Beyond Evidence

by Emma L. Clapperton

  Jodie looked at him and in her head she knew exactly what he meant.

  "Wait a minute Patrick, if you go wading in there giving information that the police will see as only the murderer could know they're going to start asking questions as to why you know so much and in so much detail. Please remember that not all people in the world believe in what we do." She was squeezing his hand as she spoke.

  Patrick considered this for a moment. He thought to himself that she could be right, but the DNA sample would prove to the police that he had nothing to do with the murders.

  "You think that they are going to believe you the minute you tell the Police what you've seen? I understand it but there is a real chance that they won't. Think about it Patrick, really think about it. You will be putting yourself at risk of becoming a suspect," she pleaded.

  Patrick didn't say anything, he just stared at her. But he was far away. He thought about the most recent girl to be murdered. He didn't have her name yet as she was thrown into death so suddenly that it hadn't been made known to him. He referred to her as the third girl. He took his thoughts back to the night of the first murder.

  He and Jodie had been in town that night for a meal. They had walked home from Bath Street to the harbour where they live. It was a summer's night and it was turning darker as they walked.

  They could have passed the murderer. It could have been Jodie that was murdered. Who would be their next victim? That's why he felt the need to help the Police. But how could he get them to believe him, or even understand? He thought about the crushing sensation he had felt during the early hours of the first time he encountered the spirit of the first murdered woman. He had fallen asleep, but it was a restless sleep. He had been dreaming of a woman who didn't have a face, kind of like a video clip and the editor had put a blur on the characters face. She was running. Patrick ran along side her in the dream, but he had no clue as to who she was. She was young, perhaps in her early twenties with long dark hair, it was damp and hung around the sides of her face as she ran. Her long side fringe was damp and flopping over her face as she ran. Patrick had a fear in him he couldn't comprehend. He felt terror in his veins, and his heart thumped so hard in his chest that he honestly thought it would burst through his chest at any moment. He watched the girl who ran, in bare feet he noticed. She kept looking behind her, which made Patrick look behind him too. He understood there and then what the girl was running from. The black silhouette of a man wasn't far behind them and he was also running.

  Patrick's head began to thump. He ached from the top of his spine to the bottom. He suddenly felt himself willing this girl to run faster. He felt the presence of the silhouette behind them and all of a sudden he felt like he was being sucked up into the air. He watched as the silhouette jumped on top of the girl and pushed her face hard into the ground. Patrick himself felt the weight of the man as if he had jumped on top of him. He watched helplessly as the girl struggled for her life. The man who had been pursuing her was now strangling her.

  Patrick was beginning to have what felt like a panic attack, but in fact he was feeling what the girl was feeling, he was suffocating. The silhouette had wrapped his fingers around her throat and squeezed, digging his fingernails into her skin so hard that he drew blood. Patrick squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn't bare to watch the horrible nightmare he was caught in! As he squeezed his eyes shut he could hear the girl choking on the man's grip, gasping for air to fill her lungs. He opened them and saw the girl was looking up at him, still faceless. She reached out for him as he looked down on the horror she faced. He felt his stomach lurch, and suddenly he sat bolt upright in bed and was gasping for breath!

  He immediately felt relief from the nightmare he had been in. He turned the bedside lamp on and he felt that awful surge of fear again as he saw the girls face in the corner of the room. She didn't say anything, she just reached out for him, making the same gasping motions as he had when he watched her in the nightmare. He stared at her, wondering who she was, what she wanted. He had used his ability to try to communicate with her. He spoke softly in his head to her, using a calmness that was hard to surface in the situation he faced.

  "Who are you? What do you need?"

  She was showing him in the only way that she could that she had suffocated. The only way she could show him was to go into his mind and replay the events leading up to her death.

  But why? Why had this young life been taken so brutally?

  Now, weeks after his first vision there were three spirits in his head and he knew that there was no way he would get any sleep unless he did something to help.

  "Jodie, I have to try, this isn't just about us now. I can't keep this in just so we don't get scrutinised for something that some people don't believe in. Times have changed since we were kids Jodie. People aren't as afraid of the spirit world as they used to be, people are more curious now and much more open minded. Look at all those states in America where the Police use psychic and spiritualist mediums to help in murder investigations. And in so many of the cases the mediums have been almost one hundred percent accurate in their evidence!" She took his other hand and pulled him round to face her.

  "Tell me exactly what you have seen," she looked deep into his eyes and held his hands tight.

  Patrick closed his eyes and relaxed his thoughts. He thought about the things he had seen over the last eight weeks. He shuddered at how cruel and callous this man was. He thought about all of the many reasons that he could be using to excuse why he had killed these women. Patrick tried so desperately to put a face to the shadow he saw chasing the woman in his dream. But the harder he tried the more distant the dream became. He thought about the place he had been taken too in his dream and how he felt when he was there. He could feel the terror pulsing through his body.

  The spirit of that woman was trying so desperately to make Patrick feel and understand how scared she had felt. He understood from that moment of realisation what exactly was happening. He knew then what he had to do! He had no face for this man. But he would do all he could to find it. Three innocent lives had come to a complete end and Patrick's thoughts were how many more before the callous, heartless excuse for a human could be stopped?

