DARK HOUSES a gripping detective thriller full of suspense

by Helen H. Durrant

  “Yes — positive. The CCTV from the college shows her getting into a dark blue Focus.”

  Grace gasped. “I’m sorry, Stephen,” she said. She took hold of his arm. “Look — me and my mum will sort Matilda for you. She was no trouble yesterday. You talk to her later. Tell her that her mummy has gone somewhere — her granny’s. She’ll understand that.”

  “And if Suzy doesn’t come back? What do I tell her then?”

  “One thing at a time, Stephen.”

  She was right. “Thank you, Grace. I’d be no good around Matilda anyway. I can’t sleep, can’t eat . . . it’s as if I’ve stopped functioning. I can’t even think straight.”

  “You’re going to have to try and get some rest.”

  “I can’t. My head’s a mess. I’m missing something and it won’t come. It’s been bothering me since yesterday.”

  “Like I said — you need to relax.”

  He gave a hollow laugh. Greco doubted he’d ever relax again. “If it turns out that this is our man, then Green wants me off the case,” he told her.

  “Because of Suzy?”

  “Yes. If he is involved, then I can’t be. Keep this and Suzy’s disappearance to yourself for now,” he said.

  “No problem.”

  “His name is Neville Dakin,” Greco told the team once they were back in the main office. “He hears voices.” He cleared his throat. “The voices told him to kill those girls.”

  “And he expects us to believe that?” Craig Merrick asked.

  “Until we know different, we have to. We can’t interview him properly until he has an appropriate adult with him. He’s asked for a woman called Edna from Springbank House.” He looked at Scarlett. “Ring the place and find this Edna. If she’s free, tell her about him being here and ask if she’ll come down. If she’s agreeable, would you go and collect her?”

  Scarlett nodded.

  “We’re running out of time. We need a break on this case and at the moment, Neville Dakin is all we’ve got.”

  “What about a solicitor, sir?” Merrick asked.

  “Get whoever is on duty to come in.”

  “Can we process him?”

  “No. Not yet. But when we do, I want his prints and DNA at the Duggan fast. We can have another look at that boot print too.”

  * * *

  There was a thin strip of light shining through a gap in the curtains. Daytime. But Suzy had no way of knowing what day, or how long she’d been here. She felt hungry and cold. She had a vague recollection of waking once before. She had been taped to a chair then. Now she was lying on her back on the hard floor, still naked. She was uncomfortable. Her arms were fastened to something behind her head.

  “Where . . . am I?” Her voice cracked. Her mouth was dry.

  Footsteps approached across the floor, then there was a sharp scratch on her thigh. An injection? He didn’t speak. He made no noise except to clear his throat. He was standing over her. Suzy felt the goosebumps rise. What would he do next? She was utterly terrified.

  He crouched down. His hands were on her body. They traced over the outline of her slim frame, over her breasts and down her thighs. She held her breath. Finally he wrenched her legs apart. Suzy felt his weight on top of her. The bile rose in her throat. She knew what was about to happen and was helpless to stop it.

  “Don’t!” She cried out. “Don’t . . . don’t do this. Let me go. Just leave me somewhere.” She wriggled beneath him in a useless attempt to get away.

  He grabbed her round the throat. His large, male hand was close to squeezing the breath from her body. She couldn’t even scream. All she could do was grit her teeth as he forced himself into her.

  * * *

  The next time Suzy opened her eyes, the strip of light had gone. It must be night. She was no longer lying down. Every bone and muscle in her body ached. She was hanging up by her arms and it was warmer. He’d lit a fire. She could see the flames licking up the chimney.

  Chapter 17

  “Edna Rowcroft,” she said. “I’m a senior psychiatric nurse currently seconded to Springbank from the Meriden Hospital in Manchester.” She was in her late fifties. She was plump and had grey hair pinned up in a neat bun.

  “DS Seddon will have explained why we asked you to come here?”

