Detective Ruby Baker series Box Set

by Daisy White

  “I know. Let’s close up early, send all these lovely people out searching and back home, so they can also ring everyone they know. You can go up and get changed into something warm, and man the phone down here. We won’t sleep, we’ll keep looking, and you can be the command post. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds good.”

  I pick up today’s paper from the edge of the desk, studying the headlines. Another piece on Mary. The boys have done well.

  KILLING STONE MURDERER KEY SUSPECT IN ABDUCTION CASE

  Mary Evans, 23, has been missing for 48 hours, and police say they are increasingly concerned for her welfare. Miss Evans works at popular hairdressing salon Johnnie’s on Ship Street, and clients have banded together to help find their favourite stylist.

  Links have been made to the three murder cases, and police have sealed off the area around Glebe House as a precaution. All three previous victims were found next to the Killing Stone, but police add they have no reason to assume that any harm has come to Miss Evans.

  A close friend, Ruby Baker, says, “All we want is Mary home safely. Her baby is due and we need to look after both of them. I want to ask whoever has taken Mary to consider the implications of harming her or her child. I would like to thank the people of Brighton for helping in the search for my best friend.”

  If anyone has any information, please call Brighton Police Station.

  * * *

  Later, as the pink clock on the wall shows half past ten, I’m hunched in a blanket next to the phone, my tired brain whirring. Every so often a call comes through — a search party checking in; the police finally calling back and reassuring me that Kenny did get the message through and they are hunting for Ted; James telling me Kenny is fine, and that he broke an ankle jumping out of the window but is now driving the nurses mad asking for cigarettes; the police again telling me they went to interview Maddie and her father hasn’t seen her all day . . .

  I make notes on my scraps of paper, frowning at the map I’ve transferred to one of the walls in the salon. It’s pinned up between two golden cherubs, and covered in scrawled writing. Next to it hangs a scale street map of Brighton, which I have divided into squares. When each square has been searched, and the group rings in, I give it a red tick, and they move on to the next one on the grid.

  “Ruby!”

  I pull my red cardigan tighter around my body, shivering, even though I just heard a rumble of thunder out over the sea. “Hi, Pearl. Oh God, I’ve been trying to get you all afternoon.”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart, James has updated me, and I’ve popped down to Kenny’s ward. He’s doing fine, and driving all the nurses mad. One thing that does worry me is that I haven’t heard from Victoria. Johnnie said they never turned up at the salon?”

  “No. They were going for a picnic, and then coming to join Ted’s search party. Oh!”

  “I know. What if they found something? She and Leon would be sitting ducks to a killer. And if it is Ted, he knows all the places we like to go. Anyway, I made a list of places — not party places — but they always went off on long walks across the Downs. Oh God.” She pauses and gives a big sniff, clearing her throat. “Shall I read them out and see if anything tallies with your information.”

  “Yes please.” I light another cigarette and turn to the map.

  “Right, here goes. Ashford Woods, Glebe House (obviously), a picnic place off Dyke Hill Road next to a burial mound — I remember her saying that one because it struck me as a grim place for a kiss—”

  Something clicks in my exhausted fuzzy brain. “Wait, the burial mound is a barrow, isn’t it? That’s what they call them. Leon mentioned it when he took me up to see Maddie. But there wouldn’t be anywhere to hide on top of the Downs.”

  “Tell the police. They can go straight there and search, just in case. It is just possible Vic and Leon found Mary in a barn or something, and if Ted saw them looking, or was even there himself—”

  “Okay, ring me if you think of anything else and—” I don’t finish my sentence as a noise behind makes me turn. Then pain explodes at the base of my skull, blocking out the light. I’m vaguely aware of hitting the floor, hard, before I succumb to the blackness.

  * * *

  I blink hard, but even with my eyes open the room is shadowy, lit by just one bulb. Strange. My head throbs, and when I roll over and stretch my hand out to investigate, my groping fingers meet with hot sticky wetness. My stepdad must have really whacked me this time.

  “You can’t think that nobody will look in the cellar of the salon.”

