‘The landlady, Sally Parker, found the body after my phone call to her. When she found the body she was frozen to the spot… Quite literally in fact.’
She sat perched on the edge of a desk after she’d circulated the photographs, and waited until everyone had at least glanced at them before continuing.
‘Out of the twelve rooms in the B&B, ten were occupied. There were fourteen guests listed and they’re currently giving statements, and we’ve got uniform on a house-to-house, but reports have already come in that a woman, matching the description of Amelia Williams, was seen in the neighbourhood. Matthews is already in the process of going through the CCTV footage from the area.’
She looked at the crime scene photographs in front of her on the incident room’s wall. She looked at the file photograph of Amelia and shook her head.
‘Miss Parker was heard screaming by most of the guests, who rushed out onto the landing. It was then that Parker was found by the other guests in room eleven, screaming after discovering Hawthorne’s body.
‘Several attempts were made to remove her from the room, but she sat on the floor and refused. As it happens, she later told me, she’d been too frightened to move. She was paralysed to the spot with fear. She’s going to need ongoing counselling for the foreseeable future.’
She shifted against the table, letting her words sink in. ‘Early indications show that Hawthorne had been dead no longer than half an hour before being discovered. Maybe even less than that as the body was still quite warm. Hawthorne was almost certainly surprised while he was asleep; he had no defence wounds and there were no signs of a struggle.
‘The killer entered the room through the door after picking the lock. The Principal SOCO at the scene said there was barely a scratch on the lock, indicating the killer used professional tools and had some experience in lock-picking.’
She paused and took a sip of water, swallowing hard. ‘We know that Hawthorne’s hands were tied, due to the ligature marks and bruising around his wrists.’ She held up a close-up shot of the dead man’s hands.
‘Hawthorne most likely died from asphyxiation. Although we’ll need clarification from the PM results, I suspect he was stabbed first, with a very sharp instrument in the abdomen, before being choked to death with a rosary which had been forced into his mouth.’ Claire held up another photograph showing a small cross, caked in dried blood.
‘This cross is identical to the one found in Wainwright’s throat.’
She looked at the expectant faces watching her.
‘As with Wainwright, Hawthorne’s body was then mutilated, the flesh of the chest sliced back, exposing part of the bone of the ribcage, but with a subtle difference… Hawthorne was first dragged into the bathroom before being cut open, with what we expect was the same instrument used on Wainwright and Miller.
‘Lastly, Hawthorne’s body was moved again, after the mutilation; hung up in the bath, tied by his wrists to the shower rail, his ankles bound, then draped outside the bath.’
She held up the last shot in the air and heard a few gasps. ‘I don’t need to explain the symbolism, you can see for yourselves.’
There were a few more murmurs, out of shock more than anything else. Claire had been so close to preventing this grim outcome.
‘The killer is evolving…using more force, becoming more savage, and the killer’s message is growing stronger. Why else reposition the body? There’ll be some kind of finale if we can’t stop this and soon.’
Stefan shifted in his seat. ‘Maybe if the Jenkins girl had been more forthcoming sooner, we could’ve avoided this.’
Claire looked at the floor. ‘She didn’t know.’ Her eyes rose to meet his. ‘We can’t blame her. As soon as we locate Williams, I’ll be happy.’
Michael pulled a face, his eyes looking back from Claire’s to Stefan’s. ‘Jenkins girl?’ he said, leaning forward.
Claire looked at him, her face stern. ‘So glad you’ve been paying attention, Michael.’
He cast her a dark look.
‘We pulled in Chloe Jenkins last night. We were too late… We could’ve prevented another murder.’
Michael took a moment to absorb the information. ‘And Williams?’
‘Amelia Williams is our prime suspect.’
CHAPTER 69
It was just coming up to noon when Mark Jenkins sat down to have his lunch. His wife Samantha was in the kitchen fussing over the cat and Emily, he assumed, was at college.
