Detective Lucy Harwin 01-The Lost Children

by Helen Phifer

Lucy glared at him.

  ‘No, unfortunately not,’ the doctor replied with good humour. ‘I wish I was, though, because then I’d be living it up in Maine writing horror stories, instead of working a night shift and living them instead.’

  Lucy stood up and crossed the room, offering him her hand, which he shook firmly. ‘I’m sorry; forgive him. He tends to act much younger than he looks. I’m Detective Inspector Lucy Harwin and this is Detective Sergeant Matthew Jackson. We need to speak to Arnie Hope as a matter of urgency; he could be the key witness to a murder earlier tonight.’

  ‘Well, Detective Inspector, I can take you to him, but I don’t know if he’s regained full consciousness yet. He’s been in and out since he was brought in, and I do know the last time I checked he’d been taken down for a CT scan. If you follow me, we’ll go and see if he’s back.’

  ‘Thank you so much,’ she said. ‘Please call me Lucy. I’m not really into all the official bullshit.’

  He nodded and smiled at her. ‘Well, in that case, please call me Steve, because neither am I.’

  Lucy nudged Mattie in the side, warning him not to laugh. They followed him through the department until they reached a cubicle at the end, where a nurse was busy checking the young man’s blood pressure. The doctor held out his hand for the chart and gave it the once-over.

  ‘Is he up to talking, nurse?’

  ‘Yes, he’s awake. Aren’t you, Arnie?’

  The boy on the bed, who looked much younger than his nineteen years, opened one eye beneath the huge white bandage that was wrapped around his head.

  The doctor stepped closer to him. ‘How do you feel? I’m glad to see you’re awake.’

  ‘I’m OK as long as I don’t move my head.’

  ‘Good. These two detectives need to ask you a couple of questions. Is that OK?’

  Arnie went to nod his head and groaned. ‘Argh… I mean, yes.’

  Lucy stepped towards his bed. ‘Arnie, my name’s Lucy. Can you remember what happened?’

  ‘I don’t really know. I got out of the car and took the pizza box out of the bag. I’d only just stepped through the gate when I heard a rustling noise behind me and I got a whiff of strong aftershave. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor with the worst headache ever. It went black, and then I opened my eyes and I was here.’

  Mattie, busy scribbling in his notebook, looked up at Lucy.

  ‘Did you not deliver the pizza, then?’

  ‘No, like I said I can’t remember anything except hearing a noise behind me. I don’t know what happened to the pizza. Is my boss pissed off with me because it didn’t get delivered on time?’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘Of course not; he’s worried about you. Have you ever delivered to that address before?’

  ‘Yes, a few times. The woman that lives there is a right miserable cow. She always moans that it’s taken too long or it’s cold, and she never tips.’

  ‘When you parked up, did you notice anyone hanging around?’

  ‘No.’ Arnie shut his eyes and gulped. The nurse grabbed a cardboard sick bowl off the trolley and handed it to him. She looked at Lucy.

  ‘I think that’s quite enough for now. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.’

  Lucy nodded. ‘Thank you, Arnie. I’ll leave a card for you. If you need me or remember anything, please call me.’ She tucked the card under his pillow and he stuck his thumb up at her.

  The two detectives walked away with the doctor, who let them out of the exit doors. Mattie walked through without a second glance, but Lucy turned back to him.

  ‘Thank you so much, that was a huge help. I don’t think Arnie is in any danger, but until we catch whoever did this I’m going to arrange for a uniformed officer to come and sit outside his room. It’s just a precaution.’ She reached in her pocket and pulled out the last of her crumpled business cards. ‘The same applies to you – if Arnie remembers anything, or if anyone suspicious turns up, please can you ring me?’

  ‘Of course I will. It was very nice to meet you, Lucy.’

  She felt her cheeks begin to burn, knowing that Mattie, despite having his back to them, was listening to every word.

