by Luca Veste
No amount of talk was going to drive anyone to see the path she herself could sense ahead.
The Major Crimes team were now on the periphery, waiting to take over from the small operation she and Shipley had been running up to that point. A couple of representatives sat in on the meeting – sitting with smug looks on their faces, as no doubt they silently judged Louise and Shipley.
Let them, Louise thought.
‘Settle down everyone,’ Shipley said, standing up and clearly resisting the urge to tap a pen against his mug of coffee to get everyone’s attention. ‘As you all know, we’re here to discuss the latest developments on the Coldfield case.’
‘Should be a short meeting then—’
Shipley turned his head in the direction of the now reddening face of the uniformed copper near the back who had spoken a little louder than he’d probably intended. They needed to make the others realise how serious this was – and quickly.
‘As I was saying,’ Shipley said, eyes boring into the uniform who had interrupted him. ‘The body of Nathan Coldfield was discovered in the woodland near the street where the young woman Caroline Rickards appeared after being brutally assaulted. He has been positively identified by a family member and preliminary post-mortem results show death was probably caused by blood loss. Preliminary reports of time of death put it at about twenty-four hours before Caroline emerged on the street.’
As he spoke, Louise changed the photographs appearing on the screen behind him. Remote clenched in her hand, trying not to look at the body flitting through the images.
She wasn’t usually skittish around death.
This was different.
‘Louise will take you through what we’ve found so far, so you’re all up to date.’
Shipley sat down, taking the remote from Louise as she stood up. He turned the fob over in his hand and rested his thumb on the correct button, looking up at her expectantly.
‘We’ve spoken to Nathan Coldfield’s mother, who hasn’t seen the victim in a few weeks,’ Louise said, taking over now. ‘She has confirmed the victim was acquainted with a person of the name Rhys, who we subsequently tentatively identified as a Rhys Durham, who has now become of primary interest.’
She waited for Shipley to key the button. The photograph on the screen flicked to the next one – an old mug shot of Rhys Durham, around five years out of date. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure it was the correct image. Thin-faced, sunken cheekbones, but the unmarked face of someone only in their early twenties. He could have been any shaven-headed lad, only recently thrust into the throes of adulthood before he’d intended. Still walking around town with a baseball cap on his head and a swagger in his step.
He looked normal.
‘Rhys Durham, aged thirty. He was an acquaintance of the deceased, one his mother suspected of being a bad influence on her son, even if she never directly met with him. She didn’t like him, basically, and probably had good reason not to. He has a record.’
A hand went up from the chairs in front of her. ‘What was he banged up for?’
Louise tried to pretend the interruption didn’t bother her. Like I wouldn’t have told you. ‘Many things over the years. Violence, mostly. Also, he raped a fourteen-year-old girl when he was seventeen and got probation for it. Because she led him on, apparently, according to his defence and a soft judge. We’ve spoken to the woman involved and her family. They’ve not seen or heard from Durham since the trial. The only family member of Durham’s we have been able to locate is an aunt. Hazel Durham. His parents were both drug addicts, dead before Rhys was eighteen. He was getting into trouble before then, but his violent offending increased following their deaths, before seemingly coming to a stop two years ago. The aunt also hasn’t seen Rhys in a long time, but that may have something to do with what happened to her son.’
Louise explained what she and Shipley had found at Hazel Durham’s house and her son Jon’s room in particular. Shipley flicked to the photos taken the previous day of what they had found on the teenager’s wall. Now, she could see the expressions in the room change.
‘These were done by Jon, Rhys’s cousin. They depict something most of the locals in the room will recognise.’
There were a few murmurings from the group, whispers going around. She spotted a few confused faces, but most seemed to know what it meant.
‘I know some of you will be wondering what the scribblings of a young man with a history of mental health issues has to do with the case. Well, this story has come up a number of times already.’
‘So, the Bone Keeper is real and killing people?’
Louise stared at the uniform who had interrupted Shipley earlier and was now smirking away near the back. ‘Why? Are you scared? Want to ring mummy?’
The uniform stuttered a reply, but Louise was already moving on. ‘The Bone Keeper, for those in the room unaware, is a local myth. There have been stories about him for a long, long time, but nothing has ever been found to be true. He’s the local bogeyman, with various stories attached to him. Usually the stories concern a strange thing in the woods, who takes people and makes them disappear.’
‘Basically, every missing person in the city during the past few decades has been attributed to this . . . story,’ Shipley said, loosening his tie a little. ‘But no one has ever found anything tangible.’
‘And he has his own song,’ another voice said and started to sing it, until Louise put her hand up.
‘Thank you, but that’s not necessary. We’ve all heard the stories; they go back a few decades now. People going missing, never found. There’s always someone ready to say they were seen near some woods and perpetuate the myth. We’ve never had a single sighting of anyone or anything to suggest these aren’t just the normal missing person’s reports we see all the time. Obviously, this is one avenue of enquiry at the moment, but there are many.’
Louise continued talking, but she could see she wasn’t getting through to them. They were still just stories to these people. They couldn’t see the pattern. Not yet.
