by Helen Phifer
TWENTY-SIX
Morgan felt better in herself. She was still shocked at Gabby’s murder and the fact that her killer had chosen to communicate with her out of everyone, but she felt more at peace. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she was finally getting professional help with her insomnia, that she and Stan were getting along much better and working hard to repair their broken relationship, or that she was going to be staying at Ben’s for a few days. There was no denying she liked him; he was funny and being with him was enjoyable. He was good company and caring for a boss. She couldn’t ask for anyone better to work with. She reached Ben’s house moments before his car arrived and smiled to herself, thinking about the first time she came here; worried for Ben’s welfare, she had thrown a brick through his window. She didn’t know if he was ever going to let her forget that. Waiting for him to get out first, she grabbed her overnight bag from the back seat and slung it over her shoulder. Ben hurried towards her, reaching out to take it from her.
‘Christ, that’s heavy. What’s in it?’
‘My face masks. I thought we could have a pamper session.’
He looked at her in horror, and she laughed. ‘And you thought I was gullible. I won’t put you through that. Not unless you want to.’ She winked at him. ‘Where are we with the case now?’
‘Hmm, just make sure you warn me first so I don’t get the fright of my life. We’ve spoken to Isaac Cross on the off chance he could help us out with some kind of offender profile. But he didn’t have anything specific he could tell us. It was an idea, probably a stupid one.’
‘It’s not. I think that’s great that you asked him. It’s a shame he isn’t a forensic psychologist.’
‘Yeah, we could do with Cracker on the case. There was one thing he said that was interesting though: he seems to share your opinion that this isn’t some random, one-off killing.’
‘Ah, I take it that wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but it’s a possibility we have to consider. Who’s Cracker?’
They reached the front door and Ben unlocked it, pushing it open for her to step inside.
‘I’m showing my age. You’ve never heard of the television show? It was big in the nineties; Robbie Coltrane played him. You know who he is, don’t you?’
She shook her head.
‘Christ I feel ancient. He played Hagrid in Harry Potter. Anyway, excuse the mess and the dust. I don’t really do housework.’
Morgan thought it looked lovely, he’d painted and cleaned up; it was much nicer than the last time she was here. There was no mess that she could see from the entrance hall. She waited for him to follow her. He did, shutting and locking the door behind him.
‘I only have a couple of house rules. You keep the windows and doors locked at all times, even when I’m here. At least until we have a better idea of who we’re dealing with and why they’re sending you messages. You don’t let anyone in you don’t know or you don’t know very well.’
Morgan nodded. She knew he was thinking back to her letting a killer into her apartment not that long ago and what an almost deadly mistake that had been.
‘I won’t, I promise.’
‘And you don’t tell anyone that you’re staying here. Amy knows, because it was her suggestion, but the fewer people we tell the better it is.’
She nodded, wondering if he was embarrassed to have her here and didn’t want anyone from work knowing about it, or whether he was being overly cautious and concerned for both of their safety. He pointed to the door to the left.
‘You can use that as a lounge; there’s a sofa in there but no TV. It’s a great place to read; in fact, that’s all you can do in there really, or use your laptop. If you need to watch the TV then use this room.’
He pointed to another, identical, pine door opposite. ‘That one has a sixty-inch TV, an Xbox and Netflix, but don’t mess my games up if they’re on. Apart from that you’re good to go. Use the place as you want. I don’t mind which bedroom you choose. I’m not fussy. I’ll sleep anywhere, and if you get the urge to cook I won’t hold it against you.’
Morgan began to laugh. ‘Blimey, have you ever watched Fawlty Towers? You sounded just as welcoming as John Cleese when he played Basil Fawlty.’
Ben grinned. ‘That good, eh? I love Fawlty Towers; it’s a classic. I’d have thought you were a bit young to remember it. How come you know that but not Cracker then?’
‘My mum, she loved it. Would watch reruns of it on Gold in an afternoon and giggle away to herself. I never really understood it, until one day after she’d died I was in the house alone and switched the TV on, to see Basil Fawlty striding around. I sat down and watched it. I wanted to know what was so funny and before long I was laughing so hard and crying at the same time. In a good way though, you know, happy memories mingled in with the sad. It felt as if she was there, sitting next to me on the sofa. I wish we’d done that more. It’s the simple things you really miss when someone is gone; all the stuff you take for granted.’
Ben reached out both arms and pulled her towards him, hugging her in an awkward fashion for the briefest of moments before releasing her. He wished he could have hugged Cindy more. He missed her so much.
‘Thanks, I needed that.’
‘Have you eaten? I’m starving.’
‘I did, sorry.’ She didn’t feel comfortable telling him she’d met Dan for a late lunch. She knew he disliked him with a passion and didn’t want to cause any bad feeling between them. Especially not when she was stopping in his house.
‘Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to make an announcement every time you eat. I can sort myself out. I’ll grab a bag of crisps.’
Morgan felt awful. ‘You can’t survive off crisps.’
