Forever
Author: T. Cooper; Allison Glock-Cooper
Date: 2018-09-04 16:07:29+00:00
Keywords: Young Adult Fiction; Fantasy; Contemporary; lgbtq; Social Themes; Self-Esteem & Self-Reliance; Diversity & Multicultural
Description: In this series finale “the suspense is high, the plot is irresistible . . . fast-paced and wonderfully, forcefully loud about privilege” (Kirkus Reviews). When we left Kim Cruz in Changers Book Three, she’d just come out to her best friend. In Changers Book Four: Forever, Kim discovers that this is only one small part of understanding who she is and where she belongs. Soon enough, she changes again, into the body and social status of her dreams. What she does with her newfound power will come to haunt her. In this “bang-up ending to the series,” our hero learns what it means to be the person e
Publisher: Akashic Books

Copyright © 2019 by Craig Mullins
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United Kingdom

Published by CAM Publishing

Cover Design: Original Drawing by Craig Mullins

First Printing, July 2019

ISBN:9781724381453

www.facebook.com/authorcraigmullins

Other Books by Craig Mullins

Novels

Hard Candy

Breaking Hard Candy

No Refunds

Short Stories

57

Unplanned Journey

For Tina & Tia Maria

I love you both

Amy Cooper

Forever

By Craig Mullins

ONE

And so he began…

Velvet Heart – An Autobiography

My name is…

No, this isn’t about me it’s about Amy Cooper—the girl I loved. The girl whose heart I broke into a thousand pieces. I tell a lie, it was more a case of thinly sliced, sautéed in a morsel of butter with shallots and shiitake mushrooms, deglazed with Madeira, and finished with double cream—delicious.

But she did break my heart first.

He looked at the lines of text, pleased with the start to his book; one of his life goals was to write a book and have it published—not for the money, but to tell his story. It was mid-afternoon on the twenty-second of September, the Autumnal Equinox. Now that he had started writing he didn’t want to stop, he had a story to tell and tell it he would. He sat at his little desk, an old school one from the sixties, sloping wooden lift up lid and along the top to the right hand side a circular hole to take an inkwell. He had a row of HB pencils, each sharpened to a lethal point and ready to go lined up to his left, his writing pad in front of him—a two hundred page A4 ruled one with margin. The only natural light seeped in through the portal window, a twelve inch circular grill covered lens his only sight to the outside world.

The crudely scribed top of the desk with decades of inscriptions from hormonal teenagers hid the contents of his upcoming writing career, a further bundle of pencils tied with an elastic band, two more pads—numbered two and three—the one on top of the desk had a neat ‘one’ written on top of it and half a dozen erasers. He’d planned this book for nearly six months, he built up his supplies so that there could be no excuse not to finish his masterpiece, and now he just wanted to get started.

He stared back at the sheet of paper with his seven lines just as the inmate across from him broke out into song. Out of tune and in a key beyond any standard scale she belted out ‘I will survive’ by Gloria Gaynor.

“Shut the fuck up Nursey, I’ve heard better tunes come from Homo’s arse,” Chef said from the cell next to Pinky’s.

“What you talking ’bout? I coulda been the next Aretha Franklin when I was younger, you tosser.”

“Can the pair of you shut the fuck up, I’m trying to write in here,” Pinky said. After a short stint of whistles and name calling the block was silent. He returned to his page, the pencil hovered over the last sentence and he started to write once more.

I should probably start at the beginning; I usually find it is the best place. I won’t go right back just yet, I will go to the most important starting point—the day I first laid eyes on her, the day I fell in love.

I remember it like it was yesterday, I will never forget it. Mid June in nineteen eighty-nine and I had just turned eighteen, we were working at a house on a private estate. I say we, I should explain, I was an apprentice carpenter working with this oaf of a man. Pete was twenty stone of beer and takeaways, he would belch and fart his way through the day but he was an exceptional chippy. As I said we were working at this house, one of the more modest ones on the estate, five bedrooms and we had the task of fitting a new kitchen.

Me and Pete had custom built the units at his workshop and today was the first day working on site. Evie and Rob were there when we arrived, they made us a coffee and left us a plate of posh biscuits before going to work (the kind I never had at home). It was a pretty uneventful day until three-thirty came around, Pete decided it was time to begin clearing up and packing the tools away. My back was to the door as I placed the screwdriver in the toolbox before the clasp snapped shut, I turned as I heard someone come in—and that was when I saw her, a vision.

She stood there framed in the doorway, navy blue pleated skirt with matching blazer (I even remember the Langston school badge), knee length navy socks and a white blouse. The material so thin I could see the outline of her bra, but it was the eyes that had me, a rich coffee, and her crooked front teeth. She didn’t need to speak, I knew I was in love.

He placed his pencil on the desk, the inscription below it scratched into the wood was of a heart with the words—Amy Cooper Forever—written across it and finished off with the ‘o’ of Cooper pierced by a crooked arrow. He did this a couple of years ago; it was one of a few dozen which covered the desk. The last few lines he wrote brought back vivid images of that day, he could smell her hair as if she was in this very cell with him. If he closed his eyes he would swear he could touch her. And at that very moment he had the deepest urge to do just that—to touch her, to caress her, to fuck her.

One of the things he hated about this cell was the lack of privacy; all his daily rituals could be heard from the other six in the corridor arrangement of rooms. Relief would have to wait until later.

He was located in the first cell to the left of the security door into which all visitors and personnel entered. In the other three on his side were Chef, Homorapien and Fiddler; the other side were Nursey, Babyface and The Crafter which left the cell directly opposite spare. It was used as a general dumping ground, cleaning materials and supplies for the inmates, soap, toilet paper etc. All cells had steel doors, two slots were cut into each, one at floor and one at waist level, each twelve inches by six, the uppermost had a drop down flap. The inside of the cells had changed little since its construction in 1899, the dirty cream padded walls with arm and leg straps still attached to the wall opposite the door. Since it changed its use to a private facility each cell had the addition of a single metal framed bed, a toilet, a basin, and a desk with a chair.

He began to write once more.

“Hi, I’m Amy,” she said, placing her bag on the recently fitted worktop to her left.

I couldn’t get up quickly enough, offering my hand before realising that it was already hot and clammy but it was too late to take it back, she took it and we shook hands, “I’m Pinky by the way,” I felt the electricity flow from her straight into me, the jolt to my heart was real, I just hoped it was the same for her.

“The kitchen’s looking good, you’re very talented.”

“Like fuck he is miss,” he just had to butt in, I had almost forgotten he was there, in my head it was just me and Amy, then Pete had to ruin it.

“Ignore him Amy, he’s just an oaf,” my brain knew what I was saying wouldn’t end well, but my heart was so swollen with love I didn’t want to let this moment end. Before I knew it Pete had given me a slap round the head.

“You ain’t got time to be chatting up no lass boy, go start loading the van,” he said. “Sorry about that miss but he’s a lazy little cunt.” That was all I heard as I carried the large toolbox out to his clapped out old Vauxhall Combo van, it used to be white but was now indistinguishable from the burnt orange and brown of the rust. I placed the box in the van as quickly as possible, wanting to get back to the kitchen, I almost stumbled over the door frame in my haste before realising that she was no longer there. Her schoolbag had gone, she’d gone and all that lingered was her scent, her innocence and purity evident in that one small part of her left behind.

CHAPTER 2

He decided to call it a day and start fresh tomorrow with the new chapter. He lifted the lid of his desk to place his writing tools inside, the manuscript (200 page ruled pad) he handled with delicate precision as it took pride of place in the centre of the desk on top of the two other pads, he noticed that during the day he must have doodled on the title sheet of his work as there were literally hundreds of tiny hearts surrounding the big bold letters of the title ‘VELVET HEART’

TWO

Eight in the morning and Fiddler was already ranting about the lack of air he gets, after fifteen years he should be used to his one hour a week in the tightly controlled outside space, All the inmates have the same allotted time. Every Friday each inmate is escorted in turn to the other end of the corridor where a new door was installed when the private firm SIC took control over twenty years ago. Beyond the door was heaven as far as the inmates were concerned, the reality was a ten foot square steel cage, constructed of a special frame into which blast resistant glass was fitted, the same material completed the box. Holes were placed at uniform intervals to allow some freshness to pass into and out of the box. It was not ideal but with the danger the inmates posed it was the best they’d get.

“Hey Fiddler, you were out there yesterday, you do this every fucking Saturday. I don’t really see the difference to being out in that box to the one in here—either way, you ain’t going anywhere. If you didn’t want to be locked up for twenty-four hours a day you should’ve left those little kiddies alone,” Babyface said.

The other inmates joined in jeering at fiddler, of all the prisoners he was the least liked, though all are in for the most heinous of crimes there was still a hierarchy among them. And paedophile was definitely at the bottom, the most revered of the group was Chef—they all admired him.

“Fuck the lot of you.” He said and those were the last words he uttered that day, he had a tendency to take things to heart which considering his crime was quite an achievement. He was also the oldest of the group at fifty-seven; he’d been here just over twelve years. He was caught when a group of former pupils got together and went to the authorities about the abuse they had suffered during their time at the Westwood boarding school for boys on the outskirts of North London. His features were that of a rodent, small hazel eyes set too closely together, dark brown hair finished just above his shoulder in a strange kink. And his nose appeared to come from a much larger face, completely out of proportion for his own.

Inmates were allowed their own clothes within certain guidelines, Fiddler always chose to wear the same—a pair of grey flannel trousers, white shirt with a dark grey tie drawn on (a real one was a prohibited item for obvious reasons), he finished his look off with a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles with a spiders-web crack in the top left corner of the left lens. SIC had offered to get them replaced but for some reason Fiddler was adamant that they were not to be touched. Pinky had asked him once about why he wouldn’t get them fixed and Fiddler’s response had been to remove them and caress them in his hands with a strange smirk on his face.

It was gone lunchtime before Pinky got back to his novel, annoyed at himself for wasting so much time that morning chatting, he decided that the afternoon was going to be a much more productive session. With the tools of his trade set out in front of him he began once more.

Chapter 2

The second time I saw her wasn’t an accident. It was nearly a week since my first encounter with Amy, each day I had hoped she would once more walk through that door, but no, one day we didn’t finish until five-thirty and still she hadn’t come home. To be honest I was worried about her, there were lots of boys that would take advantage of a girl like Amy. So come Friday I decided I would call Pete and tell him I was sick, this didn’t go so well, I got a mouthful down the phone telling me what an ungrateful cunt I was (I hate that word, but he uses it in almost every sentence) and if I didn’t want the job I should just fuck off. After I had listened to his tirade I apologised profusely and told him that my mum was taking me to A&E because she was worried and I hated letting him down. This seemed to placate him somewhat—he had a thing for my mum, the dirty old perv.

It was seven-thirty when I got off the phone with Pete, I just had enough time to get to Amy’s before she left to catch her school bus at eight. I was going to have to be careful as Pete would very likely arrive while I waited for her. I left the house, a three bed semi on a rough council estate where I lived with my mum and brother, two slices of toast, one in my mouth and one in my hand. I got in my car and it coughed and spluttered before it finally burst into life. The rain was light and the skies were dark, a storm was brewing and it took me less than fifteen minutes until I was pulling up in a side street thirty seconds from her house. I knew Pete approached from the other direction so I would be safe as long as I stayed where I was, and Amy had to cross at the end of the road so I would see her before she got on the bus.

It was about fifteen minutes before the familiar figure walked less than fifty feet in front of me, I would recognise her anywhere. Even in the thick coat she wore I could only imagine what was hidden beneath if what I saw the other day was anything to go by. It was twelve seconds I got to see her for. Each one burned into my retinas.

It was another five minutes until I watched as the bus passed by the end of the road, I started my car once more and pulled away—I followed her. I tried to stay a couple of cars behind like they did in all the cop shows; my favourite was always The Professionals with Bodie and Doyle. When the bus pulled off the main road and onto the road leading up to her school I was directly behind it. I could see the back of her head in the middle of the back seat, if she turned round there would be no way she would miss me, my car stood out. It was a Ford Fiesta in midnight blue with white trim and wing mirrors and huge front fog lights. It even had white fluffy dice.

As he typed the last sentence he heard the familiar sound of the first security door catch being released, Pinky looked at his watch—surely it wasn’t time for tea already. The day had flown by, half a dozen screwed up balls of paper on the floor and two more completed added to his previous ones. He hadn’t realised how easy this writing lark was, all those famous authors making shit loads of money from something he was doing here in this cell with limited resources. He had a wry smile to himself at the prospect of his upcoming notoriety when the day finally came when his book was published.

THREE

Friday 18th June 1982

The graduation ceremony had gone well, the weather had been warm but not too hot, the final count of recruits in her class had been fifteen. It had started off with twenty seven, but over the twelve weeks it had dwindled. Sian had been one of five female recruits, graduation day and she was the sole survivor of her contingent. In fact the last four weeks she’d been the only one. The men on the course didn’t like the idea of women training with them, in fact Sian knew why one of the women had quit. Six weeks in there had been a night out for the halfway point. The group had consisted of nineteen young men and three young women, they had gone to a local club. It had started as a really good night, lots of banter between the recruits. Around eleven a couple of the immature guys started to get out of control. As much as some of the others tried to calm them down it wasn’t until the next morning that Sian had discovered the truth about the previous evening  it was seven a.m. when she woke to find her roommate packing her bag.

“What’s up Kelly?” Sian asked her.

“I’m done, it ain’t worth it.” Her south London accent came through as the tears began to flow. Sian grabbed hold of her and pulled her close. She just held her, she knew how tough the training was and it had obviously got too much for her. What puzzled Sian though was they had got past the first half and last night was about celebrating that achievement. Why then was she so upset this morning, something must have happened.

“What happened last night Kelly?” She decided to go straight for the killer question.

“Nothing.” She still had her head buried in Sian’s neck.

“Don’t give me that shit Kelly, last night you were enjoying yourself, them you disappeared, Tom told me you weren’t feeling well, that you’d had a bit too much to drink and that you went back to sleep it off.”

“Fucking Tom would say that wouldn’t he.”

“You’re not making any sense, have they been harassing you?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Sian pushed her away and held her at arms length so that she could look into her bloodshot blue eyes. Kelly was your typical blue-eyed blonde stunner, curves in all the right places and in Kelly’s case she had brains. She was by far the smartest recruit on the course.

“Tell me – now. What happened?”

“What’s the point, they told me they would stick up for each other and that the rest of them would swear they never left the bar.”

“Tell me, I will believe you. We’ve spent the last six weeks together; I know you aren’t a liar.” She guided her over to the bed and sat down beside her. Sian was nineteen, but despite her youth she had a maturity much older than her years. She was pretty but not in a conventional way, her black hair gave her a goth appearance especially the brightness of her green eyes.

They sat like that for maybe fifteen minutes; Sian just held her hand and waited for her to begin.

“Around eleven o’clock I went to the bathroom, it was empty but just after I went into the cubicle I heard the door go. I thought nothing of it. When I came out Pete was there, he was drunk and made a grab for me. I laughed and told him to behave and besides he had the wrong room that this was the ladies. He then told me he had the right room and that I’d been teasing him all night and it was time for him to collect. Before I knew it he’d grabbed my hair and pushed me up against the wall. I struggled and told him to get off but his hands were everywhere.His fingers probed so deep it hurt, and I heard him undo his trousers and felt the warmth of him on my leg, he was having trouble getting it up thank god.” She paused, struggling to get the words out. “He would have raped me if he’d been able too. That’s why I’m leaving.”

Sian spent the next couple of hours trying to persuade her to stay, she also managed to get out of her that Richard was the one that stood guard at the toilet door stopping anyone else going in while Pete tried his best to fuck her best friend. One way or another she would make them pay.

She got Richard first, she knew he loved the idea of being a cop, the uniform, the status. For him being a police officer was about power,  she wanted to make sure he would never be able to become what he wanted. Her opportunity came when a group of them said they were heading to the west end, her and the sole remaining female recruit – Lucy - decided to join them. Boys will be boys and there first port of call had been the sex shops of Soho. There were a good half a dozen of them plus the two girls, Lucy had suggested to Sian that they go shopping rather than follow the boys around. Sian had agreed but said that there was one thing she had to do first, and unfortunately it meant they had to go into the shop with the boys. As they were larking about waving dildo’s around and looking at magazines, Sian took her opportunity and slipped a couple of videos into Richard’s back pack which he’d left unattended. Once she was done she grabbed Lucy by the arm and told her they were out of there. On the way out she went up to what looked like the manager and advised him that one of the group of young men had put some things into a back pack. She pointed him out and they left.

It wasn’t until they got back later that evening that they discovered recruit Richard Skinner had been arrested on suspicion of theft earlier in the day. As it turned out the shop dropped the charges as the items were returned but he was excluded from the course because in the words of their superiors ‘a man like that cannot be expected to uphold the laws that he was so incapable of following himself.’ One down one to go Sian thought. She had had an enjoyable day with Lucy, they discovered they had quite a bit in common, same music and fashion sense, they both loved football but disagreed on which team was the best.

Getting Pete kicked out was going to be trickier, Sian not only wanted him out she wanted him locked up after what he did to her friend. Her plan was simple, but first she had to get something. She knew that if she was caught it would spell the end of her career in law enforcement. If it worked it would stop a monster gaining any power, she didn’t want to think what sort of police officer Pete Donaldson would make. She decided her best chance was to go to the local nightclub after everyone was asleep, they weren’t supposed to leave the accommodation but she was prepared to risk it.

At eleven she snuck out, her party clothes on under a pair of jogging bottoms and sweater, if she got caught leaving she would claim she was going for a run. In her pocket was a black bin liner into which she put her outer clothes once she was clear of the perimeter and hid it behind a bush ready for her return.

It was a ten minute walk to the Paradiso nightclub, the night was warm but with her mini skirt and crop top the slight breeze started to chill her. By the time she joined the end of the queue she was cold, luckily for her the people in front were moving quite quickly, she was in the warm within five minutes.

Once inside she did a quick recce of the place, the music was loud and not really her scene at all. As she walked amongst the gyrating bodies of men and women she must have been groped a half dozen times, it made her wonder why anyone would put themselves through it. She could see the sign for the toilets straight ahead and knew that if she was to get what she wanted it would be somewhere in that vicinity. The other thing she noticed about places like this was the smell, a mixture of over indulgent cologne and perfume mixed with sweat and pheromones. Ten feet away she spotted him, the sly handshake, the knowing nod, he was definitely the one she was looking for. She made her way to him, “How much for Coke?” She asked.

“Ten.”

She’d anticipated the cost, and already had a ten pound note in her hand which she held out to him. As she did his hand went to his inside pocket and retrieved a small bag. They exchanged and she went, she headed straight out of the club.

She made it back to her room without incident, her roommate hadn’t even woken up, she quickly changed from her clubbing gear to her pj’s before hiding her purchase under her mattress until the morning. She knew her timing would have to be impeccable, the boys went for their showers at seven sharp, the same as the women, she would have a window of about two minutes before it was noted that she was not showering, she would use the excuse that she’d left her toiletries behind. She would plant the little package amongst the stash of girlie mags he kept in his bedside cabinet. Then all she had to do was alert her superiors without anyone knowing it was her.

The next morning as Sian and Lucy headed to the shower, she told her she’d forgotten her bag, she hurried back retrieved it and then quickly made her way to Pete’s room. Once inside she quickly deposited the bag and ran to the shower.

They got through the morning’s lessons, Pete was his usual boisterous self, he joked about Kelly not being able to cut it, that she was all blonde hair and big tits and would never have made it as a police officer anyway. During their lunch break Sian couldn’t wait to get to the phone box on the corner of the road outside the Hendon training centre. She ran all the way, she was fit and hardly noticed the exertion, the phone box had a couple of broken panes but the phone was intact. The interior stank of urine, she dug out a handful of coins and fed some into the slot. She dialled the number she knew by heart, and within two rings a polite female voice answered. “I’d like to report something please.” She said.

“I’m sorry madam but this is just a training centre, if you’d like to report a crime you need to call your local police station or 999.”

“I’d like to report one of your recruits, He deals in drugs. His name is Peter Donaldson.”

“Can I ta…” Sian had replaced the handset before she could get another word out. Once again she ran back to the cafeteria and settled down to lunch of spaghetti with meatballs in a tomato sauce.

It was during afternoon lessons that their head instructor entered the room and asked Pete to go with him. They were never told what happened, all they knew was that he never attended another class. Sian was satisfied, justice had been done, it was just a shame that Kelly had to quit.

FOUR

Monday morning and Pinky was hoping for a productive writing day, he was going to ignore the shit from all the inmates if he possibly could, though from experience he knew this was easier said than done, most of them he would quite happily ignore with the exception of Chef. He was one of those people that had a way about them which exuded charm and intrigue.

At forty-five Chef was close in age to Pinky, that and they shared–shall we say–a penchant for certain edible delicacies. Chef was well known in certain circles for his culinary experiences, they ranged from meals made from endangered species, the starting price for such a meal depended on the rarity of the animal, but rumours were that ten thousand would be the cheapest. But Chef’s pièce de résistance was for the select few clients that had bottomless pits of wealth, for these special people once they had parted with a half million pounds sterling they were treated to the most beautifully cooked sixteen year old virgin, served ‘Chaud-Froid’. He would poach the girl whole before covering her in the white chaud-froid sauce and then elaborately decorate her form with the finest truffles and other delicacies as his mood took him, she would then be presented as the centrepiece of the table. During his talks with Chef, Pinky had learned the nuances of cannibalism, the best methods of cooking for each part, realising where he had gone wrong with his own experience. Chef had advised him that his method of cooking the heart was more suited to say the liver, that the heart was a hard working muscle and as such required a long slow braise to break down the fibres. Pinky had to admit that he had found the pan fried heart very chewy, but eating the liver really wouldn’t have had the same symbolism for him–after all Amy Cooper hadn’t broken his liver, she’d pulverised his heart.

At eight fifteen he was ready to get started, all his implements set out before him, no distractions, though he could hear the silent whimpering of Nursey which he could block out easily as he had no sympathy for her. His goal today was to finish chapter two and maybe start chapter three, he would see where the day took him. Re-reading what he had written on Saturday he set about putting pencil to paper.

I followed the bus closely until we hit the dual carriageway, where I dropped back a few cars. The rain was beginning to fall so I had to put my sidelights on and wipers, by the time the bus turned off on the road leading up to the school the rain had increased in its intensity. The winding road was barely wide enough for the bus, as it passed the quaint little church on its right and snaked round the bend I took a chance and sped up so that I was less than six feet from its bumper. A part of me wanted her to turn around, but a bigger part of me hoped she wouldn’t.

As her bus pulled into the school gates I gunned the engine and swerved around the rear of the bus, taking the car up through the gears, each one screaming with pain before I changed up to the next one. I drove like this until I reached the nearby woods before pulling into their car park and switching the engine off.

I sat there for what must have been half an hour just retracing every second from when she had crossed the road in front of me to catch her bus. The way her hair had covered the back of the seat, the way she had turned her head to talk to her friend in the seat next to her, I just loved everything about her. Every second I thought about her, the harder I got, I checked around me in the car park and realised mine was the only car here.

I got out of the car and went around to the boot, lifting the cover that covered the spare wheel I retrieved the magazine I had picked up on my way home from work yesterday and had not yet had a chance to look at. Each Thursday after I would take a detour home, to a small newsagents run by an old Asian man who must be nearly a hundred. He would sit on his stool behind the counter wearing the same beige cardigan and faded corduroy trousers he always wore. The cigarette sticking out of his moth always appeared to be the same length as though time was standing still in this one little segment of the world, I came here because he had the best selection of Adult magazines, the rack was to the rear of the shop so I could browse without too much bother from fellow patrons. Also the shop was far enough from the estate I lived in that I was unlikely to bump into someone I knew. Most weeks I would end up buying the same magazine–Fiesta, or occasionally Escort- but for some reason yesterday a new one caught my eye, it was called Club International and promised ‘Schoolgirl Special’. After a quick glance at the cover I decided to deviate from my usual and give this a chance, for one reason and one reason only, one of the models featured as part of the special bore a striking resemblance to Amy.

Back in the warmth of my car I switched the engine back on and turned the heater to max, I’d got a bit wet retrieving the magazine, though had made sure to protect it by stuffing it up my t-shirt.

I held the magazine in front of me, the ‘U’ of the word ‘Club’ obscured by the face of a pretty girl dressed in a pink school blouse opened though her hands covered her breasts, a striped blue and yellow tie and a short white skirt barely concealing her panties. While in the bottom right corner the headline ‘Schoolgirl Special’ under which, was a face remarkably similar to that of Amy.

I was eager to get to the page where she was, but I wanted to draw out the moment so I started at the beginning, for the first time since I have been reading these magazines, which is not an inconsiderable time I found I had no interest in any of them. As I flicked from page to page, each girl seemed to blur into the next one, even the sight of their pussy on full show was proving inadequate to get me hard. I flicked through quicker eager now to find my one true love, then I hit the page which started the feature, the Schoolgirl Special, though to be fair it looked like it had been a long time since any of these girls were in school, they may be dressed in uniforms and have pigtails, but schoolgirls they weren’t. Then came the moment I had been longing for, her name in the magazine was Madison, she lived in Windsor and was eighteen years old. Granted she did look just young enough to be in school, and the image of her leaning over her desk with her skirt hiked up and knickers pulled to once side would normally be enough to get me off multiple times. She just wasn’t Amy.

I threw the magazine on to the back seat in disgust before closing my eyes and reaching into my trousers, my memories of her would have to be enough. It wasn’t too long before the welcome sensation just before you come was upon me, it had taken minutes to reach the point that the magazine would have taken all day to achieve. What tipped me over was imagining her coming home from school, I was alone working on the kitchen, without a word she removed her knickers and bent over the newly installed central island and told me to take her any way I wanted.

After cleaning myself up I went back to the magazine and read a few of the articles, I had plenty of time to kill before Amy finished school and I could follow her home. But I came to the conclusion that day that I would never buy another girly magazine, and would never visit my little Asian shop keeper again, all I needed was my memories of Amy. My mind was capable of making up numerous scenarios where we end up together.

Lunchtime came and went without Pinky even realising, the first he knew about it was the tray of food placed just inside the door, long cold, though he doubted it had tasted much better even when it was lukewarm as dinner tended to be. He looked at the plate of food, on the main plate there were three piles, one a greyish mass of what he assumed was mashed potato, the second a stack of insipid looking vegetables, boiled so vigorously the colour practically gone, and finally what once belonged to a pig – a pork chop would be the correct culinary term, he wasn’t sure what he would call it.

As he moved the plate in front of him, he had already stowed his valuable manuscript away while he are, a voice bellowed from across the room.

“How was your lunch Pinky?” Chef asked.

“Is that what it is? I’m just about to eat it, then I’ll let you know.”

“It’ll be cold now, it’s nearly an hour since it arrived, were you working on that book of yours again?

“Yeh, time got away from me Chef, I bet your food was better than this shite they serve up.”

“I wish you could have come to one of my dinners, you would really have appreciated it, the finest food, the best wines and Cognac to die for. If I ever get my hands on that fucking accountant that grassed me up, he’ll be the centrepiece of my next soiree.”

“I’m coming to that without a doubt, though you gotta get out of here first, and short of breaking out you ain’t going nowhere are you?” He heard Chef roar with laughter at his last comment. He started with his food, but after a couple of mouthfuls he pushed it to one side and once again retrieved his work, ready to start the next chapter.

