Nothing but Meat: A dark, heart-stopping British crime thriller (15 page)

Jung knew she was lying and Simone could see it in his face
but he let it go. Simone tried to put the news to the back of her mind as they
made their way to the house.

Jung's knock received no answer so Simone tried calling but
the phone rang inside as if no one was home.

‘Could she have walked to work?’ Simone said, thinking out
loud.

Jung shrugged, ‘Where’s the nearest Starbucks?’ he said and
knocked loudly on the door again.

‘No idea. Miles away,’ Simone said and then called through
the letterbox, ‘Caroline, it’s PC Connelly. Are you home?’ Beyond the letterbox
Simone could see down the corridor and through to the rear of the house. ‘The
French doors are open round the back,’ she said.

Jung took her cue and led them towards the back garden.

‘This is wrong,’ he said to her quietly and she gave him a
look of agreement as they entered the rear of the house.

‘Stay alert,’ she whispered.

The house was small, boasting nothing more than a lounge,
kitchen and toilet downstairs and they checked each room quickly but carefully.

‘Miss Sheppard?’ Simone called out. ‘Are you home?’ They
stood in the silence and looked at each other until Simone whispered,
‘Upstairs.’

Jung nodded and took the stairs ahead of her, creeping slowly
upwards, filling the stairwell with his huge frame. When Jung stepped onto the
landing it creaked loudly in the silent house and they both paused and waited,
listening for something, anything.

They entered the upstairs corridor and Jung pushed open the
door of the first room they came to. It was the spare room and it seemed empty,
Jung stood by the doorframe, covering both the corridor and the room and
motioned for Simone to go in and quickly check the areas they couldn’t see. She
looked behind the door, the bed and a tall wardrobe and then she flung the
wardrobe open and stepped back in case someone was hiding inside, ready to
pounce. Nothing. She shook her head at Jung and they moved on to the next room.

They found Caroline Sheppard inside the master bedroom. She
was sitting at a dressing table with her back to the door as they entered. They
could see straight away that her hands were bound behind her back and her naked
arms were dark with blood.

‘Shit!’ said Jung and made to move towards her but Simone
stopped him by quickly grabbing his arm to get his attention. ‘Jung,’ she
whispered and shushed him, she mouthed silently, ‘We need to check the room!’ Jung
nodded back and pointed out the wardrobe and the en-suite.

‘I’ve got it covered,’ he said quietly. ‘You help her.’

As Simone approached Caroline, she stayed alert and continued
to look around the room for signs of movement. She pulled her mobile from her
pocket, hit the speed dial and called for backup.

She pressed her fingers into Caroline’s neck. Searching for a
pulse but couldn’t be sure if she could feel one or not, she took her fingers
away and pressed again. She could feel her own heart pounding in her chest and
couldn’t tell if what she felt was Caroline’s pulse or her own transmitting
into her fingertips.

Jung came back from the en-suite. ‘Nothing.’

‘Backup will be here in ten,’ she said.

‘I’m going to check the rest of the house. Keep an eye on the
door until I get back. Don’t let anyone creep up on you.’

‘I can’t find her pulse,’
she said, she was frustrated with herself for not being able to tell if it was simply
too late to help Caroline.

Jung touched Caroline’s
neck, paused and said, ‘She’s alive. Just. Stay with her and stay alert’

Simone acknowledged him with a grateful nod and turned her
attention back to Caroline.

Caroline was naked and her hands were bound behind her back with
nylon cable ties. Her flesh from head to toe had been slashed with a knife. Multiple
stab wounds and hundreds of cuts lacerated her entire body and the handle of
what looked to be a bread knife jutted from deep within her belly.

Caroline’s droopy eyelids fluttered when Simone lifted her
head gently from her chest to help clear her airway. When her head was upright
and her throat unobstructed she suddenly took a huge, wheezy intake of air and
exhaled wearily, causing bubbles of bloody spittle to pop and spray onto Simone’s
white shirt.

