“You’re joking,” he says as I close the door. Then he lowers his voice. “That’s four in as many weeks. This is starting to look terrible.”
Starting to, I want to shout from the landing but stop myself. Especially with his colleague on loudspeaker. Plus, I’m not supposed to be listening. I hover around the door, poised to make a run for it if need be.
“Are you OK to come in?” His colleague’s voice echoes. “I know it’s your day off, but we could do with all hands on deck. We’ve been asked to do a press conference. The interest in this is gathering pace.”
“Who’s leading it?”
“DCI Ingham’s on his way in, but he is hoping you will support him. Seeing as you’ve had some involvement with these events.”
“What time?”
“Ten am. At the Associated Press Office.”
My ears prick up. This is my story. I need to be there. Shit. It’s Sunday. What am I going to do with Alysha? Mark never has to worry about childcare arrangements, he just does as he pleases. It’s always up to me to sort Alysha out. He keeps banging on about having another baby, but it’s always going to be my career that takes a back seat, not his.
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” he says. “Then I can get up to speed before the conference.”
I realise he’s coming off the phone so dart into the bathroom.
“I’m sorry Lauren,” he calls from the bedroom doorway. “I’ve got to go into work. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
“Are we still going out this evening?” I say as I return to the bedroom. It’s the tenth anniversary of the day we met. I bet he’s forgotten.
“Of course.” He says. “I’ll tell them at work that I’ve got to be away mid-afternoon. I think it’s mainly the press conference that they want me in for.”
“Press conference?” I try to make my voice nonchalant.
“Yes. It’s at your place, actually. At ten.”
I point my feet into my jeans then drop Lindy a text. I’ve just heard about another river victim. And a press conference that’s due to take place at 10:00. I’ll be in shortly to cover it.
“I’m coming too. I’ve just let Lindy know.”
“Is that a good idea? What about Alysha? It’s Sunday.”
“What do you mean is that a good idea? A press conference. On a case I’ve been covering is happening at my primary place of work, and you think I won’t be there?”
“My point is. What are you going to do with Alysha?”
“What are you going to do with Alysha? She’s your daughter just as much as mine.”
There’s not been a peep from her bedroom yet. She rarely surfaces until around 9am at the weekend. I’ve never known a child need their sleep so much. In many ways, Alysha has been such an easy child that to have another who presented more of a challenge than her would be a huge shock to the system.
“Do you think Eva would look after her? She can play with Heidi for a couple of hours.”
“Not a good idea to ask. Will was working last night.”
“Are you sure? I’m certain Eva said they were going out last night.”
“Well, I drove past him as I was leaving the station. He looked like he was on his way in. He’s still taking all the overtime he can lay his hands on.”
“For this trip to Disneyland they keep going on about?”
“Yeah, as far as I know. As long as they make our wedding too.”
I would be gutted if Eva and Heidi didn’t come but I’m no so bothered about Will. I don’t say that to Mark though. Perhaps, maybe Will and I will get on better once I am officially his sister-in-law. “Mum’s supposed to be coming over later to babysit. Whilst we go out this evening. I’ll give her a ring and see if she’ll come over this morning.” I rake a brush through my hair, then plait it. Mark has always said he likes my hair in a plait down my back. “She’s not seen Alysha since last month, so I’m sure she won’t mind.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He smiles at me. “Alysha will be chuffed.”
At least we can ask my mum, I refrain from saying. It is hard not to feel resentful. Mark’s Mum just goes through the motions with both Alysha and Heidi. She sends cards and money at Christmas and birthdays, and we all meet up for the stilted family gatherings a couple of times a year. Normally Boxing Day and Easter. She loosens up a bit once she’s had a drink or three, though. The same can’t be said for Will. He doesn’t touch a drop of alcohol. Mark says it’s because of their brother, who was killed in his late teens by a drunk driver. Will was with him when it happened and has never been able to talk about it. Personally, I think he should be cracked apart with a good dose of counselling. There must be someone decent lurking in there somewhere. He managed to attract someone like Eva and if he was a rubbish father then he would not be working all the hours God sends to take Heidi to Disney. Alysha will be so jealous.
An hour later, I’m on my way to the press office. Mum has arrived and taken over Alysha’s clothes and breakfast choices, and let me borrow her car. She’s going to take Alysha to the park. I’m so lucky to have my mum. Mark annoyed me when he wouldn’t wait for me or leave me the car. I want to be at the office in plenty of time to be briefed about the latest river victim. And prepare some questions for DCI Ingham. Then I will write the piece up straight away – make sure I am the first one there with it. And I don’t give a toss what trouble I get into with Mark or him with his superiors.
I drive across the bridge, which passes over part of the infamous stretch of river. There’s a large police presence and news vans have arrived already. I pause long enough to notice that more flowers have been laid. This is horrendous. I am going to give them what-for at the conference. There is no way four deaths in a month is not a coincidence. And the way the police seem to be batting it back is not acceptable.
