The Yorkshire Dipper

by Maria Frankland

  “So what are you doing here?” He shakes Hutton’s hand off and looks at us in turn. “You should be making sure that this isn’t happening to someone else’s wife. It’s a fucking disgrace that so many women have died in that river without you catching whoever is behind it.”

  “The entire team is on it,” I say. “There’s a lot of us. Our role,” I point at Hutton and Chris, “is to visit families of all the victims. We’re looking for commonality between them or any information you might have remembered since my colleague took a statement from you last Monday.”

  “Commonality? They were all pissed, weren’t they? And all on their bloody own – easy pickings for some maniac.” His eyes are red raw. I wonder whether he has any support at all and realise again how lucky I am.

  “He’s robbed my whole life from me, and you’re sitting here like it’s some sort of social call. You should be out there catching the bastard who did this to my wife. I bet you’d have him by now if it was one of your wives he’d chucked into the river like a piece of old rubbish.”

  I open my mouth to retort, but Hutton puts his hand on my arm and says, “you’ve every right to hit out. This is just a brief visit, so you’re being kept in the loop and to give you the chance to let us know if there’s anything you’ve remembered that could help catch this killer.”

  “There’s nothing more I can tell you.” Darren lowers his gaze to the table. “Only that I’m an absolutely shit husband. I should have been picking her up, instead I had a few beers here. What the hell was I playing at? She asked me to pick her up as well. And I knew about the nutter that had been hanging around the river at weekends. I can’t believe I made such a terrible decision. I couldn’t have driven after the beer, but I could have gone in a taxi to pick her up. I’ll never forgive myself.”

  This has been a common theme with all the families we have visited. Beating themselves up over what they could have done differently. I’ve done it myself. Berated myself for not insisting Lauren came with me and Alysha that morning. Telling myself I should have left her the car. I only hope she knew how much I loved her.

  I take a deep breath. “I know exactly what you’re going through.” My words break the silence. Chris and Hutton look at me. This is our last family visit. Darren looks to have very little support. It might help him to know he’s not on his own.

  “How could you?” he spits the words out. “It’s not your wife that’s laid on a mortuary slab.”

  “No, but my fiancé is laying in a coffin in the funeral home right now. Lauren Holmes?”

  He slowly raises his eyes up to mine. We’re part of a club no one would ever want to be part of. “The newspaper reporter? Oh mate, I’m sorry. But… you’re working. There’s no way I could work. My head’s wrecked. Full respect to you for that.”

  “There’ll be time for me to grieve soon enough. Once we’ve got the killer. From now on, I will personally keep you informed, I promise.”

  As we leave the house, I wait for my bollocking from Hutton for being unprofessional. Instead, he asks me if I’m OK.

  “Far from it,” I reply. “The only thing keeping me going at the moment is the compulsion to get this nutter behind bars. After that, I don’t know.”

  Chapter Forty One

  Claire stands from the sofa. “I’m going to nip home.” She stretches her arms above her head. “I could do with getting some clean clothes and having an hour to myself.”

  “Yeah, course. Would it help you to spend the night at home sis? You’ve done a lot for us lately.”

  “No. I’d rather be with you. I just need to clear my head.”

  “Do you want to take the car? I don’t need it. I might have a beer or a brandy anyway.”

  “Well, save me one.” She smiles for the first time since I got back. “And no, it’s not far. I’ll walk. It’ll do me good. Blow the cobwebs away.”

  Brenda is knee-deep in ironing. The smell reminds me of Lauren. She hated cooking but loved ironing. I used to laugh at her. She even ironed tea towels and pillow cases. “Thought I’d make myself useful. Earn my keep.”

  “You don’t need to earn your keep or make yourself useful. I’m glad you’re here. But I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you behind an ironing board.” For a moment, I forget my misery and smile at her. “Brenda, you must be turning into your daughter!”

  “I’ve been moping about too much. Keeping busy is a better idea. It’s worked for you, hasn’t it?”

