The Girls in the Woods

by Helen Phifer

  Claire spoke up.

  ‘He was just checking if I needed anything, like a drink.’

  ‘Sorry, I was just being polite. As long as you’re okay then I’ll get going. If you ever need anything just come and knock on the door. There’s always someone in.’

  He completely blanked Will, turned around and walked back towards his house. His heart was racing even more. What was wrong with him? He’d very nearly screwed everything up and he hadn’t even realised what he’d been about to do. Was this what losing your mind felt like, taking stupid risks? Was he wanting to get caught, because he was going the right way about it if he was. He began to walk faster; Jo had better have cleaned up the mess; if that nosy bastard copper came to the house he’d have a field day.

  Will waited until the man was out of earshot.

  ‘Do you know him at all?’

  ‘Nope, never seen him before in my life. Why?’

  ‘There’s something about him and I can’t put my finger on it – well, apart from the fact that I think he beats his wife and he lives directly in front of our two graves.’

  ‘Really? That’s a shame because he seems nice. I mean he’s nice to look at and his face is friendly. Are you sure he batters her?’

  ‘Well, not one hundred per cent but I’d bet a month’s wages on it. What do you mean, he looks nice? You should know that you can’t judge anyone by their appearances.’

  ‘Ah, that’s easy for you to say. I can’t help but like the handsome guys. I like you, don’t I?’

  Will began to laugh.

  ‘Cheeky, you know you drive me mad sometimes.’

  ‘Yes, but I make the best coffee, don’t I? Anyway, at least he came to see if I needed anything, unlike a certain person who left me here for hours on my own and bored shitless.’

  ‘Erm, I didn’t leave you here for hours. I had to go see Annie. I’ve not long since come on duty. You can blame that on your sergeant. I’m not guilty of that one.’

  ‘I suppose so. How is she doing? Is there any news on Stu. I can’t believe it. Why would he do something so stupid?’

  ‘Annie’s fine, thanks. I wish I could say the same about Stu. Right, these two are going to take over from you and I’ll drive you back to the village hall where you can make me one of your fabulous cups of coffee.’

  She signed her name in the scene log and handed it over to Tina.

  ‘At least you have someone to talk to, unlike me who was left here all by myself.’

  ‘Yep, I suppose so, but it’s still not exactly laugh a minute, is it?’

  Claire began to follow Will, who had turned around and was now walking back to where he’d abandoned his car thinking she’d been getting attacked.

  ‘So what’s the deal? It’s okay for me to be out here on my own, scaring myself witless, but those two get to stay together?’

  ‘I have a bad feeling about that man from the house. I don’t trust him one little bit and I’m sorry you were left out here on your own – because he’s now just become my number-one suspect. But don’t you breathe a word to anyone just yet; this is between me and you. How good are you on the old computer?’

  ‘I’m shit hot.’

  ‘Right, well, I want everything on him. Get on Facebook, Twitter, anything else, and find out how long he’s been running his photography business. Who are his friends, what is his favourite food?’

  She looked at him.

  ‘How am I supposed to know what he likes to eat? I’m not that good.’

  Will began to laugh.

  ‘That was a joke, Claire.’

  They got in his car and she began to scribble notes down in the back of her book. A wave of sadness washed over him. This was Stu’s job and to give him his due he was pretty good at it.

  Heath went into his garage, locking and bolting the door behind him. It was a good distance away from where the police were in the woods, so hopefully the sound wouldn’t carry. He walked across to the bank of fridges and placed his ear against the door of the one he’d put her in last night. He couldn’t hear anything, which was good in a way – he hoped that she’d suffocated, because it was too much hard work trying to keep her sedated and under control. He opened the door and shone a torch inside; the girl was still breathing but she was either unconscious or faking it. He poked her shoulder but she never flinched. Pulling the sliding shelf out he stared down at her. She didn’t look too good; her face was pale and she was cold to the touch. He wondered if he’d overdone it on the drugs or whether she had hypothermia. Loosening the gag he took a bottle of water, lifted her head up and held it to her lips. It spilt all over her but she began to cough; her eyes flickered open but they were confused. She had no idea where she was.