  “Yes, she did,” Edna stuck her nose in the air. “She spent the entire journey fishing, Inspector. I’m not a fool. I will not divulge medical information about our patients.”

  Greco looked across at Scarlett. She should have realised that. He needed this woman’s help. He certainly didn’t want her to be antagonised.

  “We need to interview Neville formally,” Greco explained. “You are the appropriate adult his condition entitles him to. He asked for you specifically. This is Mr Jarvis, the duty solicitor.”

  “I don’t understand what this is about. Is Neville in some sort of trouble?”

  “He came in here earlier today and confessed to two very serious crimes.”

  “Two? When I saw him yesterday he gave me a garbled tale about a friend of his, an ex-patient called Dan Roper. Is that it?”

  “He knew Roper?” Greco was surprised. But perhaps he shouldn’t be. It would make sense, given the trophies taken from the girls.

  “Roper’s a bad influence. I’ve advised him to keep away on many occasions, but Dan was a magnet for Neville.”

  “Dan Roper was murdered in Oldston Park yesterday. Did he tell you he was responsible?”

  “He said a lot of things. Most of it didn’t make sense. I’m not sure that’s what he meant. He may simply have seen something, heard something. Neville gets confused. Sometimes reality and the ideas in his head get mixed up.”

  “Neville came here voluntarily. He told my sergeant that he killed two young women.”

  Edna Rowcroft was visibly shocked. “That’s unlikely,” she protested. “He isn’t violent as a rule. He’s on medication that should keep him stable.”

  “And if he doesn’t take it?”

  She shook her head.

  “Does anyone monitor what he takes?”

  “He has regular blood tests. At this stage of Neville’s illness that is deemed sufficient.”

  “Nonetheless he has told us things we cannot ignore. He knows details about the killings that we haven’t released. We need to interview him formally — take his fingerprints and a DNA sample. Before that can happen we need the right people in place — you and Mr Jarvis, the duty solicitor.”

  “He trusts me. I have been assigned to his case since he started his treatment. I’m not sure how he’ll be with strangers.”

  “We’ll have to take that chance. Are you happy to start?”

  Edna Rowcroft nodded.

  When Neville saw her his face lit up. It was clear that he both knew and liked her. “Can I go home now?” he asked.

  “We’ll leave shortly.” She smiled. “First, I want you to do what this policeman tells you.”

  A young uniformed officer moved forward and took a set of fingerprints and a DNA sample from Neville Dakin.

  “Just a minute,” Greco said.

  “Neville, can I have a look at your shoes?”

  The young man held his leg out, looking puzzled.

  “Do you always wear these heavy boots?”

  “Yeah, they’re special. Keep my feet dry.”

  “Take a boot print too,” Greco advised the uniform.

  Neville looked at Edna. “Why are they doing all these things? I don’t like it.”

  “It’s okay, Neville. We’re just going to talk to these people, help them with a problem they’ve got,” she said.

  The uniformed officer left the room. Neville Dakin sat between Edna and Jarvis, while Greco and Speedy sat opposite them.

  “I don’t like this. I don’t know them.” Neville was cowering in his seat now. “Will they lock me up?”

  “It’s okay. They just want to have a chat,” Edna said.

  “They think I’ve killed someone.” />
  “You told them you had, Neville. Don’t you remember?”

  He shook his head.

  Greco was listening intently. Was this an act? The man who’d planned the killings was organised, meticulous. If Neville Dakin was the killer, then this was some show he was putting on.

  “I’m going to show you some photos.” Greco opened a folder and placed the images of Jessie Weston and Jenna Proctor on the table in front of Neville. “Do you know these girls?” They were recent photos given to Greco by their families. Both girls were smiling.

  Neville shrugged. He gave the photos a fleeting glance and turned his eyes to the wall.

  “Have a good look. Have you seen either of them before?”

  “I think that one was at the house.” Without looking away from the wall, he pointed to the image of Jenna Proctor. “She had nice hair. I took some. I put it somewhere safe.” A small smile began to curl his lips.

