Page 21 of Her Lips Are Sealed

Donna smiled at her. ‘Me either, I feel as if my brain has detached itself from my body.’

Donna stood up and Morgan took her arm to help her out of the van. ‘Where’s your car?’

Pam pointed to a small blue Mini parked behind the van.

‘That’s good, get Donna home. I’ll arrange for a family liaison officer to come to your house, Donna, they are so good, please let them help you.’

Donna nodded. ‘Thank you, you’re very kind.’

Morgan smiled at her. ‘You’re welcome, I wish we weren’t meeting this way. I am so sorry for your loss.’

‘You’ll catch them though, won’t you? You’ll find them and lock them up, because if you don’t and I find them first I’ll kill them myself, I have nothing left to live for.’

‘I promise you, I won’t stop until I have them in custody.’ How many times had she made this promise in the last twenty-four hours? Too many for one woman to convince so many grieving people she would be able to do this. She hoped for Donna’s sake she believed her because Morgan was feeling so drained she didn’t know if she believed herself.

Donna nodded. ‘I think I believe you too.’

FOURTEEN

Suited and booted, Morgan stepped inside the small cottage. She had watched Donna be driven away before she’d even attempted to put the protective clothing on, feeling she wanted to shield the woman from any further horror after seeing her daughter like she had. She tucked her double gloved hands into her pockets. The entrance was narrow and she didn’t want to risk touching anything. Ben was standing outside the door to what she assumed was the kitchen. He stepped away so she could take his place, and she couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped her throat.

‘Dear God, why?’

For some reason this seemed so much worse than Rachel’s crime scene even though they were almost identical on first impression. Ash’s eyes were staring at the ceiling, deep red grooves around her neck where her tights had been used to strangle her. It was the lips; they were the same garish red colour as Rachel’s.

‘She’s been dead longer than Rachel.’ Ben’s statement was simple.

Morgan couldn’t take her eyes away from the waxy, yellow tone of Ash’s stomach and arms that were turning the marbled green colour of decomposition. Dressed in only her underwear, a mismatched pair of full black knickers, the exact kind Morgan preferred wearing to work for comfort, and a wireless, peacock blue bralette. One hand was curled into a tight fist, the other lay across her stomach. She resembled something you would see exhibited at Madame Tussauds.

‘I can’t,’ Morgan whispered and rushed outside for some fresh air. She leaned against the wall greedily sucking air into her lungs to quell the bile that had burned all the way up her throat. The thought that the woman had been in her own home, relaxing, when someone had the audacity to come inside and do that to her was too much. What kind of monster were they dealing with?

‘Are you okay?’ Ben whispered in her ear, making her feet almost clear the pavement.

‘No, are you?’

He shook his head. ‘What the hell is going on, Morgan? I don’t get it.’

‘Me either, again there is no sign of forced entry, the door was locked from the inside. Whoever this person is they either knew both Rachel and Ash or they trusted them enough to let them inside.’

Morgan felt chilled to the bone because the only strangers she could think of those two women, living on their own, letting inside of their homes would be someone dressed in a uniform, like a cop. She kept this observation to herself for the time being.

‘We need to figure out if the women knew each other or were in the same work, friendship circle, and fast. Did you see a note?’

Their heads were bent close together as they whispered to each other.

‘Haven’t looked, I figured I’d let you take charge of that one, if you’re up to it that is.’

‘I am, I’m okay I just needed a minute, this is just so wrong. They were at home, in their safe place, relaxed, ready for bed or just chilling. Who the hell did they let into their homes? There must be a connection somewhere. Whoever is doing this, they are confident enough to think they can get away with it, two women in the space of twenty-four hours.’

‘I think she may have been killed first, as the decomposition looks older than Rachel’s did, if you get what I mean. Declan will be able to confirm who died first but…’

‘But if she died first who was the letter at Rachel’s referring to?’

Ben grimaced. ‘This a fucking nightmare.’

Morgan couldn’t disagree and nodded. ‘I’ll go have a look for a note.’

She went back into the house. There was a narrow staircase that she climbed to take a look in the bedrooms. She saw a tiny box room with a desk and bookshelves, and no room for a bed. On the desk was a fancy pink iMac that almost filled the entire desk. This wasn’t a burglary gone wrong – a thief would have taken it. Stepping inside she scanned the room; nothing was out of place. She studied the huge cream noticeboard that was filled with Post-it notes, pictures of Ash and her cat, with friends, several pictures of Louis Vuitton bags and of New York. She realised that this was Ash’s vision board and the crushing feeling inside of her chest was almost suffocating as she whispered, ‘I hope you got to New York and bought the bag, Ash, you deserved it so much.’