by Tara Lyons
Grace: Hey hon x
Natasha: Hey sweetie! What’s up? X
Grace: I’m on the way home, fancy popping round? X
Natasha: I’m about five mins from The Oak, meet you there? X
Grace: I really don’t feel like drinking. Any chance you could ditch a night in the pub and come round for a cuppa. I’d love to chat. X
Natasha: Tea!! On a Friday night???? OK, who is this and what have you done with my mate? X
She laughed at her friend’s comment and was glad the bus wasn’t packed, although it didn’t stop the nosey elderly lady in front of her from spinning round for a look.
Grace: I’m here, it’s me, lol!! Just decided to give the drinking a break for a while. I’ve got a lot going on and need a clear head. X
Natasha: OK, no worries chick. Can’t meet you though as I’ve already promised to have a drink with Nicky. X
Grace: Nicky? I thought it was Ben? X
Natasha: That was so last week sweetie, LOL. Slightly complicated as they’re friends, but I’ll get my kicks where I can. Men have no problem doing it to us, you know that. It’s sexist!! How dare they think they can outsmart us women in the sex games? I’ll show them LOL. #RantOver x
Grace sighed. She hated the way her friend could bounce from one man to the next, never settling down. Granted, she wasn’t in a loving relationship herself, but she had wanted to be with Eric—she realised that now more than ever. She had been so angry at him for playing the field, but was now worried her dear friend was going down the same route. She began typing, determined to reprimand Natasha’s behaviour and advise her not to play silly games. To find true love. But she quickly deleted the message—she knew Natasha wouldn’t appreciate her attitude on the subject. And deep down, Grace felt stupid spouting about romance.
Grace: Be careful out there, Tash. There’s some freaks on the street xx
Natasha: Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself, I’m hard as nails, lol. Catch up soon… I promise!!! X
She awkwardly gathered her belongings together and rushed to press the bell. Deep in her conversation with Natasha, she had almost missed her stop. The elderly lady tutted at the commotion Grace made in her haste to exit the bus, so she gave her a sarcastic wave as the bus pulled away from its stop.
The evening had descended into darkness. Clinging her handbag, she picked up the pace. It was only a ten-minute walk from the bus stop to her house, but panic set in. She was sure she could hear footsteps behind her, but every time she looked over her shoulder, no one was there. Her mind filled with the memories of when she had run from the imaginary footsteps before—and fallen straight into Eric’s arms. Sadness washed over her. I wish he were here now.
The sound of a car rumbled nearby. As the engine drew closer, a black sports car crawled along the road. Its tinted windows hid whoever was inside, and Grace was tempted to take flight. Her feet were stubborn and stopped walking when the car came to a halt next to her. She held her breath, staring at the lavish, but unfamiliar, Subaru. Run, god damn it, woman! Home is just around the corner. Run!
The passenger’s door swung open. A white bald man leaned out against the car door and spoke with a strong cockney accent. “Here, treacle! You couldn’t tell us how to get to Wembley Stadium, could ‘ya? We’re gonna miss the match at this rate.”
Relieved no one was about to drag her kicking and screaming into the car, she exhaled deeply but felt faint. She couldn’t form the words to answer. The heavily built man moved swiftly from the car to Grace’s side and held her, placing both hands on her arms.
“You all right, love? You’re as pale as a flipping ghost. I didn’t mean to scare ‘ya.”
She narrowed her eyes and shook her head in an attempt to focus on him. When she finally did, she couldn’t help but smile shyly at the warmth of his kind hands gently holding her steady.
“How embarrassing. I’m so sorry,” she finally replied and broke free from his grasp. “I guess I got a little spooked. You want to turn around and follow the road back the way you came, then take a right. You’ll see loads of signs from there.”
He frowned, obviously confused by Grace’s sudden outburst of words. She couldn’t contain the giggles, feeling light-headed and foolish. “The directions to Wembley. So you don’t miss the match,” she said with a smile.
