I can’t think straight. “You’re asking me too many questions. I don’t know what to do.” My voice is a wail. I need to keep it down. Alysha has to stay asleep. Oblivious for now.
“We won’t go anywhere until your sister gets here,” Chris says. “Is there someone who can take care of your daughter today? Give you a chance to process things before you tell her?”
I think for a moment. “I’ll get Claire to sort something out,” I say. “My brother and his wife might come for her. Whilst I work out how I’m going to tell her. How on earth do you tell a five-year-old that her mother has been murdered?”
“If that’s what it is,” DI Jones replies. “It’s looking like murder, but the post-mortem could reveal something else.”
“Like what?”
I hear car doors bang outside, then footsteps in the hallway. Claire and my brother walk into the kitchen. “I picked Will up,” Claire says. “It sounded serious.”
“So what happened?” Will sits at the table in between DI Jones and Chris. Even though he’s in traffic, they all cross paths now and then. As my older brother, I’m sure he’ll step up for a change and take control of the situation for me. He will flag up the huge mistake they’ve made. It won’t be Lauren. She’s too savvy to go and get herself murdered.
“I’m afraid we’ve found Lauren’s body on the cycle path by the stream,” DI Jones looks from Will to Claire. “It appears she’s been the victim of a dreadful assault.”
“Body! You mean she’s…” Claire stiffens and looks at me in horror.
I rise from my chair and fling myself at her, sobbing into her shoulder. Now that my sister is here, I have someone to lean on. I can fall to pieces.
“When? How?” Will stares at DI Jones. I’m not sure why Claire brought him with her. He’s made no secret of not being overly keen on Lauren and had started making excuses why he couldn’t make the wedding. But still, he’s my brother, and I need him to sort this out. His face twists into an expression I remember from years ago. “Are you sure it’s her?”
DI Jones nods as he pushes the kitchen chair back with a scrape. He tilts his head towards Chris. “We’ve seen her ourselves. I’m so sorry to have to bring this news to you all. We’ll be back shortly. We’re going to have to let Lauren’s mum know.”
“Bring her back with you.” I raise my head from my sister’s shoulder and step back. “She can’t be on her own at a time like this.” Lauren would want me to look after her. Even if I can’t think straight enough to look after myself at the moment.
“Where’s Alysha?” Will asks.
“Sleeping in the lounge,” DI Jones replies.
“She could wake up at any moment.” Fresh tears leak from my eyes as I contemplate telling her. The thought then crosses my mind that if I hadn’t taken her to the fire station today, she would have been with Lauren instead. And so would I, and it could never have happened.
“Why don’t I drop her off with Eva?” Will stands. “You need to let things sink in. Alysha can play with Heidi until you’re ready.”
I know he’s making sense. Her cousin Heidi is two years older and they adore each other. “But what if she hears what’s happened some other way?”
“I’ll ask Eva to keep an eye on her and Heidi. No internet. No radio. She’s better off out of this.”
“He’s right Mark.” Chris joins DI Jones at the door. “You need looking after first. We’ll be back soon.”
Claire disappears upstairs to get a bag ready for Alysha whilst I sit at the kitchen table, shivering. “Here.” Will slides a tumbler of something or other in front of me. “Get that down you. You’re in shock.”
“Shock isn’t the word,” I say through chattering teeth. “It doesn’t feel real.” I sniff it, then neck the brandy in one, feeling immediately nauseous but then warmed inside. I can’t breathe for a few seconds, wondering whether the brandy is going to come back up again.
“It won’t sink in for a while.”
“I’m convinced they’ve made a mistake. Until I see her with my own eyes.”
“I’ll see how Claire’s getting on.” He strides to the kitchen door. “She can wait with you whilst I drop Alysha off. Then I’ll be straight back to go with you.”
“Go with me? Where?”
“To identify Lauren.”
To identify Lauren. No, this is not happening. It can’t be.
