The Keeper

by Diane Saxon

  A thrashing movement from above alerted her. She reared her head back and squinted up at the lighter skyline as the clouds parted and she caught a glimpse of the dark outline of the maniac as he moved on the pathway above. Her breath caught in her throat as he started his descent. He came towards her in a mad rush.

  Panic clenched her stomach in a tight fist as she scrambled deeper under the recess of the tunnel, following the upward slope of it into the darkness. The pain of her damaged knee radiated through her leg. If she tried to run, he’d see her. Her only hope was to stay where she was. Hide.

  She slapped one hand over her mouth to staunch the flow of wild sobs from bursting out, stop her breath from wheezing.

  She reached out. Just a touch of reassurance he was there was all she needed. Alive. The man would go, she’d get Domino to the vets. It would be all right.

  She fumbled around, grasped something solid. Cold. Waxy.

  Bright white lights danced across her vision.

  Partially buried beneath the thick carpet of wet leaves, branches, and twigs, Fliss moulded her fingers across the unmistakable contours of a person’s face.

  Her fingers trembled as she skimmed them over the nose, traced the outline of the lips and curve of the chin, down the neck. She smoothed her hands over stone-cold shoulders and down until she encountered the obvious definition of a pair of breasts.

  The sick slide of horror turned her stomach to a churning ball of grease. She swallowed the nausea, but it still rose up her throat until she gagged. Unlike her sister, she’d never encountered a dead person before, but there was no doubt the waxen iciness she had her hand on was human flesh.

  She snatched her hand back as a scream lodged in her throat. Fuelled by terror, her mind wiped clear of everything but the desperate desire to escape. Haste made her clumsy as she scrambled to her feet and turned back the way she had come, her priority no longer to hide, but to run. To escape.

  The black shadow of a man stopped her dead in her tracks as he filled the entrance to the tunnel, flicked on a bright white flashlight to blind her and reached for her.

  He picked out the pale glow of her face in the light of his torch and traced the arc of it down her body as she crouched in front of him at the mouth of the tunnel, her knees sunk deep into the mud.

  The stupid woman had her dog’s lead circled around her neck. Convenient for him, deadly for her.

  As she stumbled to her feet, the squelch of mud dragging her back down, her eyes glazed in the bright gleam of his torch.

  Fury, dark and dangerous, snapped through him. She’d ruined everything. It was her fault, she’d left him with no option.

  Surprise leapt in his throat as she surged forward, took the first steps to run, but his adrenaline was still high and the savage animal inside surfaced. He grasped the red lead with his fingers and yanked hard until she slammed face first into his chest.

  The thrill of power coursing back through his veins made him stronger, fiercer. He wrenched the lead, twisted it around his hand, one, two, three times, and grinned as she dropped to her knees in front of him, just where the little slapper should be. Surprise widened her eyes as they bulged, threatening to pop out of her head. He grinned with savage satisfaction as her pitiful snatches of breath gurgled through her throat and sent a stream of wild delirium rushing through him

  The crack of her bones gave him strength as he wrangled the lead, wrapped it tighter around his hands with a solid, firm pressure while he allowed his fury to command him. He’d wanted to savour the moment, but she’d deprived him with her stupid, pathetic screams. She’d not have another chance now he had her under his power. Pleasure spiked while her hoarse gasps became weaker as he held on until the give in her body slumped her forward, a deadweight in his hands. Only to be expected. He’d broken her neck, felt the crack of it beneath his fingers. Stupid cow, with her useless ideas. Just like his wife. Why wrap a lead around your neck? It was an invitation to be choked.

  He gave one last, vicious twist. Limp and lifeless, she left him with nothing but disgust at such an easy kill. At least his wife had given him years of satisfaction. She’d been strong and resilient, a scrapper. He sneered at the woman. This tragic excuse hadn’t even put up a fight.

  Untangling his fingers from the lead, he released her and allowed her body to slump forward over his feet, giving her a disgusted nudge with his boot. Silly bitch, she’d ruined his evening, then robbed him of the time he would have enjoyed making her suffer by letting out those godawful screams, which had echoed across the valley.