  Mary’s voice. It can’t be. “But—”

  “Oh good, you’re back with us. I was afraid I hit you a little too hard, but you really couldn’t be allowed to make that next call.” Leon beams at me, tapping his knife on one trouser leg. His chocolate-brown eyes are thoughtful. “I would have hated to have lost you. The Ancients were most specific about what needs to happen tonight. They will punish me most severely if I fail.”

  As if my stepdad wasn’t bad enough, I’ve regained consciousness next to a madman. I stare woozily around the little room, “Where are we?” Is that Victoria in the corner? My vision mists again and I shake my head crossly, which makes my brain rattle.

  “This is your cellar. Most of the cellars along this road have interconnecting tunnels. I believe originally it was to do with the smuggling trade. And who would have thought that all sorts of things happen at night right under your building?” Leon is smiling again, with that vague expression that is totally at odds with hard eyes. He glances at his watch. “We have to go now.”

  “The Ancients?” Victoria stares at her boyfriend, with a kind of horrified fascination. “Who are they?” I notice a line of red on her creamy neck, and a dark bruise across her right cheekbone, but she seems to be ignoring the injuries.

  I blink slowly around the dark little room, taking in the brick steps, the doorway and hatch, and Mary and Victoria sitting hand-in-hand in a dirty corner. I can’t stop myself crying out with relief. Mary’s face is filthy, her cheeks striped with tear tracks. But she seems unharmed, and is resting her other hand on her swollen bump. I shut my eyes for a minute. She’s alive, she is alive!

  “I’m so glad you asked.” Leon hauls a long length of brown tarp from the other side of the room. “Unfortunately I don’t have the time to do them justice now, but the Ancients are an all-seeing, all-knowing force. They existed in this area, and many other sites, long before history even began to be recorded. Now we have come so far from our roots, we think that covering the land of the Ancients in little brick houses is an acceptable practice.”

  Leon. I was right with my first guess. It seems typical that out of the two red-circled names on my wall of paper, I ultimately picked the wrong one. “Kenny knows it was you,” I lie. I’m watching Mary’s awkward shifting movements anxiously. She’s now sitting with her knees bent under her, cradling her bump, but she looks as though she’s biting her lip. “He guessed it was you and this morning he told the police so they’re looking for you . . .” My voice trails away. It’s worth a shot.

  “Really? Last time I spoke to him he seemed at a bit of a loss. Honestly, those two flakes Kenny and James are useless at their job. They are so desperate for a story that they’ll believe anything. But I admit Kenny did seem to be on a mission to uncover all sorts of things. Then, when I spoke to him, he seemed convinced that Ted was his man. I may have bumped into Ted and mentioned he was now a prime suspect. Maybe that’s why he started the fire at Kenny’s house? He was pretty upset that all his friends believed he was a murderer.”

  “When was this? What are you talking about Leon?” Victoria asks in horror, her face contorted with fear, “Is Kenny okay, Ruby?”

  I shoot a glance at Leon, who is still smiling at all three of us. “He’s fine. James called from the hospital earlier. Leon, why don’t you let Mary and Victoria go? They haven’t done anything wrong, and the police will soon find out it wasn’t Ted. Listen to
the phone ringing in the salon. Johnnie, Pearl, everyone, will be calling me, and when I don’t answer the phone they’ll come down here to find out why.”

  “The Ancients sent me down here to complete a task. As I said, if I fail they will punish me.” Leon repeats, giving the tarp a little shove with his foot so it sits at the foot of a flight of steps. “There, all ready. We must be quick. You’re right, you do have far too many well-meaning friends.”

  “Where are we going?” Victoria asks sharply, eyeing the tarp.

  “Again, another good question.” Leon nods approvingly at her. “I knew there were lots of reasons you were my girlfriend, but I just lost sight of one or two of them tonight. Now, we aren’t going anywhere. Ruby and I are going to pop up to the Witch Stone. Please note its correct name should be used at all times. The papers give themselves far too much credit for invention, and since the actual killing does not take place on the stone itself—”

  “We . . .” Words fail me and I struggle into a sitting position. The other two girls are watching me anxiously, and I try to smile reassuringly. “You can’t do that—” I’m about to tell him the police will be up there but bite my words off mid-sentence.