FIVE

Saturday 26th June 1993

Nine o’clock.and Adam rolled out of his single bed, the quilt lay at the base of the bed and barely covered the feet of the naked girl with her back to him. His mouth felt drier than the Sahara and his need to pee was growing by the second. He walked out of his bedroom and along the landing, his parents would both be at work so he saw no reason to put any clothes on. His years of visiting the gym five times a week had paid off, that and the regular steroid injections gave him the body of an Adonis. With his blue eyes and blonde hair he was the perfect Aryan specimen. He stood in the toilet and waited for the stream to begin, he’d noticed that lately his waterworks had been a bit unreliable, he put it down to the jabs he endured for his body. It started then stopped and then started again and went on for ages. The girl in his bed had a name but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what it was. Not that it mattered he wouldn’t be seeing her again.

Back in his bedroom he sat on the edge of the bed and rolled a joint, he needed something to get going most mornings. The girl began to stir as he lit his spliff. She turned to face him, her young body like alabaster against her black hair. He’d always liked his girls young, she could be no more than sixteen. As he drew a hit she reached around his body and started stroking him. She carried on until he was hard and then with her petite frame and agile body she swung round until she was in his lap and she expertly guided him inside her body. Her breasts had barely formed but he still didn’t hesitate taking one of the nipples in his mouth. He let her work her magic to a certain point then he placed his hands under her bum and lifted her as he walked to the opposite wall still inside her. With her back pushed hard against the wood chip paper he thrust harder and faster until his body shook and within seconds he was done and he’d shrunk back to his meagre length – another side effect of the steroids. He left her leaning against the wall with no idea if she was satisfied or not. He looked at her, the absence of hair meant he could see as his seed slowly oozed from her and down her thigh.

He pulled on a pair of jeans and went downstairs when he heard the letterbox bang and mail hit the wooden floor. His parents’ house was a three bedroom semi, the same one he was born in nineteen years ago. His mum and dad both worked at the same factory they’d been at since they left school. His mum was the accounts clerk and his dad was a tool maker, they were happy. They didn’t have a lot but for them all that mattered was their only son Adam, his well being and his happiness. Adam knew this and took advantage of the fact, hence why he drove a brand new Peugeot 205, and why they tolerated his obsession with sex and young teenage girls. Most parents would never allow their child the freedom that they allowed Adam. He held on to the white painted bannister as he made his way down the stairs, there must be fifteen coats of paint on it, he remembered when it was bare wood and as a kid he would mount it and slide to the bottom. A pile of envelopes sat at the base of the front door. He picked them up and rifled through them, most were addressed to his parents, but one caught his eye. A plain white envelope addressed to him but what caught his eye was the printed logo, a crudely drawn image consisting of three triangles, a circle and an ellipse to form an angel. Underneath this were the words ‘Angel Promotions’. He put the rest of the mail on the side table while he took his letter back upstairs. As he turned she was coming down, she was carrying her red stilettos and as she walked past him she held her hand up to her face mimicking a phone and said “Call me.” She carried on walking aware that she had never given nor would she ever give him her number. She accepted last night for what it was, a night of okay sex, but not one she had any desire to repeat. He was one of the poorest she’d had and at the tender age of just seventeen there had already been a couple of dozen. The way she was going she would be pregnant with her first child before her next birthday.

He barely acknowledged her as he carried on up the stairs, unaware as she opened and shut the front door and was gone. He ripped the envelope open and started reading:

---------------------------------------------

Invitation

You are cordially invited to attend the opening night of Yarmouth’s newest nightspot.

Devils & Angels Gentleman’s Club

This is. VIP invite entitling you to two nights accommodation, transport to and from the venue, all inclusive evening including all drink, private dances and tips.

For full instructions please read the terms and conditions.

The ticket is valid for the named person only and is non-transferable.

Accommodation is at the Belle Vista Chalet Park. Just report to reception and give them your name

.

The event is for ticket holders only and no other persons will be admitted.

Your chalet will be available from:

2pm on Friday the 2nd July 1993

Event starts at 8pm until late, car will pick you up from reception at 7:30pm and will return you after the event.

-----------------------------------------------

He sat on the edge of the bed and read the letter another half dozen times. It looked legitimate; it had been posted from Great Yarmouth. It was going to be an amazing weekend, free booze, free accommodation, free women, what more could a teenage boy ask for. Last nights girl was just one in a long string of such nights. He was beginning to get bored with the same old girls that appeared to be attracted to him. This could be his chance to hook up with a real woman. As he looked around his room he began to think that he needed to make changes to his life. The walls of his room were littered with posters of semi-naked girls draped over expensive supercars, the box under his bed was full of adult magazines. And on top of his wardrobe behind an ancient suitcase was a box full of video cassettes containing extreme pornographic films, many of which featured sadistic bondage sex. His life was becoming a slide into degradation, his needs were becoming stronger. He was treating the girls with less and less respect and he could become rough with them, at times he scared himself with how far he may go.

This weekend would be the last of it, he would indulge himself one last time. When he got back he would try to rebuild his life. The porn would go, the endless one night stands would go, the attitude he had for women would go. But most of all he was going to change his attitude toward his parents. For too long he had manipulated them into giving him whatever he wanted, even if it meant sacrificing their own plans or happiness. They had always put him first above all else. And he’d let them.

The first to go were the posters, still in just his jeans he took down the posters. First to go was Daisy Duke in her cut off shorts and tied gingham shirt as she draped her body over the General Lee. Also gone were the red swimsuit clad Pamela Andersen, the cast of Beverly Hills 90210 – his favourite was Jennie Garth with her blonde hair and perfect body. With the posters in a pile by his feet next to go were the magazines. He pulled the box from under his bed, there must have been at least fifty. Some were your everyday porn magazines with images naked women, others were stronger European mags depicting acts of sex. These he had stolen from his best friends dad, they’d discovered the secret stash when they were fourteen and over the last few years he’d hidden one in the back of his trousers and up his jumper, even his friend didn’t know he had them. He put the magazines together with the posters. Last to go was the box containing the films. He had to decide what to do with the stash, he couldn’t just put it in the trash. He’d lifted the suitcase down to retrieve the box behind and decided it would be a good place to put everything until he found a way of disposing of it all.

With his collection of porn safely hidden away he did something he had never done, he gathered up all his clothes from the floor – including under his bed. There he found a pair of red lace panties from the girl who’d not long left, as well as a pair of his own boxers which smelled like they had their own eco system living in them. What he did next was unprecedented; he took the pile downstairs and placed it in the washing machine. A quick glance at the controls and a squirt of detergent in the cap and he was ready to go. He couldn’t believe the way he was feeling, he’d never thought about anyone but himself. Looking back he even felt a twinge of guilt about last night, she hadn’t deserved the way he’d treated her, she was a sweet girl really and intelligent. Maybe once he got back from Yarmouth he would get in touch with her and take her for a meal – a proper date.

That was his plan, one last hedonistic weekend and then he would turn his life around. Get a job, respect his parents and most of all start living the life he wanted to live.

Another had different plans for him!

SIX

As he began writing the last thing he heard were The Crafter and Homorapien arguing about Donald Trump, he had no idea what they were discussing and to be perfectly honest he had no interest.

Chapter 3

It was a week before I saw her again, we were nearly finished with the kitchen, probably another couple of days and we would be out of there. It was a Friday about three forty-five, and just like the first time she came in through the back door, luckily for me Pete had nipped out about ten minutes earlier to go and pick up some more sealant, he would be gone at least an hour.

Just like before she put her bag on the counter, I stood up when I saw her and said the obligatory ‘hello’, I can still remember the way she looked at me, those eyes, an intense coffee colouring with a hint of honey. As I stared at her she asked me if I was alright, I don’t know how long I must have been staring at her. The next thing I knew she had gone and so had her bag.

I scolded myself for being an idiot, and went back to the one task Pete had entrusted me with-cleaning up the grouting on the tiles. I was so engrossed in the job at hand that I didn’t hear her return; the first I knew was the kettle being filled at the sink. My heart sank thinking Pete had got back early, I turned to see a sight I was not ready for.

She stood there at the sink with her back to me, her body shape accentuated by her tight fitting grey jogging bottoms. The bare small of her back visible between the waistband of the joggers and the hem of the charcoal crop top, twin plaits fell either side of her head reaching halfway down her back, each secured with a plain elastic band. When she turned with the kettle in her hand I knew I couldn’t stand up, things were happening in my trousers that I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide. I saw her lips move but barely heard a thing, my sole focus was on her crop top, when she had got changed she had removed her bra, now all I could concentrate on were the modest mounds topped with the most perfect nubs straining at the fabric.

“Sorry what was that?” I heard myself ask her, what she must have thought I cannot imagine though her smile told me she didn’t appear to mind. She repeated her request about whether I would like a cup of coffee. While she made us both a cup, I rushed to finish off the job I was doing, I had never worked so fast in my life. In the five minutes it took her to complete her task I finished mine, by my reckoning that gave me about thirty minutes before Pete was due back and that was assuming he didn’t get chatting at the suppliers.

With it being such a warm day Amy suggested we take the drink into the back garden. This was my first excursion out of the kitchen apart from bathroom breaks, and I knew that if Pete returned and found me there chatting to Amy he would make my life a living nightmare. But I didn’t care, Amy could have asked me to fly to the moon and I would have gone with her, I would do anything for her.

In the garden we sat on a lovely ‘L’ shaped Rattan couch with cream coloured cushions, she took the corner tucking her feet underneath her, I sat about four feet further down, cradling the warm coffee in my hands. I remember it like it was yesterday, she made a show of sniffing her armpits before asking if she smelled or was there another reason I was sitting so far away. I shuffled a couple of feet closer, close enough to smell her scent of what I could only describe as strawberries.

We chatted for the next few minutes about mundane things like favourite TV shows, her school, my work, boring stuff. I found her really easy to talk too, though I had to make a real effort to stop my eyes caressing her body, the discussion soon turned to more personal matters, she asked about my family which I skirted around and then I listened to her tell me about her family. An envy I have never felt before washed over me while I listened, she appeared to have the perfect life, a mum and dad that loved her, a little sister she loved and this lovely house to enjoy it all in.

As things progressed I was conscious of the time, I started telling her that we were nearly finished with her kitchen, and that I would soon be gone. My heart raced at the thought of asking her out, and until the words tumbled out I hadn’t been sure they ever would. With palms soaked with sweat I finally managed to ask her if I could see her when we had finished working there, maybe take her to the pictures or something.

It was then that she asked me if I knew how old she was, I replied that I thought she was maybe sixteen. This pleased her, the smile reached all the way to her eyes–those beautiful eyes- and her laugh was one that got you instantly, the second she laughed I couldn’t help join in. When she told me she was fourteen I thought I was hearing things, the way she looked, the way she talked, everything about her told me she was older. I had never thought of myself as a cradle snatcher but here I was chatting to a schoolgirl and having thoughts about her that I shouldn’t have been having. But still I wanted her, and would do anything to have her.

I tried to hide the shock in my voice and told her that it didn’t matter to me but if she was uncomfortable with it I would understand. She glowed at my response and I knew that from that moment on she would have to be mine, that there could be no way she would ever be with anyone else. I appreciated that before we could move to a more physical relationship we would have to wait, but she was worth it. My mind was already planning her sixteenth birthday when we could be together properly.

I heard Pete’s van pull up in the driveway on the gravel, I apologised to her and told her we would arrange something before rushing back indoors and picking up the nearest cloth before pretending to buff the tiles just as Pete walked through the door. No sooner had Pete walked in than Amy came through the other door carrying the two mugs and placing them in the sink. She gave me a look and winked before turning and walking back out, barely a glimpse at Pete.

Pinky placed his pencil on the desk, and flexed his fingers; they creaked as he did, an obvious sign of his age. He looked down at the scrunched paper on the floor, when he first started there would be at least a dozen or more, today there were less than half a dozen. He was finding the writing easier as he got into his story, he hadn’t realised what an effect the words he put on the paper would have on him. As he wrote today he was transported back to that very house, the smells, the sounds all came back to him. The strawberry scent from Amy, the sweat from Pete, he could even taste the bitter tang from the coffee once more, and her voice, he could have listened to her voice all day.

As his head came back to the present he heard The Crafter and Homorapien still arguing, though he had no idea what about, they were saying something about the UK being a dumping ground.

“Are you two still at it?” He shouted out to them.

“What’s your fucking problem Pinky, we’re having a meaningful discussion here.” The Crafter returned fire.

“So what is it this time?” Pinky thought a little bit of interaction may help bring his mind back from Amy, he still missed Amy and knew he always would.

“Charlie boy [aka Homorapien] here thinks that the UK has become a dumping ground for the worlds waifs and strays, and that he can’t wait for Brexit to happen so that we can chuck all the trash back to where it belonged. And I was explaining to him that it was the waifs and strays that kept my hobby going all those years.” The Crafter explained.

“What do you mean ‘they kept your hobby going’?”

“All of my crafting was from immigrants, I never once used a British national for my work.”

“How do you know they were immigrants, surely you didn’t ask them before you killed them, did you”

“Of course not, they all worked for my company at some time, either cleaning or gardening. When I employed them I had to check that they had the right to work in the UK, the ones that couldn’t supply evidence in the form of a passport I took on and paid cash in hand so that there was no paper trail. Then when I was ready they would suddenly stop working for me and end up as trinkets or other items to be admired.” The Crafter explained.

“And no one noticed your workers disappearing.” Pinky asked.

“No, I employed around thirty legitimate workers, and about half a dozen illegals, staff were constantly coming and going, it was a shame though because the illegals were generally my best workers, the English were the worst, they were such lazy fuckers. If they weren’t off sick they were skiving. The illegals would work sixteen hours a day, seven days a week.”

“Well I still think Britain would be great again without them.” Homorapien said as a final remark to end the conversation.

SEVEN

It had nearly been a week since Pinky had added any pages to his manuscript; the executives from head office turned up on Monday and had been there all week inspecting the staff, paperwork and buildings. On Wednesday a short squat bald man accompanied by a very attractive mid-thirties barrister came into the area of the cells, they ignored all the inmates and stood beside the one empty cell. The man was Leonard Wise, the chairman of the private company that ran the facility, it was a single block separated from the main building where years ago the infectious criminally insane were held until they either recovered or died. A small door at the end of the block led to a small ante chamber which housed a furnace, here was where they would incinerate the bodies of the infected to eradicate and chance of further infection. Stories were rife of inmates being forced into it alive when overcrowding became a problem in the early 1920’s, there was no evidence to back the rumours up.

Leonard Wise proceeded to tell the lady barrister that the cell would be cleared and would be just like the others, with a nod she didn’t say a word and they both left, as they walked out they could hear as he asked her if she thought the facility would be satisfactory. Did this mean they were getting another inmate was all Pinky could think about, it was bad enough that he hadn’t been able to write all week, now there was going to be another fuck-up to put up with as if the other six weren’t enough. And he knew it was bad news when a new inmate arrived.

He remembered back to the day when Charles Montgomery a.k.a. Homorapien arrived, he was bought in as they all had, in handcuffs. Pushed into a cell and told to place his hands through the slot so that the cuffs could be removed. He had done this without a word, then as soon as the escorting officers had gone he started. In a way it had been quite funny Pinky recollected, Charles had stood in his cell and with his posh accent declared that he was the evolution of mankind and that his new genus was called Homorapien. Mostly the inmates jeered him, Pinky thought that he would be trouble.

Pinky was proved right, for nearly a month Charles had preached his sermon about how he was wrongly convicted, that evolution can’t be wrong. He was convinced that as time moved forward he would be proved right that all humans would eventually evolve to his level where they would take whatever they wanted with or without consent – in essence they would rape. In his case this had manifested itself sexually, he would invite men to his house where he would brutally rape and torture them before his hallmark signature of removing their penis and eating it in front of them as they bled to death. He had tried to convince them all that it was natural for a person to take, history had proven that there were others like him, some had craved power like Genghis Khan, others derived pleasure from the flesh, the most notorious of these being Hugh Hefner – Charles was convinced that Hugh must have been a rapist because how else could he get all of those beautiful girls to sleep with him.

Charles also explained to them that he was not gay, yes he raped men and ate their penises but he loved women, he enjoyed the company of women and he enjoyed their bodies. He saw men as his competition, his opponents, with no other men around women would worship him.

In the end Chef had told him that if he didn’t ‘shut the fuck up’ he would find a way to get to him, remove his penis and gnaw on it like a dog with a bone. He also told him that it was not evolution that caused him to be the way he was, that he was just a jumped up posh schoolboy cunt who needed to realise his place in the hierarchy of the institution he found himself in.

From that day forward there was no more mention of his superiority, occasionally he would slip into tales of some young man he had taken home and what he had done to him, and in all fairness they were all guilty of sharing their tales.

With any luck the place would be theirs again come tomorrow, with all the executives gone back to wherever they came from – and he could get back to his writing again, he had missed it. He was looking forward to writing the next chapter as it was all about his first date with Amy Cooper, tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

“What do you think they wanted Pinky?” Babyface asked, this was a first for him as he rarely initiated conversation, a loner in many ways though he would join in occasionally. He was very softly spoken and at times it could be hard for Pinky to hear him.

“We’re getting a new inmate. God help us.” He said, he liked Babyface whose real name was Michael Carter. He never understood why he was in here, unlike the rest of them, Michael’s crime seemed relatively normal, yes he killed his family, but that was it. He killed his mum first, then his dad and then his sister, from the little of what Babyface had told him it was fairly straightforward.

He came home from work one day, sat down to a lovely family meal who up until that day he had loved unconditionally. After dinner he went upstairs to take a shower as he always did, then had his shave. He proceeded to go back downstairs to the kitchen where his mum was washing up, he grabbed the biggest knife from the drawer and plunged it into her neck severing her spinal cord. He then withdrew the knife from her lifeless body and went into the sitting room where his dad was watching Emmerdale. His dad never saw it coming as Michael drove the blade into his right ear until the tip surfaced on the left side. With both his parents now dead he went upstairs to find his sister who had turned sixteen the previous day, she was lying on her bed listening to music on her iPod. She had looked at him standing in the doorway with the dripping knife in his hand and blood soaked clothes. She yelled at him to get out but he ignored her, instead he stabbed her twenty six times in the face, chest and genitals. He obliterated any sign that she had been a blossoming young girl.

As heinous as the crime was Pinky was at a loss to understand how he was in here with the rest of them, there was nothing unusual about his murders, people have killed far more and not ended up here. All he can deduce is that there were more details that had not been shared. He’d asked Babyface on a number of occasions to elaborate on his crimes but so far he had stuck to the same story. But Pinky knew that he would eventually wheedle out of him what actually happened.

“Hope it’s another woman.” Nursey said.

“Young, fit and blonde will do me.” Chef replied to the amusement of all the others.

“Why, what would you do with her Chef – cook her and serve her up to us as a way of saying thank you for our riveting company?”

“No Nursey, it would just be nice to have something pleasing on the eye around here instead of that shrivelled up leathery thing you call a face. Yes a nice nubile young female would go a long way to improve the conditions in here.”

None of them were particularly enamoured of their surroundings, their cells still had the padding on the walls as well as the leather restraints for arms, legs and head. Some of the padding was so badly stained from previous inmates Pinky was surprised the company were allowed to keep them. He had realised long ago that the people locked away in here were the worst of the worst and to be fair why should society have to bear the brunt of keeping them in luxury, as long as they had the basic facilities and not treated like animals then in his mind it was acceptable.

The steel bars and doors though were all new, they were replaced about five years ago along with the toilets, sinks and beds. The only privacy each cell had was the four foot high stainless steel divider hiding the toilet at the rear of each cell. Apparently this was the one stipulation which allowed the cells to be used by either sex, there were no restrictions on how many of each the company could incarcerate. On current levels though it would appear that men are far more sadistic than women, either that or the women were cleverer and hadn’t been caught.

He really wasn’t looking forward to a new inmate, he had just about built up a rapport with the six already here, adding another one could upset the group dynamic. He knew he had issues with a couple, namely Nursey and Fiddler, the idea that anyone could hurt babies and children was abhorrent to him, he was polite enough and had many a conversation with them, but he still considered the pair to be below him on all levels. They appeared to have very childlike views on all aspects of life, while he talked to them they would often regress to childhood stories and talk about them as if they were yesterday. When Fiddler talked about abusing the boys in his care it was as if he was just one of the kids and they were having a lark – you show me yours, I’ll show you mine – kind of thing, yet he was a grown man and they were not even at puberty.

Others he had a lot of respect for, Chef was his best friend, they would often play chess, they both had a board and pieces and one would move and shout their move to the other so that he could move the corresponding piece on his board. He liked The Crafter with his tips and tricks of what to make from human parts, Pinky had never realised that the human body could be made into so many wonderful things, He wished he had known him before he came here, he would have liked to of made some souvenirs from Amy so that she could be with him always.

EIGHT

Saturday morning and Pinky was ready to get back to his story, he had asked the others if they would mind keeping it down today as he was hoping to get a lot of writing done, they had all said that they would try. From past experience Pinky knew that this was a long shot, none of them knew how to be quiet, the best he could hope for was a few hours to get some of his thoughts down on paper.

Chapter 4

Our first date was a day I would never forget, me and Pete had finished at her house on the Thursday, I saw her briefly before we left, Pete was rushing me to get the van loaded and we were nearly finished when I saw her walking up the road on her way home from school. I dragged my feet long enough so that I would get a brief moment with her before we left, back then we didn’t have mobile phones or social media, we had to rely on old fashioned methods of communication.

For some reason her face lit up when she saw we were still there, with Pete barking at me to get my arse in gear I just had time to ask her if she wanted to go to Chessington World of Adventures on Saturday, she said yes immediately. Pete was in the van with the engine revving, I could tell he was getting impatient, as I opened the door I shouted that I would pick her up at nine. Pete drove off before I had a chance to put my seatbelt on or close the door.

I hardly slept Friday night at the anticipation of spending a whole day in the company of Amy Cooper. I tried on various outfits, not that I was vain or anything but I wanted her to be proud to be with me. I should probably tell you a bit about me before I go on, I was eighteen as you know, five feet ten and slim to muscular build. I would describe my look at this time to be somewhat like Kevin Keegan – especially the hair, it was dark brown and a mass of curls down to my shoulders. I appreciate the reference to Keegan will go over the heads of younger readers, but at least now you can google it.

I wasn’t the most confident person and was still at a loss as to what Amy saw in me, she could have her pick of anyone. My upbringing was fairly normal for the times, I hardly saw my parents, and most of my time was spent at a childminders, a kind Welshwoman. I would make my way there at seven in the morning when my mum and dad left for work; the childminder was only a five minute walk away on the other side of the council estate on which we lived. Beryl – the childminder – would give me breakfast before I would walk to school, then after school I would walk back to Beryl’s three bedroomed house where my parents would pick me up any time from seven o’clock, sometimes they would be so late that they would ring Beryl and ask if she could keep me the night. The initial arrangement was Monday to Friday but over the years a Saturday crept in, then a Sunday and before too long I was there pretty much seven days a week.

As an only child I didn’t mind spending time at Beryl’s as there were other kids there to play with, plus Beryl had two children of her own, though I did find out that they weren’t really hers, they were adopted. They were called Anthony and Tracey, he was shy and introverted but I liked him, she was a bitch. Being a couple of years older than her sibling she would pick on him which sometimes appeared almost sadistic in nature. I should point out that even at a young age I had never thought of myself as a violent person, the very idea of hitting someone repulsed me.

Back to the story, at eight thirty I left our house to drive to Amy’s, though it was less than fifteen minutes I didn’t want to be late. The sun was out and the mercury was already rising, it was going to be a glorious day in more ways than one. I pulled into her road just before quarter to nine, I hesitated and let the car drift to the kerb before applying the handbrake. The danger of being too early was that I would have to wait for Amy to finish getting ready and in the meantime would have to make conversation with her parents. Not that there was anything wrong with them, they seemed lovely when I had spoken to them while we were fitting their kitchen, but this was a different matter altogether. I was an eighteen year old hormonal teen taking their innocent fourteen year old daughter out for the day, I could understand if they weren’t too happy about it.

I waited five more minutes before putting the car into gear once more and driving slowly up to the house, it certainly had kerb appeal, in fact all the houses on this private estate did, but theirs stood out more than most. It was three storey’s, the underground lower level housed their garage, the house was called ‘Cariad’ which was very apt as it was a welsh word meaning a few things but most importantly love, darling or sweetheart. It was a fairly modern house of red brick and cedar accents but appeared older. As I approached the gate I saw it slowly swing open and I pulled my car onto the driveway of block paving. I parked behind the black Range Rover with private number plates before killing the engine. My heart was racing at the prospect of seeing her, the sweaty palms were the result of nerves concerning her parents.

As it turned out I needn’t have worried about them, barely had I got out of the car when she opened the front door, she looked stunning. She turned and locked the door before she walked towards my car, I raced round to the passenger side to open it for her, she no longer had her hair in plaited ponytails, it was now just one and fell half way down her back, as usual held in place with an elastic band. She was wearing a denim skirt that finished half way between her knee and heaven, a white t-shirt and a short black leather jacket, she finished the look with a pair of white ankle boots. The t-shirt barely met the waistband of the skirt and the material wasn’t particularly thick, the outline of her white lace bra clearly visible. Her face was illuminated this morning more than I had ever seen, the sun highlighted the light patch of freckles which accentuated her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose.

I held the door as she got in, my eyes wouldn’t move from her legs as she sat down, the briefest glimpse of her white panties would get me hard for days and months to come. I raced round to my side and hopped in the driver’s seat, “Are you ready to go” I asked her.

“Can’t wait.” Her smile was infectious, if I never moved from that spot I could have been happy for the rest of my life. As I put my hand on the gear stick I was inches from her bare knee, the temptation to just slide my hand up her leg was incredible but that would have to wait a long time – I was capable of waiting as long as it was for it to be me and only me that got to go there.

She asked if she could put a cassette on as she was opening the glove box, I just smiled at her as it was obvious she was going to do exactly what she wanted anyway. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her grab the stack of cassettes, there were maybe half a dozen of my favourites, I wasn’t one to go with the crowd, I liked what I liked and if that wasn’t cool then so be it. But seeing Amy with my music in her hands I realised that maybe I should have only kept cool ones in there, to be fair there were some like The Style Council and the Police, a bit dubious was the Madonna one. The ones that set me apart from other boys my age were, Frank Sinatra Live at the Sands, and Elvis Presley. Eventually she settled on the Madonna True Blue album.

As the first track started ‘Papa Don’t Preach’ she sang along and danced in her seat, I had to confess it was hard keeping focused on my driving. The forty five minute journey to Chessington was the longest of my life and also the most enjoyable, furtive glances whenever it was safe to take my eyes from the road. Watching as her heaving chest bounced in time to the song. By the time I pulled into the car park her skirt was so high up her thigh that if I had not been sitting next to her there would have been nothing left to the imagination. As it was the bare flesh was having a profound effect on certain parts of my anatomy, I was glad that I had not chosen to wear my shell suit with its loose fitting bottoms, instead opting for jeans which would help keep everything in its place.

I should probably explain at this point that I have a fear of heights, I know probably not the ideal venue for a first date, but we

“Shut the fuck up Nursey I’m trying to write here.” The noise had slowly been rising with Nursey the most vocal.

“Why are you having a go at me when it’s that cunt next to you that’s the fucking problem, I was only telling him how what I did was best for the littl’uns, I was trying to explain to him that I would get a vibe from the mum and sometimes the dad if he could be bothered to show up that the child would have a miserable life. So I was only doing the poor bastards a favour, each and every one I sent to heaven will be waiting to thank me for taking the suffering away from them. And that was when the fucking cunt who calls himself a chef told me that I ain’t going to the place in the sky, that I would be sat next to him at Satan’s table in the very bowels of the earth.”

