A Subtle Kind of Darkness.

A Subtle Kind Of Darkness.

Prologue.

The eye continues to stare. That is what finally freaks him out. Both are greenish-brown, the right one more hazel… like a cat he thinks. It looks like she is winking at him and the anger rises. Momentarily he shuts his own eyes and sees the red of blood behind closed lids.
They played this game as children. Staring into the sunlight or on dark days at bare light-bulbs until images of green, purple, gold and red danced there. How she loved that game – the feeling of power that came when both held their breath to the edge of consciousness.
Once they had even played at the extreme edge, her little hands fluttering in gestures of defiance. Go on, she said, I dare you... Squeeze harder, as the scarf tightened round her neck. He always backed down and she laughed, the sound of bees buzzing on a warm day. ‘More,’ she says and he sweats in the heat and fear. Once she had touched him as the scarf bit deeper and his head was dizzy with strange sensations. After that he had to be more careful, protect her. Yet in the end it wasn’t enough, his vigilance slipped and they had her, the night demons.

***

Paul and Cathy ran laughing into the woods, Paul checked round before they entered the trees to make sure there was no one coming, although at this time of a Monday morning few people would be about.
Cathy tugged on his arm, she was very eager to get started. The early morning sunlight was patchy under the trees and the warm breeze made the leaves seem to whisper to each other. Cathy loved that sound she found it so erotic. She was in a high state of arousal and the sound only heightened it, she adored making love in the open, it was so exiting. They soon came to a patch of sun warmed grass under a large tree. Cathy pulled Paul into her arms and kissed him passionately. His hands embraced her back and worked their way down until they found the bottom of her T shirt and he slowly began to ease it upwards. They parted and Cathy grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head, Paul was going too slowly for her. There was a time for tender passion but right now she wanted it hard and fast. She had no bra on under her shirt and her nipples were rock hard both from her need and the breeze playing over them.
The rest of her clothes soon followed her shirt until she was standing naked in front of Paul. It didn’t take him long to follow suit. Cathy had laid on the soft grass and was running her hands lightly over her body as she watched Paul undress. He knelt between her legs and mounted her straightaway.
Cathy moaned as her excitement heightened and she turned her head to the side. She opened her eyes and her moan turned into a scream.
A face was staring back at her from under a bush, a white face… a lifeless face. It was not just the shock of seeing a face under the bush but the face had no eyes, empty eye sockets boring straight into her, looking straight into her soul. She screamed again and pushed Paul off her as she struggled to stand, now grabbing at her clothes as she backed away. Her passion now turned to tears and terror.
Paul stared at her for a moment and then looked to where she still had her gaze fixed. He raised the low branch and came face to face with that sightless gaze. The rest of the naked body could be seen now, pale and dirty it lay in repose as if the bush were her coffin. Paul dropped the branch and turned away as the contents of his stomach emptied themselves onto the lush grass.

* * * * *

Chapter 1.

Sandra Lockhart heard the phone ringing and came out of a confusing dream. She grabbed the phone and muttered her name into it. ‘It’s a stiff, Serge,’ she heard the voice of PC Turner and silently vowed she’d have him doing parking tickets for the next week.
‘Use the code, damn you, you’ll have half the hams around before you can say donuts. ‘ It was a cheap shot but she’d had enough of her all male team and their efforts to drag her down to their level. Knuckling sleep from her eyes she grabbed a pen and a cheap legal pad.
‘Okay, give, and for God’s sake use the codes.’
‘Ten four Serge. Code 19, called in by a courting couple. Just off route A24, Hampton Park. PL truck on route, backup Tango and Delta expected soon. Want a lift Serge?’
Damn him, he might as well have sent out open invitations to half the hams and reporters in the town. It took her two minutes tops to dress and pack her gear. In went the Vick, she had nothing to barf up but better safe than sorry. Pritchard would have coffee on the go by the time she got there. The August morning was mild but her Polo was slow to start.
‘Come on beast,’ she tapped her foot on the accelerator, ’bout time I traded you in.’ The engine turned over sluggishly and then caught with a bang that probably would wake up half the neighbourhood.
She made an illegal turn in the drive and made a note to book herself tonight. ‘Hah-di-hah!’ That would be her first bust since she had arrived in Keithly a few months ago. This was a border town close to the Marches, neither English or Welsh. She imagined the inbred natives still counting their sheep to make sure none had gone over to the other side. It certainly fitted her ragged team. They didn’t know which side they were on either. She tried to think which of her men were in Tango and Delta. With luck it would PC Evans and PC Craig, both good honest veterans doing their jobs until retirement came around. She wasn’t so sure of the rookies though. Hanging a left turn she took an indirect route through the old industrial estate that bordered the woods. This was the route that would be used, rather than the direct road that would have alerted the press straight away. It was also the place where the forensics van would pull up. It hadn’t escaped her notice that the killer might have used this place as well, but you didn’t get many clues from concrete.
She hoped the crime scene had been sealed and that her partner DS Pritchard was already there. John was a professional like her. He also made damn good coffee which she needed right now. She saw a few squad cars pulled up with a uniform cop there to meet her
‘PC Walker sir, I’m here to keep the perimeter secure.’ She managed to keep a straight face, at least he was earnest .It also meant that one of veterans was already here. ‘Who’s in the field?’ she asked. He looked a bit nervous and immediately she sensed trouble.
‘Um, well it was PC Drummond that got here first. He was on the beat when the call went out to you. PC Craig was on call but it was too late by then.’
‘God,’ she thought, ‘not old Drummond. Even the rookies knew he spelt trouble for them all.’
She patted the lad briefly on his shoulder.’ Not your fault Kiddo, dare I hope that Pritchard’s here?’ ‘Yes Serge, and Evans too. He told me to allow nobody but you and Dr Bailey’s team through.’ The boy still looked worried. ’You did well Walker I’ll get you some backing soon. Just try to keep the press away.’ That would have to do for now, she had work to do.

