“What the hell are you doing here?” A voice echoes in the quiet. Squinting, I wind the window down as I see DCI Ingham.
“Um. I couldn’t sleep.” I start the engine, freezing now. After all, no one is going to attack me when I’ve got a DCI at the side of me. “I came down to take some photos of the area in the dark. I thought it might enhance any more articles I write.” I can’t believe Ingham has caught me here. I actually feel sheepish.
“You couldn’t sleep? You were dead to the world just now.”
“What time is it?” I turn the heater up, but all it blows out is cold air.
“Twenty past one. Does Mark know you’re here?”
“Erm, no, and I’d be grateful if it stayed that way. I only wanted some photographs.”
“How long have you been here?” He didn’t answer my request not to tell Mark which unnerves me.
“Long enough.”
“Long enough for what?”
“Long enough to go to sleep.” I shiver. “How come you’re here? Finally keeping your word and doing some patrolling? Couldn’t you get your minions to do it?” As soon as I’ve said this, I notice a familiar figure suddenly illuminated as the security lighting blinks on. Will walks in front of the car, flanked by two young girls, towards the entrance of the Yorkshire Arms. The lighting is bright enough that even at the distance we’re at, I can tell he’s caked in mud. They must be short staffed to be pulling Will from traffic to patrol here.
“What’s he doing here?”
Instead of answering me, DCI Ingham tilts his radio towards his face. “Yeah. I need another officer down here. Sergeant Potts is on his way back to the station to change – he’s had a tumble on the riverbank.”
“Sir.”
Ingham bends down again, nearly leaning into the car. “Just go home, will you. Leave us to do our jobs. You don’t need me to tell you that this isn’t the safest place to be. Don’t let me find you here again.”
“Mummy!” Alysha bounds into the bedroom. “Will you put plaits in my hair? Daddy’s taking me to see the fire engines.” She throws herself onto the bed beside me. “Do you want to come too?”
“Mummy looks like she needs a lie in this morning.” Mark walks in behind her with a cup of tea. He places it beside me and winks. He’s already fully dressed. “You didn’t even stir when I got up.”
“Thanks. You’re a good un. I pull Alysha towards me and separate her hair to plait it. “You’re both very organised this morning.”
“I thought I’d leave you sleeping a while longer.” He squirts deodorant under his arms. “I heard you come back to bed in the night. Were you OK?”
“Yeah.” I stare at the plait I’m braiding, not wanting to look at him. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t disturb you, did I?” I’m not lying – I’m just not telling him the full truth. I hope DCI Ingham forgets about seeing me last night. Somehow, I suspect he won’t.
“Nah. I didn’t even hear you get up in the first place. You know what I’m like once I’m gone. It’s only light that wakes me.”
“So you’re still off to the fire station?”
“Yeah, the one in Shelby. You don’t need the car this morning, do you?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Since you’re awake now, why don’t you come with us? I’ve promised Alysha some breakfast at a cafe. I think she fancies a full English, like her dad.”
“Yes Mummy. Come on.”
“Do you both mind if I don’t?” I smile as I look at them. My heart always swells. I am so lucky to have my little family. And before much longer we will be married. There might even be another baby not too long after that. “It would just be nice to stay in this comfy bed and drink my tea. Besides, it’s good for the two of you to spend some time together. Daddy and daughter time.”
“OK Mummy. I’ll take lots of photos on Daddy’s phone for you.”
“What – of your breakfast?”
“No silly Mummy– of the fire engines! To show you when I get back.”
“Brilliant.” I kiss the top of her head. “That’s nearly as good as me coming with you.”
As I finish her second plait, she springs up. “I’ll get my coat, Daddy.” She races past him.
“I’d love to have her energy this morning.” I pat the side of the bed from where Alysha has just emerged.
“You do look tired.” Mark takes my hand and kisses it. He is such a wonderful man, and I am very lucky to have the life I have. He works hard for us, enabling me to chase my writing dreams as a journalist and work freelance like I do. Even when the interest I have in particular stories treads on his toes somewhat.
I probably should tell him where I went last night. Before DCI Ingham does. It will be better coming from me. But I look into his eyes and decide it can wait until he gets back. He’s looking forward to some time with Alysha and I don’t want to spoil it. Even if Ingham doesn’t tell him, Will might. He didn’t seem to see me but I’m certain that Ingham will have told him I was there. I have never heard of Will working outside traffic before – I’ll have to ask Mark about it. Obviously I will have to confess first.
After they have gone, I pull on skinny jeans and a long jumper before padding downstairs for a tea refill. I love lazy Sunday mornings. I flick the radio on and raise the kitchen blind to reveal the perfect morning beyond. Yes, it’s cold, but snowdrops and crocuses are poking up in the back garden, so spring isn’t that far away. It’s a sight I love to see.
We are pretty much on countdown towards the wedding now. It’s been great that since the new year, four weeks ago, I’ve been able to say I’m getting married this year. I’m going for my second dress fitting next month.
