Every Last Devil: A Chilling British Crime Thriller, page 8
Kett put an arm on the wall and bent as low as his back would let him. His shadow blocked the light, Franklin slapping his leg until he shuffled to the side. The man’s hair was light brown, streaked with grey around the temples. There was so much blood that it allowed the hair to defy gravity, standing straight like a Mohican.
“See it?” said Franklin, pointing to his scalp.
“No,” said Kett. “What am I looking at?”
“I see it,” said Hay, leaning in. “That is very strange.”
“Is that writing?” asked Savage, who peeked past Kett’s elbow.
“Is what writing?” he said, putting on his glasses, then taking them off again when it didn’t help.
“Do you want me to fetch you a magnifying glass, sir?” asked Savage. “And maybe a chair?”
“I’m fine!” he snapped. “I just can’t… Oh, right.”
He finally saw them, the angry lacerations that crisscrossed the man’s head—almost lost in the thick roots of his hair.
“Not words,” said Franklin. “But there’s definitely a pattern. A shape.”
Everyone stayed silent as she probed the man’s hair with her spoon.
“Could be a series of circles, but there are crosses too, almost like a crucifix. I don’t know. The cuts are as deep as they can be; I can see the skull in places. A very, very sharp blade. Probably a scalpel. Carefully done. I can’t see any mistakes.”
“How would you know?” asked Kett.
“I mean, there are no careless slips, no rough edges, no double lines. The crosses look identical in size and shape. Whoever did this took their time, and made it as clean as they could.”
“But why?” said Kett.
“Why chop a man’s head off, sir?” said Savage.
“Why fill his orifices with beans?” added Duke.
Kett didn’t answer them. He stood straight, both hands rubbing his lower back.
“I’m going to let Cara do her thing,” said Franklin. “After that, I’ll get him to my table and shave him. Then we’ll be able to see the wound for the trees.”
“Thanks, Emily. Call us when you find anything.”
He walked away, making it as far as the tree, before the pain in his back stopped him. He braced a hand on the cold trunk, sipping air.
“You sure you’re okay, sir?” said Savage as she joined him. “You look like a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” he said again. “It’ll pass. It always does.”
Savage gave him a sympathetic look.
“Beans,” said Duke as he walked over. “It’s so weird.”
“It is,” said Kett. “But it obviously means something to the killer. They take out the eyes and replace them with beans, they put more in the ears and mouth. What does that tell you?”
Duke started to speak, but Kett cut him off.
“If you say he really liked beans again, Aaron, you’re going to lose your head.”
Duke pretended to zip his mouth shut. Savage blew out a long, slow breath.
“Feels like a control thing, sir,” she said. “A sensory thing. The killer is using beans to blind their victim, to mute him, to deafen him.”
“He’s dead,” said Duke. “He’s already all those things.”
“Maybe not in the mind of the killer, though. Maybe they think they’re stopping him from seeing and hearing in the afterlife.”
“Or from telling anyone who did it,” said Kett with a nod. “That’s good, Kate.”
“Might be way off, sir.”
“Or you might be right. Either way, we’ve got a murderer who doesn’t just kill, they desecrate. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence they do it here, on consecrated ground.”
“Almost certainly deconsecrated, sir,” said Savage.
“But it’s still a church. They picked the site for a reason.”
He stood straight, wincing as he waited for the pain to return. But whatever had gone wrong in his back seemed to have righted itself. He took a step, then another, hobbling like an old man.
“You want some help, sir?” asked Duke, offering his arm.
“No,” said Kett, but he took it anyway, and they made their way to the archway like they were walking down the aisle.
“You think the woman we saw on the video did this?” asked Savage.
Kett waited until he’d crossed the threshold before answering, feeling an unexpected wave of relief wash over him as soon as he walked back into the sun-drenched forest.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Feels like too much of a coincidence that she was here, and that she attacked Charlie and Aggie when they found the head. But it doesn’t make sense. She kills a man, she—”
“She looked about a hundred years old,” said Duke. “How would she kill him?”
“She kills a man,” Kett went on, ignoring him. “She cuts off his head, brings it here five, six, seven days ago. Why is she still here? She must have known that eventually somebody would find it, and if she’s hanging around picking fights with people, then she’s going to get caught.”
“Unless it means something to her, sir,” said Savage. “This isn’t your bog-standard murder. The beans, the marks on the head. It means something, it’s… I don’t know, special. Sacred.”
“Then we figure out why,” said Kett. “If we understand what the killer is trying to do, we can find them. Kate, can you head back, see if you can get to the bottom of it?”
“You’re sure you don’t need me here, sir?” Savage replied.
“We do, but I can spare you. You stand the best shot of figuring it out.”
Savage smiled, offering a nod before heading towards the path. Duke waited for his orders, one finger running over the smooth skin where his eyebrow should have been.
“Go with her, Aaron,” Kett said. “I’m sure you’ll come in useful somehow.”
Duke bounded off, calling Savage’s name.
“And take that film crew with you!” he yelled after him.
Porter was wandering over, still fixated on his phone.
