Lost Girls
Page 1
Lost Girls
A Witches of Glory Woods Novel
By K. Leitch
Copyright ©Kay Leitch 2015
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the author.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First published 2015, updated January 2016
Cover model and artwork by Jessica Luxon.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1 - Exerts from a letter found amongst the belongings of Una Flannery
CHAPTER 2 - 1997
CHAPTER 3 - Part of a letter found in amongst the belongings of Una Flannery dated 15 March 1969
CHAPTER 4 - CARLA
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6 – 1969 Exerts from a diary found in the belongings of Una Flannery
CHAPTER 7 - CAULDRON MEETING
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9 - MAGGIE
CHAPTER 10 - HELEN
CHAPTER 11 - 1969 Exerts from the diary of Una Flannery
CHAPTER 12 - CARLA
CHAPTER 13 - TRACY
CHAPTER 14 – 1969 Exerts from the diary of Una Flannery
CHAPTER 15 - HELEN
CHAPTER 16 – 1969 Exerts from the diary of Una Flannery
CHAPTER 17 - TRACY
CHAPTER 18 – 1969 Exerts from the diary of Una Flannery
CHAPTER 19 - CARLA
CHAPTER 20 - HELEN
CHAPTER 21 - MAGGIE
CHAPTER 22 - CARLA
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24 – 1969 Exerts from the diary of Una Flannery
CHAPTER 25 - CARLA
CHAPTER 26 - CAULDRON MEETING…at The Bull public house
CHAPTER 27 – 1970 Exerts from the diary of Una Flannery
CHAPTER 28 - TRACY
CHAPTER 29 - MAGGIE
CHAPTER 30 - CARLA
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32 - MAGGIE
CHAPTER 33 - 1971 Exerts from the diary of Una Flannery
CHAPTER 34 - CARLA
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36 - 1971 Exerts from the diary of Una Flannery
CHAPTER 37 - HELEN
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39 - CARLA
CHAPTER 40 - CAULDRON MEETING
CHAPTER 41 - CARLA
CHAPTER 42 - TRACY
CHAPTER 43 - HELEN
CHAPTER 44 - CARLA
CHAPTER 45 - 1972 Exerts from the diary of Una Flannery
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47 - CARLA
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49 - MAGGIE
CHAPTER 50 - CARLA
CHAPTER 51 - 1972 Exerts from the diary of Una Flannery
CHAPTER 52 - TRACY
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54 - CARLA
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56 - HELEN
CHAPTER 57 - CARLA
CHAPTER 58 - CAULDRON MEETING
CHAPTER 59 - CARLA
CHAPTER 60
CHAPTER 61 - HELEN
CHAPTER 62 - MAGGIE
CHAPTER 63 - HELEN
CHAPTER 64 - CARLA
CHAPTER 65
CHAPTER 66
CHAPTER 67 - ACCIDENTAL CAULDRON MEETING
CHAPTER 68
CHAPTER 69 - CARLA
CHAPTER 70 – JOOLS’ HEN PARTY
CHAPTER 71 - FOUR WEEKS LATER
A NOTE FROM KAY
NEXT TIME...
PREVIOUSLY...
PROLOGUE
With a loud, almost animal like moan of despair rising up from his chest, he sank to his knees and looked down in horror at the woman that lay in the muddy grave below him.
Despite the rain and the mud, he could clearly see blood oozing out from the large wound on the side of her skull. He put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from retching and shook his head over and over in panic and misery.
What had he done now! He hadn’t meant to hit her that hard, he really hadn’t but she had seen the hole in the ground and she had known it for what it was…who it was intended for…she was police for Christ’s sake, where she came, others would follow…he’d had to shut her up, and now they had to get away… it had to be over now, they had no option but to flee.
What if…another, even worse dilemma occurred to him…what if she wasn’t dead? Oh God, oh God!
He needed to make sure, whimpering and shaking with emotion, he slithered down into the muddy grave and tentatively put a hand on the woman’s neck to check for a pulse…it was there, very faint but it was there…she was still alive…but she was fading fast.
