Cut Short (22 page)

  She searched again for something she'd overlooked, only there wasn't just one loose end that didn't fit. Nothing made sense. Geraldine finished her glass of wine and returned to the kitchen to find something to eat. The shelves were neatly stacked, every surface sparkling. An image of Tiffany May's kitchen flashed across her mind and she shuddered. Dirt and disorder. A serial killer prowling the streets was part of that. They had to find him, or there would be another victim, and another. She poured a final glass of wine, positively her last one, but it didn't help her relax. She couldn't sleep, knowing the killer might be out on the streets in the gathering dark ness, stalking his next victim.

38

Mermaid

Jim pushed his hair wretchedly out of his eyes. It felt dirty and itchy.

  'We keep our hair and fingernails short to keep them clean,' Miss Elsie said, but it wasn't his fault. He couldn't cut his own hair. He was in the front room of the house where he kept some of the clothes he found outside charity shops. In the half-light from the street lamp he poked his finger through a small hole in a jumper. The jumper felt soft. He pulled it over his head. It was lucky he was looking out between the gaps in the boards over the window as she went by, weaving her way between the street lamps, long hair swinging from side to side like a mermaid.

  He ran along the hallway, across the kitchen, out the back and along the side passage to the street. She was still there, walking unsteadily in high-heeled shoes and singing in a high voice. She didn't hear him, creeping like a panther. In a flash his hand was in place. He didn't even flinch when she kicked him as he lifted her off her feet and hurried back, his hand still clamped over her mouth. It was awkward, holding on to her as he ran. She was annoying him with all that wriggling but it didn't matter because he knew what to do. It was soon over.

  He didn't want to take her into his shed but he needed to think what to do with her.

  'Be careful!' Miss Elsie warned him. It was dangerous. He was getting dirty ideas because he had a girl in his shed and no one could tell him what to do with her. Giggling with excitement, he felt around for his torch and switched it on. The light played on her hair and face. He closed her eyes, which were staring crossly at him. He didn't want her watching him. She had shiny blue stuff on her eyelids and he wiped it off with his fingers, careful not to get any on his clothes. He was too clever to leave any clues. The beam moved past the ugly red marks on her neck, across her sparkly top. It was beautiful. It glittered at him as he waved the torch in the air above her. The mound of her breasts made him chuckle. No one could see him looking at her. No one could tell him not to be dirty. She was the dirty one. There were big black smudges on her face. He picked up a sock and rubbed at them.

  The light moved down her body. If he leaned over he could see right up inside her short skirt but he already knew what it looked like there. He'd seen a girl's fanny before. He'd pulled her knickers down in the park. He smiled. Miss Elsie didn't know that.

  The torch moved on down the girl's legs and sudden fear gripped him. She only had one shoe. The other one must have fallen off when he was bringing her to the shed. If they found it, they'd know she was there. Reluctantly leaving her alone in his shed, he ran back to the street. He found her shoe easily, shiny and winking in the lamplight. He shoved it into his trouser pocket where he felt it knocking against his leg as he jogged back to the shed where she was waiting for him. He had to hurry. She had to be gone before daylight, but he didn't know where to take her. He sat next to her, stroking her hair. He wanted to take her to the park, where he could hide her in the bushes. She'd be safe there.

  They'd been cutting down trees in the park. That was mean. Now he had to find somewhere else to hide her. She had to go away, because she was dirty. She had no clothes on. That was her punishment for dropping her shoe. She'd wanted to get him in trouble, leaving her shoe behind as a clue. So she had to take off the other shoe and all her clothes. He had to be sure she couldn't leave anything else lying around for them to find. It served her right. He wasn't scared of her. She thought he was scared, but he'd seen girls before. He wanted to do sex to her, only he didn't know how and she wouldn't help him. She just lay there refusing to move.

  He didn't like her in his shed. She was dirty and she made him think dirty. He didn't like her any more. He searched for his thinking brain. He made a picture of the park in his head. Miss Elsie told him to throw her in the pond, like a stone. That would make her clean and he'd have his shed to himself again. It was a very clever idea.

  'How do I do it?' he asked, but Miss Elsie wouldn't say. He wished the girl on his bed would go away. He squeezed his eyes tight shut. When he opened them she was still there but Miss Elsie had gone.

