Don't Look Behind You: A dark, twisting crime thriller that will grip you to the last page (Detective Eden Berrisford crime thriller series Book 2)

by Mel Sherratt

  Sighing, as she knew she didn’t have enough money for a taxi home alone, Ella waited outside as the club emptied but still she couldn’t see them. Shivering slightly, she decided to walk. It would take her about half an hour, and if she stopped off for something to eat on the way, that would cheer her up. She had enough money for that.

  Twenty minutes later, a cone of chips but a distant memory, Ella was almost home. She walked along the high street that would take her past The Cavendales and on to where she lived, just a few streets further on. Squinting as she passed the first of the large houses inside the walled estate, she dreamt of one day living in something so grand. Being eighteen and in her last year of a two-year A-level course at sixth form, she had a long way to go.

  When she came to the cut-through that would take her to where she lived, she paused. She hated walking that way but she had done it for years, and it would take a good ten minutes longer to walk around. Taking a deep breath, she started the quick march to the other side.

  Without warning, she was pushed in the back. Landing on all fours, someone from behind grabbed a fistful of her hair, dragging her along the pavement.

  ‘Hey!’ Ella cried as her knees scraped along the tarmac. In desperation, she tried to hit out at the hand that still had a firm grip on her hair as she scrambled to her feet again.

  A few steps into the walkway, she was pushed up against the wall. She turned quickly to see a man. He was slightly taller than her and wore a black woollen scarf covering his mouth and nose, and a black hat. All she could see were his eyes, blue and menacing.

  His hand squeezed her breast roughly.

  Knowing he could overpower her in seconds, she put up a fight, pushing him in the chest.

  ‘Get off me!’ she cried.

  But he came back at her, and she gasped as his gloved hand found her neck. She slapped at his face, his head, grabbed for his hat. Taking both of her wrists, he tried to force her to the floor.

  ‘No!’

  If he got her to the ground, it would all be over. Her fist caught him on the side of his face, the next one on his cheek. As he tried to grapple to catch her arms, she cried out as loud as she could.

  ‘Help me!’

  He struck her in the face. It felt like minutes passed, like everything was going in slow motion as she began to lose control. But in reality it had only been seconds. Ella groaned as pain engulfed her, her legs giving way.

  He pushed her to the ground and straddled her. It was a few moments before she realised what he was doing next, a few more before she knew she was powerless to do anything about it. When one last bout of resistance brought another punch to her face, she went inside herself. The pain in her head intensified, yet she was almost thankful for it. It stopped her from thinking about what else he was doing to her.

  Chapter Three

  Eden pulled up alongside a black Range Rover to see a woman inside having a go at the children in the back of the car. She caught Eden looking, and the woman rolled her eyes. Eden smiled at her, thankful that her days of the school run were over. She was still a taxi service during the evenings and weekends for her sixteen-year-old daughter, Casey, but at least she didn’t have to sit in traffic each morning and join the yummy mummies in the playground.

  When the lights changed, she pressed on the throttle and the Lambretta shot forward. A puff of blue smoke came from the exhaust, its tinny engine way behind that of the Range Rover, which had already turned a corner before she’d got across the road.

  Eden’s car had gone in for a service. She could have asked for a lift to the station, but that wouldn’t have been half as much fun. It was definitely not scooter weather, but at least it was dry and there was no ice on the roads. In winter, she never got much time to enjoy the feel of the wind rushing past her. It was certainly a wake-up call.

  She pulled in to the station car park to jeers from a group of uniformed officers who had congregated around the back door.

  ‘Morning, Twiggy. You been out on an all-nighter?’ said one, sniggering at his own joke.

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ she said, pulling off her helmet. ‘At least I get some action all night.’ She looked him up and down. ‘How old are you? Fifteen?’

  ‘Old enough, Sarge,’ he shouted amidst laughter as she made her way inside. ‘Old enough.’

  Eden threw him the finger over her shoulder but she was smiling. She didn’t give a stuff who took the mickey out of her. She loved her Lambretta.