“You okay, Pete?” Kett asked. “Having a nice rest out here, are you? Enjoying basking in the sun, taking it easy?”
“Sorry, sir,” said Porter, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Was trying to get a signal. You find anything?”
“Plenty,” said Kett. “Not sure if it will help us, though. Any sign of the Aggie girl yet?”
Porter shook his head.
“You think she’s just run, sir?” he said. “Got herself lost? Hiding, maybe?”
“I hope so,” said Kett.
Because the alternatives were a lot worse.
“Let’s go help with the search,” he said, setting off towards the trees. “The sooner we find her, the sooner we can work out what’s going on.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Can’t say I’m sorry to get away from that place,” said Duke from the driver’s seat of the IRV.
He was attempting a three-point turn in the narrow lane, and was currently on point seven. There weren’t many people left to watch them go, most of the uniformed coppers deep in the woods as they searched for Aggie Clegg. There was only Josh, his camera to his shoulder as he filmed them leaving from further down the street.
Judging by the smile on his face, he was enjoying Duke’s awful driving a great deal.
Duke finished reversing, then pulled sharply away, the car jolting so hard as it mounted the high verge that Savage’s head hit the ceiling.
“Whoops,” said Duke, looking in the rear-view mirror. “Hope he didn’t get that.”
“He definitely got that,” said Savage.
She watched the woods fly by the window, her body heavy with guilt as Duke accelerated. Leaving felt like the wrong thing to be doing. They should have been helping look for the missing girl, or the person who had done this to her. She was no good to anyone back at HQ.
“Nice to have some alone time, anyway,” Duke went on, and she felt rather than saw the smile he aimed at her.
“Aaron, we’ve had nothing but alone time for weeks,” she said. “Besides, it’s not really alone time, is it?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the two women in the back seat. Megan, the assistant camera operator, aimed her camcorder at Savage, her attention firmly on the viewscreen. Next to her, Kelly Armstrong stared at her phone like she was receiving news about the end of the world.
“Oh, just ignore us,” said Megan. “Pretend we’re not here.”
“Easier said than done,” Savage muttered, turning to the front.
“But the relationship stuff is good,” added Kelly without looking up. “People love a bit of romance. How long have you two been engaged?”
“A while,” said Savage, at the same time that Duke replied with, “Five months, two weeks, one day and…”
He glanced at his watch.
“And about fourteen hours.”
Savage looked at him with mock horror.
“It’s a memorable date,” he went on. “The day after Valentine’s Day, when I was blown up.”
“You weren’t blown up,” said Savage, wondering how on earth Duke—who struggled to remember which way to put his trousers on some mornings—had calculated the length of their relationship so accurately. “You were… ejected. From a truck.”
“As it blew up,” said Duke.
“Can you maybe talk about your wedding a little?” said Kelly. “Like, discuss it, plan it, whatever people do. But just talk between yourselves, like we’re not here.”
“Uh…” said Savage. “I mean, we haven’t really…”
“Probably a barn,” said Duke. “For our wedding, yeah?”
“A barn?” Savage replied, turning to look at him. “You want to get married in a barn? I’m not a horse, Aaron.”
“A big barn,” he went on.
“So we can invite all the chickens and sheep?”
Duke’s cheeks were starting to mottle beneath his uneven beard.
“No, it will be nice, with like ribbons and baskets and stuff. What were you thinking? A church?”
He pulled a face.
“I mean, yeah,” said Savage. “I hadn’t really given it much thought.”
She hadn’t really thought about it at all, even though Duke had taken to leaving clippings from magazines and little doodles around the flat, making practice bouquets of flowers he’d collected walking around the block. While he’d been convalescing at home, he’d even gone as far as crocheting a miniature wedding couple for the top of the cake—her in a white dress, him in uniform.
It was quite sweet, although what he didn’t know yet was that Colin the dog had chewed the mini-woollen Duke to shreds. She’d had to bury the evidence in the outside bin.
“Churches are so cold, and dark, and full of severed…” Duke caught himself before he said too much, Kelly’s eyes flicking up in interest. “Uh, pews. You know what I mean. Barns are warm and big and welcoming. All the best weddings happen in barns.”
“Well, if you want to get married in a barn, I’m happy to get married in a barn,” said Savage, eager for the conversation to move on. “A big barn wedding it is.”
Duke pumped his fist in the air.
“Can’t wait for you to see the tractor I want us to arrive in,” he said.
Savage didn’t rise to the bait. They’d emerged from the tunnel of trees, the summer sun pouring through the windows, the colour of honey and thick enough to drown in. The woods continued on the left-hand side of the road, but to the right was an enormous field, nothing past that but the promise of the sea.
“Are you allowed to tell us what you found back there?” said Megan. “Somebody’s missing, right?”
“Sorry,” said Savage. “We can’t say anything right now.”
“Somebody called Aggie, judging by the shouts.”
“Really, when I can tell you something, I will.”
“Can you tell us where we’re going, at least?”
“HQ,” said Savage, to an audible groan of disappointment from Kelly.
Savage was disappointed too. The last thing she felt like doing right now was heading to the office and trying to figure out the meaning behind what they’d discovered at the ruin.
