SECONDS TO DIE a totally gripping serial killer thriller with a twist (Detective Claudia Nunn Book 2)

by Rebecca Bradley

  ‘She was my whole life. She’s the first thing I think of the moment I wake. The last thing before I sleep. The house, it feels like it’s lost its soul. All the memories wrapped up in it haunt me. And if Tyler’s cellmate says he admitted to killing her, then it’s good enough for me. Though I knew it anyway. Having official closure means I can move on, allow my grief to let go of the obsession it had with Tyler.’ Another glug of beer.

  Claudia melted some unsalted butter in another pan.

  Dominic watched her work. ‘You’re quiet on the subject.’

  She stirred the butter down with a wooden spoon. ‘I don’t want to upset you.’ It was the last thing she wanted to do. He had been through enough.

  He smiled at her. ‘Look, I think tonight of all nights, while we wait for a crazed killer to make an attempt on your life, you get to say whatever you want, don’t you?’

  ‘But it’s in opposition to what you’ve just said.’ Tears filled her eyes.

  ‘Tell me, Claudia.’ Dominic put his drink down. The can made a quiet clink on the worktop. ‘This has affected both of us. It’s not just about me. Tell me what you’re thinking. Why isn’t it a good thing that Lawton said Tyler confessed?’

  CHAPTER 64

  Dominic watched his daughter carefully. His nerves stretched to their limit as he held himself together. Making it appear like he was calm and caring when all he wanted to do was scream at her to stop over-analysing everything and let things be. But he’d said one thing that was correct this evening. She had a crazed killer on her tail, and no matter how mad he was at her about this, she was still his daughter and there was no way in hell he was going to allow anyone to hurt her. His love for Claudia was real.

  She was just a bloody pain in the arse.

  ‘Tell me . . .’ He pushed again. He had to know exactly what she was thinking so he could try to change her mindset. He’d hoped his own speech about believing the confession and it helping with closure would ease her in the right direction, but she still seemed to be balancing on the edge. He needed to do something about it.

  Claudia tipped the pancetta into the melted butter and threw the empty pan into the sink with a sizzle. ‘It just doesn’t add up.’

  Dominic didn’t say a word. He waited for her to elaborate.

  She gently stirred the pan of butter and pancetta, picking out the garlic clove and throwing it in the bin. ‘You know I spoke with Tyler.’

  Dominic’s stomach clenched. Of course he was aware of this, but it still made him react bodily.

  ‘You know he said he didn’t kill her.’

  ‘And because he said that to you, you can’t believe he would say something different to his cellmate?’

  Claudia huffed heavily. ‘It’s not that.’

  ‘What is it then?’ He tried to keep his voice on an even keel. He didn’t want to aggravate her. Especially not tonight, when her nerves must be shattered as it was. But he needed to know what her thought process was in relation to Samuel Tyler.

  ‘Part of it’s because of the conversation he had with me.’

  He couldn’t help but sigh, and Claudia wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Go on.’ He needed to know.

  ‘The reason he gave for his killing spree . . . It made sense.’

  This was something Dominic hadn’t considered when laying the groundwork for putting the blame for Ruth’s murder at Tyler’s door. The reason he had murdered the women. There wasn’t a lot he could do about that.

  ‘I told you how he said it was because they had children and they were dating. You’ve seen the scar on his hand?’ She was getting animated.

  Dominic nodded. He could do little else. He’d heard the story of how Tyler had obtained his scar from the man himself before they knew he was the Strangler, but he’d listen to Claudia if she needed to tell it.

  ‘His mum left him home alone to go on a date. She hadn’t fed him, and he was hungry. He tried to feed himself. Bacon sandwiches, of all things. In a frying pan. He’d seen his mum do it before and copied what she did. But he had an accident and spilt the pan of fat all over himself. Now he’s physically scarred and blames his mum. He doesn’t believe women should go out and date if they have children at home. Ruth didn’t have any children.’

