A moment flashed through Gina’s mind. While looking out of her bedroom window the previous night, she felt that someone was watching. It was something she couldn’t see or prove, but there was something off, maybe a hint of a shadow that shouldn’t have been there, a slight movement that couldn’t have been accounted for by the breeze or wild animals. Had Mrs Swinton felt the same? Had she then seen her husband and concocted a plan to kill him? She tried to hide the shiver that took her by surprise.
‘Another thing to consider. The weather made it impossible for forensics to tell how the coffin had been transported to that part of the woods; most of the soil was sludge when we got there. Logic tells me some sort of trolley was used. How did our killer get their victim there? Either more than one person is involved or separate visits were made to the burial spot. One journey to dig the hole, another to get the coffin there and a final journey to transport or lure the victim to the coffin. Did our victim know his killer and turn up willingly? Was he drugged and led there? We won’t get the toxicology results back for ages but this is something we should consider. Was he wheeled on some sort of trolley? There are still so many questions that need answering. This would be a mammoth task for one person but it would be doable.’
‘Could one person still transport something as bulky as a coffin?’ O’Connor stretched and leaned back.
Gina pulled out a printed photo from the wad of papers in front of her. ‘Yes, I did a little bit of research. Someone could have used something as compact as a jack-style coffin trolley, they fold up nicely, the wheels are designed to tackle rough terrains. Awkward but doable.’ Gina paused. ‘Timing is crucial. This person had to be coming and going in the middle of the night. Although not the busiest of walking routes, there are people in the woodland during the day. I can only imagine that whoever planned this is a night owl. They had to be digging and transporting the coffin while there was no one around. No one has come forward yet. If a witness had seen anyone digging or moving a coffin in the woods, given what has happened, I’m sure we’d know about it by now.’
Gina stared at the board, flitting her gaze from the crime scene photos to the people they’d spoken to. ‘What are we missing? Sally Stevens, the vicar – who did she see in the graveyard? Mrs Swinton – did she hate her husband enough to do this to him? I don’t believe she did, but I don’t want to rule that theory out just yet. She came across as being totally open when I spoke to her. Getting a dead body to that location would be impossible for one person. He was either lured to the location or there was more than one perp. If he was lured, it would be someone he trusted. We still know so little.’ She paused and stared at the question mark next to the squat before glancing at PC Smith. ‘I can’t believe we let this person get away. We’re all depending on your team spotting one of the squatters coming back to the house.’
‘Kapoor is there now. We will not be leaving this post, I can guarantee it. I’ll take over when she’s due a break.’
‘Thank you. You’re doing a great job. We need this mystery woman.’ Gina glanced back at Wyre. ‘Did you find anything more about Elsie Peterson’s gravestone? Was there a connection to Alex Swinton’s mother, Eveline Peterson?’
‘Yes, Elsie is Eveline’s mother and Alex’s grandmother.’
Gina glanced at the board. ‘Eveline was in Spain with Alex’s stepfather at the time of his murder. That rules them out. Double-check their whereabouts. I want the flights checked with the airlines and I want to know that they were on the flights. I need to be absolutely certain that they were in Spain at the time.’
O’Connor nodded and made a note on his pad.
‘I know it’s a long shot but it’s all we have at the moment. Have we had anything come back on the door-to-doors and press appeals?’ She rubbed her tired eyes and grabbed her coffee cup. She almost spat it back out. The brown liquid was as cold as her fingers and certainly wasn’t pleasant as it slipped down her throat.
O’Connor popped a fruit gum into his mouth. ‘Nothing as yet. We still have a lot of reports of kids hanging around, people on the streets dressed up. The calls in response to the media’s coverage have prompted a lot of people trying to tell us that Cleevesford is cursed by a woman who was buried alive years ago and never found. These types of unnecessary calls are clogging our resources up, if I’m honest. I did look into this so-called legend and it’s rife on social media. Many a ghost hunter has reported seeing the ghost of a woman holding a bell with no clapper but there is no record of this type of crime being committed in these woods or indeed any woodland in this area or at any time since records began. It’s nothing more than folklore, an urban legend the kids have developed over the years to scare each other.’
Gina’s brow furrowed. ‘Interesting. Our killer obviously knows of this legend too and is playing up to it. Keep an eye on social media. The “What’s Up Cleevesford” Facebook page is definitely worth a close follow. It may be that our killer is a member of the group and is reading everything, enjoying being the star of the show. Keep a list of everyone who comments on or reacts to these posts.’
‘Will do.’ O’Connor reached into his mouth to pull a bit of sweet from the ridges of his teeth.
‘Our victim had three matches in his possession. He may have already had these on his person at the time or he may well have been given them by the killer. If this is the case, why would the killer not have given him a torch? This is a long shot and it’s not the most logical trail to follow but with nothing else to go on for now, Wyre, will you do a search on arson cases, local to this area over the past thirty years to start with? There is something about matches that make me shudder. They would’ve used up the oxygen in the coffin quicker; fire is dangerous. It’s an avenue I want to pursue.’ She shuddered as she thought of a meticulous killer digging the hole on one night, taking the coffin on another and then taking or luring Alex Swinton to his death, leaving him with three matches.
‘Guv, you okay?’ Wyre smiled.
‘Yes, just thinking.’
Briggs pushed through the door. ‘Gina, can I have a word?’
She nodded. ‘Right, we’ll convene again soon. Keep me informed every step of the way. Are you all okay with what you’re doing next?’ Everyone nodded and muttered in agreement. She left the room and followed Briggs to his office.
‘How are you keeping?’
‘Good. We haven’t had any major breakthroughs and with the press on our backs, the pressure is mounting.’ Gina glanced out of his window and caught sight of another media van pulling in.
‘I’m fully up to date with what’s on the system. I meant how areyoudoing?’ He loosened his tie as he sat.
‘I really am okay, sir.’ Not this again. She could see what he was up to: he was questioning her mental state.
‘Those letters, they keep going around my head. I couldn’t sleep last night. You know how much I think of you and if anything happened—’
She smiled and sat opposite him. ‘Nothing’s going to happen.’
‘I’m not taking no for an answer. I want a panic alarm fitted in your house. No ifs, no buts.’
‘Okay.’ It was a small thing and if it made him feel better, she could accept having a panic alarm fitted, in fact, she wanted one fitted. She swallowed as her anxiety heightened. The threat was real, both she and Briggs knew it.
‘This killer knows things about you, personal things. I need you to think. Who else could know about you and Terry, I mean the most secret of details?’
Her heart began to hum and she placed her trembling fingers in her lap, out of his view. She couldn’t hide the quiver in her voice. ‘That’s the thing, no one.’ She knocked the chair over and stood, gasping for breath. She ran to his window and pressed her reddening face against the condensation on the pane as she breathed in and out. A member of the press glanced up, she moved away quickly. ‘It’s like whoever is doing this is in my mind.’
Briggs stood. ‘You’ll get through this, I promise.’
