by Helen Phifer
Ben added: ‘Do you have somewhere to stay? I’m really sorry, but we can’t let you back into the house until we’ve finished searching and processing the scene, and that might take some time.’
Sue spoke. ‘They can stay here as long as it takes. You both have your suitcases. I’ll wash whatever you need.’
Ben smiled. ‘Thank you, that’s great. We’ll try and be as quick as we possibly can, but we need to be thorough. I know you will want us to make sure we’ve got every shred of evidence we possibly can. There’s a family liaison officer who will be here soon; they will be your point of contact and keep you up to date with everything that’s happening. If you have any questions, they will help, and if you need to speak to either of us then they will let us know.’
Charlotte nodded. ‘We never should have gone away. It was a cheap holiday. It’s my fault, I kept moaning at Harry about needing a break. If we hadn’t gone, this wouldn’t have happened.’
Morgan noticed that Harry didn’t reach out for his wife’s hand; instead, he stared down at the floor, and she felt awful for them both. She wondered if their marriage would survive this, if he would for ever blame her for insisting they went away. If he didn’t, would she be able to live with the guilt that had no doubt lodged itself inside her heart? Humans seemed to be good at blaming themselves whenever things went wrong, even if it had nothing to do with them.
‘You can’t blame yourselves. This isn’t your fault and it’s not Gabby’s fault. The only person to blame is whoever decided they had the right to break into your home and kill your daughter.’
Charlotte smiled at Morgan, but it never reached her eyes as she whispered: ‘Thank you.’ Then she bent her head and began writing some names for them. The pen was shaking in her fingers but she continued then ripped the page from the book, passing it across the table to Morgan.
‘I’ve put them in order of who she was closest to; the password is at the bottom. I don’t think she’s changed it recently. I think she used the same one for all her accounts: Facebook, emails, et cetera. I only know it because we both share a couple of accounts for online shopping.’
Morgan looked at it then folded it, tucking it inside her notebook. ‘Thank you, this will be a huge help. Can you talk us through what happened when you arrived home?’
Harry sipped his tea. ‘There isn’t much to tell. We got dropped off by the airport taxi at almost six this morning. When we went inside we knew immediately something was wrong. It was such a mess and then there was the smell; oh God it was my girl that awful smell.’ His breath caught in the back of his throat.
‘What was the house like? Was it secure? Did you have to unlock the door to get inside? Can you remember if the lights were on or off?’
Charlotte shook her head. ‘No, the lights were off. It was in darkness and we had to use a key to open the door. When we turned the light on, we thought we’d been burgled then I saw the money still there and the iPad. Gabby’s key ring was on the floor. I just knew something was terribly wrong. I shouted Gabby; I thought maybe she’d had a party and the house had got trashed, but Harry was already running up the stairs to check on her. He knew, knew what that awful smell was and I followed him. Her bedroom door was shut but the others were all open. He knocked then pushed it open and—’
The tears began to flow; this time Harry did reach out for his wife, holding her close as she sobbed into his chest. Ben stood up and Morgan followed, desperate to get out of the confined kitchen, which seemed to be getting smaller by the minute.
‘Where’s Gabby’s key ring now?’
Harry pushed his hand into his pocket. Tugging it out, he held it in the air. Morgan stared at the picture of Gabby and two friends, mouths open, mid-scream, as it dangled in front of her. It had been snapped by an automated camera on a ride at a theme park, the sort of photo you normally cringed at when you saw what you looked like. Gabby had a sense of humour and she liked her even more for it. Her heart ached even more at the loss of her life. Ben pulled out a glove, slipped his hand inside and took it from Harry.
‘I need to get this checked for prints.’
‘I didn’t think. I just shoved it in my pocket when I saw it on the floor. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay, anyone would do the same. Thank you. Once again I’m very sorry about Gabby.’
Sue led them to the front door, giving the grieving couple some space. She didn’t speak and watched Ben and Morgan as they headed back to the car.
It was time to go to the station for a briefing.