  ‘Are you hungry? Do you need the toilet?’

  She tried to move her head but couldn’t; it felt too heavy and she was so cold. Inside her mind she screamed the word ‘No!’ at him but nothing came out of her lips except for a small murmur.

  She almost looked dead and he felt the stirring of excitement in the pit of his stomach – he would take some photos of her, now, in this state of semi-consciousness. This was interesting; he’d only ever photographed alive and dead. She looked almost as beautiful as the girls who he’d killed. Not quite, because her skin wasn’t quite the right pallor, but it was pretty close – and she didn’t have a gaping head wound that he’d need to cover up. He would call these pictures his sleeping beauty portraits.

  Lifting the bottle of drugged water, he poured some more into the crack between her lips. Grabbing a rag from the side he gently dabbed at her mouth and chest, mopping up the droplets of water. Her eyes fluttered and once more she sank back down into a deep sleep; she was so sweet and innocent. She might just be his favourite up to now. He removed the gag from her neck and began to brush her long, black hair. He wouldn’t be able to wrestle with her whilst she was on the narrow drawer to put the white, cotton nightgown on her but he could undress her and drape a simple white sheet across her naked body. He preferred them with some dignity; he didn’t like nudes and would balk at the forty-something-year-old women who would come to him for sexy photoshoots to give to their poor, unsuspecting husbands.

  By the time he’d finished she looked like a work of art, a very fitting tribute to the times when death was looked upon as beautiful and a celebration. He began to snap away, taking photo after photo and getting more excited with each one. He blocked out the incident earlier in the woods, his anger at Jo, his anger at everything… and concentrated on taking the best photos of his career. He couldn’t wait to develop these and see how they turned out.

  Chapter 24

  Annie kissed Will then got out of his car and stood at the gate to watch him drive away and leave her once more. She waved at him and felt her heart sink. She was so fed up of being on her own, but at least he was working in the village today so he wasn’t far away. She walked towards the house and felt a cold chill settle over her back; for a moment she was scared to lift her head and look at the upstairs window in case it was Betsy Baker staring back at her, but forcing herself to she sighed to see there was no one there. Something was going on but she hadn’t had the time to sit and try to figure it all out. Her phone began to ring and she answered it; her brother sounded awful.

  ‘I thought you should know that Mum’s here; she arrived earlier. I didn’t know she was coming, but she said that she couldn’t stay in France when her granddaughter was missing.’

  ‘Oh, okay, that’s good. Have you heard anything at all?’

  ‘Nothing. The last update was that they were sending an officer to the bus station to see if there was any CCTV footage of her getting onto the Bowness bus. It’s like she’s disappeared into thin air. I don’t understand it.’

  There was a loud knock in the background.

  ‘I have to go, the police are here. I’ll ring you back after I’ve spoken to them. How are you, Annie?’

  ‘I’m fine. Don’t forget to ring me.’

&nb
sp; The line went dead and she felt the familiar churning that began in her stomach whenever she thought about her mother. Everything she’d been through the last couple of years and the woman had not even phoned her to see if she was still alive, never mind dropped everything to leave her life in France to come and visit her. She hadn’t even come to her and Will’s wedding, preferring to send a quick Facebook message instead. No card or gift had ever arrived from her. Not that she wanted her to buy her anything or drop everything to come and see her – it was the principle of the matter and the fact that her love for Ben was far more obvious than her love for her. She would never treat her children like that, ever.