He hadn’t felt well that morning so had called in sick. He sensed that the head hadn’t believed him. Jenkins couldn’t blame her really for being less than sympathetic. It would be her job to find another teacher willing to cover his classes throughout the day, and he knew there wouldn’t be many takers.
He switched on the television and the lunchtime news filled the screen. He paid little attention to the newsreader as he bit into his tuna sandwich, and only when he heard the headlines for the day’s top stories did he look up.
He stared open-mouthed as the reporter detailed yet another gruesome death of a man who used to be a priest.
A man who used to be his friend.
Jenkins cried out as a photograph of Hawthorne flashed up on the screen, followed by a media frenzy of reporters surrounding the Newport B&B.
He saw Claire pushing past reporters, refusing to comment further on the crime scene before she got into her car.
Then the reporter flashed up again and revealed that police had issued a photograph and the name of a woman they wanted to speak to urgently in connection with the murder.
Jenkins froze, his eyes growing wide as the picture flashed on the screen. He repeated the name over and over in his head, until he cried out loud, like a dog in pain.
Samantha rushed into the room.
‘What on earth’s the matter?’ She stared at his pale face before looking at the television.
After a few moments the story changed to other news, and she looked back at Jenkins, shaking her head. ‘That can’t be right.’ Her voice sounded small and soft. ‘Not David…’
Jenkins stood slowly and tried to call Manuela, but received no answer. He sat back in his chair and stared at the wall. Not until Samantha was at his side, with her arms around him, did he speak.
‘I need to speak to the police, Sam.’ He felt her body stiffen against him, and he saw her eyes looking into his, confusion on her face. ‘It’s Amelia,’ he said. ‘She’s alive, Sam.’
She pulled away from him and shook her head. ‘That’s impossible.’ Her demeanour had changed, anger growing over her usually soft exterior.
Jenkins looked sad, his hand reaching for the telephone again, and nodded his head in her direction.
‘She’s back, Sam,’ he said, as he dialled the number that had appeared on the screen moments before. ‘She’s back from the dead.’
CHAPTER 70
Matthews had been reluctant to take the call patched through from the call centre, until he heard it was about information regarding Amelia Williams.
He took the call straight away and passed the information straight to Claire, interrupting her briefing.
He saw her eyes burn into his as he entered the room, but her demeanour quickly changed as soon as she read his handwritten note. She looked at him and Matthews thought he detected just a hint of a smile.
Claire addressed her team.
‘Mark Jenkins has come forward to offer information on Williams.’
‘Have you located her yet?’ Stefan said to Matthews.
‘Officers are going to her flat now.’
‘Good,’ Claire said, and turned to her team. ‘Jane, I want you to contact social services, Thames Valley Police and the Herts Probation Trust HQ in Stevenage. Chloe Jenkins said she heard Williams was held at Stokebrook Secure Hospital in Buckinghamshire last year, but didn’t know why. If she was definitely a patient there and she’s out, she must be reporting to and being assessed by someone… You don’t end up in Stokebrook for nothing.’
‘I’ve just spoken to Thames Valley Police,’ Matthews cut in. ‘I’m waiting for a call back. There was no one to bloody speak to me.’
Jane scribbled a few notes and nodded. ‘I’ll put in a call to Stokebrook.’
Claire looked to Harper. ‘I want you to base yourself at Shrovesbury Manor. Manuela will most likely put up a fight – tell him it’s for his own protection.’ Harper nodded.
‘Matthews, how far along are we with getting the link between Brown and Hargreaves?’
‘We’ve been speaking to their known associates but they’re reluctant to say much.’
‘If there was a deal between Brown and Hargreaves, I want to know what it was.’ She eyed Stefan and Michael. ‘I need someone to re-interview Chloe.’
They looked at each other.
‘I’ll do it,’ Michael said, standing up.
‘Good. Try and get anything more you can out of her.’
‘Is the Jenkins girl still here?’
