Dead to Me: A serial killer thriller (Detective Kate Matthews Crime Thriller Series Book 1)

by Stephen Edger

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  She kept her voice low. ‘Nothing’s wrong. Just go to your room and close the door. If you hear me shout, I want you to hide in the cupboard. Do you understand?’

  Chloe’s face was a picture of confusion, but she nodded and left the kitchen. Kate reached for the block of knives on the counter, cursing when she realised the largest was still under her pillow in the bedroom. She grabbed the second biggest and made her way unsteadily to the front door, putting one eye to the peephole and calling out. ‘Who is it?’

  The man in the corridor was dressed in blue overalls and was wearing a baseball cap, pulled low over his face. ‘Zack Engles, luv. You emailed me for a burglar alarm quote? You said it was urgent.’

  ‘Have you got any identification? A business card or something?’

  She watched as he reached into his overalls and pulled out a wallet. He pushed a business card through the letter box. She collected it from the mat and studied the company name and logo. It was one of the two companies she’d found online on Thursday night. She quickly hid the knife out of sight in the unit in the hallway and opened the door.

  Engles entered and introduced himself properly. ‘I hope you don’t mind me just turning up? I like to get a feel for the place so I can give a proper quote. Competition is fierce and a lot of my rivals will quote one thing but, when the final invoice arrives, they’ll up the price, citing unforeseen complications. By checking the place first, I can tell you exactly how much work will be involved and how much it’ll set you back.’

  Kate nodded, but wasn’t really listening. She gave him a brief tour and then they reconvened in the kitchen, where he scribbled the quote on headed paper and handed it over. ‘Now, that price includes the cost of the parts, the cost of installation and VAT. How does it look?’

  She’d pay any price for peace of mind. ‘It’s fine. How quickly can you fit it?’

  He pulled out a small black diary and flipped through the pages. ‘It should be pretty straightforward to fit the model you selected; probably have it done in an afternoon for you. How about Thursday?’

  ‘Thursday? That’s too late. I need this fitting straight away.’

  He sighed. ‘I’m sorry, luv, I’m backed up all this week. I’ve got a commercial job I’m starting tomorrow, and that’ll keep me busy until Thursday.’

  She reached for his hand, his rough and broken skin in contrast to her own. ‘You don’t understand. I need this. There must be some way you can squeeze me in? What about tomorrow?’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t work Sundays, I’m afraid.’

  She squeezed his hand tighter. ‘Couldn’t you make an exception? I’ll pay double if that’s what it takes.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘The thing is, I think someone has been breaking in here while I’m asleep. I have a young daughter, and I’m scared that…’ She left the sentence dangling in the air.

  He shuffled awkwardly. ‘Listen, I’ll tell you what I’ll do, my son’s playing football in the morning, but I could come around after lunch. As I said, Sunday is usually my day off, but given the circumstances—’

  She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. She couldn’t be sure if it was a genuinely chivalrous act or whether the offer to pay double was what had persuaded him but, in that moment, it didn’t matter. She showed him to the door, and locked it behind him, fixing the security chain in place.

  Chloe emerged from her room. ‘Is the pizza here yet?’

  Kate’s shoulders relaxed for the first time in days, and she offered a sincere smile. ‘Not yet, but I’ll order it now. Cheese and tomato okay with you?’

  Chloe licked her lips.

  ‘Good. We’ll have the pizza and then I think it would be a good idea if you and I had an early night. I sure could do with a decent night’s sleep.’

  42

  SUNDAY

  Kate wasn’t aware of anything until the rag was forced into her mouth. As the panic set in, it was all she could do just to breathe furiously through her nose, trying not to gag on the ball of cloth and the stink of cigarette smoke that surrounded her. She thrashed about the bed to find her hands bound tightly to the bedposts. Someone was at the end of the bed working with what sounded like tape to try and secure her feet. She kicked out wildly, twisting her body to impossible angles to break free. Without looking up, he dropped a pointy elbow into her gut, winding her long enough to secure her legs together and hold her in place. She howled into the rag as soon as the air refilled her lungs, fighting with everything she had. But it was too late, she knew she was trapped.