  ‘It was nice to meet you too, Steve,’ she said. ‘Normally doctors aren’t as accommodating or as helpful. I really do appreciate it.’ She walked off, letting Mattie follow her. He waited until they were outside before he started laughing.

  ‘Of all the places to get picked up, only you could do it questioning an assault victim in the hospital casualty department. You really crack me up, Lucy.’

  She glared at him. ‘Piss off. I did not get picked up. He was just very nice and helpful. You have to admit he made our lives a lot easier by letting us go in and talk to Arnie straight away. We could have been hanging around there for ages.’

  ‘He did it because he fancied the arse off you,’ Mattie said, getting out his car keys.

  ‘Shut up.’ She’d never admit it to Mattie, but she had found Stephen King very attractive. She bent down, scooped up a handful of the pure white snow that had now blanketed the floor, and threw it at the back of his head. Mattie, who had seen her from the corner of his eye, ducked and jumped into his pickup.

  ‘Right,’ Lucy said. ‘So we know that the killer took Arnie out first. Why?’

  ‘So he could pose as the pizza guy and get in the house.’

  ‘I think you’re right, that’s exactly what he did. He didn’t want to lure her outside and kill her where he might get caught, or scare her enough that she’d phone the police. This was a very organised kill. We are looking for someone who has spent some time planning this murder.’

  Mattie began to drive in the direction of the station.

  ‘Did he have his baseball cap on when he was attacked?’ Lucy continued. ‘If not, the killer removed it before he knocked him out, so that he didn’t get blood all over it and could dress up as the delivery guy to get the woman to open the door.’

  ‘Where’s that hat, then?’ Mattie said. ‘If the killer wore it, there might be hair inside it, and you know what that means.’

  ‘DNA. I bloody hope so because if there is, our life may just have been made a little bit easier. Let’s go and see if Jack’s still at the station. He probably is, because he’ll be making the most of his call-out. He’ll be able to tell us if the hat was found – and then we’re going home to try and grab a couple of hours’ sleep.’

  24

  The station was eerily quiet, so Mattie parked in the bay usually reserved for the marked vehicles.

  Lucy couldn’t stop thinking about what Arnie had said. He’d smelt aftershave. Why would you wear anything perfumed if you were going to kill someone?

  Mattie stopped to talk to a couple of uniforms who were coming out of the door, and Lucy carried on to the spiral staircase, taking her up to the first floor and the CSI office. The lights were on and the door was wide open. She knocked and walked inside.

  ‘I bet you’re knackered. I know I am. It’s been one hell of a long day.’

  Jack turned to look at her, nodding. ‘Did you speak to the kid?’

  ‘I did, he’s going to have one huge headache tomorrow. He said he was attacked as soon as he walked through the gate. He never even made it to the front door with the pizza. Was his baseball cap at the scene?’

  ‘It certainly was.’ Jack pointed to the large table, which had an assortment of evidence bags on it.

  ‘Is it covered in blood?’

  ‘Not a drop. However, I did find a hair inside it. I figured it was probably the kid’s, but I’ve got it ready to send off as well.’

  ‘That’s bloody brilliant; it’s probably Arnie’s but there’s a slight chance it could also be the killer’s. I think he waited to disguise himself with that hat so that the woman would open the door.’

  Mattie, who’d paused in the doorway to look at his phone, walked in. ‘Or it might have been pure chance that the pizza guy was there. The killer might have been going to kill her regardless.’


  ‘Unless she was a creature of habit and phoned the same pizza takeaway at the same time every week,’ Lucy said. ‘It’s possible, and the killer would have known this if he’d been watching her for some time.’

  ‘I still think it’s more likely just chance. Come on, Lucy, is there anything else we can do tonight? I’m knackered and we’re going to have to be back here early.’

  ‘No, I don’t think there is. Sorry to have had to call you out, Jack.’

  He held his hand up. ‘I can’t complain; it’s the first after hours call out I’ve had for a while and the extra money always comes in handy. I’ll get all this booked in and ready to be sent off to the lab first thing.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  They left him to it and went back to the car park.

