A Body in the Lakes

by Graham Smith

  Ethan had called, and while it had been good to hear his voice, he’d also had a rough day at work, so they hadn’t chatted long. She’d told him about having to chase down Gracie and the subsequent struggle, but had omitted the molestation from her story. She didn’t know Ethan well enough to predict how he’d react to such news and she didn’t want to give him reasons to worry about her.

  Her left arm still twinged when she moved it in certain ways, but it was bearable. The pain in her ear had dissipated after an hour or so, and the police doctor had glued her split eyebrow closed.

  There was also the business with Forster to resolve, not just the charity but the fact he’d wronged the Lakeland Ripper enough for the killer to try and frame him.

  Beth remembered Forster’s ex-colleague Claire and her coded message. The computer programmer had referred to herself as someone who was ‘paid to do a job’, and she’d described Beth as a ‘pretty young thing’ and a ‘potential conquest’. Beth’s current train of thought solved the riddle with ease. Claire had made it known how she felt about Forster; but had her advances been rebuffed, or worse, had he slept with her once and then returned her to the status of employee?

  Claire had also intimated to Beth that Forster would make a move on her as the mayor would see Beth as a challenge. When she thought back to Forster’s behaviour over dinner, Beth knew he’d held back the flirting, but instead given her a full enough blast of his charm and charisma for her to change her opinion of him.

  If nothing progressed with the case by noon tomorrow, she’d speak to Claire again, pull at that thread until it unravelled a little. Perhaps speaking to the woman at her home on a Saturday would be better; she might talk more freely away from work.

  Beth levered herself off the couch and made her way upstairs. Perhaps tomorrow would be an improvement on today. It couldn’t be much worse. Maybe that’s the way things would be: one good day, one bad one.

  Fifty-Four

  Willow cackled with laughter as she dumped the polystyrene tray into a bin. She’d forgotten how good chips with cheese and gravy tasted after a night on the town. With a cheery wave to her friends, and promises to repeat the night soon, she turned and looked for a taxi to take her home.

  There was only one in sight and it was loading up people, but she spoke to the driver and he promised to come back for her in ten minutes. Waiting wasn’t a problem: the night air was warm and there was that once-familiar teenage feeling that as long as she didn’t go home, the party was still happening.

  A guy was walking along the street with an open pizza box. He shut the lid and licked his fingers as he tossed the pizza box into the same bin Willow had used. Willow recognised him. He’d chatted her up about an hour ago; he’d even bought her a couple of shooters, something she hadn’t had in years. He was nice with a friendly face and decent manners. Not handsome in the traditional sense, but nor was he ugly. He was well fit though; his shirt was tailored to be snug against his body and she could image the six-pack beneath it.

  She gave him a little wave; he’d maybe keep her company until the taxi returned. ‘Hello again.’

  ‘Hi there, gorgeous.’

  ‘Give over.’ Willow gave a playful swipe with her hand. ‘You’re drunk if you think I’m gorgeous.’

  ‘Assh not dwunk.’ It was a mock slur that widened Willow’s smile. ‘Seriously, I’m not drunk, you are gorgeous; in fact, I’d go so far as to say you’re the best-looking woman I’ve seen all night.’

  ‘We’re in Maryport, that means you’ve probably only seen a couple of dozen women.’

  ‘It would apply if we were in Carlisle, or even London.’

  ‘You’re such a charmer.’

  The guy looked into her eyes. ‘I do my best when I meet someone as gorgeous as you—’

  Willow silenced him with a kiss that was returned with lust.

  Her hands found the small of his back and pulled him forward. His body was as hard as she’d imagined it would be.

  She knew it was against her principles to behave this way: she’d never had a one-night stand and had never envisaged herself having one, but ever since she’d caught her husband in the wrong bed, she’d fantasised about rebound sex.

  There was a narrow alleyway a few doors along the street. She knew it led towards a path that ran along the riverbank.

  Willow took the guy by the hand. ‘C’mon. This way.’