  Dominic, though aware of this story, was prepared. ‘But she was an undercover cop and was trying to put him in prison for the murders he’d already committed. You don’t think there’s the slightest possibility he killed her to stop her in her tracks? He’s vicious and vindictive. And in killing her to take her out of his way, what better way than to cover it up and make it look like one of his usual murders?’

  Claudia frowned and tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pan, resting it on the handle.

  Dominic watched his daughter. Maybe she’d already considered this, maybe she hadn’t. There was no way to know unless she said more. But it felt like he’d found a hole in her thought processes and he had to keep needling at it. He couldn’t allow her to find Tyler not guilty in her own mind. That possibility terrified him. His neck was on the line.

  She drained the water from the spaghetti, leaving a little in a bowl at the side, and tipped it into the pan she had been simmering on a low heat and mixed it all together. ‘There’s also the issue with the lipstick.’

  His heart raced. He couldn’t take this strain. He was sure he’d done everything right. ‘What about the lipstick?’

  ‘There was a lipstick left in the place Ruth was abducted, as well as the location her body was found. Don’t you find this unusual? With the other women, there was only a lipstick found at the site of the body dump. Not where they were abducted from.’

  ‘But we don’t know where they were all abducted from,’ he countered. Desperation getting to him as she pushed him with valid points.

  ‘But some we do. You ran the case, Dad. You know this. Doesn’t it look like whoever took Ruth left the lipstick to make it appear like the Strangler had her?’

  How could he answer her? It was exactly what had happened. But he couldn’t admit to it. He’d be admitting to his own guilt. ‘I think you’re seeing things you want to see because you’re scared of letting go.’

  She paused, mixing the cheese and eggs, her hand still in mid-air. ‘I don’t want to fight you on this,’ she said. ‘This was your case, and she was your wife, but it really doesn’t sit right with me. You’re really telling me you see nothing wrong with it at all?’ Her face was a mask of confusion.

  Dominic didn’t know who was more stressed, her or him. He could make her back down, she was so confused. But it would still be bubbling in the back of her mind that it didn’t add up. He could see it in her eyes. The place he’d always been able to read her.

  As a child, all he’d had to do was look in those beautiful wide eyes of hers and the game would be up. If she was trying to deceive him, she’d give herself away with the anxiety popping in her eyes. If she was sad but not wanting to worry her parents, her eyes would flood with the hidden emotion. And if she was happy, her eyes sparkled with life.

  He’d never told her. It had been his secret skill. And he used it now. Her eyes were telling him she wasn’t settled. This was going to stay with her. She might turn around and tell him she’d go with whatever he decided in the end, because she cared for him and it was, after all, his wife who had been murdered. She might even go along with it for a while. Do nothing. Let it slide. Listen to her dad. But eventually . . . eventually it would burrow under her skin so deep she would have no choice but to listen to that niggle, that voice that was telling her something wasn’t right, and it would all come rushing out. And who the hell knew what kind of mess would come out with it.

  There was no way to resolve the issue with her. No amount of talking to her was going to settle her mind and in turn settle his mind.

  She finished the eggs and cheese as she waited for him to respond, then very gently mixed them in to the spaghetti mixture,
turning the spaghetti over so it was fully coated. It was here she reached for the small bowl she’d put to the side of the pasta water and tipped a little into the pan to create a sauce, and with a fork, lifted the spaghetti through the mixture.

  Dominic’s mind relayed through his options as she worked, but he was coming up blank.

  ‘I don’t know what to say, sweetheart. I don’t have all the answers. I just want to move on and I believe Lawton when he says Tyler admitted it to him. What reason does he have to lie?’ There was no reason for Claudia to request to check Lawton’s visitor’s log. Lawton had done nothing wrong. He was not under investigation. When he’d paid him a visit, he’d hoped it would go a lot smoother than this. But now he was on the back foot. He would have to deal with any problems as and when they arose. He was hoping she was going to come through for him. Be the thoughtful daughter and let it go. Even if it was just to give her dad some peace for now, no matter what her opinion.

