The Killer's Girl: A completely nail-biting crime thriller (Detective Morgan Brookes Book 2)

by Helen Phifer

  Turning on the engine, he began to reverse out of the parking space, simultaneously watching which door she went through whilst trying not to run any of the teenage idiots over who walked around in a world of their own. She walked a little further along than the main entrance, and he smiled. She was heading for the art department. As he pulled out, he looked at her number plate, memorising the make and model. He was happy. He’d found the next one after only a couple of hours’ hunting. Now the fun would begin. He enjoyed this part almost as much as the killing.

  It was almost four, so that meant she might be attending an evening class or possibly getting ready to teach one. He knew there were several classes that started late. All he had to do was narrow it down to the art classes and he’d know exactly when she’d be in and out. Then he could park up on the street and wait for her to leave. He’d follow her home and find out where she lived. Easy pickings. He grinned, wondering if she had a boyfriend or a partner at home. Those kinds of things complicated stuff a little, but it wasn’t impossible. It hadn’t mattered with G; he would have still killed her if her parents hadn’t gone away on holiday. That had been an added bonus. It had meant they had the house to themselves and he’d been able to take his time instead of having to rush.

  NINETEEN

  Morgan looked at the row of houses, picking out the one Isaac lived and worked from. Her stomach felt weird, a combination of nerves and hunger. She realised she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She would meet Dan for a late lunch after this if he was free. The thought of the pair of them calling a truce made her feel better. The only other person she had fallen out with for a long time had been Stan. But in her defence, he hadn’t helped the situation. She was glad they were okay now. Forcing herself to get out, she crossed the quiet road. It was a modern new-build, three-storey house with a garage. Before she could knock on the door, a man a little older than her opened it. He had a shaved head and dark stubble on his chin. He was wearing a pair of jogging pants and a Captain America T-shirt. He smiled, holding out his hand.

  ‘Isaac. You must be Morgan. Come in, excuse the casual dress, it’s my day off and I only have a college lecture later, so I don’t bother with formal clothes.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I had no idea. You didn’t need to see me today. I can come back another day.’

  ‘No way, if Amy sent you then you’re a priority. She doesn’t really get the whole psychotherapy thing, but I don’t hold it against her. She’s very close to Sophie and spends a lot of time here.’

  He led her to a door and she was sure it led into the garage. Opening it she followed him into a modern office.

  ‘It was the garage; we converted it when we realised the spare room wasn’t going to hold all my filing cabinets. Amy comes back and forth whenever she argues with Jack. Don’t tell her I said that, though; she’ll go mad.’

  Morgan laughed. ‘I can imagine. She’s lovely but she speaks her mind a lot.’

  ‘You noticed that, yep, she does. Some people have an automatic shut-off button but not Amy. But enough of her. Take a seat and tell me how I can help you.’

  She sat down and felt herself sinking into the soft, leather chair.

  ‘Comfy, eh? I think most of my clients come here to snooze in that chair, but who am I to judge?’

  ‘I’m so tired I could definitely fall asleep.’

  ‘Why are you so tired? On the phone, you mentioned not sleeping and bad dreams. So is this a regular thing?’

  Nodding her head, she felt as if she wanted to tell him everything, even though there wasn’t much to tell.

  ‘I’ve woken up at the same time every morning for the last five years without fail and it’s driving me mad. I’m exhausted. I can’t think clearly some days. Plus, I know I have bad dreams, but I don’t ever seem to be able to remember all of them. Sometimes I see a red-haired woman who looks a bit like me, but I don’t know who she is. It’s not someone I’ve ever seen in real life.’

  ‘I can definitely help you with that. Not today, of course, because this is just an informal chat and it might take quite a few sessions to get to the bottom of it. But it’s something we can work together on. This woman though: you say you don’t know her, but you probably do on some deeper subconscious level. When we sleep, the filter we keep on top of everything gets weaker and all the suppressed memories begin to float up to the surface. Do you remember anything at all about your dreams?’