Claire shook her head. ‘No, she’s back at her flat. A family liaison officer is with her. Just see what you can get out of her but do it gently. She’s been through enough as it is.’
***
A few turnings from the Jenkins home, Stefan explained to Claire Jane’s findings about Connor’s Landscaping.
She slammed her hand against the steering wheel. ‘I fucking knew it!’
Stefan jumped in his seat. She caught him looking at her, bewildered. ‘I swear you have a problem and it’s medical.’
She allowed herself a small grin. ‘Don’t you see, Fletch? Manuela lied to me. I think I see why.’
‘You’ve lost me.’
‘It’s been staring us in the face from the beginning, ever since I got a copy of the letter left on Wainwright’s body.’
‘The Rose thing, you mean?’
‘I think I know where Rebecca Turner is, Fletch. Those priests had something to do with her disappearance and someone is dishing out payback.’
‘Williams is doing the payback, yeah?’
‘Don’t be fooled, Fletch. I know she looks like butter wouldn’t melt. You heard what Chloe said.’
‘I just can’t envisage her pulling Hawthorne up in the bath and tying him to the shower rail on her own. Hawthorne had to be, what, six stone heavier than Williams. That’s a lot of dead weight to be hauling.’
‘You think I haven’t seriously considered the involvement of this Stephen already? Of course he’s involved, I just can’t figure out yet to what extent. We need to find him.’
Stefan looked embarrassed; he knew Claire would have thought of every possibility.
As they pulled into the Jenkins’ driveway, the front door opened. Mark Jenkins appeared in the doorway, arms folded tightly across his chest, a grim pout etched upon his face.
He tapped the watch at his wrist.
Stefan and Claire exchanged glances.
‘Guess Diego wasn’t exaggerating,’ said Stefan through gritted teeth.
CHAPTER 71
As Michael parked his car in a visitor space, he looked up at the tower block and was filled with trepidation.
He heard loud music pulsating from open windows. He saw evidence of damage caused by kids, fly-tipping, and there were cigarette butts piled in the doorway to the block. He heard some shouting and swearing from a woman at someone Michael assumed was her kid, judging by the young cries which sounded afterwards.
He considered himself lucky he now lived in a nice two-bedroom house, in a reasonably nice area of Haverbridge. He had no worry that his days would be interrupted by what he called ‘Urban Scum’, and people who were ‘thick as pig shit’, that seemed to plague the housing estates he had once been raised on and had later in life policed on a regular basis.
For every kid damaging property and ripping out the potty mouth, he could guarantee a dog-rough mother, on her fourth pregnancy and fifth partner, and understood why the youth were no longer brought up, but dragged up instead.
As long as they weren’t under their parents’ feet, it didn’t matter what they got up to, whose lives they made a misery, or what a strain they were on the housing system.
These people gave a bad name to honest hard-working families, who still held onto real family values for dear life, and Michael despised them, thinking back to his own childhood. Respect – there was none.
He walked towards the main door, and recognised the CID pool car poorly parked to one side on his left. The family liaison officer was still there.
As he went inside, he took the stairs rather than the lift, and soon regretted the strain the stairs placed on his thighs as the muscles burned.
When he reached the tenth floor, he stood to catch his breath. He caught a young pregnant girl looking at him as she pulled a pram out of her doorway from the flat next door to Chloe Jenkins’s.
He waited until she’d disappeared inside the lift before finally knocking on the door. After a few seconds, the door swung open.
‘Michael?’ said FLO Clara Stewart. ‘I didn’t think they were sending anyone else over.’
Michael shook his head. ‘DCI Winters wants me to take over from you, and ask Chloe a few more questions…and you do look like you need a rest.’ He smiled. ‘When did your husband last see you?’
Stewart laughed and ran a hand back through her hair. ‘He’s been calling quite a lot, don’t you worry.’ She glanced back into the flat. ‘Chloe’s asleep in the bedroom, been there for about an hour or so.’
Michael raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh, well, I don’t want to disturb her.’