There was a path that led from one of the many gaps in the fence. This was obviously used by joggers and the kids that sought privacy to shoot up a little crack. The dossers would be using one of the old rundown units. She kept to the track as much as possible, loath to smear any more dirt on the trail. In the distance she could see the welcome sight of yellow crime scene tapes and hoped the area hadn’t been compromised. If it had she’d chew Turner another A-hole. Evans came forward to meet her looking very relieved. ‘Hi Serge, nasty bit of business. I got here as soon as I could. Drummond’s at the far entrance doing his own damage control.’ He laughed but it was clear that it was forced. She looked down and saw that he was wearing the protective footwear and guessed that Drummond hadn’t bothered. ‘Just tell me he didn't touch her ?’ She asked. ‘No but he didn’t contain the couple that found the body. The girl was pretty hysterical and the boyfriend wanted her to go to hospital.’ He anticipated her next question. ‘They are both with John, see that hut over there? It’s mainly used by birdwatchers. We’re waiting for the doctor but I think they’ve both had a slug.’ Sandra smiled. John kept a bottle of neat whisky and brandy, said it was the best tranquilliser. She would greet him soon, right now she wanted to see the crime scene. First impressions often proved the best.
The body was in a little clearing, half obscured by a bush. It was just off the main track into the woods and she guessed correctly that the couple had chosen it for some out door sex. The woman lay naked with her hands folded neatly over her breasts. Her feet were straight out in front of her with the toes pointing outwards. The head was the only thing that was twisted and even that looked staged, as if the perpetrator wanted to convey shock. The empty eye sockets were certainly gruesome with the motionless gaze of a zombie. No wonder the girl had hysterics.
Her senses rebelled against this outrage. The head itself was otherwise undisturbed, the blonde hair fanning out around what had once been a pretty face. The body bore no other injuries, either pre or post-mortem as far as she could tell. The body must have been dumped here and obviously during the night. No animal had fed on this corpse and no insect had marred the perfection of the white skin.
‘Hi Sandy, any coffee going?’ it was Dr Cristina Bailey, the chief of forensics and the local coroner. Sandra moved up to let her friend get a better view. ‘I only just got here. I wanted a clear view before the vultures descend. John will have a flask going, though.’ She added.
Christine surveyed the scene in a similar way to Sandra. She got out her pad and pen, marking each box with a tick or cross. Sometimes she would make a note to be followed up later. This was her modus operandi. Now she got out her recorder and started to dictate.
‘Subject is a Causican female aged approximately twenty-five. Maybe 5 feet six inches. Build slight but no signs of malnutrition. No sign of significant trauma at this stage apart from loss of eyes and surrounding tissue. Early indications suggest that the body was dumped here.’
‘It doesn’t look too promising, does it?’ Sandra asked.
‘On the surface I’d say no, but who knows what we’ll turn up? She turned to her assistant Tim and he started to shoot the crime scene from every angle.
‘Looks that way to me.’ Sandra answered. ‘I could be wrong but doesn’t this look rather strange, ‘ she asked. ‘Sort of too good to be true, like he’s playing with us?’
‘I know exactly what you mean, but hey, we’re women, so we don’t think.’ However each woman might put it the stumbling block was there. ‘Oh shite, let’s get some coffee. ‘Chriisie said.
DS John Pritchard was glad to see the women. It was proving hard to question the witnesses. The doctor was ready with the sedative and the boyfriend was ready to start screaming,’ police brutality,’ any minute now. It didn’t take them long to confirm the girl’s story.
‘Yes, they were going to have sex. No, they weren’t into anything kinky. As far as they could tell the woman was a complete stranger. No, how could they be sure when she didn’t have any eyes. They weren’t perverts, they were over the age of consent, now could they go to the hospital or back home?’ Sandra knew they were telling the truth. ‘Sedate her and make sure she’s kept in hospital for twenty-four hours. I don’t think she will complain. ‘
She helped herself to some of John’s excellent coffee and sat back on a sack with a sigh.
‘Okay, first impressions?’ she asked him. He didn’t bother beating around the bush.
‘Obviously murder. No sex involved. He could be a non-secretor but the whole thing looks ritualistic. Chrissie will back us up on that.’ She nodded her acknowledgement, she’d already come to a similar conclusion.’ I’m no expert but I’ve done the basic profiling. Eyes are prime targets for many reasons.’ John went through them.
‘First we have the inadequate man. He can’t get an erection unless he can fantasise. Most of these are harmless, mummies boys that can’t have a normal relationship. When they finally snap and commit murder they rarely resort to anger but driven to the extreme will take the eyes that saw them.
Next is the real weirdo. They see threats everywhere. They may yearn for a woman but then see them as threats. These usually take the eyes, ears and tongues as well. Rather like the three monkeys.’ John stopped to see if they were following him.
Both women nodded, they could see his points.
‘The last one is a wild card. He could collect eyes like a trophy hunter. It could be one act of rage, yet I don’t see any signs of that. Then we have the real cranks that believe the eyes will retain the image of the killer. It’s well known in folk law and has accounted for a massive 5% of all murders.’
‘That’s very convincing John, normally I would say you are spot on. I realy hope this is just one random killing but the control suggests something different. We may have a serial killer on our hands.’ Sandra hoped she was wrong, but that inner voice said she was right.
‘We’ll take it into account, ‘ John replied, ‘how soon can we get the post mortem.?’ He asked Chrissie.
‘I’ll delegate the usual work and do the body work myself,’ she replied and walked out of the room.
‘You didn’t handle that very well,’ Sandra told him. He looked abashed and then got himself under control.
‘I just find it difficult working with a female team,’ he retorted. ‘I know she’s good at her job but I just can’t seem to trust the feminine intuition you both go on about.’
‘Yet it’s no stranger than any of your theories. Drop it John, or take the bait for God’s sake. I can’t work with a partner whose mind is elsewhere. ‘
She was referring to the job offer that had come from the SAS headquarters. Technically she was John’s superior officer, though they shared the same rank. She’d worked the homicide detail at Hereford and knew that this posting was a sideways step. There were no options. Take the job at Keithly or fade into the background. All for a moment of rashness that would earn a male colleague a pat on the back and drinks all round.
‘I’m going back to the station,’ she said. ‘I’ve had all the bullshit I can take for one day. I want complete cover on this and no leaks to the press. John, you will work the scene. Evans, I want you on damage control. Get Walker off the perimeter, he’s a good lad but not up to this. I want Drummond in the station before I get there. You talk to no one, you answer only to me.
Got that?’