  As she walked inside the cottage she felt bad. Tilly was missing; why the hell couldn’t she use her sixth sense to find out where she was? What was the point of this psychic crap if she couldn’t use it when she really needed to? She threw herself down onto the sofa and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths as she tried to make her mind empty of everything so it was a blank canvas. Far easier said than done, and took a fair few attempts before it was a blank canvas. Her eyes felt heavy. She hadn’t slept much last night in the hospital. She kept saying Tilly’s name over and over until she began to feel the heaviness take over as she began to fall into the place between waking and full sleep. No matter how many times it happened to her, it always felt strange.

  She found herself getting off a bus near to the village car park. Her bag was heavy on her shoulder and she hoisted it up, then she looked around, not knowing exactly where she was. Pulling out a scrap of paper she looked down at the roughly drawn map with some writing at the bottom and a phone number. She began to walk towards the main road, where she forked left and headed away from the village centre. As she passed the shop near to the toilets she noticed her reflection and felt her heart sink; this wasn’t her niece, Tilly – it was another girl. One with long, blonde hair that was scrunched up in a high ponytail and a pair of neon orange leggings which made her wince. She had a baggy, black batwing T-shirt on and a pair of white oversized sunglasses. This girl was also painfully thin; Tilly had a much fuller figure. She couldn’t pull away from her, though, because she knew that deep down there was some connection between this girl and her niece. So she stayed, following the girl along a quieter stretch of road.

  She heard the car before she saw it. It was noisy and she guessed it would be some kind of four by four. She guessed right, as a battered Land Rover came around the bend in the road and slowed down. It stopped when it reached her and the man inside it asked if she was lost. Annie felt her pulse begin to race and wanted to scream at the girl to run but she couldn’t because this was a replay of what had once happened and there was nothing she could do to change it. She was helpless and could only watch. The man inside was young. He was wearing a baseball cap and black sunglasses so it was hard to see his face, but he had a big smile which instantly put the girl at ease. Annie couldn’t hear their conversation but the next thing she knew he leant across and opened the door from inside the car and she climbed in, pushing her sunglasses on top of her head. She was so pretty and young that it made Annie’s chest ache for her innocence; something bad was going to happen to her. Correction – something bad had already happened to her. The car drove off in a plume of black smoke and she began to cough; in fact she began to cough so hard that she thought she was about to choke and her eyes flew open as she gagged on the dryness in the back of her throat. She heaved herself up from the sofa and walked into the kitchen; opening the fridge she took a cold bottle of water from it and gulped greedily. Once the coughing had subsided she picked up a pen and paper from the table and began to write down what she’d seen – there was some connection between the man and Tilly, she was sure there was. If she could find out who the girl was or why she’d even got into a car with a stranger, that would help. She closed her eyes and tried to see if she could make out the number plate; she had been so busy looking at the man she hadn’t really taken much notice. Squeezing her eyes shut she forced herself to focus on the number plates but the one at the front was covered in dried mud, making it impossible to read, and then when it had driven away there was no plate on the back. Her niece was in trouble and the sooner she could figure out the connection between them the better. It was time to ring Will and tell him the truth.

  ‘I think Tilly is in danger. You need to upgrade her missing person’s case to high risk.’

  ‘Should I ask how you know this?’

  ‘Well, you can, but I don’t think you’ll want to know the answer. Please, Will, I’m being serious. I saw a young girl similar to her get into a battered old Land Rover with a man she didn’t know and I think that girl might be one of the bodies that you found. I need to see pictures of the girls that you think could be them, like, now. I only glanced at them briefly the other day and my brain doesn’t seem to want to remember much.’

  ‘I’m at the village hall. Can you come here?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll be there soon. Will – whoever killed them is local or was local. So you need to start looking close to home, and I think that they still live around here.’

  He couldn’t say much because the detective inspector was hovering around him, and even though Annie was a colleague as well as his wife she had nothing to do with this case and he wouldn’t want her interfering. Knowing him, he’d report them both to professional standards because that was exactly the kind of man he was.

  ‘I thought as much, and I agree; however, I can’t talk right now – but I’ll speak to you soon.’