‘I’ve just been checking on her every half hour. That’s all you need to do really if you’re going to wait until she wakes up on her own.’ Michael nodded and Stewart headed back inside the flat. ‘I’ll just get my stuff.’
Michael followed after her and took a seat in the small living room. The television was on but the volume was really low. Once Stewart had gathered her things she turned to him. ‘Give me a call when you’re done. I’m going back home for a few hours.’
‘No problem. Tell Rob I said hello.’
‘Will do,’ she said, as she shut the front door carefully.
***
After skipping the pleasantries, and refusing anything to drink, Claire and Stefan got down to business in the Jenkins family living room.
The television was on but the sound had been muted. Claire noticed it was on Sky News and saw the reports of Hawthorne’s murder running along the bottom of the screen.
Jenkins sat staring at the television, while Samantha never took her eyes from him.
‘You said you had important information that could aid our investigation, Mr Jenkins,’ Claire said. Jenkins looked up at her and nodded, but then looked back at the screen.
Stefan and Claire exchanged looks.
‘Look,’ said Claire. ‘We don’t have time for this. Two of your oldest friends have been murdered, brutally, not to mention six other bodies found in the recent weeks, which have strong links to this case. You said you had information on Amelia Williams, who we can’t locate, and you refused to give any information over the phone to DI Matthews.’
Jenkins looked at her and scowled.
‘You’ll have to forgive my husband, Chief Inspector,’ Samantha said from across the room. ‘We had thought for over a year that she was dead.’
The room fell silent
‘Dead?’ Stefan said, sitting forward in his chair.
‘Yes, we had it on good authority she was presumed dead.’
‘Whose authority?’ Claire said.
‘Thames Valley Police. After her escape from Stokebrook last year, police found a body washed up on shore in Cromer. The body was badly decomposed after being in the water for so long, but the police were sure it was her. Everything from her height, build, hair. There were no dental records for Amelia – they’d been removed, but the clothes were hers.’
She paused, as if taking it all in again for the first time. ‘We just assumed,�
�� she added, fighting back tears.
Claire absorbed the information, her brow furrowed.
‘I’ve spoken to your daughter, Chloe. She told me Amelia left of her own accord when she was sixteen, wanting nothing more to do with any of you. The social records back this up. How do you know all this? Amelia dropped off the grid. Chloe certainly didn’t know any of this.’
By this time Mark had sat up in his chair; having listened to his wife, he was eager to speak.
‘Just because she walked out on us doesn’t mean we didn’t care what became of her. She was a disturbed girl and it wasn’t long before she got herself into trouble. She stabbed a man up in the Glasgow area, nearly killed him.’
He shook his head as he remembered. ‘It was in all the papers. I forget all the particulars but she was declared unfit to stand trial and was placed in Stokebrook’s personality disorder unit from where she escaped. She murdered two people in the process.’
Claire and Stefan exchanged looks, not believing what they were hearing.
‘It wasn’t long before we had a visit from you lot,’ he continued, motioning with some disdain towards Claire, ‘asking us if she’d been in contact and the usual. Several months later a body shows up, matching her description, her clothes. Everyone assumed it had to be her.’
‘Had Amelia ever had links to that area?’ Stefan cut in.
‘What?’
‘She was found washed up on Cromer beach. That’s the Norfolk coast, why would she go there?’
Samantha spoke again before her husband could.
‘We had a few family holidays there. She loved Cromer, so it made perfect sense that if she wanted to…take her own life, she would do it somewhere she knew.’
There followed a long silence. Claire watched Mark biting his lower lip, frowning hard. A vein pulsated in his temple. He was deep in thought.
‘I think it’s about time you told us about the day Amelia left your family, Mr Jenkins,’ Claire said, ordering rather than asking.
She watched Jenkins’s face turn to hers, his cold eyes boring into hers.
‘I want to know everything.’
For All Our Sins: A gripping thriller with a killer twist (DCI Claire Winters, Book 1) Page 29
