The Yorkshire Dipper

by Maria Frankland

  “It’s not like Lauren to not have mentioned it to me. I knew about the bridal shop incident but not the café or the hairdressers. She actually reported that one.”

  “You know what she’s like, what she was like, God I can’t stop talking about her as if she’s still here.”

  “I know what you mean. I have to talk about her in the present. To refer to her as if she’s gone, is like admitting it. And I can’t. I don’t want to.” I look down at the notes I have made. “It sounds as though it’s this man that we’re looking for. I’ll pass the information on.”

  “How’s Alysha coping?”

  “I told her this morning. I don’t think she understands. Not yet.”

  “Poor little mite. If there’s anything at all I can do…”

  “She’s staying with my brother and sister-in-law. I feel guilty, but she’s better off with them for a day or two.” Her face floats into my mind from when I broke the news to her. “They’ve got a daughter only slightly older, so at least she’s got her for distraction. I can barely look after myself.”

  “I hope you’re taking some proper time off.”

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead.” I really can’t. “Although to be honest, I think I’ll give myself a few days. Then I want to be helping to catch him if they haven’t got him by then already. Have you let the station know yet about the man that’s been hanging around her?”

  “No. I thought I’d mention it to you first.”

  “Right. I’ll pass it on.” I write it down. Amanda. Tangled Hairdressers. Main Street. “Let her know, if you don’t mind, that DCI Ingham will get in touch to take a statement. I’ll get the CCTV looked at by someone too.”

  I’m back in police mode and it’s a welcome distraction from reality. As I pass through the press office, two or three of the copy takers look at me. Nobody speaks – I don’t give them chance, which they are probably grateful for. What could anyone possibly say to me? Sorry for your loss? The wave of sympathy that emits from them as I pass by their desks almost takes my breath away.

  I jump on my bike and within ten minutes, I’m locking it up outside the station.

  “Mark!” The desk sergeant, Anthony, looks up as I walk to the desk. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to see DI Jones, I’ve got some info on Lauren’s murder.” It feels horrendous using the word murder, but that’s what it was. “Can you buzz me in?” “I’ve only got my ID on me, not my keycard. I wasn’t expecting to be coming in today.”

  “Yes. Of course. I think he’s at the back desk.”

  The heavy door clicks behind me; DI Jones and DCI Ingham look as shocked as Anthony did when I walked in.

  “Mark,” DI Jones begins. “You should be with your family. Not here.”

  “Lauren was my family. Are there any results yet from the post-mortem?”

  “No, as you know, these things can take at least a couple of days.”

  “Any leads?”

  “We’re following up on a few things.”

  “Like what.”

  “Mark,” says DCI Ingham. “Honestly. You’ve got enough on your plate. Leave us to sort it. We’ll keep you in the loop.”

  I stare at him, aware that the dark rims around his eyes are probably similar to mine. I have felt sorry for DCI Ingham with his marriage split, but no paid could possibly equal what I am going through - at least he has a chance of getting his wife back. “I’ve been speaking to Lauren’s colleague, Lindy, at the press office. She says someone has been following her.”

  “Following who?”

  “Lauren.”

  “Lindy, surname?” says DCI Ingham. “I can follow this up.”

  “Don’t you want to know what she’s told me first?”

  “You shouldn’t be here Mark. You should be taking time off. Honestly, we’re on it. I’ll speak to this Lindy now. Get a statement. You get yourself home.”

  “No chance. There’s been someone hanging around her hairdressers too. Tangled on Main Street. We need to look at the CCTV.” I pull up a chair and sit before them at the desk. “So long as the nutter who did this to Lauren is out there, I’ll be here, making sure we catch him.”

  “Why don’t you leave it to us Mark?” DCI Ingham doesn’t look happy, but I don’t care. I’ve seen him make a right cock up of the river investigation due to his lack of focus. He’s not doing the same thing with the inquiry into what has happened to Lauren.