  ‘I think I’m very young in them, a toddler maybe. That’s about it.’

  ‘It sounds to me like some kind of repressed memories that are resurfacing or trying to. Did you have a normal childhood? By normal, I mean absent of any kind of abuse.’

  She closed her eyes and thought back to her earliest memories. They were of her and Sylvia in the garden, picking herbs and vegetables, but she wasn’t a baby; she was about five or six.

  ‘Nothing really before I was five or six and, no, no abuse; in fact, there’s nothing out of the ordinary.’

  ‘Hmm, I’m wondering if you suffered some kind of trauma at a very early age and you’ve managed to block it out up to now. Childhood memories are usually present before the age of five or six. Is there anyone you can ask, family perhaps, about your early years?’

  ‘Stan, my dad. It’s kind of a complicated relationship. My mum took an overdose when I was fifteen and we kind of fell out and drifted apart.’

  ‘Do you not speak to each other?’ He was sitting forward, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on the palm of his hand. Morgan felt a little uncomfortable at the way he was staring at her.

  ‘We do now; we’ve been working on it.’

  ‘Good, that’s very good. Why don’t I book you a proper appointment? They usually last an hour. In the meantime, you could speak to Stan and ask him if anything happened when you were a baby that may be causing these problems. It may be that he doesn’t know or can’t tell you anything, of course. But don’t worry, Morgan, we can fix this. Maybe not in a couple of sessions but we can work towards it.’

  He smiled and stood up. Walking around to his desk drawer, he pulled out a large, black diary. ‘Now let’s see. I imagine you want to start as soon as possible. I have a gap next Tuesday at 3.15.’ He passed her a clipboard.

  ‘Please, can you put your details on there for me, just basics: address, doctor, medication, that kind of thing.’

  Taking it from him, she began writing down the answers to the questions.

  ‘I saw the news about the murder earlier. Gabby was such a lovely girl. What a terrible waste of life. Have you caught the killer yet?’

  The tiny hairs on the back of Morgan’s neck prickled.

  ‘Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. You knew Gabby?’ Signing her signature, she handed the clipboard back to him, then forced herself to get out of the ridiculously comfy armchair and stood up.

  ‘Good, because no one should have to die so young. It’s so unfair and she was so lovely. I saw her around the college. I didn’t know her very well but she was always very friendly. I lecture there a couple of times a week.’

  Morgan felt as if the breath had been pulled from her lungs and the room began to go black around the edges. She whispered, ‘It’s tragic.’

  ‘Are you okay?’

  His voice sounded far away.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she opened them and smiled.

  ‘Sorry, I’ve been feeling a bit peaky today. I think it’s the lack of sleep and stress. I’m working Gabby’s case with Amy. We may need to speak to you and get a statement about Gabby.’

  ‘Of course, anything I can do to help. Although I’ve probably just told you as much as I can. I only knew of her to recognise.’

  He walked out of his office and she followed him. He opened the front door for her and she stepped into the deserted street.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Morgan. I’ll look forward to seeing you on Tuesday. Good luck speaking to Stan.’

  She smiled and lifted her hand to wave at him. ‘Thanks, Isaa
c.’

  Inside her car, she felt a chill run through her body. She was being totally ridiculous. He worked at the college; he was bound to know some of the students. She was torn: did she mention this to Amy and Ben or did she tell Ben and let him deal with Amy? Or did she have the worst overactive imagination anyone was ever born with? That was more likely. She took her police phone out of the glove compartment and sent a message to Dan.

  Starving, need to talk, are you free?’

  Immediately a message came back.

  Yes, Coffee Co. in five?

  She sent a thumbs up. Maybe food and caffeine would kick-start her brain again and clear the fog which seemed to have settled over it.