This sudden sign of life sent Simone into overdrive. ‘Caroline!
Stay with me!’ she said, and still holding Caroline’s head upright with one
hand, scrambled her other across the dressing table sending make-up and other
products clattering onto the floor until she found what she was looking for.
She took the nail scissors and snipped the cable ties from Caroline’s bloody
wrists and as soon as they were cut free from each other her arms fell limply
by her side. Simone gently lifted Caroline’s blue twisted hands and rested them
together in her lap. She wanted to lay Caroline on the bed, to make her more
comfortable but knew there was no way to move her with a knife sticking from
her stomach. Simone stood behind Caroline and supported her head by holding her
gently under the chin and cradling her into her hip. Simone shushed her softly
and told her to hang on, to stay with her over and over again. She could hear
Caroline breathing with a slow quiet rattle and she coughed blood again. Simone
felt it drool over her hands and seep through her dark trousers onto her skin.

‘There’s no one else here,’ said Jung as he came back into
the room. ‘The rest of the house is empty.’ He pulled the top sheet from the
bed and laid it over Caroline’s lap. ‘How’s she doing?’ he said.

‘She’s going to be okay,’ Simone replied confidently for
Caroline’s benefit but at the same time silently shook her head.

‘I’m going to make some calls,’ he said. ‘Find out where the
ambulance is. Hang in there Caroline.’

Simone stood alone, cradling a dying woman against her hip;
she watched the patches of blood bloom like spring flowers through the pale
green sheet that draped over her legs and somewhere in the distance sirens
whined. ‘Help is on the way Caroline,’ she said. ‘Not long now.’

Caroline’s breathing became slower, weaker and Simone sensed
she was slipping away so she lifted one of Caroline’s cold hands from her lap
and held it in her own. She said, ‘Caroline, if you can hear me and if you can
manage it, will you squeeze my hand.’ Simone felt a weak pressure against her fingers.
‘Okay, that’s good. Do you know the person who did this to you?’ she said. ‘Squeeze
my hand again if you know who did it.’ Again she felt a weak pressure. ‘Listen
to the sirens Caroline they’re right outside, they’ll be here soon. Tell me,
does Gary know him too?’

Yes

‘Okay, you’re doing great. One more question. Is he connected
to The Shelter?’

Caroline’s breathing stopped as the ambulance pulled up
outside and Jung came into the room.

‘They’re here,’ he said.

Simone repeated the question, ‘Is he connected to The Shelter
Caroline?’

She felt pressure against her fingers but it was so weak she
couldn’t know if it was involuntary. She asked again as the paramedics rushed
the room in a blur of orange and white. ‘Caroline, is he connected to The Shelter?’

Just before the paramedics burst into the room and moved her aside
Caroline squeezed Simone’s hand as hard as she could.

Yes!

‘I’m taking you home,’ said Jung.

Simone mumbled unintelligible words just for the sake of
making a sound in the guise of reply. ‘I need to…’

‘You need to get cleaned up.’ He took his eyes from the road
as he drove and looked at her hands. Simone broke her thousand-yard stare and
followed his gaze. The paramedics had provided facilities for her to clean up,
but still dried blood crusted her nails and shirt.

She was trying to process the day’s events. A woman had died
in her arms and the father of a man she deeply cared about had died too. She
felt like she was betraying Caroline Sheppard if she dedicated thoughts and
feelings to anything other than the investigation into who had attacked her but
she couldn’t help but think about West and his grief.

‘You need to take the afternoon off,’ he said.

‘I can’t do that.’

‘That was traumatic enough,’ he said, ‘but I can tell you
have more going on than just the job.’

She looked at him quizzically and he elaborated. ‘The phone
call earlier, before we went into the house threw you off-guard. I saw it, I
saw you change in front of my eyes. You’re a strong person but you lost something
earlier and you need time. So let me cover for you back at the station and let
you have the afternoon to yourself.’

She had only worked with him for the morning and in that time
he had done nothing but amaze her and as she had suspected only a few hours
before, he had unknowingly proven himself to be a solid, trustworthy colleague
and she already felt secure in his presence.

The car slowed to a stop outside her home and she unbuckled
her seatbelt. He said, ‘Do you mind if I grab a glass of water before I head
back to the station?’

