by Leon, Taylor
‘Did you get a good look at him?’
‘It was dark, but he was tall, over six foot.’
‘White, black?’
‘White.’
‘Fat, slim?’
‘Average. He was good-looking. I remember that surprised me. I always thought someone who did these things would look different. And he was wearing glasses.’
I was hurriedly writing all this down. ‘We have someone coming over who’s going to sketch him from your description.’ I said
She nodded. ‘He grabbed me,’ she said, her voice weakening. ‘I kicked out at him and turned to run. He tried to grab me from behind but I managed to duck down and dive through a hole in the fence.’
‘Did he try to come after you?’
‘I’m not sure. I was so busy scrambling to get away and hide on the other side. I thought I heard him trying to come through but I don’t think he could have possibly got through that hole.’
‘Did you see what he did next?’
‘I ran behind a crane, or something. When I peered out I could see his shadow walking round the fence. I thought he was looking for another way through, so I carried on screaming and then he ran off.’
‘Which way?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘I think back towards the High Street but I couldn’t swear to it. People came running over from the flats….’ She started crying and Patti pulled her into her shoulder.
We waited a few minutes before I opened the file and took out the photos Marianne had taken off the system and I laid them out across the table.
Melanie Fairweather, Jennifer Brooks and Elias James.
Eventually Oriane turned back around to face me, and then looked down at the photos.
‘Who are they?’ she asked.
‘Do you know any of them?’
She leaned forward and looked at each for a few seconds, before shaking her head.
‘That one,’ Patti said, pointing to Jennifer Brooks. ‘Isn’t she the girl I saw on the news? The one they pulled out of the canal in Benham?’
Oriane looked at her friend and then at me. ‘Oh my God,’ she put a hand to her mouth. ‘You think the man that came after me, killed her?’
I gathered the photos up. ‘The chances are not,’ I said. ‘But we have to discount all the possibilities.’
Marianne said. ‘The sketch artist will be here in a few minutes, and then we can take you home.’
‘She’s going to stay with me for a while,’ Patti said.
‘Good,’ Marianne smiled.
‘Thank you, Oriane,’ I said to her. ‘I know how traumatic this has been for you. Would you excuse us for a couple of minutes?’
I signalled for Marianne to join me outside the closed door.
‘Can you send me the sketch as soon as it’s done?’ I whispered.
‘Of course. Do you think it’s the same person?’
‘I don’t know. Send me anything you get from the bus or street tapes.’
‘Will do,’ she said and looked at the closed door. ‘Either way, it seems like this one had a lucky escape.’
‘Very lucky,’ I agreed
16
‘I WAS TOLD I’d find you here,’ Cade said the next morning.
I was crouched down by the side of the fence near the hole that Oriane had crawled through to escape her attacker. It was almost eight o’clock and I wanted to have a good look around before the workmen started. I could already see them gathered inside the fence, chatting with one another, their morning brews in hand.
‘Look at these,’ I said to Cade and passed him my phone.
He took it from me and flipped through the pictures that Marianne had forwarded to me. The sketch that had been drawn up last night based on Oriane’s description, and then the CCTV pictures from inside the bus showing the attacker getting off behind her. His head was down and his hair covered by a hat.
‘You know the chances are, it’s not the same person we’re looking for,’ he said.
‘Or persons,’ I corrected him.
He ignored me and passed my phone back.
I squinted. There was a small swatch of grey fabric caught on the wire around the hole.
‘What have you got?’ he asked.
I reached into my bag and brought out a small pair of tweezers and gently pulled the fabric free holding it up close to my eye. It looked like there was a small trace of blood on it.
‘Oriane says the attacker might have tried to follow her through this hole.’ I dropped the fabric into a small evidence bag. ‘I’m going to run this over to the lab and get it tested.’
Cade stepped back as I rose to my feet. ‘Use the Super’s name to get it prioritised,’ he said.
I called the lab and did exactly that. They promised me an answer ASAP if I brought it straight over.
For the rest of the day it was a waiting game. I knew there was a strong chance they would come back with a zero match. That was why I had only given them half the cutting, and kept the rest for Plan B
17
THERE WERE SHADOWS around several vehicles on the far side of the car-park. The moonlit shadows were standing stock-still one moment, made sudden jerking movements the next, some crouching down, one leaning high over the bonnet.
This notorious car-park, up here on a shelf, high above the twinkling lights of the borough, had its own reputation for welcoming lovers and sinners alike. It made an ideal setting for us. After all, where would we get more privacy than up here, where the perverts led their secret lives, in the darkness away from us all?
A car drew up behind mine and alongside Bella’s. I couldn’t see inside, but I knew it was him.
22.05. Bang on time.
On cue, Bella climbed out of her car, and held out her hand as our man climbed out of his and reached out for her. He had a sinister lop-sided grin that I could even see in the darkness.
I watched Bella guide him away from the other cars and the sex silhouettes surrounding them, over towards the screen of trees on my left. He had a penchant for torturing beautiful black girls, before beating the crap out of them. They didn’t come more beautiful than Bella, which is why we knew he wouldn’t be able to resist when she responded to his ad on the net.
