Detective Ruby Baker series Box Set

by Daisy White

  I try the car door handle again, and this time he sees and laughs. “If you get out at this speed, Ruby, you’re dead anyway. I’d rather have my throat cut, personally.” He speaks casually, gently, and if you didn’t hear the actual words, you might have thought we were discussing menu options.

  “I’d rather not die at all,” I retort, feeling the fire return to my belly. I’ve survived lots of things, and my trump card is that Leon has no idea he is sitting next to a murderer. There is no reason I can’t kill him too if I have to. They say it’s easier the second time.

  Leon laughs, accelerating again, so the trees that line the road become a blur. “You didn’t think I was going to risk Glebe House again? I’ve been up and seen it. Even spoken to Inspector Hammond. All this talk about a killer? It’s simply that the Ancients demand obedience, and if they order blood to be shed, then so be it.”

  I wriggle the door handle again, digging my nails into the metal for more grip, but it stays firmly shut. “Do you speak to the Ancients?”

  “Of course! They come to me in dreams. Sometimes they reward me with a good night’s sleep, but their punishments — well, you can see their punishments, Ruby.” He raises his left arm. The sleeve has pushed up above his elbow, revealing a sickening line of burn marks and scars.

  “But you must have done that yourself!” I say in horror before I can stop myself.

  He only laughs. “Do you feel sorry for me? Victoria certainly did. Such a shame it didn’t work out. Victoria and I are suited in so many ways, but I did have an inkling it wouldn’t last quite early on. Do you remember when we had that first picnic by the Witch Stone? She said she would like to live in one of the new houses, or something to that effect. The Ancients told me to kill her instead of Linda, you know, but . . .” He looks less confident for a moment. “I couldn’t do it and they were very angry. Do you know something, Ruby?”

  Mesmerised by his conversational tone, I shake my head, as we turn along the road that leads across the Downs, past the turning to Dyke Hill Road. I think of number four Blakes Farm Cottages, where Maddie’s dad must be waiting for his daughter to return home. I need to get away from this man. The road drops steeply away on our right hand side, becoming chalky cliffs as we climb higher.

  Leon continues. “I think, Ruby, that I fell a little bit in love with Victoria.”

  Even in my cold terror, I’m sure Victoria will be thrilled when I tell her that her nutcase boyfriend did love her really. Then the little trickle of hysterical amusement dries. His warped idea of falling in love probably saved her life. And lost me mine. I won’t be telling her anything.

  “We’re going to the very top now. You will have the honour of being laid to rest on the barrow. We’ll be there in a minute. You’re lucky that the Ancients have requested fresh blood from a new kill. It’s pretty special, and I haven’t done it for a while.”

  I need to do something before I just vomit all over him. The car is bare of weapons, the door handle useless, and clearly nobody coming to save me. Correction, nobody is going to save me but myself. I fling myself past the knife and grip the steering-wheel, swinging it to the right as hard as I can.

  The car jolts. Tyres slide on the stones at the edge of the road. The knife burns into my shoulder as a blow hits home, but I hang on, fighting him all the way. He’s yelling back at me, but I can’t hear what he says. Going at that speed, it isn’t long before the car goes straight off the cliff, and after a terrifying moment when it seems to hang in mid-air, crashes downwards in a series of jarring tumbles.

  * * *

  It’s very dark and quiet when the banging and crashing finally stops. The stench of petrol startles me back into alertness, cutting through the fog. I wince as I move my shoulder and lick cut lips. My forehead is sticky with blood. The windscreen is smashed, and the steady trickle of rain pools on the dashboard, dripping onto the seat.

  Thunder rumbles again out across the sea, and the thick darkness is blurred by heavy storm clouds on the top of the Downs. Glass crunches as I inch my feet away from the floor, and pain slashes through my shoulder. The whole of the right side of the car is crunched inwards like a tin can, but although the car tilts dangerously into the darkness, I’m still sitting half upright. I blink to my right, watching as trees wave gently in the breeze above and below.