  He hung up, making her realise that now wasn’t a good time for him or for her to be putting him in an awkward position. She wondered what had been written on that scrap of paper below the roughly drawn map; it had been so small she hadn’t been able to make it out. She thought about driving the short distance to the village, but then decided against it; if she walked it would buy her some time so that whoever had been hovering around might have left so she could speak to Will.

  As she left the house she wondered how Jo was today; reaching the village hall she saw the assortment of cars and clocked the Super’s Land Rover. Not wanting to put Will in an awkward situation, she decided to walk the other way. It wouldn’t hurt her to check in with Jo, see if she was okay and make sure her bully of a husband hadn’t been getting too handy with his fists. It was much cooler today which was a relief; the burning hot sun had been nice on holiday, but it wasn’t the same when you had to walk around in it. Finally Jo’s cottage came in sight and she walked towards it. Knocking on the front door, she waited and waited. Surprised there was no reply she walked around to the side of the house where Jo’s husband’s studio had its own entrance. There was a car parked in the drive so someone was home. She knocked on that door even louder; there was no reply. Too tired, and now desperate for the toilet, she knocked once more. This time she heard a door bang from inside and then footsteps echoed down the hall towards her. Relieved that she could use the toilet after all, she waited for the door to open and grinned, hoping to see Jo – but it was her husband who opened the door. His face was red and his white, sweat-stained T-shirt was untucked from his jeans. He had a stubble that hadn’t been there yesterday and he looked a complete mess.

  ‘Oh, I’m really sorry to bother you. I was looking for Jo?’

  ‘She’s not in. I think she went shopping.’

  ‘Ah, never mind. Sorry again, but can I ask you a huge favour before I walk back – would you mind if I used your toilet? Being pregnant is a nightmare. I can’t go ten minutes without needing the loo.’

  A scowl spread across his face, making him look much more menacing than he had the last time she’d met him, and she felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Her early warning system was kicking in, but she ignored it because he faltered and then gave her a huge grin.

  ‘Of course you can. Sorry. I was busy in the darkroom, so I never heard you knocking. Come in. I’ll show you where the toilet is.’

  Annie followed
him inside, closing the door behind her. There was something about him that seemed so familiar but she had no idea what. He led her down a dark corridor which opened up into a huge, light-filled studio with solid oak floors and white walls. Along one side was a mirror that almost filled one wall.

  ‘Wow, you have an amazing studio. I didn’t expect it to look like this at all.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ve worked long and hard to get it just right. It’s a bit of a pain being out in the middle of nowhere, but it doesn’t seem to make any difference to my business. I still get plenty of customers. In fact if you want that baby bump portrait you really need to get booked in before I can’t fit you in at all – I’d hate to let you down.’

  ‘I will. I haven’t seen much of my husband lately – he’s been working a lot – but I’ll ask him after and definitely let Jo know.’

  He pointed to a door in the corner of the room and she smiled at him, crossing the floor to get to it. There were two huge framed portraits on the wall and she stopped to look at them; as she stepped closer she felt her spine begin to tingle and a chill made her shiver. It was the girl from her vision, she was sure of it – only she looked as if she was asleep. Annie tilted her head and the shock of what she was looking at hit her so hard she felt her legs tremble as they threatened to give way. Aware that he was watching her every movement she stepped back, forcing herself to smile at him. As she did she noticed a familiar black Vivienne Westwood bag underneath a chair in the corner of the room; it was exactly like the one she’d bought Tilly for her birthday. It even had the same black and gold cat keyring attached to the gold chain. Annie frantically tried to work out how her niece would know this man or for what reason she would be here.

  ‘They are beautiful photos. Are they recent? I like how they almost look asleep.’

  ‘Thank you. No, they’re old ones but I really liked the composition and the lighting on those two. I’ve come a long way since then, but I like to keep them there to remind me of the early days.’