  Blinking frantically she willed her eyes to adjust to the night, desperate to make out some feature of her attacker. He must have noticed, because moments later she felt the squirt of something wet catching her eyes before she had a chance to clamp them shut. An excruciating burning sensation erupted across her face as her vision went cloudy and hot tears streamed in rivers down her face. She forced them open and closed as quickly as she could, but the agony was too intense; it was as if someone was holding a flame against her retinas. Her screams were barely audible through the material.

  ‘The pain will pass in a moment,’ he said in a strained whisper beside her. ‘Then we’ll talk.’

  Her mind was racing as she tried to focus on his voice. Was it familiar? Forcing her eyes open once more, she saw nothing but a white mist and greyish contours around his profile. He’d blinded her. Temporarily, or for ever, she didn’t know but the burning was passing. She could still feel the tears dripping from her face.

  She lay still, her heart hammering in her ears as the reality of her situation hit. She concentrated on her breathing, determined not to antagonise him further. He must have sensed what she was thinking, crouching down beside her and leaning in until he was barely an inch from her face. The cigarette stench was unbearable, his voice broken.

  ‘I won’t hurt Chloe if you do what I tell you. I’m going to remove the rag from your mouth in a minute. If you make any attempt to scream or shout, I will drag her in here and I will tape her right next to you.’

  She whined through the rag and felt the cold pressure of the blade as he pressed it against her exposed throat and slid it up beneath her chin. She was powerless to stop him.

  ‘Don’t make me use this,’ he croaked.

  She felt his fingers prise her lips further apart as they reached in and gripped the soggy rag, causing her to retch as he yanked it out.

  ‘Remember what I said. Don’t scream.’

  ‘Get the fuck out of my house!’ she spat, as saliva drained back into her mouth.

  ‘Fenton is still free. You have the picture of him with the possible murder weapon. He should be in custody by now.’

  ‘Why him? What do you want?’

  The bed rocked as he leaned away to heave out a series of deep, painful coughs.

  Kate spoke quickly once he’d recovered. ‘It’s not my case. You need to speak to DI Hendrix. She doesn’t think Fenton did it. She thinks it’s Jimmy T—’

  He growled in to her ear. ‘That’s bullshit! Fenton was the one responsible.’

  ‘I believe you, but it’s not my case. Let me go!’

  ‘You’re a police officer. I gave you the picture of him with the weapon he used to kill Watson. Do your job!’

  She forced herself to remain calm, to keep him talking long enough to let slip some clue to his identity. ‘How do you know all this? Do you work for him?’

  ‘He keeps the weapon at his home in Chilworth. It usually hangs on his bedroom wall, but he has taken it down to hide it. He knows you have a warrant to search his properties—’

  ‘How does he know?’

  ‘Men like Fenton have spies everywhere.’

  ‘Is that what you are? A spy in his organisation? Is that why you want me to arrest him?’

  ‘You should worry less about me, and more about your daughter.’

  She froze, lowering her voice again. ‘Please don’t hurt her. I’ll do whatever yo
u want, just leave her alone.’

  ‘You need to get to Fenton’s place today.’

  Her heart raced. ‘I can’t just carry out an illegal raid; anything we found would be inadmissible in court. There are procedures, protocols that need to be followed—’

  ‘I don’t care. Tomorrow will be too late! He has arranged for the weapon to be removed today.’ He paused to cough again, wheezing out the final few before finishing. ‘It will be destroyed and then you will never be able to prove beyond a doubt that he was the one who killed Watson in that warehouse.’

  She yanked on the tape around her wrists, but they remained firm. ‘It’s not that easy.’

  ‘Well, you’d better think of something; if you don’t collect it today, you’ll let yet another villain walk free. Is that really what you want?’

  She felt the blade pressed harder against her skin and stopped struggling. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll do it.’

  ‘That’s good. And remember, if you don’t, it’ll be Chloe’s body you’ll find taped to the bed frame, and next time I will use my knife.’