  A few minutes later, she was at her desk and waiting to go in to see her boss. Detective Inspector Sean Whittaker was responsible for overlooking the Major Crimes Team, as well as Eden’s team, and split his time between the two accordingly.

  The Community Intelligence Team had been set up six months earlier, on a twelve-month trial, and Eden had been asked to put in for the position of detective sergeant to head it up. She had two detective constables to manage, and if Eden could have chosen who to have in her team they would both have been top of her list.

  Twenty-nine-year-old Jordan Ashcroft had been with the police for eight years, and had transferred from Manchester two years before to be a detective constable. His sunny disposition served him well as an officer, enabling him to deal with all types of people and situations.

  His colleague, Amy Nicholls, was three years younger and had served just over six years at Stockleigh Police Station as a police constable before her recent promotion. When Eden had first met her, she’d thought Amy all sweetness and light but had been pleased to see she came into her own when pushed. Then she seemed to have wisdom beyond her years.

  With Sean at their head, they were a good team, working well to gather intelligence about the residents of Stockleigh. Together they had helped to solve a few cases in the department’s five months of operation. Already Eden was dreading the end of the trial year. She had never loved getting her teeth into her work so much as she had these past few months.

  ‘So, what exciting things have you two been up to over the weekend?’ Eden asked as she logged on to the police computer network while Amy collected mugs for drinks.

  ‘Please tell Amy not to mention the “W” word.’ Jordan put his head in his hands. ‘I really can’t cope with another fancy or a guest list or order of service thingumajig. It’s way too early.’

  ‘Oi!’ Amy hit him on the arm as she walked past. ‘My wedding happens to be the most important thing in my life right now. And I don’t care what you think or say. I’m going to bore you all for the next five months, three weeks and five days.’

  Jordan groaned. ‘Can’t you sack her for gross negligence, for putting her colleague’s mental health at risk? Or something. Anything!’

  Eden grinned. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I’m all for a good knees-up as long as I can wear my Doc Martens under my dress.’

  ‘Can’t wait to see that.’ Jordan pointed to the computer. ‘Anything come in for us over the weekend?’

  ‘An assault we need to follow up on. Oh, and Colin Stanton causing the usual trouble.’

  Jordan rolled his eyes. ‘Nothing new there then.’

  Amy came back with the drinks. She plonked their cups down and handed two to Eden. ‘For the boss. He’s ready for you.’

  Eden went through to Sean’s office. ‘Morning, Sean. You wanted to see me?’

  Eden and Sean Whittaker had worked together since they had joined the police force, in one role or another. He was in his early forties, blond hair cut short due to the fact it was receding rapidly, with intense brown eyes that could stare some people into submission. He removed the glasses he used reluctantly for close-up work.

  ‘Morning. First things first,’ Sean replied, glancing up and then back to his computer screen.

  Eden slid a mug of coffee across the desk to him and sat down opposite.

  ‘Right then. Ella Brown.’

  ‘She was raped on Friday night,’ said Eden, getting out her notebook. ‘Well, it was the early hours of Saturday morning. I’m cross-referencing it
with an attack that happened a couple of weeks ago. The case has been passed to us to investigate, to see if they’re linked.’

  ‘Is that looking possible?’

  ‘I’m not sure. According to Ella’s statement, she usually got a taxi home with her friends, but, after losing them in Sparks nightclub and not having enough money for the fare, she walked home. Unless someone was walking behind her on the off-chance that she would lose those friends, she would have been home in a taxi with them. The other girl had been at Sparks nightclub too.’

  ‘Okay, do your stuff and look into it. And Colin Stanton?’

  ‘Don’t believe everything you hear, sir.’ Eden dropped her eyes for a second, her skin burning up. Although she stood by what she had said and done to the creep, she had been angry with herself when she’d overreacted. ‘The guy is totally deluded when he’s been drinking,’ she added.

  ‘It was half past nine in the morning.’

