Louisa’s eyes widened and her lip trembled. “I’m awful sorry, Miss Saunders. I don’t mean to come off as uncaring.” She dropped her hand, her large eyes filing with tears. “I was just desperate for the work. Jobs in the industry are so hard to come by these days, unless you have qualifications or start off as a washer.” She backed off. “I’m sorry. I just thought you’d be unable to afford to stay shut for long and……..I guess I didn’t think at all. Sorry again.”
Paige sighed at the girl’s distress. She felt like she’d just kicked a puppy. “Wait!” She called out. Louisa stopped, her eyes on the pavement. Paige approached her. “I’m sorry. It’s been a really bad day.”
“It’s okay, Miss Saunders. When I lost my mum, I was inconsolable. Bit everyone’s heads off all the time.” She glanced up hesitantly, with a slight smile. “I should have been more thoughtful. My desire to work for you overcame my good sense.”
Paige felt even meaner. There was something kind of innocent and almost childlike about this girl. “Have you worked in a café before?” she asked.
She hated to admit that Louisa had a point, but she did. As much as she wanted to respect Jean, Paige couldn’t afford to be closed for long. She would need extra help and fast. Jean had been full time and none of her part time staff could cover her shifts for long.
“Not really a cafe, but my mum used to run afternoon teas for the elderly. I used to work right alongside her before she died. I’m a hard worker and have a true interest in working in the industry, as you may have gathered. I won’t let you down.” Louisa bobbed up and down on her toes.
Paige smiled at her enthusiasm. “Well, we could have a trial. See how you go.”
Louisa squealed and clapped her hands together. “You won’t regret it, Miss Saunders. When do you want me to start?”
Paige sighed. How long should she stay closed in respect for what had happened? “I don’t know yet. Give me your details and I’ll call you.”
Louisa rummaged in the small bag hanging at her hip. She pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. She wrote her name and number down and handed it to Paige.
Paige tucked it safely into the pocket of her trousers and offered her hand. “I’ll speak to you soon.”
Louisa shook her hand briefly and backed away towards town. “Thank you again. So much. See you soon, Miss Saunders.” She waved goodbye and tore off towards the park.
Paige sighed heavily and rubbed a hand down her face. She turned towards home. She felt faintly guilty about hiring someone so soon after Jean, but what could she do? She had to earn a living and she needed staff. Becki was a single mum. She’d been lucky the woman had managed to come in that morning at such short notice. She couldn’t expect her to do it every day.
Her heart heavy, Paige reached the Victorian and let herself in. She kicked off her shoes and hung her coat up. Feeling extremely tired, she pulled herself up the stairs and sank onto her bed. She ought to tell Beth and Jeremy what had happened that day, but she simply didn’t have the energy.
Paige slung a blanket over herself and cuddled up to her pillow. She thought of Sergeant Drake. He’d seemed so accepting of her. It was strange. Had he really not been afraid or disgusted by her? She wondered if Beth and Jeremy would understand. Fear gripped her stomach. Could she chance it? Would she have a choice? With the events spiralling rapidly out of her control, she was very much afraid they would find out anyway. Maybe the time had come to tell them. It was better that they heard it from her, rather than someone else.
Yawning widely, Paige drifted into a troubled sleep.
Chapter Eight
The sound of the doorbell brought Paige out of her slumber. She sat up and blinked, disorientated. The sun shone weakly through the window. She glanced down at herself, wondering why she was still dressed. Little by little, the events of the day washed over her. She groaned. How long had she slept? The clock on her bedside table told her it had been a couple of hours.
The doorbell rang again. “Alright, alright.”
She slipped off the bed and padded barefoot across the bedroom, shivering as the damp cold penetrated her clothing and chilled her bones. Her hair fell around her shoulders in a heap, having fallen out of its bun while she slept. She hurried into the hall and down the stairs. Who on Earth could be at her door? She sincerely hoped it wasn’t DI Hammond or anyone looking for gossip.