  What’s below us? I make out the bottom of the cliff through the shadows, many feet down in the scrub. We’ve come to rest on a kind of plateau, nesting like a huge malfunctioned mechanical bird on a copse of trees. It’s hard to fight the darkness that threatens to close down my consciousness. I fix on one thing. Has he been thrown clear of the crash? Is he dead? Please God let him be dead. The driver’s seat is empty. I swivel around to see if his body has been thrown clear somewhere.

  “Hello, Ruby, I was wondering when you were going to wake up. It’s becoming a habit, this nodding off at inappropriate times, isn’t it?”

  The knife is back at my neck, and I’m back in the nightmare. I put a futile hand up to wipe my face clean of rain and blood.

  “That was a silly thing to do. But you can never deny your destiny. The Ancients have decided you will die on the Downs, and you can try to avoid it all you want, but in the end fate will take its course.” His eerie calm is somehow more terrifying than his rage. “Look at me.”

  I turn slowly in my seat to face him. He’s crouched outside the remains of my door, balanced on the scrub and rocks. Why isn’t he more injured? Or even dead? The clouds flitting across the hot stormy sky mean I only get glimpses of his blood-smeared face, but he seems to be able to move freely, and I suppose if he was thrown clear that would explain why he’s in a better state than I am. So no incapacitating injuries for me to take advantage of, whereas I’ve got a knife wound in my shoulder and another headache. What are the chances? I almost find myself wondering if he does have some kind of diabolical force on his side.

  I remember Victoria saying, “Actually it is one thing I don’t like about him. He takes too many. Party pills are fine, but he uses them almost every day.” Maybe not some kind of divine force, then, but possibly a pharmaceutical one. Great. I wonder what he’s taking. The rain starts to fall harder, a steady drumbeat on the car and a soothing river on my cut and battered body. It washes away the last of my dizziness. Time is running out.

  “Come on, Ruby. Look, the barrow is just up there. So really if you were going to do something stupid like crash my car, you couldn’t have done it in a better place. We’ll walk to the top. Move it.”

  I stare at the winding animal paths up through the undergrowth to the road, and then at the short but steep climb to the top of the Downs on the other side. “I can’t walk. I think my ankle is broken.”

  He tuts, as if I were a reluctant child or mutinous student. “But you must get up there. I think you’ll find if it’s a choice between dying here or up there, you will able to walk.” The knife is at my throat and his eyes are on my face.

  I keep myself carefully still and take long deep breaths. I’m not done yet, but if he thinks I am, there might still be a chance. “I’ll try.”

  “Good girl!”

  Before I can move to get out, he twists his hand in a grotesque little movement, and I get that sharp, stinging pain again on my neck.

  “I said, I’ll do it!” I snap, rubbing the cut. It hurts like a bramble scratch, so it must be shallow.

  “I’ll help you.” He leans over suddenly, and picks me out of the car. I scream as my shoulder bashes the door frame. He curses and dumps me on the ground.

  “Now walk. Hurry up. It’ll be light soon.”

  He shoves me ahead of him, and keeps the knife pointing into the back of my neck. I stumble and beat the undergrowth away with helpless hands. Once I slip on the wet chalk and nearly fall, but he hauls me up. The stormy heat of the air is smothering, and soon I’m dripping with sweat. My eyes are stinging.

  By the time we reach the road, I’m praying for a car, or even the police. Pearl knew
about the barrow. By the time the rescuers have finished with Victoria and Mary, they’ll realise it was Leon. The road is empty and just a few feet of chalky path lie between me and my destiny. Funny how things turn out.

  “Help!” I scream to the rain and the storm clouds, to the distant tumbling sea and the shrouded city on the hill. And then I twist away from the knife and run straight up that stony path to the top of the Downs. Thunder rumbles closer, and suddenly I’m further ahead. I can hear him swearing and slipping. At long last I’ve got that lucky break. I forget my injured shoulder and my exhaustion, and concentrate on digging into that hill. I’m lighter on my feet than he is and I gain a few more inches when I grab onto a spindly hawthorn bush to haul myself up, and a whole branch breaks off. I twist as I run and fling it backwards, hearing the cursing as it falls back onto Leon. Another couple of seconds saved.

