Read Keeping Online

Authors: Sarah Masters

Tags: #Erotic Romance Fiction

Keeping (3 page)

BOOK: Keeping
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Villier faced the others. “Let’s go through what we have.”

I was just about to do that after the question-and-answer session. Christ.

She continued, strutting back and forth, her black trousers rustling with each step. “We know he abducts them from the field opposite Morrison’s supermarket. As Langham said, having our men at the stream each night isn’t going to work. The same goes for having them either at the abduction field, the forest behind it, or inside the supermarket. The killer will know by now that he’ll possibly be spotted. He has to take more care—and he will. I’m going to propose something and, while I know none of you would want this, and I appreciate your concern, I really do, I can’t sit idly by and wait for another woman’s body to turn up. I joined the force because…”

Fuck. Here we go…

Langham watched her show, half-listened to how she wanted to rid London of criminals, and while she couldn’t do that by herself she’d give it a damn good try. Her father had been a copper, her grandfather before that, blah-de-fucking-blah. About to step in and stop her diatribe, Langham was brought up short by her strident voice cutting into his thoughts.

“…as bait.” She slammed her hands onto her hips and eyed everyone, then her gaze finally fell on Langham.

“What?” he managed. He hadn’t expected that. Yes, she was dedicated—more dedicated than most of the people there—but to offer herself up like that? No fucking way. It hadn’t come to that. Not yet.

“I’ll be one of the women. A dog walker. I’ll go every evening at the same time. Walk the field’s perimeter and see if I spot anyone suspicious. I mean, we should have done this ages ago. I did say, but no one listened.” She huffed out a breath. “Or, they listened but didn’t agree to it.”

She was getting at him, he knew that—he’d obviously tuned her out when she’d suggested it before—but his hands were tied anyway from those above him. Sending her out there wouldn’t just be sending her out. Other officers would have to be involved, watching her as she walked, and sparing so many men every night… They had no solid idea of when the next victim was likely to be abducted, so her idea just wasn’t viable.

He explained that to her.

She narrowed her eyes. “Just as I thought. Silly of me to suggest such a thing.”

Langham smiled, going for genuine but thinking he’d missed it by a bloody long shot. “Besides, you’re blonde.”

She frowned, shaking her head as though he was the dumbest motherfucker she’d seen in a long time.

“He hasn’t taken a blonde.” Langham gestured to the pictures on the board. “All brunettes, all blue-eyed. A brown-eyed blonde wouldn’t pique his interest.”

Villier’s cheeks flushed. She’d never admit to not seeing that obvious fact—or having not been listening when he’d pointed it out a few weeks ago. She sighed. “Uh, hello? Wigs? Contact lenses? Heard of them?”

Her tone and attitude got on his last fucking nerve. Sod going gently on her now. “While I appreciate your input, in future you’re better off giving it from your seat, like everyone else does. Also, as the
leading detective
in this case, I get to decide whether we take such a drastic step. As for hearing about wigs and contact lenses? Yes, I tend to wear them on the nights I go out in drag, I thought you knew that, seeing as it’s never been a secret I’m a raging bender.”

Rumbles of laughter. A whoop.

“Now,
Sergeant
Villier, please return to your seat and I’ll write your suggestion on the board. We may,
may
discuss it at a later date, but at the moment it’s a no-go.”

She stared at him, cheeks getting redder, then turned away and made a dignified walk back to her chair. He’d been a bastard to her, showing her up like that in front of everyone, but fuck, she pushed his buttons and his reprimand had been a long time coming. He didn’t want to have to tell his boss about her, but if she continued like this he’d have to.

He decided to change the subject. “The newspapers. While we can’t control everything that gets printed, we can minimize the damage. So far the local papers have done as we’ve asked and kept the news on the women low profile. Unfortunately a couple of nationals picked up on it, but they haven’t sensationalized it as they usually would. Thankfully it seems no one from the big guys has joined the dots just yet and realized these cases are linked.” He sighed, long and heavy. “But, as we all know, it won’t be long, and this will be because the killer will be hacked the fuck off that he isn’t making full-frontal, national news. Yes, he’s made the front page, but with an ego the size of a damn house, he’s going to want more. And that means he’ll up his game. Do something more shocking.”