  ‘He was drunk from the night before. Anyway, I just hope it means that he stays away from Sally for a while, because she’s too scared to tell him to leave. I’ve tried to get her into working with SWAP or going into one of the self-defence classes at The Workshop but nothing has got her out of the house so far. Can’t say I blame her though.’

  The Workshop was an enterprise centre in the middle of the Mitchell Estate, one of two large housing estates notorious for trouble in Stockleigh. It had been opened in 2012 for people to rent out rooms at a lower-than-normal price, with business start-ups in mind. Due to a lack of interest from the residents, it had turned into a place for lots of evening classes and social gatherings. Stockleigh Women Achieving Potential (SWAP), a support group run by some of the mums from the estate, had pooled their resources and come up with courses for adults, teenagers and young children that had been second to none.

  ‘I think she will always see herself as a victim,’ said Eden. ‘I don’t mean that in an unkind way. I just think the idiot ground her down so low that she might never get back up again unless he leaves her life completely. Which he won’t do. Even if he gets sent to prison, he’ll be out in a few months and up to his old tricks again, no doubt.’ She paused. ‘Maybe we should have another word with Josie.’ Josie Mellor was a housing officer for Mitchell Housing Association. ‘Perhaps there’s some money left in the pot to sort out some security on her property that would make her feel safe. Sally was doing okay with her new partner too until Stanton whacked him around the head with a golf club.’

  ‘When’s he due in court for that?’ asked Sean.

  ‘Next month. The sixteenth, and not a day too soon.’

  Sean nodded in agreement. ‘I wanted to see you, by the way, because we have a sick-note coming back this morning. Phil Sillitoe. Do you know him?’

  ‘Vaguely.’ Eden hadn’t worked with him before, only knew him on the beat some years ago. If she remembered rightly, he’d been a bit of pain back then.

  ‘I have to place him for a few hours each day over four weeks until he can get back to working full-time in CID. He can’t re-join his own team to do active duties yet.’ He rolled his eyes.

  The look on Eden’s face was comical as she realised she’d been lumbered with him. ‘There’s nowhere else he can go?’ she asked, putting her hands together as if in prayer. ‘I’ll beg if I have to. I’ll even pay for the next round of drinks – and curry too!’

  Sean smirked. ‘He’s okay in small doses.’

  Eden enjoyed working with Sean. Their jesting was light. Most of their chats ended with jokes, except when they were dealing with higher-level cases that needed to be passed over. The Community Intelligence Team couldn’t cover everything they needed to. Which was a shame. Because they were about to get their most intense case yet.

  Chapter Four

  Eden went back to her desk and was just about to sit down when she heard someone shout her name. Jordan walked towards her, a man following behind him.

  ‘Someone to see you, Sarge.’ Jordan jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘Phil Sillitoe.’

  She looked from one man to the other. There couldn’t have been a more opposite pair. Whereas Jordan was young, tall and incredibly suave but without the attitude, Phil was middle-aged with a large belly bursting from his shirt and wearing a jacket that was a size too small. The knot in his tie was crooked, his annoyed face ruddy and what little hair he had was a mess.

  ‘Hi, Phil.’ She smiled, pushing aside all her prejudice. ‘Good to have you back. I’ll just get a couple of things off my desk and then I’ll be with you.’

  Phil’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Eden wondered if it was because she was a woman or if it was because, at thirty-nine, she was nearly ten years his junior – or if he was just nervous about coming back to work after a long break away. Whatever it was, he didn’t look pleased at the prospect of being placed with them. She kept smiling at him nonetheless.

  ‘You know Jordan and Amy, I think?’

  ‘I’ve probably been working on the force more years than the two of them put together.’ Phil gave each a curt nod before sitting down.

  Amy rolled her eyes at Eden, who shook her head quickly. She wasn’t sure if Amy was joking or if she was being serious. She hoped their lovely little team wasn’t going to become a battlefield.

  Eden decided to take Phil out with her and checked out a pool car. She wanted to speak to the young woman who had been attacked two weeks earlier.