“Ha! Flipping heck, I didn’t even think you’d heard me talking to ‘ya. You still look a bit dazed. Are you sure you’ll be all right?” he asked.
“Thank you for the concern, but I’ll be fine. Just don’t get many flashy cars on these roads. I got a bit nervous.”
He winked, and Grace watched as the friendly stranger returned to the car. The driver was clearly impatient, as he sped off the second the passenger’s door shut. As she slowly continued on her journey home, she cursed herself for being so absurd. Seriously? You were telling yourself to run away from someone asking for directions! Mounting the stairs to her front door, she fiddled in her pocket for the keys, and felt compelled to turn and scan the dark street. It was silent, except for the sound of her deep panting. Regardless of feeling foolish just moments before, she was certain that someone was watching her from the shadows.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Hamilton’s thoughts were fixed firmly on his wife. He couldn’t ignore the fact that he had neglected her since before Christmas, and the guilt was eating away at him. As important as she was to him, this murder investigation had a way of creeping into his mind just as often as she did. But it was the case that always won. He clenched his fists in frustration at his personal and professional life. He had become a failure in both roles.
The mountain of paperwork on his office desk had grown since the previous day, but he ignored it and thought about his six years on the murder investigation team. Mostly, he reflected on the number of families that had received the devastating news of losing a loved one. He hated being part of that—it never got easier. In the space of a few months, his team had delivered those life-changing words to five families. The anger boiled inside when he thought of his beautiful wife walking around London, carefree in the knowledge that her husband caught the bad guys. Well, that was what she believed—except he was failing to live up to her glorified image of him. Who’s to say she’s safe from the scum of this world?
Hamilton was on the brink of lashing out. His body filled with impatient energy, he paced the office floor. His eyes focused on the odd green shade of the carpet as he walked. He could never fathom why other teams involved with cases such as this one would not treat them as top priority. Too much time was being wasted waiting for DNA results, and it enraged him. Understanding that every crime deserved thorough attention, he wondered if he was alone in expecting a degree of urgency when it came to taking a serial killer off the streets.
The office door burst open, and Hamilton was snatched away from his personal torments.
“Gov! Laura’s on line two, waiting for you,” Clarke said, slightly out of breath. “Sorry I didn’t knock, but I know it’s the call we’ve been waiting for.”
Hamilton waved away the apology. “Why didn’t she phone my direct line? I think I’ve been waiting long enough for the damn call.”
Clarke shrugged, a confused expression on his face. Even Hamilton wondered why he was questioning the logic of the phone call rather than actually answering it. He scooted around the table and lifted the receiver to his ear.
“Laura, what can you tell me? Let it be good news.”
“I’m happy to say it is, Denis. We’ve matched the DNA, I’ve just finished the complete report for you.”
Hamilton punched the air in jubilation. Clarke raised his eyebrows, obviously expecting information immediately, but was ignored by his partner.
“Bloody hell, yes! Send that report to me immediately. You’re a star, Laura! Thanks.”
Clarke hopped impatiently from one foot to the other. “Come on, gov, this is killing me.”
“We’ve got him, Lewis!” H
e practically skipped out of his office, excitedly making his way into the incident room. “I need to read over the report and show it to DCI Allen so he can request an arrest warrant. I hope we don’t have to wait too bloody long for it to come through. But we’ve got our murderer. We’ve got him with full bloody proof DNA evidence this time.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The shrill of the phone roused Clarke from his snooze. He glanced at his alarm clock: 7:00 a.m. He did not appreciate the early weekend call when he was not on a shift. He grabbed the phone, intent on sharing his frustration.
“Rise and shine, Lewis,” a cheery voice said before he had the chance to vent.
“Who the hell is this?”
“Your boss!”
Clarke cringed. “Sorry, gov, I didn’t recognise your voice.”
“And didn’t bother to check your caller ID before answering the phone, either, apparently. Never mind, I can tell why you’re pissed off, so apologies for the early wake-up call. But it’s time to get yourself in gear.”