  “Ruby, I know you may be reluctant to accompany me on your own, so I’ve brought a little friend.” He leans down and peels back the top end of the tarp, “This is Maddie. I think you’ve already met her, Ruby? I really thought you had guessed the truth when I gave you a lift home, but you didn’t, did you? So many silly girls. Anyway, she’s coming with us to the Witch Stone.”

  The cellar is spinning again, and I clench my fingers on the rough brick floor.

  A white face with long hair neatly tied behind her, glazed expression and the blood . . . so much blood spattering her body and the tarp. It’s Linda all over again, and I hear Mary and Victoria make hushed exclamations of horror. The dead girl is dressed for a night out, with a short green shift dress, pearl earrings, and an armful of beaded bracelets. Her long legs are also bloodstained, but the scratches suggest brambles or wire rather than a knife. The feet are bare, and the painted toenails are dirty.

  “She tried to run away, the silly girl.” Leon shakes his head. “I always try to kill them quickly so nobody gets hurt. We could learn so much from the sacrifices of the Ancients, you know. I did think she was different, but she simply couldn’t accept her destiny in the end. You’ve nearly ruined everything between you.”

  “What do you mean nobody gets hurt? She’s dead,” I point out, frantically trying to marshal my thoughts. My head is still throbbing, and it’s so cold down here I’m shivering and my fingers are turning numb.

  “I realise that,” Leon says coldly, shaking his head at me like a stern lecturer admonishing a stupid student.

  “What do you mean? Why did you tell us about the Ridgeway’s dates, when it was you all along? Why did you give the map to the police?” I ask him, thinking the longer I can keep him here the more chance someone will come along and find us. The phone in the salon is ringing every few minutes now. It won’t be too long. Surely.

  Leon shakes his head, and I notice he is taking care to keep his knife in one hand all the time. Are Victoria’s injuries a result of an earlier attempt to escape?

  “You needed to realise why the girls were sacrificed or there really is no point. It has been very difficult to arrange this last ceremony . . . Mary should have had her baby by now!” He snaps suddenly, turning on her and pointing the weapon at her heart. She cringes away. I struggle up, lurching for the knife, but I’m too weak and Leon brushes me away. As quickly as it started, his anger is over, and he resumes his lecturing tone. It could be a dream, this educated man with a flash of insanity that vanishes into the darkness in seconds.

  “As the sun rises on a new day, a special day, the Ancients have asked for three sacrifices to mark the three new housing developments that will be completed today.”

  “Three?”

  “Three. All built on precious historical sites on our beautiful South Downs, but only one here in Brighton. Therefore the Ancients requested one dead, one alive and one newborn. But now it’s ruined. Mary hasn’t had the baby. Stupid girl!”

  A wave of sickness leaves me dizzy. Mary sobs quietly into her dirty cardigan sleeve, and Victoria just stares at her boyfriend as if he’s turned into some kind of monster.

  “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt a bit. The Ancients knew that when blood was required you just cut quickly straight across the artery.” He demonstrates, swinging the knife in a wide arc. We all gasp, shrinking back against the walls.

  The dead girl seems to be staring right at me, and she’s between us and the cellar steps. In my terror her face becomes Linda’s and then my mum’s. I blink hard and force myself back to sanity.

  As I get slowly to my feet I hear the wail of a police siren, and my heart lifts. But Leon is having none of it. Despite the cool, controlled tones, his breathing is fast and his face glistens with sweat.

  “Move it. Pick up Maddie and bring her with us.” Keeping the knife near to my chest, he kicks the tarp and the corner rolls neatly over the girl’s face.

  “What?”

  “Either you pick up the tarp, or I just kill you all now. This way, as I said, we leave destiny to the Ancients.” Leon nods briskly, as if agreeing with himself, blank eyes resting on my face. “Do it.”

  The siren gets louder, and I hear cars screech to a stop outside the salon.