  Straining to hear, he tilted his head to one side and listened to the familiar sounds of voices from across the river, pitched low with concern.

  With the weight of the woman on his feet, he glanced down and pride edged its way through his annoyance. He’d killed her. He’d reflect on the horror in her expression later, give himself some satisfaction.

  For a brief moment, he allowed himself a self-satisfied smile, to gloat over his conquest and then drew in gulp after gulp of fresh air, holding each one as control slid back into place.

  He needed to move, get out of there before the police turned up. It would take them an age to reach him, unless there was already someone deployed this side of the river. Unlikely, but possible.

  The muted ring of a phone filtered through to his conscience. His heart rate, almost back to normal, spiked up again while he scanned the area for the source of the sound. He kicked the weight of the body off his feet and circled around, his narrowed gaze focused on the ground. He traced his small flashlight over the area, scanning inside the tunnel where his dead wife lay, white and waxen under the partial protection of leaves. His lip curled with disgust. He’d no time now to do more to cover her, nor look for a fucking ringing phone that must have landed screen down so the light wasn’t visible. It didn’t matter, he didn’t need a dead woman’s phone. If just it would stop fucking ringing.

  Flicking off the flashlight so it didn’t attract attention, the man turned, his feet skidding in the mulch of leaves as he leapt over the other woman’s body onto the old railway path below. He wiped his hands on his combat trousers while he considered his next move. He could drag her up into the tunnel too, place her next to his wife. Aware the insistent peal of the telephone had stopped, he peered into the darkness across the river. He couldn’t risk any more time. He needed to get out of there.

  As a familiar voice emerged from the undergrowth, every muscle in his body froze.

  ‘Hello, this is Detective Sergeant Jenna Morgan. I’m sorry I’m not available to take your call, but please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.’

  ‘Fuck it.’

  A long beep sounded in the darkness as he whipped his head around to stare at the crumpled form behind him, the rush of wild water spun through his head, making it reel.

  Stupid cow, what the hell was she doing here?

  He gave the body a vicious kick.

  The soft sigh of a moan floated up to him and his pulse rate shot up. He listened for another sound, but there was nothing. He’d killed her. She was dead. She had to be. Perhaps it was just his imagination.

  He leaned in, pushed the lead out of the way and placed two fingers against the side of her neck. The thready flutter of a pulse danced beneath his fingertips.

  She was still alive. Fuck.

  With a quick glance over the river, he made a decision as he squatted next to her body.

  If he hurried, he could take her. Fate had possibly dealt him a good hand for a change. He could take her home.

  Keep her.

  He stared into the recess of the tunnel, focused hard but couldn’t quite make out the naked body of his wife. He chewed his lip as he pushed the fine hair back from his forehead.

  She’d be a replacement for Mary.

  4

  Friday 26 October, 16:35 hrs

  Detective Sergeant Jenna Morgan jiggled the car keys in her hand as she caught the attention of Detective Constable Mason Ell
is. Her partner of choice loitered at the public service counter. She gave a quick jerk of her head to persuade him to follow her out of the main doors of Malinsgate, Telford’s main police station.

  As he caught up with her, she kept her voice low while they passed a group of vociferous teenagers, bouncing with overexcited enthusiasm, as they crossed the concrete moat that led to the station car park.

  ‘We’ve had a report of a woman’s screams heard in Benthall Edge Wood. Dog handler was already in the area, so he’s picking it up. I think it’s Sergeant Bennett.’ Down-to-earth and old-school, Jenna had confidence that he’d investigate anything amiss with cool efficiency. ‘We’ve been asked to meet him at Ironbridge car park, south of the river, and check it out while uniform take north of the river at Dale End car park. Apparently, the twilight dog walkers called it in. They’re a bit panicked by all accounts.’

  ‘Are they the lot you sometimes meet with the daft dally?’

  ‘You know he’s not daft. He’s…’ she struggled to find the word to describe her sister’s gorgeous, dynamic Dalmatian. ‘Ebullient.’

  ‘Ebullient, huh? He ate your kitchen.’