‘Said who? I’ve been managing quite nicely, thank you very much. You get pretty much every flavour, mix a few bags together and you end up with the equivalent of a crisp roast dinner, without having to wash a single pot.’
‘Urgh, that’s disgusting and lazy.’
He shrugged. ‘Works for me.’
‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘For this, for letting me stay and being so nice to me even when I’ve been a pain in the backside.’
He laughed. ‘You might not thank me if my snoring keeps you awake all night. I’m going to make some sandwiches. I’ll make extra and wrap them in foil. Help yourself if you get hungry.’
He headed towards the kitchen, and she went upstairs with her bag to choose one of the spare rooms. She opened doors. One was a home office/bedroom, another was a bedroom which was full of boxes. There was another, but it was too close to Ben’s. She didn’t want to hear every noise he made in the night. She also didn’t want him to have to hear her thrashing around in her sleep. And when she woke up early, she didn’t want to disturb him when she crept downstairs. The room with the desk was the furthest away, so she hauled her bag and threw it on the bed. She sat down next to it. Kicking off her shoes, she lifted her feet onto it. It was so comfortable she didn’t want to move. As she lay there thinking through everything that had happened the last couple of days, she felt an overwhelming tiredness consume her entire body, even though it was a few hours yet till her usual bedtime. She didn’t even realise what was happening as she allowed her eyelids to close for a couple of moments as her body gave in and let her sleep.
TWENTY-SEVEN
He followed her from a distance along the A591. She’d stopped off at a small country lane and the man had got out, waved and disappeared down it. He followed her all the way to Rydal Falls and watched her, not quite believing where she was heading. Parked along the quiet road, she drove through the gates of the large house which he knew had been turned into three apartments. She got out of her car and let herself in through the front door. He’d looked around one of the apartments himself when he’d been thinking about moving but had decided against it. On one hand he couldn’t have asked for anything better because he knew the layout without having to do any res
earch. On the downside, he also knew the copper he’d been texting off G’s phone lived in the ground-floor apartment, which kind of threw him a little. She had been involved in a serious attack a few months ago and her apartment had been splashed all over the local paper. It made it very dangerous. He couldn’t text her from anywhere in this area because no doubt they were now monitoring Gabby’s phone. If they tracked it to this area, it would make it a no go for definite. They would be watching her for sure and waiting for him to turn up so they could catch him.
He turned around and drove off before anyone spotted him. He was going to have to think carefully about this one and revaluate whether the risk it posed to him was going to be worth the pay-off. He’d never expected E to live in this part of Rydal Falls. He thought she’d live in Kendal nearer to the college. But perhaps it was serendipity at its finest. His stomach a mass of churning knots, he didn’t know if it was excitement at the risk following through with this would pose, or the fear of messing it all up and getting caught before he’d finished what he had to do.
He went home, needing some time to think things through. He had to be sure he wasn’t letting his ego take over, because sometimes it did and he ended up in a bit of bother because of it.
His phone rang and he answered it.
‘Have you finished work yet and are you coming to the pub?’
It was a simple enough question, one he should have been able to answer, but his brain felt as if it was in a different zone to the rest of his body.
‘Hello, are you listening to me?’
‘Yes, of course I am. I don’t know, I’m a bit busy.’
‘Suit yourself; we’re here if you change your mind.’
The line went dead and he didn’t know what to do. He knew he should go to the pub. It was the best thing to do; it was good to give the impression that you wanted to be with your mates. Even though it was the last place he wanted to be and they were only his mates because it suited him, not because he really liked them, he decided to get changed and go for a pint: a bit of conversation and then he’d come home to make his decision.
As he walked into the pub, he was surprised to see one of the regulars who hadn’t been in a while, an older guy called Stan who had cleaned himself up, sitting at the bar. Sitting in front of him was a pint and a whisky chaser. That was the thing with living in such a small community: everyone knew your business whether you wanted them to or not. Sometimes they knew more about your life than you did. It could be frustrating and for him dangerous. He really liked his next potential target, but the fact that she lived in the same block of flats as the copper hunting him made things far more complicated than he liked. Maybe he could choose another victim.
He saw his friends by the pool table and lifted his hand, then pointed to the bar. They all shook their heads, so he was in for a cheap round. He stood next to Stan who was still staring at his drinks.
‘Rough day?’
He nodded, then lifted his gaze and smiled. ‘Oh hi, how are you?’
‘Judging by the way you’re staring at that pint, I’m probably a lot better than you.’
Stan laughed, but it was strained. ‘Yep, probably. Can I ask you for a bit of advice? This is strictly between you and me, by the way.’
‘Ask away. I don’t know if I can give you the answer you’re looking for though, and you’re probably not going to find it in those glasses either.’
‘Hypothetically, if you ever adopted a kid and you knew something bad had happened to them before they came to you, but you never brought it up or discussed it with them, would you tell them if they asked years later? Would you tell the truth or lie, even if it was for their own good?’
He blew out his cheeks. ‘Wow, that’s a big one, Stan. I suppose it depends on the severity of what happened and if it’s having an impact on their life now.’
