The Girls in the Lake: An addictive and gripping crime thriller (Beth Adams Book 2)

by Helen Phifer

  Thirty-One

  Beth had one more post-mortem to conduct before the end of the day. It wasn’t a full forensic, thankfully, but the sudden death of a seventy-nine-year-old man with a known history of heart disease. She tried desperately to clear her head and concentrate, but every bone in her body was screaming to her it was no coincidence that the bodies of the two girls in the lake HAD showed up at the same time, and both with similar material found under their fingernails. But with no supporting evidence so far, it was impossible to say for sure, not unless the toxicology reports came back for both women showing high levels of drugs in their system, which could explain their sudden desire to go into the unforgiving, bitterly cold water of Lake Windermere. She opened up a new Word document and began to type.

  Victims

  Both female

  Both blonde

  Paint chips found under fingernails.

  She needed a sample of the paint from The Tequila Sunrise and if Josh and his team couldn’t get it to her soon, then she had no other option but to go herself. She’d be damned if she just sat back and let another woman turn up floating in the lake. She finished her cold mug of tea and decided to take an evidence kit home with her. If it wasn’t too late by the time she was done with the old man on her table, she was going to do a detour to the marina. Standing up, she went back into the mortuary where Abe was in the process of setting up.

  ‘I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you, Abe. You spoil me.’

  He laughed. ‘The feeling is kind of mutual, Doc, you’re pretty good to me too.’

  ‘Why don’t you and Rosie come around to mine next time we’re both not on call? It would be lovely to spend some time with the pair of you, especially when we’re not hovering over a dead body. I could cook you both a meal and you could stop over. A few glasses of wine and a night away, how does that sound?’

  ‘Wonderful, we don’t get out of Barrow very much. Rosie loves the Lake District and she’d adore your house. I’ve told her all about it.’

  ‘That’s settled then.’

  He grinned at her and she grinned back. Beth couldn’t remember the last time she’d invited anyone over for drinks and dinner. It felt good, it felt normal. She caught a glimpse of her life as it used to be before she turned into a recluse for seven years and became scared of her own shadow. Thank God she’d come out of the other side of that. Josh had a lot to do with it. He’d been there for her through everything, and she couldn’t believe how lucky she was he felt the same way about her. Sometimes nightmares did have happy endings; despite her years of living in fear there was the chance to live a normal life and this time she was grasping it with both hands and never letting go. Now there was just the matter of the body in front of her to examine and then she would do some digging of her own.

  Two hours later she snapped off the gloves, relieved it had been a straightforward post-mortem, because she couldn’t push thoughts of the two drowned girls out of her mind.

  She needed to know if there was any news or results. Even though everything of forensic value had been fast-tracked it could still take days, more likely weeks to be processed and the results to come back. Checking her phone, there were no messages or voicemails. She then checked her emails in case Josh had decided to send the information about the paint on the boat over that way. Nothing. At least, not since this morning. It was no good, she was going to have to go to the marina on her way home. There was no way she’d be able to settle at home without knowing the simplest of answers. The police did their best with limited resources and complicated processes, but sometimes it stopped them from being able to act fast or follow their noses the way she could.

  Wondering how many drownings had occurred over the years, she brought up Google and typed ‘Lake Windermere drowning’ into the search bar and waited for it to load. As numerous pages of news articles fed through, one thing which struck her was the large number of male drownings compared to female. All of them were tragic, but it struck her as odd that it had been such a long time since a woman had been pulled out of the water. Reading through the articles, she made scant notes on a couple, not sure what she was expecting or looking for. After an hour or so of trawling, frustrated, she rang Josh hoping he’d have something for her, some piece of information to help put her troubled mind at rest.

  Thirty-Two

  Josh was mid-shop in Asda when his phone began to ring. He saw Beth’s number and instantly felt a wave of guilt wash over him.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I finished the PM on the girl a couple of hours ago. I left you a message; I found a couple of interesting things. Where are you?’

  The noise of the tannoy filled the air to announce that there was a Mini Cooper in the car park with its lights still on. He slapped his palm to his head when he realised it was his.

  ‘Asda, just getting a few bits. Bugger, I’ve left my lights on; they’ve just announced it to the world. Do you need anything?’

  ‘I’m good, thanks. There’s plenty in, you didn’t need to bother.’

  Tell her, Josh, the voice whispered in his ear, but he couldn’t. ‘So what did you find?’

  ‘I’d rather tell you in person, can you come down here?’

  ‘Not really.’ His voice came out much sharper than he intended. ‘I’ve got a lot on.’

  ‘Oh, okay. So, I managed to de-glove her left hand and take some fingerprints which I’ve sent to the identification bureau. Underneath two of them were traces of what look like paint chips.’

  He stood still, staring at the ready meals and wondering if Jodie would eat them. ‘What kind of paint chips?’

  ‘Hard to say one hundred per cent until they’ve been analysed, but they weren’t too dissimilar to the one I retrieved from underneath Leah Burton’s nail. It could put them both in the same area when they went into the water, or mean they came off the same boat. We need a sample from the boat Leah was on before she went into the water to compare. Do you think the owner will give permission?’