“What can be more shocking than what he’s already done?” a male uniform asked. “I mean, he’s abducting and killing women, for Christ’s sake!”

“Ah.” Langham said. “Higgings, isn’t it?”

The officer nodded.

“New, aren’t you,” Langham said. “I don’t want to sound condescending, but you haven’t seen anything yet. What this man is doing is terrible, yes, but so far the bodies have only been wrecked by the stream. Imagine if they’d been wrecked by him as well.” He pressed on, wanting to put his meaning across so this wet-behind-the-ears kid would get the bloody drift pretty damn quick. “What if he stabbed them? Sliced their skin to ribbons so when we found them—minus great chunks of flesh after the foxes and local wildlife have been at them, of course—they didn’t look like women at all? What if you had to go to a scene and stand there looking down at such a sight, holding back the puke as it threatened to come up and contaminate the scene? What if he carved into their faces, gouged out their eyes. You getting the picture here, son?”

Higgings’ face was pale, the tips of his ears red.

“Good. So, back to the newspapers. What I’ve described to Higgings may well start happening. Who knows what goes on in a killer’s head. Something might tip him over the edge so he deviates from what is the norm to him, which is drugging them into unconsciousness and placing them face-first in the stream and watching them drown in their sleep. There
has
to be a reason he does this, and sadly, it won’t become clear until he’s caught and he chooses to tell us. Which he will if he’s the type we think he is and wants attention. So, I’ll need whoever has the newspapers on their list to telephone them again and make sure any future stories remain small.”

“Won’t that encourage him to go out of control?” Wickes asked.

“It’s possible, but the least amount of panic generated for the local women the better. And yes, I’m well aware not making a big fuss potentially puts women in more danger, but I’m following orders myself and passing them down to you.”

Langham gave Villier a direct stare then shifted his gaze to check he hadn’t frightened the life out of Higgings. The kid—must be twenty if he was a day—was chewing the inside of his lip and bouncing one foot on the floor. He appeared as though he needed to get out, get some fresh air. Langham knew all about
that.

“Right. Those reviewing the morgue files, review them again. Those going through the witness statements, go through them again. Those doing whatever you’re doing on this case, go through it again. I want this motherfucker caught. Sooner rather than later, got it?”

Chapter Two

David gained perverse pleasure in sitting with Conrad, knowing where the Morrison’s woman was when Conrad didn’t. Of course, David sat there making all the right noises, offering all the right reasons why she might not be there serving them this morning, but Conrad was more upset than David had thought he would be. What David
hadn’t
bargained for was the bloke really did like Cheryl, wanted her for more than a bit of fun in the sack. He seemed overly upset by her absence today.

How had David missed that? Had he been so intent on snaring her for his own reasons that he hadn’t fully realized how much Conrad wanted to secure a date with her? Then again, David had walked out of the café, hadn’t he, pissed off and seeing red, and when Conrad had been speaking to him prior to that, he hadn’t particularly been listening. Oh, he’d heard him, but he hadn’t taken it all in
properly
. He needed to watch himself for that kind of thing in the future. He could miss important info that might change the course of things if he didn’t watch out.

“She told me she’d meet me, David, go on a date with me. Can you believe that?”

No, he couldn’t, didn’t understand why she’d prefer Conrad over him. He took a deep breath. Plonked on a fake smile. “Wow, how cool is that?”

“Not very. She didn’t turn up. At first I reckoned it was because I’d forgotten to give her my number, but I thought back and
know
she took it. I’d written it on a napkin, remember doing it.” He shoved a hand through his bugging, bouncy fringe. “Then I thought she’d tossed it away, didn’t have any intention of meeting me at all, especially when I called her and her phone went straight to voicemail. But now she isn’t here either… Something isn’t right, is it?”

“No idea,” David said. “Last time I heard anything you were going to ask her out. I haven’t been here since to know how long she’s been gone.” He wanted to laugh. Really laugh.

“It’s been two days, mate. Two bloody days. And where were you yesterday, anyway? I waited here for you but you didn’t bloody show.” Conrad stabbed at a sausage on his plate.

David decided it might be a good idea to ignore Conrad’s questions. “Oh, well, she might just be ill then. Two days is nothing, right? It isn’t unheard of, you know. People get sick, switch off their phones. Christ, you ought to calm down.” David rammed a bacon rasher into his mouth and chewed, enjoying what he privately called the ‘piggy’ flavor.

