FORGOTTEN VICTIM an absolutely gripping crime mystery with a massive twist (Detective Rachel King Thrillers Book 4)

by HELEN H. DURRANT

  “They must’ve been terrified.” Rachel shuddered. “We’ll speak to them later. Do we know what made them run? Who were they scared of?”

  “Neither boy will say.”

  “It’s quite deep in here and I can’t get a phone signal, so how did they get out?”

  “Anonymous call to the security firm that patrol the mill.”

  “They were lucky,” Rachel said. “Without that call they could have been stuck here for days.”

  Rachel took a look at the body and her eyes filled with tears. Her emotions were getting the better of her — must be her topsy-turvy hormones. The man was mostly bones. His wrist was lying at a weird angle from his arm. His body was clothed but it had rotted and where the skin was exposed it had dried and hardened, particularly on his arms. Suddenly Rachel’s head began to swim. “I’ll have to go outside,” she told Elwyn. “The air’s not good in here and I’m starting to feel sick.”

  “Go easy. Don’t trip over anything,” he called after her.

  Rachel knew he wouldn’t stop the comments — he couldn’t help himself. But sooner or later one of the team would notice the attention he was giving her and ask questions she didn’t want to answer. Rachel wasn’t yet ready to tell the world about the pregnancy. She hadn’t made up her mind what she was going to do. If she was honest with herself, she didn’t know. She needed time to think about it.

  Chapter Two

  Finn Kendal and Jack Handley sat with their mothers in Finn’s living room. A female PC was with them. Jack, the younger one, had smudges down his cheeks. He’d been crying. Rachel felt sorry for him.

  She smiled at them. “It’s okay, you haven’t done anything wrong. We know you’ve had a scary time of it, but will you tell me and my colleague what happened?”

  The boys looked at each other, as though not wanting to be the first to speak.

  Better give them a bit of a nudge. “Okay, I’ll start, then,” Rachel said gently. “Jack, how old are you?” she asked.

  “Eleven, miss.”

  “Finn?”

  “Twelve. We were playing, that’s all,” he said defensively. “I wanted to show Jack where I ride my bike.”

  “I’ve told him that place is a death trap, but does he listen? Strong-willed little bugger he is. Does as he pleases, drives me mad,” Finn’s mother grumbled.

  “Your mum’s right,” Rachel said. “Anything could happen to you in there. It’s full of dangerous machinery.” She waited, giving them time to settle. “Was anyone else in there with you? You told one of my officers you were in that room hiding.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know who it were. We heard voices and ran. Thought it might be a security guard or summat,” Finn lied.

  “It is important that you tell us everything,” Rachel said. “We’re trying to find out what happened to that man you found. Anything, no matter how small, might help.”

  His young face flushed. “He were dead, weren’t he? Been there a while too.” He hung his head. “We don’t know owt.”

  “You’re sure you’re not scared of someone, or protecting a friend?”

  The boys looked at each other and shook their heads. Rachel decided to leave it for now. They were upset and she didn’t want to push it. She’d interview them again when they’d had chance to recover from the shock. She handed the boys’ mothers her card. “If either of them wants to talk to me again, ring me.”

  But Finn’s mother was angry. “Tell her the truth, Finn!” she snapped. “You know very well who else was in there. That waste of space, Spider, dealing his drugs!”

  “Spider?” Elwyn queried.

  “Dylan Healey. He lives over the road. His mother’s never been able to do owt with him, lad’s run wild since he was a nipper.”

  “Is this true, Finn?” Rachel asked.

  The lad nodded. “He’ll kill us for dobbing him in.”

  “He lays a finger on you and he’ll have me to deal with,” his mother said. “Thinks he runs these streets. Well, I’ll show him.”

  “Someone alerted the security firm, told them you two were trapped,” Rachel said. “If they hadn’t, you might never have got out. That could well have been Spider.”

  Finn’s mother stuck her nose in the air. “Well, if it was him, then it just goes to show there’s some good in everyone.”

  “How long has the mill been shut?” Elwyn asked.

