by George Rufus
Her arm was yanked painfully above her head, at the same time as the weight increased on her chest. She lashed out with her other fist, only to be struck so hard with a metal hard poker that it instantly shattered the bone, leaving it lying limp and useless at her side. Likewise her legs which had been sat upon were now heavily weighted down and tied.As she hysterically sobbed, tape was placed across her eyes. She was back in a total black hole where she now knew there was a real nightmare and she was firmly involved.She felt her throat close and she could no longer scream, only strange noises interrupted intermittently from her mouth.
A voice menacingly low and slow announced, “See no evil!"
Then as her working arm was taped up to the bed stead, her head was held roughly and forced to one side and the voice again broke above the noise of her terrified breathing to declare, "hear no evil!"
She could smell toothpaste, fresh minty breath as her mind processed this ordinary fact, she was unprepared for the next act.
A hot, stinging slicing motion on the side of her head, followed by the warm flow of blood down her neck, made her intake of breath so hard and strained as the pain and shock enveloped her, she almost lost consciousness. As her head was turned roughly to the other side, she vaguely realised what was to come.
Her other ear was sliced off, but not as smoothly, as she struggled in a desperate but futile attempt to avoid the brutal act. The pain was delayed, by a few seconds as her body tried to reassess the sheer brutality of losing both ears.Her head was now in the middle of two warring bomb attacks, where open craters of destruction and burning debris now existed.
She wanted to wake up from this terrible dream. Why was this happening.She tried to cry out that this was all a terrible mistake. She needed to tell this monster that they had picked the wrong person. But no voice came out of her mouth when she tried.
She knew then there was worse to come and she prayed to die, to lose consciousness. She waited with a fearful premonition of the words that would come.
"Speak no evil, No!"
Her mouth was forced open and as she retracted her tongue, the intruder forced his fingers into her mouth, making her gag and reach, until the piercing pain of a hook pulled her tongue viciously sideways from the safety of her mouth. The tape across her eyes was ripped off, the loss of most of her eyebrows did not even register. The dark shape leant forward again, holding her tongue upward, as the knife sliced through, her chest pain reached tumultuous levels and she plummeted into a deep, dark hole from which she never clawed her way back from.
As he walked from the room, wiping the unpleasant wet sticky blood from his hands and wrists, he wondered if she even remembered him.
She had paid her dues.
Chapter Fourteen
It took three days for the body to be found and only because a neighbour lost patience with the mewing of Agnes' cat at her back door. The cat flap had been locked. The neighbour went around to give the old woman a piece of her mind about being a responsible cat owner.
She couldn't get a response, but noticed that a small pane of glass next to the handle, half way up the door was smashed. She hesitated at first but felt compelled to try the handle to see if the door opened, which it did. She leant through the door and shouted a tentative "Hello, anyone in?"
That was when she smelt a pungent, nauseating smell. It reminded her immediately of when she had returned from holiday one year to find the freezer had defrosted and all the meat had gone off.
She yelled again. Getting no reply she decided she should maybe go home and call social services to say she was worried, but then realised how would be better checking in case the old lady had fallen and was injured inside somewhere.
You can never unsee what you have seen.
She would always regret going further into the house, in an act of neighbourly duty.
She opened the door of the bedroom. The sickening wall of smell hit her a second after the bloody nightmare scene of the death bed tried to imprint itself on her eyes. Her eyes refused to take it in. Her mouth opened and as she whipped away to run, her banshee scream hit every wall in the small bungalow.
The chief at the police briefing the next morning, after all the customary visits to the crime scene, witness statements and an endless entourage of professionals in their necessary roles, described it as the worst crime scene in twenty years he had ever attended.
In ten days, there was a tally of one gruesome murder, another death yet unexplained and a missing teenage girl. All within a small area and with no clear resolutions in sight. Tensions were high, all leave cancelled and everyone was busy revisiting old statements and evidence. Ian and Steve were still accompanied by solicitors to all interviews. There was no one else on the horizon or under suspicion over Freda's tragic death.
There was absolutely no sighting of Andrea Sellars, despite further nationwide coverage of her as a missing person. The only information that had since come to light was someone believing they had seen a vehicle, rather like an old Land Rover series two driving along the Mary Tavy road late that night. The police were cross referencing local Land Rover registrations to data held to see what might crop up. As well as widening the interviews of school friends and contacts she had, including on social media. Theories were abound that she had been groomed or met up with someone from an internet source, adding to her parents distress. The police were carefully handling all such stories, giving regular updates and trying to keep a lid on the serial killer plot currently being flouted in a series of newspapers. The links between the different crimes were now subject to so many tenuous subplots and fantastical new leads, the police spokesperson was at levels of breakdown.
Three women. Different ages. No obvious patterns.Two bodies. One small West Country town and police force feeling the brunt of media attention and demands for closure. A real need for the usual calm to return.