  ‘I don’t suppose he has a reason.’ She pulled a couple of plates down from the cupboard. ‘It just didn’t feel right.’ She looked at him. ‘But if you’re sure you’re happy with this?’

  He nodded again.

  ‘And you were the investigating officer on the Strangler case and you’re Ruth’s husband. I can’t ask for more than that, can I?’

  No, she bloody well couldn’t. Thank God for that. He greedily supped from his beer. Not much was left.

  ‘We’re taking it at face value then?’ He checked.

  Using a pair of cooking tongs, Claudia piled steaming carbonara onto the two plates she’d placed on the side and sprinkled the leftover grated cheese on top. ‘We’re taking it at face value.’ She handed him a plate, which he took, and they carried them to the table.

  ‘This looks delicious. Thank you.’

  Sitting down with the food together should have been a pleasant evening, but Dominic was tense. His shoulders tight and bunched hard under his neck. A band of pressure around his head and over his eyebrows. He dug into them with the pad of his thumb.

  ‘What is it, Dad?’

  How could he say it was nothing? She had a crazed killer after her. But not just that, she also had his future life balanced in her hands. She just didn’t realise it. He wondered what she’d do if she knew. Would she save him or would she throw him to the wolves?

  CHAPTER 65

  Before eating, Claudia paused. ‘Do you think I should take some out to the guys in the car outside?’

  Dominic looked at his plate. ‘No, love. They’re here to guard you, not tuck into a full dinner. If it would make you happier, why don’t you take them a coffee?’

  He was right. A drink was the way to go. ‘I have a couple of takeout-type beakers in the cupboard. I’ll make them some drinks and take them out.’

  ‘Finish your meal first?’

  Her anxiety over the whole night was obviously getting the better of her. She was twitchy, and she needed to wind it down. ‘Of course.’ She took a deep breath in and tried to steady herself.

  ‘It’s gorgeous,’ Dominic said, tucking into his spaghetti. ‘It really is. Get some down you. You need your strength for the days ahead. If you have some left you can take it to work tomorrow.’

  He talked sense. Claudia picked up her fork and dove into the pasta dish. It was indeed delicious. She’d not done a bad job with it, if she said so herself.

  As they ate, the conversation was fairly subdued. They’d said all they wanted to say about Lawton and Tyler. She’d backed down to appease her father. Though she was grieving for Ruth this was his loss, and if he thought Lawton was telling the truth and it was what he needed to move on then who was she to upend it all for him?

  They ate quietly but companionably. He was here because he loved her and wanted her to be safe. No matter how much she believed she could take care of herself, he was her father and considered it his job to protect her. She accepted that. After all, there was nothing she could do to stop him. It would be easier to stop the killer.

  When they had finished eating Dominic stacked the plates and pans in the dishwasher and Claudia made two mugs of coffee with milk, one with sugar and one without. They could fight over which one they preferred between them.

  With takeaway mugs in hand, Claudia told her father she was stepping outside to give the drinks to the officers watching the house. He agreed —from safety to safety and back to safety again.

  Claudia opened the door and headed out. It surprised her to see it was overcast. The sun had been beating down on them for so long she had forgotten the weather could change. A break in the heat would be nice. Some air to circulate would do everyone good. It was funny, but the British never coped well with long spells of extreme weather of any kind. Changeable weather was what they were used to.

  She saw the two cops sitting in their car across the road and made her way over. The air was chill. She shivered, wishing she’d thought to wrap a cardigan around herself. But the days had been so warm it hadn’t been a consideration for a while. But it didn’t matter, she wouldn’t be out here long.

  It was still light, the two guys in the car were facing forward, and they hadn’t noticed her heading towards them.

  So much for watching out for her. What if someone was walking towards her home while she was inside? She was having second thoughts about bringing the drinks out to them if they couldn’t do their jobs properly.

  The road was quiet. Standing only a couple of feet away she realised something was wrong. The cop nearest to her had his neck at an awkward angle. And he still hadn’t moved.