Claire comes back into the kitchen and squeezes Will’s arm as she passes him. She sits in front of me and picks up the brandy Will has poured for her.
“You promise Eva won’t say anything to Alysha?” I say as he opens the kitchen door. “It has to come from me.”
“Of course. We will take good care of her.”
“I don’t want to see Alysha before you go. I’ll break down, I know I will. Just tell her I’ve had to go to work. Don’t let her come in here.”
Chapter Twenty Two
Brenda’s voice in the hallway reassures me in a strange sort of way. “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?” She sounds like an older Lauren. She’s always sorted us out. Me and Lauren. Silly arguments, worries about big bills, times when Alysha has been poorly. Maybe she can sort this one out too. Help unravel this awful mistake that has been made.
I stiffen as the lounge door opens. We’ve reconvened in here now Alysha has gone with Will. The news Brenda is about to hear can only come from me. I would give anything not to have to impart it. Anything.
“Sit down Brenda,” I say, with a calmness I don’t feel. I’m going to be the one to blow her world apart. I don’t know if she is strong enough to take this.
“What’s happened? Where’s Lauren? And Alysha? Have they gone out? Why have the police picked me up? What on earth’s going on?”
“Brenda, we’ve had some news that I don’t believe myself yet…”
“What?” She stares at me. “What is it Mark? Is Lauren alright?”
“I’m afraid not.” I can’t tell her. I can’t say the words. “She’s…”
“What! Where is she?”
I should just leave her in blissful ignorance, like I’m trying to do with Alysha. Instead, I can’t speak, instead the sobs break out of me with a force I never knew existed.
“They’re saying she’s dead,” Claire steps towards Brenda. “Someone has attacked her.”
“Dead!” For a few moments, all is silent. Then a wail rips through the room like I’ve never heard in my life. “My Lauren,” she shrieks. “No, no, no, no, no, no!” Claire catches her as she slumps against the wall, looking as though she might faint. “She was only on the phone to me yesterday. There has to be some mistake.”
“I can’t see her. I just can’t.” Brenda’s wails pierce the air. It will be a relief in a way to leave the house – the pain of a mother who has just been told that her only child has been murdered is agonising to see, and I can’t deal with it.
Claire rushes towards her and envelops her in a hug. “No one expects you to Brenda.” She turns to me. “Are you sure you can do this Mark?”
“I’m going to have to. Can you come with me?” Claire’s the only person capable of holding me together when I’m falling apart.
“I think I should stay with Brenda.” She looks pointedly at Will, who has just returned. “You can go with Mark, can’t you?”
“I can’t,” he replies. “It would be better if you did.”
They argue back and forth over who’s not going to come with me for several moments until I snap. “It’s fine. I’ll go alone.”
“You will not.” Claire nudges Will. “I’m best staying with Brenda, Will, you need to support our brother. It’s not as if anyone ever asks much of you.”
“Fine,” he concedes. Really, I’d rather he didn’t bother, but arguing with Claire is pointless.
“It feels strange travelling in the back of a police car,” says Will. “And so slowly. I’m normally chasing some crank up the M62.”
DI Jones and Chris don’t respond. They both just stare ahe
ad. I glance at my brother. How dare he try and make small talk at a time like this? He witters away some more – he always does when he’s feeling nervous about something. He’s doing my head in.
But I’m in no fit state to drive, so I have little choice other than to be driven there. At least, according to Will, Alysha is none the wiser about what has happened. I want it keeping that way for as long as possible. She was surprised at being awoken and then dropped off to play with her cousin apparently, but she is fairly used to Lauren and me both having to work at the drop of a hat.
If only I could allow her to stay in her little bubble of normality. Life as we knew it is over. Fresh tears roll down my cheeks as I realise Lauren’s not going to walk towards me in her wedding dress, she’s never going to become Mrs Potts and baby number two will never be born. Some sicko has brutally taken her life and when I find out who it is, I’ll…
My brother doesn’t seem able to sit still. He winds the window down, then up again. He takes his phone out, then puts it away again. He sighs. He looks at me, then looks away. Takes his phone out again. Jiggles his leg up and down in a way that makes me feel like smacking him. His voice cuts into silence. “We’re here.”