“Pinky, you know I’m right, all of us are going to be at the same banquet come the day of reckoning. Some of us will be lower down the pecking order, I reckon I will be his right hand while Nursey and Fiddler will be wiping his arse and shining his cock–they can choose who does what. I’ll be up there next to him helping him prepare the feast, as you know the heat won’t bother me in the slightest.” Chef answered back.

“Why should I go down there with you? I’m nothing like you lot.” Pinky said and laughed, he knew how to get them riled up and seeing as they had ruined his writing flow he thought he would have a bit of fun with them.

“Like fuck you ain’t, what you did was evil, her life had barely begun when you took it from her.” Fiddler said.

“Matthew 5:38 says and I quote ‘Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth’ so what I did was justified, she broke my heart and I broke hers, I’m not quite sure what he will say about eating it though but surely that is just a technicality. So fuck you Fiddler.”

“You forget about Matthew 5:39 and I quote ‘But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.’” Fuck you back you prick.

By now the whole block was laughing and jeering at Pinky, telling him that he is as fucked when they all meet their maker as they were. He joined in as he knew it was all in good humour, for such a bunch of despicable human beings they could be quite a good crowd to be around. He isn’t sure he would want to socialise with any of them in the outside world with the exception of Chef, and maybe The Crafter.

NINE

Sunday 4th July 1993

D.I. Price held back her emotions as she entered the chalet, it was eleven a.m. on a sweltering July morning, the sweat was already beading on her brow and still six feet from the doorway the smell had already hit her. The scene of crime officers were already here and had been since ten, a young rookie cop had been the first on the scene a little after eight-thirty that morning following reports from the reception of a complaint from the adjoining chalet.

The scene had been secured by the SOCO’s, a white tent had been erected at the entrance to the chalet, and a wider cordon covering four blocks of four chalets including the area housing the refuse bins and walkways. Also included in the cordon was the car parking area which serviced this particular chalet. P.C. Philip Thorne the first attending officer was standing at the entrance to the tent, his face ashen, he didn’t look well at all D.I. Sian Price noticed.

“Are you alright?” Her comment was directed straight at him although he barely saw her.

“Sorry, what?”

“You don’t look well son, I can get someone else in if you need to go.”

“No Ma’am I’ll be fine.” He said as he realised who he was talking to. P.C. Thorne was of average height and muscular frame, though after recent events he appeared frail. His uniform appeared a size too small with the trousers grasping to reach his shoes and sleeves a postcode away from his wrist as his muscles restricted their movement.  A mop of unruly curly brown hair and hazel eyes sunken beneath a prominent brow finished his look.

Sian could see he was visibly shaken, she knew from bitter experience what it could be like to be the first on the scene at a brutal death. “How long have SOCO been here?”

“About an hour or so, they were quick due to the nature of the crime Ma’am.”

“Can you give me your statement of events from when you got here – if you’re up to it?” She wanted to get as much information as possible while SOCO were gathering their evidence. She removed her note book and started to write as he talked.

“I got a call at 8:15am at which time I was at Station Road filling station in Ormesby, the request was to attend the Belle Vista chalet park in Hemsby and to meet the manager at chalet sixteen. I responded that I would attend and after I finished fuelling I drove to the park. Once there–it was then 8:29am–the manager told me that he had had a complaint with this chalet, it was that morning at eight o’clock when the neighbouring holiday makers reported a strange smell coming from next door, the curtains were drawn so they couldn’t see in, they tried knocking but got no reply. The manager said he had checked the log and a couple had booked in the previous afternoon and paid cash. Mrs. Heart signed, but there was no record of them signing out. The manager explained that he was not on duty the previous day so never saw the couple. The receptionist has been contacted and is due to come in this morning. The manager told me that he had tried knocking but got no answer.

I asked if he had the key for the chalet and before I asked him to unlock the door I requested that the onlookers go back into their accommodation. As the manager opened the door the smell hit me, and I instructed him to remain where he was, I shouted through the gap who I was and that I was coming in. On opening the door the scene before me was nothing like I had ever seen.” He was visibly shaken by what he had witnessed and D.I. Price knew this kid could be no more than his early twenties.

“Take a breather son, we can carry on later if you’d like, you’re doing great.” She knew that rushing him would not get the information she wanted, her colleagues were prone to harass and belittle the uniformed officers but her approach always yielded better and more reliable intel.

“No. it’s fine. I stood just inside the door and radioed in that I would need the coroner and SOCO here straight away. The body was on the breakfast bar about ten feet from the door, a quick glance around the room told me the layout consisted of the main living area, an ‘L’ shaped room with a kitchenette and the breakfast bar. Just inside the door to the left was a door leading to a bathroom, the door was open and I couldn’t see anyone in there, across the room were two further doors each leading to separate bedrooms

. Again both doors were open, and the beds were both fully made. I took out my baton and was careful where I placed my feet, I wanted to secure the scene and make sure the perpetrator was no longer there.

“Did you check the body to see if they needed help?” She was concerned that he may not have followed protocol.

“No Ma’am, it was obvious that she was beyond help, you will see what I mean when you go in. After making sure the scene was secure I came out, I made a note of where I had been in the chalet and waited for the Coroner’s office to send someone and then for SOCO. While I waited I didn’t move from the chalet, I wanted to make sure no one else entered.” He finished, his face even paler than when she had arrived if that was possible.

“You did everything you should have.” She flipped her notebook shut and walked into the tent where she was met by the lead Scene of Crime Officer, a genial man who she had worked with many times before, Ray Herbert was a stalwart of the department, he was dressed in full personal protective equipment, a Tyvek suit, gloves, overshoes and mask.

“Hi Sian, there is a set of clothes there for you if you’d like to see the scene.” His familiarity with Sian had progressed over many years, the pair had shared many horrific scenes and he knew she would want to explore the scene for herself. Not that she didn’t trust his team, she felt that pictures never did the scene justice, she wanted to see, feel, smell and hear what the victim and perpetrator would have experienced. “I should warn you, this is one of the worst, hope you didn’t have a big breakfast this morning, though it looks like the perp had his own kind of feast.” He laughed as he replaced his mask and left her to don her clothes.

Five minutes later she entered the chalet, she then understood the comment about her breakfast. A quick look showed three fully clad scene of crime officers going about collecting evidence. Her main focus was on the body laid out on the breakfast bar. Looking at the SOCO in the bathroom she asked “You finished with the body Ray?”

“Yeh, it’s all yours, I should warn you it ain’t pretty.”

“Thanks.” She walked over to the body, took out her notebook again, she started her scribbling once more. The body was female, probably late teens, naked. The chest was cut from stem to stern. The bones had been cut roughly with what she would guess were bolt cutters. The cracked and splintered bone ends told her that a saw hadn’t been used. There was no finesse, this was a hastily executed procedure.

She noted that the cavity was missing one vital element–the heart–all other organs appeared to be intact, though the post mortem would confirm that. The girl was beautiful. The position of the body was such that two thirds of the body lay on the countertop, while the legs from the bottom down were hanging over the edge. She made a note in her book to ask the pathologist to check for sexual assault as the legs were splayed out. She turned to look at the opposite work surface and this was where the real horror was.

Taking her time she scanned from one end to the other, a wooden chopping board with a ten inch cooks knife stained with blood, along with some pieces of meat. She thought to herself please don’t let that be the poor girl’s heart. Behind the chopping board were the skins of maybe half a dozen shallots and a block of butter with quarter missing. The butter had already melted and much of it had spread across the counter.

Further inspection revealed some mushroom stalks, empty double cream container and an opened bottle of Madeira fortified wine. On the gas hob was a pan with congealed sauce and a couple of pieces of meat still in it. To the right of the hob a plate with a knife and fork neatly laid across it and the plate itself cleared of all food. “Ray, did what I think happen here really happen?” She didn’t want to admit to herself what she knew to be the truth.

“It would appear so Sian, I’m no expert but the missing heart from the body and the remnants left on the board would indicate it. The sick bastard ate her heart, not just ate it but took the time to prepare a meal. And he came prepared, that knife is the best part of two hundred quid, and the pan is chef quality, what I don’t understand is the crude destruction of the rib cage with an unsuitable tool. You’ve taken the time to prepare the meal but you rush the butchering of the body, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Hopefully the pathologist will be able to give us some more insight, anything I need to know about the sick bastard that might have done this?”

“There are some partials but my guess is they’re the girls, none on the knife, cutlery or plate which would indicate he wore gloves. And why not take the knife and pan with him – was he disturbed?”

“The manager said no complaints were made last night.” She pocketed her notebook and went back out into the tent where she disrobed and headed back out into the day. P.C. Thorne had been relieved by another young officer; she nodded to him as she passed. She was glad to be out of there, the warm summer breeze filled her lungs with clean air, the stench from the chalet was a mixture of the cooked meal and the coppery scent of blood. She hoped there would be plenty of trace evidence gathered as the sick bastard needed to be caught.

There was no indication who the victim was, no I.D. was found at the scene, all they had to go on was her description, and until someone reported her missing there would be nothing more to do except find the man that perpetrated such a crime.

TEN

“What do you think Pinky? Should I do it?” Chef asked.

“Why not, I know you can’t be paid for it but at least there will be a lasting record of your exploits, you never know it could lead to a spin off cookery book.” He laughed. “What time is she due here?”

“Nine o’clock, they want me to do two three hour sessions, one this morning, then back in here for lunch, and another this afternoon. Apparently she’ll record the whole thing on video and take notes at the same time.”

“Where will you have the interview?”

“Boss man said it will take place in the old operating theatre, it’s the closest secure room. The camera will be set up when I get there and there will be a metal table bolted to the floor, to which I will be shackled both hands and feet. It won’t be the most comfortable experience but I get to spend six hours with a woman, I can imagine all the dishes I could make from her. And like you said the public will get to know me, and believe me there are more people that have my tastes than you might think. You only have to look at how popular my feast nights were, for every person sat at the table, twenty had been turned down.”

“Why did you turn people down?”

“Something about them wouldn’t feel right or I just didn’t like them, simple as that.”

“Well I think you should do it, and enjoy it. Maybe spill a few names, I know you told me I would be surprised at some of the people that attended your meals, people whose names I would recognise.”

“I always promised them that I would never reveal their identities.”

“That was then, this is now, how many have visited, how many have tried to get you out, you owe them nothing.”

“I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

It was eight thirty, with Chef gone at nine he should get quite a bit of writing done. He chatted with Chef for the next twenty-five minutes until two burly men came for him. They went through the usual ritual of securing his hands through the small hatch before they told him to move to the rear of the cell and face the wall. Once he had done as requested they unlocked the door and entered, while one attached another set of shackles to his ankles the other ran a chain between the two pairs. In less than five minutes Chef’s cell was empty and he would be gone for three hours.

Pinky took his manuscript from his desk, along with his pencils and pads. He had forgotten he had abruptly finished half way through a chapter. He went over what he had already written and started at the last paragraph.

I should probably explain at this point that I have a fear of heights, I know probably not the ideal venue for a first date, but we were here now and there was no going back. With a bit of luck Amy wouldn’t be keen on heights either, plus we had the animals to look at too. We went up to the booth to pay and Amy said she would get us both a ticket as her mum and dad had given her plenty of money. But like a gentleman I insisted on paying, today wasn’t going to cost her a penny. Working for Pete paid reasonably well for someone my age, not brilliant, but I didn’t spend my money on much so had built up a bit of a nest egg. And I was quite happy spending it all on Amy.

After a short discussion she allowed me to pay, and once through she grabbed my hand and started dragging me to the Vampire rollercoaster, her excitement was infectious, I had no idea what the ride was but the word rollercoaster conjured up one image–dangling high above the ground. We joined the end of the queue, and I was grateful that there appeared to be about a half hour wait. With some luck she wouldn’t want to wait, but as we stood in line she kept a tight hold on my hand and went on about how she had waited ages to come here and go on the ride.

For some reason I kept quiet about my fear of heights, and as we neared the time for us to get on it hit me like a bullet – I loved her, that was why I was prepared to do anything for her even if that meant overcoming my fears, if she was beside me I could accomplish anything. I remembered it like it was yesterday, we were sat in the carriage, the rail above us, in the queue she had informed me that the rollercoaster hung below the rail rather than on it. She gripped my hands in hers and I think she was as scared as I was, the thing moved and we were off, with my hand held between hers we had reached the summit and started plummeting down towards a tunnel leading underground, all of a sudden her hand went into her lap still clasping mine, I felt the bare skin of her thigh and my mind was no longer focused on the ride. I was no longer afraid.

The car came to a halt, my hand still clasped in hers though unfortunately no longer in her lap. No sooner had we exited the ride and we were off again, this time to the magic carpet ride, a large platform in the shape of a flying carpet. This was suspended on what could only be described as a large wheel, the idea was that as the wheel turned the carpet was elevated to the top, before descending back to the ground. We stood and watched while we queued, the worst bit was when it reached the top the terrified riders were held there and the carpet ever so slightly tilted forward. But with Amy by my side it would be fine, beside if it meant I got to touch her bare skin it would be worth it.

By the time we reached the front and had our ride we were both feeling a bit thirsty and hungry. I suggested that we maybe get an early lunch before everybody else, then have a wander around the animals before hitting the rides again. I thought that this way my lunch wouldn’t be in any danger of returning once we were airborne on the rides again.

We found a burger shack - this was Amy’s idea – I had never seen such a petite girl eat so much, she ordered a double burger with mushroom and bacon, large fries and a chocolate milkshake to wash it down. I had the same but there was no way I was finishing my milkshake after all that food, Amy not only finished all of hers but the third of my milkshake too.

“How do you stay so slim?” I asked. I couldn’t believe she could eat what she did and not have an ounce of fat on her.

“Good genes I guess, I’ve always been able to eat what I like.”

“How’s school?” I just wanted to keep her talking. I could listen to her all day. She had a soothing melody to her voice, she could recite the telephone book for all I cared as long as she kept talking.

“It’s okay, I do well enough, I’m hoping to go to Uni to study Forensic Science. But to do that I have to get three A-levels, which shouldn’t be a problem, or if not that I would love to do midwifery.”

“So forensic science, what’s that? Investigating crime scenes and stuff, would you really want to see dead and broken people?”

“It wouldn’t have to be like that, I could just work in a lab, you know like testing DNA and working out why someone died. It not all like you see on telly where they ask for tests to be done and then they get the results in minutes, in reality it can take weeks to get results.”

“Where will you go to Uni?” I panicked when she mentioned Uni, she would be gone and mixing with boys her own age and interests. I knew it was a bit premature, she was only fourteen and I had at least four years to make her mine for ever, I lot could happen in that time.

“Don’t know yet, it’s a long way off.” I think she sensed that I was a bit disappointed that she would be going to Uni. “What about you, what are your plans?”

“I have no idea, at the moment I’m happy working for Pete, I’m learning a trade and he has talked about sending me to college one day a week to get some qualifications. I had thought of joining the army a little while back [This was a blatant lie, the idea of going to war terrified me.] but realised that I just didn’t believe in a lot of the reasons the country goes to war over.”

“What about the police, have you never thought about joining them? I like a man in uniform.” She said.

As we sat there at the wooden bench the sun was beating down ferociously as it approached midday, I suggested that we make a move to the animal section of the park as there may be shade, we had barely stood up and started walking when she took hold of my hand. We walked like this all the way round the animals, occasionally breaking as she ran off to be the first to see the cute Red Panda, but the instant I caught up she would once more take it again.

The day was perfect; we left the park at around six and stopped for a fish supper on the way home. We ate it in my car out of the paper wrapper. She sat in the passenger seat with her right leg tucked under her left and her food in her lap, every time she shifted in her seat I got a flash of white panties as her skirt rose ever higher. I really hoped we could do this again, I was afraid to ask and yet I couldn’t bear the thought of taking her home and not knowing when I would see her again.

We disposed of the wrappers in the bin outside the chippy and set about our journey home once more, all the time I was driving I thought about asking her if we could go out again, each time I went to ask something stopped me. I didn’t know if it was the fear of rejection or the fear that she would say yes. All I knew is that I had to keep seeing her. Eventually as I pulled on to her driveway it came out. “Would you like to go out again sometime?” There it was I had said it, it was out there and there was no taking it back.

Without even thinking she replied, “We could go to the new cinema complex in Milton Keynes, it’s supposed to be brilliant, can I pick the film?”

“Of course you can, I’ll give you my number and you can call me when you want to go.” I hastily scribbled my number on the back of an old car park ticket, and included my name just in case she forgot whose number it was. She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and thanked me for an amazing day and she was gone, I watched her walk up to her front door with her key in her hand, I couldn’t help but think I knew exactly what was hidden beneath that denim skirt. I could still feel the warmth of her thigh on my hand from the rollercoaster this morning.

I drove straight home and up to my room, my parents weren’t home, and masturbated while the images of Amy were fresh in my mind, not that I thought they would ever fade.

ELEVEN

“Pinky, tell us about your childhood.” Benjamin Fitzwilliam a.k.a. The Crafter asked. It was a little after nine in the morning and for the last two days Pinky hadn’t written a word, well he had but they all ended up in the bin. He was suffering from writer’s block so was glad of the distraction.

“What do you want to know?”

“What were you like as a kid, where did you grow up, what made you turn into a cannibal?” The inmates that were awake howled with laughter, and the ones that still slept were sharply awoken.

Pinky thought about the question realising that this is what was missing from his book, the personal side of his psyche. He decided he would recount his childhood and when he was finished would put his pen once more to paper. He thought talking about it first may help him get the events into some sort of chronological order, and the addition of their questions along the way may take him to places he hadn’t visited in a long time. “So where do you want me to start? I don’t remember the day I emerged from my mum’s cunt.” He laughed at his own joke but realised it spoke volumes about his relationship with his parents.

“Start from somewhere that started to determine who you were going to be.” Chef joined in.

“Okay, from about five I remember spending very little time at home, my parents worked all hours. My mum ran her own cleaning company so was out from early morning until late at night, and my dad worked for the post office as a HGV driver so could be gone overnight or home very late. Most of my childhood up until I started work for a carpenter was spent at a childminder.”

“I didn’t know you were a carpenter.” Benjamin said.

“It was only for a couple of years but I learned a lot, but back to the story. Until I was eleven life was actually pretty good, but it was at that time that my mum started drinking, the pressure of her ever growing company started to take a strain on her and my dad. They would constantly fight, more so when she was drunk, my dad didn’t drink due to his job, he couldn’t afford to take the chance. I would spend from seven in the morning until usually nine at night or later with Beryl the childminder. Don’t get me wrong she was lovely, a small Welshwoman who looked after so many kids there was always someone to play with. And it meant I didn’t have to listen to the arguments at home.

Some weekends I would also end up staying there, I would be the only one though. It was also when Beryl and her husband Ken adopted their second child. They already had an adopted daughter Tracey who was about two when Anthony was bought into the household. Things changed when he arrived, I felt like a burden to them. I was practically living there by this time and the house wasn’t big enough. It was also the time when I moved from junior school which I loved and had to move up to the ‘Big’ one. It was a three mile walk and all new people, my friends from my current school ended up going to different secondary schools, so although some went to the same one as me they weren’t really friends.”

“I bet you were a goody two shoes at school weren’t you Pinky?” Chef asked.

“I suppose so, I was very shy at school, even more so at secondary school. The first couple of years weren’t too bad to be honest, I knuckled down, done my work and kept out of trouble – for the most part anyway.”

“What’s this? Mr Perfect was a naughty boy.” Marcus Reed a.k.a. Fiddler decided to join the conversation.

“Ha ha Fiddler, not so much naughty but there was an incident that I think changed the course I was destined for. I need to go back a little bit, when I started the second year I had been moved up to the top class for English and found myself sitting in the desk next to Yvette Cranston. She was a vision and I was a hormonal twelve year old whose body was beginning to change. I fell deeply in love with Yvette, her dark hair, hazel eyes and crooked teeth instantly attracted me. She would sit there in her school uniform of white blouse, and navy blue pleated flowing skirt. Her look was finished off with white socks, black shoes and the school’s navy blazer with motif on the breast pocket. Her blouse was thin enough that the cut of her bra was visible, I could only imagine what lay beneath.”

“This is getting good, carry on, it would be better if she was a young boy but I’ll take my kicks where I can get them these days.” Fiddler said.

“Shut up Fiddler, do you wanna hear the story or not?”

“Go on Pinky, we’re listening.” Chef said.

“I looked forward to every English lesson from that moment on, I never told anyone that I liked her, that wasn’t strictly true my best friend Steven knew but only because he guessed after the way I would look at her. Anyway back to the incident, at the time the dinner ladies were on strike and we were not allowed to be on school premises during lunch break so a group of us would go to a friend’s house who lived a short walk from the school. There would generally be seven of us – me, Paul, Michael. Roger, Steven, Jason and Nick whose house it was.

This one day towards the end of the school year so must have been about May time. I remember the walk from the school to Nick’s house like it was yesterday. Three boys walked behind us, they were the school bullies – Justin, Alan and Nathan. Justin was the leader and the other two followed like sheep, the road from the school was a straight one to Nick’s house and all the way Justin kept picking berries from any bush that had them and flicked them at us.

We all thought that when we reached Nick’s house they would carry on wherever they were going and leave us alone–but we couldn’t have been more wrong. Nick unlocked the door and we went in, and before we knew it the three of them had pushed past Nick and the rest of us and went and sat in the sitting room, Justin sat with his feet up on the paisley print three seat sofa, Nathan had his legs draped over the arm of the single chair and Alan stood looking out the window. I remember Nick looked scared shitless, this was his parents’ home after all. The six of us looked at each other and decided the safest course of action was to let things take a natural course.”

“Why didn’t you tell them to fuck off, there were six of you and three of them?” Babyface asked. His voice so soft Pinky barely heard him.

“If it had just been Nathan and Alan we would have, but Justin was known to have a violent temper. Anyway they asked us all what we had for lunch as none of them hadn’t bought anything, they ended up eating most of what the six of us had, then Justin made a strange request. He asked Nick if he had a cassette recorder and a blank tape. Not wanting to antagonise them he duly retrieved one and a pack of blank C60 cassettes, while he was doing this Justin was wilfully rifling through the drawers on the sideboard. I remembered he opened the cupboard at the bottom and he uttered what could only be described as a ‘girly shriek’ after which he started waving a gun around, what we didn’t know was that it was a starter pistol.

With the tape recorder set in front of him he inserted a blank cassette, then waving the gun he pointed it at me and I will never forget his words ‘Pinky, we have a little surprise for you, Nick here helped us out’ as he said it he placed his arm around Nick’s shoulder. The smirk on what I thought was my friend’s face told a different story–one of treachery–I was thankful that the others looked as shocked as I was. Justin retrieved a folded piece of paper from his trouser pocket and carefully unfolded it.”

“What was on the bit of paper Pinky, go on tell us?” Fiddler just couldn’t resist the chance to interrupt.

“I’m getting to it; Justin told me he wanted me to read it aloud into the tape recorder. He handed me the sheet of paper and I read it to myself, I told him I wouldn’t read it out, at which point he cocked the gun and placed it against my temple. I can still feel the cold steel and how the fear seeped throughout my body, a small amount of piss escaped and I had never been so scared. I took the piece of paper and Justin set the cassette player recording. I read the script word for word. I’ll try to recite it for you but it was a long time ago, though certain aspects will stay with me to the grave.

‘Dear Yvette, I have admired you for a long time. I love your hair and the way you smell. I watch you when you walk, the way your body moves. When you sit down I imagine running my hands under your skirt and touching you in your most private parts. I love your breasts and the way they go up and down when you laugh, I really want to kiss and caress them. I know you are way out of my league and you would never look twice at a boy like me which is why I have made this tape for you. I will be yours forever, love and nipple kisses, Pinky.’

Well that was one of the most embarrassing things I had ever done and thought that it could not get any worse–but again I was so wrong.” Pinky said, the trembling in his voice evident at the recollection of that traumatic event.

“What could be worse Pinky?” Chef asked, clearly concerned for his friend.

“The rest of the lunch-break was uneventful; Justin and his crew went soon after carrying the tape with them and left me with the permanent reminder of the sheet of paper with those dreaded words sprawled across it. Nick never said a word in his own defence, but I knew from that day I would never forgive him. The long walk back to school was tortuous, all they talked about was what had happened, they kept asking if that was what I really thought about Yvette, I told them no but inside I knew every word in that ‘love letter’ was true and I just hoped that she never heard it.

In the afternoon we had two lessons, the first was Maths which I loved and the second was Science which wasn’t too bad. The best part of the science lesson was that Yvette was in my class, she sat in the row behind me. The classroom was laid out in four long rows of worktop; each station on the bench had a gas tap to plug the Bunsen burner in. My science partner was Jason, we all called him Dougal after the Magic Roundabout character due to his mass of strawberry blonde hair which covered half his face. I was forever dropping things in science lessons and Jason used to rile me about it, what he didn’t know was that if the angle was right and Yvette was sitting on her stool I could see right up he skirt, it would only be a briefest of glimpses but on many occasions I had seen the colour of her panties and imagined what lay beneath. But this day was going to be different, the lesson progressed as normal, I can’t remember what experiment we did but I kept trying to sneak a peek at Yvette when she wasn’t looking, I forgot to mention that Justin was also in the class, he sat on the very last row, and although he was a trouble maker he was also very clever which endeared him to many of the teachers.

This one teacher in particular–Mr Wilko–looked a lot like Johnny Ball from the kids science shows of the day with his wild grey hair. Mr Wilko liked Justin for some bizarre reason and ten minutes before the end of the lesson and home-time he walked up to the front to where Mr Wilko was sat reading his paper. Justin leaned down, whispered to him and handed him something. Three minutes before the end he placed a cassette recorder on the desk and inserted a tape, not dissimilar to the one I had a bad experience with earlier that day.”

“Surely the teacher wouldn’t play your love letter?” Chef was astounded that this kind of thing would have been tolerated even back in the eighties.

“Yes, while I sat there with Yvette sat directly behind me the tape started. I felt worse for her than I did for myself, at least I knew what was coming, she was about to be blindsided. As I heard my voice coming from the front of the classroom I felt my cheeks burning up, the urine wanted to flow but I was certain I would not add anymore embarrassment to the proceedings. I barely heard the jeering and the laughing, all I could think about was what Yvette was doing, was she blushing like I was, was she mortified, had she ever thought about me the same way? Loads of question went through my head, anything other than listening to my own voice and the laughter. At the end of the lesson I stayed in my seat until everyone had gone, then I took my time walking to Beryl’s using a different route which would add about fifteen minutes to my journey but it meant I wouldn’t have to use the front gates where I was sure people would be waiting to take the piss.”

“Why would the teacher do that?” Chef asked.

“Apparently Justin told him that I wanted the tape played because I didn’t have the guts to ask her out, he thought he was doing me a favour. He did apologise to me on the following Monday morning, I saw him as I walked in through the gates, it was as if he had been waiting for me. I bear no malice towards him.” Pinky finished, he realised that this was going to make a fantastic chapter in his book, an event that he had put to the back of his mind but one he knew had shaped a big part of who he was.

TWELVE

Sunday 4th July 1993

D.I. Price arrived back at the station on Caister High Street around one-thirty, she was hoping to catch a second chat with the young PC Philip Thorne. First she wanted to check he was alright, second she had a couple of follow up questions for him. She entered the building and the desk PC buzzed her through, the station was one big maze of corridors each one painted in a drab grey with doors in a darker version of the same. She passed the CID office and headed to the break room where she had been informed her young rookie PC could be found. Sure enough the room was empty except for a lone figure sat at the furthest table. The smell of curry was fresh in the air and for some reason it made her nauseous.