‘Of course.’

Jung followed her into the kitchen and stood quietly as Simone
poured two large glasses of water and handed one to him. He took it and drained
it in one long draft before she had even taken a sip. ‘Thanks, I needed that,’
he said as he put his glass on the breakfast bar and ran the back of his hand
across his brow.

‘Do you want another?’ she offered.

‘No, that hit the spot just fine. This heat is becoming
unbearable.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘At least we get a slight reprieve this afternoon,’ he said
and could see from her blank expression that she didn’t understand so he
elaborated. ‘The eclipse?’ he said.

‘Is that today?’ she said. ‘I completely forgot about it.’

‘I’m a bit of a space geek,’ he said but Simone didn’t know
what to say, she wanted to be polite but her mind was still in a state of shock
and confusion and she was in no position to hold any kind of conversation so
she just asked him again if he wanted another drink.

He refused for the second time and said, ‘I’m going to head
back to the station. I’ll see myself out; you just get yourself cleaned up and
take it easy.’

‘Okay. Thanks Jung.’

He headed to the front door and said ‘See you tomorrow,’ before
letting himself out.

Simone stood in the utility room and robotically stripped the
stained cotton from her body. She put her clothes directly into the washing
machine and then went upstairs and scrubbed herself clean under a cool shower.

The Origin of the Tooth:

The woods never ceased to be exciting and as he explored them
alone his stomach fluttered with nervous adrenaline and his testicles tingled
with the anticipation of what he might find. He had his knife and he looked for
things to kill. He set traps and visited them regularly; often finding small
rodents incarcerated within. He would only release them from the trap after he
had jabbed at them with his knife enough times to render them unable to bite
him or scurry off. He liked to corner them and cut bits from their furry little
bodies; he would take their legs, noses and tails before finally stabbing or
stamping them to death. He also had his death rock; a large flat stone too
heavy to move that made the perfect place to dissect the corpse or flatten it
with a heavy boulder.

He pushed through the foliage lost in his imagination and the
silence of solitude.

In the woods there was nothing except for the calming whisper
of leaves and the gentle creaking of branches but in his mind thoughts of
terrible red violence exploded.

He imagined tying his classmates to the trees and stabbing
them to death one by one, the thoughts of their screams echoing though the
wilderness satisfied him.

The day that changed everything was the day he found his
perfect treasure and the memory of her would stay with him for the rest of his
life.

He found her bra first and it was red. He spotted it
immediately amongst the undergrowth and as he picked it from the ground his
first thoughts were that he had found one of the places where people go to have
sex. The bra was filthy from the elements and he ran his fingers over the red
lacy skirting of material and wondered if it belonged to one of the girls from
school. Then he saw a bunched-up pair of black tights camouflaged against the
scrub and when he untangled them it gave him the thrill of a lifetime to find,
screwed up inside them, a pair of matching red panties.

The discarded underwear wasn’t all he found; it acted as
trail to her corpse and when he stumbled upon her he gasped softly and looked
around to make sure they were alone.

She was naked; her body had been positioned face up, legs out
straight with arms neatly by her side. She stared blankly into the canopy above
with eyes open and grey. He stood over her with her bra in one hand, tights and
panties in the other, and looked at her. She was young, older than he but still
no more than a teenager. Her hair matched her underwear, it was dyed red, not
fashion red but an unnatural, flaming burgundy and he noted from her pubic hair
that she was naturally fair-haired. Her nose and belly button were pierced and
he guessed she was a student from the local art college.

