But I know what’s coming. My flesh creeps as a hooded figure emerges from the overgrown grass and bushes bordering the cycle path, blocking Eva’s path, before grabbing hold of the front and back of the bike, and shaking her balance. She is thrown off, and tries to run, but the assailant gives chase and quickly catches her.
I know he is an actor, but watching this is making me shake with terror, misery and a guilt I can’t explain. Why couldn’t I have protected my fiancée? Why did I have to go to the stupid fire station that morning?
Eva is yelling and wriggling whilst the man wrestles her to the ground. Eva stops yelling when he imitates bashing her on the back of the head with a rock. He then drags her supposedly limp body towards the stream. The camera doesn’t zoom in on his face, after all, we haven’t had a decent shot of him, but he’s the same darkly dressed, hooded tall figure, as in the CCTV stills. And he’s a bloody good actor.
The focus switches back to the studio where the host completes the story about Lauren being drowned in the stream and abandoned there with her attacker making no attempt to conceal her body. Information is given around the suspicion of her being watched in four different locations, before she was pursued in a final attack. The picture of Lauren is shown again, followed by the photographs of the other seven women on two separate screens. The helpline number is continuously rolling across the bottom.
“Why did it have to happen,” Brenda sobs as the programme moves onto the next item. “I can’t believe she is never coming back.”
“I knew she was going too far - and sticking her neck out at the probability of foul play as opposed to the drownings being accidents. We suspect this spooked whoever was preying on women by the river.” I’m in police mode again. “In my mind, the crucial link is her being watched in four different locations - always by someone in a hood, three of which have CCTV to evidence it. One of those occasions being at the river.”
“I told her to be careful. She seemed to think she was invincible.”
I think now of Denise, who is recovering. “The woman who survived a similar assault, at the same place as Lauren, was attacked by a hooded figure as well.”
Brenda doesn’t look convinced. “Lots of people wear hooded tops. You do.”
“There’s also the fact drowning was the cause of all the deaths. And, where Lauren was found in the stream, it is only a hare’s whisker from the river.” I lean over the side of my armchair to pick up my phone. Anyway, I’m going to give Eva a call. She was a bit shaken when she was here before.”
“I’ll have a word with her too.” Claire tucks her legs under her.
She picks up straightaway. “Did you watch it?”
“We all did. I really appreciate it Eva. It must have been tough for you.”
“Yes, it was. But I didn’t want anyone else playing her. She was my sister-in-law.”
“Well I just wanted to say you did really well. And to say thank you.”
“Let’s just hope it leads to the man being locked up for a very long time. I certainly won’t be walking anywhere on my own until he’s caught. And please tell me if anything comes in as a result of it.”
“Of course. I’ll be going into the station tomorrow. What time’s Will back?”
“He’s doing a full night shift now – he was only supposed to be going in for a few hours. It’s like he doesn’t want to be here.”
“It’s not that Eva. He’s always been the same. When it comes to anything traumatic or emotional, he’s off. He can’t handle it.”
“You’re so different, you and him,” she sniffs. “He’s about as sensitive as a house brick. He forgot to ask if I’m OK after the reconstruction. Oh, I know what I meant to ask – has your mother been in touch?”
“Only by text. She’s as useless as Will, to be honest.”
“I don’t know if useless is the word I’d use Mark. For either of them right now. I can think of other words.”
So could I, but we’re best not going there. As we hang up, I make a mental note to speak to him. He doesn’t know how lucky he is having the home life he’s got. He needs to sort his act out. There are more important things in life than overtime. Eva and Heidi need him around more than they need to go to bloody Florida.
Chapter Thirty Seven
I’m rostered on for a long shift today, but I have been told, and it’s continually reiterated, that I can work as much or as little as I want. I get to the station early though. I was up before anyone else had stirred in our house. I want to know if the reconstruction has yielded any results. Apparently their operators pass information straight onto us.
Theirs a message scrawled on the whiteboard in the staffroom. Meeting 9am sharp – incident room. Bring all findings re: river/stream inquiry.
“How long’s Ingham off for?” I ask Tina as we head to the incident room. As our admin, she knows everything.
“I don’t know. Indefinitely as far as I can see.”
“Does he have a doctor’s note?”
“Mark. You know I can’t give details like that out. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just - if he’s sitting on any information. You know, he must have done some work on this before he went off sick. If he knows anything that can help.”
“Why don’t you mention it to DI Jones?” She clutches her notebook to her chest. “He’s probably in touch with DCI Ingham and should have access to his files. I’m only asked to these meetings to take the minutes.”
The room is packed. Everyone wants this nutter catching. I’ve noticed that my colleagues either avoid my gaze or stare at me sympathetically. No one seems to know what to say to me. A few of them, like Hutton and Chris, are being fairly normal and I prefer that, really. Being at work is as close to normal as I can get.
“We had a significant response to the TV appeal last night.” The room falls quiet as DI Jones stands. “We’ve had several eyewitnesses come forward that believe they saw our man both before and after he killed Lauren Holmes, in the vicinity of the attack.” Hearing her name out loud is still a knife in my chest. “So we’ll be talking to those people today and viewing any CCTV footage we can for the locations they have put forward.”
