Behind the Walls: A British Crime Thriller (A DCI Pilgrim Thriller Book 4)

by A L Fraine

  “Mr Woods?” the man asked.

  “That’s me,” Lenny replied. “Hi.”

  “Hello. I’ve got bricks, sand and cement for you. Am I okay to just put it on the driveway?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Right you are then,” the man answered, and wandered back to his truck.

  “Where’s he putting it?” Phoebe asked, joining him at the door a few moments later.

  “Just on the driveway.”

  “What did I say, Leonard? It’ll look ugly there. Can’t we move it to the side or back?”

  Lenny sighed. “That’s a bit difficult to do.”

  “It’ll be better for you if it’s closer to the back of the house and won’t be an eyesore. Ask him what he can do, please.”

  Lenny nodded, knowing better than to look too annoyed. “Sure thing, I’ll ask.”

  “Thank you,” Phoebe declared, apparently satisfied. “And if he can’t do that, maybe you can move it later?”

  He watched her walk away, after a brief smile, and knew that if the driver just dumped them on the driveway, he’d end up having to move them himself, brick by brick.

  The embarrassment of asking was worth it, just to try and avoid having to move the things himself. Stepping out of the house, he walked towards the truck, where the driver was already moving the lifting arm into position.

  He sighed as he walked, annoyed that Phoebe would be so annoyed by some bricks, but he guessed if it made her happy, then it was worth it.

  “Hey, um, how far around the house can you put the bricks?” he asked as he approached the driver.

  The man turned and gave him a look. “Around the house?”

  “Yeah, sorry. Just, you know, the wife isn’t keen on them being out front.”

  The man gave him a look that was somewhere between pity and understanding as he sighed and stopped moving the lifting arm. “I can’t get them to the back, but I can maybe slot them down the side there. Will that do?”

  “You’re a lifesaver,” Lenny replied with a smile.

  The man grunted. “Yeah, I know.” Lenny watched as he climbed back into the cab. As the truck started to move, he noticed a man standing at the end of his driveway, watching. Lenny recognised him right away, and his stomach tied itself into a knot in anticipation.

  “What are you doing?” the man asked.

  “Hi Evan,” Lenny replied. “Nothing much, just a little home improvement.”

  “Why?”

  He sounded offended. Lenny paused as his chest tightened. He felt sure he knew where this conversation was going, which was essentially nowhere. He was aware of Evan’s link to the house, and honestly, he did feel bad for him, but that was a long time ago, and he really did need to move on. This was their home now.

  “Because the house is in desperate need of it.” Lenny attempted to keep his exasperation at bay.

  “No, it’s not. It’s fine as it is. You need to learn to respect the history of things, Mr Woods, before you go trampling all over it. Have you got planning permission to do whatever it is you’re doing?”

  “I don’t need planning permission, Evan. I know what I’m doing. I am an architect, after all.”

  Evan looked pissed off as he ground his teeth together. “Well, I don’t like it.”

  “Excuse me for being blunt, Evan, but it’s not your house.”

  “It was, once.”

  “But not anymore.”

  Evan gave Lenny a frown and screwed up his mouth before he turned and stormed off up the street and back to his house. Lenny watched him go before returning his attention to the driver and the placement of the bricks. They managed to get them quite far back. In the end, and Lenny felt confident that Phoebe would be happy when the driver eventually left.

  “Are they at the side?” Phoebe inquired as he stepped back into the house.

  “They are,” he confirmed.

  “See, I knew it wouldn’t be an issue. Thank you, sweety.”

  Lenny gave himself a thin smile as he walked back into the playroom and the wall that he needed to demolish.

  Well, there was nothing for it now. He needed to make a start, he thought, and picked up the sledgehammer again. After a moment of consideration, he swung the tool and started to knock out the bricks, such as they were in this old building.

  The first one was perhaps the hardest of the lot, and it took him a while to break through the plaster and get the right angle on the uneven brick. But he persisted, and before long, had the first one out. Pleased with his work, he started on the next one.