Reaching the front door, she pulled it open. A small gasp escaped her lips. Silver grey eyes bored into her own, seeming to reach down into her very soul. She instantly recognised him, of course. DI Steele was taller than he’d seemed on TV and even more striking. Her stomach fluttered. Nerves, she told herself. Who wouldn’t feel that way with a detective on their doorstep?
DI Steele glanced over her, making her knees tremble. His deadly serious expression didn’t help put her at ease. She swallowed hard, noticing he had a manila envelope tucked under his arm. She sure hoped this wasn’t going where she suspected it was.
“Miss Saunders?” he enquired. He flipped his badge open for her to see. “I’m DI Kieran Steele. May I come in?”
Paige swallowed hard, her mouth bone dry. “I know who you are. I’ve seen you on the TV.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Why are you here? I told DI Hammond everything I can.”
Steele’s mouth thinned. “Well, I think you can help further. I talked to Don. He’s a close friend of mine and one of the best damn detectives I’ve ever known.” He inclined his head to one side, studying her as if she were some rare specimen. “I admit I was extremely sceptical, but when he told me you were the real deal and I should listen to you…….well, here I am.” He spread an arm to the side, indicating her doorstep.
Paige shook her head and narrowed her eyes. She didn’t like his attitude and she refused to be intimidated by him. “I have told you where to search for your answers. I can’t help you further.” She tried to shut the door, but he stuck his foot in the way. She glared at him. “Are you harassing me, detective?”
Steele waved the file in her face. “Miss Saunders, I have two women brutally killed, and a third who, according to you, is now linked to this animal. It won’t be long before a fourth hits my desk. That is a fact. This man will not stop killing until we catch him. I need every resource at my disposal to stop him before more women lose their life.” He paused a moment. “Or doesn’t your friend’s death mean anything to you? Do you feel no sense of responsibility to bring her killer to justice?”
Paige sucked in a breath, a slight sob caught in her throat. His harsh words were like a knife through her chest. “You don’t understand. I’ve tried being that person. Delving into the deaths, the killer. It almost destroyed me.”
He nodded, his eyes growing slightly softer. “I know. Don told me your last case went bad. He also said what happened wasn’t your fault.”
Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back rapidly. She would not cry in front of this man. “It was my fault. I read the clues wrong. I accused the wrong man. Because of me someone else lost their life.”
“We all make mistakes, Miss Saunders. Every detective has to learn that they are not infallible. Just because you have……….gifts, doesn’t make you immune to stuff ups. You have to learn by it and carry on.” Steele stared deeply into her eyes. She could sense he didn’t really believe in her abilities. He was a sceptic through and through and his words rang with desperation more than sincerity. Why bother her if he thought her a charlatan? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?
As if he sensed her thoughts, he said, “I need your help, Miss Saunders. I am no closer to finding this killer and Don thinks you could be the one to crack the case. Would you truly feel no guilt if this man kills again and you hadn’t done everything in your power to stop him? What if it was someone else you know? Could you really live with that?”
Paige sighed and glanced up at the still cloudy sky, as if she could read the answer in their rolling depths. She wished she could stay out of it, but he had a horri
bly solid argument. Would she feel any better if someone was killed and she’d done nothing to help? What if it was Beth next time? She’d never get over it.
Her shoulders sagged. “Okay, you win. I’ll do what I can.” She pulled the door open. “Come in.”
DI Steele nodded. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Wait and see if I am of any help first.” Paige shut the front door behind his solid frame and headed to the kitchen. “Do you want a drink?”
“Coffee, thanks” Steele followed her in. “This is a nice place.” He commented, glancing around the warm cosy space.
“Thanks. It was my grandmother’s.” Paige picked up the kettle and filled it with water. She plugged it in and switched it on to boil. “She left me the place when she died. She wanted me to have somewhere to call my own and feel safe. My dad is happy with his own place in Devon, so he had no objections.” She removed two mugs from the stand and grabbed the instant from the cupboard.