The hysteria was about to go up another notch, as concerns were reported by the local comprehensive school about the no appearance of a teacher at the beginning of term. Initial investigations had found his house empty, with no sign of a disturbance but mail on the doorstop and a light left on. The man in his fifties had no immediate family or friends to vouch for his whereabouts and even neighbours barely noticed his movements it seemed.
With another potential missing person there was a reorganisation of teams and allocation of personnel, to maximise efficiency and skills. There was also temporary incident rooms in the town car park area which was now cordoned off to the public and media. Experts and professionals from other areas were on hand to try and match patterns to crimes in their own areas, either solved or unsolved. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the current criminal spree of madness. Just a desperate need to get some answers and to put a lid on the furore of fear.
The gruesome murder of Agnes Wright, was the main focal point of everyone's attention because of the sadistic level of violence that was off the Richter scale. Full details were not released, the fear that would ricochet in a small community like Tavistock would be astronomical and hinder police work but the fact that the killer was out there was enough to make every police officer willing to commit the hours necessary. Rob had sent his own sons with great reluctance to stay with his in laws because he couldn't keep commit to set hours at home and likewise other colleagues were working exhaustive hours to make any headway with the case. Every professional service necessary to solving such a case was being drafted in, to create a greater understanding of the psychological profile of such a killer.
The random and yet prolific nature of what had happened in the last ten days was hitting police personnel not only in their reserves of energy but their self-belief in managing and resolving the trauma currently being suffered by all involved.
Chapter Fifteen
"All I want is a pizza, a large bottle of wine and a decent night's sleep!" announced Kate, as she and Rob walked back to their cars that evening. "You alone again tonight? Boys still with their gran
dparents?"
"Yep and Yep!" He replied alliterate too snappily.
"Steady on grumpy, you could always change that. In fact I know half a dozen woman only to ready to keep you company, open the wine, cook the pizza and to have an early night with you. Just say the word and I will pass on your number."
"Ha bloody ha! See you tomorrow."
Arriving home, he felt the emptiness of the dark cool house slap him in the face as the front door opened to be greeted by nothing but absolute silence. No children arguing over the remote, no smell of supper cooking on the stove, courtesy of his cheery neighbour and worse still not a drop of milk or a slice of bread. He laughed to himself as he shoved pizza in the oven, which was his only choice except for a few runaway peas loitering in the bottom of the freezer drawer. He then made the sad scenario worse by opening a bottle of red, pouring a glass and toasting aloud Kate, recalling her conversation from before.
No sooner had he sat down with his glass and pizza, twenty minutes later, than the doorbell rang.
He cursed aloud not really wanting company but resigned to opening it with his car on the drive giving away his presence.
His unshaven and slightly dishevelled appearance, with just an open necked shirt and clutching his slice of pizza did not disappoint his visitor however, as her eyes lit up when the door opened.
"Hi Rob, “Tess beamed, as she breezed pass him without waiting for an invite." I wondered if you were up for company tonight, as Jacqui mentioned the boys were away."
The intensity of her gaze, as he poured her a glass of wine was affecting his judgement again.
The way she slipped off her shoes, as they sat together. She listened as he made excuses for not getting in touch and moved the conversation onto other things. She was a welcome diversion he knew from the daily hard slog, she smelt ridiculously good and he was soaking in her light conversation. As the wine continued to be poured, the conversation was still easy and has he hadn't made a continual fool of himself and started to relax he began to focus in on her other attributes that were stirring his attentions. She would deliciously flick back her long glossy brown hair, while not removing her gaze from his mouth. Her hazel coloured almond shaped eyes, had amber imperfections in them that gave a feline quality, enhancing her graceful sleek movements like a cat about to pounce and play. He knew he had consumed a little too much wine, as he found himself staring a little too long on her mouth and relishing every tactile gesture that accompanied her outlining details of her new book she was writing. Sitting on the sofa, she made a deliberate play for his leg and arm as first point of contact accompanied by long fingers gently pressuring the inside of his leg. With fluent ease with she put down her glass and began to run her hands down his cheek and through the hair at the base of his neck was so natural he played along. All the time, with lips slightly parted and never dropping her expectant stare. All his reserves and resolutions seemed to be at the bottom of his now empty wine glance and she was obviously enjoying playing with his physical reactions to her pawing him. Long slow kisses, lead to her hands placing his where she wanted to be touched and while he felt like a puppet, he was past caring. His confidence was gone and he was out of practice, but with no one in the house and her sitting astride him, he felt able to get over enough to go where he needed. Raw and physical need made the kisses harder, the urgency more important and she matched him with every step, until he was fully inside her and they climaxed together in a quick but very mutually gratifying way.
He was only then, at a complete loss at what to do, all his awkwardness at what should happen next was painful and he was grateful for her hasty redressing and controlling of any aftermath, which he was not equipped to deal with.
"Thank you for the company, it would have been a dull night in for me."
Just like that she picked up her glass, returned it to the kitchen, picked up her car keys, kissed him affectionately on the cheek and left.
"Christ, what was that all about," he said out loud.
