Cut The Threads: A Serial Killer Thriller That Will Keep You Hooked (DS Marnie Hammond Book 2)

by Robin Roughley

  ‘I said get out, we’re done here.’

  ‘Do you have the tattoo, Mr Rae?’ Marnie persisted.

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘That’s a yes then,’ she said.

  Rae glared at her and then she saw the sly control seep back into his eyes. ‘I have a tattoo, yes,’ he said as he thrust his hands into his pockets.

  ‘And what about the other man?’ Marnie asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Marnie sighed, she knew Rae was playing the idiot, no doubt buying time while he worked through the news.

  ‘If our suspicions are correct then your friend could very well be dead.’

  Rae shrugged. ‘It’s years since I had the tat and the truth is I was pissed out of my brains when I had it done.’

  ‘So, you can’t remember the other man, is that what you expect us to believe?’ Reese asked.

  ‘That’s about the size of it.’

  Marnie knew Rae was lying, it was written all over his sour face. ‘You do realise that by keeping your mouth closed you could be endangering your own life?’ she asked.

  Rae threw his head back and laughed. ‘Piss off, you standing there acting all dramatic won’t make a blind bit of difference.’

  The sound of tyres spinning on gravel filled the air and Marnie glanced towards the large picture window just as a black BMW slewed sideways in front of the house. Seconds later, the driver’s door opened and a man dressed entirely in black leapt out, a ski mask covering his face, a black bag hanging from his right hand.

  ‘What the fuck!’ Rae snarled as the man sprinted forward and hurled the bag at the window.

  Before it hit, Marnie was racing across the room and down the hallway, the sound of breaking glass and Rae’s bellow following her.

  By the time she had yanked the front door open, the car was hurtling away down the driveway, gravel spitting from the spinning tyres, vanishing behind the bank of bushes before she could make a note of the registration.

  When she glanced across it was to see Rae’s face appear at the broken window, his complexion livid with rage.

  Turning, she headed back into the house; when she reached the lounge, Rae was still at the window, his hands bunched into fists, Reese was on his haunches, the bag at his feet amongst the shards of broken glass.

  ‘I’ll kill the fucker!’ Rae roared as he spun around. ‘Did you see what that cunt did? He broke my window, my fucking window!’

  Ignoring him, Marnie walked over to her boss, he glanced up at her and raised a questioning eyebrow.

  ‘Sorry, by the time I got outside they were gone,’ she explained.

  The DCI nodded and turned back to the rucksack.

  Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a pair of thin latex gloves and slipped them on. Easing the zip open slowly, he grimaced as the fetid stink bloomed into the air.

  Marnie felt her skin crawl and then Reese ripped the zip down. The sightless and bloodied eyes stared up at them from the sawn-off head, cocooned in a nest of severed hands and feet.

  18

  Emma Winstanley looked up nervously as Polly walked into her room, the tall man hovered in the doorway as if waiting to be given permission to enter.

  She sat perched on a neatly-made single bed, her fingers plucking at the duvet, her eyes downcast.

  ‘Emma, this is the man I was telling you about, he’d like to ask you a few questions if that’s OK?’

  The girl glanced up and nodded, her young face engraved with fear, before looking back down at fingernails that were chewed to the quick.

  Conway walked into the room, closing the door behind him as he sat down in a chair facing the bed, Polly eased down by Emma’s side like a protective mother waiting to put a stop to proceedings if they got out of hand.

  ‘Hello, Emma, my name is Tom,’ he paused waiting for her look up at him, after a few seconds she raised her eyes.

  ‘I don’t know what happened to Mr Hall or Rowan,’ she whispered.

  ‘I realise that but I need to know the name of the man who came here looking for you, the one that John threw out?’

  Emma’s hands twisted in her lap, her eyes darting around the room, anxiously chewing on her bottom lip.

  ‘Are you the police?’ she whispered nervously.

  Conway smiled. ‘No, Emma, I’m a friend of John’s, in fact I’m Rowan’s godfather, I’m just trying to find out what’s happened to them both.’

  Emma looked pained. ‘Rowan mentioned you, she said you were in the army.’

  ‘Did you and Rowan talk a lot?’ he asked.