  ‘Do you want a lift?’ Mattie asked.

  ‘I’m OK thanks,’ Lucy said. ‘I’ll take my car. You wouldn’t believe how many times I could have done with it tonight.’

  ‘Good night, Lucy.’

  ‘Night, Mattie.’

  She walked to her car and began brushing snow off the windscreen, wishing she had a pair of gloves. She got in and turned the engine on, blasting the heaters to warm it up and melt the rest of the snow. She wished with all her heart that she wasn’t going home to an empty house. Even Ellie being home would be better than being all alone.

  As soon as she could see out of the windows, she began the drive home. Her mind was a whirlwind of dead bodies; it was going to be a nightmare trying to switch off again. What was the connection between Audrey Stone and Edwin Wilkes? She wondered if they’d both worked at the asylum. Maybe they’d been lovers, or friends that were hiding some big secret. She didn’t know what the connection was yet, but she would. She loved her job. Catching criminals that was what she lived for. The thrill of it all, the satisfaction of putting someone behind bars, was like nothing she’d ever felt in any other part of her life.

  As Lucy drove up the hill to reach her house, she noticed the landing light was on. She was sure that she’d turned it off. Then again, after her rude awakening, she couldn’t be one hundred per cent positive that she had.

  She parked the car and opened the front door to her house, locking it behind her. The photograph on the hall table – the one of her and Ellie, taken at Scarborough on the promenade a couple of years ago – wasn’t in its usual position. It was only out by a little bit, but it had definitely been moved.

  Lucy felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. Someone was in her house. Taking out her phone, she kicked off her shoes and moved as quietly as she could through the downstairs, checking there was no one there. Everything else looked fine. The back door was locked. There were no open windows.

  She made her way to the stairs and crept up them. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she couldn’t hear herself think. She made it to the top without a sound, and began to check all the rooms, leaving her bedroom until last. When she opened the door to see it was just as she’d left it, she let out a sigh of relief. Everything was secure. And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

  Stop it now, you were fast asleep when the phone call came, she told herself. You probably didn’t even know that you’d left the light on, and you probably knocked the photo on the way out.

  No one could have been in unless they had a key or knew about the spare under the plant pot, and the only people with keys were Ellie and George. Lucy knew that George would never let himself in – that wouldn’t be like him. Ellie, on the other hand, would, but it was almost four in the morning. Surely she’d be tucked up in bed and fast asleep? Then Lucy thought about the group of teenagers at the hospital earlier – their parents probably thought that they were tucked up in bed as well. She would ring Ellie tomorrow and ask her if she’d been here, she decided, as she headed for her second shower of the night.

  Once she had showered, and with her pyjamas back on, she ran downstairs and poured herself a large vodka. If she didn’t have a drink to relax her, she’d toss and turn all night long until dawn broke – which wouldn’t be long. She needed some sleep to rest her brain and let it recharge itself. She began to sip at the vodka on the way upstairs, downing the rest as she reached her bedroom door. Not bothering to turn on the light, she climbed into her bed and snuggled under the king size duvet.

  25

  Lucy walked into the station, stifling a huge yawn. She got her radio out of the locker room and began the climb up to the first floor and her office. She needed coffee before she did anything. As she reached her desk and bent down to retrieve her mug from the drawer, she let out a loud groan. There was a bright yellow post-it note stuck to her computer monitor:

  ‘MY OFFICE NOW.’

  Taking her mug and the tin of expensive coffee she kept locked in her drawer, she considered sneaking back downstairs first to make a brew. She definitely needed some caffeine before the imminent conversation with her superior took place. Standing between Lucy and her coffee, though, was DCI Tom Crowe’s office. Just as she was about to make a break for it, she heard his door open. His loud voice filled the air. ‘Detective Inspector? A word, if you might.’

  Turning to face him, she smiled and waved her mug in his direction. ‘Coffee, sir?’

  ‘In a minute. My office now, DI Harwin.’