  A flash of lightening illuminates the top of the Downs as I finally crest the hill, gasping. I turn my head wildly, looking for somewhere to hide. A mile or so to the west there’s a ring of trees, but I would need to run all the way with no cover. Ahead of me I can see the barrow, an unmistakable smooth mound of earth with a dipped top, like a grassy bowl. I head towards the trees, but it’s no good. Here on the flat I’m no match for him. Leon finally catches up and grabs me.

  Thunder crashes around us as the storm breaks properly. He shouts something as he pulls me towards the barrow. I slip out from his arm and twist away as he plunges the knife at my chest. It’s like some nightmare game of chase. But I can only dodge for so long, and this time when he grabs me he tightens his hands around my neck. My already battered body can’t fight his iron grip, and I paw frantically at his hands until the red pinpricks appear behind my scrunched eyelids. I can’t breathe. He’s going to kill me here and now.

  But he doesn’t. He’s dragging me towards the centre of the barrow. I fight every step, making my weight as heavy as I can, hanging onto his arms. In the middle of the grassy dip is a stone. It’s not as big as the Killing Stone at Glebe House, but more like those marker stones you see so often on the Downs and on country roadsides, telling you that you have however many miles to Brighton. But it is a stone, and I know why he hasn’t killed me yet.

  One last desperate struggle. I fling myself at the knife. At the same time I aim my knee upwards with the force of a sledgehammer, right into his testicles. He falters, caught off-balance, before grabbing me with more strength than I thought possible. We fall down together. I’m on top and I can see the weapon. I dive for it again, focusing my whole being on that glittering prize, ignoring Leon’s yell of fury, his fist in my face, and the pain that engulfs my entire body in a hot wave.

  I feel a squall of rain and see a flash of lightening. Then a huge clap of thunder seems to split the hills apart. In that white light, I seize the knife from the grass, and clench my fist on the handle. I aim wildly at his chest, again and again. Most of my blows miss, but I feel him flinch against me as I strike home.

  His own hand closes on my wrist, squeezing, twisting, and my screams echo across the downlands. We roll over and over as the rain beats viciously down. Patches of chalk and flint tear my skin open. The storm is a noisy audience to our tragedy.

  I can barely hear the sound of feet, but someone else joins the fight. It’s a moment before I realise that he’s on my side. I make a grab for the knife but the stranger has taken Leon off me. The man’s hair is plastered across his face, and his breathing is as heavy as mine. He hauls Leon away, throwing him down onto the grass not far from the dark shape that must be the milestone.

  Leon never moves, but I see his blood staining the ancient turf in the next jagged slash of lightening. Black on black, but his blood is darker. Evil. A sacrifice for the Ancients, or a fitting end for a murderer?

  Thunder rumbles overhead. I wait, gasping in lungfuls of the cool air, for the next thread of lightning so I can see my rescuer’s face. I’ve seen it countless times over the last month, but now, looking full on at the dark hair, the deep-set eyes and the sharp face, he’s closer than he has ever been. He is younger than I thought. Still in his twenties, maybe. Despite the broad shoulders and height, he moves lightly, even gracefully, like an athlete.

  I grab the knife and back away from him. But the watcher never moves.

  “Why did you help me?” I gasp out. I’m shaking, as much from the fight as from his presence.

  He stays where he is with his brown-and-amber eyes locked on mine. The rain beats down, and I wait for him to speak. To explain. So much emotion passes between us without a word being spoken.

  “Who are you?” I think I know of course, but I want him to tell me. Those unusual eyes, the bone structure, and the way he carries himself, can surely mean only one thing.

  He takes a step towards me, and I tighten my grip on the knife. He spreads both hands low and wide, approaching me as you would a frightened animal. “I’m not going to hurt you, Ruby.”

  “Why have you been stalking me then? Stealing my things . . . staring at me . . . I thought you were the murderer!” My words come out jumbled and confused, but I lower the knife uncertainly. “You stole my knickers for Christ’s sake, you creep!”

  He’s very close now. But he doesn’t touch me.