  Becky Fielding was twenty-two and worked in Sunnyside Café. It was a greasy spoon but without the grease. Eden often called in on her rounds as they made the best bacon butties. They had takeaway from there too. But even though it was inevitable, she was still a little shocked when she realised she knew the victim after reading the case notes. She’d served her many times, always with a smile. She was bubbly, with curly blonde hair, brown eyes and red lipstick, and there was always a laugh and joke to be had with her. She seemed a valuable part of the business.

  ‘You’ve worked in here for a while now, haven’t you?’ Eden said as Becky brought over tea and toast and sat down with them.

  ‘Yes, I started as a Saturday girl, then stayed on when I was at college and uni. I’ve become part of the furniture since, because I can’t decide what to do with my life. Trouble is, this place doesn’t pay much, but I’m a people person and love a gossip.’

  Eden smiled. ‘I wanted to talk to you about the attack you reported on January seventh.’

  ‘Oh, right. Well there isn’t much I can tell you that I didn’t put in my statement.’

  ‘I thought perhaps you might have remembered some more about it. Often when people are attacked things come back to them later.’

  ‘Well, I was in Stockleigh. I’d just come out of Sparks. It was freezing and there were no taxis so I decided to walk down from the high street.’

  ‘Were you on your own?’ asked Eden.

  ‘No, I was with my friend, Sasha Lamont.’

  ‘Do you often walk home?’ Eden watched as Phil added three sugars to his tea and then stirred the spoon in the cup noisily. She glared at him when it became annoying.

  ‘Yes, we usually leave about 1 a.m. Sometimes there are no cars and it’s just as quick to walk as it is to wait for one to come back.’

  ‘And, of course, you spend your money on drink,’ Phil said, ‘which means you think you’re infallible when you’re out late at night.’ He clanked the spoon one more time on his mug before putting it down on the table.

  Becky opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it. She turned back to Eden. ‘I’ve lived in Stockleigh all my life. It’s as safe as houses. You’ll always get the odd nutter who wants to have a go.’ She looked at Phil. ‘But no one will tell me that this city is dangerous.’

  Eden laughed under her breath. She liked the girl’s attitude. ‘So you walked home?’ She moved them all along.

  Becky nodded, checking her watch when a group of mums came in, prams and toddlers in tow. ‘I only have a few more minutes,’ she said.
‘I live the furthest away so I said goodbye to Sasha and carried on walking.’

  ‘This would be where?’

  ‘Towards Coventry Street. You know it?’

  Eden nodded. There had been a block of forty new builds erected last year. The locals had been up in arms over it because the land being used was a playing field. But it had been to no avail. The houses had gone up and the builder had erected a playground in the middle of it to pacify everyone. So far it hadn’t become a hotspot for rowdy teenagers to hang around.

  ‘I was walking along, minding my own business, when this guy came up behind me and punched me in the side of the head.’ She laughed snidely. ‘I think it was his intention to daze me, but I’m made of stronger stuff than that. Then I thought he might be after my bag so I clouted him with it. He grabbed my arms and tried to drag me into the bushes. That’s when I started to scream. He kept on pulling at my wrists so that I would go down but I was too strong for him.’

  ‘Did he say anything to you?’ asked Eden, trying not to be put off by Phil munching his toast, butter dripping down his finger.

  ‘No, I called him a fair few things though. When he realised he couldn’t get at me, he ran off.’

  ‘Did you see where he went?’

  ‘I bloody didn’t! I ran as quickly as I could until I was home. When I got up the next morning and told my mum, she said I should report it. I thought it would be a waste of time but she talked me into it. Said she would never forgive herself if he attacked someone else’s daughter. Just because I can look after myself, she said, wasn’t reason not to say anything.’

  ‘Your mum was right,’ said Eden. ‘You never know what might have happened, and what might happen if he tries anything again in the future.’

  ‘And has he?’

  ‘Has he what?’ Eden knew what she was getting at.