‘Regardless of the “Bone Keeper” angle, this is another death that involved Rhys Durham. In what capacity, we can’t be sure yet. We’ve looked into the death of Jon. Everything pointed to suicide. Body was found near to Oglet Shore, in the south of the city. Random dog-walker, pill packets next to him. A note was also discovered on his person. Post-mortem revealed he died of an overdose.’
Shipley pressed the button in his hand, but an image of the note didn’t appear, only a photograph of Oggie Shore.
Louise didn’t glance over her shoulder this time.
‘The note read “The Bone Keeper finally found me”.’ She waited as the group caught up, visibly now beginning to see why she had brought up the local legend. ‘The coroner couldn’t determine if he had intended to cause his own death, so it was an open verdict. Most probably suicide. Jon’s mental health problems were depression, anxiety, all the usual. He had become obsessed before his death with the story of the Bone Keeper. At the inquest, this was attributed to a major depressive episode.’
More raised eyebrows now, people shaking their heads, incredulous at the path they were seeming to take. She’d lost them again.
‘Rhys Durham was asked by his aunt to spend some time with Jon,’ Louise continued, looking down at the notes she was holding. ‘He was supposed to try and lift him out of the misery Hazel thought her son was feeling. Instead, she contends that he made the issue worse. Fed his fears.’
‘The picture we’re getting of Rhys Durham isn’t a pretty one,’ Shipley said, without rising from his chair. ‘Which is why we’re eager to track him down and find out where he’s been hiding.’
‘And there’s been no sighting of him in over a year?’ the DC from the woods said. Louise had finally put a name to the face. DC Stuart Cavanagh. ‘Any clues at all?’
They had already considered this. Over and over. ‘Nathan Coldfield’s mother seems to recall him hanging around a month o
r so ago, but since then no, nothing. But we haven’t looked hard enough yet. He’s not been reported missing or anything like that. Simply disappeared off the radar. Our job is to get him out of his hidey hole. Details of Rhys Durham will be released to the press this morning. There hasn’t been much national coverage of the discovery of Nathan Coldfield’s body yet, but that could change at any moment. Hopefully someone out there will recognise this guy and we’ll have him in custody shortly. Meanwhile, I want everyone looking into every single acquaintance Rhys Durham has ever had. I don’t care how tenuous the link. He’s our main focal point right now. We find him and hopefully all this ends.’
‘What about the woman?’
‘We’ve gone over her life,’ Shipley replied, shooting a quick glance at Louise before facing the room again. ‘Seems like she was in the wrong place at the wrong time is all. She’s not allowing any visitors in to see her in hospital, but we think that’s out of embarrassment, or privacy maybe. We’ve spoken to her boss, who says she comes in, does her work, goes home again. Never any problems. Nothing on file about her and there’s no links to Nathan Coldfield that we’ve found. As I said, she’s stumbled into something that she shouldn’t have. That’s as best as we can tell.’
He began delegating responsibilities to the assembled men and women, each clearly aware of what was being asked of them. Louise could see the weight of the matter begin to drop on every shoulder as they contemplated what lay ahead.
Finding one man. Someone who hadn’t been seen in a long time. With only a single family member, seemingly, and no real friends. It wasn’t the most difficult job, but still . . . things could have been easier.
They waited for everyone to leave the meeting room, the air settling around them now they were left alone. The photograph of Rhys Durham was still on the screen behind them, almost staring straight at them. Judging their performance. Judging them, it seemed.
Nathan’s mother had been right. His eyes looked black, piercing through the photograph and into her head.
She imagined looking into them in reality, rather than just on a screen. Tensed up at the thought.
‘Do you think he’s our man?’ Shipley said, disturbing her thoughts, though she was glad of it this time. ‘Reckon he’s attacked Caroline in the same place he killed someone else a day earlier?’
‘I think it’s possible Caroline disturbed him while he was returning to the scene of the crime. We still have nothing from forensics to link him to the murder,’ Louise replied, avoiding his gaze, sliding paper into a folder and closing it over. ‘He could go no-comment in the interview and we’d struggle.’
‘Full forensics haven’t come back from the body yet,’ Shipley replied, attempting a conciliatory tone. ‘And there’s probably enough circumstantial evidence to prove it.’
‘I’m not sure about that. We’ve had stronger cases fail.’
‘At least he’d be off the street,’ Shipley replied, following Louise across the room to the now closed door. ‘God knows what he’s been up to in the last couple of years.’
Louise stopped in her tracks as she reached the door, folder under one arm, one hand on the door handle. ‘What about all this business with the Bone Keeper thing?’ she said, trying to keep her voice light. A just asking tone. ‘We have a few things now, which all seem to come back to that. Are we just going to ignore it?’
‘What do you suggest we do? Start going around looking for people wearing devil masks? It’ll be Halloween soon, we’d fill the cells with people.’
He waited for Louise to reply, but she stared him down instead. Shook her head and turned away.
‘Look, hang on,’ Shipley said, moving around towards the opening door and in front of her. ‘I admit, it’s pretty bloody weird that this thing we used to tell each other as kids has now been mentioned numerous times. I just don’t know how it links in at this point. And neither do you, otherwise you’d have told me by now. Fear does strange things to people. Maybe Rhys was going around telling people that’s who he was, but it was just a cover. If it’s him, he’s just a sick bloke, who likes to kill. Nathan was probably his first victim. Caroline disturbed him and was almost killed for the trouble.’