He had been jailed three times, but that hadn’t stopped him. Two girls had been injured so badly they wouldn’t walk properly again, and another would never be able to have children. He didn’t care. He just made sure he came as close as he could to killing them without actually doing so. It was just a question of time before he crossed that line, but The Coven was going to make sure he never got the chance.
I took the keys out of the ignition, cutting off the radio which was tuned to my favourite 80s music station. I pushed them into my coat pocket and exchanged them for my silver compact. I opened it and whispered the spell.
‘He’s here,’ I said to Jessie. ‘Are you ready?’
‘The e-mail’s done,’ she replied. ‘It’ll be sent from his home computer as soon as you give me the green light. It explains he’s gone on the run, and they might assume he’s killed himself. Up to you whether you want to get rid of his car or just leave it there.’
I looked back at his maroon Fiat.
‘We’ll leave it here,’ I said and snapped the compact shut. To my left I could see him disappearing with Bella into the darkness, beyond the tree-line.
As I climbed out of my car, the back-doors of Bella’s car opened and Frankie and Moira stepped out to join me. We moved together across the asphalt, ignored by the heavy breathing and groans coming from somewhere on our right.
The agreed meeting point was fifty yards behind the tree-line. I heard him before I saw them.
‘You want this, bitch?’ he grunted, followed by a loud crack, which meant we were a few seconds too late.
I flipped my torch on and the beam picked out Bella, sprawled on her back. He was standing over her, a skinny little so and so with an even smaller manhood hanging down limply, his jeans and boxers
already halfway down his thighs.
‘Who the hell are you?’ he called, shielding his eyes from the light. ‘Get the fuck out of here.’
I shifted the light down to Bella.
‘You’re late,’ she said. ‘I don’t like being pushed around like this. I prefer it when Frankie’s the bait.’
‘Gee, thanks,’ a voice said from behind me.
The man’s voice was shaking now as he realised something here was wrong. ‘What is this?’
‘Am I good to go now?’ Bella asked me.
‘Fine,’ I said.
Bella moved fast, one moment flat on her back, a second later she was outside my beam of light and I heard a sharp yelp, a whumpf, whumpf, whumpf, accompanied by a series of groans.
I traced the sounds with my light, until I found him crouching down, head bowed. He looked up at me in a halo of light. His face was a shiny, bloody mess, his eyes wide in fright. He was in shock, with no idea what was happening, but sure by now that he had been set up.
The others shuffled around until we formed a small circle around him.
‘Chester Giles, do you confess…’
Frankie didn’t even let me finish. ‘He’s already thinking about it,’ she said. ‘He’s guilty.’
I glanced across at her and shrugged. ‘Chester Giles,’ I said. ‘We have been inside your head and find you guilty by your own confession.’
If he wanted to protest, then we didn’t hear. We joined hands, intoned the spell and began the damnation.
****
Frankie sat with me in my car after the others had gone. I had the radio on, playing my favourite 80s music. I’ve never been able to explain why I like that era of music so much, I mean I wasn’t even around then. But there is a simplicity to the synthesized pop- new romance- that I can’t get enough of.
I reached into my glove compartment, pulled out a half packet of cigarettes and a lighter.
‘Hey,’ she said. ‘I’ve never seen you smoke before.’
‘It’s rare.’ I pulled one out and after opening the window, lit up. It felt good. Too good. I didn’t want to turn this into a habit.
‘These were Lloyds,’ I said blowing out the smoke. Lloyd had been my partner for a short while, until he retired, and was later killed by right-wing extremists.
‘Stress?’ she asked.
‘Isn’t it always? Right now, we’ve got a lunatic or a band of lunatics out there, killing like it’s going out of fashion.’
‘Cut to the chase,’ Frankie smiled. ‘I know there’s a reason you asked me to stay back with you tonight.’
‘A girl was attacked and I think the person who attacked her could be our man. I’ve got a trace of his clothing and blood…’
‘I think I know where this is going,’ she said.
18
THE COVEN’S HQ is based in Camden. We knew no-one would be there at this time, not even Jessie who seemed to work around the clock.
Frankie let us in and after turning on the lights, we took the lift down to the basement. The Coven owned offices on the second floor as well. Victoria hid our real purpose behind a business she had acquired. A business that did nothing but occupy empty offices, which we occasionally used to meet and discuss the next damnation.
Down in the basement was where the real work took place. There was a gym, complete with a boxing ring, weights and running machines. A coded door on the far side led into a smaller room that housed all manner of computers and monitors. This was where Jessie worked her magic. She was The Coven’s eyes and ears, compiling everything needed for a successful damnation. She watched over us when we carried them out, and re-created our targets’ emails and movements so their disappearances could be explained, for a short while at least.
Frankie led me through Jessie’s office and typed in another code to open a second door on the far-side which led into The Calling Room. This was The Coven’s spiritual room, where we gathered once a month to call up the spirits. We drew on their strength and power to carry out the damnations, and we in turn fed them with the bad souls that we damned.
With training and practise, the girls have also used these spirits to develop their own individual powers. Bella has super-strength, Moira has super-speed and Frankie has developed various forms of telepathy and telekinesis. Maybe one day I’ll make time to learn something for myself.