  Her tone of voice is slightly ‘off.’ I’m not sure if she’s getting at me for leaving Alysha with Eva. Or for continuing to work. “We all have our own way of handling things,” I say. “And there’s nothing wrong with moping, as you put it. It’s a wonder we’re still standing after what we’re coping with.”

  “I’ve had moments of wishing I could have gone with her and even more moments of wanting to have gone instead of her.” She places an ironed jumper onto the pile. “It’s the way she’s died that’s haunting me.”

  “I know. And I’m aware that I’ve wrapped myself up in finding her killer.” She’s ironed some of Lauren’s clothes and I stop myself from commenting. “Somehow, we’re all going to help each other get through this.”

  “Can you ever get through something like this? I’ve lost my only daughter, Alysha’s lost her mummy and you, well – it’s just horrendous.” She slams the iron onto its holder. “It’s not the normal order of things is it? It should have been me who went first, not her.”

  I walk towards her. “Come here. You need a hug.”

  She leans into me for a few moments, I feel the wetness of her tears on my shoulder. This always used to be a cheerful house. Now it’s full of misery, and it’s hard to imagine happiness again.

  “Anyway, how did it go yesterday? Seeing Lauren, I mean? At the funeral home. You never mentioned it.”

  “You were pretty certain you didn’t want to see her, so I didn’t think you’d want me to talk about it. It was like you’d expect really - awful but I needed to do it.”

  “See you in a little while,” Claire calls from the hallway.

  “OK love,” Brenda calls back. “Did she look peaceful?” She folds one of my shirts and starts on another skirt belonging to Lauren.

  I think for a moment. I don’t think the image of Lauren laid in that coffin will ever leave me. Because they had sealed her mouth, she didn’t look quite like herself anymore. But I’m not going to tell Brenda that. “Yes, she did,” I reply eventually. “Although, you could tell she had gone. That it was just the shell of her left behind.”

  “I wish I knew where she’d gone.” Brenda sniffs. “If I knew she was alright. Wherever she is. I hate to think she’s just, dead, but if I knew she was going on somewhere else-”

  “We just can’t know.” I feel an extra heaviness within myself. I know what she means, though. I’m not sure what I believe about the afterlife, but I worry that Lauren has taken her violent death with her somehow. I know I’m going to need counselling once I get through this initial shock. “I think a beer is in order.” I walk towards the door. “Can I tempt you Brenda?”

  “Go on then. Can’t have you drinking on your own.” She wipes her face with her hands. The tears are never far away for either of us.

  Brenda abandons her ironing and we sit with our drinks on the sofa, looking at a photograph album Lauren put together. It’s probably not going to do me any favours looking at this so soon, but once I start, I can’t stop. I realise for the millionth time how wonderful she was, capturing our most precious moments in a book like this. As a bloke, I could never have been bothered. We look youthful and deliriously happy when we first met, and a tiny bit drunk in our engagement photos. My breath catches when the page falls on two of her when she was heavily pregnant with Alysha.

  “It breaks my heart that I should have been a grandma again.” Brenda stares at the page. “Do you think she knew she was expecting?”

  I shake my head. “She categorically didn’t
want to try again until after the wedding. So I’m sure it would have come as a shock to her. And I’m certain she would have said something to me if she suspected. They said she was only in the early stages.”

  “It’s so unfair.” She brushes her hand over the surface of the photograph. “So bloody unfair. What that monster has robbed from us.”

  “I know.” I put my arm around her shoulders. “And I couldn’t have got through this week without you. I know its early days, but you, Claire and Eva, have been absolute rocks. We just have to stick together and look after each other.” I haven’t mentioned Will. We’ve barely had any contact apart from when he came with me to identify Lauren. If this had happened to him, I wouldn’t have left his side.

  “I’ll nip home tomorrow and bring the albums of Lauren from when she was younger. I’ve not subjected you to them since she first brought you round to meet me.”

  I laugh then. The sound is alien. “Lauren was mortified. Especially over the one of her in the bath. No doubt we’ll do this with Alysha when she’s older.” It dawns on me again that there will be no we, only I. And I’m going to have to be both father and mother to Alysha.