“Do you mind if I sit?” She asked.

“No Ma’am.” He hadn’t needed to look up to see who was speaking; he recognised her voice from earlier. As she took the seat opposite he pushed his meal to one side untouched. It appeared cold and he had moved stuff around the plate but had eaten very little if any.

“Don’t stop eating on my account.” She told him.

“It’s OK I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

“I know the feeling, was that your first crime scene? How old are you anyway?”

“I’m 22 Ma’am, yes that was my first murder scene, I’ve been to RTA’s that are bad but never anything like today.”

“Are you new here, it’s just I haven’t seen you around here before?”

“I just transferred here from Cambridgeshire; I’ve been a PC for nearly eighteen months. What I saw today I thought was only on TV, of course I know there are bad crimes but what went on in that chalet was beyond anything I could have imagined.” He said.

“I just have a couple of follow up questions if you’re up to it?”

“Sure.”

She flipped through her notebook and came to the spot she was looking for. “You said the manager told you he had received a complaint that morning about a smell coming from the room and that it was a neighbouring chalet. Did you speak to any of the residents in the other chalets?”

“No Ma’am, my priority was the crime scene, I thought other officers would be interviewing the witnesses, was that wrong? Should I have gone to see them?” He was flustered and she felt sorry for him, that hadn’t been her intent.

“No son, you were right to stay at the scene, it’s just the follow up officers spoke to all the residents in the block and none of them reported a strange smell, my question is was there anyone loitering around the chalets when you got there?”

“No Ma’am, a couple of residents emerged from the other chalets once myself and the manager arrived on the scene, but I saw them come out so they were obviously staying there. Apart from that there was nothing suspicious.”

“Thank you. Just one more, did you touch anything inside the chalet? This is a standard question it just helps SOCO eliminate prints and fibres from you. For example if you touched the handle to the bathroom they would run the prints against yours first to save wasting time.”

“I don’t think so but I can’t say one hundred percent, I’m sorry. Do we know who she is yet?”

“No, someone will be missing her before too long; I don’t envy meeting the family. It is the worst part of the job. Sorry that’s not your problem, if you need to talk my door is always open, don’t bottle things up the job really isn’t worth it.” She got up and headed towards the door. She was a striking woman, shoulder length wavy black hair. Her catwalk model frame always ensured her clothes hung perfectly, navy blue trouser suit with white blouse and she walked with a confidence many of her male colleagues found intimidating. As she walked from the room she could feel the young lad watching her, she knew she was attractive and never failed to use any resource at her disposal to get what she wanted.

At twenty-nine she had been married once for less than a year but had no children, she had always been a career woman, progressing up the ranks quickly after she joined at eighteen. Not an easy task in a male dominated world as it was back then, she suffered sexual harassment from her peers. A few years after she joined, when she was twenty-one her boss who was in his fifties cornered her in his office one day. He proceeded to assault her stopping short of full on rape when she informed him that if he didn’t stop he wouldn’t have to be worry about being reported, that he would be too worried trying to explain why his dick had been bitten off. A week later he had taken early retirement and a new boss had taken over. She had never told anyone the story though there were urban myths relating to her and her rise to where she was.

She had been offered further promotions but had decided to stay at her present rank, she felt that any higher up the ladder and she would be drowned in paperwork, what she liked was being out at crime scenes. She had a strong stomach and she saw it as a challenge to find the perpetrator as quickly as possible, she had an exceptional conviction rate.

She knew with her current case it was now a waiting game, first she had to wait for the forensics to come back and from experience she knew it could be weeks, next was finding out who the victim was. They would run her prints as a matter of course but unless she had a criminal conviction or worked for certain institutions then the likelihood of finding out seemed unlikely. She headed back to her office, unlike her colleagues hers had no hints about who she was–no photos or personal items even her mug was plain white. The only indication that this was her office was the plaque on the door announcing DI Sian Price.

She sat at her desk and logged on to the system, her porthole to all the crimes she was currently investigating. It was nine before she left for the evening, she walked through the corridors, most of the staff had gone and many rooms were in darkness. She rarely left the building before seven-thirty and it was more likely to be after nine. She said bye to the desk sergeant and headed out to the car park, there were just four cars left, the squad cars were in the compound at the rear of the building.

Her car stood out, it was the one extravagance in her life a bright orange Porsche 911 Carrera 3.2litre. She inserted the key in the lock and settled into the seat, she loved this car. She had bought it second hand five years ago with only nine thousand miles on the clock and had fallen in love with it the second she turned the key for the first time. As she started the car it still gave her the same thrill it did that first time.

The engine roared as she pulled out of the car park, the drive home she could do in her sleep and took about fifteen minutes. She lived in a flat just behind Marine Parade in Great Yarmouth, it had originally been a terraced house which was converted years ago into two flats. Sian lived in the upper flat which had the benefit of the attic room as well as very spacious living accommodation. The parking was all resident permit so she had no trouble finding a spot to reverse her baby into; she retrieved a folder from her passenger seat and took it with her. The shared front door led to a hallway, two post boxes were mounted on the wall to the left, the lock broken years ago she pulled it open and retrieved her mail. She headed up the stairs to her front door.

The flat was very modern–minimalist is probably the best description– the front door opened out into a large white spacious living area, to the right was the open plan kitchen with breakfast bar, she couldn’t help but be reminded of the crime scene from  this morning. To the far end a corridor led to the two bedrooms and bathroom and in the far left hand corner a spiral staircase led to the attic room. This was where she went before doing anything, she took the steps two at a time and once in the attic room she placed the folder she still carried on the desk. Over three-quarters of the space was empty, most of what was here was crammed into the small area with the desk and evidence board she had set up.

She went back down realising that she hadn’t eaten anything since that morning, on her way to the kitchen she put on her Philips Hi-Fi system, she thumbed through her modest vinyl collection and retrieved one of her favourites–Kind of Blue by Miles Davis, the cover featured the man himself blowing on his trumpet. As the music started she went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, apart from the half dozen bottles of Pinot Grigio there was very little else. She took two eggs, the last three slices from a packet of chorizo and she found a couple of mushrooms from the salad drawer at the bottom, these had certainly seen better days. In a glass jug she broke the eggs, added the sliced mushrooms, chorizo, a bit of salt and pepper and set it to one side. In the small frying pan she heated a knob of butter before adding the egg mixture. In less than five minutes she was sitting on the sofa with her hastily made omelette and the chilled Pinot in a large glass. The white sofa faced the open fireplace, the strange thing about her apartment was that there was no television, she had never had any interest in watching the shows her colleagues went on and on about like they were real. She had lost count of the endless conversations she had overheard concerning characters in Coronation Street and Eastenders. The reverence with which these actors were held baffled her.

With her plate pushed to one side she went over the events of the day in her head, from her arrival at the scene and her interaction with PC Philip Thorne to her exploration of the horrific scene itself. There was one thing that she was missing and she didn’t know what it was, she felt sorry for the young PC, she knew he would not be getting any sleep tonight. She walked through the chalet in her mind, her eyes closed and Miles’ ‘Freddie Freeloader’ played in the background. The body had lain prone over the end of the breakfast bar, the legs splayed. Had he had sex with her? Was it consensual? Why did she check in alone, and did he meet her at the chalet? She flicked through her notebook and it hit her. She rushed up the stairs and grabbed the file off the desk, she opened it to her copy of the statement from Rebecca Scoles–the receptionist that had been on duty the night Mrs Heart had checked in. She read the statement half a dozen times and realised she would have to talk to the receptionist again tomorrow.

Was it just an oversight? Was she mistaken? It could be any number of reasons but from her experience witnesses never usually offered information that they weren’t asked for. Sian recalled when she talked to Rebecca she made a comment about Mrs Heart’s striking blue eyes, yet the crime scene photo’s clearly showed coffee coloured eyes on the victim in the chalet. Whoever picked up the keys and signed in was not the victim, all along she had assumed the perpetrator was male but this shed new light on things, was it possible that a woman could have created the scene in the chalet? She found it hard to stomach if it was.

She placed the folder back on the desk and went back down stairs to her wine, she took a swig from the glass and saw that the clock told her it was 12:05am. She went to the shower and switched it on, the room quickly filled with steam as she removed her clothes before stepping into the cubicle. The hot water hit her as she placed her face to the streaming jets; she had to talk to Rebecca and decided that she would swing by the holiday park before work on the off chance she was working. If the woman who checked in didn’t commit the crime, then she had no idea who had.

She dried herself and wrapped a towel round her head, she walked to the bed naked with her glass still in her hand, she crawled beneath her white cotton sheets and placed the now finished glass on the bedside table. Her night was filled with broken sleep and nightmares, the worst was when she woke at 3am in a cold sweat, she had been awake as a table full of guests ate from her open naked body.

THIRTEEN

Chapter 5

I think that it is time I took you back a bit further. I’ve told you the story of Yvette Cranston, well this story goes back about a year and a half further. It was the first week of a new school, the walk up to the front gates was daunting. All the big kids were stood around–some smoking openly–I kept my head down and walked past everybody, I noticed a couple of other kids that looked like they were new and I followed them. I knew we had to meet in the assembly hall but where that was I had no idea.

In the hall there was a mass of bodies, all shapes and sizes and ethnic orientation, a large voice boomed from the stage at the far end. It came from a beast of a man, he must have been six feet four easily and he had a full face of hair. I had never seen such a sight, and he told us to check the charts on the wall and that there was one on each side and when you found your name you were to stay on that side. I was lucky and found my name on the second wall, there was one girl though who appeared to have checked all the charts and had not found her name, I thought she was going to burst into tears.

Eventually a teacher went up to her and it turned out that she was a late admission and had not been assigned a class yet. My tutor was a man called Mr Pope, a young olive skinned man wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. He finished his look with tinted glasses and slicked back black hair. We also found out that our house name was Saxon; the others were Norman, Celts & Danes. Mr Pope led us down a narrow corridor, the first door was one of the boys changing rooms, the next was the girls and the third and final door was our form room.

It was a long narrow room with just a single window high up at the far end, ten feet long by one foot high but the bank of overhead fluorescents gave ample light. The walls were adorned with artwork by previous students, also a board which had our names on and lots of stars ready to be placed next to our names should we merit them. We were asked to pick a seat and that it would be ours for the rest of the year, I picked a table midway down the room to the left and sat down, a short chubby boy sat next to me and introduced himself as Steven. The rest of the day was pretty normal and I remembered thinking that maybe secondary school wouldn’t be so bad.

The incident I want to tell you about happened the following day; our last lesson of the day was football. I loved football and had looked forward to it all day; the changing room was the one near my form room. I got changed into my games kit and was really excited as I was quite a good footballer. I knew some of the boys were bigger and stronger but I was fast and nimble with the ball and being left footed put a lot of other players off. Out on the field I proved that I was in the top six players, I scored one goal and helped with a second, a couple of the players weren’t very happy, they obviously hated any physical activity. One of them was called Justin Pilcher, luckily he wasn’t in my form and this was the first lesson I had come across him.

In the changing rooms after a very good lesson we were all told to head to the showers, I went as white as a ghost, I hadn’t realised we would all have to shower together, one boy in the corner tried just putting his uniform back on and was told to strip and hit the showers – no exceptions. I stripped and grabbed my towel, many of the boys brazenly walked to the communal shower and I noticed that they were far more developed than I was. A couple even had a mass of pubic hair, I had none so far, and my penis was very immature compared to many. I rushed into the shower leaving my towel as close as I could without it getting wet. Thirty seconds and I was out with my towel wrapped around my waist. I thought I had made it, I could slip my pants on under my towel and the get dressed and go home but Justin had other ideas. He was one of the boys who had matured early, he stood there in front of me naked as the day he was born.

I’ll never forget his words that day, ‘What’s that towel hiding, ’cos I didn’t see anything worth covering up when you were in the shower’. If these words were uttered by anyone other than Justin they would be called ‘Gay boy’ or ‘Homo’ but from Justin they elicited a mass of laughter and soon a small group had gathered round me. Justin then grabbed my towel and whipped it away, I used my hands to cover myself but two of the other boys yanked my arms leaving me exposed. Justin laughed and waved his little finger in the air shouting ‘My pinky finger is bigger than his dick – look’.

From that day on I was never called by my given name, I would forever be known as ‘Pinky’. As the years went on I got used to it and it never really bothered me, until I look back and remember why I have the name. It is amazing how a small incident early in life can shape the rest of your journey. Even today when someone asks my name I’ll tell them ‘Pinky’ it’s as if these days I wear it as a badge of honour. People I meet now have no idea why I have the name and it has become part of who I am.

Although many incidents happened to me at school, in some sick and twisted way I enjoyed the experience. It made me what I am today – good and bad. Now if you were to ask my parents how my school life was they would tell you that I was an average student. What they would actually mean is that they took little to no interest in my academic endeavours, parents evening would be attended by either my mum or my dad, never both. I would hear them fighting over who would go, one would say they went last year then the other would say that they had done the two before that.

I remember the last one I attended. I was in the final year of school and getting ready to take my ‘O’ levels, yes I know they call them GCSE’s now, but back them if you were smart you took ‘O’ levels and if you were as thick as shit you took CSE’s and few ‘special’ students took something completely different almost like a certificate just to let people know they did actually attend school. This particular night my dad took me, he wore his best suit, his hair was slicked back with so much oil Greenpeace would have protested about the effects on the environment and the aftershave was so strong it was as much as I could do not to throw up on the drive to the school.

We arrived at the school late as usual, and until we reached the last teacher-my form tutor Miss Nicholson - everything had been fairly smooth running. We had spent the obligatory three to four minutes with each of my teachers, my dad acted interested but his eyes kept wandering, a couple of times girls would catch my eye and mouth the words ‘is your dad a perv?’ after they had caught him eyeing them up and down. One particular girl Nikki Phelps had the unfortunate attribute of huge breasts, almost like Dolly Parton. Last year she had a boob reduction as it was beginning to affect her back. Well my dad couldn’t take her eyes off her, even when she blatantly stared back at him. All he did was lean over to me and whisper that I ‘should get myself a bit of that’ and nodded in her direction.

That wasn’t even the most embarrassing part of the evening. No that was still to come. I should explain about my form tutor before I go on any further, Miss Nicholson. All of the boys in her class had had a wet dream over her at some point, and she would be a regular in most of our spank banks. She was about five feet six, slim with long blonde hair and the bluest of eyes. Most days in class she wore a short black skirt and tight red t-shirt. If this wasn’t enough to drive the boys wild she refused to wear a bra, although she didn’t have large breasts what she did have was perfectly formed and there was always that slight protuberance from her nipple. One extremely cold day the heating had broken, and we had barely sat down in the class when we were told that the school would be closing until the heating was fixed and that we should all go home, but before we went we were treated to every boys dream, her coat was open and there before us was what could only be described as a bullet poking out from her jumper.

Back to the night in question and me and my dad started to make our way over to the table where Miss Nicholson was sitting. She was in her trademark red and black, and with the table the way it was arranged as we approached we could see her bare legs under the table. At just the right moment she decided to cross her legs and I had the briefest flash of red panties, I don’t know if my dad saw it too but it is something I can still remember to this day.

We sat down across the table from Miss Nicholson and she briefly looked at her notes before starting to tell my dad what a good student I was. She mentioned to him that at times I could be a little distracted in class, and appeared to disappear into my own little word. Although I listened to every word she said my dad didn’t hear a thing. He had a puppy dog look on his face and appeared to nod at everything she said. If this had been a cartoon his tongue would be hanging from his mouth, his heart would be beating from his chest and there would be little cherubs firing arrows at him. I heard her ask my dad if he had any questions and he just carried on staring at her. I had never been so embarrassed in my life; I had to see her tomorrow in lessons. She repeated her question and it jolted my dad back to reality, without a word he stood up and grabbing me he said to her ‘I’m really sorry but we have to go’ and with that he dragged me out of the hall and to the car.

He never said another word to me that night.

FOURTEEN

Another day and another chance to write a chapter of his book all being good in the block. After his confessional a couple of days ago the other inmates had appeared to warm to him especially Rowena Milton a.k.a. Nursey. They had never really seen eye to eye, one thing most criminals agree on is that crimes against children are just wrong, that there was never any justification for it. For this reason and this reason alone Pinky had taken an instant dislike to her the moment she walked into her cell. He’d seen the same television footage as everybody else, this rather meek, timid looking lady had killed babies, no one was sure how many and Rowena herself could only hazard a guess.

In the eight years that she has been incarcerated Pinky had probably had a dozen or so meaningful conversations with her. Yet this morning he heard her say something, after asking her to repeat it she said the following, “Pinky, I got to say my admiration for you has gone up tenfold”. To say he was taken aback would be an understatement.

“Why Nursey?”

“To admit to something so degrading and shameful, not to mention humiliating to all of us shows us that you have a vulnerable side. Believe it or not we all do.” The last sentence was uttered more as an afterthought and at half volume.

“You have a vulnerable side?” His tone was harsh, harsher than he had intended, but his biased vision of her was of her suffocating new born babies until all life had been extinguished. Many of the other’s jeered and told Pinky to give it to her. “Sorry Nursey I didn’t mean it to come out like that, but you understand why I find it hard to imagine you with a tender side, don’t you?”

“Pinky, and the rest of you sorry excuses for human beings, I believe we all have stories to tell, stories that we would rather keep well and truly hidden. But yesterday Pinky allowed us a glimpse of what made him act the way he did.”

“So what’s your story Nursey?” Chef asked, Pinky heard a slight sense of empathy in his words.

“You don’t wanna hear my story, it’s a cliché for one, and besides you’ve all made your mind up about me–‘I’m the baby killer who should be rotting in hell, not mixing with the likes of you lot, am I right?”

“Too right Nursey.” Fiddler said.

“You’re a fine one to talk Fiddler, let her have her say. Go on Nursey, so what is your story.” Pinky asked.

“People have always been fixated with how many babies I killed, and why I killed them. No one ever saw it from the baby’s point of view. I wish someone had been around like me when I was born.” She started.

“You mean you wish someone had killed you when you were born?” Chef interrupted.

“That is exactly what I mean.”

“Because it meant you wouldn’t have killed all those innocent young things?” Fiddler interrupts this time.

“Not at all, the fact that I wasn’t killed at birth meant I was able to help all those babies and stop them going through what I went through. I was abused by my mother and father from as young as I can remember. My earliest memories are from about the age of five, the one I will tell you about is just one of many. What I am going to tell you happened about four or five times a week until I was fifteen.

My parents were social animals, there would always be a group of people round the house most nights. These groups were two distinct gatherings, not always the same people in each group but I would know what sort of night it would be when certain guests arrived. I would pray for Peter Naysmith to turn up, he was my dad’s drug dealer friend. These nights I would be safe, it meant it was an evening of drinking, smoking, snorting and singing. I would sit at the top of the stairs from around five-thirty listening for the doorbell. If I saw Peter standing at the door with his trademark satchel, open toed sandals and hippy multi-coloured tie-dyed top I knew I could retreat to my bedroom and the evening would be OK.

If Dr and Mrs Conelton turned up I would go and hide under my bed. Dr Conelton was the family physician, it was in the days when you had a local doctor and he would be the one you would see every time, unlike today when it is pot luck which doctor you see. He was an obese man with a drinker’s nose and hands the size of shovels. These were the nights when my innocence was taken piece by piece. The night I’m going to tell you about wasn’t the worst by any stretch of the imagination but was one of the most memorable for a couple of reasons.

The first was that my mum wasn’t there which was unusual, she was worse than my dad for the abuse, what got her off was inflicting pain, whether that was cigarette burns or slaps it didn’t matter to her. The second memorable thing from that night was the introduction of a new member to the group the Reverend Brian Simmons. Apparently he christened me when I was a baby. A thin wiry timid man, he turned up at the house that night in his full vicar’s garb as he had come straight from one of his sick parishioners. I forgot, there was a third reason why I remember it so vividly–It was my eighth birthday.

I heard the bell ring a half dozen times that night and each time I crawled further under my bed until I heard my dad’s familiar footsteps on the bare treads of the stairs. I heard him walk across the floorboards of my room before he crouched down by my bed and said the immortal words ‘they’re waiting for you darling’. At which point I was expected to crawl out from under the bed and go with him quietly. This night was different, he had to drag me screaming and kicking from under the bed. I squirmed in his arms as he carried me down the stairs, my nightdress was rising up my body and I desperately tried to pull it back down. I remember my dad laughing at my attempt at modesty.

He put me down as he entered our front room, it was the largest room in the house and a smoke haze had already started to accumulate at my eye-line. In the room was a sideboard that ran down the right hand wall, the carpet was so stained I had forgotten what the original colour or pattern was. There was a large beige corner sofa in the far corner on which sat four men, three I knew and one I didn’t. Then there were two arm chairs separated by a coffee table and a further two men occupied these, the Doctor and the Reverend. It appeared it was to be men’s night tonight. I can still remember standing there with all those eyes on me and the warm liquid trickling down my leg. Many of the men had their hands in their trousers, the Doctor was more open he had his fly undone and was openly stroking his penis. My dad knelt beside me and pointed at the doctor and said I should go and give him a hand before nudging me across towards him.

Over the next five hours I performed fellatio on each and every one of the men including my dad, had things inserted in every orifice from fingers, cocks and bottle necks. I had a black eye where one of the men I didn’t know punched me when he forced my head onto his penis and I bit down hard on it–he left shortly after with a black eye of his own from my dad. Around eleven most of them were too drunk to notice when I crept from the room, except the vicar, he looked at me with eyes that were dead. I heard about a week later that he had been found hanging in his garage from one of the rafters, a crudely fashioned noose around his neck.

As I said at the beginning this was a regular occurrence, the doctor was present at pretty much every one, and he performed my first abortion when I was eleven. By the time I was fifteen he had performed a further six. I don’t want your sympathy but I do want you to understand that when I was a midwife I got to know families very well, often in their own homes. And I would get a sense of what kind of people they were, of the thousands of babies I delivered a very small proportion were going to be born into bad families. I don’t just mean ‘bad’ they were bad to the core, I could see it in their eyes the way I had seen it in my parents eyes. These were the children I chose to save.” She didn’t utter another word and neither did anyone else. There were no questions, no jibes, no taunts, just silence.

Pinky looked down at his pad and realised he had written some words down–‘I understand now’. He sat there for the next hour just staring at his pad, he realised that his story was unremarkable compared to Nursey’s. In his heart he had always felt justified for his treatment of Amy Cooper, now he realised that others had been through much worse. He had always thought that Nursey-Rowena was bad, and if you cut her in half the word evil would run the length of her body like a stick of Blackpool rock. Now though he saw a side he didn’t think was possible, a compassionate woman, that isn’t to say that what she did wasn’t evil–it was. His brain now processed that what she did was out of love and a lack in the system to safeguard against child cruelty which was understandable after what she was put through on a daily basis.

After today’s revelations from Rowena he decided he wouldn’t judge anyone else before he had all the facts, however when it came to Fiddler he knew he was evil, he molested and abused young boys for his own gratification, by his own admission he performed acts on boys as young as nine purely for his own sexual needs.

Pinky spent the rest of the day not writing; instead he jotted down notes for the remainder of his book in the hope he could make it more dramatic. He wanted people that read his novel to applaud him for his actions and not condemn him. He has never wavered from his opinion that all his actions were justified. From his deceit to lure her to the holiday park, the use of a friend to distance himself from the crime scene all the way through to the gourmet meal he prepared for himself.

FIFTEEN

Friday 9th July 1993

Eight fifteen and DI Sian Price parked her car in the staff car park; the sun was already radiating through the windscreen, she’d be glad to get out of the car. She locked it and walked toward the building where she spotted PC Philip Thorne chatting to a young female PC, DI Price could see the attraction of her, she was petite, feminine and pretty in an unconventional way. She acknowledged both as she passed them, before entering the lobby where she was buzzed through by the PC on the desk.

On entering the CID room her boss was waiting for her, he stood in his doorway and beckoned for her to join him, he was a robust man in his late fifties–an old school copper. “Close the door please Sian.” He asked as she entered his sparse office, for an officer of over thirty years DCI Higgins gave nothing away with personal photos or trinkets, aside from his qualifications there was nothing to declare this as his office. His desk was filled with ongoing case files, one of which he held in his hands, that of the girl from the chalet. “Take a seat; we believe we may have the identity of the Jane Doe from the holiday park.” He took a quick look at the file before carrying on. “We believe her to be an eighteen year old by the name of Amy Cooper, her parents reported her missing a couple of days ago when she failed to return from a short break away.”

“Have they identified the body as their daughter?” She asked.

“No, that is what I have called you in for, they can’t make it up here but we have set it up so that an informal ID can take place over video link, if they identify the body as that of Amy Cooper then we will take swabs to compare DNA to make certain.”

“Isn’t this a bit unusual?”

“Yes, but the father is recovering from heart surgery and the stress of the travelling… and under the circumstances we felt this would be a better option. Which is where you come in, I’d like you to travel down to Hertfordshire to set up the link, and if necessary take the required samples. As this happened on our patch I feel that it is the least we can do, I thought about getting one of the local force down there to do the link but I want one of my own there, at least I can rest assured it will be done sensitively. You know how she was found, you can empathise with the family like no one else can. I’ve got a young PC to drive you down there. He looked at his notes once more, his name is Philip Thorne, he will meet you in the car pool at around nine.”

“Yes sir, I would be glad too, it is the least they deserve. One question sir, why PC Philip Thorne?” She said.

“I asked the duty sergeant for a PC and he was the one I was given. Why, is there a problem with him?”

“No sir, it’s just he was the responding officer to the scene at the chalet park that’s all.”

“I can request someone else if you’d prefer.”

“No sir, it’ll be fine, he seems like a nice young man.” She said as she got up from her seat and retreated from the office. This wasn’t quite how she had pictured her day turning out, it was one aspect of her job she hated, being with the ones left behind after the loss of a loved one, even more so when it was a child. And at just eighteen Amy Cooper was still just that–a child. She spent the next twenty minutes gathering up everything she would need for the video link and the possible DNA recovery that would ensue. She was glad she had chosen to wear light clothes today, a pale grey linen suit consisting of knee length skirt, jacket and a white blouse.

At five past nine she emerged from the building to find PC Thorne standing next to an unmarked Vauxhall Cavalier. She watched him as she walked over, noticing how his eyes strayed from her eyes to her legs and back again with a slight delay at her breasts. She smiled to herself inside thinking that at thirty she could still turn the eye of a lad barely out of his teens.

“Morning Ma’am.” He said as he took the bag from her and placed it in the boot before quickly returning to open the passenger door for her.

“Morning PC Thorne.” She replied, she noticed how he waited for her to get comfortable before shutting the door and scuttling round to the driver’s side.

“I believe we are driving down to Hertfordshire, can I ask why Ma’am.” He asked.

“Firstly, today you can cut all this Ma’am crap, it’s Sian, and is it OK if I call you Philip? Secondly, yes we are driving to the family home of the girl from the chalet, we believe she is an eighteen year old named Amy Cooper and I am going down to conduct a video link to establish ID.” She watched as the colour drained from his face, she knew it was going to be hard for him as he was the first on the scene and it was something that would never leave him. The sight of her open on that breakfast bar would be indelibly etched on both their brains. “If you’d rather not go I would understand, I can see if I can get a replacement.” She said.

“No, it’s fine, I won’t have to see her parents though will I? I can stay in the car?” There was a scared tone to his question and her heart went out to him.

“No Philip, it will just be me going in, you can stay in the car, think of yourself as just the chauffeur today. OK?”