SIX
In the large office which housed the CID department, Detective Constable Amy Smith tucked her long fringe behind her ear. She was regretting having her blonde hair cut into a bob. It was too short to tie up and got in the way when it was down. Glancing at her reflection in Ben’s office window, she wished she’d worn trousers instead of a dress. She looked as if she was ready to go out for afternoon tea not work a murder investigation. Thank God Ben had called Morgan out and not her. She was quite happy to be in the office gathering the information she needed to give to the PCSOs, so they could start the house-to-house enquiries regarding Gabrielle Stevens’s murder. Amy had been shocked to come into work and be notified by the duty sergeant of the morning’s events. Straight away she’d rung Ben, who was her supervisor, to see if she was needed at the scene. He’d told her to get the questionnaires ready, so she had. She was in the process of hunting down clipboards to attach the still-warm sheets of paper to, when the door opened and in walked response officer Dan Hunt, carrying a small gift bag with a large pink bow stuck to the front of it. She took one look at him and the bag. Despite him being in love with himself, there was no denying his black hair, tanned skin and brown eyes were easy on the eye. It was no wonder women swooned over him, not that she’d ever tell him that; his head was big enough.
‘Aww, how kind of you, Dan, you didn’t have to. It’s not my birthday so what have I done to deserve this?’
‘It’s not for you.’
She gasped and placed her hand over her mouth. ‘What, why would you say that? Who’s it for then?’
His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. ‘Which one is Morgan’s desk?’
She pointed to the desk at the back of the room nearest the window with a large chunk of pink rose quartz on it. ‘That’s Morgan’s. It’s not her birthday, is it? Because I didn’t know and I’d feel bad if I missed it.’
He shook his head. ‘Not that I know of.’
‘What’s that for then? Last I heard you were being a dick to her because she got to come work up here and you never.’
‘It’s because I wasn’t very nice about that; it’s an apology.’
‘What’s in it?’
‘A pair of earrings.’
‘Expensive?’
‘What’s it got to do with you?’
She shrugged. ‘I’ll tell you whether it’s a good enough apology or whether you need to try harder.’
‘Pandora.’
‘Suppose they’ll do. I wouldn’t expect her to come crawling back and be your best friend just because you bought her earrings though, not unless she’s a pushover. Do you fancy her then?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I don’t. I was an arsehole to her when she got transferred up here and I feel bad. It’s been worrying me for weeks. What is this, Amy, an interrogation?’
She laughed. ‘No, I’m just making sure you’re not making things worse with a crappy present. You must like her a little bit if you’re buying her Pandora.’
He crossed the room to Morgan’s desk and put the small gift bag on it. ‘Get lost, Amy; don’t go stirring things when there’s no need. It’s an apology, not a marriage proposal.’
He strode out of the room to the sound of her laughter. She was still grinning when Ben and Morgan walked in.
Ben took one look at her and asked: ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Nothing really. Morgan you have a present on your desk off an admirer.’
&n
bsp; It was Morgan’s turn to blush. ‘Who’s it from?’
‘You’ll have to open it and see. I’m not spoiling all your fun.’
Ben had no idea what was going on. ‘Amy, have you sorted the questionnaires out or have you been pissing around all morning?’
That wiped the smile off her face. ‘They’re all done, boss. I even hunted down clipboards.’
‘Good because I want the house-to-house started immediately. You can go see the community sergeant and gather every available PCSO, then get down to the crime scene and oversee the enquiries.’
Gathering the pile of clipboards in her arms, she didn’t answer him back like she usually would, realising whatever had happened must be terrible to put Ben in this sort of mood. He went into his office and shut the door.
Amy turned to look at Morgan, who was staring at the gift bag.
‘Your best mate, Dan, brought it about thirty seconds before you walked in.’
‘Why? He’s not my best mate. He’s not even my mate at the moment.’
‘Open it. I want to see it. He said it’s because he was a dick to you. It’s an apology.’