Frankie closed the door and turned on the dimmer switch. Taking a packet of matches from the sideboard she went into the centre of the room and the white five-pointed star which was drawn on the black floor. She lit each of the violet candles in their tall holders and then sat cross legged in the middle.
‘Turn the lights out, and come and sit opposite me,’ she said, and laid the tiny swatch of fabric I had given her, on her lap.
In the candle-light I watched her close her eyes, whisper a spell, and place a finger from each hand on the cloth. She was calling on her power to get inside people’s heads. By using the blood on the fabric, she hoped to see the world through the subject’s eyes. This wasn’t fool-proof. Some minds were harder to break into than others, and the subject’s brain would eventually recognise the invasion and create a defence mechanism which would shut Frankie out. But we had to give it a go.
After twenty minutes or so of silence, Frankie started speaking in low voice, her face still, as though she were in a trance.
‘I’m standing in the street,’ she said. ‘There’s a row of small terraced houses in front of me. I’m not moving. Just standing in some shadows watching from across the road. I’m looking at one house. There’s a six on the front door. It’s either number thirty-six or eighty-six. I’m not sure. I’m crossing the road now, opening the small gate and walking up the pathway to the front door. It is number thirty-six and there are lights on inside
‘A woman’s voice is calling out, asking who it is. I’m telling her I’m a neighbour, and someone left me a parcel when she was out. She’s opening the door just a little way. She’s pretty with shoulder length dark hair. She’s in a white patterned shirt. She’s frowning at me and I can tell she’s never seen me before. Her face is flushed. She says she’s been full of flu for the last few days and off work. Tells me to not come too close. She says she didn’t order anything. I hold up a small box and suggest she takes it anyway, after all it has her name on it.
The door opens a little wider and she’s reaching to take the parcel. I’m jumping forward, pushing her back inside the house. I’m punching her hard in the chest, winding her so she doesn’t scream. I hear a slam behind me as I kick the door shut…’
Oh Jesus, no!
‘Frankie, I need to know where you are,’ I said.
She’s fallen back against the stairs, clutching her chest. She’s rolling away and staggering into the room on her left. But I’m onto her, grabbing the back of her shirt, forcing her down onto the tiled floor…’
A murder was taking place right now, and Frankie was watching it all happen, but helpless and unable to intervene.
‘WHERE ARE YOU?’ I shouted.
Frankie had tears coursing down her cheeks. ‘She’s lying on the floor, and I’m on her back. She’s crying out, and I’m pulling her head back by her long hair. I’ve just smashed it onto the floor. Oh God, I’m lifting her head and doing it again and again…’
‘You must stay there Frankie…’
‘Please, I can’t stay…’
‘Don’t leave yet. Please. Look for something, anything to tell me where you are, who she is.’
‘She’s lying face-down. There a huge pool of blood forming under her face. But she’s not dead, I can see her fingers moving. I’m kneeling over her, slipping my hands down and around her throat and I’m squeezing. Her body is shaking and bucking and I’m almost thrown off.’
Frankie paused, her breathing slowing down. ‘She’s not moving,’ she whispered.
‘Frankie, is there anything around you that can tell me where you are?’
‘I’m just sitting on her back
, looking down. She’s not moving.’
‘Please Frankie, something, anything…’
‘Now, I’m getting up. There’s a mirror in front of me and I’m looking straight into it...OH MY GOD!’
Frankie’s eyes shot open. Wide and staring she was looking at me. No, through me like a woman possessed. With tears streaming, she launched herself forward, throwing her arms around me and sobbing hysterically.
‘He killed her,’ she cried. ‘I watched him kill her.’
I held her tight for several minutes as her body racked with sobs. Eventually she calmed down. ‘His brain threw me out,’ she whispered. ‘But before it did, I saw his reflection.’
I stroked her hair and continued to hold her close. I knew she had witnessed something horrific. A murder had been committed and we had been powerless to act.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my mobile. ‘What did he look like, Frankie?’
‘He had short hair, glasses…’
I felt a shortness of breath as I took out my phone and pulled up the sketch of Oriane’s attacker.
‘Did he look like this?’
She looked down and I felt her body stiffen. ‘That’s him,’ she said.
19
FIRST THERE WAS darkness…
Cade swished the curtains open with a dramatic flourish.
…then there was light.
The morning rays illuminated the pathologist who was bent over the girl. He turned and gave Cade a glare for disturbing his concentration.
Cade looked up and noticed me in the doorway. ‘Make sure you don’t step in the blood,’ he said unnecessarily.
I’d got the inevitable call on the way to the station. I’d been up all night waiting for it, feeling sick because I’d heard the murder taking place and had been unable to do anything about it.
Cade was holding a purse. ‘Name’s Amy Harper, thirty-five years old. Driving licence, credit cards and a hundred quid are all in here. Her mobile phone is in the kitchen.’
I was standing across from him, wearing the same white paper suit as everyone else in there. The dead girl lay on the tiled floor, face down in front of me, exactly as I had imagined. She was wearing an oversize shirt that covered the top of her bare legs.