‘It’s a huge one. I’ve let my daughter down most of my life. We’re just getting back on track, but we never told her that she was adopted, and this is going to tear such a huge hole in her heart. I don’t think we’d ever recover from it, and I don’t want to lose her again when I’ve only just found her.’
He looked at the pain in Stan’s eyes. He could feel it radiating off his body in waves and it was quite intoxicating. He felt a spark of excitement as an idea began to form in his mind.
‘You have to do what’s best, what you can live with. If you can face your daughter, knowing what you know, then I wouldn’t say anything if it’s eating at you this much.’ He pointed to the glasses of alcohol in front of him. ‘Then for your own sake, you might have to come clean, tell her, and live with it. I’m pretty sure, even if she’s mad at you, once she gets over the shock she’ll come around and thank you.’ He ordered a pint of lager and paid his money to the barmaid.
‘I have to go see my friends. Good luck, Stan, with whatever you decide.’
‘Thanks.’
He joined his friends at the pool table, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Stan.
TWENTY-EIGHT
When Morgan’s eyes opened she had no idea where she was and sat bolt upright in the bed, causing a wave of dizziness that took her breath away. It was still dark outside. She reached out for her phone, the backlight illuminating the desk and bookshelves opposite her. Her shoulders dropped and she sighed. Ben’s. She was at his house, in his spare room. How had she got to bed? She didn’t even remember saying good night to him. She sat there for a few moments, willing her breathing to slow down and waiting for the spinning inside her head to ease off. From somewhere down the hall, she could hear gentle snores and found it comforting. It was nice not to be alone, especially not with everything that was happening. Which reminded her: she checked her phone to see if there had been any further messages from Gabby’s missing phone. There was one from Stan.
Night Morgan, love you. I think we need to talk, come see me when you can. I’d rather talk in person. You could come for tea if you like, I’m a dab hand at beans on toast. Xxx.
She didn’t text him back, not at four thirty in the morning, but she would later. What was that about: they needed to talk in person? It was a bit cryptic for Stan. She wondered if he had something awful to tell her. Maybe he’d remembered something from her childhood that might explain the bad dreams and early mornings. Grabbing her clean clothes and toiletry bag, she crept along the hallway to the bathroom. Ben’s door was closed and she could hear him snoring, so hopefully she wouldn’t disturb him.
By the time Ben’s alarm began to sound a couple of hours later, Morgan had cleaned the kitchen, put the recycling out and was in the process of making breakfast when she heard the shower turn on in the bathroom. When Ben came downstairs dressed in a shirt and tie, to a full English breakfast and a sparkling house, he looked at her and muttered: ‘Wow. You’ve been busy.’
She shrugged. ‘Had to do something to fill my time. I don’t want you thinking I’m taking advantage of your good nature.’
Smiling, he shook his head. ‘This was Amy’s idea. You didn’t ask to come here. But I’m glad you did, not that I expect you to clean up and make my breakfast every morning. This is a nice surprise though. It’s been awhile since I’ve had company who cooked for me.’
Morgan detected a shadow of pain cross his face, only for a split second, and she realised he was meaning Cindy.
‘Did I overstep?’
‘No, you did not. Thank you, but honestly cereal is fine and I can fix it myself.’
‘Yeah, after our conversation about a roast dinner flavoured crisp, I’m not so sure about that.’
‘You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?’
She shook her head. ‘Never. So what’s the plan for today?’
‘We’re going on a road trip?’
‘We are, to where?’
‘HMP Manchester, the prison formerly known as Strangeways.’
‘Why?’
‘I got a call last night. DNA from the crime scene came back as a match for a guy ca
lled Gary Marks.’
‘That’s fantastic. We have a hit and know who the killer is. Wow, amazing. Why didn’t you tell me yesterday? Why haven’t we arrested him yet and why do we need to go to the prison?’
‘Woah, slow down. That’s where we hit a bit of a snag. He’s a prisoner and has been locked up since 1999.’
Her mouth fell open. ‘I don’t get it.’
‘Me neither, but we need to go speak to him and find out why a match for his DNA has turned up.’
‘What’s he in prison for?’
‘Have you heard of the Riverside Rapist?’
‘Vaguely, I was a kid I think. I remember hearing things over the years, but never really took much notice because it was before my time.’
‘He raped three women by the River Rothay. He used to tell his wife he was night fishing. Only he wasn’t: he was out preying on women who were out walking, jogging or in the area. His wife figured out what he was doing and he killed her. She kept a record of what she’d found, though, which he didn’t know about and they put him in the frame for the rapes. Not to mention they found his DNA on all three victims.’
‘Jesus, that’s horrific.’
‘Yeah, it was awful. We need to go visit him and find out what’s happening and if he has any connection to Gabby Stevens’s murder.’
‘It’s a long shot. What are you expecting to find out?’
He shrugged. ‘Who knows, but we can’t ignore it.’
They ate in silence. Morgan had suddenly lost her appetite and had to force herself to eat. She didn’t know what to think, this was so confusing and such a mess.
TWENTY-NINE