  “Did you hurt them?”

  “I killed their hearts.”

  “How, Neville? How did you do that?”

  “I burned through them with a hot poker.”

  Edna Rowcroft gave a little cry and put her hand over her mouth.

  “Where did you do this?”

  “I told you — at the house.”

  “Do you know where this house is?”

  “Course I do. I’m not stupid.”

  Greco took another photo from the folder. This one showed Jessie’s face, taken after she’d been found.

  “Why did you cut her like that?”

  Edna Rowcroft flinched and looked away. But Neville stared at the image with ghoulish fascination. He reached out and traced around the wound with his finger as though he was proud of his handiwork.

  “The voice said I had to. She wouldn’t smile. The voice wanted her to smile, to say thank you for being chosen.”

  Edna Rowcroft buried her face in her hands.

  “Who chose them?”

  “The voice did.”

  “Tell me about the house. Was it yours?”

  “No. I don’t know whose it was.”

  “So why go there?”

  “It was empty — no one to butt in.” His smile broadened. “I liked the girls. They were pretty. They had no clothes on. I had them both.” He looked at Edna. “I used a condom though,” he said. “No one’s getting pregnant.”

  “I can’t do this,” whispered Edna to Greco. “Please, I’ll have to leave the room.”

  “Just a few minutes more.”

  “Have you seen this woman?” He put a photo of Suzy on the table.

  Neville shook his head. “No. Not her.”

  “Are you sure?” Greco asked as calmly as he could manage. He was seething inside, trying to resist the urge to grab hold of this joker and beat the truth out of him.

  “I said so, didn’t I? Leave me alone.” He looked at Edna. “I haven’t had my pills.”

  * * *

  Greco looked at the incident board. It didn’t make sense. Neville wasn’t the man Suzy was seeing. So what was going on?

  “He’s not our man. It doesn’t add up. Yet he knows things. He recognised Jenna. He was able to describe some of what happened. And he says he’s put the hair he took somewhere safe. We’ll wait for the Duggan before we decide anything.”

  “Sir,” said George. “Dakin doesn’t have a driving licence, but the Focus is registered in his name. He must be able to drive.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “He has a room in a hostel that Springbank put him in. It’s a halfway house,” Speedy said, rolling his eyes. “He’s been placed there by a bunch of do-gooders trying to do right and getting it all wrong. The man’s a nutter — pure and simple. Even if we do get cut-and-dried evidence, it’s highly likely he’ll be declared unfit to plead. You heard him in there. He hears voices. From what he said, they dictate everything he does.”

  “He could be deliberately misleading us — covering up his guilt. We will get expert help. If he is guilty, he won’t get away with it.”

  “I won’t hold my breath, sir.”

  “We need to see that room he lives in and speak to the people there.”

  “It’s off the dual carriageway — the new build near the second roundabout before you hit the industrial estate.”

  “Right, Speedy — you know where it is, you can drive.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Grace asked.

  “I can’t sit around here doing nothing,” he told her.

  “I’m just thinking about what DCI Green said.”

  “I’ll catch up with him later. Meanwhile, you say nothing.”

  “What about Edna Rowcroft? What do I do with her?”

  “Arrange for someone to take her back.”

  * * *

  “If he didn’t do it, how come he knows so much?”

  “Because someone told him, or he was there, watching,” Greco replied.

  “You think he’s working with someone?”

  “Yes I do. Dakin knows the killer, but whether he’s able to tell us anything about him is another matter.”

  “Do you think he’s playing us?” Speedy asked.

  “Perhaps. It’s difficult to know. If he isn’t, then someone very clever is manipulating him.”

  “He could have anything going on.”

  “I don’t think he’s got what it takes to be the one we’re after. Setting things up took some organising — getting the keys and all that. Did Dakin strike you as being up to it?”

  “He’s a nutcase. They’re capable of all sorts. You just never know. Properly medicated he could be some sort of genius.”