Morgan pushed the bag to one side. ‘Yeah, well I don’t need an apology or a present. I don’t want anything off him.’
‘Aren’t you going to open it?’
She shook her head.
‘You’re a tough cookie, Morgan Brookes. I like that. You’re not easily bought, but maybe you could open it and take a look just for my sake. He must feel bad if he’s buying you presents.’
‘You just want to know what’s inside.’
‘I know what’s inside. He told me.’
‘Then you can have it; there’s no need to open it. I don’t want it.’
Amy shrugged. ‘I don’t think that’s the way an apology works. You don’t give the present away; you’re supposed to keep it.’
‘What’s wrong with a simple “I’m sorry”? I don’t need presents.’
‘Don’t shoot the messenger; maybe he likes you more than he realises.’
‘Dear God, I hope not. He’s not exactly boyfriend material if he can be mean to someone when they haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘Not for me to say. It’s a bit like the boys at school. You remember, the ones who were horrible to you because they liked you really and wouldn’t admit it. Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh on him? He’s—’
She never got to finish her sentence because Ben shouted: ‘Amy, what are you waiting for?’
She rolled her eyes at Morgan. ‘He’s in a right mood.’
Morgan whispered: ‘It’s awful, Amy, that poor girl was tied to her own bed and strangled. He left her for days, her body decomposing for her parents to discover her. The smell… she was going green; they thought she might explode when the undertakers came to move her.’
‘No, that’s terrible. See you later, open your gift. See, that’s exactly why you should forgive Dan. Life’s too short to hold a grudge.’
She left Morgan staring at the small bag with the oversized pink bow and took her clipboards to go find as many PCSOs as she could.
As she went downstairs to the community office, she could see Dan hovering around by the brew station. She looked the other way, not wanting to be the one to tell him his peace offering was still unopened and Morgan had been less than impressed.
SEVEN
Morgan wished she’d gone back out with Amy to help with the house to house. Anything was better than sitting here waiting for the briefing. Ben came out of his office, carrying his laptop and a paper file tucked under one arm. ‘Please can you go get the printouts I sent to the printer?’
She jumped up, nodding. Pleased to have something to do. She knew what was coming after the briefing. As soon as the Crime Scene Manager and Claire, the DCI from the Murder Investigation Team, had been spoken to about the scene, the body had been taken to the Royal Lancaster Infirmary for a post-mortem. Ben would no doubt attend and take her with him, not that she didn’t want to. It’s just she couldn’t get it out of her head the way Gabby had been brutally murdered and left like that with not a shred of decency. He hadn’t even had the heart to pull the duvet over her nakedness. He left her on show like some prized possession. Had he thought of her that way, as if she belonged to him? Gathering the sheets of paper, she made her way down to the blue room, which was still painted a weird pink colour. The oval table was almost full, so she squeezed into a gap between DCI Tom Fell and Wendy, who was nursing a huge mug of coffee which smelt really good.
Ben shuffled the papers she passed to him. Then brought up the crime scene photos Wendy had already emailed to him. The outside of the Stevens’ end-terrace house looked like any normal house on the street: the pots full of scented roses that Morgan could still smell and white walls luring everyone to a false sense of security. The atmosphere in the room was one of fraught anticipation; it almost felt static and she was tempted to reach out a finger to poke Tom and see if she gave him a shock. She glanced around: everyone was sitting up straight; some were gripping pens in their fingers so hard the ends of their fingertips were white. They wanted to see the scene, look at the body, yet at the same time would rather not. Realising it looked as if she wasn’t paying attention, she focused on the whiteboard. She didn’t need to see these photographs because the horror from inside Gabby Stevens’s bedroom would be etched into her mind for ever. Then the photographs from the inside of the house flicked across the whiteboard: the mess, the expensive electronics and cash which had been left behind.
Tom spoke.
‘It’s obviously not a burglary, too many valuables were left untouched, yet he wanted the occupiers to think so. Why the mess? Was it a control thing, or was he looking for something?’