Steve Wright Sunday Love Songs plays its nostalgic opening tune. It is a tune that takes me back to childhood. It was always on at home when I was growing up. Dad once had a dedication played for Mum. She hasn’t been able to bear listening to Steve Wright since Dad died. I fill a bowl with muesli, pour on milk, then settle at the table with my breakfast and my cup of tea.
This is the news at nine o’clock. We are just receiving reports that another body is being recovered from the River Alder in Alderton, Yorkshire. This is the seventh victim of this river since October of last year. We do not have any information to bring you at the moment, other than to confirm that the deceased is female, and is believed to have been in the water for several hours. We will bring you further information as we get it.
Oh my God. I abandon my breakfast and grab my phone from the kitchen counter behind me. I need to find out when she went in. Could it have been in that short time when I fell asleep? Or just after? Since the licensing laws changed a decade ago, the Yorkshire Arms seems to stay open for as long as everyone keeps ordering. The landlord likes a drink or ten, and since he lives above the pub, getting home isn’t a problem for him. There’s a DJ on in there once a month and the music doesn’t stop until 2 am.
The only information coming through on-line is the same as what’s been reported on Radio 2. I’ll have a look on Facebook. Sure enough, on the ‘our town’ group, speculation is rife.
I think it might be a girl I work with, someone called Sue has posted. We were in the Yorkshire Arms last night. It was a late Christmas do and our boss had given us a bar tab.
I’m Gemma Hopkinson’s husband, someone called Darren has replied. I reported her missing just after three. Were you with her last night?
Yes. The reply is posted straightaway. I don’t believe this. She left at about quarter to one. Said she was getting a taxi.
Did you not think to check she’d got home safely?
I’m so sorry. We’d all had a lot to drink.
I can’t believe I’m sat here, watching this get played out on Facebook. I type in. I’m Lauren Holmes, journalist at the Press Association. Did Gemma leave the pub on her own?
Yes.
I’ve been covering the story and my husband is an officer on the case. I’ll get down there now and let you kno
w what’s going on.
I’ll see you down there, says the husband.
I’ll private message you my number, says Sue. I’m probably still over the limit. I can’t drive. God I can’t believe this. I’m praying it isn’t Gemma.
The Facebook post is going to explode after this, but I’m not going to sit around watching it. Then I remember Mark’s got the car. No! I hope my bike’s OK to ride – I haven’t had it out since last summer. I’m usually only a fair-weather cyclist. The tyres will definitely need pumping up.
I lurch around the garden shed and then around the kitchen, looking for things. As I try to locate the pump, I call the press office and hit the loudspeaker button. “I just thought I’d let you know,” I say to Lindy as I point my feet into trainers and search for my cycle helmet. “I’m on my way down to the Yorkshire Arms. Woman number seven has died. I’ve just been speaking to her husband and friend on Facebook.”
“Oh my God! Another one! It’s bloody terrible. How on earth can anyone say that these are all accidents?” Lindy says. “I thought they’d put fencing up and all that. It’s absolutely unbelievable!”
“There’s definitely something going on, Lindy. I’ve said this since the first woman went in this winter.” I spot my cycle helmet on top of the fridge. “Anyway, I was ringing to see if you’d be in this morning. I’m going to come straight in to the office after I’ve been down to the scene. I’m thinking of putting together a formal police complaint, but unsure how to go about it without rocking boats too much. I could do with your help.”
“Yes. I’ll start giving it some thought whilst I get myself sorted.”
“There was someone hanging around the hairdressers yesterday too. I’m worried I’m being targeted now. And it’s not the first time.”
“You’re joking. Have you let Mark know?”
“Not about yesterday. I forgot. We were having such a nice evening yesterday that I didn’t want to put a dampener on it. But the police aren’t doing enough Lindy. Despite what they say.”
“They should be at the side of that river - morning, noon and night.”
“Why isn’t the area rammed full of CCTV as well? There are only two extra cameras up on poles. I’ve taken photos of them.”
“The deaths are being covered by the nationals now, so we’ll get on the ball with this.”
“I’m just about to set off. I’ll be in as soon as I can.”
“Actually, I won’t meet you at the office Lauren - I’ll see you at the scene. How long will you be?”
“About half an hour. I just need to pump up my tyres.”
“Shall I pick you up?”
“No, it’s fine. By the time you get here and we get to the river and parked up, I’ll be there.”
After pumping up my tyres, I race back into the house to find my scarf and gloves. I discard my cycle helmet, opting for my woolly hat instead. The beautiful sunshine is deceiving. I’ll freeze on my bike if I don’t get wrapped up.
Chapter Nineteen
Lauren
Just as I’m walking through the hallway to the front door, the landline rings. I pause, debating whether I’ve got time to take it, especially since it’s usually only salespeople or Mum that ever rings the landline. But something tells me I should.
“Is that Lauren Holmes?” The voice is female and uncertain.
“Yes. speaking.” Mark always laughs at what he calls my telephone voice.
“Reporter Lauren? For the Associated Press?”
“Yes.” I’m intrigued. “How can I help you?”
She seems to lower her voice. “I know something,” she begins. “About the women who’ve drowned in the Alder.” She doesn’t sound like a crank. Her voice wobbles. “I’ve only just found out. I had to tell someone. And there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
“What?”