  He couldn't get the girl inside a black bin bag. She wouldn't help him at all. He began to panic. He needed to get her to the park. Angrily he pushed her off his mattress and sat down. She fell to the floor with a thump. It served her right. He was in big trouble. He needed help. She thought he was going to cry but she was wrong. He wasn't weak. And he knew where to go for help.

  Kneeling down by his bed, he began to pray to his father, the one who gave him his daily bread on earth as it is in heaven. The one who'd brought her to him to be made clean. He opened his door a little and stared out into the darkness. He wished he was back in his room. There were no girls there. He used to sit at his window and watch people in the park. They couldn't see him and he'd liked that. He stared into the darkness and wondered what to do with the girl in his shed.

39

Missing

Geraldine hadn't slept well and left the house early. As she sped along the motorway she glanced in the mirror and caught herself frowning, but she was too preoccupied to care about her worry lines. She couldn't shake off the niggling conviction that she'd seen something significant, if only she could remember what it was. At the station she went straight to the Incident Room where she found Merton rifling through a pile of documents on her desk.

  'What the hell are you doing?' she yelled. He looked up, startled, pale eyes stretched wide, and explained he was looking for his pen.

  'I took a call on your phone while you were out yesterday and thought I might've left my pen on your desk. Is that a problem, Geraldine? We're supposed to be on the same team.' He took a step back and Geraldine sat down.

  'Sorry. I'd just prefer you to ask before you go rummaging through my things,' she mumbled. 'I had these in a certain order, and now they're all mixed up,' she added untruthfully. Merton slunk back to his own desk, where he sat muttering about her being a control freak. Geraldine was riled at hearing her own criticism of Kathryn Gordon thrown back at her. Her resentment didn't diminish when she calmed down sufficiently to acknowledge she'd overreacted. The case was unsettling her, but that was no excuse. Five minutes later, she moved a folder and saw a Parker ballpoint that had rolled underneath it. Merton reclaimed it with relief.

  'It's part of a set my daughter gave me.' He scowled at Geraldine, as though accusing her of wanting to steal his pen. Remembering what Carter had told her, Geraldine smiled at him but Merton just grunted and walked away. Geraldine ignored him and soon she was too preoccupied with developments on the case to remember Merton's rude ness, or worry that she'd provoked it by her unreasonable behaviour.

  A hysterical woman arrived at the station to report a missing girl. Mrs Ross had flaming red hair, grey at the roots. Her face was lined with worry, her bottom lip bitten raw.

  'She's not a bad girl, Inspector,' she said, as though that might persuade Geraldine to take her concern more seriously. Geraldine looked down and flipped through her notebook to hide her own alarm. Quickly regaining her outward composure, she began her questions.

  'Try and calm down, Mrs Ross. It's important we get these details right.' She paused and the woman nodded, twisting a soggy tissue in her fingers. 'How old is your daughter?'

  'Fourteen.'

  'Have you brought a photograph?' The woman shook her head. Tears spilled from her swollen eyes but she didn't wipe her face. 'That's not a problem, Mrs Ross. A description will be fine for now.' The distraught woman nodded and took a deep breath.

  'Jacqueline's a very pretty girl. She's got my hair, only hers is long and wavy, when she hasn't straightened it. She's got blonde highlights, but her friends have always called her Rusty on account of her hair. She's got lots of friends, Inspector. They're always calling round for her. She's popular with the other girls.' She gave a faint smile, picturing her daughter. 'Her eyes are a kind of bluey green and she's tall. She's always been quite thin, but well developed. She's got that sort of build. She's sporty. Likes netball, and she can swim …' She sighed heavily and sniffed. 'I don't know what else to tell you, really. She's a good girl.'

  Mrs Ross hadn't seen her daughter since Friday morning. 'She left for school as usual, only she was dead excited …' She stopped suddenly, and swallowed hard.

  'She was excited,' Geraldine prompted her.

  'Because one of the other girls was having a party after school.'

  Relief flooded through Geraldine but she suppressed it and spoke in a level tone. 'Was it a sleepover, Mrs Ross?'

