Beyond Evidence

by Emma L. Clapperton

  Rebecca stood next to her as Jodie looked on. She turned to Rebecca and said, I couldn't see his face! I'm sorry, but I couldn't see his face!

  A tear dropped down Rebecca's face as she looked into Jodie's eyes.

  You won't see his face till it's too late Jodie!

  Jodie's own screams woke her up.

  Fifteen

  Inquiries

  Caroline Stevens stood at the large bay window of the flat that she had once shared with Rebecca, she was quiet as she stared out to the busy traffic and people rushing up and down the street. A single tear dropped down her cheek as she wondered helplessly what had happened to her friend. The flat seemed so empty without her. Her bedroom lay exactly as it did on the night that she was killed. Caroline didn't want to touch anything, move anything or even go in. She felt like she wanted to leave it exactly the way it was the last time Rebecca was in it, that way it would feel like Rebecca was still around. There were a few photo frames around the living room with pictures of Rebecca and Caroline in them. The television played silently in the corner with no viewer and there were newspaper cuttings of the murder cases piled on the coffee table. Caroline Stevens was a mess and had become obsessed with her friends murder.

  The buzzer rang in the hallway and Caroline picked it up.

  "Hello?" Caroline had stopped buzzing people into the building without checking who it was first since Rebecca had been murdered.

  "Caroline Stevens? This is D.S Preston from Strathclyde Police, we spoke on the phone?"

  "Yes, please do come up."

  Even though she knew who was climbing the stairs she couldn't help shiver when she heard the echoing footsteps ascending the close outside the front door. She opened the door on the chain to check for sure.

  "Could I see some I.D please?" Caroline said quietly.

  Preston and Lang both showed their badges clearly and Caroline let the chain off the door and welcomed them in. She led them into the living room and offered tea.

  "That would be lovely Miss Stevens, milk and two for me," Lang smiled.

  As she made tea in the kitchen, Preston, Lang and Patrick all sat in the living room of what was once Rebecca Collins' home.

  "Getting anything Patrick?" Lang asked sarcastically.

  Patrick looked at him and rolled his eyes. He looked around the living space that Caroline once shared with Rebecca and felt a great sadness for those who had been killed and those who had been left behind.

  "Well if I was picking up anything you'd be the last person I'd tell for your sarcastic manner, Sir." Patrick walked over to the couch and sat down whilst they all waited for Caroline to come back from the kitchen.

  Preston elbowed Lang in the ribs, not so hard that it hurt but hard enough to let him know that he didn't appreciate his tone towards Patrick.

  "Just remember why we are all working together on this case Lang. Be professional please, the pair of you."

  Caroline entered the room carrying a tray with tea cups and a plate of chocolate biscuits.

  "Sorry, I don't have any doughnuts in the house," she gave a slight smile.

  Patrick heard a laugh that sounded like it was coming from another room, but it was in his head. He kept it to himself.

  "Before we start, can I ask your medium here a question?" she asked.

  "By all means," Lang tucked into a chocolate biscuit, secretly hoping that she was going to be as sceptical towards Patrick as he was.

  Caroline sat opposite Patrick and stared deep into his eyes. Patrick felt like she was looking for something inside his head. Maybe she was.

  "Do you really believe that you can help this case? I mean, if psychic mediums could do what you all say, then why haven't you just come up with a name yet? Why do you have to investigate with the police? If you really were psychic then wouldn't it be like... picking a name out of the air?" Caroline sounded irritated.

  Lang had to suppress a smile raising the corners of his mouth. Another nudge came from Preston's elbow, harder this time.

  "Well, if Rebecca knew the name of her killer then I'm sure that she would be able to tell me..." Patrick answered sincerely.

  Caroline blurted out, "But she did, he introduced himself at the pub that night!"

  "Miss Stevens, who are you referring too?" Preston gently interrupted.

  "The guy who I tried to get her to talk to, he was sat at the end of the bar we were in and he kept staring at her. I told her to give him a chance, but then I left," she began to cry.