  The bricks after that first one were easier, and he was soon making good progress, but he was surprised just how thick the wall was. It was crazy, but seemed very much in keeping with the rest of the house.

  To his knowledge, it was one of the oldest houses in the village and had been here for a long time.

  Pressing on, he knocked out a few more, and then noticed something odd. The next brick he found was a modern one.

  “Huh,” he muttered to himself as he took a closer look. There was a cavity in the wall behind it too.

  Lenny didn’t spend too long thinking about the oddities of the house, though. He’d never get anything done if he did that. This place was seemingly made of quirks and strangeness. But that was also its charm and what had attracted them to it in the first place.

  Pressing on, Lenny started knocking out the modern bricks, which came out so much easier than the irregular shaped old ones, revealing more of the cavity. There wasn’t any insulation at all, but he could see something in there; something wrapped in black plastic, like a bin bag. As he knocked out another brick, something shifted, and the plastic fell to the side so that it stuck out.

  Lenny stared at the plastic-covered shape. He couldn’t really say why, or what caused it, but he got a sudden, sinking feeling, like a huge emptiness that opened up deep inside him and gripped him like a vice.

  Something was wrong here, very badly wrong. And yet, he found himself wanting to know what it was. What was causing this sudden fear that was clawing at his mind? He had to know and dropped the hammer.

  It clunked to the floor as he pulled out the Stanley knife from his pocket and extended the blade. Moving closer, he got a whiff of the rank, musty air that had been trapped in the wall and got right to the back of his throat. He pulled part of the plastic taut and cut it before ripping it open.

  It took a moment for him to register what he was seeing and comprehend what it might mean as he stepped back, wanting to keep well away from it now he knew what it was.

  He needed to keep Gracie out of here, and he needed to make a phone call.

  5

  Rising from a fitful, nightmare-filled dream, Helen’s first thought was how much everything hurt. Her wrists screamed out in agony as something bit into them, holding them fast. They were squashed behind her and pressed up against a rough, solid surface that was cool to the touch.

  As she woke, the pain grew. She tried to pull in a long breath, but her chest hurt. She felt crushed as she sucked in dry, dusty air and opened her eyes to find herself in darkness.

  In a moment of panic, she yelled, screamed, struggled and fought, but only succeeded in hurting herself further.

  No. Stop, she thought as she hissed against the pain. She pressed her eyes shut again and forced herself to take a long slow breath as she tried to calm herself down. She needed to figure out where she was and what was going on.

  She was standing up but could hardly move. Where the hell was she?

  The last thing she could remember was something in the darkness of the basement lunging at her. They bore her down and crushed her throat before oblivion had claimed her.

  But where the hell was she now? What on earth was this?

  She was squashed in between two walls with barely enough space to breathe. The wall was right up against her face and the back of her head. Every movement scratched and scraped against her skin, making movement difficult.

  A dim g
low from above provided her with a tiny amount of light. She blinked, trying to get her eyes to adjust.

  She could feel bindings on her wrists, holding her hands in the small of her back. There were similar constrictions around her knees and ankles too. She’d have fallen over if it wasn’t for the wall.

  Over the next few moments, her eyes started to get used to the lack of light. She could make out shapes and a few details. Where was the light coming from? Moving slowly, she turned her head and looked up. Above her, a small vent allowed a sliver of light into the space. She could almost feel the fresh air it let in and taste the freedom that it teased. So close, and yet out of reach.

  But a vent meant that sound could escape.

  Was anyone nearby? Was she still in the same house? Where was she? What had happened to her? She must have been kidnapped and put here. But where was she?

  “Help!” she shouted. “Hello? Is there anyone there? Can anyone hear me?”

  But she heard nothing in return. No one answered and there were no sounds of movement. Looking right, she saw something shiny, wrapped in black plastic. Blinking to try and make her eyes adjust better, she had the sudden sinking feeling that she knew what was wrapped in the plastic.