DI Jones looks down at his notepad before continuing. “We’ve also had three reports of other women who worry they have been followed or watched, whilst entering or leaving the Yorkshire Arms in recent weeks. We’ll get statements from them today as well. I’ll give out roles and responsibilities before we get cracking. Everyone needs to be doing their bit, and some. Today could be the day we get him.”
“There are also a number of people who claim they know who the man is. A particular person of interest is saying that their partner has been coming in at all hours and has been acting strangely. We need to investigate these claims carefully. They could well prove to be cranks.” He glances at the board with all the photographs displayed. “Awareness has certainly been raised amongst local women to keep themselves safe whilst he’s at large, so that’s a positive thing. Mark, are you OK with me discussing Lauren’s results whilst you’re in the room?” DI Jones looks at me.
I swallow. “Yes. It’s OK.” It’s not, but I have to be here. I’m not missing anything.
DI Jones repeats what he told me the other day about the results at Lauren’s post-mortem, including the bit about the baby. All eyes are suddenly on me.
“God Mark, I’m so sorry.” Tina drops her pen from taking minutes and grabs my arm. I can literally feel the wave of sympathy.
“Carry on.” I nod towards DI Jones.
“You OK mate?” Chris calls out.
“Honestly, everyone, save your sympathy until after we’ve caught him. Then, I’ll be needing it.” I bow my head so my colleagues don’t notice my welling tears.
DI Jones goes on to add details about the forensics report, which I haven’t heard yet. “They found dark fibres on Lauren’s clothing…”
“But that’s only going to do us some good if we’ve got a suspect whose clo
thes we can take as evidence.” I feel like banging my head against a wall. It feels as though we’re getting nowhere. “Is there no DNA?”
DI Jones shakes his head. “Unfortunately not Mark. He’s been very lucky or very careful.”
“How are we getting on with the house to house inquiries Sir?” One of the constables, Ben Roberts, speaks now. He’s been tasked with social media so far.
“Slow,” DI Jones says. “The officers involved reported back to me yesterday. In this day and age, I’d expect more houses to have their own CCTV and more cars to possess dash cams. The public are sympathetic, but no one has seen anything.”
“People just aren’t nosy anymore,” Chris says. “My parent’s generation were right curtain twitchers.”
“I think one of the issues is CCTV is often wiped automatically after a set time. It’s usually not so long after being recorded if nothing has happened.”
“I haven’t really got anywhere with my searching of social media either,” Ben adds.
“We’ve spoken with the families of four of the drowning victims,” Hutton speaks next. “And haven’t turned much up, apart from a mention that the fourth victim divulged in a telephone conversation that a man wearing a hood was staring at her in the Yorkshire Arms before she left.”
“And someone at the same time as one of the victims, it was said, left with a tall, stocky man, casually dressed.”
“That’s interesting,” DI Jones writes something down. “It ties in with the CCTV we’ve got. But don’t get too hung up on the hoodie. After all, that could just be what he or she wears when planning an attack. And it is a garment that’s fairly commonplace.”
“There was no mention of one woman being stared at, or another leaving with someone in either original statement. I’ve yet to get someone onto the pub CCTV for those particular days. Hopefully, we still have that footage.” Hutton continues speaking. “The family of one of the other victims also mentioned the possibility of the woman being followed out of the pub by a man.”
“This hooded or casually dressed male seems to be the only lead we’ve got.” DI Jones glances towards the pictures of the women as he speaks. “So far, there’s been no DNA or forensics available nor evidence to suggest that it was anything other than a combination of alcohol and a muddy riverbank causing the women to fall into the water.”
“We’ll find the evidence,” I say through gritted teeth. “We’ve another three families to visit yet. And still some CCTV to look at and witnesses to interview from the reconstruction responses.” All eyes are on me. “Look I know the figures; fifty percent of drownings are alcohol related. But I know, I just know, Lauren was targeted because she was onto something that was going to discredit the accident theory.”
“I think I agree with you Mark.” DI Jones’s tone is cautious. “But I think we need to keep an open mind. The lack of forensic evidence with the drownings is a problem.”
“If CCTV had been properly installed when it was needed, we would have all the evidence we needed now.” My fists ball with frustration. “And if the additional patrols had been organised straight away, we might have caught the man responsible. There is more evidence. And I’m going to find it.”
As we all file out of the room at the end of the meeting, my phone beeps with a text from Claire. The funeral home has rung. We can go and see Lauren if we want to.
I catch Hutton’s elbow in the corridor. “Do you mind if I get off for the day?”
“Not at all. You OK? Sorry Mark – daft question. Again.”
“We’ve had a call from the funeral home. I’m off to see Lauren.”
“God, I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” He squeezes my shoulder.
“Don’t even try to.” Several people pass us. “Listen. Do you mind leaving the rest of the family meetings until tomorrow? I really want to be there, but this, it feels like something I’ve got to do today.” My voice is wobbling and I know that I need to get out of here.