“I can see that.”
“God this is going to be grim,” he says. “I’ve seen plenty of injury and death whilst I’m working, but this will be something else.”
“Shut up Will. Try to find a little sensitivity, can’t you?” He’s always been the same.
We walk in behind DI Jones and Chris towards the reception desk. I’m taken aback at how the world seems to be going on as normal. I even hear someone laugh. I want to shout at them. How dare you laugh? My fiancée has been murdered. Don’t you know what I’m going through? We’re asked to take a seat and wait for the mortuary technician.
“Do you want some tea, Mark?”
I shake my head. “Tea? Maybe another brandy.”
I stare at the TV screen fastened to the wall. Sky news. The newsreel pans across the bottom of the screen. Double Yorkshire tragedy in Alderton. Seventh victim pulled from the River Alder. Dog walker finds beaten and drowned body in a stream a short distance from the River Alder. The deaths are not thought to be connected. I sit, silently watching it as it pans along the bottom of the screen once again. The shrill ringing of a phone startles me. Will too. He jumps up as he pulls a nineties looking Nokia from his pocket, and springs away from our group.
“Mark Potts.” I jump at the sound of my name. “I’m Kevin Sanderson, the duty mortuary technician.” He stands before me, dressed from head to foot in blue, looking more like a porter. “I understand you’re here to formally identify the body of your fiancée before we begin the post-mortem process. You’re on her records as her next of kin.”
“That’s right.” My voice sounds strangely calm. “There’s no one else anyway. To identify her, I mean. Only her mother. And she’s distraught. My sister is looking after her.” I look around for Will. He’s still on the phone and seems to be having a very heated conversation.
“If you’d like to follow me.” We all walk behind him, in silence for several minutes until we reach the sign saying Mortuary. I’ve been in here on police business on several occasions. This is surreal. I keep thinking I’m somehow imagining or dreaming what is going on right now. Will suddenly appears. I’m relieved. I can’t do this on my own.
“Who were you speaking to?”
“Just something to do with work. They’ve got my money wrong.”
“What’s with the phone?” I can’t believe I am having a normal conversation.
“It’s an old one. Just while I get my screen fixed.”
The technician rings the doorbell. “Come in,” a shrill voice instructs over the intercom and a buzzer sounds. We all file in and drop to seats in the dimly lit waiting room. Before long, a woman dressed in normal clothes has joined us.
“I’m sorry you’re having to go through this.” She says after the introductions have been made.
“We just need you to look at the lady we believe is Lauren,” DI Jones adds, “and confirm whether it is her or not.”
I’m still clinging to the hope that it won’t be. That she’ll be holed up in some café somewhere, bashing out an article or out shopping with a girlfriend, having lost track of time. No way am I about to see my beautiful, fun-loving, full-of-life Lauren, laid out on a mortuary slab.
“Then I’ll need to ask you a few questions,” DI Jones says. “If you confirm it is Lauren, that is.”
“When you’re ready.” The woman beckons to a door. “If you go through that door and then through the door facing you, you’ll be able to view through the window. Take your time. There’s absolutely no rush.”
“I’m going to wait here Mark,” Will says.
“I thought you were going to come in with me?” Typical Will. Right at the last minute, he lets me down.
“I’ll be with you,” DI Jones says. “You’re not on your own.”
“Right, let’s get on with it then.” My heart is thumping as I stand and walk towards the door. Slowly, I reach for the handle, then turn to DI Jones. “I can’t do this.”
“We’ve got you.” He puts his hand on my shoulder.
As soon as I see her through the window, I have to turn and barge past the woman and DI Jones. I get to the visitor toilet in time to barf again. The brandy burns my throat as it comes back up. I try to compose myself so I can go back into the room. Tears are flowing down my face again. I didn’t think I could cry this hard.