  “Oh god. No. Oh god, no.”

  She could make out the distinct shape of a head on a pair of shoulders beneath the plastic, but it wasn’t moving at all. Craning her neck, she felt sure she could see more beyond the one closest to her.

  With rising terror, she turned her head and looked left. Another human shape, wrapped in plastic.

  “Oh, Christ,” she muttered, realising she was trapped in here with at least three or four other bodies. “Hello? Is there anyone there? Can someone help me? I’m trapped. Hello? Hello!”

  But no matter how hard she called, there was no response. Over time, her calls became shouts and then screams. Panicked, terrified screams until her throat hurt even more than it already did. She started to sob as the reality of the situation took root in her mind.

  She was trapped. Hidden away somewhere, and if she had to guess, she felt sure she was sealed up behind a wall or something, and she wasn’t alone. Whoever had done this to her had been doing it to others, too.

  And then images came back to her, glimpses of the person who’d strangled her into unconsciousness. She had memories of coming to and seeing someone above her before she’d slipped back into her nightmares.

  She’d seen who’d done this, she realised.

  She’d seen them, clearly. But that didn’t help her. If she died here, her memories wouldn’t be of any use to anyone.

  She couldn’t die. Not here, not now. She needed to get out of here. She needed to live. But how?

  6

  Braking, Jon pulled the car to a stop at the side of the street, in the quiet village of Newdigate. The road was a quiet, rural idyll, with spaced-out homes along a country road. The smattering of police vehicles before him stood in sharp contrast to the village atmosphere. There were already plenty of people standing in small groups, watching proceedings from behind the police tape.

  None of this was unusual or surprising to Jon. It was just another day on the force. No, he just felt annoyed that his day off had been brought to a sudden and unceremonious end.

  Crime, it seemed, had no respect for his work schedule and would continue regardless of what Jon wanted to do. Still, at least he was in his house now, so perhaps he should be grateful for small mercies. His unpacking, however, would need to wait until later.

  He wasn’t too sure what this call to attend a crime scene was all about. All he knew was that at least one body had been found, and it looked like there was foul play involved.

  Looking across at the quaint cottage at the centre of the cordon, with its whitewashed walls and lush front gardens, it really couldn’t look more tranquil and innocent if it tried. But he knew as well as anyone else on this, and any other force, that murder could happen anywhere and often in the most surprising places.

  As he sat in the car, checking his phone for any new messages, another car pulled up behind. It was Kate; he recognised the vehicle. And sure enough, he spotted the shock of auburn hair as she climbed out, looking just as frustrated as he felt.

  Jon put his phone away and got out as she walked over.

  “They really do pick their moments, don’t they?”

  “You’re not kidding,” Kate replied. “I’ve not done half the things I wanted to. I’ve got no idea when I’ll get to go and buy some food. There’s nothing in my fridge.”

  “Mine neither…” Jon mused.

  “I think it might help if you had a fridge,” she suggested.

  “You think?” Jon remarked. “Hmm, good thinking, Batwoman.”

  “Any idea what this is?”

  “Nope, nothing beyond what was in the message. I’m guessing it will be another gruesome scene created by a monster in human skin, that will live with me until the day I die.”

  “You think?”

  “Just a hunch,” Jon said.

  “The call said a body was found.”

  “Aye. Come on, let’s go and see what fresh hell this will be.” He led them towards the cordon, where an officer was engaged in a conversation with a bystander.

  “You need to tell me what’s going on in there.” The man’s tone forceful and just a little too confrontational for Jon’s liking.

  “Sir, please,” the officer said. “If you would just like to stand back. We can’t give out any details right now.”

  “But, I need to know. You have to tell me,” the bystander demanded. He was a tall man with short hair, and he loomed over the PC.

  “Everything okay here?” Jon asked as he walked up, flashing his warrant card.

  “Everything’s fine, sir,” the officer replied.