  Patrick opened his eyes said, "The women who have been in my dreams and appearing in front of me almost every night..."

  Jodie nodded, as if she was already expecting what he was about to say.

  "They have been showing me exactly what happened to them. They want me to help find the person who murdered them."

  Nine

  Revelations of Dreams

  Patrick stepped out of the shower, dried himself and went straight to the bedroom to put on his clothes. He picked up a t-shirt and jeans from the wardrobe and practically threw them on.

  "Why are you in such a hurry Patrick? It's not as if your DNA is going to help. It's only going to narrow the search down by one person!" Jodie said.

  "It's not about the DNA Jodie, it's about what I have to say. What I can do to help them." Patrick was sitting at the edge of the bed now putting on his socks and a pair of Nike trainers. He stood up and kissed Jodie on the cheek as he passed her on the way out of the bedroom door.

  "You're going now?"

  "No time like the present. I'll not be long."

  "Wait! Why don't I come with you?" Jodie asked. She was thinking that this was not the best idea and the Police were just going to laugh in his face.

  "Really? Why do you want to come?" Patrick knitted his eyebrows in curiosity.

  "For support when the Police tell you that you are wasting their time!" Jodie tried to sound as empathetic as possible. "I understand why you are doing this Patrick because I know what your goal is. But do you honestly think that they are going to have time to sit and listen to someone that they are going to see as telling ghost stories?"

  "You don't think they'll hear what I have to say?" Patrick sounded annoyed.

  "I think that they will listen, but I also think that this could
go two ways for you. They will either have no interest in your story or, they will and wonder why the hell you have so much information."

  Patrick considered this for a moment. Jodie had stopped him in his tracks, like she had always managed to do. Whether she emerged from the bedroom wearing her finest dress or first thing in the morning with bed head, she always managed to make him stop, just for a second. She had always had such an influence over him no matter what the situation. He loved that about her, but he also despised it! He closed his eyes for just a second and when he opened them the murdered women were in his line of sight, stood behind Jodie at the window. This time looking as normal as he and Jodie were at that particular moment. Then they were gone again in the blink of an eye. It was as if they were reminding him of what he had been shown.

  Patrick had remained calm throughout and seeing their faces helped him make his decision, "I'm doing this. If you are coming I'm leaving now!" Patrick went in to the kitchen to get his wallet and went to the front door.

  Jodie was stood there waiting, "Just be careful of the way you word things ok? I just don't like the thought of you..."

  Patrick put his index finger over her mouth and smiled. "No need to be worrying about me Jodie, if anything, I should be worrying about you. There's a crazy killer on the loose out there and he is targeting young women."

  Jodie shuddered at the thought and went into the hall to get her handbag, "Well if you put it like that then I am definitely coming with you!" she smiled, but inside for the first time she felt a genuine discomfort about the murder reports.

  She, for the first time sensed something bad was coming, but couldn't quite pin point what it was, most likely another senseless death.

  As Patrick and Jodie descended the stairs of the modern style apartments overlooking the west end and south side of Glasgow, Jodie noticed how the sun shone strongly through the landing windows. It made her think of the beautiful sunrises that those three women would never get to see again. She realised then why it was so important for Patrick to give his information to the Police. This monster couldn't get away with what he had done to these women.

  What if this person had planned more killings? What if this was just the start? Patrick interrupted her thoughts. "Should we just walk? It's nice weather for walking, not too hot."

  He looked at Jodie, waiting for a response that didn't come. He gently placed a hand upon her shoulder. "Jodie? Are you ok?"

  "Yeah, let’s walk," she said. "Sorry, I was miles away."

  They exited the secure door entry system and crossed the not so busy road of South Street and began to walk through the underpass of the express way which their apartment faced. Jodie slipped her hand into Patricks grip. "So, what exactly are you going to say to the Police when we get there?" Jodie asked with curiosity.

  "I don't really know yet to be honest. I'll just say what comes to mind. I'll probably just tell them what I told you. That I've been seeing things that resemble the stories in the news and just see what happens from there."

  They came out from the underpass onto Dumbarton road where cars were a constant hum along each side of the road and the buzz of conversations spoken by the hundreds of people that bustled along the pavement was deafening. Jodie looked around at the mix of different cultures that surrounded her.

  "It could be anyone Patrick. We could be standing right next to him right now and have no clue. Those three women wouldn't have had a clue either!" She tightened the grip on Patrick's hand.

  He turned to look at her as they weaved in and out of the busy people on the street and said, "It will be alright you know. The Police will catch him with or without my help."

  "I hope you are right Patrick, I just have a really bad feeling about it all."

  Both of them stopped talking as they made their way through the manic shoppers that hurried their way along the street. The scent in the air was typical of a Glasgow day, traffic fumes and cigarette smoke. They made their way through the hustle and bustle for about ten minutes before coming to the Glasgow art gallery and museum, where the pavement harboured less people and Jodie felt like she could finally exhale.