  We continue flicking through the photos and open a second beer, looking at Alysha’s birth, her Christening, our family holidays, Christmases. Smile after smile after smile. We were so lucky. Too lucky perhaps. And now it has all been snatched away.

  “Shouldn’t Claire be back by now?” Brenda has put the ironing away and we’ve packed the photos back into their cupboard. We’ve watched the news where I’m pleased to hear it officially confirmed that several solid leads from the TV appeal are being investigated. I’ll get back on it tomorrow.

  It’s starting to get dark. My stomach growls and I realise I haven’t eaten since I forced some toast down this morning. “We should eat.” I grab an apple to keep me going. “I’ll give Claire a ring, then get started on making us something.” The beer has relaxed me slightly. I take a bite of my apple whilst pressing the call button on my phone. Hers is switched off.

  “She’s been gone for over three hours,” Brenda says. “And she always has her phone. Lauren used to joke about how attached she is to it. Mind you, she was the same.”

  “Claire needed a walk to clear her head. It really got to her yesterday. You know, the funeral home. She’s nipping in at her house too.”

  “Needed a walk? If I’d have known I’d have stopped her.” Brenda walks to the window and separates the blind with her fingers to look out. “She should not be going for a walk. Not until that man is caught. Why didn’t she take your car?”

  A chill creeps up my back. “I never thought. I’m sure she’ll have just got comfy at home or something. I’ll have a drive around. I’ve only taken the top of this second beer.”

  “I’ll come with you. I need to get out of this house.” Brenda walks towards me. “Has Claire got a key? If she gets back before us?”

  “Yes. You and her have always had one.”

  We jump into the car and make the brief journey around to Claire’s house. “Check round the back,” I say to Brenda. “It’s all locked up. See if there’s any clue she’s been back and gone again.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Post not on the doormat, or something.”

  “Where else might she have gone?” I can see the panic in Brenda’s face.

  “Will’s house? Or to one of her friends?” I think for a moment, trying to keep calm. She will turn up. There will be a rational explanation. “I’m not sure how to get hold of her friends though. I could put a post on Facebook, but that might panic everyone. I’ll give Will a try first.”

  “You’ve not heard from Claire, have you?” I say as we’re connected. “She’s disappeared into thin air.”

  “No. When did you last see her?”

  “Over three hours ago. She was calling home for more clothes.”

  “Three hours. Is that all? She’s a grown woman Mark. You worry too much.”

  “You would if you were going through what I am. It’s just, she said she’d only be an hour, and she’s walked. With that man still not having been caught…”

  “Sorry. No idea. But if we hear from her, I’ll tell her to ring you. She’ll be fine.”

  I’m not reassured. “How’s Alysha? Is it OK if she stops with you another night?”

  “Yeah, no problem, she’s upstairs, playing with Heidi. They’re fine. Eva’s been asking whether you’re planning to send Alysha back to school next week? Heidi could do with getting back.”

  “Yes. They could both do with getting back into a routine.”

  “Mark.” Brenda tugs at my elbow. “It’s nearly dark. We need to find your sister.”

  “I’m going to get off the phone Will. I’m off to find Claire.”

  “I’ll get her to call you if she turns up here.”

  “Cheers. I’ll go back and check our house again, then have a drive around.”

  Ten minutes later, we’re back at the house and there’s still no sign. “Brenda. You wait here in case she comes back. I’m going to look for her.”

  “Shouldn’t you be calling the police?”

  “She’s thirty-three years old. And she’s only been gone for three hours. They won’t do anything yet.” Will was right in that respect.

  “They’d keep an eye out for her. Especially with that lunatic hanging about.”

  “True.” The prickling returns to the back of my neck. “I tell you what. I’ll have a drive around and if I don’t find her, I’ll ring the station. I can think of a few of places she might be. You keep trying her phone.”