  Stirred to defend him, Jenna struggled to be generous. ‘Not the entire kitchen. Only the doors.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  With a long, drawn-out groan, Mason stretched his body, arms above his head, as he walked side by side with Jenna towards the squad car. Jenna glanced up at him as he yawned until his jaw cracked.

  She flashed him a smile. ‘Sorry, pal. We nearly made it to the end of the day without going into overtime. Five more minutes and we would have been home and free.’

  She should never have answered the bloody call. She should have let one of the other teams catch it. Now they’d be tied up for at least an hour on some stupid kids yowling in the woods. Little buggers should be home by now playing on their iPads or glued to some reality TV programme. It was the full moon with Halloween around the corner.

  Jenna glanced at her watch and winced. Weariness had seeped through to her bones so deep, she just wanted to go home. Her feet ached like a bitch. With brand new boots, she hadn’t envisaged leaving the station. It was supposed to have been a meeting and paperwork day. A boot breaking-in day.

  ‘Do you want me to drive?’ Mason gave her a lazy smile, a cocky quirk to his lips which meant he thought he knew the answer before she spoke.

  ‘Yeah, actually.’ She gained a small nugget of satisfaction as he twisted his head to a better angle to peer into her face and, she imagined, to judge whether she was taking the piss. She jerked a casual shrug. ‘I’ve some messages to pick up. Gregg kept us tied up in some political meeting today. I lost interest after the first three minutes. I think it was to do with paper wastage.’

  She slid into the passenger seat as Mason plugged in his seat belt and fired up the black, police issue Vauxhall Insignia.

  ‘Toilet or printer?’

  She snorted as she picked up the radio. ‘Printer, but it sounded like shit to me.’ She pressed the ‘speak’ button. ‘Juliette Alpha 76 to Control. Over.’

  ‘Juliette Alpha 76. Go ahead.’

  ‘We’re called to attend on the south side of the river at Benthall Edge. As we’re on the north side, it would be quicker if we question the informants at Dale End Park as you already have the dog handler deployed on the south.’ Clicking the button off, Jenna held on and prayed for the lesser deployment as she listened to static for a moment before the reply came through.

  ‘Affirmative.’

  ‘Thank you, Lord,’ Jenna grinned as she slipped the radio back into its casing. ‘I really didn’t want to get my new boots muddy walking along the Gorge.’ She flexed her feet in her boots and regretted yanking them on that morning. ‘Jeez, it’s probably only some teenagers scaring themselves witless over there. Halloween comes earlier every year.’ She huffed out a sigh, taking her mobile phone out of her pocket, she dialled into her answerphone while Mason pushed to the speed limit along the Queensway dual carriageway.

  The first two messages were people chasing for follow-ups, the third was two minutes of static from her sister, fully furnished with background noise. She’d probably pocket-dialled her by mistake. God only knows what the heavy breathing was about. It better not be her sister having sex. Chance would be a fine thing if Fliss found a new man to put a zing in her life, but Jenna really didn’t need to hear it.

  She tapped her finger on the screen and deleted the call as Mason took the turn off down Cherry Tree Hill and hit the speed bumps with a little more force than necessary. She grunted as she shot him a sideways look. ‘This is why I don’t let you drive, Mason.’ She caught his wild grin and shook her head as she turned back to her phone.

  The fourth call was her inspector demanding to know why she hadn’t got back to caller one, who happened to be a local councillor.

  With a heavy sigh, Jenna hit delete on that as she’d already winged the local councillor problem to one of her DCs asking them to report back to her. She tucked her phone in her pocket as Mason drew their police unit into Dale End car park.

  She stepped out of the car and the cold bite of air had her sucking in her breath. It was downhill from now on. She hated winter. Fliss loved to curl up in front of a roaring fire with a glass of whisky and a good book. Jenna would far rather live abroad for six months of the year. Somewhere warm, bordering on hot.

  As they approached the group of familiar people and dogs milling around, Jenna puffed out a sigh of relief as one of the ‘old-school’ uniforms, notebook in hand, questioned a lady with a small black Labrador slumped at her feet.