  Mary moans suddenly, and as I turn to look at her, water trickles down towards her feet. In that split second I’m convinced she’s faking it and giving Victoria and me a chance to take down the killer or escape. Then reality asserts itself. You can’t fake that. She’s actually on the brink of giving birth.

  “Her waters have broken,” I tell Leon. I can feel my heart racing and fear gripping my body. After everything we’ve been through to get this far, there is no way one man is going to take it all away from us. “You have to let her go! It’s over and the police are here! Leon!”

  I yell at him, furious and oblivious as the knife swings round and meets my chest. I can hear the sharp sound of fabric tearing and I look down to see I have a gash in my dress from my heart to my waist. That could so easily have been my skin. Blood on my body, blood on my hands.

  I glance behind me, and see Victoria crouching next to Mary, instantly smooth and professional, as though she delivers babies every day in a dirty cellar, watched by a murderer and a corpse. “Have you been having pains long?” she asks, glancing at her watch.

  Mary nods, relaxing, then screwing up her face as another spasm shakes her body. “It hurts, oh bloody hell it hurts! Let us go, Leon —please let us go. Help!”

  She moans again. Victoria tears off her cardigan and her white blouse and tells the other girl to breathe slowly and deeply.

  Leon rests the knife on the back of my neck. “Pick up the rope on the tarp. Start pulling or you all die right now. Victoria, how long until the baby is born?”

  She doesn’t even hesitate. “At least three hours, maybe longer. She probably isn’t even dilated yet. Look for yourself if you don’t believe me!”

  Voices are shouting at the front door, and a great crashing indicates they are trying to break the door down. Just a bit longer. Just a bit.

  But Leon is frantic. His patronising manner has vanished. It’s like being with a trapped fox. “Faster, Ruby!”

  I do as I’m instructed, feeling the weight of the body, tensing my burning muscles, and hauling with gritted teeth. I take eight long steps up, with the cold blade on my neck, and I hear someone calling my name. James? Johnnie too, by the sound of it. The point of the knife slips a little. There’s a sharp sting of pain, followed by a wet feeling across my neck.

  Behind me I can hear the girls murmuring to each other. Victoria’s saying something about biting down on the sleeve of her blouse. This is not the way we planned the birth of Mary’s baby.

  “Move! Leave the tarp, just move or I will go back and kill the
m both right now!” Leon slides to knife around to my throat for a second, and as I freeze with fear, he gives a little nod. Then he reverses the blade and before I can duck, cracks it down behind my ear. For the second time, I swim down into the thick blackness.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  I’m not out for long this time either, but when I struggle back to consciousness, we’re in the little white car going at speed up a hill. Houses and a park flash past. The roads are empty and the night is cloudy. Stray drops of rain dance down the windscreen, and the tarmac starts glistening in the yellow beam of the headlights.

  We’re heading away from the sea, and there is no sign of rescue. I stay slumped in the passenger seat, twisting my wrist to catch a glimpse at my watch. It is already three o’clock. Not long before the sun comes up. Not long before Mary’s baby is born. Before she’s safe, and Victoria is safe. Whatever happens, Mary is safe. I repeat this like a prayer and then sit up properly, turning to face my enemy.

  The car pulls up another hill, turning right towards the road that leads through Green Ridges, and onwards to Glebe House and the Killing Stone. Leon was wrong. The Killing Stone is a better name now that it has been stained with the blood of three girls. But not mine. Not yet. I’m surprised he hasn’t anticipated the police presence at Glebe House.

  I inch my hand towards the car door handle.

  Poor mixed-up Maddie is dead because of what? She didn’t go along with his plans?

  My breathing quickens and I hook my fingers into the handle and pull. Nothing. I yank the cold metal harder, but the door is locked.

  The new houses are dark oblongs on the hill. He’s going to drive right into the police and it will soon be over. My heart beats suffocatingly fast as we approach the entrance — and drive right past.

  “What are you doing? Where are we going?” I have seriously underestimated this man. This scholarly-looking man who has killed at least six girls, and kidnapped two more. Even now he is humming another Beatles tune as he drives. He wasn’t ever going to run into a police cordon. And he’s never going to let me live, is he?