  'No, nothing like that. It was just a few of the girls getting together for an evening, getting dressed up together, you know.' Geraldine said she did. 'I told her she couldn't stay over. She had to be home first thing this morning because of her tutor. She has a maths tutor comes on a Saturday morning. She's got her GCSEs next year and we thought …'

  Geraldine nodded. A teenager who failed to come home for a maths lesson wasn't exactly cause for panic. Even so …

  Mrs Ross voiced Geraldine's thoughts. 'It's just that, with that strangler, well, I'm worried about her, Inspector.'

  'Did she want to stay at her friend's house? Did she mind having to come back home?'

  'She was fine about it. The maths tutor's made a huge difference already. Jacqueline's been getting much better marks for her homework. Even the midweek ones he doesn't help her with. She promised to be home by one o'clock the latest. She knew I'd wait up for her.'

  'How was she getting home?'

  'I gave her money for a taxi. It's not far, only my husband won't wait up that late. He gets tired, you see. He's an early riser. If Jacqueline's home before eleven he'll fetch her, but any later – which is unusual – and I give her money for a taxi. I don't want her out by herself at night. Not with a killer loose on the streets.'

  Geraldine asked about the girl who had hosted the party.

  'I phoned the house and spoke to her when Jacqueline didn't come home. I waited up all night. I thought she must've fallen asleep round at her friend's and then …' Geraldine, scribbling down the details, looked up as Mrs Ross's voice rose in pitch. 'She said Jacqueline left her house yesterday evening. She said she tried to find her at about ten thirty. She wanted to tell Jacqueline something, only she couldn't find her. She didn't know what time Jacqueline had gone, but she was sure it was before ten thirty. And Jacqueline left her bag behind, with the taxi money and her keys and phone.'

  Geraldine struggled to sound unperturbed as she assured Mrs Ross they would set a search in motion immediately. 'A constable will take a list of all Jacqueline's friends. And try not to worry, Mrs Ross. Most children who disappear like this turn up safely. You'll probably find she's been at another friend's house all the time.' Mrs Ross nodded but she looked about as convinced as Geraldine felt. The image of a small pale body on a table in the mortuary slipped into Geraldine's mind as she comforted the anxious mother facing her across the table in the interview room.

  After reporting the incident, Geraldine went straight to the house where the party had been held. It stood at one end of a row of Victorian terraces. She walked up a crazy paving path, slippery in the rain. The sound of shouting floated out to meet her and she heard a girl's voice, hysterical with rage, as she pressed the bell. She rang again, trying to time the peal to coincide with a gap in the clamour inside. A woman opened the door.

  'You'd better come in. You certainly picked your moment,' she said as Geraldine held up her ID and explained the reason for her visit. She turned and called over her shoulder. 'Norm! Norm! Come here!' A gaunt man in shirtsleeves and slippers emerged from a door at the far end of the hall, his bald pate shining under the hall light. A teenage girl hovered behind him, her face puffy from crying.

  'Who the hell's this, now?' he demanded angrily. Geraldine flashed her warrant card and the man whipped round to yell at the girl. 'Now see what you've done! Only gone and involved the police! Some of these nice friends of yours brought drugs into the house, did they? You stupid, stupid …' He stopped as the girl vanished through an inside door.

  'Norm, it's about that girl gone missing,' Ella's mother hissed at him, 'the one whose mother phoned this morning.' Geraldine was quick to reassure them that she'd come to ask Ella a few questions about Jacqueline Ross and they led her into the front room where their daughter sat hiccupping and sulking.

  'We're following up a report on a missing girl. She never returned home last night. We understand she was at a party here, after school.'

  'Her party,' Norman Hooper growled, jerking his head at the girl. 'I said it was a mistake. But would you listen?' He turned on his wife who shrugged. She looked close to tears herself.

  Geraldine questioned the girl. Had Jacqueline Ross, nicknamed Rusty, been at the party? Did she stay overnight? What time did she leave? Did she leave alone? Did Ella know where she was now? Was she sure? Did Jacqueline have a boyfriend? Could she have gone home with anyone? Ella didn't show much interest. Her fit of sobbing over, she appeared listless, probably hungover. Rusty might have gone home with a friend. No, she hadn't seen her leave. Yes, she had a boyfriend. No, she couldn't remember his name. Mike? Andy? She was picking names at random, refusing to look at Geraldine.