  Before she could speak again, he shoved the rag back into her mouth and sawed through the restraints on her hands above her. She dived blindly towards the door, reaching for any part of him, but she crashed to the floor, her feet still bound to the bedposts.

  43

  ‘TRISH!’ Kate thumped her fist against the door for a second time.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ a voice called from inside. ‘Jeez, don’t you realise what time it is?’ The door opened, and a bleary-eyed Trish stood framed by the light from inside her flat. ‘Oh, Kate, it’s you. Were we supposed to be meeting and I’ve forgotten?’

  Trish had arrived home in the early hours while Kate had still been awake; when she’d finally managed to untie her legs in the darkness and found the strength to leave her room, she’d felt her way along the walls until she’d made it to Chloe’s room. And that’s where she’d remained for the rest of the night, trembling and alert, her eyesight returning just before six.

  ‘Trish, I’m sorry. I need your help.’

  Trish stifled a yawn then caught sight of the angry bloodshot eyes. ‘Jesus! What the hell’s happened to you?’

  Kate thought quickly. ‘I think I had an allergic reaction to something I ate.’

  Trish cocked a cynical eyebrow. ‘You really expect me to believe that?’

  ‘It’s true! I was up half the night vomiting, and at one point I couldn’t even see. I’ve had to take half a dozen antihistamines just to drag myself from bed.’

  ‘Good heavens, what can I do?’

  ‘I’ve been called into the office urgently, and I have no way of getting out of it. The thing is, Chloe is staying with me for a few days, and I was supposed to be off, but…’ She deliberately paused, waiting for Trish to jump in and fill the awkward silence. When Trish remained speechless, Kate continued. ‘The thing is, Trish, I wouldn’t ask, but…’

  Trish’s eyes widened, as she finally realised why her neighbour had woken her from a delicious dream. ‘No, no, no. You know where I stand with children—’

  ‘Please, Trish, I wouldn’t ask if there was anyone else who could help. You’re the only person in the world I trust enough to leave my little girl with.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Kate, but I didn’t get home until late, and I still need to unpack.’

  ‘Please, Trish?’

  ‘Plus, I have plans for today. I’m supposed to be playing tennis at eleven, and then going for lunch and drinks with Maggie.’

  Kate frowned. ‘You despise all forms of physical activity… and you hate Maggie!’

  Trish opened her mouth to speak, but then thought better of it.

  Kate pushed her advantage home. ‘Chloe is such a good girl; she won’t give you any trouble. She’s still asleep. All you need to do is put the television on and leave her to it. All I need is a responsible adult in the flat.’

  Trish snorted. ‘Responsible?’

  The dimples appeared as Kate smiled. ‘Believe it or not. Go on, Trish. I’ve left some cash on the counter in the kitchen, in case you want to take her to the cinema or out for food. Plus, there’s a box of wine in the fridge that I will share with you once I’m done with work.’

  ‘How long will you be?’

  ‘Just a few hours. I should be home after lunch. Please?’

  Trish closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘Fine! But I need to get dressed and fix my face first. And you owe me, missy. Next time I come calling and tell you we’re going out on the pull, I won’t accept any excuses.’

  Kate reached in and hugged her. ‘You’ve got a deal. I really do appreciate it.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re going into the office in your state. Are you sure you’re all right?’

  ‘I don’t have a choice, I’m afraid. I’ll be fine in a couple of hours.’

  ‘That place will put you in an early grave. You mark my words, young lady!’

  Trish didn’t realise how close to the truth she was.

  Kate waited anxiously by her door until she appeared on the stairs.

  ‘I cannot believe you got me out of bed before seven on a weekend!’

  She handed her the door key. ‘Help yourself to anything you want inside, and I’ll see you in a few hours. Oh, and one more thing: there’s a guy popping round at some point to install a burglar alarm.’

  ‘A burglar alarm? On a Sunday? For heaven’s sake, why?’

  ‘Just call me paranoid. It’s probably having Chloe in the flat that’s putting me on alert.’