“OK Ma’am, sorry, Sian.” With that settled they set off.

“I have the address here, we need to head toward Hertfordshire, then a town called Watford, I have a map if we get stuck.”

“It’s OK, we’ll be fine.” He said as he started the car and pulled out of the station headed towards Yarmouth.

Sian noticed that he was a confident driver, very attentive and intuitive as to what other drivers were doing and anticipating what they may or may not do next. She was generally a nervous passenger but for some reason with Philip at the wheel she felt at ease. For the first twenty minutes they rode in silence, just the chatter of the police radio breaking the silence. Once they hit the A47 Sian decided to spark up a conversation, “So Philip, what’s your story?” She was blunt and to the point.

“Not a lot to tell really, I had a pretty normal childhood growing up on a council estate. I had various casual jobs before I decided to join the force.”

“So are you from Cambridge? I remember that was where you said you were transferred from.”

“No, I moved to Cambridge after my initial training because they had a desperate need for staff. I was happy to move wherever as I had no strong attachments.”

“So where are you from originally?”

“Ironically I’m from Watford, born and raised there until I left for Cambridge and a new life.”

“So do you know the estate we are going to?”

“Probably, which one is it?”

“It’s a private estate called Moor Park”

“I know Moor Park, it isn’t far from the council estate I grew up on.”

“It’s a small world isn’t it, so I don’t need to ask if you know the way then?” She laughed and realised what an unassuming young man Philip was, it was rare in the youth of today. Sian had come across many young PC’s who thought they were the dog’s bollocks when it came to policing, they were cocky, arrogant and generally had no respect for the older officers. Yet here she was sat with a twenty two year old who had the maturity of someone much older. And she couldn’t help but notice that every now and then he would glance at her legs when he thought she wasn’t looking. She also observed the bulge of his biceps and taut stomach beneath his uniform.

Before long they were on the M11 and headed to the dreaded M25. Sian was born and raised in Norfolk and ventured out of the county as little as possible, she hated traffic and the few times she had ventured into London had hated the strange circular motorway. Who thought that a motorway that just went round in one big circle was a good idea? During the journey they discussed various topics from music, fashion and all the way to football and motor racing. It appeared that they had a lot in common; the discussion over football got a bit heated at times with Sian a massive Norwich City fan and Philip a Luton Town fan. Philip although passionate about his team had to concede that currently Norwich were the better side after a season that saw them come third in the newly created Premier Division while Luton barely escaped relegation from Division One. Music however was a different story, here there was a lot they agreed on for instance the influences and talent of the greats such as Billie Holliday, Ella Fitzgerald and Sam Cooke to name but a few. They also discovered that they were both huge fans of Michael Schumacher, a new German racing sensation of Formula One, they both expected huge things from him in the coming seasons.

Before they knew it they were stuck in traffic just past junction 24 the Potters Bar turn off, and they had to get all the way round to junction 18 for Chorleywood, this would save them having to cut through the centre of Watford which Philip advised her would be a bad idea at any time of day. It was getting on for eleven o’clock and they stayed stationery for the next thirty minutes, Philip even turned the engine off when it was clear that no one was going anywhere fast. Sian looked over at Philip, “Do you have a girlfriend?” She asked before quickly adding, “The young PC you were talking too this morning was very pretty.”

“Not at the moment, I’m concentrating on my career. I hadn’t really thought about Siobhan in that way, but now you mention it I suppose she is quite pretty.”

She could tell he was uneasy talking about his private life so she decided to leave it there, with that the traffic ahead started to move, Philip started the engine and they were off. The remainder of the journey was fairly straightforward, the conversation stuck to non-controversial topics. At twelve o’clock they headed up the slip road from the M25 onto the A404, another fifteen minutes and they would arrive at their destination. Sian was impressed by his knowledge of the roads, it wasn’t until they arrived at the security gate that he asked her for the street address and the house name.

“We need Sandy Lodge Road, and the house is called ‘Cariad’.” She informed him.

The bar of the security gate was across the road as they pulled off Tolpits Lane, and an officious man came out of the brick built sentry box, Philip could see a television playing in the small room. The man walked up to the car, his neatly pressed blue suit was ruined by the hi-vis tabard he was obviously required to wear. He held his clip board in one hand and pen in the other; he leant down as Philip opened the window.

“You do realise that this is a private estate and is a no through road.” He stated rather than asked. His moustache looked like it had come from the movie sets of the fifties.

“We are going to Mr and Mrs Cooper, their address is Cariad, Sandy Lodge Road.”

“You could be anyone, are they expecting you, only I don’t have you on the list.”

With this Sian was beginning to get impatient, one of her biggest bug bears was officious little pricks with nothing better in life to do than to inconvenience others. She leaned across with her warrant card, and with one swift motion opened it, “I’m DI Sian Price and this is PC Philip Thorne, please just open the barrier.” She sat back in her seat and couldn’t help notice the smirk that was forming on Philip’s mouth as the guy went back to his little room and activated the barrier.

Philip drove, the smirk growing now that they were through, “Are you always that impatient?” He asked her.

“Not normally, but little pricks like that wind me up, they think they hold all the power but are just bored little men who want to feel important.” In less than two minutes they were parked outside and Sian noticed what a stunning looking house it was, the gate was already open and Philip drove in, he was grateful for small mercies as he hadn’t relished the thought of speaking into the intercom. He pulled the car around and parked with the rear of the car facing the house. He looked at Sian and could see the dread on her face; this was not going to be easy for her.

SIXTEEN

Chapter 6

I’m going to take you to a time I will treasure forever, it was a couple of days before Christmas 1989 and Amy had invited me round to her house for the evening. Apparently her parents were leaving her to babysit her younger sister Hayley who was nine, they had a party at a friend’s house on the other side of the estate so would only be a few minutes away if they were needed. It had been there suggestion that Amy invite me as they would be more comfortable with a responsible adult there.

Over the previous months I had gotten to know them quite well and I actually quite liked them (I think they liked me too–though if they knew some of the thoughts I had about their daughter they may have felt differently). I arrived a little before seven, her parents were due at their friends for seven thirty. I wore a pair of casual chino’s and a jumper over my t-shirt, I never wore a jacket. The gate was open when I arrived so I drove straight in and parked to the left of their car. As I pulled into the spot the security lights lit up the garden like a football stadium.

I remember standing at the front door, a huge holly wreath adorned the solid cedar wood door, an array of dried fruit pieces and mistletoe intertwined with the holly, and some strange stick like things poked through at random places, these gave of a Christmassy smell which I now knew was cinnamon. I gave a stout knock on the door and Evelyn opened it almost before the sound of my knock had dissipated.

“Come in Pinky.” She ushered as she messed about fixing her earring. She wore a short black cocktail dress accented with a diamond necklace, Mrs Cooper was beautiful but was not a patch on her daughter Amy, at least not in my eyes. Others would disagree as Amy didn’t have ‘Vogue’ or ‘Cosmopolitan’ looks, but there was something about her that I couldn’t resist. I think we were soul mates–just meant to be together for all eternity. I closed the door behind me and as I turned back, there she was, Amy. She was wearing a pair of jeans, and a black roll neck jumper with a picture of Rudolph on it, his big red nose nestled just where her left nipple would be.

“Come through Pinky, me and Hayley are just finishing a game of Kerplunk.” She motioned for me to follow. With the appearance of Amy any impure thought I may or may not have had about Mrs Cooper was quickly extinguished. My sole focus was now for Amy and her alone. The sitting room was huge, an enormous white leather corner sofa filled the far left end, two matching reclining chairs were situated with the best view of the television and a smoked glass topped coffee table sat in the middle. The glass of the table was held up by the tail and nose of a pewter dolphin. On top of the table was the game of Kerplunk, a tall plastic cylinder with multi-coloured sticks poking out at all angles. The idea was to remove the sticks in turn avoiding letting the precariously balancing marbles which sat atop them from falling through. Hayley was sitting on the white fluffy rug in her Minnie mouse pyjama’s and Amy sat with her back to me on the opposite side. “We won’t be long, come and watch.”

I joined them by sitting on the floor at the dolphin’s nose end of the table. Amy on my left and Hayley on my right, I watched as each took turns to remove a stick. Hayley removed them without fear, she just grabbed an end and yanked it out-painlessly. Amy on the other hand examined the tube, changed her mind half a dozen times before settling on a stick and then with surgical precision she slowly extracted the stick. Before the stick was half way out there was a cacophony as the marbles found a way through the maze of remaining sticks. By the end of Amy’s turn there were merely four marbles that hadn’t fallen.

“I’d say Hayley has won.” I said as I applauded her. She stood up and took a bow just as her mum and dad came in. Mr Cooper was six feet tall at least, a handsome man and the source of Amy’s coffee coloured eyes. He wore a tuxedo with a black bow tie, the latter he kept fiddling with until Mrs Cooper took control and straightened it and told him to leave it alone. As she said it Mr Cooper looked at me and rolled his eyes.

I think they liked me because they didn’t see me as a threat to their daughter’s innocence. In all the time we had gone out I always had her home before her curfew, there was never any more than a peck on the cheek (Though I secretly wished for a lot more). They could see that I respected the age difference and was not going to take advantage of their sweet innocent little girl.

They said their goodbyes and told Amy that they would be back before midnight, and to not let Hayley stay up past nine o’clock. They said to me that I didn’t need to wait until they got home to leave, but I assured them that I would stay until they were safely home, that I wouldn’t feel right leaving Amy and Hayley on their own.

After they left the three of us played a few more games of Kerplunk and then just before nine Amy got Hayley a glass of milk and a couple of digestive biscuits to have before she went to bed. By five past nine she was in bed, and me and Amy were in the kitchen raiding the fridge for snacks before we settled down to watch a film. We settled on a selection of sausage rolls, mini pork pies and some cold meats, along with olives, sundried tomatoes and a big bowl of ready salted crisps. Amy also grabbed a two litre bottle of Coca-Cola with two glasses. We took these into the sitting room and Amy knelt in front of the television and opened the cupboard beneath it, inside were a couple of rows of VHS cassettes. She grabbed one and removed it from its case – ‘Uncle Buck’ starring John Candy in the title role.

“Do you mind if I go and put something a bit more comfortable on?” She asked.

“Of course not.”

“You can put the video on and get it ready, I won’t be long.” And with that she disappeared from the room. I put the video in and pressed play, the film started with the usual warning about piracy, then the main title sequence started so I paused it and returned to the sofa. I chose a position which was slightly to the right of the screen which would allow Amy to sit face on if she wanted, though to do that she would have to sit next to me, and I wasn’t sure if she would want to be that close or whether she would choose to sit slightly left giving some space between us. It was nearly five minutes before she came back down, but boy it was worth the wait, she had changed into her night clothes which consisted of a black t-shirt with the words ‘Daddy’s Little Princess’ in neon pink letters encrusted with fake diamonds and a pair of pink and black polka dot shorts with frilly lace hem. She looked stunning, it also made her look very young. She went straight to the video player and hit the play button before returning to the sofa. I remember praying that she would sit next to me and he must have heard my prayers.

By the time the opening credits were over we each had a plate of food, a large class of Coke and were sat so close our bodies touched. Amy kept sneaking food from my plate when she thought I wasn’t looking, the truth of the matter was I had eyes for only one thing that night – Amy. About thirty minutes into the film she got up and paused the film, she took the plates out to the kitchen and refilled our cokes. When the film restarted she sat down next to me once more only this time she leaned in, curled her feet beneath her and placed her head against the side of my body, my reaction was to move my arm at which point she positioned her head against my shoulder and my arm draped across her body where my hand laid touching her just below her breast. I could feel every heartbeat from both her and me. The scent from her body was intoxicating; a clean almost sweet smell emanated from every pore, or appeared to anyway. We carried on watching the film, with every laugh her body moved causing my hand to rub against her. I had never had to concentrate so hard to focus on a film in my entire life, but I was afraid that if I let my mind wander to where it wanted to go I may not b able to contain myself. Every now and then I flexed my fingers making out they were going to sleep when all I was really doing was feeling her body. She didn’t appear to mind; in fact at times I felt her press closer to me.

By the end of the film I was slowly stroking the side of her body, her breathing was shallow where she was on the verge of sleep and I could clearly see the shape and form of her breast through the pyjamas. I realised then that she would be the only girl I would ever love like this. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. I would kill for her. As the film ended she got up and turned the tape off before returning it to its case and back into the cupboard. Before coming back to the sofa she asked if I would like another drink. I told her that I would and that I’d give her a hand. I needed to move about to loosen myself up after all that sitting. Out in the kitchen she didn’t turn the lights on, instead opting for the glow from the fridge’s interior light. She stood there, door open and asked what I would like (I daren’t tell her what I really wanted), I opted for an orange juice and she joined me. We sat at the central island once more next to each other.

We talked for a while about the film, then moved onto other topics like music, then she started to ask me if I have had a girlfriend before. Before I can answer there was the familiar noise of a key turning in the front door and in seconds her mum and dad were standing in the kitchen with us. I asked them if they had a nice night, and I could tell that they were both very much inebriated. They thanked me for coming over and sitting with Amy, and they told Amy that she should really make her way up to bed. That was the end of the evening, but it was the closest I had come to Amy since we had started going out.

Pinky looked at the pile of pages he had written and was pleased, it had been a good session, he noticed for the first time that there were no discarded pages. He thought to himself that writing was easy and if maybe circumstances had been different then he could have been a successful author.

SEVENTEEN

Friday 9th July 1993

Twelve twenty and DI Sian Price was standing at a front door, it could have been any front door on any house in any town, but this particular house was about to be given the sort of news of nightmares. If Sian was right then she was about to shatter the world of two people she had never met and after today would probably never meet again. But this meeting would remain with her for the rest of her life, like so many previous ones had. With her bag over her shoulder she raised her right hand and rang the bell. From inside the house she heard the chimes, and before she had a chance to compose herself the door opened and there stood the woman whose life she was about to rip into a thousand pieces.

“DI Sian Price.” She said holding up her warrant card.

“Please come in, would you like a drink or anything to eat?” Mrs Cooper asked, it was as if she wanted to put off the inevitable.

“I’m fine thank you.” She stepped inside the large open reception area. Why was it that even in the toughest of times it was a natural instinct to offer food and drink, here she was about to deliver the worst news imaginable and Mrs Cooper’s main concern was that her ‘guest’ should be treated the same as if she had just popped round for a chat. Mrs Cooper showed her into the sitting room where her husband was waiting in a large armchair. His drawn face made him look older than his years; time had not been kind to him since his heart condition. A once robust man, had now almost given up and DI Sian Price could only imagine the toll this latest drama was inflicting upon him.

“This is DI…Sorry, I’m terrible with names.” She said looking at Sian.

“Please just call me Sian.” She extended a hand to Robert Cooper, who rose gently from his chair in a show of chivalry that she could see he wasn’t really capable of. “I understand my boss called to explain how this would work, and we will take this at your pace, don’t let me rush you and please don’t feel pressured in any way. Do you have any questions?”

Evelyn Cooper sat next to her husband, her hand was entwined in his, she looked at him before asking, “How much of a formality is this? Do you already know it’s our Amy?” She wiped away the beginnings of a tear as the mention of her daughter’s name finally bought the reality crashing home.

“We do have strong reason to believe the deceased is your daughter.” Sian learned over the years to refer to the victims by their relationship to the person she was speaking too rather than use their name. For some absurd reason it stopped her getting upset while she broke the news. It was as if by not giving the victim a name they could be anyone. She’d also noticed that the person she spoke to respect the fact that she associated the victim as part of their life and not just another name to be uttered with nonchalance. “When you are ready- and only then, we have a video from the coroner recorded which will allow you to see her and possibly identify her. The coroner will be on the phone to answer any questions you may have, is that all OK with you?”

“Yes.” She says, once more she looked at her husband who gave a small nod, “If it is OK with you DI…sorry Sian, we would just like to get it over with as quickly as possible, I think in our hearts we know our daughter is gone. I can’t feel her presence anymore.”

“That’s absolutely fine, just give me a couple of minutes to set up the video and I’ll bring the laptop over to you.” She tapped away for a couple of seconds before a familiar scene came onto the screen, while simultaneously dialling the coroner, “Hi John, this is DI Sian Price, I’m here with Mr & Mrs Cooper.” She knew the video would only have the face and shoulders visible unless they requested otherwise which Sian sincerely hoped they would not, but if they did she had other video files she could go to if she had to.

She started the video and the body of Amy was visible before them, the room was brightly lit but thankfully the whole screen was taken up with the image of a beautiful girl who looked like she was sleeping. Sian knew the room and was glad that the rest was not visible, she paused it. She took her laptop over to Mr & Mrs Cooper and crouched on the floor to the right of Amy’s mother.

“Let me know when you are ready.” The screen was blank at the moment, when she hit a certain button the video would return.

“We’re ready.”

Sian hit the button and their daughter was magically projected in front of them. The next few seconds lasted an eternity. Robert Cooper screamed out hysterically, “Not our beautiful Amy, please god not her.” His head slumped to his chest with resignation. Evelyn Cooper immediately held her husband.

“Our precious baby has gone, please god why her. She had her whole life ahead of her, why have you taken her now?” She wasn’t crying but Sian knew that it would come and when it did she wasn’t sure they would ever be able to turn it off.

Sian turned off the laptop, placed it on her bag and without a word headed to the kitchen to give them a few minutes while she went and made them a hot drink. In the kitchen she spoke briefly into the phone, “Thanks John, it looks like a positive ID.” She didn’t know what else to do, this was the first time she had had to do this, she’d broken the ultimate bad news to parents before, but had never been there when they had to identify the body, and even worse in their own home, there was no escaping this particular emotional rollercoaster. Her instructions were to do whatever the grieving parents wanted, if she had to sit with them for the rest of the day then she would, if they wanted her there when their other daughter got home from school then she would. She envied PC Thorne sat out in the car.

She returned ten minutes later with a tray containing two cups with saucers, a teapot, milk jug and sugar bowl. It had taken her a while to find the teabags but had eventually navigated her way around the large kitchen. It was an impressive space and the craftsmanship was excellent. Little did she know that Amy’s killer had once helped install this very kitchen. As she placed the tray on the coffee table in front of Robert Cooper Mrs Cooper spoke.

“I’m sorry for our outburst, but she had so much to live for. Thank you for the tea but my husband is going to have a lie down.” As if taking his cue he got up from his chair and without another word left the room. Less than forty minutes ago Evelyn had greeted Sian at the door as a beautiful healthy woman, and yet the lady who sat in front of her now looked old, worn down as if she hadn’t slept in a week. Sian then realised that she still hadn’t finished, she had to collect a DNA swab.

She poured them both a cup of hot sweet tea, and Mrs Cooper started talking, “She was studying to be a midwife, she’d just sat her ‘A’ levels before her trip, she would have been going to the University of East Anglia in Norwich in September to start her degree course. She was so looking forward to it, her caring nature would have made her a great midwife, and now she’s gone. Why does someone do something like this? She never hurt anyone, so why her? You must get this all the time, I suppose I’m no different to all the other parents and relatives you have to deal with. I bet they all tell you what a little angel their son or daughter was, how they didn’t deserve what happened to them. I’m sorry I’m rambling on a bit.” She took a sip of tea before continuing. “How was your journey down here? Are you travelling back today, because if you are you take it easy it’s a long way to travel in a day?”

“The drive down was fine, we hit a bit of traffic but not too much.”

“You’re not alone then?”

“No, a young PC drove me down.”

“You should have bought him in, go and get him at least let him have a cup of tea before your long drive back.”

“He’s OK, I think this side of the work makes him a bit uneasy, he asked me if he could stay outside, and when we pulled up here he was ashen, but he assured me he was fine.” She said finishing her tea. “Is there anything I can do for you, do you want me to collect your daughter from school? Or be here and help you explain things to her?”

“No, thank you, I want her to enjoy what may be her last normal day before I tell her later.” She said placing her cup back on the table. “Amy loved life, why would someone want to hurt her the way they did. I’m not stupid I know I haven’t been told the whole story and probably never will. She didn’t have a boyfriend because she was studying so much, she’s missed out on all that. I’d better not hold you up any longer Sian, you need to get back otherwise you’ll hit all the traffic.”

“If you are sure you wouldn’t like me to stay, I’ll get going.” She stood and took a card from her pocket before handing it to Evelyn Cooper. “If you have any questions or need anything day or night, I’m only a phone call away.”

“Thank you.” She said standing.

“Sit down, I can show myself out.” She grabbed her bag and made her way towards the door, she couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through Evelyn Cooper’s mind at this time. Sian herself had no kids but could not think of a worse thing than losing one. She also couldn’t think of how she would tell a thirteen year old that she would never see her sister again. It would make all of their trivial arguments–as girls do– seem like nothing and she could imagine Hayley would do anything to be able to fight with her big sister once more. Thirteen was a vulnerable age as it was without the added bonus of having to grieve for your sibling.

EIGHTEEN

Tuesday 31st October 2017

It was two o’clock and Hayley knew she had to get things sorted as the girls would be home from school soon, they both attended the same one so walked to and from school together. This wasn’t as bad as it appeared as the secondary school they both attended was less than half a mile from their house. Hayley had grown up on a private estate where her mum still lived; her dad had passed a few years ago. She still missed him and she still missed Amy–her sister. She was married, and had struggled to lose her baby weight even though her girls were now twelve and fifteen, she wasn’t fat by any means, women envied her figure.

She was getting the house ready for Halloween, the plan was that the girls would go trick or treating with their dad while she would prepare the finishing touches to the evening for neighbours and friends, about fifteen in total. The estate where they lived was a relatively new one off Tolpits lane, not far from the one her mum lived on. She saw her mum every day, either she would go to her or vice versa, but she knew her mum was lonely after the loss of Robert her husband. In fact her mum had left barely fifteen minutes ago. Most of the food was sorted so she decided to go upstairs and decide what she would wear for tonight’s party. Her husband would be wearing his trademark outfit, a bloodstained chef’s tunic, chequered trousers and a toque (his chef’s hat) all the clothes were bloodstained and he carried a bloody meat cleaver to complete the look. Sometimes he would smear blood over his face (costume make-up). The girls loved it when he would chase them round the house with his fake cleaver and tell them he was going to chop them up into little pieces.

Amy hated it though; she had never told her husband the full details of her sister’s death. He knew that she had been murdered, but she refused to go into the full gruesome details of exactly what had happened. She wasn’t even sure she knew all the details, all she had been told, and this was years later was that Amy’s heart had been removed. She knew nothing of the meal that had been prepared or the assault prior to her death. The only reason she knew about the heart was that a few years after it happened a story was going to be published by one of the tabloids, so her mum pre-empted it by sitting her down and explaining it to her–she was sixteen at the time. It was three years after the gruesome murder. She had been only thirteen at the time of her sister’s death.

She didn’t think any less of her husband for his insensitivity as she knew that if she told him the truth he would stop immediately, he was so tender and loving and the girls adored him. He would be home around six-thirty, just in time to have a shower and shave, take the girls trick or treating before the guests started arriving around eight. He worked at a private institution for the criminally insane, after giving up a promising career in the police force where he had appeared to be progressing well but from what he had told his wife the day to day stresses of the job had begun to get to him and he had wanted a change.

The house was situated in a quiet cul-de-sac which sat at the end of a fairly new estate, less than ten years old, they moved here when the girls were young. It was a four bedroomed Georgian looking house of yellow brick, twin bay windows adorned the front with the entrance in the middle–though they never used this door, all comings and goings were through the side door. This was much more convenient as it was the utility room with tiled floor–much better than the cream carpet as you entered the front of the house. Over the weekend they had prepared the gardens, both front and rear with fake tombstones which he had fashioned from polystyrene sheets etched with a soldering iron and sprayed, along with ghosts and ghouls made of old sheets, and pipes. Cobwebs adorned the interior of the house, or at least the two rooms which would primarily be used for the evening.

When they had bought the house the first thing they did was knock the dining room and kitchen into one which allowed them to have a large central island with a huge marble slab on top. On this Hayley had laid out the food for the evening, once again most of the food ideas hadn’t been hers, it was designed so that the food looked like body parts, there were sausages made to look like entrails, mozzarella sticks resembling cut off fingers and the drinks were going to be served in blood pouches like you saw hanging in an operating room when people needed blood. It was only one day a year and she was happy for her husband to indulge in what appeared to be his favourite holiday, and the girls loved all the blood and guts for some reason.

Upstairs she looked in her wardrobe and decided that this year she would surprise her husband, she had noticed lately that he didn’t appear to be himself, he would take himself to a different room, he had become almost introverted which wasn’t like him at all. No this year she had decided she would make a big effort for Halloween, a week ago she had ordered a costume online, unsure whether she would have the courage to wear it on the night or not. It consisted of a white dress and red piping with zip up front, it barely came six inches down her thigh and there was a garter and hat to match, it was supposed to be a nurse outfit. She was hoping this would get his attention as they hadn’t been intimate for months now and she missed him. They had always had a physical relationship but this past year he had changed, and she wanted to get the old spark back. She hoped tonight would be the change they needed. She hung the outfit back up in the wardrobe after deciding that she would definitely wear it, but she didn’t want her husband seeing it until the time was right. As she closed the wardrobe she heard the familiar sound of the key in the door downstairs, the girls were home from school.

“Hi mum” Mercedes shouted up the stairs, she was the oldest at fifteen and although she had many of her father’s features she also had many of her dead Aunt’s too. Her hair and eyes were the spitting image of Amy’s and the crooked front teeth. Her name came from one of her dad’s favourite films ‘License to Drive’ where the love interest was called Mercedes.

“Hi mum” This time it was Charlotte, three years younger than her sister and she was without doubt her mother’s daughter, in looks, mannerisms and temperament. Hayley and Charlotte both had very slow burning fuses, but god help you if you were in the vicinity when they went off, even more so if you were the cause of the ignition. Her husband and Mercedes on the other hand were as placid as they came, nothing seemed to shake Mercedes. She was like her aunt in so many ways, loved life and believed in living it to its fullest. Hayley missed her sister so much.

Hayley went downstairs to greet the girls; their bags had been dumped at the foot of the staircase. A ritual they went through every day, she would tell them to take their bags to their room and not to just leave them anywhere. “Have you got any homework?” She asked.

“Not tonight mum, our teachers said they would leave it today ‘cos it’s Halloween.” Mercedes said.

“Me neither.” Charlotte piped up straight after her sister.

“In that case you can give me a hand getting everything ready for tonight if you want.” She looked out of the window at the descending night sky, it had been overcast most of the day but the rain had held off so far. The temperature had also dropped in the last hour or so and she was so glad that it was her husband that would escort the girls round trick or treating tonight. She watches as her beautiful daughters ascend the stairs with their bags, and for the briefest of moments she is transported back to that day when she had returned from school to be confronted by her parents and told the awful news of her sister Amy.

NINETEEN

Friday 9th July 1993

It was getting on for three o’clock when DI Sian Price exited ‘Cariad’, the home of the Cooper family, she walked to the car where she could see the figure of PC Philip Thorne sat behind the wheel of the unmarked police car. She composed herself as best she could, she hated days like this and now she had a three plus hour journey back to home–she could really do with a drink. She placed her bag in the boot before settling herself in the passenger seat.

“How were Mr & Mrs Cooper?” Philip asked.

“I think it’s going to take time for them to come to terms with it, Mr Cooper looked ill, he took himself off to bed shortly after the ID. It’s their daughter Hayley I feel really sorry for, at the moment she is at school oblivious that there is anything wrong with her sister, and yet in less than an hour she will find out that she will never see or hear her again, that she was murdered while away with friends. How as a thirteen year old do you ever get over something like that?”