Ben shrugged. ‘At this point in time, I can’t say. The bedrooms are in a similar state, particularly Gabby’s. Her mother insisted we call her Gabby when we talk about her, not Gabrielle.’
Morgan spoke without even thinking about it. ‘I think he was looking for something specific. I think when her parents are allowed in they’ll discover something personal is missing from Gabby’s room. It won’t be obvious though; I think he’s made the mess to hide the fact that he’s taken something, a trophy. He wanted something to remember what he did to Gabby whenever he looks at it, a reminder of the good time he had.’
She stopped, realising the whole room was staring at her. ‘I mean, it’s what they do, isn’t it?’
Tom turned to her. ‘It’s what who does?’
‘Killers, especially the sexually motivated ones, which I think this is. They like to relive the fantasy, the killing and take something personal that belonged to the victim, to look at in their own time whenever they want. Ted Bundy liked to keep his victims’ heads; he’d display them in his apartment and sometimes apply make-up to the faces or wash and brush their hair. Jerry Brudos liked to collect shoes, especially black high heels. He would then dress up in them to masturbate. Joseph DeAngelo, the Golden State Killer, took jewellery from his victims…’ The look of disbelief on Tom’s face told her to stop talking, so she did.
‘Are you saying we have some crazed serial killer along those lines on the loose, Detective Brookes? You do realise this is Rydal Falls and not New York City? Those are all American killers you have just named. It could have been some disgruntled boyfriend, a lover’s tiff gone horribly wrong and he’s trying to make it look like a burglary. It may even have been some sordid sex game that didn’t pan out how it was supposed to.’
‘Yes, sir, it could, it was just a thought worth mentioning.’
Ben quickly flicked to the next photo, catching everyone’s attention as they turned away from Morgan back to the whiteboard, and she let out a sigh.
Wendy leant over and whispered: ‘This lot wouldn’t know a sexually motivated killer if he invited them to an orgy and brought a severed head out on a silver platter. I think you have a valid point.’
Morgan smiled at her, and then turned her
attention back to the board. She would keep her mouth shut in future even if it killed her.
Ben scrolled through the photographs, each one building the anticipation in the room until he came to one taken from the bedroom door, looking at Gabby Stevens’s naked, decomposing body, lying on a double bed, the pastel pink cotton sheets and pillows a stark contrast to her white, marbled green torso and vivid, red-blue back. A collective gasp echoed around the room.
‘It’s bad, in fact it’s bloody awful. Sir, you have a point: it could be a disgruntled boyfriend; we can’t rule that out. But in my opinion, a boyfriend would have killed her without the need for the peep show. I definitely think there is some sexual motive to it. Wendy, did you find any evidence on the body of a sexual assault?’
She shook her head. ‘There were no obvious signs of semen, but it doesn’t mean she wasn’t sexually assaulted. The pathologist will be able to tell us a lot more when he takes a closer look.’
‘The property was secure when her parents arrived home. They opened the door with a key. They found Gabby’s key on the front doormat, so whoever left locked the door behind them and posted the key through. Wendy, can you get the key sent off to be fingerprinted? It’s on your desk.’
‘I will as soon as we leave this room.’
‘Excellent, thanks. Did you find any prints around the window frames, any signs of a forced entry?’
‘No. Whoever it was had either been let in to the property by the victim or had a key.’
Morgan, who firmly believed it wasn’t someone Gabby knew, held up her hand.
‘Yes, Morgan?’
‘What if they’d been stalking her and knew how to get inside? Maybe she left a window open and he cleaned around it before he left, or she hadn’t locked up properly. If they knew her routine, it would make it easier to get into the house without being seen or leaving evidence behind.’
Ben didn’t disagree with her, but he didn’t agree either. She knew it might sound far-fetched and, yes, this was Rydal Falls, a quiet Lake District town nestled between Keswick and Ambleside, but it wasn’t that long ago an entire family had been murdered in cold blood in their home. Crazy stuff happened everywhere, not just in big cities.