  “It stopped being a cotton mill in my granny’s time,” Jack’s mum said. “Since then loads of firms have tried their luck in the place. The owners divided it up into units and let them.” She shook her head. “No one made much out of it, though. That old mill hasn’t made money since the cotton days.”

  “Did your grandmother work there?” Elwyn asked.

  “And my grandad,” Jack’s mum said. “Back in the day, so did most folk on these streets. Before the houses were bought out, they used to pay rent to the Shawcross family. Back in them days, lose your job and you lost your house too.”

  “What sort of businesses rented the units? Can you recall any of their names?” Rachel asked.

  “There was all sorts. There was a sheet metal firm, but they didn’t last. A car repair shop. There was that second-hand furniture bloke. Several of the units banded together and opened a craft market at one time. That was interesting — they sold pottery, handmade goods and other things. But it didn’t last long either. Eventually they also gave up. Rents were high, not to mention the rates.” Jack’s mum shrugged.

  “How long since the last business closed up and left?” Rachel asked.

  “The car repair shop closed a couple of years ago.”

  “Do you remember what it was called?”

  “Andy’s Autos, I think. A young bloke called Andy Siddall ran it. He’s still around somewhere,” Jack’s mum said, “but I don’t know his address.”

  “This Dylan Healey, what number does he live at?” Rachel asked.

  “Number fourteen, over th’ road,” said Finn’s mother.

  Chapter Three

  Rachel and Elwyn stood on the pavement outside Finn’s house. Rachel looked up and down the narrow street of redbrick terrace houses. They’d been built for the mill workers, and were small, with shared backyards. Amid all the redevelopment that had taken place in Ancoats over the last decade, these streets represented a little bit of history the developers appeared to have missed.

  “We’ll have a word with Dylan Healey, aka Spider,” Rachel said.

  “If he’s in,” Elwyn added, and followed her across the road.

  The front door was answered by a middle-aged man clutching a can of lager.

  “He’s out,” he said.

  Elwyn stuck his foot in the doorway. “Where’s he gone?” he asked and showed the man his badge.

  “Bloody coppers. Never leave the lad alone.”

  “Why’s that, then? Naughty boy is he, your Dylan?”

  The man nodded towards the stairs. “He’s nowt to do with me, he’s hers. But you can’t talk to her cause she’s in bed after her night shift. The lad is up the pub at the end of the street.” He sneered. “Landlord won’t be happy, you lot turning up. It’ll give ’im a bad name.”

  Rachel called the station and spoke to Stella, one of the civilian information team. “Check the system for one Dylan Healey. He lives in Ancoats and he’s a dealer, so I’ve been told.”

  “Okay, I’ll ring you back when I’ve got something,” Stella said.

  Elwyn was looking at a sign above the pub window. “Interesting pub, the Spinners Arms. It’s been here almost as long as the mill.”

  They went inside. The place made Rachel shudder. Elwyn was right, it was stuck way back in another era. The main bar was small, its dark brown paintwork making it look dingy. The yellowing net curtains at the windows cut out the light, filling the room with shadows. Three men stood propping up the bar, and a couple — a lad and a girl — sat at a window table.

  Elwyn approached the barman. “I’m looking for Dylan Heale
y.”

  The bartender smiled. “Who wants him?”

  Elwyn flashed his badge. “If he’s here, just point him out.”

  “Him by the window.”

  Rachel went up and sat down next to the girl. “Dylan Healey? I’m DCI King and this is DS Pryce. We’d like to ask you some questions.”

  “Police? Don’t know why you want me. I’ve done nowt.”

  “That mill across the road. What were you doing in there earlier today?” Rachel asked.

  Dylan’s eyes darted from one to the other. “Is this about them kids? They should know better than to play in there, they could get hurt. I’m surprised the parents haven’t warned them. And it’s patrolled, too. Get caught by one of them Shawcross men and they’d know about it.”

  “Talking from experience, Dylan?” asked Elwyn.

  “Shawcross employs a bunch of bloody lunatics. Smack your head in soon as look at you.”

