Eyes of the Wicked

by Adam J. Wright

  “I’m not surprised,” Ryan said, looking out at the snowstorm beyond the automatic doors. “Who’d want to drive in this?”

  “Well, we’ve got to get back to headquarters.” Tony zipped up his oversize coat and pulled the beanie over his head. “I’ve got to write up my report and tell Battle that Abigail is speaking.”

  “Right,” Ryan said. “And what about me?”

  Tony grinned at him. “You can get back to those computerised reports.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The snow beat against the van’s windscreen and the wipers thrummed with a steady, heartbeat rhythm. Samuel had been on the road since early morning, his eyes hunting for Ruth among the faces of the people he passed as he drove to his various delivery destinations.

  When he’d started his rounds this morning, there had been a few people out and about but now, the snow had driven everyone indoors. He felt like he was the only person in the world, driving through a pure white landscape. Was this what the world would look like when it was finally cleansed of sin? Everything white and pristine?

  His mother often said that a day would come when the evildoers were punished and the righteous rewarded. When all wrongs would be avenged by God. Until that day came, Samuel was just going to have to right the wrongs himself.

  But unless he found a woman and a girl to help him, evil would go unpunished.

  His phone—which was clipped into a holder on the van’s dashboard as it showed him the route to his next delivery—rang and the number displayed was that of Simon Beale, the depot manager at the branch of Anytime Deliveries where Samuel worked. What the hell did he want?

  Samuel considered ignoring it, but Simon rarely rang him, so it must be something important. He jabbed the screen. “Yeah?”

  “It’s Simon,” a tinny voice said from the phone’s speaker as if Samuel hadn’t seen the manager’s name on the screen. “You’re going to have to finish your round and go home. The Met Office has issued a weather alert. I’m recalling all drivers. It isn’t safe.”

  “But I’m almost at my next destination.” Before he’d been interrupted, the phone’s navigation system had told him he was only 2 minutes away from the next delivery.

  “Well just do that one and then take your vehicle home. Don’t come back to the depot; I can’t have drivers stranded here. We can finish these deliveries after Christmas. There’ll probably be a few disappointed kids tomorrow morning but no one can blame us for that. I can’t let my drivers work in unsafe conditions and I’ll get in trouble from Head Office if our vehicles get stuck and have to use the emergency call out service. So after your next delivery, get yourself home.”

  “Understood,” Samuel said. He ended the call and the map reappeared on the phone’s screen. He was just one minute away. Once he’d delivered the parcel for this address, he was free. But he wasn’t going home as Simon had suggested; he was going hunting.

  According to the map, he was in a village called Tarnby. As well as older, stone cottages, the village had an estate of newly built houses and it was to this estate that the navigation system was leading him.

  The houses here were all uniform, with yellow bricks and bay windows. Samuel found No. 24 Lime Avenue—his destination—and stopped the van at the end of the house’s short drive. Pulling his baseball cap low over his eyes and pulling up his parka hood, he felt ready to brave the weather.

  He got out and opened the back of the van, searching among the few remaining packages for the one destined for this address. When he found it—a large thin cardboard box that contained a flatscreen TV according to the writing and picture on the packaging—he scanned the bar code on the label with his phone. The label said that the person who lived in the house was a T. Matthews.

  Leaving the phone in the back of the van while he manhandled the unwieldy parcel up the drive, he ducked his head against the swirling snow and wind that bit at his face.

  The door of No. 24 was painted black, like all the other doors on the street. The only thing that differentiated this house from those around it was a ceramic tile on the wall next to the door that had the house number painted on it, along with flowers, vines, and bees.

  Samuel pressed the doorbell. It wouldn’t take long to get a signature for the TV and then he’d be on his way, free to spend the rest of the day looking for the perfect presents for himself.

  An attractive woman in her late thirties opened the door. She had short dark hair and she was in the process of fastening an earring in her ear. She was dressed in a dark skirt and tight-fitting jumper that did nothing to hide her curves. Her face was made up and she looked like she was getting ready to go out.

  “Oh, hi,” she said when she saw Samuel. “Does that need to be signed for?”

  He nodded.

  “Gemma,” the woman shouted as she walked away from the door and back into the house. “Come and sign for the TV.”

  Samuel watched her as she went into the kitchen and used a compact mirror to check her makeup. She reminded him of his mother getting ready for a night with one of her many men, painting on a mask to lure them in like unwary animals.

  A girl with long dark hair came down the stairs, her face lighting up when she saw the large box Samuel had leaned against the door frame. “At last! It’s here!” She looked at Samuel and said, “Our old one broke. Where do I sign?”

  “I’ll just get my phone from the van,” he said, giving her a cheery smile. As he walked back down the drive, head bowed against the elements, his mind began to race. He didn’t need to go hunting. This woman and her daughter were perfect.

  When he got to the van’s open rear door, he climbed inside and picked his way among the boxes to the canvas bag he carried with him at all times. He opened it and checked the contents, even though he examined them a thousand times a day, dreaming about what he would do with them and what he’d already done with them.