  This time Emma nodded. ‘Rowan was like a kid sister to me.’

  Conway resisted the urge to lean forward in the seat. ‘Before she disappeared, how did she seem to you?’

  Emma licked her lips, her hands still pulling at one another like squabbling siblings. ‘She was fine.’

  ‘She wasn’t worrying about anything?’

  ‘No, she was her usual self, I mean, Rowan never moaned like some kids do at that age. She was always happy, you know?’

  ‘And what about her father, did Rowan ever mention any problems between them?’

  Polly frowned but Conway ignored her as Emma shook her head.

  ‘No, Rowan loved her dad.’

  Conway glanced around the small room before looking back at Emma. ‘Can I ask about the man who came here looking for you?’

  The scowl on Polly’s face deepened, the colour drained from Emma’s as she screwed her eyes closed for a moment.

  ‘He’s not a nice man,’ she replied quietly.

  ‘Was he your boyfriend?’

  The silence stretched out, Conway watched as the teenager seemed to shrink in on herself, her shoulders rounded, her head bowed again.

  Polly pulled her closer as the tension in the room increased. ‘You don’t have to answer, Emma.’

  Conway folded his arms and waited.

  ‘But this could help us find out what happened to John and Rowan,’ Polly added.

  Emma looked sideways, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘I thought he was my boyfriend,’ she paused, ‘but all he ever did was use me.’

  Polly gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze, her eyes full of empathy.

  Conway felt the anger sparking in his head yet he remained unmoving in the chair, his face impassive.

  ‘Can you tell me his name?’ he asked.

  Emma shook her head. ‘You don’t understand, he’d kill me if he knew I’d grassed him up.’

  Conway thought for a moment before replying. ‘When you needed somewhere safe John Hall provided it for you, he did it because he believes in helping people no matter what the cost – now it’s your turn to return the favour.’

  The tears spilled over and ran down her pale cheeks, Polly glowered at Conway, he could feel her eyes boring into him, her lips set in a stern pout of disapproval.

  Emma shivered a sigh as she looked at the tall man sitting easily in the chair. ‘His name’s Dave Hamer, I thought he loved me but he never did, it was just a way to get me where he wanted me.’

  ‘I take it this Hamer is older than you?’ Conway asked.

  Emma ran a hand under her dripping nose. ‘I hated being at home, my dad died three years ago and mum started seeing this creepy guy. I didn’t like him, I tried telling her what he was like but she wouldn’t listen,’ she looked at Conway with despair in her eyes. ‘Then I met Dave, he was about twenty-seven and …’

  ‘How old are you?’ Conway interrupted.

  ‘Sixteen,’ she mumbled.

  Conway sighed. ‘Do you have an address for Hamer?’

  Emma shook her head. ‘Not really, he moves around a lot, he told me he worked on the doors at a couple of clubs in town but it turned out he had at least five other girls like me.’

  ‘He provided the house or flat?’

  Emma’s tear-filled eyes widened slightly. ‘It was a flat across town, I thought he lived there and I was moving in with him but, like I said, he lied ab
out everything.’

  ‘What about drugs?’

  Emma nodded. ‘At first, we’d just chill with a bit of weed, you know? Then he got me to try coke and then the men started to call at the flat and I didn’t know what was happening until it was too late. Every time I tried to get away he would drug me and the men just kept turning up one after another and …’ she burst into floods of tears.

  Polly held the girl as she cried, part of her was angry at Conway for pushing Emma, though another part admired the fact that he had got the girl to talk. Whenever Polly had tried to get her to open up, Emma had walked away and locked herself in her room, refusing to speak about her past or what had led her to the doors of the hostel.

  ‘Just one more thing, Emma,’ Conway leaned forward in the chair. ‘I take it Hamer has a local, somewhere he drinks with his mates?’

  Emma sniffed and wiped her teary eyes on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. ‘I met him in the Bull in town and I know he went there a lot.’

  Conway reached out a hand and Polly watched in amazement as he wiped the tears from Emma’s cheeks with his fingertips. ‘You want to lead a normal life but you’re scared to leave in case Hamer catches up with you?’

  Emma looked at the brown-eyed man as if hypnotised. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  Conway got to his feet. ‘Don’t worry, Hamer won’t be bothering you again.’