  “Look. I’m another pair of hands on the job.” I’m trying to appease him, knowing he can force me to take compassionate leave if he deems me to be ineffective. “Being at work. Having something to concentrate on. It will help me deal with everything. And I’ve got an interest in finding him. So I’m back.”

  His eyes dart to his mobile, which lights up before him. Swiping it up, he darts towards the door. “I’ve got to take this.”

  Chapter Twenty Five

  It’s Tuesday morning, forty-eight hours since I lost the love of my life. Day has turned into night and back into day again. I’m still breathing. Life is continuing, though I don’t really want it to. Brenda stayed in the spare room again last night – Lauren was her world and I think it makes the loss easier for her to bear, being in her daughter’s home.

  All life has drained from her face though, and when I looked at her yesterday, I wondered whether she would ever smile again. Whether any of us will. I should probably bring Alysha home. Helping to look after her might give Brenda a sense of purpose. However, Alysha seems to be doing well enough with Eva and Heidi, and I don’t feel like I can deal with her. I’m out of my depth. I know that sounds selfish. I’m working on it and I’ll sort it out. Lauren would be furious with me for palming our daughter off like this. Right now, all that concerns me is bringing the psycho who did this to justice.

  Claire’s still here, spending each night sleeping on our sofa. She doesn’t say much and doesn’t need to. I need her here. She’s always kept me grounded and calmed me down. She has an energy that I haven’t found in many people, and we’ve always been close as brother and sister. To the exclusion of Will, usually. Maybe it’s because we’re much closer in age than to Will. He and Dean were born close together. Then a few years elapsed before me, then Claire.

  As I lie in our bed, the smell of Lauren lingering on the pillow, I realise I’ve got a funeral to plan and a wedding to cancel. The two simultaneous realisations almost wind me. I sit up. I can’t just lie here, thinking. I need to get moving. At times, it feels as though the grief could overwhelm me. Then it ebbs away with a momentary distraction before returning.

  I notice the petrol tank’s nearly empty when I start up the car. Lauren’s always left it to me to fill up. And put oil in it. And check the tyres. I pull the glove box compartment open, looking for the fuel account card, and pull Lauren’s notebook out instead. It’s twice I’ve stumbled upon it now – it’s like she wants me to see it.

  I knew she was interested and meticulous in reporting on the river deaths, however, I didn’t realise she had become this involved. A page in her notebook has been dedicated to each of the women, detailing as much as she’d found out about them, their home, their background, work and their family. She has followed these pages with a list summarising her findings.

  -All female.

  -Age range spanning from twenty to fifty two.

  -According to circumstances and Facebook, each victim was substantially drunk.

  -All have occurred in the colder months on the same small stretch of the River Alder.

  -All deaths have happened in early Sunday morning hours, soon after midnight.

  -Victims have been reported missing quickly.

  -Drownings have taken place following a visit to the Yorkshire Arms.

  -They have all been ‘petite’ women, with shoulder length dark hair and green eyes.

  We’ve known all of this as a police force, but seeing it as a list, in black and white, somehow makes me go cold, particularly the last item on
Lauren’s list, the importance of which, seems to have been overlooked by us. To be honest, as a sergeant, I’ve had to be guided by DCI Ingham, as he has been leading the inquiry. If I was a Detective Chief Inspector, and if the buck stopped with me, I would have handled things very very differently. Definitely. There are other common themes that Lauren didn’t know about. I grab a pen from the side pocket of the driver’s side and add.

  -All victims had water in lungs and were therefore alive at the point of entry into the water.

  -No victims had any prior injuries or evidence of struggle.

  -All toxicology reports have shown very high levels of alcohol.

  -Heavy rain was present on all the night when the victims died.

  It seems likely after talking to her hairdresser and Lindy, she was targeted personally, suggesting that because she was onto the killer of all the women, they wanted her out of the way, either so they could carry on, or to get away with what they’ve done so far.