  Everything was there. The hammer, a roll of duct tape, a length of rope, and a wicked-looking kitchen knife. He slung it over his shoulder and emerged from the van. A quick check of the street as he walked back up the drive to the house confirmed that there was no one else about.

  The girl had pulled the TV inside and it was now leaning against the wall just inside the door. She was waiting for him expectantly.

  He held the phone out to her, as if for her to sign, but as she reached for it, he pushed her backwards into the hall and entered the house.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  December 25th

  Dani was pulled out of sleep by the sound of her phone’s ringtone. She reached over to the bedside table and grabbed it, checking the screen with bleary eyes to see who was calling her at this hour. She had no idea what the time actually was, but it was dark outside, and she was sure she hadn’t got enough sleep.

  It was Charlie, video calling her.

  Dani pressed the green icon on the screen and rested her head against the headboard as the call connected. According to the phone’s clock, it was 7 a.m. Dani had never known her daughter to emerge from her bed early in the morning, so she must be making an extra special effort while she was staying with her boyfriend’s family.

  Charlie’s face appeared on the screen. “Merry Christmas, Mum. I wanted to catch you before you go to work.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Dani said, although she felt anything but merry. She wished she’d taken the day off after all and could just crawl back under the covers for a few more hours. “How are things?”

  “Great! Elliott’s parents and sisters are really nice. We were up late last night playing board games and drinking mulled wine.”

  Then how can you look so fresh-faced at this hour? Dani thought. It must be the resilience of youth. Charlie could stay up all night playing games and look wide awake at 7 a.m. whereas she’d gone to bed at ten and felt like death warmed up.

  “I saw that murder on the News,” Charlie said. “Is that the case you’re working on?”

  “Yes,” Dani said.
>
  “Are you part of that new team? Murder Force?”

  “No. Not yet, anyway.”

  Charlie frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been offered a job but I’m not sure I’m taking it.”

  “You should do it, Mum. What have you got to lose?”

  She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “It’s all very much in the media spotlight. You know I try to avoid that kind of thing.”

  “But you can’t avoid it. You’ll always be the detective who caught the Snow Killer. The media is going to be interested in you anyway, so that isn’t really a factor. And you like working on murder cases. You should totally take the job. Then I can point you out on the telly and tell my friends that you’re my mum.”

  Dani grinned. It made her feel warm inside to know that her daughter was proud of her. Maybe she should join Murder Force. It wasn’t like the press was going to leave her alone if she didn’t. There’d always be some reporter or other chasing after her for an interview or a comment. It wouldn’t be any different if she joined Murder Force.

  Changing the subject, she asked, “Did you get any nice presents?”

  Charlie shrugged and grinned. “We haven’t opened any yet. Elliot’s parents have a tradition of opening them at lunchtime when the rest of the family gets here.”

  “Oh, there are more people coming?”

  “Yeah. Some uncles, aunts, cousins, and Elliot’s granny.”

  “Sounds like it’s going to be a full house.” It certainly sounded different from last year, when Dani and Charlie spent the day together.

  “Well, there’s plenty of room. This house is huge.” Charlie swept the camera around the room and Dani saw how spacious it was. Fitted with dark wood panelling and bookshelves, it looked like a library. Elliot’s parents were obviously well off.

  “Anyway, Mum, I’ve got to go,” Charlie said. “Have a great day, even though you’re at work. And think about that new job. You’d be amazing!”

  “I will. You have a great day as well.”

  “Oh, and look in the top drawer of my bedside table,” Charlie said. “Your present is in there.” She waved at the camera. “See you, Mum.”

  The screen went black.

  Dani looked at the blank screen for a moment. Things were changing. Her girl was growing up. She’d felt that way ever since Charlie had gone to Birmingham Uni but something about her daughter not being here on Christmas Day brought home the fact that she was now living her own life.

  Which was fine. Dani was just going to have to get used to it. Nothing lasted forever.

  She got out of bed and went into the kitchen, followed closely by the dogs. After fussing each of them in turn, she put down their food and unlocked the dog door.

  The back garden had been covered by another couple of inches of snow overnight and although it wasn’t snowing at the moment, the clouds overhead were dark and grey.

  Dani made a cup of coffee and a bowl of porridge. Sitting at the kitchen table while the dogs went out into the garden, she let her mind wander over the details of the case. Hopefully, the CCTV footage which she was going to review with Battle today, would reveal something useful. Larkmoor House—and what had happened to Tanya’s car while it had been parked there—seemed to be the key to finding the killer.

  He had been in the car park that evening and he had tampered with the Volkswagen. Even if none of the hospital staff had seen him, the camera must have captured something. The fact that the missing persons team had already seen the footage and dismissed it didn’t fill Dani with hope, but she had to believe that a fresh set of eyes—hers and Battle’s— would see something the others had missed.

  Her phone rang. It was Battle.

  Dani swallowed a mouthful of porridge and answered. “Morning, guv.”