  Claudia took a tentative steps towards them. Up close she peered in through the side window.

  Everything was wrong.

  And she was in mortal danger.

  CHAPTER 66

  From his vantage point parked a little further down the street, the Artist watched Detective Inspector Claudia Nunn’s reaction to the two disabled cops in the car.

  He had to admit it thrilled him to see the colour drain from her face before she yanked open the door to assess if they were injured or dead.

  That her first thought was to her fellow officers and not getting herself safe was admirable.

  It would, however, be her downfall.

  He hadn’t expected her to come out here like this. He’d had every intention of going into the house and grabbing her from in there when it got dark. Of course, he’d have to deal with the other cop in there first and the fight DI Nunn would undoubtedly put up, but he’d got this far, he would manage.

  Putting the two uniform cops down had been easy. Like taking candy from a baby, as they say.

  All he’d had to do was put on slippers and a dressing gown and walk down the street with two mugs of tea. He’d prepared for this, bringing the mugs from home along with a drink in a thermos flask, with an added ingredient that would knock the cops out cold in minutes.

  He’d approached the car all smiles, telling the officers he was a neighbour and had seen them sitting there for a while and did they want a cuppa. They had looked him up and down in his slippers and dressing gown and greedily taken the hot drink off him.

  He’d walked back down the road and left the tea to do its thing.

  Now DI Nunn was on the street and he had to make a decision and act fast. If she turned away and went in the house, he would have to handle both her and the other cop. If he moved now, he could potentially just grab her.

  He yanked the dressing gown from the back seat and struggled to pull it on, sitting in the front, steering wheel in his way. But he wheedled himself in and fasten the belt around his waist, hiding the clothes he was wearing below. His feet were still in the slippers.

  She was opening the door, leaning in, checking the first cop for a pulse. He didn’t have long before she’d go rushing into the house to call an ambulance and backup to their location. Unless she had a mobile phone secreted on her person. He couldn’t see one, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have one.

  He jumped out
the car and practically ran down the street, slowing as he reached her. His nerves, as they always did at this point, at the point of snatching his subjects, were screaming at him. He was jittery and wanted nothing more than to walk away and listen to some music while curled up on the sofa. But that was his nerves talking. He had to ignore them and do this. It was always worth it afterwards. The glow of the installation. The knowledge that everyone was talking about him and his exhibit over their breakfast and dinner was enough to keep him moving forward. It was what he had dreamed of.

  ‘Claudia,’ he panted. ‘Is everything alright?’ She flinched as he approached. Her arms flew up in a defensive stance, ready to fight off an attacker, fear and anger flashing across her face.

  He tried to keep his breathing even and calm. If he played this right, it would all go to plan.

  ‘Thomas from down the road.’ He stopped moving towards her, pretending he was scared of her sudden moves, and smiled. It was rare people knew everyone on their street. No one knew their neighbours anymore.

  She looked at him in his slippers and dressing gown and frowned.

  He stepped even closer.

  The slippers and dressing gown did their thing, and she turned away, distracted by her two fallen colleagues in the car. It gave him time to make it all the way to her side without her becoming suspicious of him.

  Then she turned to him, surprise in her eyes that he was so close, but she started to speak anyway. ‘Have you seen anyone—’

  He didn’t have time to waste. He removed his hand from his pocket and inserted the needle into her arm. Shock skimmed across her face, and a hand came up in an attempt to brush him off, but it soon fell away as her body became soft and malleable.

  The Artist wrapped her closest arm around his neck, pushed the door to the police car closed and part walked, part hauled the detective inspector towards his own car. Her feet were now asleep, making it difficult to drag her along the asphalt, her trainers grazing the ground as he moved her forward.

  He was taking a big risk in daylight, but if anyone looked outside they would simply see two people walking towards a car. One in a dressing gown and the other seemingly not very well. Maybe they were on the way to the hospital. It wouldn’t draw too much attention, anyway.