“Youngsters can be resilient, it will take a long time but I’m sure she will get through it.” He said as he drove the car out of the residence and back onto the road. Sian saw a visible improvement in his demeanour as soon as they left the property, the further away they got the calmer and happier he became, she wondered what that was about but put it down to inexperience and a certain amount of empathy towards the family. She found it quite endearing that a young man harboured such feelings, most of her male colleagues were all too quick to show off their bravado.

Within fifteen minutes they were back on the dreaded M25 and headed home, they’d barely got up to the speed limit when the traffic in front all had their hazard lights on and were rapidly slowing. Philip did the same and let the car coast to a crawl and then to a dead stop. They had just passed junction eighteen so no prospect of getting off the motorway. The sun was hot and the air was humid, not ideal driving conditions. Sian took her jacket off and turned around to place it on the back seat, she couldn’t help notice Philip’s eyes take in the view down her white blouse as she did.

While they were stationery many of the drivers up ahead were out of their cars and chatting, Sian got on the police radio and tried to ascertain what the issue was. Within a couple of minutes she had her response, a tanker carrying diesel had overturned just before junction nineteen. The emergency services were on the scene and were at present trying to organise removal of traffic to the previous exit. She was told that the road would not be open anytime soon and that when they were eventually off the motorway it might be a good idea to stay in Watford overnight and travel back first thing in the morning. By the time Sian was off the radio Philip was standing outside the car looking up ahead, she got out and walked round the car to join him. “We could be here for a while.” She said.

“I heard you on the radio, what seems to be the problem?” He asked, she relayed verbatim what she had been told, omitting the possibility of staying over.

“Depending on when we get off this godforsaken motorway my boss suggested we stay over and head back in the morning, if that is going to cause any problems I’m happy to keep going ‘til we get home. But the brass are picking up the tab so it would seem a shame to pass up their hospitality. Believe me it doesn’t happen very often.”

“That’s fine by me; I’ve got no plans and no one waiting.” The way he said the last three words made her feel sorry for him. They stood and chatted for at least an hour going over their lives up until that point, favourite films etc. Then traffic started to come towards them on the hard shoulder, Sian realised the police had obviously decided the best option was taking the trapped traffic off at the previous junction.

“It looks like we could be getting off fairly soon.” She looked at her watch, a little before five. “So hotel or head back? Your choice.” She said, her back still leant against the car and the sun still beating down on her face.

“Hotel.” Philip said without a moment’s hesitation. He watched her with her sunglasses on, he couldn’t tell where she was looking or even if she had her eyes open against the blinding sun, nevertheless he couldn’t help but stare at her breasts, the outline of her bra clearly visible through the sun soaked blouse. He also couldn’t help the whispers of arousal of her nipples at the mention of the hotel. It was nearly another thirty minutes before the car up ahead started to move and they got back into their car ready to turn around and head back the way they had come.

They rode in silence to the hotel, and at six-fifteen they arrived at the Hilton hotel on the A41, it would give them easy access to the M25 in the morning. The hotel though a famous brand looked like it had seen better days, the paintwork was beginning to peel in areas, a few bulbs under the portico were missing but it would do for the one night. Sian had called ahead to make sure they had two rooms, which once she’d identified who she was were happy to hold the rooms until they could arrive. Philip pulled the car into the parking space closest to the main entrance. They retrieved the equipment from the boot of the car as they didn’t want anything stolen and carried it into reception.

In the main reception area were three counters, behind each was a clock set to s different world time zone and stood behind the middle counter was a pretty petite redheaded girl, no more than eighteen and with the palest complexion Sian had ever seen. “Hi, I booked two rooms under the name of Price.”

“Thank you, I’ll just get your details up.” She smiled at Sian with a look that said ‘I know what you’re here for’ the sly look she gave Philip confirmed it. Sian smiled inwardly at what was going through this young girl’s head. Sian noticed that Philip showed no interest in the girl and yet she was stunning, her hazel eyes and perfect figure would have got a cursory glance from even the meekest of men. Yet whenever she looked at Philip he averted his eyes as if he’d been staring at her. “Yes, we have you in two adjoining rooms, don’t worry the connecting doors can be locked from both sides. Here are your keys, I just need a card imprint for any charges to the room.”

Sian handed over her card, she’d been told to fill out an expenses form when she got back. “You can put the room charges on the card as well if that’s OK?”

“That’s not a problem, in which case there is no need to check out in the morning, just drop your keys into that box over there before ten.” She indicated a wooden letter box on the wall with a slot in the top to ‘post’ the key through. “Your rooms are on the second floor, the lift and stairs are just to the left of the reception and I hope you both enjoy your stay.” She went back to arranging whatever paperwork she was fiddling with when they arrived as Sian and Philip made their way over to the lift.

The elevator was designed to carry no more than four passengers, so with the two of them in there it felt slightly cramped, for the first time Sian smelled his odour, mixed with his aftershave was a masculine smell, not unpleasant almost musky. She was conscious of the sweat running down her spine and the air-conditioning in the lift was making it feel icy cold as it travelled below the waistband of her skirt and into her knickers. The closeness of Philip was making her uneasy, not in a weird way but sexually, it had been a while since she’d been intimate with anyone and she hadn’t realised until this moment how much she had missed it. But she knew that Philip was a PC and a lot younger than her, and it would be a bad idea for anything to happen between them. Not that she believed Philip had any of those sorts of feelings towards her anyway.

“It’s six thirty now, do you want to meet up in the restaurant at seven for something to eat?” She asked as she handed him his key. They were standing outside her room.

“OK, I’ll see you down there; it will give me time to have a quick shower.”

Sian went into her room where she headed straight to the bathroom; a spotlessly clean marble clad room awaited her. She turned on the shower and made sure it was cool water flowing. She realised she’d left her jacket in the car, but that would be fine out there, it was too hot to wear it anyway. Leaving her clothes neatly folded she stepped into the small cubicle, the complimentary products would have to suffice for the one night. As she stepped out of the shower goose bumps appeared all over her body, but she felt clean and refreshed. As she picked through her pile of clothes she decided to give her knickers a rinse under the tap and hang them up to dry. It would mean going commando for the evening but at least she would have a relatively clean pair to put on in the morning for the trip back. She tried her blouse on without the bra but decided that would be a step too far. So she left her knickers hanging in the bathroom, her hair still wet and she headed down to the restaurant at five minutes to seven.

The restaurant was relatively empty, with maybe half a dozen tables occupied, four of which were lone diners, three male and one female all in the tell-tale travelling salesman suits. She spotted Philip over by the bar, and couldn’t help but notice his wet hair a mass of dark curls. He had already set himself up with a pint, as she walked over he got off his stool and asked her what she wanted to drink.

“Did you put the drink on your room?” She asked, and he gave her a puzzled look.

“No, it’s ok I’ll get these.” He said.

“OK, just this one then the rest go on my room so the force can pick up the tab. I’d love a glass of Chardonnay if they have it please.” On hearing voices the bartender came over to service them.

“Could I get a large glass of Chardonnay please?” He asked the short squat man behind the bar, at the same time he handed over a five pound note.

“Shall we get a table while it’s still quiet?” Sian asked.

“Sure.” They carried their glasses over to a table and sat down, within a couple of minutes a young lad in black trousers, and white shirt came over with a couple of menus.

“Hi, the specials tonight are Braised lamb shank in mint gravy, and Duck a l’Orange, both come with a creamy mash and seasonal vegetables.” He recited as if reading from a script.

“Thank you.” Sian said taking the menus and handing one to Philip. The waiter walked away and when he was out of earshot she said “He was a happy chappie, it looks like he really enjoys his work.” Philip laughed a little too hard.

“Is there a budget we have to work to for the meal, what I mean is, is there a limit to what you can claim? I am quite happy to pay for my meal.” He looked nervous as he said it, he didn’t really know what the etiquette was for this sort of thing. He was a young PC having dinner in a fancy hotel with a DI from CID.

“Philip just relax, order whatever you want, just imagine this as a night out where everything is free.” She said as she raised her glass. “Here’s to the brass picking up the tab.” He raised his to meet hers and laughed, this time a more sincere laugh, he was going to enjoy the evening.

TWENTY

Tuesday 31st October 2017

“So it’s Halloween, they should give tours of this place, talk about scare the little fuckers to death.” Chef said. “We could all have little plaques outside our cells stating what we did, when we did it, how much we enjoyed it, that sort of thing. They could ask us questions. Don’t you think that would be fun Pinky?”

“I gotta say Chef you have one sick and twisted sense of humour.”

“This from the man who, because the girl he loved didn’t love him back, decided the only course of action was to take her to a holiday chalet. Where he proceeded to rip her heart out to make sure she never loved anyone else and eat it just to make sure. And you call me one sick fuck.” Chef laughed so hard he thought his guts were going to burst.

“Very amusing, I still believe I was justified in my actions, what justification was there in all the young girls you ate?” Pinky questioned.

“Economics, as simple as that. I found a market where people were happy to pay a premium for what I was selling. I never forced anyone to attend one of my meals, in fact quite the opposite was often true. Invariably I would get a phone call from a regular requesting a banquet. True, I was always happy to oblige.”

“How many ‘Banquets’ did you have, do you know?” Pinky asked.

“Somewhere in the region of twenty-five to thirty.”

“So you killed and ate that many young girls?”

“Of course not, some banquets required three maybe four girls, if I was having an international cuisine night it could run to as many as ten – different nationalities produce different flavours. I would always try to be true to their homeland. For instance I had one evening where the request was for a group of Muslims. I had to convert to Islam to become a Muslim myself in order that I could slaughter the three young virgins they had decided upon. This was the only banquet I didn’t supply the meat for, and the only one where the guests were present at the slaughter. It was arranged that a few days prior to the meal the guests would arrive, I would put them up in the stately home where I held the meals. They would bring the girls with them, they seemed oblivious to the reason they were there. I didn’t ask questions and they never told me why the girls thought that they were there.

When the time came, one of the elder Muslims escorted each girl in turn to the special room I had for just such occasions. Once in the room he ordered the girl strip. I dread to think what she must have thought was going to happen, she stood in this room about twenty feet square, metal tables round the edge, a large wooden butchers block in the middle. A large joist crossed the room from which hung chains each with a large meat hook at the end. Below them was a drain with metal grill covering it. Once the girl was naked the fear in her eyes was evident, I genuinely felt sorry for her. Normally I put the girl to sleep with an injection so that they’re relaxed; it makes for much more tender meat. But with these girls I tied a rope around their ankles before attaching them to a chain and hoisting them up. They would hang upside down for a couple of minutes, there neck level with my head. I would then recite the words ‘Bismillah Allahu Akbar’ as I used a sharp knife to severe the windpipe, oesophagus and jugular veins in one swift motion and let the body drain of blood. Once the body was drained it was then moved to another room ready for the next slaughter as Islamic law does not allow the next offering to see the previous one.

So within an hour we had three Halal virgin girls ready to cook. A couple of nights later a feast was prepared of traditional food, and despite the expert cooking the meat was not as tender as it should have been. Although I’d explained that this was a possibility due to the fear the girls felt at the time of slaughter they still insisted that it was done their way.

I vowed after that I would never perform a Halal slaughter again.”

Pinky could hear that this had upset Chef, although to most people he was a monster and evil to the core, there was a certain standard he stood by. After hearing of what he had put himself through for the sake of religion he had even more respect for him. Nathan Sabine a.k.a. Chef had standards. “Did you ever host any Halloween parties?” He tried to lighten the mood, he was stunned that there had been no comments from any of the other cells, there was deathly silence.

“A couple, why do you ask?”

“Just curious, I thought it would be the ideal time for such a macabre event.”

“The guests never saw the banquets as macabre, to them it was a chance to sample a delicacy very few would ever get to taste. It was an evening of fine dining, good company with like-minded souls. They didn’t see it as the murder of an innocent for them to feast upon. No, to them it was no different to eating Rose veal or the finest Wagyu beef steak. I dare say that if they had to kill and prepare their own there isn’t one of my clients that would have ever tasted human flesh. I provided a service that they were more than happy to pay a lot of money for.”

Pinky looked down at his blank sheet of paper, not a lot to show for his so called day of writing, much of the day had passed by like the past hour, inmates recounting some of their passions. Not that he minded, for some reason writing just wasn’t on his mind today, he kept thinking back to the fact it was Halloween, he had a mental block about where the book was going and he knew he would get to the chapter soon where he would tell the story of Amy Cooper’s last night of living, but he also knew that before he could get to that he had to relive the rejection he felt when certain aspects of her life conspired against them and their happiness together.

With his paper in front of him he decided he had to make a start, he might get an hour or so of writing done, then tomorrow would be another day. His aim was to get all the horrible stuff down on paper by the end of the week. He decided there and then that chapter seven would be dedicated to the events leading up to her betrayal and chapter eight would be the betrayal itself.

Chapter 7

Where do I begin, this is probably going to be a bit out of sequence in the whole timeline of events but I need to get this out there as it will help you – my reader – understand my justification for many of my actions. First I’m going to take you back to the fifteenth of May 1990, Amy’s birthday. Four days after Amy Cooper’s fifteenth birthday. Then the nineteenth of May, the night her parents threw her a party.

On her birthday I took her to the pictures to see ‘Pretty Woman’ starring Julia Roberts and Richard Gere, a fairytale about a hooker and a ruthless businessman. It was a magical evening, we drove up to Milton Keynes ‘The Point’ cinema complex and listened to the films soundtrack on the way to get us in the mood. Amy was wearing a pale blue dress, with white flowers, the dress stopped just above her knees which meant all the way I stole glances at her bare legs, the neckline was a swooped neck. Over the last few months Amy had really started to fill out in the chest area, the cute mounds were slowly turning into a decent handful. I was really looking forward to the day when I would be allowed access to them.

We chatted most of the way over the music, except for the song ‘Fallen’ by Lauren Wood as it was such a beautiful song. I tried to steer the conversation to our relationship, I still couldn’t have told you what we were, we weren’t quite boyfriend-girlfriend, but we were definitely more than just friends. She didn’t like talking about things like that and would always make jokes about me being a cradle snatcher, after all by this time I was nineteen and hanging around a barely fifteen year old girl. To me it didn’t matter, I didn’t see her as a child, I saw her as the woman she was becoming. I saw our life stretched out ahead of us, once she was sixteen, we could form a proper relationship, maybe date properly for a couple of years, then get engaged and married after another couple of years. With any luck we would have our first child when she was about twenty-one, then a second within two years, we wouldn’t want a longer gap than that. I would make her happy of that I was certain.

Back to the night of her actual birthday, like I said we saw ‘Pretty Woman’, it was an amazing film and coming out of the movie theatre Amy linked her arm in mine and nestled in to my shoulder. We headed to Burger King where she ordered her trademark Mushroom Double Swiss and large fries and chocolate shake, we found a quiet table in the corner. After the meal I pulled her present from my pocket, I had been dying to give it to her from the moment I had picked her up from her house.

I handed over the perfectly wrapped box, a four inch square. She tore the paper off to reveal a burgundy jewellery box with the word ‘Ratners’ emblazoned across the top in gold leaf. She flipped the lid up to reveal a rose gold five bar gate bracelet. She took it out and I placed it around her wrist for her, as I did she leaned across the table and placed a kiss on my lips before admiring her present. The next few moments are a blur as I was still recovering from her lips pressed to mine. The taste of the chocolate shake mixed with her scent would never leave me. The only other time I tasted those lips was the night she died, and they were not the same, they had become tainted.

Like I said the evening was perfect, we had a fabulous time and I should have realised that from such a high things could only progress one way – and that was down, and down fast was the way it went.

TWENTY ONE

Friday 9th July 1993

Within twenty minutes their main courses arrived, Sian had opted for the grilled Dover Sole served with new potatoes and minted peas. Philip had gone for the eight ounce Rump steak medium rare served with chips, peas and a Diane sauce. They had also ordered a second drink, another pint of Kronenberg 1664 and large Chardonnay. The waiter placed the meals in front of them with as much enthusiasm as he could muster–which really wasn’t much at all–in unison they both took a large mouthful of drink before they tucked into their meals.

“Are you married?” Philip suddenly asked from nowhere, the drink had obviously given him some confidence.

“No, not dating either.” She didn’t know why she had offered the extra bit of information, but she spotted something in his eyes at the mention of her being unattached. “What about you, you must have the girls falling over themselves for dates?” She saw his cheeks begin to redden. Did he really not know what he looked like, his olive skin, curly hair and sultry eyes would make many women and girls go weak at the knees. She was almost a decade older and wasn’t immune to his attraction.

“I think I said before I haven’t really had much experience with girls, my career is important to me.” He pushed peas around on his plate to give him something to focus on rather than look her in the eye.

“That shouldn’t stop you having fun, you’re only young once. Believe me you don’t want to miss out on your youth and then regret it ten or twenty years down the line.” She skilfully removed some of the flesh from the bone of her fish before placing it in her mouth. She couldn’t help observe the way his eyes followed her fork from the plate to her mouth. The way his eyes were drinking her in made her realise that going commando may have been a mistake, the slight draught that was circulating the room occasionally made a detour under her skirt and caused sensations inappropriate for a dinner table.

“You’re probably right; we never know how long we have here. Poor Amy probably thought she had her whole life ahead of her, what a waste.” She thought she saw his eyes moisten with the mention of Amy, and could tell he was trying to rein it in but was beginning to lose the battle.

“If you ever want to talk about it Philip my door is always open. Whatever you do don’t bottle it up. It will eat away at you bite by bite until you’re numb.” The second she had used the metaphor she regretted it, how could she have been so stupid. And yet a look came over his face and all of a sudden he burst out laughing. He laughed hard for maybe twenty seconds before composing himself.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t funny. My heart was telling me not to laugh but my head just couldn’t help itself. I had the image of her on the countertop, then you said ‘it will eat away bite by bite’ and for some reason it just seemed ridiculous as though what happened to Amy couldn’t have possibly been real. That it was part of a giant hoax, an April fool’s joke–I know it wasn’t and I shouldn’t have laughed. I’m sorry.” He ate his last mouthful of steak before setting his knife and fork on the table.

A smile formed on her lips, she could see that this was just his way of coping with something horrendous he had seen. She had done similar in the past to cope, especially at RTA’s where she had seen her fair share of mutilation on the roadside. These type of incidents she tended to compartmentalise and put in a box in her mind labelled stage make-up. This kept the idea of the ripped apart bodies as just theatrical props for a film, she knew they weren’t but it was her way of dealing. “Don’t worry about it.” She placed her cutlery on the plate, next to the couple of potatoes she couldn’t manage. “Would you like a dessert?”

“No thank you, I’m fine.”

She signalled for the waiter to come and collect their plates. “Would you like to see the dessert trolley?” He asked as he arrived at the table.

“No thank you, but could we get a couple of Brandy’s please?” She looked over at Philip and added, “Make them doubles please.”

“I wouldn’t have put you down as a Brandy drinker Sian.” Philip said after the waiter had left.

“What would you put me down as?” She teased.

“Oh maybe...” He looked her up and down before he said with a smirk “Malibu and Coke.”

She kicked him under the table before she responded “Take that back, I’m not an Essex girl.”

“Ouch, what was that for? And no I’m not taking it back.” The waiter placed the two brandy glasses in front of them. “Why would someone do something like that?” He asked looking her straight in the eyes.

She knew exactly what he was alluding to, he didn’t need to elaborate. In a way she was pleased he wanted to talk, god knew she needed to after today. She was grateful they were now the only two patrons left in the restaurant. “There are some very sick individuals out there, who knows why anyone does anything.” She cupped her glass in her hands to warm the brandy.

“I can understand why someone robs, I can understand why someone would hurt someone else but why go to the extremes that he did over such a sweet girl?” He followed suit and warmed the bowl of the glass with his hands, he had no idea why but it was obviously the correct way to drink it.

“We will catch the bastard that did this Philip, have no doubt about that.” She said as she downed the entire contents of her glass. Philip copied her, only once the amber liquid hit his throat he had an uncontrollable urge to cough and splutter as it burned its way down his oesophagus. She laughed as he regained a semblance of control. “Fancy another one up in the room?” She didn’t know where she was going with this but the day’s events and the alcohol were beginning to cloud her mind.

“OK, if you’re sure.”

She asked the waiter to put the bill on her room. They made their way to the elevator, where they proceeded to wait for it to arrive. Sian could feel the effects of the alcohol begin to take hold; she had always been a lightweight when it came to drink. If she went out with colleagues from work she would always ensure that every other drink was a glass of water. The lift arrived and they both got in, another couple were already in there–must have come from the underground car park. It was a bit of a squeeze as the couple were quite large, but Sian and Philip managed. She could feel Philips arm brush her leg in the cramped space and it sent shockwaves to parts of her body she had forgotten about. The ride in the elevator seemed endless and the heat increased with all the hot bodies. She couldn’t wait to get out when the elevator stopped at their floor.

She fished the key out of her skirt pocket and inserted it in the lock. She was conscious of Philips warm breath on the back of her neck. They were barely through the door when she felt Philips hands on her shoulders, in a second she was spun round and facing him before he placed his lips firmly to hers. She responded in kind using one of her hands to slam the hotel door. As their tongues fought a battle she lifted his standard issue police shirt clean over his head, though he did have to fumble with the cuff buttons to remove it completely. While he did that she deftly un-buttoned her blouse and discarded it. A flash came into her head that he was going to find out she hadn’t been wearing any knickers the whole evening. She was past caring.

Their lips locked for a second time, they were still just inside the door. She felt his fingers on the clasp of her bra moments before it fell to the floor. Before it hit, his mouth was clamped to her nipple. It had been too long and the sensations washed over her, the pain of his teeth on her nipple was exhilarating. Never had she experienced such pleasure from pain. She undid his belt and button, as she tried to tug them down he helped by adjusting his legs and kicking off his shoes. It all came off in one, trousers and briefs. He was hard, not particularly well endowed but it would be adequate for her purposes. No sooner had he removed his trousers when he spun her round once more, she was now facing the wall. His hands grabbed the hem of her skirt as he bit into her shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark but not to break the skin. She could feel herself tipping over the edge. With her skirt raised above her waist he whispered in her ear “No knickers, you naughty little girl.” His tone gave her the creeps but she barely had a chance to think as he slid into her and she was over the edge, as he thrust away a wave of ecstasy like she had never experienced flooded her body and it wasn’t long before she felt the warmth of his liquid inside her.

No sooner had they finished when he retrieved his trousers and hurriedly put them on before he grabbed his shirt and walked out the door. Before he had a chance to leave she said “We’ll leave about seven in the morning if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine, I’ll see you at the car.”

She wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or what that led him to do what he did but in a way she was grateful. She’d got what she wanted without having to deal with the après sex. She could feel his juices running down her leg so she headed for her second shower of the evening. In the shower she rubbed her shoulder, she could feel welts appear where he had bitten into her; there was no blood so he hadn’t broken the skin. She put it down to his over exuberance and enthusiasm. She stood there longer than usual thinking about what had just happened. She knew professionally it was wrong, she was his superior. She put it down to circumstance, after what they had both seen and witnessed with this case it was a release, pure and simple.

She sat on the bed with just a towel around her head, the other one was too wet from the bathroom floor to wrap round. She had always been comfortable in her own skin so sitting there naked on the bed was not an issue, as she sat there she noticed red marks on her thigh from his nails. In the throes of passion the pain hadn’t registered but the four red lines on the outside of both thighs told their own story. Her right nipple was also sore, the surrounding area red and swollen from the suction of his mouth. But it had been worth every morsel of pain. It was a long time since she had felt pleasure like it. Her last ‘boyfriend’ was more of a friend with benefits and invariably she would have to get herself off once he had left because he never left her satisfied. With him she enjoyed an evening of company which invariably led to the bedroom and a quick fumble in the dark to relieve his burden, he never really gave her a second thought. It had been different when they first started he would spend hours pleasuring her, and then as time went on it was a by-product of an evening out. A sort of thank you for a lovely evening, now here’s a quick fuck, I’ll be on my way sort of thing. She hadn’t put up with that for too long hence why he was a past ‘boyfriend’. It was over a year since she last had sex which is why she enjoyed those ten minutes with Philip, in fact it was closer to five but it was all she needed from him.

Philip went into his room after leaving DI Sian Price and threw himself on the bed; the tears flowed harder than they had in a long time. What had he done, he had to drive to Norfolk with her tomorrow, what was he thinking?

TWENTY TWO

Okay, now to the night of her party. I think I‘ve already told you that her parents arranged it for the Saturday night after her actual birthday. Although she knew about it she wasn’t allowed home while the preparations were being seen too. I had offered to escort her out for the day but she told me that she was going to take her sister in to town and treat her so that she didn’t feel left out. I was a bit disappointed but came to realise that it could be a great opportunity to lay some groundwork with my future in-laws. Without Amy knowing, I offered my services to her parents who took me up on it with open arms.

Amy was to take Hayley at noon, they were heading to Watford for some retail therapy and lunch. I waited in my car for her taxi to pull out of the driveway before I pulled my car in and parked as close to the house as possible. Mr & Mrs Cooper had already told me that I could use their house to get changed to save me the drive home, they also invited me to use the spare room for the night allowing me to fully enjoy the evening. I grabbed my party clothes for the evening and knocked on the front door. I was greeted by a stunning Mrs Cooper, she was wearing the tightest of faded jeans, a white blouse tied just above her midriff and her hair was up and held by a large clip.

“Come in Pinky, you didn’t have to get here this early, you just missed Amy.” She said.

“I know Mrs Cooper, I was waiting down the lane for her to leave, I wanted it to be a surprise that I was helping, you didn’t tell her did you?.”

“No Pinky I didn’t, and we’ll have no more of this Mrs Cooper nonsense, please call me Evie.”

“Okay Mrs… sorry Evie.” For the first time since I had known Amy and her family I finally felt as if I was becoming part of it. And I couldn’t wish for a better family to be joining, not that that there was anything wrong with mine it was just I didn’t really know them. I saw very little of them, and when they were around they had other priorities on their minds. I don’t blame them, I just don’t think they wanted children, then I came along and screwed up their plans. Rather than get rid of me–which would probably have been the case if it had happened maybe ten or fifteen years later when abortions were accepted-they just palmed me off on a childminder who became my surrogate family. Beryl did her best but with the number of kids she looked after there was only so much time I was allocated, it was nice when it was just her kids and me when all the others had been picked up. My parents were rarely there until nine at the earliest, some nights Beryl would get a call asking if she could keep me until the next day.

I followed Evie up the stairs where she showed me into a bedroom which was bigger than my own at home. “You can leave your clothes in here, this will be your room for the night if it’s okay?” She asked.

“This is great Evie, thank you.” It also just happened to be the room next to Amy’s.

“When you’re ready we are in the garden setting up the marquee, I’m sure Rob will be glad of some more help.”

“I’m ready and willing, I’ll follow you.” We headed down the stairs and I couldn’t help but notice her arse was tight as a drum, for a woman her age she kept herself in remarkably good shape. Out in the garden the marquee was up, and Mr Cooper was just about to start laying the floor. It would seem that no expense was being spared, the flooring panels were stacked in the drive and the marquee was probably forty or fifty metres away. I offered to do the running of the panels while Mr Cooper laid them. He was grateful for my suggestion as I could see the heat and the lifting were just about to finish him off. I remember how he patted me on the back and told me that his Amy was lucky to have a friend like me. With a grin wider than the Thames estuary I trotted off to retrieve the next panels. It worked well as I could carry four panels at once and by the time I dropped them with Mr Cooper collected the next lot he was just laying the last of the previous.