  The girl sitting with Healey was getting twitchy. She avoided looking Rachel in the eye and kept nudging Healey and fiddling with her hands. Rachel wondered if she was in need of a fix.

  “Did you chase the boys, Dylan?” Elwyn asked.

  “No. I heard ’em, scuttling about like rats. I gave ’em a warning, that’s all, then I let ’em run off.”

  “Why warn them?” Elwyn asked. “What were you up to? Dealing?”

  Healey fixed his gaze on Elwyn. He had small, evil eyes. “Don’t know what you mean, copper. Me and a mate went in there to get out of the rain, that’s all. We were chatting. Nowt wrong in that.”

  “Was it you who rang for help?” Rachel asked.

  He shook his head. “Can’t take the credit for that one. It was my mate. He’s got the conscience, not me.”

  He gave Rachel a sly smile. So, if it had been up to him, he’d have left the lads in that hole. What a scumbag. “Do you know who else uses the mill?” she asked.

  “Them kids. Sometimes there’s a homeless guy sleeps in there. But mostly it’s just empty. Folk don’t even seem to notice the place any more.”

  “Who were you with? Who got help for the boys?” Rachel asked. “Does your mate have a name?”

  “I don’t know him that well. He’s just someone I see around.”

  He was lying, it was written all over his face, but right now Rachel couldn’t prove otherwise. “We’ll want to speak to you again, Dylan, so don’t disappear or you’ll be in trouble.”

  “What d’you think?” Elwyn asked, once they were outside.

  “No morals, and he’s so used to lying he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. He’ll have been dealing, alright, but I don’t see him as the main man, not sharp enough. Get uniform to do regular checks on that mill from now on. If they catch Healey with drugs on him, they bring him in. We could do with having a word with the security firm. They may be able to throw some light on who our victim was.”

  They went back to the car. “You’ll have to make a decision soon,” Elwyn said. “Make plans for when the baby comes.”

  She sighed. He was back on the subject of her pregnancy.

  “You must be twelve weeks gone. You can’t go much longer pretending it’s not happening.”

  “You’re stating the obvious, Elwyn. When I’ve decided, you’ll be one of the first to know,” she said sarcastically.

  “And Jed?”

  Jed McAteer, the baby’s father and the man who’d been hovering in the shadows of her world for most of her life. That’s where Rachel would have liked him to stay. But a brief liaison at a wedding in Malaga earlier in the year had got her into this mess. The truth was, whenever she was around Jed, common sense went out of the window. “I’m not sure. Tell him, and it’s like offering an open door. He’ll want in to my life on all levels, and I’m not ready for that yet. That’s why I want to wait. I’ve a lot to consider. What I decide will affect the rest of my life.”

  Heavy stuff. Elwyn quickly changed the subject. “I’m moving into my new house on Friday. I intend to have a bit of a bash. Want to come?”

  “Not this Friday, surely? Won’t you want to get the place straight first?”

  He grinned. “Thought you guys might help me with that. Ffion’s making food, it’ll be good.”

  “Have your parents seen the house?”

  “Not yet. They’re coming over from Rhos on Sunday. I hope to have it straight by then. What d’you say? A bit of down time will do you good.”

  “I’ll see, and that’s all I can promise at the mo.”

  “Fair enough. Right, where to now?” he asked.

  “Back to the station, but first we’ll give Jude a quick visit, see if she’s got anything for us yet.”

  Chapter Four

  “We’ve had a bit of luck,” Jude said with a smile. “As expected, the newspaper the victim was lying on had disintegrated but we have found a date.” she said. “Provided, of course, that whoever put them there didn’t use papers they’d had for months.”

  Rachel’s eyes were drawn to what was left of the body lying on the table. It gave rise to so many questions. What had been done to him before his death? An involuntary shudder snaked down her spine. The sight was the stuff of nightmares. “When was it?” she asked.

  “The latest date we have on the newspapers is two years ten months ago.”

  Rachel shook her head. That was a long time. The trail would have gone cold. “Missing persons isn’t much use to us without a name. Anything in his clothing?”