  ‘But …’

  Both women watched, amazed, as Conway turned away and walked from the room, closing the door quietly as he left.

  Polly frowned at the parting words, Emma continued to sniff, the tears sliding down her pale cheeks.

  ‘Do you believe him?’ Emma asked.

  Polly found herself nodding. ‘Yes, Emma, I believe him,’ she replied and then shivered as if caught in an icy blast.

  ‘Good,’ Emma hissed, with more than a hint of venom.

  19

  Rae stood in the middle of the back garden, iPhone clasped to his right ear.

  Stevie Harrow’s voice drilled into his head. ‘What do you mean, someone threw a bag through the window?’

  Rae’s fury boiled over. ‘What part of that do you fail to understand, you thick cunt, I had the filth here and …’

  “The filth?” Harrow interrupted.

  Rae walked forward across the grass, his mind still full of the images of the dark BMW pulling up and then the masked man leaping out and smashing the window.

  ‘What was in the bag?’ Harrow asked.

  His words brought Rae to a halt. ‘Body parts,’ he spat.

  ‘Fuck me!’

  ‘Where’s Acton?’

  ‘He’s driving, that’s why I answered the phone, we’re just heading over to Grafton,’ Harrow replied.

  Rae sighed. ‘Right, change of plan, I want everyone at The Crown, ASAP, and that means every fucker, no excuses. You wait until I get there, is that simple enough for you?’

  ‘No worries, boss,’ Harrow said.

  Rae grunted.

  ‘What I don’t get is what the plod were doing at the house?’ Harrow asked.

  Rae thought about answering and then the bitch copper appeared at the back door and started to walk towards him over the close-cropped grass.

  ‘Just make sure everyone is there,’ he growled into the phone before stabbing at the screen.

  Marnie came to a halt, her eyes watchful. ‘Who were you ringing?’ she asked.

  ‘None of your business,’ Rae snarled as he slid the phone into his pocket. ‘Now, what are you going to do about all this?’ he asked, waving a hand at the house.

  ‘We need you to look at the remains.’

  ‘Why me?’ Rae asked in surprise.

  Marnie tilted her head. ‘Look, I know you hate the police and the last thing you would ever consider doing is helping us do our job …’

  ‘You got that right,’ Rae interrupted with a heavy scowl.

  ‘But this is different and you know it,’ Marnie carried on without pause.

  He looked at her with his hard, unflinching eyes, Marnie held his gaze and then Rae shrugged his heavy shoulders.

  ‘OK, let’s get this over with,’ he said as he strode past her.

  Marnie followed, her stomach still twisted in knots from having seen the grisly contents of the bag. Rae strode through the French doors with Marnie on his heels, Reese still standing in the centre of the room, the bag on the floor. Rae glared at him as he walked over. Reese was blocking his path, Rae came to a halt, his face dark with anger. Through the broken window Marnie saw Doc Kelly pull up at the front of the house, before climbing out.

  ‘If you want me to look then you’d better move out of my bloody way,’ Rae demanded.

  Reese didn’t budge. ‘If you recognise the remains, then we would like to know who it is, that’s the deal.’

  “Deal?” Rae asked with a frown.

  ‘If you don’t think you can cooperate then you don’t get to look in the bag.’

  Kelly appeared in the doorway to the large room, his eyes widening as the tension crackled between the two men. Rae looked like an overgrown kid who had been told that he couldn’t have his ball back, his complexion became blotchy, his lips pressed into a thin line. Then he nodded sharply and Reese stepped to one side, Rae moved forward; looking down into the bag the gasp caught in his throat as Tam Whitlow looked up at him with his one good eye, the other blood red and blistered, his grey tongue protruding from his stretched mouth.

  ‘Well?’ Reese asked.

  Rae’s hands bunched into shaking fists, his teeth clamped in fury, now he knew why Tam hadn’t been answering his phone. His mind was swamped with memories, he had known Whitlow for years, they had been no more than rag-arsed kids when they had first met. Both sharing a natural urge to escape the two-up, two-down slums, both coming from broken homes with not a pot to piss in.

  ‘Mr Rae?’ Reese prompted.