  "Let's start from the beginning shall we?" Lang brought out his note pad and pen and sat patiently waiting for Caroline to compose herself to tell her version of the events leading up to Rebecca's murder.

  "So, the male you met in the bar, what bar was this?" Lang began.

  "My House," Caroline said quietly.

  "Ok, and was it busy?" Preston added.

  "Erm, not really, I'd say there were around fifty odd people there, but it was early." Caroline's expression showed that she was searching her brain for accurate answers.

  "Do you have reason to believe that the man would want to harm Rebecca?" Preston added.

  "Well, it's a little coincidental that Rebecca meets a guy on the same night she ends up strangled to death."

  "That may well be true Caroline but at this point we cannot rule out the possibility that someone else could be involved," Preston jotted some notes down in his book also.

  Caroline went on to describe Ross Turner, the man who remained nameless to all of them at this point. Preston and Lang took down a description of him, clothing, height, hair colour etc.

  Patrick made his own notes for some experiments that he planned to carry out later on that evening.

  "We will investigate any CCTV footage from the bar on the night in question Miss Stevens and we will be in touch," Preston said as they were shown to the door.

  Caroline looked at Patrick who was standing at the top of the landing and could see that he was somewhere else. Patrick could see Rebecca standing behind Caroline in the frame of the door. She seemed faint, almost like he could see right through her. She had a worried expression on her face. Patrick tried to put it to the back of his head for the time being.

  "We will do our best to catch this person Caroline," he said.

  Please do, before someone else gets hurt. It was Rebecca who replied to Patrick's words.

  Sixteen

  The invisible man

  Patrick, Preston and Lang walked down the stairs in silence after questioning Caroline Stevens. It wasn't till they got into the car that Preston turned to face Patrick and said, "So what kind of stuff were you picking up in there? And don't tell me nothing I could see it in your face that you were getting something."

  Patrick saw Lang roll his eyes in the rear view mirror and he tuned to face him too.

  "For god sake, I feel like I'm the criminal here," he laughed it off.

  "Well?" Preston pushed.

  "Yes, I did pick up a few things in the flat and I took some notes of my own, so that I don't forget any details."

  "So do we have to use the torture technique or are you going to tell us willingly?" Lang said.

  You're a pain in my neck Lang, Patrick thought to himself before he replied. "I saw Rebecca, not very clearly, but she did speak to me." He waited for a sarcastic response from Lang. When it didn't come he continued. "She said that she wants us to solve this so that nobody else gets hurt."

  "Ok, so what is your next step?" Preston seemed genuinely interested. Lang listened purely out of curiosity as to what Patricks reply would be.

  "Forgive me if I am wrong but shouldn't I be asking that question, you are the police after all?" Patrick said.

  "And forgive me if I'm wrong," Lang started, "but aren't you the psychic who said you could help solve this?"

  Preston sighed loudly through frustration and said, "Are we really going to do this?"

  Lang turned back to face the windscreen and said nothing.

  "I am going to
conduct a few experiments," Patrick felt numb. Nervousness took over him, a feeling of scrutiny from both officers. He knew Lang was probably a lost cause, but he was surprised by Preston's persistence however, he knew that Preston was much more on side than Lang was and probably ever would be.

  He hadn't felt like this since before he met Jodie all those years ago. For the first time in years he was going to have to prove himself to a complete sceptic and he knew it was going to be a hell of a job.

  The fact that he had to do it through helping to solve a murder case was making him feel physically sick.

  What if I fail? What if I cannot find them the justice they deserve? he thought.

  "What kind of experiments?" Lang asked, not turning to face him as he spoke.

  "Well I was thinking of trying automatic writing, and perhaps if that isn't enough then a séance?" That sounded like I was asking permission, he thought to himself.

  "Do we have to be there?" Lang sounded a little concerned now.

  "Of course we do, we need to see the proof that he is genuine so we can report back to the DCI in charge," Preston said.