By one o’clock the floor was down, and we had started to move tables in. We’d barely started when Evie came out with a tray of ice cold lemonade for us. She must have been hot as her jeans had been replaced with a pair of cut off jean shorts. Her legs could have belonged to a woman half her age. “Here you go boys, you deserve a break.” She placed it on the table we had just put down. As she bent to place it I had a clear view down her blouse, the sweat beading on the gap between her mounds started stirrings in my own jeans–Mr Cooper was a lucky man.

“We wouldn’t be half as far if was wasn’t for Pinky here.” He said resting his hand on my shoulder and squeezing, the effect stopped the action in my trousers before it had a chance to progress. We each took a glass and drank greedily, the sun was definitely hot that day, the forecast even predicted it could be the hottest day of the year so far.

“Is anyone else helping.” I asked, secretly I hoped it would just be the three of us.

“My sister is doing some of the food, she’ll be bringing it along with her daughter around four. And Rob’s brother was supposed to give us a hand but decided to jet off to LA yesterday on a work trip. So if you hadn’t stepped in to save the day I think Rob might have struggled. So thank you for your help, I know Amy will appreciate it.” She said as she gave me a knowing nod. I don’t know what they thought went on between me and Amy but it was obviously more than there was. This milestone in my Amy’s life did mean one thing, only twelve months until we could be together properly, her next birthday would be one neither of us would ever forget.

By four o’clock we were pretty much there, the marquee looked amazing, Evie had helped to put the decorations up, several times I was asked to steady her chair while she hung something, each time my face was inches from her cut-off shorts and what lay beneath. If I wasn’t so in love with Amy I may well have used those images of her when I was next alone, but my respect for her daughter steered me away from those kinds of thoughts.

Just as we finished a car pulled into the driveway, Evie said that it would be her sister and headed off to greet her. “Thank you so much for your help today Pinky, we certainly made light work of it.” Mr Cooper said.

“I enjoyed it, besides it was for Amy after all.”

“You care about her a lot don’t you?” He asked with a serious tone to his voice.

“More than I ever thought possible.” It was all I could think to say.

“I know I had my reservations about you dating my daughter, especially given your age, but you seem to be treating her right.”

“We are only friends Mr Cooper, there is nothing else going on.” Panic crept into my voice at where I thought this conversation was going.

“Really, I thought you were more than that, you spend a lot of time together I just assumed that you were boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“No, she just wants to be friends at the moment, which is fine by me, I think she was a little worried about the age gap when we first went out together. But I am happy to wait for her, she will know when the time is right.” I picked at my nails and avoided eye contact with him while I gave my speech. The words sounded strange coming from my mouth, it was as if someone else was reciting them. For some inexplicable reason I felt a resentment towards her for the first time since we’d met. I couldn’t explain it, and still can’t today but for about thirty seconds I resented the fact that I would go to any lengths for her yet she still held me at a distance she was comfortable with. The feeling went almost as soon as it arrived but it stuck with me for all those years.

I was relieved when Evie returned with her sister and her niece. They appeared around the house each carrying a tray of food. Her sister was the spitting image of her, same eyes, same hair. The main difference was where Evie wore barely any make up, her sister Gwen (I found out later it was short for Gwendolyn) had used a trowel to apply hers. Her daughter, Evie’s niece wasn’t much better, though it was understandable, she was a goth. She didn’t look like she wanted to be there at all, she must have been about nineteen but had the weight of the world tied around her neck. In the sweltering heat she had still decided to wear a long flowing black corset dress with emerald green panels down each side. The bottom half of the dress was like a netting material and what appeared to be a mini skirt underneath, she finished the outfit with a sturdy pair of black Doc Martens.

Evie asked me to take Madison (that was the poor girls name) into the kitchen to get her a glass of water while they emptied the car and laid out the rest of the food. I tried talking to her on the way, but with every question all I got was a monosyllabic answer. It wasn’t until I asked her about music that she seemed to come alive, she went on about a group called ‘Fields of the Nephilim’ and how she had seen them play like a thousand times, and that the next time she went I should go with her. I had never heard of them but agreed anyway, I knew that after tonight the chances are I would never see her again, all the time I had known the Coopers I had never heard any of them talk about Madison.

TWENTY THREE

Wednesday 1st November 2017

Hayley sat on their unmade bed and cried, it was eight fifteen and she had just seen her girls out the door on their way to school. She’d hugged and kissed both, probably squeezing just a little bit too tight. Philip had left sometime after five-thirty. She’d felt his lips on her forehead as she pretended to still be asleep. She sat there in her white towelling robe, naked beneath it. As she wiped the tears away she walked out of the bedroom and down the hall to the main bathroom, the bathroom she rarely used. She always favoured their en-suite as it had a large walk in shower cubicle. But today she opted for the shower that fitted over the bathtub in the one the girls used.

She switched the shower to full and as hot as she could stand it, removing the robe she looked down at her thighs and the bruises that had formed on the inner surfaces of them both. She then cupped her breasts and the tears came flooding again as she saw the teeth marks around her nipples. A couple had even drawn blood just below the surface. She didn’t know why she was crying, after all it was what she had wanted–some affection from her husband–she had been overjoyed when he had shown an interest in her Halloween costume. Before he’d taken the girls out trick or treating he had given her bum a sharp smack and whispered that he would give her ‘a good seeing to’ when the girls went to bed.

She had been on a high for the hour or so they’d been gone, she’d put the finishing touches to the night’s festivities, guests had started to arrive shortly before they returned and the whole evening had been a roaring success. The girls had returned with a full bounty of candy, Philip had given her leering looks throughout the night, the occasional grope when no one was looking and he’d even followed her upstairs when she had needed to pay a visit to the little girls room. At the top of the stairs he had slid his hand under her skirt and rubbed at the material of her panties while he gave her a sharp nip on her exposed shoulder. She’d told him he would have to wait until the guests had gone and the girls were in bed before he could have his wicked way. By eleven they had the house to themselves; Philip was still in his costume.

She stood under the shower and let the full force of the jets hit her aching body. She didn’t want to think about last night but it was all that kept churning inside her head. She grabbed the soap and started scrubbing at her skin, and still the tears flowed. As she rubbed a little too aggressively at her thigh her fingernail tore at her skin and opened a gash, this was the final straw. She slumped into the bathtub as the blood began to snake its way towards the plughole. She wished she could flush her life away the same way. As the water continued to pummel her body she tried to make excuses for her husband–he was in the mood, he thought she wanted it like that, he was stressed–but nothing she came up with could convince her.

As he looked at her across the kitchen, she stood there in her sexy nurse outfit and hands in the washing up bowl, she got the sense that he was in the mood for more than clearing up. This was after all the effect she had been after. He wandered over to her and she pretended not to see him approach. He held the cleaver above his head and walked up behind her, he grabbed her hair and held the fake cleaver to her throat. For a moment she felt uneasy, and then figured it was Halloween, they were both consenting adults where was the harm. His outfit made her uncomfortable but she was prepared to go along with it if it bought them closer together. Before she knew it he was kneeling behind her and was dragging her panties down to her ankles leaving her exposed. He stood up and she could feel his hardness against her. He pushed her head forward over the sink and before she knew it he was inside her. The final straw came when he whispered in her ear ‘I’m gonna eat you all up.’ She knew he meant nothing by it but it changed her mood. But she couldn’t move, she was frozen to the spot, her head went somewhere her body wasn’t and she felt guilt like she had never known. Here was her husband being spontaneous and loving, and all that was going through her head was what her sister must have endured.

She knew he was close as his breathing became rapid, and the warm flood of fluid inside told her when it was over, she turned round and immediately placed her lips to his as she didn’t want him to see the tears rolling down her cheeks. She loved her husband but she would be glad when this Halloween farce was over, what had started as a promising night had sunk to depths she believed she had left behind long ago. He held her hand as they walked up the stairs, not a word spoken between them. It wasn’t until they were in the room and could clearly see that he was aroused again. She went into the bathroom hoping if she gave him enough time he would crash and fall asleep, after all it had been a long day for him. She’d pushed the bathroom door almost closed and set about brushing her teeth, when she felt a draught as the door was opened, Philip was there naked from the waist down but still with the bloodied chef jacket intact. He grabbed her round the waist and spun her round to face him. She was naked as she couldn’t wait to get out of her uniform and had not had chance to put her pyjamas on. He laid her on the floor and positioned himself between her thighs. She tried to close her legs but there was no way he was moving, he took it that she was playing along with his act still, and proceeded to use his knees to widen her thighs even more. He then set to work on nibbling his way up her torso until he reached her breasts where the nibbles became painful suckling and sharp bites. A couple of times she yelped in pain and he placed a hand over her mouth and told her not to wake the kids. He then pushed her legs further apart before entering her for the second time that evening, she was thankful that he was so turned on he didn’t last much longer than he had downstairs.

The next thing she remembered was he climbed off her and walked back to the bedroom. Five minutes later she heard the familiar grunting snore and knew it would be safe to let her emotions out.

For thirty minutes she sat in the tub, the blood had stopped, the aches were still very much alive and the feelings she felt for her husband weren’t going away any time soon. She cried not so much for what he had done, but for what she had lost–her loving husband. In all the years they had been married he had never once treated her in the manner he did last night. She wouldn’t give up on her marriage but she knew they had a long way back, if they could get back at all.

TWENTY FOUR

Wednesday 1st November 2017

Pinky sat at his desk once more knowing that time was running out for him to complete his book, his goal he’d set himself was Christmas Eve. He knew that if he was going to finish he could not tolerate any more distractions, so at just past seven he was writing once more.

Chapter 8

I know I have spent longer talking about Amy’s fifteenth birthday than I should have, but it is important. You will understand why I did what I did after you hear the full story. So I make no apologies for dragging this bit out, saying that I will now fast forward to the start of her party.

The night was scheduled to start at six o’clock, Amy and Hayley arrived back from their shopping trip around five and apart from a brief hello and a quizzical look from her, that was all I saw until she appeared at six on the dot. And what an entrance she made, she was wearing a dress which I could only describe as stunning, The dress was lemon yellow with large white daisies, her shoulders were bare and the hemline was a good six inches above her knee. Her shoes were simple white pumps. She looked gorgeous, as beautiful as I had ever seen her, and I was glad to see that she had kept her makeup to a minimum.

At this point the only people in attendance were her parents, sister, her aunt and cousin, and myself. Her dad insisted on taking lots of group photos and made sure that I was part of them. I then graciously offered to take the camera to ensure that he was a part of his own daughter’s party photoshoot. At six thirty people started arriving, the gathering was mainly compiled of hormonal young boys and girls of Amy’s age. Probably forty in total with a ratio of about twenty five girls and fifteen boys, I assumed they were all her school friends.

A lot of the boys were fairly geeky looking, but there were a couple with good looks and physiques to match, but I knew my Amy, she wasn’t the sort to be swayed by such things. She saw much deeper into people than the shallow depths that the vast majority of the population saw. One boy in particular got my attention, his name was Adam, he stood at six foot two, had a chiselled jaw line and I learned that he was the captain of the football team. He greeted Amy with a hug and a peck on the cheek which she returned and appeared to hang on for longer than was necessary. I could see I was going to have to keep an eye on him.

I gave her some space to mingle, besides I didn’t want to monopolise her the whole evening, I would have plenty of time as I was staying the night, so would get to spend time with her once the revelry was done. After everyone had eaten and the DJ had set up, the music started. It wasn’t my thing as I hated dancing, but the boys and girls seemed to be having a great time, especially Amy. I was happy for her. A couple of times I caught her eye and she waved at me, them finally I felt a tap on my shoulder and there she stood. She was glowing, the sweat from dancing beaded on her forehead, “Let’s get some air.” She said as she grabbed my hand and dragged me along. I could still feel the touch of her skin, it was to be the last time we held hands. Once outside she gave me a kiss, not on the cheek like she had with Adam, no this was on the lips.

“What was that for?” I asked, not that I was complaining.

“For being you, for helping mum and dad set all this up for me, they told me what a great help you’ve been all day.”

“It was a pleasure, I was glad I could help.”

“Have you met my cousin Madison yet?” She asked.

“Yes, we became acquainted earlier when her and her mum bought the food.” I told her, I didn’t elaborate any further.

“I think she has a crush on you, every time I’ve seen her tonight she has been looking at you.” She laughed as she said it. “Will you dance with me later, I know you don’t like dancing but I’m sure you can make an exception for me?” She knew I couldn’t resist when she gave me that look and talked like that.

“Of course I will.” I said without giving it a second thought that I hated dancing and could think of nothing worse to do. But if it meant I got to hold my Amy then it was a sacrifice worth making. As the evening went on I found very little in common with most of her friends and wondered what she saw in most of them. I tended to chat to the older people there, the conversation was considerably better. I chatted football with Mr Cooper (I was given permission to call him Rob), it turned out he was an Arsenal supporter. I talked about politics with Evie’s sister Gwen, we had quite a debate on the state of the NHS and how it could be made better.

It got to about ten and I realised I still hadn’t had my dance with Amy, not that I was in a rush to dance but I noticed she didn’t appear to be about. I asked Evie if she had seen Amy and she told me the last time she had seen her was about half an hour ago and she was talking to Adam. She looked a bit uncomfortable as she told me who Amy was talking to, she couldn’t hold eye contact. I thanked her and decided I would go hunting. I wandered round the garden for fifteen minutes and still no sign of her, I asked a couple of her friends, one of whom I was sure was her best friend Chelsea. She told me the same as Evie had, only she sniggered as she said it. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. My stomach churned at the thought of what Amy and Adam were doing, were they more than friends? Did she like him? Had she kissed him?

I decided to check the house, even though the house was supposed to be off limits to the party goers–there was a couple of portable loos in the garden behind the marquee. I could always claim I was just popping to my room to get something if challenged. I made my way to the stairs, checking the rooms along the way. I thought they may have been in the kitchen but on inspection it was empty, this was the first place I ever laid eyes on Amy. I made my way swiftly along the hall, a cursory glance in the sitting room, then I headed up the stairs. As I approached the top I could hear muffled noises, on the landing as I headed to the guest room (mine for the night) and the noises got louder. It sounded like moaning, I was outside my room when I realised the noises were coming from the room next door – Amy’s.

I crept along and saw that the door was shut, as I placed my ear to the door the noises were definitely coming from inside. My heart beat so fast in my chest I was sure she would hear me. I placed my hand on the door knob and slowly turned it, with as little movement as I could manage I pushed the door open millimetre by millimetre. The noise flooded out, I had watched enough porn movies to know what the sounds represented. As I opened the door enough to peer in I saw him, his eye caught mine but he didn’t miss a stroke. He just smirked at me and carried on. My Amy was lying on her bed with her dress hitched up and this oaf with his trousers and boxers round his ankles was fucking her. I didn’t want to see but I couldn’t leave. This wasn’t the plan; this was supposed to be me next year. I watched as she grabbed hold of him to pull him deeper into her, I had to throw up. I kept it in long enough to grab my bag from my room and make it all the way to my car. As I leaned by the passenger door the evening’s offering evacuated my stomach. I stayed in that position until nothing but water came up.

I realised I wouldn’t be able to get my car out as too many people had parked behind me. I slung my bag over my shoulder and started to walk, there was no way I was staying in the house knowing what I knew. I walked around for the next four hours, intermittently switching my moods between depression, anger, hatred. Hatred was the worst, I never believed I was capable of hating Amy. In the space of a couple of hours I had gone from a life to look forward to with Amy to a world where she would no longer exist. At two thirty I returned to the property, all the cars were gone and the house was in darkness, I was thankful for the tarmac drive rather than gravel. It wouldn’t matter once I started the engine because I would be long gone by the time anyone realised and made it down the stairs. I was half way home before I realised there was a note tucked under my windscreen wiper. It would have to wait until I got home.I didn’t go home though.

I must have read that note a hundred times that night. I still have it to this day, I think it is only fitting that I share it with my readers.

Pinky,

Hope everything is OK, sorry we didn’t get to have that dance, I was really looking forward to it. My aunt and Chelsea said you were looking for me, I’m sorry but I wasn’t feeling too good so I went to have a lie down for half an hour. I felt much better when I came back down but I couldn’t find you anywhere. I really hope you are alright and not ill. We will have to do something in the week if you are up to it.

Luv Amy xoxo

I never saw Amy or her family again until the night I met up with her in the chalet in Hemsby, and what a night that was.

TWENTY FIVE

Saturday 10th July 1993

By six Sian was sat at a table in the restaurant, she’d ordered breakfast of freshly squeezed orange juice, full English and toast with apricot jam. She washed it all down with a pot of tea for two. Sian had been lucky, her active job and high metabolism allowed her to eat pretty much what she wanted. She was hoping that Philip would join her for breakfast but had her reservations that he would. All she knew was that the drive back would be interesting. She did have an idea though, she was going to pick his brains about the case, if that didn’t break the ice nothing would.

At ten to seven she headed out to the car park, sure enough there was Philip standing by the car. “Morning, have you had breakfast? There’s time if you want to get some.” She asked as she approached the car.

“I’m fine, I grabbed a sandwich and Snickers from the shop. Is that everything or is there more to bring down?” He said indicating the bag she was carrying.

“This is it, I’ll just bung it in the boot.” She walked to the back of the car, her hair was still wet from her shower this morning. She was no longer going commando either, the thought bought back the memory of last night and what he’d whispered in her ear. She tried to put this to the back of her mind.

They set off a couple of minutes to seven; with any luck the traffic would be light. Barely had they started when Sian started to talk, she thought the sooner she tried to put last night behind them the better it would be for the both of them. “This case, I’ve never asked but do you have any thoughts on it. As the first one on the scene you have a unique perspective.”

“What do you mean a unique perspective?” He looked puzzled, but was glad that she didn’t appear to hold last night against him.

“As the first on scene you see it without any bias, let me give you an example. When I arrived the first thing I saw was the look of horror on your face, then Ray the lead SOCO came out and told me to be prepared for a scene like I’d never seen before. So as you can see my mind was already muddied with other opinions, and outside contaminants. You saw everything with no preconceptions, just your intuition. For instance when I asked if you called for medical help you informed me that you knew that wasn’t necessary–and you were right–but you determined that no one else. So do you see what I mean you did things as the first that others merely followed your lead and may not have observed things that could turn out to be important. Don’t get me wrong I’m not for one minute saying you missed anything, but if you are up to it could we go over the events of that morning.”

“Sure, I’ll try. I’m not sure what else there may be though.” He was pleased that she had asked for his help and it would give him something to occupy his mind for the journey home. “I won’t go over what I’ve already told you but there were a couple of things that have come to mind since the incident.” He offered.

“Like what?”

“I don’t recall seeing the room key in the chalet, was it handed in or found in the chalet?” She scribbled notes as he talked.

“I will check when we get back, but that’s good. These are questions that need answering.” She said.

“I understand that a woman checked in the afternoon before but it wasn’t the victim. Does this mean it was a woman that committed the crime, and if it wasn’t are we looking for two people?”

“We don’t know, it would be very unusual for this type of crime to be carried out by a woman, we think there may be a couple, or the one that did it has something over the woman who checked in to keep her silent. Something is stopping her from coming forward.” Sian conjectured, she wouldn’t dream of speculating like this with her colleagues in CID, they tended to like concrete leads, a leap of faith was all well and good if there was at least some evidence to point in that direction.

They had reached the last stretch of the M25 before turning of on the M11. Two hours and they should be home, Philip thought back to the morning of that fateful day. “Car?” He suddenly said.

“What?”

“Car, how did Amy get there, the cars in the car park were all accounted for, and yet she got there somehow. Do we know if she drove to Norfolk?”

“Her parents said she did.” She flipped back through her notebook until she came to the page she was looking for. “Yes, she drove a Rover 216S in gold. It was found in the car park on Beach road, that was one of the contributing factors in identifying her. Somebody reported the car after it had been left there for five days.”

“So Why did she park there and not the chalet park? And is there any CCTV from any of the businesses that overlook it. I’m sure they have already thought of that though.” He added.

“I will check with them.” She said.

“What I don’t understand is that from what I saw at the scene, and I tried to see as little as possible was it appeared whoever did it seemed to be after revenge or retribution or something. You don’t do that sort of thing just for the thrill of it. He had to have a reason. Why the heart? Or more importantly why only the heart? Is it a symbol, does it mean something, was it her boyfriend or ex?” His mind was now going nineteen to the dozen.

“We believe it to be a crime of passion, there are some things that are obviously kept back from the press, in this case a lot of the details were not released for reasons you know. But one crucial detail told us a lot about the person that did it, unfortunately I can’t share that with you.” We will catch the bastard that did it don’t worry.

He indicated to take the slip road onto the A11, they drove in silence for the next twenty minutes or so. Sian periodically looked across at him as he drove, she realised he was a very good looking young man–a little too young for her she would admit–he had a look of concern on his face. She hoped she hadn’t pushed him too hard over the case. He’d gone very pale.

“Are you alright? You look a little peaky. Pull off at the services and we’ll get a drink and stretch our legs.” She didn’t give him the option to protest, her tone told him it was not a question. After they’d stopped and both got a coffee and pastry they headed back to the station, it was barely eight thirty so they should be back by ten at the latest. Out of the blue and just before they turned off the A47 to make their way across to Caister he asked a question, “Will you send someone to the funeral to see if the person who did this turns up?”

“No, things like that only happen in the movies, it would be a waste of police time.” She said.

“Even though you believe it to be a crime of passion, if someone you purportedly loved died even though it was at your own hand, wouldn’t you feel the need to pay your last respects?”

“Someone as sick as the bastard that did what he did to that innocent girl is incapable of love, whatever he felt for her certainly wasn’t love or any incarnation of it. He is a sadistic twisted individual who deserves to rot in hell for the rest of eternity.” She responded.

Fifteen minutes later Philip pulled the car through the compound gates where the fleet of police vehicles were kept, he parked between two marked cars and the got out, he retrieved the bags from the boot and followed Sian into the building. When they got to CID she took the bags and thanked him for his time and for the driving. She was glad the trip was over and that the return wasn’t as awkward as she thought it might have been. He must have taken the previous night to be exactly what she did–a casual fuck to release all the pent up tension of the day.

TWENTY SIX

Wednesday 1st November 2017

Pinky couldn’t believe he had finished a whole chapter in one sitting, and it was only lunch time. If he continued his writing at this pace he would have no trouble hitting his deadline. For once he managed to get his food while it was hot, or at least as hot as it ever got. Today’s offering was toad in the hole with onion gravy; this was a greyish colour rather than the traditional brown. The mash was a lighter shade of grey, and the peas were more to the brown spectrum than the green. He still enjoyed it as he knew he would need the energy to keep up the pace of the morning, with any luck he thought he may have chapter nine finished by the end of the day. He was lucky that the others had for once been considerate to his needs.

Chapter 9

That wasn’t the end of that night, the night of Amy’s fifteenth party. No, although it was gone two thirty I wasn’t ready to go home. I had a full tank of petrol, so I decided to drive, driving always gave me clarity. With my anger at its height I tended to drive moderately, as my mood came down the speed increased. The worst was when the tears came, ones of sadness not anger, my foot would be pressed to the floor, I wouldn’t care if I lived or died. This was one of those nights when the pedal may as well have been glued to the floor. Through skinny country lanes, roads that were no more than tracks I just drove. I drove to no specific destination, as long as the car was moving I didn’t care what direction. Sometimes I would hit a dual carriageway, very occasionally a motorway, I tried to avoid both the latter options.

By five o’clock I passed a sign that said ‘Gloucester 5 miles’. My eyes were raw, and my throat was parched, I hadn’t drunk anything in nearly seven hours. I changed direction and made a decision of where to go, if I could find it. First I told myself I would stop as soon as I came to a service station. My body was crying out for fluids of any kind. Within thirty minutes I had joined the M4, as much as I hated the motorway I knew to get to where I was going I had to cross the river Severn and the quickest way was via the dreaded road. Just before I hit the bridge I pulled off at the services. The view was stunning from here, the Severn estuary in clear view, the span of the bridge. How could something so beautiful exist in a world with so much betrayal and evil–because what she did was pure evil. She knew I loved her, she knew I wanted to be with her and yet she could give her body away like a cheap fucking hooker. No she was worse than a hooker, a hooker would have charged for her services. My precious Amy just gave it away like it was nothing, and if I am being totally honest it didn’t look like it was the first time she’d given it away for free. I remember I sat there for the best part of an hour during which time I devoured three espressos, two cans of coke and a plate of chips. Thank god for service stations that never seemed to realise the time and you could get what you wanted when you wanted it.

At nine o’clock that morning I turned off the motorway when I saw the sign for Bryncethin, I knew that it was then a short distance to Heol-y-Cyw. You may ask what made me come here. When I was young and my parents were building up their business more and more of my time was spent with Beryl my childminder. For four years in a row she bought me here to where she grew up. I came with her and her children during the summer holidays, each time it was for a week, and I had never had happier times.

As I left Bryncethin I knew it was a ten minute journey. The long road that led to my destination was amazing, to the right were hills, to the left the old train tracks. If I remembered correctly the turning on the right just before I entered the village would lead me up to a natural spring. The place where as kids we loved to come and drink the water straight as it flowed from the side of the hill. I braked hard as I nearly missed the turn. A couple of hundred yards and I pulled over and parked my car on the verge to allow any other traffic to pass. I gat out and just as I remembered the spring was there flowing like it always had. It was nice to know that there was something I could rely on in this godforsaken world. I sat next to it and splashed water on my face. I looked out across the faraway hills, the smell of heather and lichen were ripe in the air. The sun was already well on its way to its peak and households below were beginning their day. They knew nothing of the plan I was hatching while I watched over them.

At the far end of the village I could see the house Beryl used to bring us to. It was the house she grew up in, the house her sister still lived in I hoped. Even if it wasn’t I was glad I’d come, the tranquillity and calming atmosphere had helped me put everything into perspective. I sat there for what must have been two hours deciding on my actions. If it was going to work I decided it couldn’t be now, I’d have to be patient and wait. I knew exactly when it would be done.

At eleven o’clock I stood in front of the door of number seventy eight, the home of Catherine, Beryl’s younger sister by three years. As I waited for the door to be answered my memory conjured up the last image I had of her, I was maybe thirteen at the time. She had white hair, not grey but strikingly white, she was tall and thin with an aged face. The weather from the constant gardening she used to do had taken its toll. She must be in her sixties by now. The door opened and there she was as if a day hadn’t passed.

“Pinky? It can’t be, can it?” She said.

“Hello Aunty Cathy, you look well.” I said, the shock of her not having aged still stunned me.

“It’s all the fresh air boy, it does wonders for the complexion. Come in, come in.” She ushered me in and all the familiar sights and smells returned, it was as if I’d never been away.

I remember I sat at the table with a cup of hot sweet tea in front of me, my Aunt Catherine was across from me at the same table I’d been at many times before. I couldn’t believe it when she told me she lost her husband Vincent a year ago, this was what happened when I didn’t keep in touch with people.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. What happened? He always seemed so healthy and fit.” I said, I didn’t know what else to say.

“He had a brain aneurysm while driving, I thank god there were no other cars about, but it haunts me every day that he was alone when it happened. The doctors have all told me it was instant and that he wouldn’t have known a thing, but I can’t shake the feeling that he was scared and alone. The irony was he’d only seen Doctor Hymer the week before and had been given a clean bill of health.”

I reached across the worn table and took her hands in mine, “Listen to me, he knew you loved him and wouldn’t want you thinking the things you are and blaming yourself.” I still couldn’t come to terms that I wouldn’t see my uncle Vince again (I knew they weren’t my real aunt and uncle but they had always meant more to me than my real ones). I took a sip of my tea, it was still too hot to drink but the pain on my tongue helped me keep it together for my aunts’ sake.