‘And he also knows her name? Remember, she said he’d said it before he attacked her.’
‘I think she was just confused, that’s all. At the moment, we have one victim and one person we think might, possibly, have done it. When we find Rhys Durham, we can ask him, okay?’
Louise nodded, but said nothing, as they left the room. She wondered when Rhys Durham had moved from being a person of interest to a murder suspect.
She supposed it was better a real person than a myth. She stopped, turning around to face Shipley again. ‘Sir—’
‘What have I said?’ Shipley interrupted. ‘Don’t call me that.’
Louise opened her mouth, wanting to say more. Tell him her fears. That there was more to this than either of them could comprehend. Yet, she couldn’t, not now. It wouldn’t be anything but her own dread that would come out. The thought of it constricted her chest as well. That now familiar feeling, as she felt the weight of her fears begin to crush her from within. The room growing smaller around them, as she contemplated telling him what was hidden inside her.
Instead, she shook her head.
‘Nothing, sorry.’
Fourteen
The street was in darkness by the time Shipley parked the car up outside her house. He let the car idle as Louise fiddled with her seatbelt, unable to find the release, the bag on her shoulder getting in the way.
‘Here,’ Shipley said, flicking on the overhead light. ‘You’ll be there forever otherwise.’
‘Cheers,’ Louise replied, finally getting free. She was about to open the door when Shipley put a hand on her arm to stop her.
‘Louise, what’s going on?’
She didn’t turn to face him, but also didn’t move away. There was a moment of silence, just the sound of their breathing filling the car.
‘Nothing,’ Louise said eventually, twisting his way and giving him a fake smile. ‘Just tired is all.’
‘I can sense something isn’t right,’ Shipley continued, as if she hadn’t responded. ‘You’ve been snappy all day. Not with me, before you start protesting, but I noticed it with others.’
‘There’s nothing to worry about. It’s only this whole thing blowing up overnight. I just keep thinking about Caroline, lying in that hospital bed alone.’
Shipley settled back in his seat, his hand leaving her arm. ‘I know, it’s unbelievable really. Why wouldn’t you want people around you at that point?’
Louise knew what Caroline was thinking. The shame of it, the need to punish herself for other people’s actions.
‘Who knows how close she came to being killed,’ Shipley continued, as Louise began to make a decision. ‘How did she get away? That’s what I want to know. He’s already murdered someone else in those woods, then lets the other one go accidentally? I’m not buying that.’
Louise murmured an agreement, thinking about Caroline and how she’d escaped. How she was allowed to escape. That was her feeling now. There was more to that aspect than they could see at that moment. Had to be. It made little sense otherwise.
‘You’d tell me if something was bothering you, wouldn’t you?’ Shipley said, his forehead creased with concern.
‘Of course.’
‘I care about you – you know that, right?’ Shipley said, his face softening now. She could still see the strain there, the almost earnest nature of him. ‘Plus I don’t want us to screw this up – the case, I mean.’
‘We won’t,’ Louise replied, staring into his eyes, hoping he could see how much she believed that. ‘We’ll find him.’
Shipley stared back at her, opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, then closed it again. He looked away ahead of him, towards the dark street outside. ‘Let’s hope so. You’re best getting in. Can’t imagine it’ll be any less hecti
c tomorrow.’
There was a moment when Louise almost asked him inside. A slight wavering, a massive leap into the unknown. She caught herself, smiling and saying goodbye before she had the chance to think about it again.
Louise wanted so much for things to be normal. For her life to be something else. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said, exiting the car and closing the door far too hard behind her.
She stopped at the end of her path, looking back towards the car and giving a quick wave. It was dark inside now, so she couldn’t see Shipley’s face. She knew he’d be staring at her though, trying to work out something he couldn’t.
The car suddenly came to life, taking off from the edge of the road and becoming a blur within seconds. She looked at the field opposite her house, bordered by small trees scattered at the edges. She felt something pass through her, but shook it off. Turned towards her house and strode confidently towards the door.
Louise could still smell the faint aroma of his aftershave swirling around her like a mist she was walking through.
Normal. It would have been that, to invite him into her home. Her living room. Her kitchen.
Her bedroom.
She couldn’t do that. Not now. There was simply too much to consider, too much to lose. Instead, she let herself into her empty house, a blast of cold stale air hitting her as she stepped inside. Into the silence, the sound of the distant ticking clock in the kitchen her only greeting.
Normal. You just want to be normal. That’s all.
She continued to ignore the voice in her head, removing her jacket and shoes and walking through into the kitchen. Busied herself finding something to eat, ignoring the feel of Shipley’s hand on her arm and the look on Caroline’s face as she looked up at her from the hospital bed.
Ignored them and the anger which built up inside her as she thought about Caroline. And Nathan Coldfield. The reason for them being there. For her knowing they existed. The reason she’d heard the name she’d been happy to avoid for so many years.