  As the DCI re-entered his office, Lucy caught sight of Mattie’s tanned face as he reached the top of the stairs. He looked good – too bloody good, considering how little sleep they’d had last night. When she’d looked in the mirror this morning, her pale face – which looked even paler framed by her blood-red hair – had stared back at her. The dark circles under her eyes made her look tired and awful. Mattie gave her his best sympathetic smile now, and she sighed as she began the short walk towards the DCI’s glass-fronted office. As she walked in, he was closing the blinds.

  This isn’t good, Lucy. It isn’t good at all.

  ‘Take a seat, Lucy. Stop hovering around. I’m not going to bite you.’

  Lucy didn’t know whether she believed him, because right now she felt like Little Red Riding Hood about to confront the wolf. She wasn’t sure why. As far as she knew, she hadn’t done anything wrong since she’d come back. She sat down on the chair opposite DCI Crowe’s desk.

  ‘I’ve had an email through from Sara Cross,’ he said. ‘According to her, you’re not engaging with her, and left your last session before you’d even taken your coat off. Would you care to tell me why?’

  ‘Sir, technically that wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘Really. Then whose fault was it?’ He clasped his fingers together and leant forward, across his desk.

  Lucy didn’t want to get Mattie in trouble. He’d called her in early when he should have let Browning take the case. ‘All right, mine,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to be there.’

  ‘The whole point of having counselling is for your benefit. Not mine, not the force’s. It’s for you. After that unfortunate incident with that madman, I find it hard to believe that it hasn’t affected you.’

  Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to block out the images of seven-year-old Isabella and her mother, Natalia. She might not have been able to save them, but she would do her best to save everyone else.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘You’re right. I will make sure I attend the next session.’

  ‘Good, because I had to fight hard to let them bring you back here, Lucy. They wanted to ship you off to headquarters to work in the control room on the bloody help desk. So it’s thanks to me that you’re still here. Anyway, enough of that. What’s happening with this mess you’ve managed to get entangled in already?’

  ‘As you know, there was a serious assault and another murder last night. A sixty-two-year-old woman in her own home was strangled with what looked like a pair of tights.’

  ‘I do know. It’s the first thing I was told the minute I turned my phone on this morning. So, is this murder connected to the other one? Or do yo
u think they’re completely separate incidents?’

  ‘I can’t say for definite, but yes, I do believe they’re connected. I have a hunch that these two knew each other and possibly worked together at some point – their ages would be right for this. I’m waiting for a staff list from when the asylum was a working hospital, which Colin should have for me this morning.’

  ‘So, how are we going to play this? Are we going to announce to the media that we may have a serial killer on the loose, killing respectable elderly members of the community? Or are we keeping a lid on it until we know for definite?’

  ‘Sir, you know we need three killings for a serial. I’m hoping we’ll catch whoever it is before it gets that far. Obviously there needs to be some kind of press release, but for now I want the possible connection and the victims’ identities keeping out of it – at least until we have proof of a definite connection.’

  ‘OK, I’ll let the press office at headquarters know to play it down as much as they can. I want you to be truthful with me, though: can you cope with this? If it’s too much for you too soon, I can get someone else to step in and give you a hand. Let them take away some of the pressure.’

  ‘Sir, I’m fine. I’ll ring Sara Cross and rebook my appointment. And I think once we do some digging into the history of the patients and staff from the asylum we will know a lot more.’

  He nodded. ‘Right then, that’s sufficient for now. I’ll have a builder’s tea with two sugars.’

  Lucy uncrossed her fingers, which were hidden behind her back, and felt her shoulders relax. That was her bollocking over with for now – although if they didn’t have someone in custody soon, things would get a whole lot worse. Today was about finding what the connection was between the victims.

  DCI Crowe passed her his mug. She picked her own up off his desk, along with the coffee, and headed towards the brew station, where Mattie was hovering around, pretending to be making himself a coffee. When she smiled, he mimed wiping the sweat from his brow, which made her giggle.