by James Raven
Her name was Rose Hamilton and she’d been a good catch. Just the right amount of flesh on her bones. A bubble-shaped butt and firm breasts with huge, round nipples. And when she cried she sounded like a child, which really got his juices flowing.
Her husband, Bob, was also sitting up with the blanket pulled around his shoulders. The beds were eight feet apart so he couldn’t touch his wife. The studded leather straps attached to his left wrist and left ankle restricted his movements. When they first started bringing their playthings here, they secured all their limbs so they could barely move. But after a while they saw the sense in letting them feed themselves and turn on their sides to sleep. They made a lot less fuss that way.
He walked straight over to Rose’s bed, grabbed the blanket and pulled it away from her.
‘Oh, dear God, no,’ she cried out.
He stared at her naked body and the many bruises. Then he smiled, his lips becoming thin and bloodless. She froze as he reached out and ran fingers through her thick, lustrous hair.
‘Please leave her alone,’ her husband said, his voice heavy and strained.
He turned to Bob Hamilton, whose eyes were glazed and haunted. It looked as though he was still in a state of shock from Tuesday night when he and Grant had taken turns to rape him. He’d cried like a baby and at one point had actually fainted.
‘I want you to shut up and watch,’ he told him. ‘If you turn away or close your eyes I’ll beat the crap out of her. You got that?’
Tears gleamed in Bob’s eyes and he moved his head slightly.
‘Just be grateful that I’m by myself and only in the mood for pussy,’ he said.
The couple knew by now not to scream or shout, that resistance was futile. Their spirits had been broken and the sedatives he’d been putting in their drinks and food ensured they remained subdued and compliant.
They were no longer the happy-go-lucky couple who had driven into the Knightwood Oak car park on Saturday. He recalled how they had been so busy chatting and laughing that they’d paid no attention to the white transit van that was already parked there. Or to him and Grant when they got out and followed them along the path to the tree. The couple hadn’t felt threatened by another pair of sightseers and had even smiled a greeting as they took photographs around the tree. He and Grant had walked behind them back to the still-deserted car park and it was Grant who had nailed Bob with the stun gun. A second later he’d pounced on an unsuspecting Rose. Four minutes later the couple were bound and gagged in the back of the van.
Now the pair were shadows of their former selves, damaged beyond repair. He would no doubt be doing them a favour when he eventually killed them.
He returned his attention to Rose. She was shaking now and biting her bottom lip so hard it was bleeding.
‘Just relax,’ he said. ‘You might even enjoy it this time. I know I will.’
17
Temple left the grave site at seven in the evening. He was tired and hungry and his headache had returned with a vengeance.
The news that Mason had worked with an accomplice had come as a shock to everyone. According to DC Marsh, a man wearing a sinister black leather head mask appeared in a video clip and several photographs on Mason’s computer hard drive. In the clip, both the man and Mason were seen raping an unidentified woman on a single bed.
Temple wondered if he was the same man he had encountered at Mason’s house the previous night. Maybe the man had gone there in search of the incriminating material in the loft. But if so, why hadn’t he taken it? Could it be that he hadn’t thought to check up there?
The existence of an accomplice ramped up the investigation – and the pressure. But the more Temple thought about it, the more sense it made. Abducting, imprisoning and then burying fifteen people in the forest would be an immense task for an individual. It’d be so much easier for two people working together. Two sexual predators on a mission to abuse and murder innocent people for their own gratification.
Mason and his accomplice had probably felt that they were bullet-proof – that no one was going to stop them doing what they wanted.
He wondered how long the pair had been partners-in-crime. Was it two years? Or did it go further back to before Mason started putting names and dates on a map?
Temple knew he couldn’t go another night without sleep, despite the startling new developments. There was only so long he could keep going on coffee and adrenaline. When he was younger, he never had a problem staying awake while remaining alert. But these days he needed to re-charge his batteries to stop his mind and body from shutting down.
He dropped in on Hilary Dyer on his way home. She was expecting him and desperate to know what had been happening.
‘I’ve been watching the news,’ she said. ‘They’re saying there’s a major search going on in and around Grant’s house.’
It looked to Temple as though she hadn’t slept either. Her bloodshot eyes nestled in tired grey folds of skin.
‘Sit down, Hilary,’ he said. ‘I’ll bring you up to date and then I need to ask you some questions.’
She listened in stunned silence as he told her what they’d found in Mason’s loft. He gave her all the details, leaving nothing out.
She broke down when he told her they had discovered a body in a shallow grave. The tears were pushed out by huge, racking sobs. She was so distraught that she couldn’t speak for several minutes, so he made her a cup of tea and put his arm around her shoulders as she cupped it in her hands.
‘I really had no idea,’ she said between sobs. ‘I can’t believe it. Grant was always so nice to me. I didn’t think he had a bad bone in his body. I feel awful because I didn’t know what was going on for all those years.’
‘You can’t blame yourself,’ Temple said. ‘People like Grant Mason are experts when it comes to covering up their sordid secrets – even from the people who are closest to them. Besides, you didn’t live with him or socialise with him. So I expect he never let his guard down when you were around.’