  Jimmy Rae never heard the question, he was thinking about the last time he had seen Tam. They had been having a bevvy in the Bull with the rest of the lads, Tam had been knocking back the Guinness with not a care in the world yet now his head, hands, and feet were stuffed into a rucksack like badly-packed shopping. The fury that had been bubbling below the surface hardened and Rae pushed it down into his gut, nurturing the hatred for those responsible for killing one of his oldest friends.

  Marnie watched the turmoil on Rae’s face, the anger, the fury, then a kind of deep sadness that quickly vanished leaving a coldness behind.

  ‘His name’s Tam Whitlow,’ Rae eventually replied in a voice thick with emotion.

  ‘Friend of yours?’ Marnie asked quietly.

  Rae glanced at her and nodded. ‘Yeah, a friend of mine.’

  ‘When was the last time you saw Mr Whitlow?’ she asked.

  ‘Two nights ago,’ he cleared his throat. ‘We had a couple of drinks in town.’

  ‘Do you know if Mr Whitlow had any enemies?’

  Rae glanced at her, his face twisted into a snarl. ‘No comment.’

  Marnie sighed. ‘This isn’t the time to keep things to yourself, if you have any idea who would do something like this then we need to know about it.’

  Rae snorted a laugh and shook his head. ‘Even if I did, do you really think I’d tell the likes of you?’

  Marnie gave a slight shrug as the SOCO van pulled onto the gravel driveway. Reese flicked his head towards the door.

  ‘I want the body parts removed and checked ASAP,’ Reese said as he brushed past the doctor.

  ‘Will do,’ Kelly replied as he stepped into the room.

  They reached the front door just as two men climbed from the van, one of them heading to the rear as the second walked towards them. Robert Miller smiled at Marnie. ‘What do you want us to do?’ he asked as he came to a halt.

  Reese hooked a thumb over his shoulder towards the house. ‘We have a rucksack thrown through the front window. The bag contains human remains, Doc Kelly will be removing them shortly for analysis, so I want you take t
he chance to have a nosey around and if you come across anything then I want to know about it.’

  Robert nodded as his colleague approached with the scene of crime suits.

  As the two men slipped them on, Reese and Marnie walked back towards the pool car. A few seconds later, she was behind the wheel, Reese in the passenger seat.

  ‘We’ll get bugger all out of Rae so I want you to find out all you can about this Tam Whitlow.’

  Marnie looked back towards the house, she could see Rae standing statue-like in the centre of the room.

  ‘He’ll go on the rampage over this,’ she said with a sigh.

  The DCI rubbed at his tired eyes, his mind on high alert. ‘It has to be gang related, and I think we can assume that Tam Whitlow spilled the beans about Rae before he died.’

  Marnie grimaced as she thought of the man tied to the chair desperate to stay alive, willing to say anything and yet in the end it had done him no good.

  ‘And you’re sure there’s no one local who would do something like this?’

  Marnie shook her head as Doc Kelly came out the house carrying the rucksack in his latex-gloved hands, he looked like a travelling salesman heading out for a road trip trying to sell his wares.

  ‘Rae has this town sewn up tight, everyone local knows what he’s like, they know he takes no prisoners, so it has to be someone who either doesn’t know what he’s like or they know and don’t care.’

  ‘Neither of which is a comforting thought,’ Reese replied as he clicked open the door. ‘Right, I’ll have another word with Rae and then get a lift with Kelly, you concentrate on Whitlow.’

  Climbing out, he slapped a hand on the roof, Marnie clicked the seat belt into place, started the engine and drove away down the gravel drive. Glancing in the mirror, she saw Kelly and Reese deep in conversation; Jimmy Rae appeared at the front door, his face like thunder.

  ‘Marvellous,’ she said, flicking on the sidelights as the sun began to fade, the darkness bleeding into the light.

  20

  Tom Conway pulled up to the kerb just as the streetlights spluttered to life. Yanking on the handbrake, he looked across the road at The Bull public house. The door was open, spilling hazy light out onto the pavement, blurred images moved behind the frosted glass of the grimy windows. Climbing out, he crossed the road, hesitated for a moment then entered the pub, the smell of old, spilled beer wafted into his face – despite the smoking ban the air was laced with cigarette smoke.