It was hard not to think about it, though.
Why do that to someone? she asked herself. Why cut off somebody’s head and mutilate it like that?
She was no stranger to extreme crime, but this felt worse than anything she’d seen so far on the job. This felt brutal, and barbaric, and blasphemous.
“The silence isn’t really working for us,” said Kelly from the back. “You want to be on TV, you need to give us something.”
“I don’t want to be on TV,” said Savage.
Duke’s mouth opened as he tried to start a conversation. He glanced at Savage, panicking.
“Uh… This weather, eh?”
He pretended to wipe his brow.
“Phew!”
Savage was grateful the cameras were pointed at the back of her head so they couldn’t film her rolling her eyes.
Duke slowed the car as they approached a junction, and Savage caught sight of a building in the woods to her left. A cottage. Like the church, it was little more than a ruin, mummified in greenery and almost invisible. The downstairs windows had been smashed, the upstairs ones blinded by a century of filth.
“Hold up, Aaron,” she said. “Stop here a second.”
Duke brought the car to a halt, keeping the engine running. There was a low brick wall along the side of the road, a wrought-iron gate that drooped under a blanket of ivy, as if the forest had pulled it loose. The path to the house was thick with weeds, and they looked like they’d been recently trampled.
“How far from the church are we?” she asked. “About a mile?”
“About that,” said Duke. “You see something?”
Savage opened the door and stepped out, walking to the low wall. Duke switched off the IRV, and in the quiet that followed she realised she could still hear the shouts from the woods. If Aggie had bolted after she’d been attacked, there was every chance she could have run this way. It wasn’t like there were many houses around here to take shelter in.
“What’re you thinking?” asked Duke as he climbed out of the car.
“Thinking it might be worth a look,” she replied.
“I’ll come.”
“Don’t you want to babysit your friends?” she asked.
“I’ll come,” he repeated, adjusting his equipment belt. He rested his hand on his Taser to make sure it was still there, walking to her side.
“Hey, can you let us out?” shouted Kelly from the car.
“Sorry,” said Savage. “It’s for your own safety. We won’t be long.”
She stepped over the wonky gate, stamping down the brambles that blocked the path. They cut through the thin cotton of her trousers, scratching her legs.
“Ow,” she said.
“You want me to go first?” asked Duke.
“You’re alright,” she replied, ploughing on. “I don’t think I need Britain’s bravest copper to get me past some weeds.”
The path was a short one, just a dozen yards or so to the cottage’s front door. It was small, just a two up and two down by the look of it. The front door was still in place so Savage made her way to the nearest window, grabbing hold of the crumbling sash frame to steady herself. It was dark inside, especially after the blindingly bright day, and it stank of neglect.
“Can’t see much,” said Duke, who was staring through the window on the other side of the front door. “You thinking our killer might be here?”
“I’m thinking our missing girl might be,” she said. “Although, I’m not ruling anything out. You—”
Savage stopped at the sound of a thump and a yelp. Her heart had revved into action before she realised it was coming from behind her. Megan was in the process of falling over the front seat of the IRV, her legs in the air.
“Unbelievable,” Savage muttered. She turned to the window, clearing her throat. “Aggie? Agnes Clegg, are you in there? It’s the police.”
She was answered by a soft, insect-like click that made her skin erupt in goosebumps, her scalp shrivelling. The noise came again, morphing into a low groan.
“You hear that?” she asked, stepping back.
“Yeah,” said Duke, one hand on his Taser again.
“Aggie?” Savage called. “If you’re here, try to let me know.”
The clicks came again, like somebody gently clucking their tongue. It sounded too close, as if somebody was standing right next to her, breathing into her ear. Despite the heat of the day, she was suddenly freezing.
“Aggie?” said Duke.
Savage’s eyes had adjusted to the dark a little, and she saw a bare room in front of her, half of the ceiling hanging from the rotten joists. A door sat ajar in the right-hand wall.
She lifted her leg over the sill of the broken window, only to hear a protest from Duke.
“Let me go,” he said.
She appreciated the chivalry until she saw him look at the car. Megan was standing by the gate, her camcorder to her face.
“You worried people are going to think less of you if you let me go first?” she asked quietly, straddling the window.
“No,” he said. “I mean, yeah, a little. And I don’t want you to get hurt, obviously.”
She glanced into the house again, into that dark interior where something still clicked and groaned.
“Fair enough,” she said. “It’s all yours.”
He nodded his thanks, unstrapping his Taser. She climbed off the window to let him pass. He threw another look back at the camera, narrowing his eyes like Bruce Willis, then proceeded to squeeze his enormous frame through the gap.
“Police armed with Taser!” he called out, far louder than he needed to. “You have been warned.”
Savage rolled her eyes again, then followed him into the house. She hopped down from the window ledge, scrubbing the dirt from her hands. Duke was moving slowly across the room, his Taser out in front of him.
“Surprised you didn’t do a combat roll through the window,” said Savage, the house turning her voice into a whisper.
“You think I should have?” Duke asked, glancing back. “I can do it again?”