  "You're not scared are you?" Patrick mocked and Preston laughed.

  "Don't be stupid, of course I'm not, I just think it's a whole lot of shit that I can't be bothered with!" Lang turned to face Patrick again, almost as if he was defending himself against the mocking and Preston laughed as he switched on the engine.

  "Look, I can tell that you are not entirely happy about my involvement Jim, but I have my own spiritualist church. You are both welcome to come tonight and sit through a service. No need to participate, just to watch and see what this is all about," he said flicking through his notes.

  "We will be there Patrick, just name the place." Preston put the car into first and pulled out of their parking space.

  As they drove back to the station Patrick began to think about Jodie. He thought about how this was affecting her and he worried that it might be too much on their relationship.

  But she understands this more than anyone. Surely she will be able to cope with all the stress that this could lead to. He thought to himself.

  As they pulled into the station Preston turned to Patrick and said, "So I think you probably have all that you need from today, why don't you go home and prepare what you need to for tonight and we will meet you at the spiritualist church. Please do not mention to anyone that you are helping out with a murder investigation. We don't want the press following you around for information."

  "No problem, here is the address. Be there for around eight o'clock, I'll sign you both in." Patrick handed him a piece of paper with the address on it and he got out of the car.

  "What do you mean you will sign us in?" asked Lang just before Patrick closed the car door.

  "Well, you need to be a member of the church to get in but as I am the president of the church then I will be able to sign you in." Patrick closed the door and tapped the top of the car as Preston pulled away to park in the car park.

  "I didn't know he was the president of a spiritualist church." Lang sounded a little freaked out by this point.

  "I told you to give him a chance. He wouldn't be the president if he didn't know what he was doing." Preston laughed at Lang's expression. "It will be fine, trust him to get the information we need to find this guy. I know he won't let us down."

  "You have a lot of faith, I'll give you that."

  "In situations like this you have to. We don't have much of a lead on this case and if Patrick can get us what we need then he will get all my praise!"

  "What if he doesn't?" asked Lang doubtfully as Preston parked the car and got out.

  Preston regarded this for a moment and took out a pack of cigarettes from his inside pocket. He lit one and dragged on it for a few seconds. He threw his head back and blew the smoke up toward the now cloudy sky. "Then we hope to Jesus that the DNA samples bring us something."

  For the first time during this case Preston felt genuine concern that this case was going to be one of the hardest to solve.

  "We also still have to check the CCTV from ‘My House,' where Rebecca met that guy, according to Caroline." Lang tried to reassure. He could see the stress in Preston's face.

  "Hmm. Fingers crossed it reveals a face, then the press can release the images, see if we can rake up any more witnesses."

  He took another long drag on the cigarette and held it in his lungs. It seemed to slow things down, give him time to think.

  "At the moment this murderer seems untraceable," said Lang.

  Preston stamped on the end of the cigarette and crushed it into the ground. He looked at Lang and said, "And if it continues that way, this case will fold."

  Seventeen

  An unexpected visitor

  As Ross flipped the bacon, the piping hot fat from the frying pan spattered onto his skin and he felt his stomach nip a little. The kitchen smelled like a burger van, the kind you would find outside a football stadium or at a theme park. He was making a fry up for himself and the television played in the background. The sun shone through the window and it showed every speck of dirt on the glass. The floor around the cooker had spatters of cooking fat on it and the worktops were also quite greasy looking. He finished cooking the bacon, sausage and eggs and served them on a heavily buttered role. He walked into the living room and sat down on the chair facing the television.

  He was not really watching the programme, he was just staring at the screen, thinking of his next plan.

  He smiled as he thought of his next victim, thinking of how he could add to his technique to throw the police off track.

  That's if they're even on track. He thought to himself.

  As he ate he pictured Rebecca, Angela and Michelle. He was not ashamed of what he had done. Why should he be? He was only doing it for the good of his sanity.

