by Helen Phifer
‘She only has Stan. I don’t think she’ll want to stop there. Her apartment is only a one bedroom and she doesn’t even have a sofa for someone to sleep on.’
‘Then she has to stop at yours; you have that massive house and live there on your own.’
‘Hang on a minute, she won’t come to my house. Especially now I’ve pissed her off so much.’
‘Well she’s going to have to. I’ll tell her. You don’t mind, do you? Unless you want to ask Tom to pay for her to stay at a hotel for a few days.’
‘That’s not going to happen, and she won’t be any safer in a hotel than she is in her own home.’
‘Well then someone is going to have to watch her twenty-four hours a day. Do we have a budget or the staff for that?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ll do what I can. I’ll ask her if she wants to come to mine. Amy, please go find her and bring her back. What a mess. We can’t have her wandering off on her own until we know what’s happening.’
Amy saluted. ‘Yes, boss. Does she have a magnet built inside of her that attracts trouble; I’ve never known anyone like it.’
She left him alone in the office staring at the whiteboard. Part of him excited that things were happening that could lead them to Gabby Stevens’s killer and a part of him terrified about at what expense it might be. He really liked Morgan, and the thought of her being dragged into this investigation on a personal level made his stomach churn and the back of his throat burn with acid. Before she came along, things were so much simpler in this department and he wondered if he’d made a bad decision by asking her to join them so soon after her training. No, he told himself, she wasn’t a bad decision at all. She was the best one; his life had turned around since she’d begun working with him and he enjoyed her company. It wasn’t her fault she seemed to get involved with all the criminals in the county. They would sort this out.
He picked up the phone to ring the high-tech unit at Penrith, to get someone to come down here to retrieve any evidence from Morgan’s phone, and to get some advice about what to do.
Amy came back with Morgan, who was carrying a paper cup carrier filled with steaming hot coffees that smelt amazing. She handed one to him. ‘Peace offering.’
He smiled. ‘Absolutely no need for that but thank you. I need this more than you could ever know.’
She laughed. ‘Me too. Sorry if I spoke out of turn; I don’t mean to, but I can’t help what goes on inside my head.’
‘No, you didn’t. It’s just, well, you know. We don’t want to think that sort of thing goes on around here, but you are right, just because we don’t expect it doesn’t mean that it can’t. The last thing I want is to be blinkered and let Gabby’s parents down. So thank you for bringing it to our attention. Darcy from the high-tech unit is on her way to take a look at your phone, and did Amy tell you about her wonderful idea?’
‘Not yet?’
‘Amy, why don’t you explain?’
Ben picked up his coffee and walked into his office, closing the door. He needed paracetamol to go with his caffeine fix, and he didn’t want to witness Morgan’s reply to Amy’s crazy idea. If she did agree to come stay at his house, he was going to have to go shopping and clean up. Living alone meant a different takeaway every night and getting the polish out when the dust was too thick to see the image clearly on the TV screen. A bit of company might be nice though, and they could discuss the case whenever they wanted. And he’d know that she was safe. Not that he thought Morgan Brookes needed a man to keep her safe; no, he knew she was capable of looking after herself. But she’d been through so much the last few months and it might be nice for her to have some company, and the more he thought about it he would enjoy it even more. His house had been too quiet since Cindy’s death.
His door opened and Morgan walked in.
‘Amy said I had to stop with you. Is this a direct order?’
He shook his head. ‘She has such a way with words. No, it isn’t.’
She took him by surprise by smiling, and her green eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘I’m joking, I honestly don’t need to stop at your house. But it might be nice for a couple of days until we know what’s going on, as long as you don’t mind and she didn’t blackmail you into it because I don’t need sympathy from her or you.’
‘No, she didn’t blackmail me, not directly. And I know you don’t need sympathy. It makes sense; we can work the case from there if we need to. I have plenty of spare rooms.’
‘The spare room is fine and, yes, I suppose we could work even longer. Thank you, I have an appointment at four then I’ll go grab some stuff.’
‘No problem.’
She left him to it and he wondered if he was going to regret it, or would it be the opposite and would he enjoy her company so much that it would be difficult to let her go when the time came?
SEVENTEEN
Rushing out of the office with her head down, she walked straight into Dan, who held out his arms and caught her.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.’ She lifted her head from the piece of paper she was reading and was mortified.
He smiled at her and she didn’t sense any animosity from him. She smiled back.
‘Thank you for the present, but you didn’t have to.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m glad you like it and, yes, I think I did. I was an arsehole to you for no reason other than jealousy. I’m sorry, Morgan, can we call a truce?’
She laughed. ‘Of course we can. I hate falling out with people.’ She didn’t add, especially when I’ve done nothing wrong.
‘Awful news about that girl yesterday. How are you getting on?’
‘Not wonderful, lots of things to look into. No definite leads as of yet though. What are you on with? Much happening?’
‘I’ve got to go see the DCI. That bloody idiot, the mayor Greg Barker, told them I passed information on to him.’
‘Did you?’
‘Nothing about the cases or the Potters’ murders. He used to ring and ask me stuff occasionally, but I never told him anything that wasn’t already in the public domain.’