  I wish she had told me about being watched on the other two occasions. I would have taken it seriously – she’d still be here with me now. I wouldn’t have let her out of my sight. As a police force, we’ve been too quick to attribute the deaths to circumstantial accidents. It’s been like DCI Ingham has not got the energy to look any further for answers, or perhaps it’s down to budget – I don’t know. He has reminded me of a lone wolf lately- rather than conversing with colleagues, and operating as head of a team, he’s shut himself away in his office and taken several decisions on his own. I suppose he eventually ensured the safety life buoys, lighting, fencing and CCTV were installed. I know the council can be slow, but it took months.

  Lauren’s death has firmly put our Yorkshire town on the map. The other deaths were non-violent, which marks her out as different, but the fact it’s another drowning and in such close proximity to the River Alder, has meant that questions are now being asked and speculation is rife.

  After filling up at the petrol station, my next stop is work. I park up and go straight in – this time I’ve got my swipe-card.

  “You should take some time off,” Haley, one of the administrators says to me. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through.”

  “When that monster is caught, I will,” I reply, knowing I probably won’t. If I stop, I’ll only think. If I think, I’ll probably have a meltdown. No - I’ve got to stay strong and focused.

  “Mark.” DI Jones pokes his head out from his office. “I thought I heard your voice. Are you still hellbent on continuing to work even when you can have compassionate leave for as long as you need it?”

  “Do you know if DCI Ingham is in today?” I walk into DI Jones’s office, ignoring his question about leave. I need to be here.

  “No, not today. Can I help instead?”

  “Yes. It’s about the river death investigation, which I tried to talk to you about yesterday.”

  “That’s DCI Ingham’s investigation. I’m heading up the one regarding Lauren.”

  “I know. Though I think we should link them. He didn’t seem to listen to me yesterday. DCI Ingham, I mean. Do you know if he followed up what I said about the hairdresser?”

  “I’m not sure to be honest Mark. But I’m positive he will have done. Tell me what you know.”

  I slide a piece of paper across the table. I’ve already rung Scarlet Poppy Bridal shop and found out when Lauren went in for her dress fitting. They were lovely to me on the phone and offered to refund the dress in full if I didn’t want to keep it. I can’t even contemplate that right now. I also phoned Sara and found out the time, date and location of their last lunch meeting.

  I’ve written the dates, times and contact names for the café, shop and hairdressers. “I know it’s a long shot,” I say. “But can we see if these locations and surrounding areas are covered by CCTV? If she was being watched because she was on to some maniac that’s going around pushing women to their deaths in the river, then it must be plausible that he wanted her shutting up. It can’t just be coincidence, can it?”

  “I agree. And because I’m leading the inquiry into Lauren, I can get onto this CCTV without treading on anyone’s toes.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s arse about DCI Ingham.” I raise my voice. “I’m sorry Sir, but all I care about now is finding the man who killed my fiancée.”

  “Excuse me one second,” he says, as his computer bleeps.

  I watch as he studies the screen, frowning as he reads.

  “It’s the post-mortem report.”

  “Lauren?”

  “Yes, just give me a moment. It’s pretty much as we expected.” I watch his eyes as he scans down. “The cause of death was drowning. She had extensive injuries to the back of her head, where fragments of stone were found, suggesting she was attacked with a rock of some description. She also suffered extreme lacerations and contusions elsewhere on her body. There is no evidence of any sexual assault. However,” he looks at me. “Mark, I don’t know if this is going to come to you as a shock or not.”

  “What?”

  “Lauren was in the very early stages of pregnancy.”

  I was just about coping, I think. Or perhaps I was numb, in shock. But as soon as I heard the words early stages of pregnancy, that was it. I wanted a second child more than anything. So did Lauren; she just didn’t want to be, as she saw it, fat and frumpy when we got married. I’d adored her when she was expecting Alysha, though. I thought she was the sexiest woman alive, and she positively glowed with good health.

  I drive home in a daze from the station after the news, consumed with sorrow about our robbed future.

  “Where’ve you been,” Claire pokes her head out from the kitchen.