  They got to the riverbank and sat on a bench, Willow astride the guy so they could keep their mouths pressed together. For Willow it was the perfect rebound scenario, fast, anonymous sex with a stranger. Her estranged husband would never know, but she would and that’s all that mattered to her.

  The guy’s hands caressed her backside as her fingers grappled with the buttons of his shirt, but he was too rough for her liking. While tonight was about sating animal needs, rather than tender or gentle sex, she didn’t want to feel any pain. She moved a hand behind her back and squeezed the guy’s hand so his fingers couldn’t grip her backside as tight as they were.

  Willow broke their kiss. ‘Not so rough.’

  ‘Whatever you say.’

  When he pulled her dress down enough that he could put her breast to his mouth, Willow felt the first tinge of uncertainty.

  ‘Please. Not that hard.’

  ‘You want it, you teasing cow. Don’t think you’re changing your mind now.’

  ‘I am changing my mind. Please, stop.’

  ‘You can’t do this to me.’ The guy used the arm he had behind her back to pull her forward to his waiting mouth.

  ‘I think you’ll find the lady asked you to stop.’

  Willow jumped at the voice. She hadn’t noticed anyone coming along the path as she was so wrapped in the moment. As she climbed off the guy, she was covering herself with one arm while trying to pull her dress up with the other.

  Even as Willow grappled with her dress, she looked to see who her saviour was. His face was in half shadow, but she could see enough to recognise the man was one of her clients. A man she’d met while doling out financial advice.

  Willow watched as her supposed beau squared up to the client.

  ‘She’s with me. Now, fuck off, or else I’ll be forced to fuck you off myself.’

  The client’s arm flashed out and Willow’s erstwhile attacker went down in a heap.

  ‘Come on, Willow, isn’t it? I’ll take you home.’ The client offered her his arm. ‘If you turn around, I can do your zip up for you.’

  ‘Thank you, thank you so much.’ Willow turned around so the client could see what he was doing.

  Of all the people she’d thought might appear to rescue her from the supposed beau, Andrew Cooper was pretty much at the bottom of the list. But as much as she might dislike the man, she was grateful he was riding to her rescue. The way he was averting his gaze from her semi-exposed body compelled her to trust him. He might be a flirt, but right now, he was behaving with nothing but decency, and had just saved her from potentially being raped.

  ‘The zip’s bust. Here, have my coat.’

  As she walked to where Cooper had parked his car, Willow never questioned why he was miles away from home, walking along the riverbank so late at night, or why he was wearing a long coat when it was so warm.

  Fifty-Five

  Thompson was the only person in the office. He looked to Beth as if he’d had maybe two hours sleep in the last week. His wife’s deterioration was exacting a terrible price from him and, as much as she felt for the man, it was only a matter of time before his exhaustion caused him to make a serious mistake.

  ‘Where’s O’Dowd and Unthank?’

  Thompson lifted his hand from the pile of paperwork he was sorting through. ‘She’s upstairs speaking to the DCI, and he’s gone to the loo.’

  ‘Has anything broke with the case?’

  ‘Nothing. You’ll have to wait for O’Dowd.’ Thompson huffed out a long sigh. ‘Paul’s due in court on Monday. The Felcham case. His testimony is key an
d it’s come down from on high that he’s to spend the weekend swotting up all of his notes so the prosecutor can’t trip him up.’ Thompson flicked his eyes at Beth and then turned them to the far wall. ‘I have to go to the care home. My Julie has caught pneumonia, the doctor says she can’t fight it and that she’s only got a few days left.’

  Beth felt as though she’d been gut-punched by Thompson’s words. As disturbing as she found the news, it was utterly heart-wrenching to hear the pain in Thompson’s voice.

  The sergeant had his back to her which Beth was grateful for. She didn’t know what to do or say. No words or gestures could make things better for him, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to offer him her support.