‘God, that’s all you need. Just tell him that; he’s probably grasping at straws and trying to cause trouble for you.’
‘Hey, do you fancy grabbing some lunch later or a coffee if you get the chance? We could have a proper catch-up.’
Morgan nodded. ‘That would be great. I don’t know what time though. We’re going to visit the victim’s parents soon.’
‘Just call me when you’re free. I can come meet you or pick you up, if I haven’t been suspended.’
He laughed at his joke, but Morgan just smiled because there was a good chance if there was any evidence against him for passing on information he would be.
‘Yes, I will. Good luck.’
She walked off, feeling much better. At least she didn’t have to worry about the uncomfortable feeling whenever she saw him now. Had he been passing on information? She really hoped he hadn’t because he’d lose his job, and despite everything he was a good copper.
Going into the storeroom, she grabbed some boxes of evidence bags to stock up their cupboard. They needed to take plenty with them to visit Gabby Stevens’s parents, in case anything had been missed in the initial search yesterday. Once she’d replenished the huge, black kitbag with bags, gloves, search forms and everything else they needed, she knocked on Ben’s door.
‘Coming.’ He came out and looked at the bag. ‘That was quick. Have you been home to get your stuff?’
‘No, it’s the search bag. I thought we might need it. Better to be prepared than waste time coming back for it.’
He smiled. ‘You’re good, Brookes, very good.’
‘She’s also a teacher’s pet,’ Amy muttered from her behind her computer.
‘Come on, let’s get this over with. I’m not looking forward to seeing the Stevens again. It’s so hard knowing that nothing we say or do is going to make any of this any better.’
> ‘What if we catch him, lock him up and throw away the key? Surely that might help.’
‘It will, but they’re still left without their daughter.’
Morgan couldn’t argue with that.
The blue-and-white tape had been removed from the entrance to the street. There was now a piece across the front gate to the Stevens’ house and a PCSO was sitting in an unmarked car outside. Ben parked in front of it and they got out. Morgan immediately felt a huge weight pressing down on her shoulders. The PCSO got out of the car with a scene guard booklet in one hand and a fluffy key ring with the front door key to the house in the other.
‘Morning. Are the parents around, do you know?’
She nodded. ‘Yep, they’re still in the house up there with Susan.’
Ben thanked her. ‘I’ll go get them if you want to sign us in, Morgan.’ He was already briskly walking up the street.
The PCSO lowered her voice. ‘He’s so lovely; he never snaps or gets moody. Not like our sergeant.’
Morgan finished signing their names and looked at her. ‘Yeah, he’s nice and isn’t as moody as he was when I first started working for him.’
‘He’s lost weight as well, looks a bit of all right. God knows there are not many decent blokes to look at in this station.’
Morgan laughed. ‘I didn’t really notice.’
Ben came out of the gate with Charlotte Stevens and Morgan felt her heart tear a little for the woman who looked dazed. She quickly signed Charlotte Stevens’s name into the logbook: they needed to keep a record of everyone who went in and out of the scene for continuity when it went to court. No one could go inside who didn’t have a good reason to; the preservation of evidence took precedence over everything else.
Ben opened the gate for her.
‘It’s like something out of a television show, isn’t it? I mean you don’t expect this to happen, do you? It’s not what your life should look like,’ Charlotte said quietly.
Morgan felt as if her throat had closed up. It was hard to find the right words to say but Ben didn’t falter.
‘It’s horrific. I’m sorry that you’re having to do this, Charlotte. We really appreciate it, but we need to make sure nothing is missing from Gabby’s room and we need to locate her phone.’
‘Is it missing? It should be on her bedside table. She never went anywhere without it. Her dad would tease her, saying she’d have to have it surgically removed.’
‘The search team didn’t find it yesterday.’
‘They can’t have looked hard enough. Was it a team of men?’ Charlotte gave a strained laugh at her joke, and Morgan smiled.
‘Yes, it was.’
‘Well if they’re anything like Harry then God help you; he can’t find his glasses when they’re on his head.’
As they stepped into the house, Charlotte lowered her head and crossed herself. The smell of decomposition lingered in the air, although not as strong now Gabby’s body had been removed.
‘That smell. I’m scared after everything is over, all I’m going to remember about my baby is how bad she smelt. She always wore Chanel Chance; Gabby would be horrified to know she smelt this way.’ A sob escaped her lips, and Morgan reached out her hand, gently clasping Charlotte’s.
‘You can give her perfume to the undertakers when they release her body, or you could spritz the clothes you want her to wear in it so she smells like she used to.’
‘That’s nice, thank you. I never thought of that; Gabby would like that. I will.’
Morgan glanced at Ben who looked almost as distraught as Charlotte, and she wondered if he was thinking about Cindy, his dead wife. Did this bring back memories for him?
He led the way upstairs to Gabby’s bedroom, pushing open the door. Charlotte stepped in behind him.
‘Can I touch anything now?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, of course. If you could check through her personal belongings to make sure everything is there. Did she keep a diary at all?’
She shrugged. ‘She was twenty-three; there are some things you don’t tell your parents. Actually a lot of things, but she was a good girl. She never hurt anyone and she loved her family and friends.’