Chris and DI Jones stand together, waiting for me by the window. After a moment, I force myself to look. Lauren’s covered up to her neck with a sheet. Some of the blood’s been wiped away, but I can see the back of her head is matted with it. Her lips are blue with a trace of froth around them.
“She only had her hair done yesterday,” I remark. Don’t we say the daftest things sometimes? “I told her it looked nice. Thank God I did. I don’t usually notice.”
DI Jones points at the window. “Is the person on the other side of this window, Lauren Frances Holmes, your fiancée?”
“Yes.” My voice sounds as though it belongs to someone else. “It’s Lauren.”
“I’m so sorry Mark.” Chris’s voice sounds deafening in the silent room.
All is quiet between us for several moments. I keep expecting her to sit up and laugh at us for being so serious. Tell us it’s all been a big joke. I can’t take my eyes off her. This might be the last time I’m ever going to see her face. In the soft lighting, it looks like she still has colour in her cheeks. What am I going to say to Alysha? My life feels as over as Lauren’s is. I want to go with her. Who the hell has done this to her?
“Can I sit with her? I mean, in the room?”
“I’m afraid not Mark.” DI Jones’s voice is soft in the stillness, but it’s so quiet in here that it echoes around the walls. “She’s yet to have a post-mortem examination. Then you’ll be able to sit with her.”
“Who the hell has done this to her?” I echo my thoughts.
“That’s what we intend to find out,” DI Jones replies. “Mark, I know it’s awful timing, but are you up to answering just a few questions? Nothing heavy or formal. We could just sit in the hospital foyer.”
“Well, I’ve nothing else to do, have I? Apart from drive myself insane with grief. Though I don’t know how anything I might say could point you in the right direction.”
DI Jones buzzes for us to be let out.
“I need some air.” I stride ahead of the others towards the exit. “Or else I’ll be sick again.”
I flop onto a bench outside the revolving doors, watching as people come in and go out. People going about their normal business, visiting loved ones, being able to spend time with them. Perhaps getting the chance to say goodbye. Lauren is dead. I absolutely can’t believe it.
A few minutes pass before the others come through the revolving doors. Will hands me a cold bottle of water, which I gratefully take
a large glug from. He sits beside me, and DI Jones and Chris sit on the bench facing ours. DI Jones pulls a notepad and pen from his top pocket.
“OK Mark,” he says. “Just answer everything as best you can. Then we can get on with finding whoever did this. So firstly, what time did you last see Lauren?”
“Just before nine o’clock this morning. At home. I left her in bed after taking her a cup of tea. Then I went out. With our daughter.”
“Can anyone verify this?”
“Why? I’m not under suspicion, am I?”
“Of course not,” DI Jones says gently. “But you know we have to ask.”
“Half of Alderton Fire Service saw me – I’d arranged to take Alysha there to see the fire engines – she had a ride on one. Then there was the lady in Bridge Café. We went in there for breakfast. I wanted to give Lauren a morning to herself. She seemed really tired.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
“Only Lauren. Before I left, I mean.”
“Do you know what her plans were this morning?”
“Just to stay at home and blob out, as far as I knew. She often enjoys spending family time on a Sunday. That’s what I thought we were going to do when I got back home with Alysha.”
“Do you know of any friends she might have decided to visit?”
“She’s got several friends. And if she’d arranged anything, she never mentioned it. But then, she doesn’t always.”
“We’ll be checking her phone for calls and messages.”
“Have you got it?”
“Yes. It was in her rucksack. And we’ll need her laptop too. It’s just a formality, as you know. I’ll get you to sign for everything. And we’ll return it as quickly as we can.” He clears his throat. “Do you know whether Lauren had any enemies?”
“She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Is there anything she might have been involved with?” he continues. “A situation where she might have rubbed someone up the wrong way?”
The Yorkshire Dipper Page 12