He clambered back up and sat on the side of the hole, his arms wrapped round his body rocking backwards and forwards as he tried to decide what to do next. He knew what he ought to do…what SHE would want him to do and at this point in the game she was probably right. He needed to deal with this, and then he would get her away whether she wanted to or not…he nodded grimly to himself, he’d made a decision.
He tried not to look at the limp, almost lifeless form of the muddy and blood soaked woman that lay crumpled in the grave beneath his feet, he grabbed his shovel and started to cover her with sods of heavy rain soaked earth.
CHAPTER 1 - Exerts from a letter found amongst the belongings of Una Flannery
…Oh Holy Mary, Mother of Christ forgive me, miserable wretch that I am.
‘Tis a mortal sin that I’m committing… but what else can I do? They have taken everything from me, my family… my home… my dignity…my soul.
I have nothing left…nothing left to give to this hollow existence of mine. I just want to sleep…sleep and never wake.
But know this…what I have told you is the truth, I swear this with my dying breath. Just as I curse all those foul creatures that have brought me to this end.
The cruel abusers, the self serving deceivers, the sneering indifferent and the uncaring indolent bigots;
They are all guilty…their hands are all stained with blood.
May they know pain and suffering as I have done…may they die in agony and burn in the fires of hell.
Oh Lord in Heaven I ask you now to look upon this unworthy sinner. Bless me, I beg of you, with your endless mercy…and you, my beloved one…please forgive me…forgive me.
CHAPTER 2 - 1997
Philip Crowe walked slowly along the wide tree-lined road, the sun was shining and in the gardens that he passed by, spring flowers were pushing their way up towards its warm glow, their petals opening wide in the sunshine. He savoured the beauty around him; breathing in the fresh air, feeling revitalised by it, cleansed as it replaced the dusty regurgitated air that he had been breathing all day in his cramped little office. He was in fact enjoying the feeling of freedom that only came on a Friday evening, after a long hard week at work.
Philip worked for the local council, in the accounts department to be precise. From Monday to Friday he was chasing rent dodgers, listening to their whining excuses or their aggressive insults. Why couldn’t these bloody people just pay what they owe, they deserved everything they got, bloody lowlifes. It was a miserable job and Philip hated it, but it paid the bills and let’s face it, he’d been glad of any sort of work back then. He’d been lucky to find it after…he tutted to himself and shook his head trying to dispel unwelcome memories, the evening was too lovely for that sort of reminiscing.
Further along the road the larger houses, with their big front gardens, gave way to a row of tiny terraced houses. No front gardens here, just the occasional petunia filled window box or hanging basket and front doors that led directly onto the street. P
hilip stopped at number 5 and hunted slowly with arthritic fingers through his pockets to find his key.
Hanging up his coat on the rail just inside the door, Philip then collected his mail from the mat and started towards the tiny kitchen at the end of the hallway. He stopped halfway along the hall and stared in bewilderment at the kitchen, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. There seemed to be some sort of plastic sheeting covering the whole of the floor and the table.
‘What the hell?’ he thought as he slowly walked closer shaking his head in confusion, and why was the door to the living room wide open, he was sure he’d closed it as usual when he left for the office this morning. Hardly daring to breathe he edged towards the open door and looked into the room.
His heart slammed into his chest… seated on the chair straight ahead of him was a man, dressed in black from head to toe, his face covered by a mask.
Philip’s first instinct was to flee; he turned round and started back up the hall towards the front door, only to have his way blocked by another masked man who was waiting there for him. Grabbing hold of his arms, he turned Philip round and forced him back into the living room.
In a wild panic, Philip wriggled and kicked out at the man, all to no avail, at 61 years old and 5ft 8, he was never going to be a problem for the 6ft plus gorilla that had hold of him.
‘Let me go…what do you think you’re doing…who are you?’ he shouted all the time trying to pull away from the iron grip of his captor.