  TWENTY

  The café was empty. Morgan took a table as far away from the counter as possible. She didn’t want the poor staff overhearing the conversation she might have with Dan. Regular people didn’t need to know the horrors of what they dealt with. If they did, they’d probably never sleep either. She didn’t wait for him before she ordered, she couldn’t. If she didn’t eat something soon she was probably going to pass out. He arrived still in uniform but he’d removed his bright yellow body armour. She’d forgotten how good he looked in black. He had shaved and the stubble he normally favoured was gone. Sipping her coffee, Morgan stared out of the window as the first drops of rain began to fall, and people began to hurry along the high street just before the heavens opened.

  The loud scrape as he pulled the chair out next to her made her jump.

  ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.’

  ‘I’m tired and was daydreaming, it’s okay. Have you been busy?’

  ‘Not too bad, shoplifter followed by a minor road traffic accident. I bet you can’t say the same.’

  ‘No, it’s been hectic and grim. I went with Ben to see Gabby Stevens’s bedroom.’

  ‘Again? What for?’ He was ripping open packets of sugar and tipping them into his huge mug of coffee.

  ‘To make sure nothing was missing. Task force didn’t find her phone yesterday. We just wanted to double-check.’

  ‘Did you find it?’ He took a huge slurp of coffee. ‘Bloody hell, burnt my tongue. It’s boiling hot.’

  She smiled. ‘Hate it when that happens. It will be all furry now for a couple of days.’

  He stuck his tongue out at her, and she laughed.

  ‘No, but we didn’t really expect to.’

  He arched an eyebrow at her, and she wondered if she should be talking about the case with him like this, but she couldn’t see why not. He was a copper, just like her; he worked for the same side. Just because they were in different departments, she wasn’t telling him anything that anyone in the station couldn’t find out. She’d missed this, the easy way they could chat about cases and help each other out. It felt good to be speaking to him, and she was relieved that they’d made it up.

  ‘This isn’t public knowledge.’

  ‘Good, because I’m not a member of the public, Morgan. I work with you.’

  ‘I got a message, several messages actually, from Gabby Stevens’s phone.’

  He stared at her, his eyes so wide she was afraid they would fall out of their sockets.

  ‘No fucking way, you can’t be serious.’ His voice was loud, so loud the guy behind the counter had stopped what he was doing.

  Morgan nudged Dan’s arm.

  ‘Sorry,’ he whispered. ‘What did they say? How did they get your number? I don’t understand why they’d text you.’

  ‘You tell me, I don’t know either. They were a bit creepy to be honest.’

  ‘Is that why you messaged off your work phone?’

  ‘Yeah, someone from the high-tech unit was coming down to take a look at my phone.’

  ‘Morgan this is serious. I know you don’t like being told what to do but you can’t have some nutter messaging you. If he knows your phone number, who’s to say he doesn’t know where you live?’

  The guy brought their bowls of soup and toasted sandwiches over. Morgan thanked him.

  ‘I need to eat before I pass out.’

  Dan nodded and they both ate in silence. When she pushed her plate away, he asked: ‘So, what are you going to do? Do you want to come and stay at my house for a bit, or I can come sleep on your armchair? Not that it’s a great bed, but you know I will.’

  ‘Thanks. Amy has already sorted something out.’

  ‘Are you stopping at hers?’

  For some reason, she felt awkward telling him she was going to Ben’s and nodded.

  ‘Hey, what happened with the DCI? I guess he didn’t suspend you.’

  ‘No, but he told me if he found out I’d passed any information to Barker that was confidential, he’d have my badge and my bollocks.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Yep, he was serious as well. But he has nothing except Barker’s word for it, which kind of means jack shit seeing as how he’s a liar.’

  ‘We both seem to be up to our necks in it.’

  ‘Speak for yourself, Brookes, you seem to find yourself in all sorts of messes without any help from me.’

  She laughed. ‘I need to get back; they’ll be sending out a search party for me.’

  Dan smiled. ‘This was nice. I’m glad we’re okay. If you need anything ring me, anytime. I have to take the van back, it’s nearly home time.’

  They both stood up, shouted thank you and walked out of the café back to her car. Dan’s van was parked behind it.