“The arrest warrant has come through?”
“Not yet, you know everything official works at a snail’s pace. The DCI is hopeful we’ll have it by this afternoon, though I’m not holding my breath.”
“So what’s with the call at the crack of dawn on a Saturday?”
“We still have other avenues to cover, Lewis. I’ll be outside your front door at nine a.m. Be ready,” Hamilton said, and hung up.
Clarke stared at the phone and grumbled at its abrupt end. He slammed the phone on the nightstand, pulled the covers up to his neck, and snuggled back down into his warm bed. Be ready for nine, and he calls me at seven, jheeze! What’s wrong with these early-bird types?
****
The formal black dress and blazer hung on her wardrobe door, and Grace felt distraught to be reaching for the outfit again so soon. She considered whether she could actually face another funeral, another goodbye to someone she cared about. Regret darkened the morning as she thought about the weeks leading up to Eric’s death. Her decisions and his reactions had ruined their friendship, but she knew that in time, they would have made amends. She would have forgiven him. Feelings like hers didn’t just vanish, and he was too important to not be part of her life. She dressed in her mourning suit and sobbed because it was too late to say sorry.
A knock on the bedroom door pulled her back into the present moment, though her eyes refused to dry. Valerie walked gingerly into the room then scooped Grace up into a loving embrace. Her tears were a steady stream of sadness falling down her face. She inhaled deeply and pulled away from her mother.
“Why are you in your suit, Mum?” she asked, frowning.
“I’m coming with you, dear,” Valerie replied, as she reached over and wiped the trickle of tears on Grace’s cheeks. “You’ve suffered so much sadness these past few months; there’s no way I could let you do this alone.”
She smiled and hugged her mother. After they finally separated, Grace finished getting ready, and Valerie sat on the bed, watching her in silence.
They drove to the cemetery in Valerie’s car, and Grace itched to fill the silence between them. She hadn’t considered how another funeral would affect her mother. Desperate for conversation, she told her mother about Maria’s hypnotherapy expertise and their suggestion to try to unmask her own nightmares.
“Is that safe, sweetheart? I am so worried about you,” Valerie finally spoke.
“Please don’t be, Mum. I have spent a lot of time researching hypnotherapy, and it’s actually a very common thing to do with people suffering from recurring dreams like mine. Plus, Maria is at the top of her game in this field. I did a quick Google search on her too.” She quickly squeezed her mother’s hand.
“I’m glad you’ve looked into it then. It’s best to have all the information.”
She could read her mother like a book, and although Valerie hadn’t said it, Grace knew she did not agree with the plan. Thankfully, her mother didn’t start an argument before the funeral, and she was glad that during the remainder of the journey, Valerie listened without interruption.
As they pulled into the small car park of the crematorium, Grace worried that Eric’s family hadn’t appreciated the sheer number of friends, colleagues, and even acquaintances who would be paying their respects. She was eager to pass on her condolences, and once the car was parked, Grace marched confidently over to the chapel without waiting for her mother. Her conviction quickly faded when she was greeted by a weak Mr. and Mrs. Dexter crumbling into each other’s arms. She managed to hug Eric’s mother and shake his father’s hand before swiftly returning to Valerie, who was still waiting by the car.
“Oh, wow, that was just awful. To witness them in such a state, I felt like I was intruding.” Grace cried and clung to her mother for a few minutes. “I thought I could introduce myself, tell them what good friends Eric and I were and what a fantastic job he did at the theatre. But when I actually saw their faces… I thought I was going to break down and cry right in front of them. How awful of me.”
“Darling, don’t be so hard on yourself. I can only imagine the pain one feels after the loss of a child, at any age. Unbearable. I’m sure they’ll understand his friends and colleagues feeling devastated, as well as a little awkward. Don’t beat yourself up for being emotional.” Valerie wrapped her arm around Grace’s waist for support.
As they joined a group of mourners attempting to enter the crematorium, she noticed the detectives she’d met before, DI Hamilton and DS Clarke, walk up beside them.