‘Most of the contact between us was by email,’ she said. ‘I only went to his house about once every two weeks when he was writing or researching one of his books.’
She started to sob again, and her face seemed to fold in on itself.
Temple waited for her to calm down and said, ‘Have you any idea where he might have taken his victims? We’re pretty sure it wasn’t to his house.’
She pressed her lips together and shook her head. When she spoke her voice was husky with emotion. ‘I can’t imagine. I’m certain he didn’t have another property. Or if he did he never said.’
‘Did he have any women friends?’
‘Not that I know of. He knew Amanda Cross of course, Noah Cross’s sister, but I’ve never known him to be in a relationship or even date.’
‘So what about this accomplice?’ Temple said. ‘The man in the head mask.’
Hilary grimaced and her voice started to quiver. ‘I don’t know. I’ve met a few of his friends but I can’t believe any of them would have been involved.’
‘Tell me about the guy who was here yesterday. Tom Fowler.’
She covered her mouth with her hand and spoke through her fingers.
‘Are you saying it could be Tom?’
‘No, but he’s a suspect like everyone else at this stage. How close was he to Mason?’
‘It’s hard to tell. I know they went drinking together, but I’ve only met him a couple of times. He seems decent enough.’
‘So why did he come here yesterday?’
‘He heard about Grant and decided to drop in on his way home from work to see how I was.’
‘Were you surprised?’
‘A bit. I didn’t expect to see him, but I was grateful nonetheless. I needed someone to talk to.’
‘Did you tell him that Mason wanted you to burn down his house?’
‘No. I didn’t tell anyone before I told you.’
‘So how did he and Mason meet?’
&nb
sp; ‘At the pub, I think. The one just outside East Boldre.’
‘You mean the Court Jester?’
‘That’s right. A few years ago, some of the regulars there formed a ramblers’ group and Grant was made honorary chairman. He organized walks with them, mostly during the summer months.’
‘And Fowler’s a member of this group?’
‘That’s right. He was actually the one who got it started.’
‘What does he do for a living?’
‘He’s an estate agent in Brockenhurst.’
‘So he knows the area well then?’
‘Like the back of his hand, I suppose.’
Temple started making notes on his pad. He decided that Tom Fowler would go to the top of the list of people he needed to interview.
‘Do you know any other members of the group?’ he asked.
‘Only Noah Cross.’
‘Does he know what’s happened to Mason?’
‘His sister called here yesterday to see how I was so I assume he does.’
‘I’ll need the phone numbers and addresses for all Mason’s acquaintances.’
‘Of course. But the numbers will be on Grant’s phone which one of your officers picked up about an hour ago, along with his wallet.’
Temple glanced at his watch. ‘Look, I’d better go. If you can think of anybody else I should talk to about Mason, then let me know.’
‘I will. And will you please keep me informed of what progress you make?’
He said he would and then asked if there was anyone she could go and stay with while the media storm raged.
‘The press will be clamouring for information on Mason,’ he said. ‘It won’t be long before they’re beating a path to your door.’
‘I suppose I could stay with my sister in Portsmouth.’
‘That’s a good idea, Hilary. I suggest you go first thing in the morning before the vultures descend. In the meantime, if you’re worried about anything, then don’t hesitate to call me.’
‘Thanks, Jeff. I appreciate it.’
‘No problem. Are you going to be all right here tonight?’
She wiped her eyes and gave a small, tight smile. ‘I’ll be fine. Honest. I’ll probably cry myself to sleep.’
Temple’s heart went out to her and he felt guilty for leaving her by herself. But he was dog-tired and anxious to get home to Angel.
18
He spent forty-five minutes in the basement. When he left, Rose Hamilton was face-down, sobbing into the pillow.
There was blood on the white plastic sheet that covered the mattress. It was from all the probing he’d done with the various toys in the dungeon.
Her husband sat on the bed watching her, his face and body tense with impotent rage.
Back upstairs, he took a shower and put on his dressing gown. Then he went into the living room and poured himself a large brandy. He needed it now that he was forced to think again about Grant’s death and the possible consequences.
It was bad enough that their highly successful partnership was over. They had made such a good team and had managed to remain undetected for over two years.
But without Grant it was going to be much harder to seize his victims. And harder still to dispose of them. They had talked about getting rid of the Hamiltons in a few days and had been planning to dig their grave on Saturday night. Now he would have to do it by himself and it wasn’t going to be easy. In fact, it was going to be a real struggle hauling two dead weights in and out of the van and through the woods to the spot they had chosen as the couple’s final resting place.
With Grant helping him, it had been no problem at all. They had got it down to a fine art and had never strayed from the well-established routine. First snatch the victims in a forest parking area when there was nobody else around. If they had a vehicle then Grant would drive it to another place – usually near their victims’ homes – and he would follow in the van to pick Grant up. They had always been mindful of traffic and CCTV cameras and went to great lengths to avoid them.