  “Nowhere. My head aches. I’m off for a lie down.”

  “That’s what Brenda’s doing too. She’s exhausted. I’ve a few calls to make so let me know if you need anything.”

  I can’t tell anyone else about the pregnancy. Not yet. I need to make sense of it myself first. I’m not even sure I should tell Brenda – it will only pile on even more heartache, but I guess she has the right to know. I’ll tell them later.

  “Do you want something to eat bro?” Claire calls from the landing. “You’ve been in there for hours.”

  I rub my eyes and glance at my watch, realising I must have fallen asleep. It’s nine o’clock. “No thanks. I’m knackered. I’ll just stay here for now.” I wish she hadn’t woken me up. I never want to wake up. I just want to be with Lauren.

  Every time I wake. I have a few seconds of blissful ignorance, then the situation steamrolls over me. Lauren has been murdered, and she was carrying our second child. I lay, staring into the dark, imagining what could have been. She would have been shocked but excited. We wanted more children, just not for another year or so. I bet it would have been a son. The name we’d had for a boy before we got Alysha was Oliver.

  Oliver Mark Potts. Our son. He would have probably been blonde like Alysha, although her hair is darkening now. It’ll end up the same as ours. Both Lauren and I have light brown hair, which goes blonde at the front in the summer. There I go again. Thinking about her like she’s still here. Oliver would have had green eyes like his mum, and God, I would have been so proud. A son and a daughter and my Lauren. Our wedding day is four months away. There were twelve people due to fly out with us and we’ve been saving for two years. It’s only three weeks since we bought the rings and organised our photographer over in the Maldives.

  We had our entire lives in front of us before some bastard killed her. At the thought of it being taken away, an anger flares in me, dispelling the sorrow briefly before it returns. Now that I’ve seen exactly where she died and know of the injuries she suffered, I keep imagining how it must have been for her at the end. She will have fought tooth and nail to stay alive, but he will have been too strong for her.

  We always seemed to know what each other was thinking and feeling, and right now, I just feel the terror that must have been coursing through her
as her body gave way to the inevitable. I would have gone in her place – I would do anything to bring her back. Lauren and my children are the most precious people in the world, and I have let them down.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  A clock in the distance strikes midnight. My mind has being going around and around for three hours. My pillow is soaked with tears. I close my eyes and will sleep to rescue me. It doesn’t.

  I remember when we met; Lauren was in the last year of her uni degree and I’d just joined the force. It was someone’s leaving do or someone’s birthday at work; I can’t remember which. And Lauren was out with some friends. We got talking at the bar and there was an instant spark. She kept looking over at me, then I noticed her friends were too. I saw her writing something down and as they were leaving, she pressed a piece of paper into my hand with her phone number on it. My colleagues made fun of me for the rest of the night. But I was over the moon. It sounds clichéd, but we became inseparable very quickly. The copper and the journalist.

  We had to quickly make the decision to keep our work out of our relationship as much as possible - with me being bound by confidentiality and her, well, always sniffing around for information. We’ve always worked hard and had some brilliant holidays prior to finding out she was expecting Alysha. We’ve done a fly-drive in America, had a Nordic cruise, and camped in the South of France twice, South Africa and Italy. India and Australia were our big dream trips to come.

  We were out together one evening for a Valentine’s Day meal; she refused a glass of wine and ate like a sparrow. Then she told me she was feeling a bit off colour and her period was late. As soon as the meal was over, I frogmarched her to the late night chemist and we were both beside ourselves with happiness when the result was positive. Now we would have a little one to share our adventures with. I was never scared of becoming a dad and always thought I’d want four kids; one would be lonely, two would fight, with three, one would get left out, so four seemed like the ideal number. Lauren wasn’t so sure though. More practical than me. Which is why I’m so surprised that she was pregnant again. The thought slaps me hard once more and I throw my head back against the pillows a few times. This is awful, just lying here. I can’t stop thinking about everything – it is all caving me in, but neither have I got the energy to move.