  She took three steps across the office, laid a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. ‘I’m so sorry, Frank. Get yourself off home. We’ll cope here.’

  ‘I know you will.’ Thompson’s attempt to sniff developed into a snivel. ‘O’Dowd tried to chase me home as well. I know I should be with my girls, or at the care home.’ Thompson’s head dropped forward. ‘When I’m there it’s real. When I’m here…’ He paused to give a muffled sob. ‘Here, I can kid myself it isn’t.’

  Beth gave Thompson’s shoulder another squeeze. ‘It is real though, isn’t it?’

  ‘I know. It’s real, and I have to face up to it. Have to go and say goodbye to Julie. Have to be strong and look after my daughters.’

  ‘That’s not what I said.’

  ‘Not in so many words.’ Thompson turned, gave her a wan smile and a nod. His eyes filled with unshed tears and immeasurable pain. ‘You may have only intimated it, but you’re right.’ Thompson stood and made for the door. ‘Tell O’Dowd I’ve gone and that I’ll… I’ll—’

  ‘I’ll tell her.’ Beth felt she had to interrupt him. To prevent him from having to say he’d let O’Dowd know when his wife passed.

  Thompson left the office in the slow shuffle of someone who knew that what they were about to face might well break them.

  Beth sat at her desk to give him a chance to leave on his own terms. Her thoughts conflicted between the impossibility of the case and the terrible situation Thompson had to deal with.

  As there was nothing she could do for Thompson, Beth forced herself to concentrate on the case.

  The biggest issue they had was the way the team had been halved. As important as it may be to have the case Unthank was testifying about fresh in his mind, it was also vital they continue trying to catch the Lakeland Ripper and the person framing the mayor.

  If Unthank and Thompson were replaced, their replacements, however good they may be, would take at least half a day to catch up on the details of this case and that was time they didn’t have to lose.

  It was typical of the brass that they’d insist on the maximum effort to solve a case and then hamstring the investigating team. Beth knew she was being cynical, but it wouldn’t surprise her if they didn’t get replacements for Unthank and Thompson until Monday at the soonest. Every team in the county was stretched by the double whammies of their workload and the budgetary cuts imposed on them. When you factored in leave and stress-related sickness, it was nothing short of a miracle that so many crimes actually ended up with convictions.

  Unthank walked into the office. ‘What do you call a man in a pile of leaves?’

  ‘Russell.’ Beth had the answer in a flash. If Unthank was going to catch her out, he’d have to become a lot more obscure.

  Before O’Dowd returned from speaking to the DCI, Beth checked her emails in case anything had come in. There were a couple of missing persons’ reports that piqued her interest.

  The first was a fourteen-year-old girl who’d had a row with her parents about a party she’d wanted to go to, and had stormed out of the house last night when her parents had refused to let her attend. Beth figured the girl would have gone to the party and was now avoiding her parents so she didn’t have to deal with the fallout. She’d either turn up at a friend’s house or would go home with her tail between her legs.

  The second was more concerning. Willow Brown had been on a night out in Maryport and hadn’t come home. There wasn’t anything unusual in that for a women in her late twenties. She was a grown-up and could do as she wanted. Her parents had only called the police because Willow was due to join them for a day in the Lakes and a lunchtime meal to celebrate her mother’s birthday. Like the teenager’s parents, they’d tried her mobile on numerous occasions. Unlike the teenager’s phone, Willow’s had gone straight to voicemail, which indicated it was switched off.

  As probable as it was that Willow hadn’t returned because she’d met a guy, something about the situation made Beth think that Willow had acted out of character. The photo the parents had given to the police showed a good-looking woman with tumbling auburn hair. Unlike the sullen and pudgy teenager, Willow would be deemed attractive by most men. While it was a fact that the Lakeland Ripper wasn’t targeting a particular ‘type’ of woman, and his victims were getting younger, her instincts were telling her that his actions were fuelled by sexual desire, and of the two missing females, Willow was by far the more attractive of the two, which made Beth fear far more for Willow than the missing teen.