They had then played with their victims until they grew bored with them, at which point they would take it in turns to strangle them with electrical cable before burying them.
But from now on, things would never be the same. Entrapping his playthings was going to be much more difficult in the future.
But right now that might well be the least of his worries.
He still hadn’t figured out why the detective turned up at Grant’s house last night. And why a police forensic team was there now in force.
What the hell were they looking for? Did Grant blab before he died? Or had someone discovered his collection of photographs and ‘trophies’?
Before the cop arrived unexpectedly, he had searched most of the house thoroughly. But he hadn’t found Grant’s photos, or the camcorder, or the stun gun. Or even the stuff Grant had taken from their playthings. So where the fuck had he hidden them?
All Grant had ever said was that they were in a safe place. He had never been more forthcoming.
There were only two places he didn’t get to search last night – the garage and the loft. In his panic to flee the scene he’d simply forgotten. And it was too late now. The police would have been through every inch of the house. But if they found Grant’s stuff, then how much would it tell them?
The photos and videos and other objects would lead them to believe that Grant had been a sexual deviant and perhaps a murderer. But they wouldn’t reveal the existence of all the bodies or where they were buried.
Still, he was going to have to be careful and alert because one thing was certain. It was only a matter of time before the police came knocking on his door.
19
By the time Temple got home he was groggy with fatigue. His eyes felt sore and heavy, and his stomach was growling from hunger.
Angel was waiting up for him with a plate of ham sandwiches and a glass of white wine. They sat at the breakfast bar and he told her about his day and how the shocking events had unfolded.
She listened patiently while sipping hot chocolate from her favourite mug. But it quickly became obvious to Temple that she wasn’t hanging on to his every word, and he felt a frisson of guilt.
‘I’m sorry for going on,’ he said. ‘You know what it’s like. Difficult to switch off.’
Angel put down her mug and licked chocolate from her upper lip.
‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I want to hear about it. It’s just that I’m surprised you didn’t call me during the day to let me know what was happening. And to see how I was.’
She shifted her gaze away from him and stared off into the middle distance. He sensed straight off that something was wrong. She was pissed with him.
‘I’ve been on the go all day,’ he said lamely. ‘I’ve had no time to stop and take a breath.’
She raised one shoulder in a shrug. ‘So since leaving the house this morning you haven’t given a single thought to me being pregnant.’
‘Of course I have.’
‘Then surely you could have found sixty seconds to ring me, if only for reassurance.’
He frowned. ‘What do you mean by that?’
She looked at him squarely, a truculent gleam in her eyes.
‘You still don’t understand, do you, Jeff? What’s happened to me – to us – constitutes a seismic shift in our relationship. I need to know that it’s OK with you. That you want me to have this baby even though it wasn’t planned and you always said you didn’t want more children. Plus, didn’t it occur to you that I might have been worried about you? Last night you took a beating and had to go to the hospital. You didn’t sleep at all. And you weren’t in a fit state to go to work. You should have let me know that you were all right.’
She was crushing tears with her eyelids and he thought she was going to lose it completely. But she held it in by taking some deep shuddering breaths that made her face go red.
He reached for her hand across the breakfast bar, but she pull
ed it away.
He started to fumble for words. ‘I’m really sorry. It was insensitive of me. I should have called you.’
She wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand and shook her head again.
‘Don’t patronize me, Jeff. I can tell you don’t really mean it. You think I’m overreacting because my hormones have gone berserk.’
He was suddenly beset by a stream of conflicting emotions. Of course he could see her point and he knew from bitter experience that raging hormones during pregnancy can make a woman behave out of character. But at the same time he felt that she was being a trifle unfair. What had happened today was not only unusual; it was bloody mind-blowing. So surely she should appreciate that he’d been fully focused on the horrific events. After all, she was still a police officer. And that didn’t change just because she was pregnant.
He kept these thoughts to himself, though, and tried again to placate her.
‘Look, this is really nothing more than bad timing,’ he said. ‘The news you gave me last night was a shock and I’ve not had time to digest it. And then this thing with Mason has totally thrown me. It’s big, Angel, really big, and it’s been hard for me to concentrate on anything else.’
She reached for the kitchen roll and tore off a sheet to dab at her eyes.
‘I still think you should have called me, Jeff. I’ve been tearing my hair out wondering what you’re thinking. I don’t know if you’re happy for me to have this baby or you want me to have an abortion.’
He tried again to take her hand and this time she let him. He gave it a gentle squeeze.
‘But I told you this morning that if you want to keep it then that’s fine with me.’
‘And is that supposed to comfort me, Jeff? Christ, I need more than that. I need to know that you’re not angry. That you really will embrace the idea of starting another family. Or if you think it’s a bad idea and that I’ve let you down.’
Should he be honest with her? Totally honest? Tell her that despite what he said this morning he wasn’t really sure?
‘So come on, Jeff,’ she said. ‘How do you really feel about this?’
He swallowed hard and tried to think through what he was going to say before he said it. He didn’t want to get it wrong and upset her even more.