“Instant okay?” she asked over her shoulder.
“I’m not fussed. As long as it has caffeine and is strong and dark.”
Paige nodded and spooned coffee into the mugs. “So, where do we begin on this case?”
“I need to know what you can do and how.” Paige glanced behind her. Steele had wandered over to the table and sat himself down. He was already rifling through his file. He glanced up. “In other words, what do you need from me in order to give me information?”
Paige finished making the coffee and joined him at the table. She placed a mug in front of him and sat down. “I can often feel things when I touch people, or their belongings. As you are probably aware, sometimes I dream things. My skills are varied, but it would probably help to have some kind of contact with the women that died in Hindleford. I might be able to pick up something from the killer that could be helpful.”
Steele frowned. “That might not be so easy. The victim’s personal effects are tied up in evidence and I can’t approach the families requesting you have access to their loved ones personal items. It’s been hard enough on them. I’m not sure my Superior will go for this,” he waved his hand around, “psychic stuff either. Let me think if there is a way around that.” He pulled out a notebook and pen. “Why don’t we start with your dream? Tell me in detail what you dreamt about the night Jean Holdbrook was murdered.”
Paige shivered, but she closed her eyes and recounted as best she could the details of the dream. She could hear Steele writing down notes as she spoke. She felt slightly uncomfortable relaying her information. It was hard knowing that he was only really here because he trusted Don. She’d built up a good report with Lockwood over the time she’d worked with him. It was hard to start again from the beginning with someone new. Especially someone like Steele, who was as hard and intimidating as his name.
“Have you delved into Jean at all yet?” Paige enquired, one brow lifted in question. She blew on her drink before taking a careful sip of the steaming brew. “I feel very strongly that she is our best chance at identifying the killer. She knew him.”
“I have my Sergeant going over Hammond’s investigation as we speak. He informed me just as I arrived here that she has a brother in London. The brother has already been notified by Hammond and is coming down to sort out his sister’s affairs. I have requested that my Sergeant invite him to drop into the station in order to answer some questions.” Steele sipped his own coffee. “I would like you to be there when I do.”
“When will that be, exactly?” Paige enquired.
“I’m not sure. If you give me your number, I’ll text you when I need you to come to the station.” Steele wrote down her name at the bottom of the notepad he’d been using and glanced up, expectantly.
Paige frowned. “I can’t just drop everything at short notice. I do have a business to run, you know. With Jean gone, I have staffing issues. You have to give me some time to prepare.”
“This is a murder investigation, Miss Saunders. We need to stay on top of this.” He tapped the paper with the tip of his pen, impatience rolling off him in tangible waves. “Number, please. I’ll try to give you time to sort staff for your business, but I will need you at the station when Mr Holdbrook arrives for questioning. We have to move swiftly. This man won’t stop killing until we find him and bring him in. We have no idea how quickly it will be before he strikes again.”
Paige tapped her fingers against the wooden surface of the table, but she gave him her number. Anger sliced through her in hot waves. Did he think he could dictate her life now? He didn’t even believe in what she could do!
“So, what now?” she bit out between clenched teeth. “Did you want me to go to Jean’s house? See what I can pick up from the scene?” She was reluctant to offer, but wrapping this thing up and getting this man out of her life was becoming a priority. She needed some kind of control over the situation, however small it might be.
Steele tucked his notebook into his pocket, along with his pen. “Again, I’m not sure that my superior will go for that. Forensics aren’t finished with the place yet anyway. It’s best not to disturb evidence.”
Paige sighed. “Why are you bothering with me, Detective? It is clear you don’t believe in what I can do. Why are you even here?”
Steele regarded her silently for several moments. “I have to cover all bases and I trust Don. However, I am a detective. You can’t expect me to trust you until you’ve proven to me that this isn’t all a giant waste of time.”