‘Are you Philip Crowe?’ the masked figure in the living room asked calmly, his voice muffled by the mask that he was wearing.
‘Who are you…what do you want with me?’ Philip shouted again, hating the tremor that he heard in his voice.
‘I am asking the questions…are you Philip Crowe, it’s an easy enough question surely?’ the masked man asked again getting up and standing in front of him, he was much shorter than the other man but no less intimidating.
‘Yes…what if I am, what do you want with me?’ Philip tried some bravado, maybe this could all be sorted out, obviously it was a case of mistaken identity.
He tried to reason with them. ‘Now look this has obviously been a mistake, I can’t imagine any reason why…’
‘You haven’t always been Philip Crowe though have you?’ the man said cutting him off and pulling out some papers from a bag that had been on the floor next to the chair. ‘You used to be called Jonas Silco…isn’t that right?’
Philip felt his blood run cold, ‘Nno…tthat’s not right, my name is Crowe…Philip Crowe, you’ve made a mistake…’
A heavy blow to the back of his head and his knees buckled, he could taste blood in his mouth and his ears were ringing. ‘Please you’ve got it wrong…’ he stammered, a boot to his stomach had him rolling on the floor gagging.
‘You are Jonas Silco, you worked at ‘The Linden Hotel’ for ten years, from 1962 to 1972 …are you beginning to remember Mr Silco?’
‘No…no please I’m not…you’ve got it wrong…’
‘No I don’t think so Mr Silco, we’ve been looking for you for a very long time you see…we made absolutely sure we had the right man before we came to you. So please stop insulting us by telling us we’ve made a mistake.’ He turned to the other man, ‘Pick him up…take him through.’
Two huge hands grabbed hold of the now terrified and shaking Philip and lifted him up none too gently under his arms, the whole room was spinning and he felt a hot stream of urine running down his legs.
‘Please,’ he tried again desperately, ‘I don’t know what you want from me…if it’s money I don’t have much, but I do have some jewellery from my grandmother, take it…but please just leave me alone…’
The two men completely ignored him, just bundled him into the kitchen. The smaller of the two and the one doing all the talking held up an old black and white photograph.
‘Remember her?’ he said pushing the picture up against his face, he held up another one, ‘What about her…ring any bells Jonas?’
Terrified, Philip squinted at the pictures, but without his reading glasses all he could make out were blurred images.
‘I can’t see…who are they…I can’t see without my glasses.’ He started crying. ‘Please…please I’m an old man, what can you possibly want from me…please don’t do this.’
But the men it seemed were past talking, and only now did a horror-struck and shaky Philip begin to make sense of the plastic sheeting covering his kitchen floor, he felt bile rise in his throat and began to heave and gag.
Regardless of his distress a smelly cloth was stuffed into his mouth and his hands were lashed together, the big man then used his bound hands to pull him over the small kitchen table on his stomach and secure him there. Philip kicked out with all his might as he felt his shoes being removed. Next to go were his trousers and underpants, Philip roared furiously into his gag at this total humiliation.
The smaller of the two men came round and stood in front of him; he looked straight at Philip, his eyes boring into him. Then he held up a small tatty looking book and began to read from it.
‘BUT KNOW THIS, WHAT I HAVE TOLD YOU IS THE TRUTH, I SWEAR THIS WITH MY DYING BREATH….’
Philip roared into his gag and began shaking his head back and forth as the man continued reading from the book. Once he had finished reading he lowered his head until his mouth was next to Philip’s ear.
‘This is for all the women that you abused and violated, you unholy bastard.’ He spat at him just before something cold and hard was forced up hard inside him.
Philip screamed in his agony as the rape continued. Once again the man doing all the talking knelt down in front of him, watching his suffering as the other man pushed hard again and again making Philip howl and scream at the awful invasion. Philip turned his face towards him trying to plead for mercy, but the eyes he looked into were dead and cold without any compassion or pity.