  “George was my dad. He took off when I was a baby, and I don’t remember him. But my mam had relatives down South and she kept track of him. Last winter, she was really sick, and before she died, she told me about how he’d run off with another woman — your mam — and she gave me an address in Croydon.”

  “So? You tracked George down. Hell, when I first saw you properly I even thought you might even be his ghost. You scared the living daylights out of me!”

  His northern accent is softer up close, and it’s lost that harsh edge of anger. Very carefully, slowly, he stretches out a hand to my bare arm for just a moment. “I am not going to hurt you, and I am nothing like George,” he says.

  I stay where I am. “Go on. What happened then? You came to find us in Croydon?”

  “After she told me, I thought I’d go and see my dad, just to — well, just to meet him. For a couple of days I just followed him around.” He gives a wry smile. “I saw the kind of man he was, who he spent time with, but I still wanted something. I don’t know what I wanted, really. Some kind of acknowledgement, I suppose.”

  On the road below us, at the first bend of the hill, flashing police lights and sirens invade our hillside.

  “I have to go.”

  “Why? You might have just saved my life.” I squint at him, taking in the sharp angles, the dark eyes that remain fixed on my face.

  “Ruby, I saw you kill George. That night I followed him to the King’s Head, and I tried speaking to him. He just laughed when I said who I was, and told me to get lost, but he did buy me a drink later, and agreed we could talk on his way home if I didn’t bother him in front of his mates.”

  “You were in the alley.”

  “Yes. There was a doorway at the far end. When I turned into the alley, you were already attacking George. My dad. I stayed in the doorway and watched.”

  “You never tried to stop me.”

  “No. When you ran away, I went to check if he was dead. Another couple of men came down the alley, and saw me bending over his body. That was it. A few days later I was arrested. They kept me in for a few days, but they had nothing on me and they had to let me go. Then I knew I had to find you.”

  The sirens and lights are closer, but something still niggles me. “Was he dead? When you checked him, I mean?”

  Dark eyes meet mine, and one hand comes up to touch my cheek, another feather-light touch that sends shivers around my body. “I’ll see you soon, Ruby.”

  The watcher runs swiftly back across the barrow and disappears down the other side. I realise I still don’t know his name. And if I believe him, this is the second time we’ve committed murder together.

  The storm is moving inland now with a crackle of thunder. Overhead the clouds
swirl black and thick, but the air is still heavy with summer heat. I lie down on the rain-soaked turf, surprised at the warmth of the earth beneath my body. The downpour beats onto my sore face, as I wait for the police.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “Do you think Leon was actually insane or just a drug addict?” I ask suddenly.

  We’re at the hospital, and Inspector Hammond is sat at my bedside with Eileen. On the other side Pearl is changing the bag on my drip, glaring at them. Matron was pretty good about letting her change wards while I’m in here.

  “A bit of both, probably. It seems he was a regular user since his early teens, but we spoke to his mother, and she said he had periods of depression when he was at college. He would go and read in his room for days and keep the door locked.” The inspector sighs. “Unfortunately he was also very clever. People like that often are. His research gave him a cause, and he became obsessed. The Ancients you say he talked to would be a classic case of either drug-induced psychosis or part of his personality disorder. As an academic he was free to go where his Ancients told him to. We’ve already linked him to another murder in Wales, as well as the two girls in Manchester. All connected with new developments on sites that he may have believed had ancient roots,” Inspector Hammond said.

  “What about Ted? Have you charged him with anything?” I rub my aching head, “Why was he in Manchester?”

  “It seems to be pure coincidence that both Ted and Leon were in the area in the same year. We are satisfied that Mr Wallington, Ted, had nothing to do with the murders, but we will be charging him with damage to property.”

  “The fire at Kenny’s flat?”

  “Yes. It seems he met Leon by chance, and he told him that you suspected he, Ted, was the murderer, and had told the police. Leon also helpfully mentioned that Kenny was the one who tracked down the evidence, and that he was at home right now. Don’t worry, we won’t be too hard on the lad. He was obviously terrified, after the last time.”