With tentative steps he moved closer and it was as if she was
waiting for him like a lover finally ready to lose her virginity. He knelt down
next to her, wanting to touch her but not daring, fearing physical contact
would break the spell she cast over him. His heart pounded in his chest and his
mind whirled with possibilities. She was his and he could do anything he liked
with her but he wasn’t stupid, and no matter how desperate his desires, he was
well aware that he could leave traces of himself upon her and eventually have
to explain how they got there, maybe even get accused for her murder and if
that happened it would be a short leap for the investigators to tie him to the
murder of Peterson’s mother. He closed his eyes and smelt the gusset of her
underwear; thankful her scent was still there, hidden but still distinctive
behind the earthy dampness of vegetation. He leant over to smell her hair and
as he did so he caught a glimpse of his reflection in her dead, doll-like eyes.
He looked at himself in the broken mirrors of her corneas not realising until
that moment how different the eyes of the dead are to that of the living. At
one time, not so long ago his reflection would have been clear and defined within
the crystalline lens but it was now lost to death and he saw only a hollow,
echoing likeness of himself in the dried and static tissue. Was this likeness
he saw reflected in the eyes of the dead his true self revealed?

With the most gentle of touches he ran a finger over her cold
blue lips; the sensation of texture and the coolness of her flesh made him gasp
softly. Her tongue was swollen and purple between her teeth. He couldn’t hold
back any longer, he spread his fingers and stroked her cheeks, and with the
lightest of touches traced the contours of her face down to her bruised throat
where he noticed for the first time clear indications that she had been
strangled, but the thought was quickly brushed to one side by the distraction
of touching her breasts. He moved his fingertips between them first and then
slid them over the skin of her rib cage and felt the contours of bone
underneath. He wondered how she would look without skin and then he touched her
nipples as he felt breasts for the first time.

He spent the afternoon exploring the landscape of her body
with his fingers; he stroked her belly, her hips and her thighs with the
feather light touch of the gentlest lover. He held her feet and touched between
her toes. He reached between her legs and spread them apart and touched there
too.

When he masturbated he stood over her and was especially
careful not to spill a drop for fear of leaving evidence at the crime scene. He
ejaculated into the palm of his hand and sucked it into his mouth. When he
swallowed a surge of power washed over him and he felt stronger somehow, as if
he was recycling lost energy.

Afterwards, when the light had begun to fade and he
reluctantly accepted he would have to leave, he removed his T-shirt and wiped
where he had touched her, and then he positioned her as he found her and
covered her with leaves and branches in the desperate hope that she would
remain undiscovered. He wished he could take her home with him and tried to
think of a way to make it possible but of course it wasn’t, and although it
pained him he acknowledged that he would have to leave her in the woods.

He drove himself crazy thinking about her while in class at
school. Her ghost was in every thought, a constant floating apparition and when
people spoke to him their lips appeared to flap randomly and their words were
little more than gibberish. He looked beyond the teachers fronting the class
and to the clock on the wall behind them. The day ticked by slowly as he
obsessed about going back to her.

Over the following days she began to change. He had to brush
soil and insects away at the beginning of every visit and her skin quickly
changed from fleshy pale white to a loose grey-green colour that gave little
resistance when he pressed it. His reflection had faded further in her milky
eyes and her scent had become increasingly sour with each visit. Her tongue was
now a deep black and appeared more pronounced because her lips had curled
tightly back. He touched her tongue with his own and had to pick grit from his
mouth afterwards. She was leaving him but her departure was fascinating. Her
gums had receded in her beautiful mouth and her teeth gave slightly when he
touched them. It took time but he managed to prize her two front incisors free.
They came away with little bits of gum still attached and somehow that made
them more special. He was disappointed to have spoiled her looks and tried to
close her mouth in an attempt to keep her beautiful but her tongue was too
swollen and her lips too drawn to allow her jaw to close, but it didn’t matter
because she still meant everything to him and after he masturbated he curled up
beside her and held her in his arms.

Into the woods he went for what would be the final time. He
strolled with purpose, practically floating on air, nothing but a teenager in
love and now he had learned her name she was even more complete to him. He had
paid attention to the local news, not because he cared if anyone was looking
for her or whether she would be found and laid to rest but because he was intrigued
to find out more about her. She had been reported missing a few days previously
and her disappearance had finally made the news; his heart flipped a somersault
at the sight of her face on the screen and the details of her life were
revealed. He grinned like a loon when he heard he had been right about
Angela Baily
being a student at the local art college and it confirmed
his suspicions that what they had was truly special. ‘Angela,’ he said. ‘My
angel.’ He whispered it over and over as he made his way through the woods
getting closer and closer to her after a long day at school. He was already
aroused and as he walked he touched the teeth that rested in his pocket.