‘Take it like the perverted cunt you are Jonas,’ the man said in a low voice. Then he grabbed him by his hair pulling his head back exposing his throat, and producing a knife from his jacket he sliced his neck, opening his carotid arteries. An arch of blood flew high out of his neck some of it landing on his face… Philip could hear gurgling, choking sounds and realised that they were coming from him. The man that had been watching him stood then and started calmly clearing up the mess in the kitchen with his companion; they worked quietly together without speaking…while Philip Crowe’s life blood flowed out of him onto the plastic sheeting beneath.
CHAPTER 3 - Part of a letter found in amongst the belongings of Una Flannery dated 15 March 1969
…I don’t want you to think that I was always unhappy my darling, oh no I was so excited to be away from home, and in London of all places. Lorna and I had often dreamt of what it would be like to live in such a place, the vast buildings and the shops, and the lights… we couldn’t imaging so many lights everywhere. Indeed it was a truly an amazing sight as I sat on the upper deck of the bus (just as Lorna and I had planned) all the way from the docks to the centre of London. The bus driver was very kind, he told me where to go when I got to my stop and I had to drag my bag for quite a way before I turned into Linden Square.
Oh it was so pretty with tall white houses all set around a pretty garden in the middle. You couldn’t walk in the garden like, it had a great fence all around it and only the grand people that had a key to the gate were allowed in there, but it was a sight to see I can tell you.
Nothing though…not even my wildest dreams could have prepared me for my first sight of ‘The Linden Hotel’, never in my life had I seen anything as grand. Huge white building it was, with shiny black railings leading up to huge great roman pillars on either side of the enormous shiny doors and the most magnificent crystal chandelier sparkling and glistening in the entrance hall. A man in uniform stood outside the doors ready to help guests with their luggage and the like…ha ha he soon sent me round the back with a flea in my ear when I told him
I was the new chamber maid mind.
No I wasn’t unhappy then, I was excited and full of hope…I didn’t know then what was to come…I hadn’t met him then….
CHAPTER 4 - CARLA
‘Watch where you step Carla, the grounds been giving way a bit after last night’s rain,’ Dorothy Smiles called out from the deep pit that she was standing in.
DI Carla Right could only see the top half of Dorothy’s head as she picked her way carefully over the muddy ground towards her. She glanced back at Frank, her sergeant who was sliding all over the place as he followed her.
‘Bloody hell Frank I told you to bring some wellies, your shoes are going to get ruined in this…’
‘I know, I know,’ Frank grumbled under his breath, ‘I thought they were in the boot of the car…I must have taken them out when we were moving Linda’s stuff overrrr arrgh…’ he said as he only just caught himself from falling onto his bum.
Carla laughed, ‘You div, try and stay on the rocky bits, it’s not so slippery there.’
They were making their way across a filthy muddy building site in the centre of Redbank. Previously a car park, the land had recently been sold to developers who had plans to build twelve luxury two bedroom apartments on the site. The digging of the foundations had only just begun when one of the diggers had turned up a human skeleton. Consequently the work had immediately stopped and the coroners’ office and the police had been called in.
Carla peered gingerly down into the crater where Dorothy Smiles, coroner and chief forensics officer, was carefully removing the dirt from around the edge of the skull, which shone out white and toothy in its muddy resting place. The body of the skeleton was coming into view a few feet away, it had obviously been separated from its head by the digger. A couple more of Dorothy’s team were carefully excavating the earth from around it.
‘How long has it been down there Dorothy?’ she asked, ‘Is this something for us or is this something for the museums?’
‘This one’s for you, I’m afraid Carla,’ Dorothy said with a grimace. ‘He’s not been here more than about twenty years I would think,’ she went on, not looking up from what she was doing. ‘As you can see we still have tiny remnants of clothing…man made fabrics I would say, they take a hell of a lot longer to rot down than natural fibres. Seems like he could have been wrapped in this plastic stuff,’ she said, pointing to some muddy blue plastic edges that were poking out of the ground beneath the skeleton, ‘but I can’t be sure about that until I get the lab to have a look at it, it appears to have a what could be remnants of blood on it though so…’