  "Billy fucked us up. It's only necessary that I put things right, isn't it?" he said as he looked at the picture of his mum on the kitchen wall.

  Ross Turner had started out his life as best he could, considering his mother was a beaten wife and his father was a drunken waste of a human being, in Ross's opinion.

  After Billy had gone to jail, Ross slowly became insane, but he knew that the grief for his mother had taken over. The revenge had become an obsession. It was the first thing that he thought about on awakening and the last thing before slipping into sleep at night.

  His life had become about living for his mother. Prison wasn't justice enough for Ross after the murder, torture and mental abuse that Maria had endured for many years of her marriage to Billy. That's what he wanted, justice. He knew deep down that all of the pain, loss and frustration he felt for his mother was one hundred percent down to Billy, but he just couldn't accept the fact that Maria was gone, and Billy was in prison, still alive. He had convinced himself that someone else was to blame. All of those horrible women who smelled of cigarette smoke and alcohol that Billy brought home, all of the lies, all of the dirty filthy lies that seemed to pour out of his mouth with great ease, it all became unbearable for Ross.

  Angela Noble became part of Ross's revenge, the first real piece of sanity brought back to his grief stricken mind.

  Angela Noble looked like all that he could remember of Billy’s conquests. Typical looking girl out to hurt and cause carnage on someone else. But he knew that if a Billy came along, she wouldn't hesitate to make it known that she was up for it.

  It all seemed like it was meant to be, the sun was setting and the beer garden was beginning to empty as the night began to cool down and a slight chill in the Glasgow night air sent goose bumps over the skin of the people enjoying their martini's and vodka's. For some reason Angela was sat outside on her own, with a black maxi dress and long brunette hair that had natural curls hanging around her face and down her back.

  One may have said she was elegantly presented, but not Ross. For some reason, when he looked at her, he felt sheer rage. It all happened in a blur, Ross felt like he wasn't t
he one committing the crime, but a witness to it. A witness who enjoyed watching her squirm in a chokehold, a hold that she hoped she would be able to escape and a hold that he knew he would never let go. Not until he was satisfied that the job was done, keeping in mind, a job that he hadn't even planned to do, on that occasion anyway.

  It wasn't until he saw the local news the next evening that the real satisfaction kicked in. The satisfaction of knowing that, in his mind, causing grief was to cure grief, his own grief. The grief he felt for Maria. But the pain was still there, he could feel her pain, he could feel how she felt when she heard Billy bring home the latest whore.

  One is not enough justice for my mother, he kept telling himself.

  He felt no remorse for Angela and neither for Michelle or Rebecca.

  "There will never be enough justice for you mum. They'll suffer the way we did, until I take my last breath, until I bleed my last drop, whatever it takes."

  The buzzer rang in Ross' hallway and for a moment he wondered if this was the end of his run already. Well, if it was, he wasn't ready, but he wasn't going to show it on the surface. He walked steadily from the kitchen to the hall and picked up the receiver, picking up some post that had been dropped on to the mat at the same time.

  "Hello?"

  "Son?" A familiar but gruff voice replied.

  Ross was in disbelief. There's no way.

  "Ross?" Billy's voice was clearer now than it ever had been. He felt like a child again. The fear of not knowing what to expect had crept over his skin like a colony of ants.

  Do not let him hear your fear, he can't win you over with his intimidation, you owe it to yourself.

  "I'm sorry, but may I ask, what the fuck you think you are doing here?" Ross hissed into the receiver.

  "I just want to talk to you son, please I need to explain a few things, please let me in?" Billy sounded remorseful.

  "I'm not your son, and no, you can't come in. Are you fucking stupid?"

  Billy stood outside the secure door flat and took a deep breath. He didn't expect anything else from Ross and why should he? He had been the cause of his mother's death, although not physically, mentally, yes. He had admitted a very long time ago that the lies, cheating and abuse had sent her over the edge and she had killed herself, which he had been riddled with guilt from ever since.