As he grew closer he soon realised things weren’t right, he
noticed disturbances in the way the leaves fell and broken branches along the
trail told him others had been this way. He quickened his pace and began to
sweat with panic, as his greatest fear became reality. She was gone; they had
taken her away. She had finally left him forever.

A snapped piece of blue and white crime scene tape was tied
around a tree trunk, its stretched tail fluttered in the breeze. Someone must
have found her and reported it to the police who had come en masse with their
cameras and their tape measures. He was furious and heartbroken at the
discovery but self-preservation kicked in and he knew he had to leave the area
immediately; if someone saw him he could be arrested. His fingers squeezed the
teeth in his pocket as he walked away; two little pieces of evidence that
linked him to the murder of a young woman. He had an urge to drop them but he
couldn’t bring himself to do it. He considered burying them and coming back for
them later but he didn’t want to risk losing them so he decided to take the
gamble and keep them in his pocket. He knew this could be his downfall so he
was ready to swallow them if anyone approached him. Better that than lose them
forever. No one was taking them from him. He wished he had more with which to
remember her by and cursed himself for not taking photographs but the thought
had never crossed his mind, not least because he didn’t own a Polaroid camera
nor did he know anyone who did but the knowledge that all he had left of her
were memories made him regretful.

The boy walked slowly and
aimlessly, distraught at the thought of never seeing her again when he heard
the tell-tale sound of footsteps and disturbing foliage and he realised he
wasn’t alone in the woods. He paused and waited silently, watching and
listening, someone was close and coming his way. He squeezed the teeth in his
pocket and was on the brink of popping them in his mouth when a tall, strong
looking man pushed through the low hanging branches and appeared in front of
him. The man looked up and stopped when he saw the boy. They stood face to face
in the quiet of the wood and looked each other up and down. The boy considered
running away and was about to turn on his heels when the man broke the silence.
‘Hello
Bärli,’
he said in a strange
foreign accent and paused for a time, just staring at the boy.
‘Out for a walk
? Or maybe just exploring?’

The boy didn’t know what
to say so choose not to say anything.

The man looked up into
the trees and breathed deeply through his nose, sucking the sweet leafy air
into his lungs with a peaceful, satisfied look on his face. ‘Either way, you
picked a beautiful day for it, a really beautiful day.’

The man plucked a leaf
from a nearby branch and began to pull it apart with his thick fingers. ‘So?’

‘What?’ said the boy, the
word came like a squeak and even though he tried to be calm, the nerves showed
when his voice betrayed him. The man looked quite ordinary; he wore thin, steel
rimmed glasses and a plain t-shirt and jeans but still the boy nervously
fondled the teeth in his pocket and couldn’t help wondering if the man was with
the police.

‘So, what are you doing
out here
Bärli
?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Why do you keep calling
me that?’ said the boy.

The man shrugged. ‘What’s
your name?’

The boy hesitated,
obviously reluctant to say.

‘That’s okay,’ said the
man. ‘You don’t have to tell me. It’s probably better that way.’

‘What’s that accent you
have?

‘You tell me.’

‘It sounds…’

‘What?’

‘German?’

The man smiled. ‘German.
Correct. Very good
Bärli
.’

‘What does it mean? That
word you keep calling me, what does it mean?’

‘
Bärli
?’

The boy nodded.

‘It means little bear.’

‘Little bear,’ he
repeated, somewhat disappointed at its meaning.

‘You don’t like it?’

‘What?’

‘Being called Little
Bear?’

The boy shrugged.

‘That’s okay,’ said the
man. ‘Just remember, even Grizzly’s start out small.’ The boy understood and
the man continued, ‘You’ve been here before
Bärli
,’
he said. ‘I know, because I’ve seen you.’

‘When?’

‘It doesn’t matter when.
What matters, is that they’ve found her and you need to leave. As do I. It was
nice to meet you
Bärli.
’ He turned from
the boy.