  Jude nodded. “Most of it is in tatters but the leather jacket is in good shape and pretty distinctive. It needs work to enhance, but I think the design on the back is a name or initials that have been appliqued on.” She smiled. “And this’ll cheer you up. In the inside pocket, we found a debit card.”

  Rachel could scarcely believe their luck.

  “Is it still readable? Do we have a name?” Elwyn asked.

  “Well, the date and account number aren’t clear at all but the name on the card is Rita Pearce. The bank will have her details.”

  “So the victim is a woman? You said the body was male,” Rachel said.

  “Rita might be the victim’s girlfriend, or a family member,” Jude suggested. “You won’t know until you speak to her.”

  “Thanks, Jude.” Rachel nodded at the body. “What next for him?”

  “We’ll clean him up and hope we can discover how he died. But he has a lot of broken bones, particularly his legs, and some are missing entirely. No doubt Jason will find them in that cellar. That can’t have happened by accident or natural decomposition. I think he was beaten badly before he died.”

  More horror to contemplate. “If you get anything else, let me know at once,” Rachel said.

  “Butterfield and I will take a thorough look at the remains tomorrow. If you want to attend, I’ll text you the time. But it won’t be pleasant.”

  Not something to look forward to, but Rachel would be there. Butterfield might turn up something important and she needed to know at once. She and Elwyn made for the car.

  “I want the bastard catching, Elwyn. Whoever snuffed the life out of that poor man like that thinks he’s got away with it. The trail is cold but that won’t stop us. I’m determined the team won’t give up until we’ve exhausted every avenue.” Her voice quivered with emotion.

  “We see a lot of awful things, Rachel, but this appears to have affected you more than most,” Elwyn said.

  He was right, and she was embarrassed that he’d noticed. Not that Rachel was in any way hardened to what she faced in the course of her job, but she did try to present a certain detachment. “I don’t know why, but please don’t blame it on my condition. I am more emotional, I admit, but pregnant or not, crimes like that hit me hard. For all we know he could have been left in there to die, injured, in a confined space and unable to help himself. It doesn’t bear too much thinking about.”

  Elwyn put an arm around her shoulder. “Chin up, Rachel. We’ll all do everything in our power to get the bastard.
” He hugged her close to comfort her, and then let go. “He might have been dead already when they left him there,” he suggested.

  “No, he wasn’t,” Rachel said firmly. “Or whoever did it wouldn’t have bothered tying him up. At least we have a name — with luck this Rita Pearce will have known our victim. We’ll go back to the station, get her details and then speak to her.”

  * * *

  Rachel assembled the team in the meeting room. The two detective constables, Jonny Farrell, and Amy Metcalf, Stella, their civilian information officer and the two uniformed PCs assigned to them.

  Jonny was keen, a young, ambitious detective who worked hard. He could have had a much easier time of things if he’d chosen to go into the family business — his father, a former professional footballer, owned a string of sportswear shops across Manchester. But Jonny had always had a burning ambition to be a detective, a sentiment Rachel understood well. The other DC was not so easy to understand. What motivated her? Amy’s input came in fits and starts. Sometimes she was an excellent officer, but at others she was sloppy and disinterested. Amy was also convinced that Rachel didn’t like her, which was untrue, though Rachel had no time for shirkers on her team and couldn’t understand why a young person would be doing the job in the first place if her heart wasn’t one hundred per cent in it.

  “We have the body of an unknown male, injured, and possibly left to rot in a tunnel under the dilapidated remains of Shawcross Mill for approximately three years,” Rachel said.

  “Murdered?” Amy asked.

  “The way he was left, I would say so. We await the PM tomorrow for further details of how he died.”

  “Do we have anything to work with?” asked Jonny.

  “We do.” Rachel smiled. “Our victim was wearing a leather jacket with a debit card in the pocket. The card wasn’t his. The name on that card is Rita Pearce.” She looked at Jonny. “I want her finding quickly. She most likely knows who our victim is. Our first task is to give him a name and find his family. They need to be told.” She turned to Amy. “Check missing persons too. It’s a long shot, but let’s see how many male mispers we had around that time.”