Paige shoved her hands through her hair. “So, you need proof? What would be good enough for you? Do you even know?” she challenged.
“I’ve been thinking about that. Can you pick anything up from photos? Does it have to be actual objects someone has owned?” He flicked the papers in his file. “I have pictures of the crime scenes from Hindleford here. Can you work with them? Gather any information that might be of help and at the same time prove to me you can actually do this?”
Paige froze. Her gaze stuck on the folder, her heart hammering in her chest. “It’s harder, but I have done it before. However, I don’t know that I want to see what was done to them. I was hoping to simply gather impressions and information without having to concentrate on the actual crime.” Ice cold flooded her veins and she rubbed her hands over her arms, hugging herself protectively.
“How are you going to be of help unless you’re delving into the crime completely?” Steele enquired, scepticism ringing through his tone. “I can’t solve a crime if I’m not willing to study the scene and the body. As horrible as it is, it’s a necessary part of investigating. Surely you saw the crimes you investigated with Don?”
Paige shivered, too afraid to be angry with him. “Of course I did, but that was a long time ago and I’ve put it behind me. I’m not sure I want to go through living with those images in my head again. It’s worse than simply seeing the crime scene, as you do. I live it!”
Steele contemplated her words while studying her face. She could tell he didn’t quite know what to make of her. Part of him was convinced she was an accomplished liar, the other part couldn’t believe his friend would be that wrong.
“I would really like to see what you can do. I don’t want to spend time on a line of investigation that isn’t………….worth my time.” Steele drew out a photograph, but held it in a way where she couldn’t see the image. “It would take a lot of work for me to persuade the chief to allow you to touch evidence. Even if you could, isn’t there a chance you will ‘see’ it anyway? This way, you can prove yourself to me and maybe find something of interest?”
Paige grabbed the photo from him with a shaking hand and slapped it down in front of her, face down. She hated him in that moment. This was one of the reasons she’d stopped helping the police. They didn’t have to live with what she saw, she did!
She glared at him, her breath heaving in and out of her body. “I really hate doing this, detective!” She paused, trying to delay the inevitable. “Will this actually convince you of m
y abilities? What happens if you decide I’m just a fake?”
She wondered if she should throw this obvious test. The only thing that stopped her was the fact he’d turn the investigation of Jean’s death over to Hammond, a man convinced she’d killed her, and the Hindleford killer wouldn’t be caught anytime soon. She couldn’t live with another death she could have prevented. As much as she hated this whole affair, she had to do whatever it took to bring the real killer to justice.
“Just give me details of the crime only known to the police. Proper details. Nothing airy fairy. That will convince me you’re worth taking a chance on.” He stared at her with a serious expression. Paige wondered if the man ever smiled.
“Fair enough.” Paige glanced at the face down photo, considering. She glanced back up at him. “When I tell you, turn the photo over and place my hand on it.”
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep steading breath. Her body trembled, but she tried to calm her thoughts. “Okay.”
She heard the paper turn over and felt his warm fingers on her skin as he placed her hand on top of the picture. At first she felt nothing, then little bits of sensation began to skitter over her awareness. Fear, pain, shock. She gasped, choking on the emotions that raged from the picture.
Breathing deep, she struggled to gather her wits. Desperately, she wished she could remove her hand, but she somehow held it in place. Images filled her mind. She gagged, horror gripping her tight. Information whirled through her brain so fast, she had trouble processing it all. Finally, everything went blank, but Paige knew what she’d seen she would never be able to forget. The Hindleford Killer was sick beyond words.
Paige lifted her hand and pushed the photo towards Steele. She was shaking so hard, her teeth practically rattled in her head. She heard him place it back in the file, only then did she open her eyes. Tears fell down her cheeks. She hadn’t even been aware she’d been crying. Cold filled her being. She wondered if she’d ever be warm again.
The Hindleford Killer (The Psychic Eye Mysteries Book 1) Page 5