Chapter Sixteen
The very next day the body of Andrea Sellars was found accidentally by a nineteen year old squaddie, near the firing range at Willsworthy. She had been left in a deep trench, covered in rocks and the ferns that beautifully covered the moor at that time of year. She had obviously been there a significant amount of time and would have stayed there a lot longer if the poor lad hadn't snuck off for a cigarette away from his group and their planned route. He had walked across the ditch and stepped on the mound of small granite rocks that covered her, displacing some of them. To his horror when he looked down, when trying to recover his balance, with his heavy backpack on, he had seen a partially hidden grey remains of a hand with a ring on one finger.
An incident room was set up at the car park with police stopping all traffic to question them if they had seen anything along the road or near the range over the past two weeks. Walkers, farmers and all regular visitors to the range area were questioned, including all members of the water board who had been using the access road for works that had been done over the summer there. Frustratingly information was scanty and appeared to not be largely relevant, except for one sighting again of an old series two Land Rover, using the non-public access road, when it had been left open due to water pipe deliveries.
The autopsy results showed that despite the deterioration of the body, it was heavy trauma that had killed the young runaway,Andrea and there was no sign of sexual assault. Small respite for her grieving parents, family and friends who laid a sea of wreaths and heartfelt messages as near to the sight where her body was found, as they could, despite the police barriers everywhere.
National news coverage of the recovery of the body was completely overshadowed by the hysterical links to the gruesome murder of Agnes Wright, the missing schoolteacher and the death of Freda Adolphson. The fantastical links between the cases grew ever more tenuous and confused by the paparazzi approach to interviewing just about everyone and anyone who was linked to the victims and the area. Inevitable criticism of the police and their inability to secure any kind of arrests inevitably hurting the Sellars family and fuelling their anguish more. Ian and to a lesser degree Steve, were the focus of a witch hunt, that had led to Steve's wife and twin baby sons leaving to live with her parents.
Ian had spent longer and longer periods of time in police custody, to the limits allowed without being formally charged. But there was still not a shred of evidence to suggest he had killed her. Though someone clearly had. The police were in a mire of aimless pursuits it seemed and had nothing but the various vehicle sightings. Both Ian and Steve's vehicles had previously undergone scrutiny for any traces of evidence. But had come up with nothing other than the obvious presence of Freda in Ian's car from legitimate time spent in it when alive.
The forensic evidence from Agnes Wright's bedroom had limited leads. No hairs, fingerprint, blood or fabric clues from the assailant, but several partial large bloody boot-marks on the carpet near the bed, which then disappeared, indicating their removal. The boots were heavy duty work boots with rubber soles with no discernible trademarks.
Rob was driving with Kate to yet another property, where there might be a tenuous vehicle link. They used the time to voice out their theories, away from the office and others.
“There has to be a link between them all, that we are missing," Kate questioned.
"No way, I'm not buying into the spree killer theory, "Rob said so confidently, he surprised himself." They are not all related, it is coincidental. There is the possibility of two maybe, but not the three."
" Well, Inspector Poirot, you'd better come up with some rock hard theory and evidence to support that then and definitely before you say it in front of the chief."
Their conversation was broken by Rob receiving a text. As he was in the passenger seat, he read it immediately, thinking it might be the boys who were due home that evening, but felt himself redden as he found it was from Tess.
It simply read: Would you like
to have dinner and company at mine next Saturday?
Kate appeared to be concentrating on an awkward turn into the school they were visiting but in fact had picked up on his reaction to the text message.
"So, who is it then Lover boy?" she asked in a tone that meant she wouldn't let it go.
"Just a mate, offering to feed me next week.”
"Do you always blush and fart with every offer of a meal, c'mon Rob are you sure it is just food you've been offered!"
The interrogation was abruptly concluded by their arrival outside the school reception. The very well-spoken school receptionist then hastily redirected them to the back drive where she said their head gardener Roy would show them their school van that was used for maintenance purposes.
Roy and his assistant were sat drinking tea when Rob and Kate finally found them sat, in companionable silence working their way through a packet of chocolate digestives. They asked to see the old Land rover series 2, asking who had access to it and how it had been used recently.
"Me and the youngster use it, regular like, around the place. Normally loaded with tools we need for maintained, gardening stuff and kit that the kids leave loafing around," the old man informed them.
"We can use it for work purposes only, so it won't have been offsite unless we were asked to collect something. We have to prove all our mileage, look on the passenger seat, there's a log of every journey. If you've finished, we've work to be gettin' on with."
As they drove away and after looking at the log, Kate mentioned how nervy the old man seemed for just a routine visit.
"Yeah, funny old bugger." Rob agreed. "But then his young assistant wasn't exactly going to win any personality awards either, was he? He barely spoke, made no eye contact and was on edge too."
"Struck me as a candidate for the special class at school. Maybe the old guy was just nervous because of all that's been going on and his employers wouldn't exactly welcome any police visits, would they?"