  Josh thought about his meeting with James Marshall that morning. ‘Well, I wouldn’t like to say no.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘He’s a bit of an ass.’

  Beth chuckled down the phone, the rare and lovely sound making Josh feel even worse about not being upfront about Jodie.

  ‘Can’t you get a search warrant or something?’

  ‘On what grounds? As far as we’re concerned there’s nothing suspicious. Unless you found any injuries or the post-mortem showed neither of them died in the lake.’

  ‘Nothing outstanding; the scrapes and bruises on both bodies are consistent with where they were found. Both post-mortems showed that the victims died from drowning and the transient hypervolemia – the amount of water absorbed into the bloodstream – confirms this. They both drowned in fresh water. I completed a full post-mortem which showed no evidence of trauma. Toxicology won’t be back for some time but I have to say that the manner of death is classified as accidental.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘I don’t know, Josh, I get the feeling something isn’t right. I just don’t have any evidence to prove otherwise.’

  He let out a sigh. ‘I hear you. I’m not that happy myself that two women have been pulled out of the lake. We think we have a possible ID for her, if it’s who we think she is. She’s a hotel worker who travelled from Poland to work here. That doesn’t sit very well with me, but like you have said there is no evidence to support foul play.’

  It was Beth’s turn to sigh. ‘It’s a bit of a coincidence though, isn’t it?’

  Another call came through; he looked at the number and felt even worse. ‘Beth, I have another caller on the line. Sorry, I’ll have to go. See you later.’

  Beth ended the call from her end, not even questioning who it was calling, and he knew she was pissed off with him. He’d make it up to her.

  ‘Josh, sorry to bother you, it’s Jodie. Do you think you could pick me up when you have the time? I’ve t
old them you’re going to be checking in on me and they said I could come home.’

  ‘Of course, I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  He ended the call and finished his shop, piling all sorts of food into the trolley. If she didn’t like it, she could always donate it to the food bank.

  Thirty-Three

  Beth parked her car. It was later than she’d hoped and much darker. The marina was lit up well though, which was some comfort on this rainy night. As droplets pounded the windscreen of her car, she wondered if she should shelve this crazy idea, wait until tomorrow or at least when it was daylight. What would Scarpetta do? she asked herself silently. Kay Scarpetta was a fictional forensic pathologist Beth loved to read about, and a bloody good one. Scarpetta wouldn’t wimp out at a bit of rain.

  Throwing open the car door, she got out and was immediately blown to one side by a strong gust of wind. She grabbed the evidence sample kit and pushed it deep into her coat pocket. Tugging on a woollen hat and zipping her coat up to her chin, she walked into the wind towards the water’s edge hoping the boat was still there.

  As she got onto the lakeside she saw The Tequila Sunrise bobbing in the water with a light on below deck. The lake was choppy and the moored boats were lurching with the force of the wind and the water. Behind her, even the pub was closed – not much cause for business in weather like this. She felt a chill just looking into the inky waters of the lake. Hurrying to get to the boat, her head bent against the driving rain, she almost ran straight into the sodden, bedraggled man. A small scream escaped her lips. ‘Oh, gosh. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.’

  He grunted a reply at her, then pushed past her walking away from the marina towards the car park. The pungent smell of damp clothes that haven’t been washed in forever assaulted her nostrils. She turned to look at him once more, catching the sight of the back of him as he disappeared. He didn’t look as if he owned a boat. Christ, he didn’t look as if he owned a tent. She couldn’t help wondering who he was and what he was doing down here. She’d mention it to Josh, see if he knew who he was and why he’d be down here in this weather. For a moment she felt awful, judgemental. Would she have questioned him being down here if he’d been smelling of expensive aftershave and wearing a Berghaus jacket? She knew that she wouldn’t, nobody would. She turned back towards the boats, her racing heart beginning to slow down. Whoever he was he’d given her a fright.

  The metal jetties that ran between the rows of boats were slick with rain. She was going to have to tread carefully or she could slip and end up in the water. The very thought gave her palpitations, her nightmares and memories of the last time she’d ended up in it fighting their way to break out of the box she’d hidden them in. She shook her head – this was different; she was here to do a job, someone had to find out what had happened to those two women. She knew that Josh was only doing his job as well by playing it safe, waiting for sufficient evidence and not taking it any further. There wasn’t enough evidence to suggest any foul play, but it didn’t mean that there wasn’t.

  Carefully she stepped down onto the jetty and walked towards the boat. It rocked under the weight of her, but she forced herself to carry on. It would only take a moment to get a sample and she could be back in the car with the heating on. When she reached the boat she realised it was a little further away from the jetty than she’d realised. Taking out a torch, she shone it at the side of the boat, to see if there was anywhere she could reach to scrape a good sample. And then it struck her: the boat wasn’t wood, it was fibreglass. The paint chip couldn’t have come from it. Her heart sank; she had been so sure she was onto something. She stood on the edge of the jetty, her arms folded across her chest, feet apart trying to keep herself from being blown into the water as she looked around at the other boats nearby. They were all fibreglass, varnish or sleek white plastic. She felt all determination drain away from her. Where did those flakes of paint come from?