  Molly. The dog was called Molly. Jenna hadn’t a clue what the owner’s name was, but they often saw each other when she and Fliss walked Domino. Jenna had come to know the dog walkers – a sociable crowd, always willing to let in another dog walker, imparting their knowledge and experience. She knew so little of their personal lives, but everything about their dogs. Little Molly who’d had two litters of puppies. Jenna had been tempted to have one herself, and then Domino had eaten her damned kitchen and put paid to her aspirations to own a dog.

  Jenna scanned the others in the group. Hope, the black and white terrier, stood with her dad, a tall innocuous older gentleman with a shock of white hair. Ollie, the Golden Retriever, still bounded around, no amount of calmness influencing his mad dash, while his owner, a short, blonde-haired woman, chewed the side of her nail as she stood on the outskirts of the small crowd, her nervous energy pulsing off her.

  Jenna recognised Henry, a retired police constable, with his three spaniels obediently at heel, faces turned to look up at him, full of anticipation as they awaited his next command. He stood apart from the crowd, solid, reassuring, and when she caught his gaze, gave her a calm wink. He’d wait his turn, knowing they’d get to him.

  Another couple hovered, their hands linked together while Punch, the mottled Staffie, panted heavily, mouth wide open in a mawing grin.

  A desperate relief washed over Molly’s owner’s features as Jenna approached.

  ‘Hey, Domino’s aunty.’ The woman stepped forward, her fingers clenched together.

  Jenna smiled in an attempt to ease the woman’s anxiety. It wasn’t something she’d noticed before; Molly’s mum always exuded a calm assurance, happy to dole out words of wisdom on just about any subject.

  ‘Molly’s mum.’ She touched the woman’s arm in reassurance.

  Scratching Molly behind the ears, Jenna scanned the group and then turned her attention to the Uniform, PC Ted Walker, one of the longest-serving police officers in Malinsgate. Loved his job and never wanted to retire. A damned good, solid PC.

  She dropped her voice so her familiarity with the experienced PC only carried to his ears. ‘What you got, Ted?’

  Flicking back the pages of his notebook, PC Walker squinted in the dull orange glow from the streetlight. ‘Several accounts. They all seem to be in agreement. The collective claim to have heard a woman’s voice shouting a
name south of the river.’ He stretched his arm full length, his hand, spade-like, turned sideways as though he was directing traffic. ‘Directly opposite this point.’

  Jenna gazed at the bank on the opposite side of the river. If it had been full light, it was close enough to wave to people on the opposite side. Or holler to them as often happened. The lower pathway, a disused railway line, having long been taken up to leave a wide, flat track, curved around the hillside from Ironbridge car park next to the old Tollhouse, all the way through to the imposing cooling towers at the power station. She’d have been able to see that track in daylight, but the murky twilight closed in around it. Even in full sunlight, the narrow, upper pathway which followed the same route couldn’t be seen through the dense thicket of trees.

  She turned her attention back to PC Walker. ‘Unusual?’

  He nodded. ‘It’s unsettled them. According to the people I’ve questioned, this shout was followed by a lot of crashing noises and then a scream.’

  ‘It made my blood curdle.’ Molly’s mum nudged closer, her chin almost on PC Walker’s shoulder. His lips curved in a gentle smile and he gave her arm a reassuring pat.

  As one of the local policing team, Ted Walker made it his business to know the residents, and this familiarity came as no surprise to Jenna. He’d know Molly’s mum. The twilight walkers were always a great source of information. They witnessed many a trivial incident, reported a great deal of crimes. Kept the place clean of minor offences.

  ‘Don’t worry, Dina, the dog handler’s just arrived. He’ll look into it. We’re taking it seriously.’

  ‘I’ve never heard anything like it in my life. It was terror.’ Reaching over, Dina took hold of Jenna’s arm. ‘Honestly, it really has me worried. The voice…’ Her intense stare pierced Jenna’s soul as Dina gripped her arm, fingers digging deep. ‘Just before the screaming, I swear the woman shouted “Domino!”’

  With a jolt, Jenna stared into Dina’s eyes.