“David, I asked her co-worker. That old dear over there who always gives us lukewarm tea. Cheryl didn’t call in sick. No one here has heard from her.” Conrad sighed, glancing around the café as though Cheryl would appear at any moment, out of breath, late for her shift, full of apologies that she hadn’t met him.

“I’d say she might have switched shifts—you know she only works early mornings and late afternoons here, doing a stint at the newspaper in between, you told me earlier you’d found that out—but if she hasn’t called in…” David shrugged. “Maybe she just got pissed off with working two jobs. Who fucking knows?”

Conrad sat up straighter. “The newspaper. You reckon I should go there, see if they’ve seen her?”

David frowned, rolling his eyes as though he thought Conrad was going too far. “Oh, come on! Don’t you think that would look a bit weird? A bit stalkerish?”

Now he thought about it, Conrad going to the newspaper might be just the thing David needed. Conrad turning up, saying he was meant to have been meeting her, and him ringing her as often as he had, might raise red flags. The editor might think him one of those nutters who involved themselves with their crimes, trying to help solve it when all along they were diverting the police elsewhere.

“On second thought,” David said, “you go to the newspaper. Great idea. Go and check, and if she isn’t there or hasn’t been since you last saw her, then I’d say there was something to worry about. Maybe they’re shrugging her absence off like this lot are—that she just didn’t turn up. Maybe no one knows she’s actually missing.” David stressed that last word and waited for Conrad to freak the fuck out.

Conrad paled. His hand holding his fork shook, and the sausage wiggled along with it. “Oh my God. What if she’s one of those women?”

David scooped some baked beans onto his fork. “What women?” He knew full well what bloody women, just wanted Conrad to talk about them. About him. He put the beans in his mouth and swallowed without chewing. Pointless chewing beans.

“You know, the ones found in the river. What if that weirdo took her?” Two spots of pink appeared on Conrad’s cheekbones. His mouth quivered.

Jesus H, he’s gone and got himself well and truly attached to her.

“I doubt it! Wasn’t she ultra-careful? I remember her saying to a customer once that she had a big dog, never went out alone without it. No way would someone be able to take her without being bitten.”
Liar. That dog was soft as shit and the knife went into his belly nice and easy.

Conrad pointed his still-sausage-laden fork in David’s direction. “Good point. I’m just being silly, aren’t I?”

Most definitely not, tosser.
“Maybe a bit. But I understand where you’re coming from. Just didn’t realize you liked her enough to be bothered if she never met you for a date, that’s all.”

“What? Don’t piss about! I talked about her
all
the time. I thought you knew.”

David shook his head. “Uh, no, wasn’t that obvious to me, but then again, I can be a bit slow on the uptake.” Best to let him think he was dim, that he wouldn’t have the nous to be That Weirdo.

David was tempted to do just what he hoped Conrad would actually do—involve himself with Cheryl’s disappearance, find out what was going on from the other side—but quickly decided against it. He preferred guessing what Langham would do next—if anything—and congratulating himself when he’d guessed right, had predicted the detective’s moves. This time, though, he was treading on more rocky ground. Yeah, the others had been missed by loved ones, but this one, well, Langham’s fella knew Cheryl and they would possibly push that little bit harder to find her. He’d done his research before taking her. The thing was, Cheryl actually wasn’t so bad, nice company when she wasn’t sleeping, and he wouldn’t mind keeping her for longer. That might be dangerous, though. They might discover where she was then it would be game over, his personal journey cut off before it had even properly begun.

Conrad sipped his tea from a white cup, the kind found in cafés that held the equivalent of half a cup of a normal brew. Two or three gulps and the bloody stuff was gone, which was why they always shared a pot. David reached out to pour himself a fresh one, surreptitiously watching Conrad as he stared out of the window at the numerous rows of parked cars. David would feel sorry for him if he could be bothered, but Conrad was such a bore, such a cunt, that he couldn’t muster up the energy. He’d enjoy being the one Conrad turned to when Cheryl was found. The man would be cut up, he’d bet, sniveling into his cooked breakfast or his lukewarm tea.

BOOK: Keeping
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