  Trish seemed to buy the excuse. ‘Wait, does Chloe know I’m going to be watching her?’

  Kate screwed up her face. ‘Not exactly. She’s still asleep, and I didn’t want to wake her. Listen, you’ve got my number; if she gets upset, call me and I’ll explain it to her. But I’m sure you’ll be fine.’

  Kate didn’t wait for any further argument, racing down the stairs and out to her car. The sun was higher in the sky now, and already she could feel it was going to be a blistering day. She should have been making plans to take Chloe to the beach or something, but now wasn’t the time to feel guilty. If her attacker was right then they had to move quickly before Fenton disposed of the murder weapon. Even if he wasn’t right, she wasn’t prepared to risk his wrath.

  44

  Patel was scheduled to be off that day, but Kate wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see him reorganising the pods, or replacing a filter on that infernal coffee machine. She was relieved not to see his jacket hanging from the back of his chair.

  She had been even more relieved not to spot the superintendent’s BMW in the station car park when she’d arrived. He’d been pleased with the progress they’d made but she was yet to deliver a prime suspect, and until she did, that sceptical frown would remain whenever he looked at her.

  Her in tray was overflowing with a pile of paperwork – old case notes that needed reviewing and signing-off – but she had more important things to do. Turning her back to the supe’s office, and away from DCI Vaughn’s commemorative plaque on the wall beside her, she looked down to the far end of the office. Two of Underhill’s team were at their desks, studying their screens. She sighed in frustration.

  To search Fenton’s home, she’d need at least one other officer with her, ideally more, to save time, but a minimum of one. She didn’t know either of the two at their desks well enough to trust them not to tell Underhill what she was planning. They wouldn’t necessarily go behind her back to inform the supe, but one of them was bound to drop it into conversation with Underhill at some point, and he’d dob her in in a heartbeat.

  She knew she’d messed up. Patel had said she should have reported the online stalker. Maybe if she had, he wouldn’t have phoned or attacked her last night. But it was too late now. Even if she came clean, there was a chance she could lose her job for covering it up, for not reporting the photographs of Olivia Yen, and of Danny Fenton possibly holding the murder weapon. At the very least sh
e’d be bumped from the case; probably demoted.

  There was a voice in her head she was struggling to ignore. It was screaming to her that the man who had been antagonising her all week was the same man who’d beheaded Watson and drowned the nurse. She had no proof, of course, but how else had he got hold of that photograph of Olivia Yen in her nurse’s uniform? And how had he known Watson’s head and feet were severed with something like a machete? Only the police knew that.

  What if Danny Fenton had absolutely nothing to do with Watson being killed at the warehouse? Could she really send an innocent man to jail because some lunatic had threatened hers and Chloe’s lives?

  She swivelled her chair around and stared at the large whiteboard covering Hendrix’s investigation. She’d read the notes dozens of times already, but there had to be something else there she’d missed: Watson’s daughter put Fenton and her father at the scene; the pathologist had confirmed that a large blade had been used to sever Watson’s head and feet, and she had the photograph of Fenton with such a weapon; Fenton and Watson were known rivals, so was it so surprising that after a confrontation at the warehouse, one had killed the other? Add in the historic relationship between Fenton and Nicola Vyner, and there was the motive.

  But what if it was all too easy? What if the scene had been staged to look like that?

  ‘Morning, ma’am, didn’t expect to see you in today,’ Laura said, clutching several paper wallets to her chest.

  Kate turned, surprised. ‘Morning, Laura. How are you?’

  She stifled a yawn. ‘Knackered, but what else is new, right?’

  ‘How did yesterday go?’

  ‘Fine. I spent most of the day updating HOLMES2. I drew the short straw.’

  Kate had witnessed the benefits of the HOLMES2 database in action on more than one occasion. It was essentially a computerised system that stored various strands of information and allowed the SIO to find links and new lines of enquiry. As SIO she’d attended courses on how it should be used properly, but she knew what a burden it was on those inputting the data.

  ‘Well, if you fancy a break, let me know; I could do with an extra pair of eyes today.’