CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
DAY TWENTY-SIX: 1st August.
As soon as he had made contact with Kirsty over the Internet and hooked her with ‘Josh’ he had begun the same process as he had done with all the others. For over three weeks he had been following, watching and hiding from her, learning her life. And he had collected hundreds of photographs along the way. He had placed the digital images in an album and brought them out nightly from their hiding place to run his hands over her pretty face, imagining he was touching that smooth unblemished skin.
Two days ago, after all his hard work, he had pulled it off. He had finally managed to entice Kirsty into meeting his seventeen year old creation, and as he stood very still beside the bushes of The Barnwell Countryside park he knew that very soon he would be meeting and physically touching the girl who had so far only been a two dimensional vision in his fantasies.
He took another glance at his watch and scanned the area around him. There had been a couple of dog walkers earlier but he knew from previous visits to this location that around this time the majority of people who used it would be at work. It was the perfect meeting place. He knew as soon as he had suggested the venue to Kirsty that it would lure her into a false sense of security. She didn’t know the area as well as he did. He had done his homework.
He had made attempts to disguise his appearance, to make himself look old enough to be the father of a seventeen year old. He had waxed down his hair, put on a pair of unfashionable spectacles from a charity shop and had donned his father’s old pit duffel jacket, which had been left behind all those years back. When he had looked himself over in the mirror before leaving home he had thought he had got the effect about right. After all he didn’t want to scare her off because he looked weird. And he had rehearsed his lines so many times.
Spotting movement by the stile, which he had under surveillance, he caught his breath. When he had done an earlier recce of the park he had identified it as being the entranceway nearest to the woodland.
He squinted at the moving figure, bringing it into focus. He could tell by the outline it was her. He double-checked that the area was clear, slipped on his gloves and slid out of from the bushes.
* * * * *
“Hi I’m Josh’s Dad.”
The man had suddenly appeared from nowhere and had made Kirsty jump.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you like that. Josh was delayed at his football training and he asked me if I’d come and meet you and run you back to the house.”
Kirsty’s mind was racing. She hadn’t expected Josh’s Dad to turn up. She looked him up and down. He looked silly in that coat — it was too big for him. Although a good eighteen inches taller than her she could tell he was only slightly built. There were signs that his hair was thinning despite covering it with a layer of wax and he had the kind of facial growth that looks like a perpetual five o’clock shadow. The heavy rimmed glasses hid his eyes, but she did notice they seemed to be darting around, not really focussed on her.
In that instant she thought his face was familiar, and yet somehow different. It puzzled her.
“You okay with that?” He asked.
Now where had she had heard that voice before. She hesitated for a second, trying to remember where she had seen this man.
“Well I’m not too sure,” she replied.
Then the man pulled his mobile phone from his pocket. “You can give him a ring if you want.” He slid the screen up to reveal the keypad, and edging closer proffered it to her.
This didn’t feel right one bit Kirsty thought to herself.
“I’ll just ring my mum and tell her what’s happening.” She could feel her voice burbling nervously, the words almost sticking in her throat. She reached into her own pocket for her phone, but the man took hold of her arm gently.
“Josh will be so sad if he doesn’t meet you. I can assure you everything’s fine, you’ve no need to worry.”
She tried to act normally and not to freeze. She knew what she should do — what her parents had always told her to do, but her legs wouldn’t let her. A panicky fear enveloped her.
Then the man turned sharply. Kirsty saw his eyes in those too big spectacles widen revealing a look of real evil and she opened her mouth to scream.
He swung back his hand and she felt the sharp slap on her cheek, which rocked her head sideways. It was less painful than expected; the terror inside was more frightening. She choked back her scream as he grabbed at her jacket.
“I’ll fucking kill you if you fucking scream.”
His voice had taken on a deep and menacing tone and she could feel his breath hot on her face, and it smelt stale.
“You’re coming with me and if you fucking struggle I’ll kill you right here and now.”
For a split second it entered her head that this must be the killer who had murdered her best friend Rebecca. She made an attempt to pull free from his grip. She never saw the fist, just felt the searing pain around her right eye. There was a crunching noise from the bridge of her nose and a series of flashes and stars clouded her vision. Then came the pain — a sharp and hot pain that made her feel sick.
The man grabbed at her hair, but she twisted away from him and she felt strands being ripped from her skull. Instinct to survive was now taking over and Kirsty was thrashing and kicking out, screaming for all she was worth.
Another blow to her face momentarily stopped her from fighting back. She felt something trickle into the back of her throat and it sent another wave of panic through her body. Then something tightened around her neck closing off her ability to breathe. She clawed at her throat. She felt herself slumping forward and there was a painful thump in between her shoulders. There was the strange sensation, which felt like a warm trickle of fluid running down her spine. Then it was as if someone had thrown a bucket of water onto her back. Darkness seemed to drift over her. The dark became thick, cloying and sticky, throttling and choking her senses. The darkness became black; black as pitch.
* * * * *
“See I told you I was telling the truth,” Billy Smith said, delving his handcuffed hands into a muddy hole and dragging out a dirtied and battered bin liner which had seen better days.
“You wouldn’t believe how many times we’ve heard that,” Grace replied dryly, slipping on her latex gloves to preserve the evidence. “I’ll take over now Billy,” she continued, jumping across the dried up dyke.
“And I’m guessing you want me to take those cuffs off you now?” Hunter asked, following Grace’s lead across the dyke.
Billy offered his encased wrists, prayer like, and Hunter snapped off the police bracelets.
“Thank Christ for that,” Billy said rubbing the red weal marks on his wrists. “You had me sweating back there in the nick. I really thought you were going to stitch me up for murder you know. Even when I’d offered to show you where I found that mobile.”
“We don’t do things like that Billy,” Hunter responded. “Anyway that’s for all the times you’ve got away with it. And you’re not exactly in the clear yet we’ve still got your alibi to check out.”
Billy coloured up and returned a sheepish look.
In one respect Hunter was disappointed. He had thought that the finding of Rebecca’s mobile in Billy’s caravan was the breakthrough they had been waiting for. Finding this lot buried as Billy had said took the enquiry into another dimension. It also meant that if Billy’s alibi did check out, and he now firmly believed it would do, it would mean he was also in the clear over the Carol Siddons murder, and therefore his link with Karen Gardner and Paul Goodright wouldn’t need to come out. He couldn’t wait to ring Paul up later and put his mind at ease.