The words came out barely a whisper. Morgan tugged a pair of gloves from her pocket to offer to Charlotte, and Ben shook his head. He motioned to her to keep her hands in her pockets; if needed they would glove up when Charlotte gave them anything to take away. She realised he didn’t want to put her through having to wear nitrile gloves to touch her daughter’s things. Morgan expected her to fall apart, but she surprised them all by beginning to search through the open drawers and under the bed with a steely determination etched across her face. She pulled out a jewellery box and lifted the lid. Giving it a once-over, she shut it again. Finally, she turned to them and shrugged.
‘Everything seems to be here. The only thing missing is her phone.’
‘Thank you, we really appreciate you looking. I know how difficult this is.’
She shrugged. ‘What else can I do? I feel helpless. I let her down. I was so selfish wanting to get away for a bit of sunshine and cocktails. She’s dead because of that, and now I have to live with it. The least I can do is help you to find her killer. I want to look him in the eyes and ask him what fucking right he had to do this. Who told him he could play God with my daughter’s life? And then do you know what I’d do? I’d stick a knife straight in his heart and watch him die.’
‘You did nothing wrong, Charlotte, you’re allowed to go on holiday. Gabby wasn’t a child; she was an adult, more than capable of looking after herself for a few days. The only selfish person is the bastard who decided to come in here and take her life. Neither you nor Harry are to blame for any of this.’
She bent her head and whispered: ‘Thank you.’
Morgan asked: ‘We don’t know how he got inside yet; everything is secure and we found no footprints around the windowsills. Did you keep a spare key anywhere?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, under the pair of ceramic wellies by the front door.’
Ben turned to go and check. The search team hadn’t found a spare key yesterday but they might have missed it. Morgan followed and watched as he tugged on a pair of gloves. Opening the front door, he bent down and lifted the planter to reveal a key. He didn’t need to tell Morgan to get evidence bags because she was already running towards the car for them. She returned with a large sack and a small plastic bag. Ben apologised as he put the plant pot into the paper sack, then the key into the much smaller one. Both of them praying there were prints on either item that might give them a much-needed break: the killer must have known about it and used it to get into the house. It explained there being no signs of a forced entry if he had access to the key.
‘I think it might be wise to get the locks changed, Charlotte.’
‘Why, do you think he’s going to come back?’
‘I don’t know, but it’s possible.’
‘I hope he does; I’ll be bloody waiting for him.’
Morgan liked her. Despite everything, she was strong and feisty.
Ben answered: ‘If anyone tries to get inside your house, Charlotte, you must ring 999. You can’t take the risk.’
‘Oh, I will. Don’t worry.’
‘Good, I’m going to release the house soon. So you can come home. Would you like us to arrange someone to come in and clean Gabby’s room for you?’
She shook her head. ‘No, thank you. There have been enough strangers in my home. I’ll clean it.’
She walked back up the street to her friend’s house, and Ben turned to Morgan.
‘She’s tough.’
‘I know, I like her.’
‘I thought you might. Come on, let’s get these back to Wendy and see if she can work some magic. A set of prints would be amazing.’
‘He must have taken Gabby’s phone as his trophy. I suppose, to most people, our phones are our most prized, personal possession.’
She signed them all out of the scen
e and told the PCSO she wouldn’t be here much longer, then climbed into the car. As she did, she caught a whiff of Ben’s aftershave; it smelt nice, especially after the awful smell from inside the crime scene. She looked at her watch; she had thirty minutes to get to the station for her car and to get to her appointment.
EIGHTEEN
He watched from his car. So many girls, so little time. The sixth form college car park was a favourite place of his to spend time. Nobody ever gave the car a second glance, everyone was too busy scurrying from their cars into the main entrance or vice versa. The only problem was most of them were just a little too young. He didn’t want an immature teenager. He preferred a woman in her early twenties; one who was just beginning to ripen nicely like a decent wine. He didn’t want anyone too old either. He wasn’t after a mother figure, despite what the psychologists would say. Yes, he hated his mother but he didn’t want to relive killing her over and over. Christ, that would be like some kind of torture. He wanted someone who was his type. Someone he would enjoy thinking about for the rest of his life. If he was going to see their face in his dreams, why would he pick some ugly, wrinkled old cow? No, he wanted someone pretty, someone like that copper. Now she was his type. He’d spied her going into the station yesterday. The sunlight had glinted off her copper hair, tied into a high ponytail. Her skin had a warm glow to it with a smattering of freckles and her eyes, those green eyes. He wanted her but not in the way he wanted his girls. They were for a specific purpose; they were the players in his game. The policewoman had been an added bonus. If he was going to get caught, he’d like it to be her that straddled him, cuffed him and read him his rights.
He had to stop thinking about her because he was getting hot under the collar.
A car reversed into the space next to him and he glanced at the driver and smiled. She was older than most of the girls who had been in and out. She smiled back, grabbed a bag off the passenger seat and got out of the car. She was tall, athletic and had a high ponytail. She was blonde, but it didn’t matter about hair colour. She reminded him of her and she looked around the same age.