The press office is busy for a Sunday morning. Normally, activity on a Sunday only comprises of getting ready for the afternoon sporting events. Lindy is setting out chairs and tables with one of the sports journalists and the copy takers.
“Morning Lauren,” she says. “Glad you could make it. Have you prepared some questions for the police?”
“They’re all in here.” I tap the side of my head. “Though I might sit and write them down, in case I go blank. Before I do that, is there anything I can do to help?”
“You could put the kettle on. Other than that, we’re pretty much sorted. We just need to wait for everyone to get here.” She stops and counts the seats. “We’ll sit the police at the front table – make sure you sit directly in front of them Lauren.”
“No problem. I can write the piece up straight afterwards too. My mum’s looking after my daughter, so I’ve got plenty of time.”
“Good stuff.” She glances out of the window. “Look North’s here. I didn’t realise it was going to be filmed as well.”
“It’s a growing story now.” I follow her gaze to where two men are unloading equipment from a van. “For everyone other than the police, anyway. Four lives lost this year, five last year, and the police are doing bugger all.” I look to the door where DCI Ingham, Mark and a stern-faced police woman walk in. “This is going to be fun.” But I say this under my breath. Mark looks straight ahead. We might as well be two strangers, not a couple who are about to get married, with a home and a daughter. I try to catch his eye as he sits, but he is looking the other way. His colleagues don’t acknowledge me either, even though they both know me from work functions that I’ve been to with Mark. It wouldn’t kill them to say hello.
DCI Ingham clears his throat as he stands. He looks absolutely exhausted - divorce clearly does not agree with him. “I am Detective Chief Inspector Jonathan Ingham from the North Yorkshire Police Division.” Behind him is a flat screen which bears the North Yorkshire police crest, our Press Association logo, and the signage from Look North. There are a few other journalists here, mostly freelance like me, as far as I can tell. It’ll be a race to break the biggest and best story first. Thi
s one will probably hit the front pages of the nationals now.
“I am leading the investigation into four fatalities which have recently occurred in a half-mile stretch of the River Alder in Alderton city centre.” He speaks confidently, evidently accustomed to this sort of thing. Mark looks slightly nervous beside him. He has barely looked at me since he took his place behind the table. He’s probably trying to be professional. Either that or he’s worried about what questions I’ll ask as soon as I get the chance.
DCI Ingham reels off the dates, names and times of each of the river deaths, as he calls them. “There has been some speculation in the media,” he continues, “that another, more sinister set of circumstances may exist behind the drownings. The public can be assured that we’ve investigated all lines of inquiry thoroughly. Extensive post-mortem examinations and toxicology tests have been performed in each death and as a police team, the only conclusion we can come to is that each death was contributed to by a substantial intake of alcohol, adverse weather conditions, and misadventure.”
“So what are you going to do about it? Are you just going to allow people to keep falling in and dying?” I turn to the direction of the male voice behind me.
“We are working closely with Yorkshire Water, who are in the process of installing extra life buoys and fencing.” DCI Ingham’s voice is even and authoritative. “We are also liaising with Yorkshire Council to install CCTV cameras, in order that the area can be more closely monitored. Presently, the area is not covered much beyond the Yorkshire Arms pub.”
I jump up. “This is disgraceful. I heard about your so-called safety measures nearly a month ago. Why hasn’t anything been done yet?” I don’t even try to disguise the contempt in my voice. “How many more women are going to lose their lives before you put your money where your mouth is?”
DCI Ingham’s tone seems to be loaded with equal contempt as he answers me, though I accept I just do not like him much so might be hearing something that is not there. “I am sure you appreciate that these sorts of works with different agencies take a little time to organise. There’s budget to consider and the ordering of necessary materials.”
“Under the circumstances,” another reporter says, “that’s not good enough.”
“I have been a little shocked myself with the delay,” he now says, at least having the grace to look slightly apologetic. “Because of this, I will be personally overseeing its implementation.” He sweeps his gaze over the packed room. “You can all be completely assured that the work will be carried out this week. We are approaching the Christmas period with an increased likelihood of women enjoying nights out in the city centre. We do, of course, want to do everything possible to prevent any more families losing their loved ones.” He sounds genuine enough, I suppose.
Lindy speaks next. “Are you not interested in the fact that the victims have all been women?”
“That has been noted, of course. But as a police division, we believe that is coincidental,” DCI Ingham replies. “The temperature of the river in the daytime, at best, is four degrees centigrade and is much colder at night. The river is also well known for its powerful and unpredictable undercurrents.”
“Even more reason to put a rocket up Yorkshire Water and the Council, surely?” Lindy says.
DCI Ingham continues. “All the women have been alive at the point of submersion, we know that because of the presence of water in their lungs, therefore we have had to conclude that the alcohol they’ve consumed, coupled with the extremely slippery and steep riverbank, has contributed to their deaths.”
“And yet, you still haven’t installed fencing,” someone else says. “It’s utter negligence if you ask me.”
“If someone predatory is prowling that area, no amount of fencing is going to stop them,” I add.