“As none of the other families have given us anything much new, I’m sure it can wait till then, Chris and I can get on with checking the CCTV today. I’m thinking if there is a killer, he knows what he’s doing. If we turn anything up, I’ll get a message to you.”
“Thanks.”
“Have you got someone to go with you?” He calls after me.
I turn around. “Yes. My sister.”
“I will come into the room with you Mark.” Claire shuffles from foot to foot in front of the undertaker’s desk. “To see Lauren, I mean. I’ve changed my mind. It might help me accept that she’s gone. I still keep expecting her to burst into the house, large as life.”
“I know what you mean. But are you sure? I won’t think any less of you if you don’t. Even Brenda decided she couldn’t see her.”
“I reckon she’ll change her mind before the funeral. I’m just scared. I’ve never seen anyone who’s died before. If you remember, I couldn’t even see Dean when…”
“I know. If it gets too much, just come back out here again.”
“I can’t believe we’re having to do this.” She plucks a tissue from the box on the desk. “I really can’t.”
“We can offer you a date for the funeral now.” The undertaker flicks open a diary. “Now that Lauren’s here with us. Is a week tomorrow any good? 11:40 am?”
I want to say, how can anything be any good? My fiancée is dead. Instead, I mumble OK and stare at the press announcement in front of me, the words jumbling in front of my stinging eyes. We can publish it now that we have the funeral details. I’m absolutely sick of crying. I am supposed to be checking it, but I can’t focus.
She writes the date and time on a card and slides it towards Claire as though it’s a dental appointment. “Just so you’ve got it written down,” she says. “I know it can be difficult to remember things when everything is upside down. Did you decide on any readings you would like, and music? There’s the flowers to choose as well?”
I haven’t got a clue. I don’t admit that I’ve not even thought about stuff like that. “Erm, no. I’ll come back with Lauren’s mum to discuss them. She should be part of it.”
“Very wise.” she snaps her diary shut and smiles.
What is there to smile about? Now I’m feeling like I want to shout at her. But I swallow my anger and say, “when we go in,” then hesitate. “Is she in, like, the coffin?” I’ve seen people dead in the course of my work, but someone laid, funeral-ready is another matter. This is the second time it has been someone I loved. I was only fourteen when Dean got mown down by a drunk driver. Although there was a sizeable age gap between us – it was horrendous. I admit it was far worse for Will though, having being hit by the car as well. It’s why I make allowances for how detached he is – Dean’s death made it hard for him to get close to people. Even his wife and daughter, at times. It’s also made him vehement at work in the traffic division. It has given him a mission.
“Yes. She’s ready for her final journey - wearing her wedding dress. She looks absolutely beautiful.”
Claire sounds as though she is choking on a sob. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. It’s like a bad dream.”
“I’ll check she’s ready for you.” The undertaker rises from her chair and walks silently across the carpet. I’m baffled when she knocks on the door saying room two, and walks in. I hear her speaking inside the room. Claire and I look at each other, clearly the same thought is whizzing through her head as mine.
“Is someone already in with Lauren?” I ask as she re-emerges.
“No, that was just me talking,” she replies. “I was letting her know you’re here.”
“Why did you knock on the door?” Claire has the same baffled expression I probably have.
“It’s just a mark of respect.”
“Oh.”
“If you’d like to follow me. I’ll take you in.”
Claire firstly grips my arm then hangs back behind me. It’s like when we were kids and
going into the local woods on the edge of town.
I walk in behind the undertaker, gobsmacked at the sight in front of me. Framed in a white coffin, wearing a dress that was meant for the Maldives sunshine, is the love of my life. They’ve plaited her hair as we asked, and it looks as though they’ve put a hint of make-up on her.
When I saw Lauren in the hospital mortuary, her eyes were open a fraction, but they’ve now been sealed. Her mouth looks odd – I think they’ve sealed that as well. Her hands are clasped across her chest, nails still painted with the pink varnish she’d put on a day or two before she died. I remember moaning at her about how strong the nail varnish smelt.
“Oh my God.” Claire gasps, her hand flitting to her mouth.
“I’ll leave you to spend some time with her,” says the undertaker. “Take as long as you want and I’m just out here if you need anything.”
I notice a long-stemmed red rose at the side of Lauren in the coffin. I’m just about to ask if anyone else has been in to see her, but the door has already closed.
“Oh Mark.” Claire clasps my arm. “Poor Lauren. She looks so…”
“Dead?”
“Yes, but she looks peaceful too.”
“Considering what she’s been through. At least we can’t see the injury at the back of her head now.”
I can’t take my eyes off her. My guts feel tightly twisted, perhaps it’s the swell of love I suddenly feel. “Look at her dress,” I say to Claire. “It’s stunning.”
“Just like she was,” Claire turns and looks at the coffin lid. I follow her gaze. Lauren Frances Holmes. Born 2nd July 1988. Died 26th January 2020.
I shudder as I imagine the all-too-near a time when that coffin lid is put over her for the last time and I never get to see her face again.
“I’ve heard people are supposed to look like they’re sleeping when they’ve died.” Claire whispers in the silence of the room.
The Yorkshire Dipper Page 21
