Penny, please call me. Please. Let me help you. Cherie.
Would Penny truly trust her enough to text again? Was it even Penny? She leaned against the fence, shaking and shivering, sweat dripping down her forehead as she imagined Isaac reading the message she’d just sent.
‘Are you okay there?’ A woman leaned out of her bedroom window. One of the voyeurs had come out from behind dark glass and reached out. She ignored the woman and carried on down the path, hurrying towards where she’d parked for free on one of the residential roads.
Images of the figure in the long dark coat by where Alex was staying ran through her mind. She had been wearing something almost identical back then. It was just like her coat. Same pinched in shape. She’d worn it over her Dracula’s bride costume and it had looked like it fitted in with the theme so well at the time. That coat was a part of her costume. It was as if she was haunting herself, but this other person had been real. Were they real? Did she imagine the conversation with the teenagers?
Rain fell harder, splatting on her hood, seeping through the material. Chilled to the bone, she reached the car and got in. As soon as she got home, that coat she had kept in the loft for all these years was going on a bonfire. It would be gone, once and for all, along with her fear. Burn the lot. Burn it all. Burn the memories. She pulled the little bottle of vodka from her bag. As soon as she got home, it was hers. Stuff it, she’d stop on the way back and stock up on wine. There was no one left to try for, not even herself.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Jacob’s voice crackled through the hands-free but Gina couldn’t make out what was being said as she drove down the snaking Warwickshire roads in the dark. She thought of her home and how cold it would be when she got back. She’d sit and pore over the case notes and slowly her thoughts would turn to those letters and what they were doing to her. She realised she was gripping the steering wheel.
‘I can’t hear you. I’ll call you when I get home. Hello, hello?’ It was no good trying, he’d gone. All she knew was that the dog search had finished for the night, ready to resume in the morning and so far, nothing had been found. She exhaled. That wasn’t a bad thing. She also reminded herself that so little ground had been covered. Some of the officers were going to continue under torchlight for a while but they wouldn’t be able to keep that up for too long. If Penny was out there somewhere, she hoped they’d find her.
Her throat contracted. Whether the sheer panicky thoughts of someone else in a box caused that reaction or whether it was the severe lack of food in her system, she didn’t know. No breakfast and no lunch, that was the sum of the meals she’d had – none. All she’d had was a couple of biscuits. A wave of nausea crept from her throat to her rumbling gut. There was a block of cheese and a packet of crackers waiting for her back home. She’d refuel while she cranked up the laptop for the evening.
The press had almost stopped her completely as she’d left the station and Lyndsey’s final words were like a punch to her gut. ‘Do you know what people in the village are saying? They know all about your past. How your husband beat you senseless. You should talk to me, put your side over. People love to hear a real-life story especially when it’s embroiled in the case of the coffin killer. Talk to me, DI Harte. I can help you.’
It wasn’t Briggs who sent the letter. Somehow, everyone seemed to know her business, her secrets. She almost let out a small cry as she thought of them all finding out her big secret. Maybe she was safe in the knowledge that the circumstances surrounding Terry’s death were undiscovered, as Lyndsey wouldn’t have been able to hold back on reporting that if she knew.
The press had left several messages on her mobile, and her office phone had rung constantly. They all wanted to know the same thing. Why hadn’t they made any arrests? Was the coffin killer slipping through their fingers? Would the coffin killer strike again? The coffin killer – that’s the name they’d settled on. Did her past have anything to do with the coffin killer choosing her?
Another snaking lane led to yet another as she got deeper into the heart of her rural village setting. On a clearer day she’d see her house in the distance, but not in the dark. As she trundled around a bend, taking it slowly, she saw a car in a verge, the glint of her own headlights on its bonnet, catching her eye. There was movement in the darkness. She pulled up on the opposite side of the road, grabbed her phone and got out of the car. No signal. She walked a little further and held it up. One bar.
‘Hello.’
A voice came from the side of the car. ‘My baby, please help my baby. I’m hurt but I’m okay. It’s just my ankle, I can’t walk. Please tell me my baby is okay.’
‘Police, I’m checking in your car now. Stay still in case you’ve broken anything.’ She checked her phone again but the signal had gone again.
The baby seat was empty and the changing bag had opened out everywhere. Milk splattered the back seat and the interior light was out. She felt around for anything and not a cry or breath could be heard. Panic rose in her chest. No, not tonight. She couldn’t find a dead baby, she just couldn’t. She grabbed her phone, using it to light up the car. Her gaze caught the rear-view mirror then her stomach sunk. There was no baby. She pressed a number, any number on her phone and it made a connection. As she turned to defend herself from the person whose face was half-covered by the black hood, something struck her hard.
The last thing she heard was Briggs’s voice. ‘Hello… Gina. Are you there?’ Then her fuzzy vision lost the last bit of light, the stars in the sky were gone. She felt a prick in her neck. Sinking… she was sinking into uselessness. She tried to force her eyelids open but the sheer pain of the blow to her head and… the drug? Woozy, this was more than a blow to the head.
Chapter Fifty
DI Harte, this should help you remember. I need you to remember how it felt…
I hit the clapper-less bell with my gloved knuckle; it’s ready for its intended. The dull clunk brings a tear to my eye. Every bone in my body aches. I press on my arm: yes, yes the bruises are still there. Even though they come of their own accord, it’s still hard steering a wobbly body into a coffin. They still fight me with the little bit they have left to fight with. The exhaustion I feel is unreal. My face is flushed even though a frost has formed over the past couple of hours. I’ve never worked so hard but the work has only just begun for phase three.
One more to go then my work is done. The aggressor and the bystander have gone. The only one left is the instigator.You were more than just the instigator but that is what I remember you for. I thought you were my friend.Hurrying back to my car, I easily drive it out of the ditch. It was never as bad as it looked from the road but DI Harte, the hero, had to stop and check. She’d never forgive herself if she’d driven by without checking that everyone in the car was okay. I stare at the matchbox and three matches that sit on the passenger seat. This is it. After this one, I’m out, gone. I won’t be here to bear the consequences of everything I’ve done. My departure is all planned and I won’t be coming back. I’m going to fly and be free to not have to relive another nightmare.
DI Harte, she only wanted to save the baby and I tricked her. It was so easy, knowing her the way I do, and I didn’t have to wait around too long, thankfully. She wants to help, always helping people. Always catching the bad ones. She’s a hero but I know her pain and now she knows mine – every last bit of it. Then again, she already knew, a little reminder was all she needed, and I sure gave her that tonight.I am you, Gina, and you are me. We are one and the same, I just need you to see that.
Fight, DI Harte. You didn’t that last time, when Terry locked you away. You gave up like a little mouse. Now that mouse must become a lion.
I imagine her tear-soaked face.DI Harte, do you still choose to be a victim? I decided to no longer be a victim and you must do the same. I’ve prepared you for this moment.You’re ready, Harte. Time to fight.A tear rolls down my cheek. In another life we could have been a lot closer.
I pack the clapper and matches in my bag and carefully place them next to the syringe. I’m all prepared and ready to go. Final phase, here I come.
I’ve done all my watching.
I’m more than done with waiting.
Instigator – I am coming for you.
Chapter Fifty-One