  “Morning,” he said. “Merry Christmas and all that. We didn’t arrange a time to meet at the station. How does nine-thirty sound?”

  “Great,” she said.

  “Also, I’ve got some news,” he said. “Sheridan got the girl to talk.”

  Dani pushed up from the table. “Did he? What did she say?”

  “Not much yet. Some clues, maybe, but it’s all a bit vague. Sheridan didn’t want to push Abigail when she’d just opened up.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “Yes, it is. You can read his report when you come in.”

  “Are you already there? In the station, I mean.”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “I’ll come in now, then. I’ll just get ready and then I’ll be on my way.”

  “All right, see you soon.” He hung up.

  Dani quickly showered and dressed. As she was about to leave the house, she remembered what Charlie had said to her about a present. She went into her daughter’s room and opened the top drawer of the bedside table, where she found a small square object wrapped in silver paper. Dani took it into the kitchen and opened it.

  Inside the silver paper, which she ripped open and placed on the worktop, there was a dark blue jewellery box. Dani opened it to reveal a pendant on a delicate gold chain. The pendant was also gold, and shaped like a sun.

  There was a note in the box. Dani unfolded it.

  The note was written in Charlie’s neat handwriting. She’d always had neat handwriting, even when she was a child, which was more than Dani could say for herself; her own handwriting was an untidy scrawl.

  * * *

  Mum,

  * * *

  I know you don’t like winter so here’s a sun that will be with you all year round.

  * * *

  Lots of love

  Charlie

  XXX

  * * *

  Dani felt a tear spring into her eye. She wiped it away and texted Charlie. It’s beautiful! Thank you! xxx

  She put the necklace on and inspected herself in the mirror by the front door. Since she was meeting Battle’s wife today and wanted to make a good impression, she’d put on her nicest dark blue blouse and black trousers. She opened a button on the blouse to show off the sun pendant. She supposed she’d pass muster.

  She wasn’t feeling very glamorous five minutes later when—swaddled in her winter jacket with her woolly hat on her head—she was wiping snow off the Land Rover’s windows. It had started snowing again. The cold morning air bit at her face and the wind blew snow off the Land Rover’s bonnet into her eyes.

  When the car was finally snow-free, she got inside and put the heater on full-blast. Throwing her hat onto the passenger seat, she reversed onto the road and drove carefully to Northallerton.

  There was very little traffic about. On any other day, that might mean that she’d make good time to headquarters but the horrendous driving conditions prevented her from taking advantage of the quiet roads. She had the wipers on to combat the snow that whipped against the windscreen and she had to be careful where she drove because the edge of the road was lost beneath a thick white blanket. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up in a ditch.

  When she finally got to the headquarters building at Northallerton, she had a low-grade headache from concentrating on the glaring, white roads.

  The building was more quiet than usual. Dani took the lift up to the floor where the incident room had been set up. A few officers, uniformed and plain clothes, sat at their computers. Battle stood in front of the whiteboards, gazing at them as if the name of Tanya Ward’s killer would suddenly appear there by magic.

  “Summers,” he said, when he saw her. “They’ve set the CCTV footage up in the AV Room, wherever that is.”

  “One floor down, guv,” she told him.

  He scooped up a file from his desk and gestured to the door. “Lead the way.”

  She led him to the lift and while they were waiting for the door to open, he handed her the file. “Tony Sheridan’s report. She didn’t tell him much, but we now know our man had a sister named Ruth. And he kept Abigail in some sort of underground room.”

  “A basement?” she
asked.

  “I don’t know. It sounded a bit different to that. It wasn’t beneath a house. He had to transport her to the house from this place. It sounds like it’s in the middle of nowhere.”

  She frowned, thinking. Had the killer constructed a custom-built dungeon somewhere? If so, why not have it close to the house, where he could keep an eye on his victims? Perhaps he was afraid of visitors or other family members hearing what was going on down there.

  But building an underground room somewhere in the countryside was risky. It would attract attention. Heavy machinery would have been involved. A sudden thought struck her.

  “The cold war bunkers,” she said.

  Battle raised an eyebrow. “The what?”

  “In the ‘50s and ’60s, the government built a number of bunkers in preparation for a nuclear strike. I don’t know how many there are in this area but there are probably a few still remaining. I saw one once, years ago, when I was out walking. From above ground, they don’t look like much more than a small stone cube with a hatch on the top.”

  “And you think he could have kept Abigail in one of these bunkers?”

  The lift door opened with a ding. They got in and took it down to the next floor. Battle fished his phone out of his pocket and dialled someone. “Morgan,” he said when his call was answered. “What are you up to? Yes, yes, Merry Christmas. Listen, I want you to look into cold war bunkers in this area. How many are there and, more importantly, where are they? That’s right, cold war bunkers. Get that information to me as soon as you can. Thanks.” He hung up and put the phone back into his pocket.

  “Was that the DS you arrived at the hospital with?” Dani asked.

  He nodded. “DS Lorna Morgan.”