“Hello, Inspector, I didn’t realise you attended the funerals.”
“My condolences, Miss Murphy. This must be a difficult day for you,” Hamilton said. “We always ensure a member of our team attends the funeral of a murder victim. We won’t stay long or outstay our welcome, but we do like to let the families know we’re here for support.” He lowered his voice when he uttered “murder victim,” and Grace was impressed with his empathy.
“I notice not all of your colleagues are here today.” The shorter of the duo, Clarke, voiced his opinion.
She got a strange feeling from him—he didn’t appear kind and genuine like his partner.
“Sadly, they can’t be. The theatre world isn’t a nine-to-five, Monday-to-Friday job, but it’ll be working on fewer numbers. I’d imagine most of the understudies will take over today so our main actors can attend,” Grace answered, pointing to a few of her cast members having a sneaky cigarette. “Michael’s probably remained back at the theatre, holding the fort.”
“You mean you don’t know that for sure? Aren’t you the assistant director?” Clarke retorted.
“I’ve had to take a few days off, Detective, so no, I haven’t spoken to him directly. It’s the way we work, though. He attended Emily’s funeral, and I oversaw the production. One of us must be on-site at all times.”
Hamilton’s smile caught her attention. “A very efficient setup, Miss Murphy. I’m sure the time away from work will be beneficial during your grieving period.”
“Thank you, Inspector. I must go. It would seem my mother’s gone ahead without me,” Grace said before she negotiated her way through the crowd, and walked into the entrance of the crematorium.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“Lewis, we’ve got the arrest warrant! Sort out our backup immediately,” Hamilton yelled energetically.
A buzz of excitement filled the incident room. Whoops and cheers from his team burst through the air. Clarke rushed from the information board to his desk, scooped up the phone, and made the call to SCO19, requesting their assistance urgently. Hamilton paused, waiting for his partner. He didn’t want to spend precious moments going over their plan of attack twice.
“Thanks, Lewis. Now, all of you, listen up. I’ve just left the chief, and he’s adamant that we work in two teams on this arrest,” Hamilton explained. “One team to the suspect’s place of work and the other team to his home. Allen’s insistent that this time no mista
kes or mishaps occur which could make our team look incompetent. Understand?”
Members of the team nodded or grunted their compliance. Hamilton drummed his fingers on the desk, anxious and frustrated that they were again waiting around. He glanced at his watch.
“Given the time of day, I’m confident our guy will still be at work. Lewis and I will head up that team. Les, Kerry, and Sharon, I want you to take a smaller team to the house, and even if he’s not there, I want you to search the property immediately.”
The trio looked confident, which filled him with an assurance of their capability. But he suppressed a snigger when the two female sergeants high-fived each other. He was thrilled with their zest for the impending task ahead of them, and would have hated to make them feel as if he were laughing at them. Hamilton explained that communication between them all was paramount, and they vowed to stay in touch with him at all times.
“We’re really going to get this son of a bitch, aren’t we, boss?” Wedlock said, his foot tapping repeatedly, and Hamilton knew everyone was eager to get going.
“This time, we can be sure. We’ve covered all our bases; he’s not getting away.”
The bubbling tension was too much pressure for him. Everyone needed to be moving, ready and in place for when their backup arrived.
“Right, team, we’ve got a knife-wielding maniac on our hands. Let’s suit up.”
****
Grace hadn’t prepared herself for the emotional speeches that were given by Eric’s family and childhood friends. She assumed, as it wasn’t taking place in a church, there wouldn’t be much memory sharing. Reeling in the sentiment of their personal stories, she asked Valerie to drive her to the theatre after the funeral. She felt she was being selfish to her colleagues, especially to Michael, by leaving them in the lurch during such a difficult time.
“Are you sure you’re ready to face work right now, sweetie? That was a very moving service, but it was also quite draining. Your state of mind has been up and down the past few days. Well, months really. Maybe you should come home with me and have a rest.”