  They continued to walk toward the city centre where the Police station was situated, talking about their situation as they did. They could feel a gentle, warm summer breeze on their faces as they walked and there was a beer garden on the other side of the street, filled with people laughing and talking as they enjoyed the sun shining down on them, something that occurred on a rare occasion in Glasgow.

  Jodie looked over and wished that for that moment, she could be sitting in that beer garden, not worrying about Patrick and not having the knot in her stomach that she couldn't explain. "Do you think it will be busy when we get there?" asked Jodie.

  "Of people giving DNA samples? I don't know, can't say I have ever given one before, so I don't know what to expect," Patrick squeezed Jodie's hand tight as they climbed the four steps at the entrance of Pitt Street Police station.

  It was a long sand coloured building with large mirror reflection windows up the left side of the building. Patrick opened the door that had the Strathclyde Police logo across the middle of the glass panel and let Jodie go inside first. The reception area was quite big with blue plastic seats all along the left hand side which were all empty. On the right hand side was a large plastic wall rack with lots of information leaflets and posters. The reception desk was at the back of the room and there were two uniformed officers standing behind it, one was filling out paper work and the other was on the phone.

  "Now that I think of it, I was expecting it to be slightly busier than this," said Patrick as they both approached the desk.

  The officer who was filling out paperwork looked up from his papers and smiled at both Jodie and Patrick. "What can I do for you?"

  "My name is Patrick McLaughlin and I am here with some information on the city centre murder inquiries and to give a voluntary DNA sample," he almost held his breath after he spoke.

  "Ok I just need to take a few details and I can get someone to speak with you."

  Patrick filled out the paperwork that was necessary and was asked to wait in the seating area whilst the officer fetched someone to come and speak to him.

  He could feel a build up of nerves in the middle of his stomach, under the breastbone. It was a feeling of butterflies and heartburn combined.

  "Are you ok babe? You've gone really pale!" said Jodie who was sitting to the left of him.

  "I all of a sudden feel really nervous but I've got nothing to feel nervous about," his voice was almost shaking.

  "Of course you are feeling nervous Patrick, you are about to tell the Police that you have seen three women being murdered but you weren't actually there!" Patrick thought of this and realised that she was right, but knew he couldn't go back, he had to speak to the Police. The visions would only get worse.

  "Patrick McLaughlin? D.S Preston will see you now, I'll take you through," said the officer.

  "I'll wait here," Jodie gave a reassuring smile as Patrick stood up.

  The officer led Patrick down a short corridor and into a room that you would normally see in programmes like ‘Law and Order UK' or ‘The Bill'. It had a small table with four chairs around it and a small window in the back wall. The room had been painted a cold blue colour and it was obvious to Patrick that it was not of recent decor. The paint had bubbled and chipped all around the top where the walls met the ceiling and the window was covered in dust. D.S Preston entered the room with his colleague D.C Lang.

  D.S Preston motioned for Patrick to take a seat at the far side of the table. He did and the two Detectives sat opposite him. D.S Preston was a tall man about five feet nine, who had been on the job for about twenty five years. His face was worn and tired looking but his mannerisms definitely weren't. He seemed like the happy sort that would get on great with everyone, but Patrick figured he was also the type he wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of.

  D.C Lang was about the same height w
ith a receding hairline and a beer belly. Both officers were holding polystyrene cups filled with milky coffees from the vending machine in the corridor.

  "Have a seat," D.C Lang gestured with his hand to the opposite side of the table from the door.

  "So, Mr McLaughlin, I understand that you have some information for us regarding the murders of Rebecca Collins, Michelle Levine and Angela Noble?" asked D.S Preston. He had a strong Scottish accent, which made his voice sound loud and rather intimidating.

  So that's her name, Patrick thought to himself. He proceeded to speak. "Yes, but you may find my information a little far fetched." His mouth began to dry up as spoke to the two men across the table.

  This is going to sound crazy, he thought to himself again but he certainly was not about to stop.

  "What do you mean, far fetched Mr McLaughlin?" D.C Lang knitted his eyebrows and took a sip of coffee.

  "Let me finish my whole story before you comment on it please?" he asked.

  Both officers looked at each other then back to Patrick. D.S Preston said, "Ok, go ahead Mr McLaughlin."

  D.S Preston stayed upright in his chair and D.C Lang sat back on the chairs back support. Patrick began his version of the recent events, just hoping that the police were as open minded and believing as he and Jodie were. He had more hope in Preston than in Lang. Preston came across to Patrick as open minded, and it's not like mediums have never worked alongside the police before. Lang, on the other hand seemed like his mind was somewhere else, lunch probably.

  Patrick had his fingers crossed under the table the whole time, after all, justice depended on it.

  Ten

  Believer or Sceptic

  D.S Preston sat on the edge of the table after three hours in the interview room with Patrick and his partner D.C Lang. Patrick had just given a swab from the inside of his mouth. He had also just finished explaining everything that he had experienced.

  "OK I think we could all do with some coffee," said D.S Preston standing up and taking a stretch. He motioned D.C Lang to the door.