ Charlie said, bending on his haunches and gently running his finger down his daughter’s plump cheek, her dark blue eyes staring back at him. ‘We’re going to let your mammy have some rest while we go to the shops. It’s time we got better acquainted. I can tell you all about football and which team to support.’

  ‘You will not. Don’t listen, Alys. There’s only one football team worth supporting and it’s not his,’ Izzy teased, feeling redundant now that Charlie had stolen her attention.

  This would be the first time she’d be apart from her since the birth and already she could feel the bonds of motherhood straining at the thought of Alys being out of her sight, even if it was only for half an hour. It had only taken a week for her world to shrink to the boundary walls of the house. But she’d never been happier. Her eyes grazed the pair of them, and love filled every corner. But Charlie and Alys needed this time, both of them, and a few minutes alone after another interrupted night’s sleep would be like a gift from the gods. Izzy had never felt so bone-achingly weary and, while she dreaded being apart, a rest would make all the difference.