  The bystander caught sight of Jon’s ID and looked up at him, and then at Kate.

  “You’re detectives,” he stated.

  Restraining himself from making a stinging, sarcastic remark, Jon ignored the man as he stepped under the tape. Kate followed as the officer signed them in.

  “Thanks,” the officer said.

  “No, wait,” the bystander said. “You need to tell me what this is all about, detectives. I have a right to know. You have to tell me.”

  Jon sighed and looked back at the man. He seemed awfully interested in what was going on. Unusually so. “What’s your name, sir?”

  The man frowned and clamped his mouth shut. “Why do you want to know?”

  “You want to know what’s happened in here?”

  “Yes.”

  “So do I. I have no idea right now, and no amount of shouting at me is going to get you an answer. But, tell me who you are, and maybe I can help you. Is that a fair exchange?”

  The man’s eyes flicked back and forth between them before he grunted and turned away in a huff, walking around the cordon and up the street. Jon watched him go, narrowing his eyes at the man as he wondered what that was all about.

  “Has he been causing problems?” Jon asked the duty officer.

  “No. He’s been asking questions, though. He’s been here the whole time I have. But, other than being a little… forceful, he’s not caused any issues.”

  “Fair enough,” Jon replied. “Let me know if he does.”

  “Will do.”

  Jon walked after Kate and moved deeper into the cordon. She raised her eyebrows at him as he caught up. “Have you got a suspect before you’ve even seen the crime scene?”

  “Wouldn’t that be wonderful,” Jon stated.

  “It would make for a nice change of pace.”

  “Wouldn’t it just.”

  “He’s clearly interested in what’s going on. Might be worth keeping in mind.”

  “Sure,” he replied and walked to a nearby van, where they were handed some forensics suits.

  “I hear congratulations are in order,” Sergeant Louis Dyson said as he sauntered over and waited for them to change.

 
“What?” Jon said. “Barry, you’re not pregnant, are you?”

  Kate smirked. “Hah! Not likely. Christ!”

  “Hell, don’t do that to me, Dyson. I nearly had a heart attack.”

  “Har-di-har,” Dyson said. “No, I hear you finally got your own place.”

  “Oh, right, yeah,” Jon said in mock realisation. “I’m officially a Surrey resident, now. I think I need to start talking all posh, like.”

  “You’re enjoying it down here that much, huh?”

  “It has its perks,” he replied, winking at Kate. “Doubt my bank account will ever recover, though.”

  “Yeah. I hear you can buy a mansion up north for a penny and the promise of a favour,” Dyson said.

  “Unlike down here where they want your firstborn child and sexual favours,” Jon said. “The price difference is horrendous. I’m surprised anyone can actually live down here.”

  “It’s the next generation I feel sorry for,” Kate added. “How kids today will get onto the property ladder, is beyond me. It’s ridiculous.”

  “Well, if they’re looking at houses like this one, they might want to think again,” Dyson replied, jabbing his thumb at the building behind him.

  “That bad, is it?” Jon asked.

  “It’s messed up, is what it is. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’ve worked on Kate and Nathan’s cases.”

  “Shit,” Kate cursed, and gave Jon a look.

  “Now, you see, don’t do that. You’ve just gone and given me the willies, you pair of prats.”

  “So, what’s the deal?” Kate asked.

  “Best you come in and have a look for yourself. I’ve kept people going in there to a minimum. Photographer and Examiner have been and gone. Sheridan’s in there now with her people.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Jon finished kitting himself out with a mask before walking over to the front door and stepping inside. Following the trail through the property, he glanced into the side rooms as he went. Forensics officers went about their work all through the house, but the main focus was in a backroom, adjoined onto the kitchen.

  Walking in, Jon was greeted by several people in protective clothing, picking at the wall between this room and the kitchen. Someone had already smashed a sizable hole in it, and leaning out of it, partially wrapped in black plastic, was a dry, mummified human head.