Mark narrows his eyes at me as DCI Ingham replies. I thought Mark was on my side. It’s not so long ago he sounded as though he at least partly agreed with me.
“We have no reason to believe that anyone is prowling the area, as you put it, but we are obviously keeping that line of enquiry in mind. When each woman has been recovered from the water, there has been no evidence of physical injury. After this fourth death, however, as a precaution, we are going to be very much stepping up the police patrol presence there, particularly at weekends, over the festive period.”
“And you think that’s enough?” I almost snort. “Four women with lives, families and futures before them, have lost their lives in four weeks. I think it’s disgusting that extra measures have not been put in place already.” I can feel Mark’s glare, but I’m not bothered. “And I think it’s equally disgusting that you’re not prepared to countenance any third party involvement. You should step down DCI Ingham and let someone who actually cares take over this investigation.”
Under normal circumstances, I would have expected DCI Ingham to be straight back at me with a response. But he appears to be searching for words. Mark was right - he is definitely not firing on all cylinders right now - he should absolutely let the reins of the investigation go.
There is an uncomfortable silence until Mark eventually gets to his feet. His face is pinched as he stands beside DCI Ingham. “You can all be reassured,” he begins, “that the possibility of third party involvement has been investigated in each case and we will continue to explore any lead that points us in that direction. However, we are confident that we’re not dealing with some river stalker, but with a series of tragic accidents.”
“Some river stalker!” Lindy says, with a hint of a snort. There are flashes going off all around the room. “I don’t think that’s an appropriate term for what’s going on here.”
The stern-faced policewoman stands next. “We’ll implement the additional safety measures within forty-eight hours.” she looks straight into the camera. “You have our word. DCI Ingham, an experienced and time-served Detective Chief Inspector,” she gestures towards him, “is overseeing this. By next weekend, there will be CCTV, fencing, patrols and extra lifebuoys. We are monitoring the situation closely.”
I grab Mark on his way out. “Are we still going out tonight? I know you’re mad at me, but this is work. We have to keep it separate from home life.”
“I agree with you,” he replies. “But slating my line manager wasn’t helpful. I’m going to have to speak to him - assure him I’m not telling you anything. I won’t be surprised if he puts me on desk duty.”
“I just said what needed to be said.” People are filing past us towards the exit.
“I’ll see you at home. And of course we’re still going out. Just be careful what you report from this.”
“You policeman – me journalist.” I smile. “Agree to disagree? I might have to pinch the river stalker term though. It’s too good not to quote!”
Possible River Stalker
Since October, the lives of FOUR women have been snatched by a half mile stretch of river outside the Yorkshire Arms on Carlton Bridge. The body of the latest victim was pulled from the river Alder earlier today.
I put together a photo ‘gallery’ of the first three women with their names, ages and dates of death captioned beside their photographs. I don’t know any details about the fourth woman yet. I guess her family need to be told first.
All four women found themselves alone on the banks of the river during their evenings out – it is worth noting each of the deaths occurred in the early hours of a Sunday morning.
A more awful death cannot be imagined; falling or being pushed into dark, freezing water; being prevented or unable to climb out and quickly becoming so weak and cold that submersion and death follow.
Whilst police have offered assurances to the public that fencing, lifebuoys, CCTV and patrols will be increased, they have said that women should be vigilant and remain in groups whilst out for the evening.
The possibility of someone pushing these women to their deaths should not be discounted and pressure is mounting on the police to back up their assurances
of the extra measures, with immediate effect. It is not enough to blame alcohol, adverse weather and slippery riverbanks.
As the investigation continues, police are asking that all local businesses in the vicinity of the Yorkshire Arms check their CCTV for early Sunday morning footage on the dates shown.
Anyone with information should contact the police on 111 quoting reference 1179 or Crimestoppers on 0345 1111.
Chapter Ten
Lauren
Mum smiles as I walk into the kitchen. “How did it go?”
Alysha’s sat at the table with Coca-Cola and chocolate pudding.
“Hmm, I can see you’re having fun with Grandma.” I laugh. “Rather you than me getting her to bed later, after all that sugar.” I ruffle her hair. “It went OK, I guess. Apart from me having a dig at the Detective Chief Inspector who is Mark’s line manager. I don’t think Mark’s terribly happy with me. Is he back yet?”
“Yes, he’s upstairs getting changed.”
“At least he’s still going out with me tonight.”
“I thought the two of you had a pact. Not to let work come between you.”
“We don’t, sorry we do. Have a pact, I mean. It’ll be fine.”
“I saw you on the TV Mummy. And Daddy too.” Alysha jumps off her chair and flings her arms around me.
“Have you had a nice day with Grandma?” I say, crossing my arms over her shoulders. “Have you been a good girl?”
She nods and returns to her chair, and her pudding. “Grandma’s going to read me lots of stories at bedtime. She’s promised.”
“So they’ve already shown the press conference on TV?” I turn to Mum. “What did you think?”
The Yorkshire Dipper Page 5