  I can’t shake the feeling of dread as I set off again. Brenda’s right. Claire is never parted from her phone. Although it’s conceivable her battery has died. It’s nearly dark, but the sky is well lit by a nearly full moon.

  I take a different route between my house and hers, then check the mini-market coffee shop. It stays open until eight and I know she occasionally goes in there. No sign. They’ve closed up already. I don’t think she’d have gone to a pub on her own. Whenever Lauren and I have arranged to meet her at a pub, we’ve had to wait outside for her.

  I look on Facebook to see if any of her friends show up as places she might go. The only posts are about what’s happened to Lauren. I decide there’s nothing else for it and type out a post on her page.

  This is Claire’s brother, Mark. Has anyone seen her in the last few hours? No need to panic but her mobile is off and we’re not sure where she is. Hopefully that will turn something up.

  I’m not far now from trying to pull in some police units to look for her. I hope, given the circumstances, they will relax the usual stance of not looking for a missing adult within the first twenty-four hours, unless they are vulnerable.

  I drive through the city centre, shivering as I pass over the river bridge. In the now brightly lit security lights, I can see flowers carpeting the ground and there’s wanted posters of the man’s e-fit. They’ve sorted the CCTV out now too. At least this would have pleased Lauren.

  As soon as I’m away from the restricted city centre zone, I park up. I could do with some fresh air. I’ve started to feel light-headed. I walk towards the park, knowing Claire likes to walk there to clear her head. However, I will go mad with her if I find her there – she’s always had a peculiar sense of danger and seems to think she’s invincible. I realise that I’ve been so preoccupied with finding Claire, I’ve pushed my misery about Lauren out of my mind. I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.

  As I reach the park’s entrance, I hear a sound. It’s like a muffled scream, but it’s enough to make my heart feel as though it’s stopped. It’s coming from the cycle path which runs adjacent to the park. Where Lauren was found, and Denise was attacked. I tug my phone from my pocket as I begin to walk faster. Then I hear a sort of deep growl, which could be a man. It could be a couple having an argument, but I pick up my pace. As I approach the far entrance onto the path, I�
�ve pressed nine, three times with shaking fingers and say police please.

  There’s definitely someone there. I see movement in the bushes and can make out a shape in the moonlight. I sprint towards it. “This is Sergeant Mark Potts,” I try to steady my voice as I’m connected. “Get some units to both sides of the cycle path by Alder Park. I think we’ve got another attack taking place.”

  Chapter Forty Two

  “Stop!” I bellow. There’s a cry, a thud, then a figure comes hurtling through the darkness towards me. I crouch, ready for him as the gap between us closes. I stick my leg out and bring him crashing to the ground. With a grunt, he lands heavily. As he tries to spring back up, I leap on him. We wrestle for a few moments, him trying to get away, me knowing I’ll be keeping him here. But he’s strong. My arms shake with the force of pinning him down as he writhes beneath me but adrenaline courses through me. I’ve got the bastard – I just need to keep hold of him until backup gets here.

  I momentarily pause in my struggle as I realise I am looking into the moonlit face of Detective Chief Inspector Jonathan Ingham.

  “You.” I gasp. “It was you.”

  As I fight to contain my shock, I’m thrown off balance as he rolls from under me. Then stunned by a solid blow to my head. He’s going to knock me out if I don’t get my wits about me. As blood seeps into my mouth, I use every ounce of fight to wrestle the rock from him then deliver the same blow back to him, that he gave to me, and two more. My anger is unleashed with every blow I deliver to his face and head. I want to reduce him to pulp, I want to kill him, just like he killed Lauren. Thankfully, I realise he is unconscious and return to my senses. It’s the first time I’ve ever unleashed such violence.

  Still shaken from the anger, I climb off him and stagger over to where he emerged from the bushes. Looking back at him lying unconscious, I realise I don’t want him to die – I want him to pay. I want him to answer to what he’s done in front of a court. I want him in prison, known as both a Detective Chief Inspector and a serial woman-killer amongst his fellow inmates. He won’t last five minutes in there.