  ‘Bye, Dan.’

  She got into the car. At least something had gone right today.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Ben looked up when Morgan walked into the office. He was sitting at her desk talking to a tall woman with the most amazing dreadlocks she’d ever seen. She didn’t miss the glance he gave to the clock on the wall.

  ‘Sorry, my appointment took longer than I anticipated and I stopped off to buy something to eat on the way back.’

  He nodded, accepting her apology. ‘This is Darcy from the high-tech unit. She came to look at your phone. It’s a good job you left your password for her or it might have been a wasted journey.’

  Morgan realised he was well and truly annoyed with her, but she was too tired to care about Ben’s feelings. She felt as if she wanted to curl up in a ball on the floor and sleep for a year. Exhausted wasn’t the word.

  ‘So what did you find out?’

  It was Darcy who answered. ‘I’ve run a trace on it. I’ve also cloned your phone and have everything up to now that we might need as evidence. So you can carry on using it in case you get any further messages. I’ve requested a cell site analysis for Gabby’s phone, so we’ll know which mast it triangulated to when those messages were sent to you.’

  Morgan liked to think she was pretty up to date with stuff, but this was way above her head.

  ‘I’m sorry, you’ve done what?’

  ‘When an analysis is carried out, it checks which phone masts the phone was nearest when it was turned on and sending the message. It usually has a choice of three but will automatically choose the nearest mast with the strongest signal. We can then triangulate the three masts and come up with a three-kilometre radius of where the phone was used.’

  ‘Can’t you just track it to wherever it is?’

  Darcy laughed. ‘If we were the FBI or MI5 possibly, but we don’t have that kind of technology available to us at the moment.’

  Morgan stifled a yawn; her head was pounding and she was tired. She also needed to speak to Stan. Isaac had said that everything could be due to some kind of childhood trauma she was blocking out. Maybe something happened that she didn’t remember; once she knew, it might put an end to the ridiculous early morning wake up calls and nightmares she never remembered. The only thing was: would he tell her if anything had happened or would he be too embarrassed in case it showed him in a bad light?

  ‘So you can use your phone for now. I’ve shown Ben how to use the software to download everything from it. There would be little point taki
ng a point of contact away from the killer. It’s a bit scary for you though, isn’t it?’

  After what she’d been through the last couple of months it felt as if this was another level of scary that she never even knew existed. ‘Well, you know where I am if you need me. I’ve put my number in your contacts list: my own number not my work one. I only work days because of the budget cuts or if there’s a rush job on.’

  ‘Can we not use Find My iPhone? Or some other kind of tracker? What about location services?’

  Morgan had found her second wind.

  ‘I tried, whoever it is has the phone switched off or on airplane mode. They’ve also turned off the location tracker. Our boy knows what he’s doing, which is why you need to be very careful.’

  ‘He’ll only come out to play when he’s ready.’

  Darcy nodded. Morgan realised the magnitude of what she had been drawn into: a killer was messaging her for fun.

  Her head began to spin and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. The room was too stuffy; she needed fresh air. Crossing to the window behind her desk, she pushed it open as far as it would go and stuck her head between the gap.

  Ben’s deep voice was full of concern. ‘Morgan?’

  ‘I’m good, I just need a bit of air.’

  ‘I’ll get going then. Same applies, Ben. If you need to speak to me about anything ring my mobile. Don’t wait until the next time I’m in work.’

  ‘Thanks, Darcy, I really appreciate this.’

  She heard the office door open and close. There was only the two of them. Footsteps as Ben crossed towards her vibrated the floor.

  ‘So what’s going on with you? Darcy is right, this is some messed-up stuff.’

  ‘Where’s Amy?’

  ‘Gone to take statements from the landlord and his girlfriend at The Golden Ball.’

  Sucking in a couple of gulps of the damp, fresh air she turned around. ‘I went to see her cousin’s boyfriend. He also said he’d heard about the murder and was devastated at the senseless loss of life.’