  Fifty-Six

  26 July

  Dear Diary

  I have done a terrible thing and I don’t know what compelled me to do it.

  You will of course remember that last night was the night when Derek threw his celebratory party.

  We left the hotel and hailed a cab. He invited me back to his for one last drink.

  Drunk as I was, I still knew he was trying to seduce me. I didn’t want him and I did want him.

  Instead of leaving I started to unbutton his shirt and then his hands were upon me. The sense of guilt and betrayal I felt when I made love to Derek sort of… heightened the experience though. I risked everything, and for a few earth-shattering seconds, when my insides exploded, it was worth it.

  I felt sick with guilt as I dressed and then left without saying goodbye. I still feel sick now.

  He knew how to charm me. And I let myself be charmed.

  When I look in the mirror, I no longer see a faithful wife.

  Howard must never find out. Learning I’ve cheated would kill him.

  I’ll be calling in sick on Monday. I’ll use the day to start looking for another job.

  Until tomorrow.

  Fifty-Seven

  Andrew Cooper levered himself up from the table, popped a painkiller into his mouth and washed it down with a glass of water.

  His nose still hurt from where Willow had butted him with her head. She’d complied with his instructions when he’d pressed the knife against her throat and told her to get into the rear compartment of his pickup, but when he’d been tying her to the bed she’d lashed out and tried to make a break for freedom. None of the others had shown such bravery. They’d all been craven in their cowardice.

  It had pained him to take a hacksaw to a shotgun, but lopping eighteen inches off the barrel’s length had made it even more menacing as well as much easier to hide under a coat. Each one had answered his call for help when he’d feigned looking for his two-year-old daughter. They’d all been stupid enough to follow him to his pickup so he could get his phone to show them a photo of his ‘daughter’. He’d opened the pickup door to get his phone, reached under his jacket and produced the shortened shotgun. After that it had been easy to get the women to comply. Terror has been his ally.

  He knew he’d been too cocky with Willow. Knew he should have been holding the shotgun instead of a knife when lashing her to the bed. He’d managed not to hit her back, but it had been a struggle. Willow had scratched at him, called him names and had even tried to bite him. The insults she hurled at him had stung him to the point where he’d felt the need to gag her.

  He understood her terror; after all, he’d seen it on every occasion he’d tied a woman to that bed.

  Their fear gave him a buzz like nothing he’d
ever experienced.

  Now that he had Willow to himself, he was looking forward to feeding off that fear, to drinking it in when he lay with her.

  He knew the feelings he got from his victims’ terror were rooted in a sense of control. He was used to being looked down upon, to being mocked and not taken seriously.

  When she’d visited him to talk about his investments, Willow had taken him seriously, but he’d known it was an act, that she was just doing her job. She’d been polite and had listened to him, but he knew that he was just another customer who needed to be dealt with.

  He was more than that now. He’d gone from genial customer to a dominant force.

  Willow was now his to do with as he pleased.

  He walked along the passage and took hold of the door handle to the bedroom where he’d imprisoned her. When he stepped into the room, the fear in her eyes filled him with anticipation of pleasures yet to come. He wasn’t going to take her yet. He needed to build up to the moment, prepare himself and, most of all, he had to make her fear build. The more terrified his victims were, the more pleasure he took from sating his urges.

  Willow writhed on the bed as he tore her clothes from her body. He could tell she was petrified.

  To increase her fear even further he placed a hand on her bare, trembling thigh and looked into her eyes.

  ‘I’ve a couple of jobs to do, but don’t worry, it won’t be long before I’m back.’

  Fifty-Eight

  Beth took a right off Curzon Street and wound her way through the housing estate until she found herself outside a semi-detached house. She’d run the visit to Maryport past O’Dowd and had got the DI’s agreement, if not full blessing. Tracking down Willow was a job she could do without, but she couldn’t stop herself from worrying that she had been taken by the Lakeland Ripper.