  That was unlikely to be the case but Speedy had a point. Neville Dakin had come across as stupid at times, but that could be an act.

  “You’re looking a bit ropey, if you don’t mind me saying, sir.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Greco sighed. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, and not just the work stuff.”

  Speedy gave a humourless laugh. “You’re not on your own there. I’m a bloody mess. Work doesn’t get any easier and the whole town hates me.”

  “Anyone in particular?”

  “The whole bloody lot of them. I can’t go in the Spinners anymore. I tried after we finalised the Grady Gibbs thing, but no one would speak to me. They know I’m not to blame and they didn’t even like Gibbs much, but someone has to suffer.”

  “What are you doing about it?”

  “To be honest, sir, I’m thinking of ditching the lot — the job, the town, the whole thing. I’d do it too if I had any money. That’s the only thing holding me back. But if things get any worse, I just won’t care. I’ll take to the road, and stuff the lot of them.”

  Grace had told him that Speedy was down, but Greco hadn’t realised it was this bad. “Don’t be too hasty,” he said. “Give it some time. Try and pick yourself up. Keep at it and work will be okay. You have a future — maybe your own team one day.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that. There are times when my attitude to the job stinks, I know. You’ve said so yourself often enough.”

  Underneath everything, Speedy was a good detective. Greco didn’t want to lose him. Not to the bleak future he was painting for himself.

  “You’re doing fine at the moment. You’re putting in the hours, doing the work and losing the bad boy image. Let’s get this little lot wound up and then we’ll talk,” Greco said. “We know each other better now. I can see that you are trying. Your appearance, timekeeping, it’s all much better since that first case we worked on.”

  “I’ll give it some thought but I can’t promise anything. Up until now the force has been my life. It would be hard to leave. But if I can’t get my enthusiasm back for the job, that’s what I’ll have to do.”

  “Just give it a little longer,” Greco advised.

  “Okay. I’m up for that.”

  Speedy parked the car as near to the block as he could get.

  “We don’t want it trashing,” he told Greco
. “This place isn’t the Link but even so there’s some unsavoury characters here.”

  “How does it work?” Greco asked as they walked towards the main entrance.

  “From what I gather, they leave Springbank and other places like it and are given a room here.”

  “But they’re monitored, surely?”

  Speedy shrugged. “You know what it’s like. There’s no money for anything anymore. So who knows?”

  The main door was locked. There was a list of names and buttons on a panel to one side. Neville Dakin had room nine. Greco pressed the ‘reception’ button.

  “What do you want?” asked a voice.

  “We’re police. Open the door.”

  The door opened with a buzz. A man in overalls met them in the hallway.

  “Who is it about?”

  “Neville Dakin.”

  “We haven’t seen him for a while. I rang it in to his support worker yesterday.”

  “Would that be someone at Springbank House?”

  “Yes. Any problem with Neville and I ring Edna Rowcroft.”

  “When did you last see him?” Speedy asked.

  “Five days ago. He left here with a rucksack.”

  “Can I ask what you do here?” Greco was looking around the large hallway and the closed doors leading off it. Each door was numbered. At the end of the hall was a large sitting room. The door was open and he could see through to a garden area beyond.

  “I keep an eye on everything. There are twelve people here, all male and all recovering from mental illness. They come here because there is nowhere else for them to go. If they want anything, I sort it.”

  “What sort of anything?” Speedy asked.

  “Shopping if they can’t go out. Prescriptions fetching from the chemist. Help with applying for jobs . . . anything and everything.” He smiled. “But they are encouraged to be independent. This isn’t secure accommodation or anything like it. They go where they want and have people round.”

  “Could we have a look at Neville’s room?” They didn’t have a warrant but Greco was hoping the bloke would cooperate.

  “Is he in trouble?”

  “He could be,” Greco said.

  “Okay. A quick look won’t hurt.”

  The room was on the first floor. It was simply furnished with a bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and an armchair. It had a large window and an en-suite bathroom.