  As she turned to walk back to the safety of the lakeside, she saw movement from behind The Tequila Sunrise. She peered round the boat to see a small wooden rowing boat tethered to a buoy not too far away from it. It was a dark colour; the paint flakes had been dark. Shining her torch around, she couldn’t see any others that were similar in this part of the marina.

  Walking to the very end of the jetty she wondered how she was going to get to it and realised there was a ladder on the side of the bigger boat in front of her. If she got onto that one, she could climb down the ladder to reach the rowing boat, get her sample and then go home for a hot shower and huge glass of wine. All she had to do was to get onto the boat. It was simple, but she was so cold now it was hard to feel her fingers. She knew she should come back tomorrow when the sun was up and the rain had passed, but what if the rowboat had gone? Before she could talk herself out of it, she was leaning over and climbing up the ladder on the side of the large boat closest to it. Safely on deck, she breathed out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t slipped and gone into the water. Now all she had to do was to climb down the other side of the boat, lean over and scrape a bit of paint off and get the hell back to her car. It was reckless and dangerous, she knew, yet here she was about to ignore all her own advice and carry on.

  She took the small, plastic pot out of her pocket and unscrewed the lid. If she climbed down and leant across all she had to do was to scrape it along the side of the boat. Hopefully, she’d get a big enough sample of the paint to send off to the lab for a comparison. Hanging onto the metal ladder with one hand in an iron grip, she reached out as far as she could and ran the small pot against the dinghy.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing?’

  The voice was loud and angry, distorted in the wind. Cold fear filled her insides.

  ‘Get up here now, you’re going to kill yourself.’

  Beth pulled herself up, trying to push the sample pot into her pocket. ‘Sorry, I’m coming up now.’

  A strong gust of wind blew her off balance and she felt her grip loosen on the slippery metal rung she’d been clinging on to. A scream escaped her lips as she fell, clawing to get a hold of the ladder, but her fingers were too cold and the metal was too wet. She fell towards the water and was plunged into the black depths of the lake. It was beyond freezing. So cold it took her breath away and choked her scream. Her arms and legs splashed wildly, propelling herself back to the surface, but her heavy coat dragged her back down.

  For a moment she wondered if she was going to die. Then a strong hand gripped the back of her coat and she felt herself being pulled up above the water. One more heave and she was by the ladder again.

  ‘You have to hold on, I can’t lift you any higher,’ the voice bellowed at her. She did as she was told, her teeth chattering. The man rearranged his grip and dragged her up as far as he could. She did her best to climb back up but her limbs were numb and useless. When she was almost near the top, he put his arms under her armpits and pulled her onto the deck. She stared up in shock at the face staring down at her.

  ‘You bloody idiot, you could have drowned. Do you know how dangerous it is? If I hadn’t come out on deck…’ He ran his hands through his dripping hair.

  Beth was panting for every breath, the cold air stinging her lungs. Her whole body began to shake with the cold as she coughed up mouthfuls of the water. The man held out his hand for the second time, and she took it, knowing it wouldn’t be long before hypothermia set in if she didn’t get out of the cold. Tugging her to her feet, he pointed to the step that led below deck.

  ‘It’s warm down there and you can get those sodden clothes off, have a warm shower; I’ll make you a cup of tea. You need to warm your body temperature up.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she managed.

  He smiled at her. ‘Lady, I don’t know who you are or what the hell you were doing, but I’ve already had one guest on my boat die this week, I’m not having another. After you’ve had a shower I want to know who you are and what the hell you were doing, deal?’

  She nodded then
followed him downstairs.

  ‘The shower cools down after a few minutes, but it should be enough to warm you up. I have some spare clean clothes that I’ll leave outside the door for you.’

  She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Quickly she stripped off her soaking wet clothes and left them in a pile in front of the door so it would be difficult to open. A part of her was glad she’d left her phone in the car. She turned on the shower and stepped under the spray, relieved to be able to warm herself up. He was right, no sooner had she began to thaw out than the water turned cold. She stepped out, and began to dry herself with a luxurious, soft towel. Wrapping another around her head, she kicked her sodden clothes to one side and opened the door to find a set of brand-new Nike joggers and a matching sweatshirt neatly folded on the floor. Grabbing them she dressed quickly, putting the wet clothes into the shower tray and mopping the floor with a hand towel. She looked in the small mirror and shook her head. You’re a bloody idiot. You could have died and no one would have known where you were until your body washed up.

  She walked into the galley kitchen to find the man who had rescued her pouring boiling water into a teapot. He turned to her, pointing at the bench underneath the table.

  ‘Take a seat. You look a bit more human.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She sat down as he carried a tray over with a china teapot, two mugs, sugar, milk and some chocolate biscuits. Pouring out two mugs of tea, he passed her one and she added milk as well as a heaped teaspoon of sugar. Her hands were still shaking and she knew it was a combination of the cold, and the realisation that she’d had a very close call.