“I need to see you in person.”
“Why are you coming to me? Why not the police?”
“I can’t. I’ll explain. Everything. Can you meet me? I daren’t say any more over the phone.”
My heart is racing as I look for a pen. “Where do you want to meet? I was just on my way down to meet my colleague at the river. Another woman died last night.”
“I know all about it. And all about something else you need to know. I’ll meet you at the café down the road from there. The Green Teapot. I’ll sit in the far right corner. How long?”
“My partner has the car. I’ll have to cycle so it will take me longer to get there.”
“How long will it take you?”
“Twenty minutes. I’ll set off now.”
“Please don’t say anything. To anyone Lauren. Promise me.”
“I won’t. For now anyway. And beyond that, well, it depends on what you have to tell me.”
Momentarily, I agonise about what I’m doing, briefly worrying that it is some kind of set up. It could be something to do with the man who has been watching me. But I shake the thought away, lock the house up and wheel my bike down the garden path. It crosses my mind that I should at least let Lindy know about the phone call and this meeting. There’s no time though. I just need to get there. I’ll get in touch with her then. The woman sounded genuine enough and clearly trusts me. And I am meeting her in a very public place. God knows what she’s going to tell me but it sounds significant.
I wave at my neighbour as I close my gate and set off down the hill. I decide to take the cycle path to the city centre. It’s quicker out of the traffic and the scenic route might calm me down. It runs between the train track and a stream. The cold air hits my face when I first set off, but before long I’ve warmed up and am wondering why I don’t get my bike out more often. I feel like a teenager every time I ride it - young and liberated. It’s something I could do with Alysha. There are lots of cycle routes around here.
I think of her and Mark and hope they’re enjoying themselves. It’s great that he’s got contacts in the fire service to be able to take Alysha there. I wonder if he’s heard about the latest fatality yet. It definitely sounds as though it is this Gemma woman who was out on a work’s do. Especially if she was expected home and never made it. I shiver, despite the fact that I’m sweating under my jacket now.
I bet as she put on her makeup last night, blow dried her hair and chose what she was going to wear, that she didn’t expect to drown in a dirty, freezing cold river a few hours later. Seven deaths spanning only months can’t be a coincidence. And it looks like I might be about to make a breakthrough if the woman on the phone really has some information for me. I have always felt like sooner or later I would get to the bottom of it all.
Even if it comes to nothing, as a journalist, it’s time for me, with Lindy’s backing, to make some serious noise before this death toll gets into double figures. A campaign of some sort. There’s seven families for a start who’ll get behind me. Plus, I would imagine, many local women who will be scared of being out at night. There’s the Police Complaints Commission too. But I will have to talk to Mark first.
After all, it’s his direct line manager, who’s leading the investigation. He’s full of white noise, and he’s failed these women, blaming alcohol and the muddy riverbank. Personal difficulties or not, I am going to make sure his head rolls. But I’ve got to try to protect Mark in all of this. I know to some extent he is between a rock and a hard place.
I really believe someone is hanging around down there – waiting for women who are leaving the pub on their own late at night. Who is it, and why? They must be taking them beyond the CCTV’s range and pushing them in. There’s no sign of physical or sexual attack though. None of it makes sense.
I pedal faster, knowing the woman who could make all the difference is waiting for me in the Green Teapot. Then I need to get to Lindy. I could just about get my head around the accident theory if it wasn’t for knowing that I’m being watched lately. At first I thought I was imagining things. But I’ve seen someone, albeit hooded and at a distance, three ti
mes now.
I probably shouldn’t be out like this on my own, on my bike. I could kick myself for not taking Lindy up on her offer of a lift. I try to shake the thought away. I’m beyond curious at what the woman on the phone is about to tell me and wonder again why she has come to me, and not the police. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.
Gemma might have gone into that river last night, right under my nose – just yards from me. The thought makes me feel sick.
I can’t believe I fell asleep. Unless it happened after I’d gone. No one was patrolling when I first got there, but obviously DCI Ingham had turned up later. There should be more than one officer on patrol though. If they need to go off to the loo or take any sort of break, then the area is left unsupervised. Maybe that’s when the killer is going for it. It could even have happened before I got there. If I’d got out of my car, it could have been me. I shiver again.
As I get further along the cycle path, I’m struck by how quiet it is along here. The council could do with spending some money on chopping it back. The path itself is clear though. It’s normally a popular dog walking route. Yet, this morning, it’s deserted. I push on, feeling a little vulnerable. I should have probably gone the main road way. I wonder about turning back, but I’m well over the half-way point. And anyway, I haven’t got time to go back now. I’m running late as it is after pumping my tyres up.
In the distance, I see movement in the long grass. Probably an animal of some sort. It’s far enough away from the track for me to get past it, I think. I hope. My heart hammers inside my chest. Why did I come this way? I stare at the cloudless sky and think of Alysha and Mark, in a bid to quell my foreboding. In another five minutes, tops, I’ll be back on the road. I’m nearing where I thought I saw movement. I see it again. Close now. It’s not an animal. I pedal frantically. I’ll get past.
The Yorkshire Dipper Page 10