She was shaking when she walked away but couldn’t give a damn. She’d outfaced them and probably made an enemy of John, but it was her neck on the block and she’d be damned if she’d take the fall for these pathetic creeps. She’d liked John Pritchard from the start. He was a good officer and often acted on his hunches, a rare thing on the force nowadays. This profiling job was his for the taking, if only he would make his mind up. Breaking in a new partner was hell and especially during a Homicide case. Right now she should be on the way to base and calling a meeting. So what if some of her team called her “lockjaw” behind her back. She’d had worse nicknames than that. Contrary to belief she kept her team informed as much as possible. These thoughts passed through her mind in seconds, already she was preparing a briefing in her head. By now she was back at the industrial estate and already bagging her overalls. The chances of finding any clues were scarce, but rules were there for a reason. Cases had sometimes been cracked by stray threads on the boot of an officer.
Walker was still there but Evans had pulled in an off duty cop, another pro, though few would think it. ‘Plods’ these were called, but they did over half the donkey work of a case. Plods went door to door checking the fine details of an ongoing case. They checked phone records and spent hours of police time following up any lead, however small it appeared.
Once again she kicked the Polo back to life. She needed a cash infusion quick.
On rout to the station her mind replayed the murder scene. She had been either blessed or cursed with a photographic memory.
Click! The empty eye sockets. Click, the neatness of the display, for display it was. Click! The position. The movie ran a moment and then paused. She pulled off the road and straight into a parking space. There was something nagging her, something either present or missing. Damn! She’d love a fag but she’d given up that vice for six months now.
It was something to do with a piece of clothing and yet the victim was naked? Zoom into a shot of the hysterical woman.
Her skirt had grass marks. It wasn’t a lot but there were no grass marks on the victim’s body, as far as she could tell. Think, dammit, was there any displaced vegetation, any flattened grass, any dew stains? The cell phone was on the passenger seat. She punched in the numbers and got John on the first try. Quickly he saw the significance and promised to get back to her . It was a slim chance but if she was right then the crime scene needed to be extended.

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