I watched as she wiped a tear from her eye, “Ignore me Pinky, I’m just being a stupid old woman. You’ve travelled all this way and here I am blubbering like a baby.”

“It’s alright auntie, I’m sorry I’ve bought it all back, I’d imagine the last thing you want to do is go over it all again.”

“I go over it day in and day out Pinky, it’s become a bit of a ritual.” She confessed. “Now tell me about you, I want to hear everything, and don’t skip anything.”

I had always got on well with Catherine, in fact I was the only one she allowed to call her Cathy. Even her niece and nephew didn’t have that privilege. When Beryl would bring me here on their family holiday I would often spend hours with ‘Auntie Cathy’ in her garden, either picking produce, tending the hens or just general maintenance. I was always keen to be with her rather than Beryl’s children, not that there was anything wrong with them, I just found them boring. Over the four summers I spent here I built a relationship with her, my biggest regret was that I hadn’t been in touch in nearly six years. I wasn’t there for her when she lost her beloved Vincent. I felt the emotion build inside me but knew I couldn’t let Catherine see it. So I told her all about Amy, I told her how much I loved her and my plans for our life together. What I didn’t tell her was that she was an evil lying slut. Even as I told her about some of our dates I felt my blood boil inside at what I’d witnessed less than twenty four hours ago. Would she have noticed that I hadn’t stayed last night, would she even care. Was Adam still in her bed this morning, he knew the answer was ‘no’, boys like Adam only wanted one thing, and when they had it all interest was lost. No, he would have fucked Amy then gone back down to the party to see if he could claim a second conquest. I knew exactly what a boy like Adam was like.

“She sounds absolutely delightful Pinky, next time maybe you could bring her with you. I would love to meet her, maybe you could come and spend a weekend or a week here. You know you are always welcome here Pinky. How are things at home these days?” She said.

“Thank you, I might just take you up on that offer. Amy would love it here and I can’t wait for you to meet her. My family are still the same, preoccupied with work, I don’t blame them. After all I was just an unfortunate accident, a mistake to be managed, nothing more. I’ve accepted my place in their lives, besides I have Amy, you, Beryl and friends. That’s all I need.” I didn’t tell her that I hadn’t seen or spoken to her sister in nearly a year, or that I didn’t have any friends. The kids I’d gone to school with I had no interest in, my work with Pete occupied most of my days and for the last year or so the only person I needed had been Amy. With Amy out of my life – and she was after last night – I had no one.

I sat there in silence while Catherine proceeded to pour a second cup of tea, I realised that I had ended up here by accident. When I left Amy’s house after collecting my car I hadn’t intended on being around the following morning. I had envisaged my body to be lying lifeless in the seat of my car after hitting or tree or other object that would have reached the same objective. Without Amy I couldn’t see any reason to carry on, yet something my Aunt said to me that day made me rethink my outlook. After I had told her about Amy she had said to me ‘always treat her as she deserves to be treated’ in that instant I knew exactly what she meant. My life would go on and I would live it to its fullest, I wouldn’t let anyone or anything get in my way ever again. As for Amy, my aunt was right I needed to treat her the way she deserved, it just wouldn’t be yet.

I noticed that as my aunt moved about the kitchen she had got slower over the years and wondered how much of this had been the stress of losing Vincent. She’d always had so much strength and energy but the previous few years had definitely taken its toll, not on the way she looked but in the way she acted.

“How are Christopher and James these days?” It had been a few years since I’d seen either one. I knew Chris better as he lived with Beryl for a while when he went to university in London. Although he was five years older than me and had a car we got on remarkably well. Chris loved swimming, so at least three nights a week when he came home from Uni he would take me with him to the local baths. He would try to scare me on the way by driving his black Ford Escort XR3i as fast as he could get it along the dual carriageway. Those nights were some of the best I remembered; I looked up to Chris more than anyone and was sorry I hadn’t kept in touch.

“Well James is in his final year at art college in Camberwell, and Christopher works for a large construction company as a civil engineer, oh and a couple of weeks ago he got engaged to his childhood girlfriend Theresa. Can you believe it, they went out for four years in secondary school, her family then moved away and they lost touch. Then out of the blue he goes to look at a job and who should be working in the office – Theresa. Well after a whirlwind reunion and a couple of months dating they saw no reason to wait. They get married in two months. I’ll make sure he adds you and Amy to the guest list, it will be great for you to catch up with them and fill them in on all your good news.

I stayed with my aunt until early evening, and despite her persistence that I shouldn’t drive back at such a late hour I finally said my goodbye at eight o’clock. I got in my car and like the previous night I decided to drive, not home, just drive. Unlike the previous night though my head was in a different place, tonight was the start of turning my life around. The biggest decision was that I wouldn’t be going home again, the second was that my days of working for that oaf Pete were also over. I was going to start over. Wherever my car took me would be where my new life would begin. I realised it meant I would never see my aunt Cathy again, or Beryl or even my mum and dad, but I had savings–at least enough to get by for a couple of months until I got a job.

As I crossed the border back in to good old England my spirits had never been better, I hadn’t forgotten about Amy. Her day would come when she would answer for the hurt she’d inflicted on me.

TWENTY SEVEN

Friday 2nd July 1993

He’d watched her for days, she was the one. Every morning he had been down to the seafront he’d seen her, it appeared that she’d been sleeping on the beach. The weather had certainly been good enough, but he felt it went deeper than that, she was homeless. This particular morning he decided to talk to her. He’d set off from his flat at five-thirty and drove straight to beach road in Hemsby, he only had today to get this sorted.

He parked his car as close to the front as he could, it was opposite the dinosaur adventure golf and on double yellow lines, this time of the morning he should be fine. He hoped she hadn’t already left, he wandered along the wooden planks which led to the beach where he had a decision to make. Left or right? He opted for left, the dunes were higher that way which would offer greater shelter if this was her abode. The sun was already drenching the sand, he did something he hadn’t done for a long time, took off his shoes and socks and planted his feet in the warm sand.

The tide was out but he could still see water lapping at the shore twenty metres to his right. His eyes scanned the dunes to the left, large tufts of grass covered the makeshift hills, well worn paths cut through at regular intervals and well used dips carved by a generation of hormonal teenagers. It was in one of these he hoped to find her, he was nearly a quarter of a mile up the beach when he saw her. It was only luck that she had put her head above the grass surrounding her, he’d been about to turn around and head back. She spotted him and immediately ducked back into hiding, but she was too late and she knew it.

“Hello!” He yelled up, he didn’t want to just sneak up on her. He watched the space where she’d appeared seconds earlier and slowly she began to appear. A Miami Dolphins cap was the first to show followed by a rather pretty face with the brightest of blue eyes. Her ragged greasy blonde hair hung limp from either side of the cap. Finally she stood up to reveal a matching Dolphins jersey two sizes too big and a pair of faded Levi 501’s, all of which would benefit from a service wash at the local laundrette. “I was wondering if you wanted breakfast?”

“Why, what are you after, you a perv or something?” She looked at him with suspicion.

“You look like you could do with a friend right now, I’m Pinky by the way.” He slowly started to make his way toward her.

“That’s a weird name, didn’t your parents like you?”

“It’s just a nickname, what’s your name?”

“You can call me Em.” Her initial suspicion of him appeared to be fading.

“So, what do you say to breakfast?”

“You paying?” Her accent wasn’t from the area, if Pinky had to guess it was from the West Country, possibly Devon or Somerset.

“Sure, you’re a long way from home aren’t you?”

“Are we getting breakfast or what?” As she talked she tucked her sleeping bag under a rather large looking bramble followed by her rucksack. She made her way down to where he stood. Up close he could see that her age was less than he had initially thought, he would be lucky if she was seventeen. They walked back the way he came, there was an American style diner just up from where he’d parked his car and would be a good place to get breakfast. They’d walked about a hundred metres in silence before she spoke. “Why are you doing this?”

“Like I said, you looked like you needed a friend. I’d seen you about for a while and I knew I could help you. Have you been sleeping rough long?”

“It’s only until I get myself sorted.” He noted the petulance in her response, and once again realised just how young she was. Her dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes made her look older, but her petite frame and immature body couldn’t hide the facts.

“How old are you?” He asked her outright.

“Nineteen.” He could tell from the way she wouldn’t look at him that she was lying.

“Now the truth” He countered. “It makes no difference to me how old you are, but please don’t lie to me. I only want to help.”

“I was sixteen ten days ago.” She finally admitted.

“OK, are you ready to eat?” They’d arrived at the diner, it was a little after six-thirty. The diner opened at six and already it was filling up with patrons. They sat at one of the booths towards the back; he didn’t want any one seeing them together. “Order whatever you want.” They both studied the menu intently; Pinky noticed that for an American diner they did a lot of English stuff. He ended up ordering a large stack of pancakes with maple syrup and cream with a large Americano to wash it down. Em ordered a cheeseburger, fries, large chocolate shake and a stack of pancakes. Pinky smiled as she gave the overly plump waitress her order. His smile grew even broader when he watched her take her last mouthful of food, he would have sworn that she would never be able to finish everything. “Do you want anything else?” He asked her, and was certain that she refused out of politeness rather than she was full up.

“What do you want from me?” Her defence was back up.

“Nothing, you need a helping hand and I’m in a position to offer it.” He noticed a considerable softening to her demeanour.

“My situation is only temporary until I get a job.”

“My point exactly, without an address no one will give you a job, one of the arcades may let you do some cleaning for a pittance, let me help you.”

“How?” She was beginning to look suspicious again.

“Take my spare room until you get on your feet.”

“What’s in it for you?” She started fiddling with the napkin, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger making it into a long tube.

“A flatmate, and the knowledge that I could help.” He said, “Do we have a deal?” He reached out a hand and it hung there for what seemed an eternity until she finally took it. Her hand was small and warm and he noted her fingernails were dirty.

“There’ll be no funny stuff, you do anything and I’ll scream rape.” She warned him. For all her bravado Pinky could see the scared little girl she was and genuinely felt sorry for her. He regretted that he would have to use her but his goal was bigger than both of them. After he convinced her to have another shake and he had a second coffee they headed back to his car, not forgetting to retrieve her few possessions from the dunes.

It was nearly eight when he parked on the shared driveway, the house was a three storey affair with the third in the roof space. The two dormer windows made the house look top heavy, the faded dirty white paint had flaked over the years. But Pinky liked living here, his apartment was the one in the roof space and he had a tremendous view over the quay, he liked watching the boats come and go, imagining sailing the seas on one of the largest cargo ships. Travelling to the Far East or South America, sampling the local girls he was sure they would never betray him.

Inside the house there was a small vestibule, three metal letter boxes hung on the wall to the left next to the front door for the ground floor apartment. The carpet was grubby and worn, the once floral pattern now a mess of blobs and swirls in varying shades of browns and greens. The flight of stairs carried the same carpet up to the first floor where there was a second landing with a door to the next apartment. The final flight led to s single door at the top, no landing this time just the yellowing white painted door. With Em behind him he opened the door, it led to a deceptively large open plan space. The floor was polished oak boards, the walls were whitewashed in a haphazard manner over the bare brickwork giving an industrial feel. The space was probably two thirds of the apartment, the kitchen to the far left incorporated a comfortable work space and a small island to separate it from the main living area. If this apartment had been on the other side of the quay and not where it was there would be no way that Pinky could afford it, but Southtown was the least desirable area of Yarmouth to live. He loved it and couldn’t understand why anyone would choose to pay the rents they were asking to be closer to the front, when he had this apartment which he adored.

“This is your apartment?” Em asked as she stood aghast in the vast space.

“It’s yours now too for as long as you need it. Here let me show you around, not that there is much to show, this is most of it.” He indicated with a wave of his arm. The spare room was sparsely furnished, a made up single bed was to the right with a chest of drawers next to it. A vintage wardrobe stood the other side next to a small wash hand basin–the property had previously been a guest house and as such every room had a small basin. He then showed her the bathroom and in keeping with the rest of the apartment had whitewashed brick walls and a tiled shower cubicle but no bath. The toilet and sink finished it off. Pinky kept the place very clean and could see the look on Em’s face that this was not what she had expected.

“Will you be alright here for an hour or so while I run a few errands, you can take a shower, there is a washing machine in the kitchen if you want to wash your clothes, I’ll get you a pair of tracksuit bottoms and t-shirt if you want from my room.” He vanished for thirty seconds before returning with the items.

“I’ll be fine, are you sure you don’t mind me staying here?” She still thought there was more to this than just him being nice, she was waiting for him to tell her exactly what this generosity was going to cost her.

“It’s fine, it will be nice having the company to be honest. Right I’ll be back in about in an hour or so.” He said no more before leaving.

He got in his car and drove to Gorleston, it took him about ten minutes to get there and another five to find just what he was looking for. Three quarters of the way down Marine Parade he spotted it, a bright red telephone box. He drove past and parked about a hundred yards further down the road. He walked back with the piece of paper in his hand and a pocketful of coins. Inside the booth he picked up the receiver and dialled the number for Belle Vista Chalet Park.

“Good morning, Belle Vista Chalet Park, Rebecca speaking. How may I help you?”

“Hello, I was wondering if I could book a chalet for tomorrow night?”

“Of course sir, I’ll just check that one is available.” She offered. “Yes we have one.”

He booked the room under the name of Mr and Mrs Heart, and was told that he could pick the key up after two o’clock and that the room would need to be vacated by ten the following morning. He had chosen that particular park for its less than flattering reputation. Rumour had it that it was not averse to renting rooms to professional girls to help them run their personal service businesses. He knew that the number of comings and goings from the park would offer a certain amount of anonymity.

Once he had booked the room he could feel his heart race quicken with the looming prospect of the coming night. He drove home with his excitement building, he had one more stop to make, the charity shop. Two minutes from home he found the one he wanted, it was always busy and they had loads of second hand clothes. He picked out a few items and paid, the cashier hardly noticed him.

He let himself back into his apartment, and found Em seated on the sofa, her legs curled beneath her watching telly. She’d had a shower and he saw her for what she was–a frightened beautiful young girl out of her depth. “Hi, I picked you up a couple of bits while I was out, they’ll do you until you get out and get some of your own. I’ll give you some money when I get paid on Monday.”

“Thank you, you don’t have to give me any money. I’m gonna get a job, I don’t care what I do but I will pay you back.” She turned in her seat, her wet hair hung down the side of her face, she could see her life turning around, this was going to be the start of a new journey for her. She would forget about her abusive step dad, and her mum that ignored what he did to her. Yes this would be a fresh start. Justine Talbot was dead, now she would be Emily Richards. She sat there watching the television with a smile broader than the Cheshire cats as Pinky made them something to eat in the kitchenette.

TWENTY EIGHT

Monday 6th November 2017

Pinky had come to the point in his book where he had to make a decision, should he be completely honest or not. What he did to Amy was justified, in his mind everything involving Amy Cooper followed a logical progression. From the first time he laid eyes on her to the final moments of her life. That was his story and he didn’t think tainting it with the senseless act he committed on Emily Richards really needed to be included. But part of him kept saying it was all the same journey, that to leave it out would somehow leave the reader a little perplexed as to how he ended up where he did.

In the end he decided he would mention her sort of as a co-conspirator but leave the reader wondering exactly what happened to her, they could make their own minds up. The next chapter he was going to write was one that would show his superiority over Amy, it was how he managed to get her to the chalet.

The block had been fairly quiet recently; they’d been informed that a new cell mate would be joining them in a couple of weeks. The cell opposite Pinky’s had been cleared out and had even been given a coat of white emulsion. It wasn’t clear yet who the new inmate would be but Pinky knew that a big story in the news lately was about the couple who’d murdered their lodgers. It appeared that over the course of twenty five years the couple had taken in the homeless, fed and clothed them and supposedly set them on a new path, in their local town they were hailed as heroes. It emerged that what they had actually been doing was raping and abusing them before killing them and disposing of the bodies in their back garden. It was only when the water company had a burst main and they had to dig a large area to the side of their rear garden that a bone was discovered.

Apparently over the years the earth had shifted just enough to push a femur a few inches outside the boundary of their garden. Once the bone had been identified as human a full scale excavation had ensued, though before that happened Mr Isaac Thompson was found hanged in the garage, and Mrs Thompson had tried suffocating herself on the exhaust of their car while her husband swung from the rafters. Unfortunately for her a neighbour heard the car and alerted the authorities. Mrs Irene Thompson was now under tight security at the local hospital and was expected to make a full recovery.

If Pinky was a betting man he would wager she was the next inmate. She would be the sort of person that would fit right in. But he needed to put those thoughts away for the time being, he had a book to finish.

Chapter 10

It wasn’t easy getting Amy to be where I wanted her to be. Somehow I had to figure out how to get her from her home in Hertfordshire to the Norfolk coast. I knew this was going to be easier said than done, but like always I had a plan. I knew she had just finished her A-levels and would be going to university in September, all I needed was an excuse to get her to come to Norfolk.

For my plan to work I needed a few things, the main one being some letter headed paper from the University of East Anglia where I’d discovered she was going to be attending. I already knew her address and telephone number and I wasn’t sure if the final thing I would be able to get–her enrolment number-just to make it appear legitimate. If I couldn’t get it I would just have to hope she wasn’t smart enough to contact the University to confirm. As it turned out the University were very lapse in their data management, all I had to do was phone up with Amy’s date of birth, course details, address and contact number and explain that I was calling about her funding and that I appeared to be missing her enrolment number from her application and just like that they handed it over.

So one month before I needed her to come I sent her a Letter from the University. It explained that as a new student the midwifery faculty were holding an informal get together so that students could get to know other students and faculty members before the course began in September. I hoped I’d worded it just right and I’d even enclosed a return envelope so that she could reply to accept or decline. The letter strongly advised students to attend citing all the positives to be gained. The return envelope had a PO Box address, this was the only risk I took as it was the only thing that could be traced back to me. My only hope was that she would fill out the form, send it back in the stamped addressed envelope and not keep a note of the PO Box number. If she did it would be game over as soon as they investigated and discovered that the University organised event was nothing of the sort. The letter also advised that the day prior to the event she would receive a phone call advising of her room number.

I thought that I had all bases covered, and the only other thing I would need was a gullible person to make the phone call and collect the key from reception. The latter was a safeguard, I needed Amy to go straight to the chalet because if she went to the reception she may enquire if others had arrived for the midwifery conference that was being held. No I wanted her in the chalet before she knew something wasn’t right. The plan sounded a bit long winded even in my own head but all the other scenarios I could come up with wouldn’t work. School reunion-she could check with old friends, a party-again she could check who was going and would ask questions. I had even considered being honest and open and inviting her to come and see me and my new life in Norfolk. On reflection I knew she would tell people where she was going and whom she was meeting, the only way I could see this working was the way I had planned. The unfortunate side was that someone was going to get hurt other than Amy–I couldn’t have any loose ends.

I can recall the day I posted the letter like it was yesterday. I stood at the post box letter in hand and hovered around it unsure whether I would go through with it. As much as Amy hurt me I still loved her, but I didn’t believe that could be enough. To this day I know I did the right thing, I couldn’t have lived my life knowing that she was with someone else. Anything was better than that possibility, and I knew I could never be with her after what she had done. I’d found a post box closest to the University in Norwich as I could, I was leaving nothing to chance, nothing that she could question.

After that day all I had to do was wait and boy did she make me wait. I would come home from work every day and pray that the PO Box letter would be in my mail box (I’d paid extra to have the PO Box mail delivered to my address, it made no difference as the Royal Mail had all my details anyway when I registered it). It was on Friday the eleventh of June that it finally arrived. I took the letter up to my apartment, I set it on the counter and just stared at it. What if she’d declined the invitation? Scarier still was if she’d accepted. It was nine o’clock before I plucked up the courage to open it, I ran a sharp knife under the flap and removed the slip of paper from the envelope. Unfolding it I saw that she had clearly put a tick in the box indicating her acceptance. I was overjoyed and at the same time scared to death. I was really going to do it. It wasn’t the actual act that bothered me it was the begging that I was sure would come with it. There was nothing I hated more than whining girls, yet I knew that was exactly what I was going to get when Amy realised what was going to happen to her.

For days after receiving confirmation that she would be attending I was on cloud nine. I think my colleagues at work wondered where my gaiety had come from, I also started talking to a couple of my female workers which I never really had the confidence to do. It would be just over three weeks until I would finally get to see Amy again.

I’d already decided on how to get an accomplice to help me, during my work I had come across transients who would camp on the beach during the summer season. One of these would do, I would just need to pick the right one, young, vulnerable and with nothing to lose. I started keeping an eye out the day after receiving the letter.

Like I said earlier Emily Richards is and isn’t part of the story.

TWENTY NINE

Friday 2nd July 1993

Pinky didn’t have a phone in his apartment which was convenient for what he needed. Today was the day he had to let Amy know her chalet number for the upcoming midwifery conference organised by the University of East Anglia. And the last thing he needed was for the call to be traced back to his home address. The next thing he had to do was convince Em that he needed her to make a phone call. It was eleven thirty when he sat down next to Em on the sofa and handed her the lunch he had just made–beans on toast–he had to get her on side as quickly as possible as time was running out, the phone call needed to be made by three o’clock.

“So Em, what is Em short for?” He asked as he tucked into his lunch.

“Emily” She managed between mouthfuls.

“I’m assuming you’ve run away from home – it’s none of my business, I just want you to know that you are safe here.”

“Thank you. What do you do?”

“I work in the office at the University of East Anglia.” He lied. He had been hoping she’d ask what he did for a living.

“What do you do there?”

“Oh, I organise conferences and things like that.” He carried on eating hoping that she would take the bait.

“Do they have any jobs going at the moment?” She had taken it hook, line and sinker.

“Actually they do have a couple of junior positions available, I’ll tell you what, I have to go and make a few phone calls later, maybe you could give me a hand and we’ll see what we can do about getting you a job. I should have made them yesterday at work but three of the people I had to call weren’t in and I forgot to ask someone else to call them as I’m off today and the weekend and the calls are really important. So I’ll have to nip out after lunch and find a call box, I’ll make a couple of them so you can see what I do, then you can make the last one, how does that sound?”

“You’d really try and get me a job?”

“We’ll see how you get on this afternoon and then on Monday when I’m back at work I’ll have a word with my boss and see if I can persuade her to get you in for an interview.” That was the first step sorted; the second should be easy if she thought it would lead to full time employment. They ate the rest of their lunch in silence.

It was one o’clock before they left; she had to try on all four outfits he’d picked up from the charity shop before going back to the first one. She looked even younger if that was possible in the lemon yellow summer dress that had cost him one pound fifty. She still wore her grubby white trainers with it which made her look adorable. They walked to the phone box down the end of the road, “So if you listen to what I say then when it comes to your turn I’ll be there in case you stumble or forget what to say, okay?”

“Yes, I think so.” They had arrived at the red box and they both managed to squeeze in, he could smell the coal tar soap from his bathroom on her. He held up the piece of paper which had three names on it, he dialled the first one, it was a made up number. He pretended to let it ring a few times.

“Hello, could I speak to Miss A Taylor please?” He waited for the fictional person to say that they were indeed Miss A Taylor before responding. “I’m calling from the University of East Anglia in regards the midwifery conference tomorrow and would like to confirm your chalet number is forty-five and that you can head straight to it as a representative will meet you there on arrival.” Another slight pause, “Thank you, you have a nice day too.” Then he hung up the phone. He made the second call and followed pretty much the same script, then he handed Emily the phone and read the number for her to dial. He could hear the call as she held the phone to her ear closest to him. He moved even closer just so he would be able to hear Amy’s voice. The phone seemed to ring for an eternity but finally it was answered and it was the unmistakable voice of his once beloved. Emily went through the script the same way Pinky had done, she confirmed the room number that he had on the piece of paper. Once she hung up she asked Pinky if she was good enough.

“You’re a natural; I can’t see any reason why my boss won’t agree to see you.” He said before adding, “In fact if you want you can help me again tomorrow?”

“Really, you’d really let me help you?” The excitement in her voice almost made him feel guilty, but now was not the time to be having second thoughts.

“Of course, there isn’t a lot to do but yes you can help. Right let’s get back and we can watch a film or something if you want?” He said.

“OK”

They went back to his apartment and spent the afternoon watching reruns of old Morecambe and Wise shows, Pinky had pretty much all their shows and films on VHS cassettes. His favourite which they had just finished watching was ‘That Riviera Touch’, he could see that Emily wasn’t into it as much as he was and had promised her that the next thing they watched could be her choice.

It was gone midnight when they finally turned in, tomorrow was a big day. Tomorrow was the day when he could lay all his demons to rest and start the rest of his life. It had been on hold for long enough, he was sorry for Emily, she was just unlucky and in the wrong place at the wrong time. In another life or another dimension maybe things could be different for them, but until he sorted out his past he couldn’t carry on with his future. As he laid there in his bed, the covers screwed up at the base, the heat in the room was unbearable. He wondered what Emily was doing in the next room, he hoped she was asleep and having a pleasant dream. She deserved to have one last night of peaceful dreams.

He felt the sweat drip from his brow onto his pillow, he needed to get some sleep for his big day but the heat was smothering him. He must have drifted off around two, because he didn’t wake until gone nine. He was annoyed at himself as he’d hoped to get an early start.

THIRTY

Chapter 11

Saturday July 3rd 1993

I am going to tell you about Amy Cooper and her last day alive. Not that she knew it was going to be her last day, I am certain that if she had she would have done things considerably different. I have said previously it was the third day of July nineteen ninety three, a day I will never forget and a day Amy would wish she could have done over. But before we get to Amy I had to enlist the help of Emily, I’m not certain that was her real name, something about it didn’t ring true for me. It just didn’t seem to fit with who she was if you know what I mean.

We got off to a later start than I planned and the first thing I had to do even before Emily woke was to get my bag ready for the evening’s event. It was a back pack style affair in grey with a yellow trim; various compartments to secrete the numerous items I would need. It took me quite a while to decide whether to use any form of restraint. I weighed up the pros and the cons but in the end I decided to leave it to fate, if she overpowered me and got away then she deserved to be free. I must have checked my bag half a dozen times before I was satisfied. The room would be available from two o’clock which gave me a very small window to accomplish a lot, I had told Amy that her chalet would be available from three, so I had an hour for Emily to get the key, and for me to take her back to my flat before I returned to greet my guest. My plan for Emily would be a bit rushed but it needed to be done today.

It was nine-thirty when Emily got up; I made her a breakfast and then explained the plan for the day. I asked her if she would be willing to run a few errands for me and she seemed more than happy to oblige. All but one of the jobs I requested of her was bogus; they were meaningless tasks that would allow me to think about the itinerary for the evening.

I watched her as she sat on the bar stool opposite me at the breakfast bar, she was wearing one of my t-shirts and not a lot else. If things had been different I might have gone there, but I couldn’t take the risk. Any form of intimacy could jeopardise my plan. I had to admit watching her eating her toast, the way her eyes closed with each swallow and the obvious protrusions at the front of the t-shirt did make me hard. I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling was for her or the thought of Amy and what may materialise later that evening. Don’t get me wrong Emily was beautiful but wasn’t in the same stratosphere as Amy.

“So have you done me a list of my jobs?” She asked and I remember how guilty I felt at such an innocent question. I knew I was lying to her, using her. Deep down I knew she deserved better, part of me wished I could have taken her to the dunes and put her back where I found her and forgotten ever having met her. But things were too close to back out now, Emily’s fate was sealed just as it was for Amy. As it happened I had made her a list, it was bogus like most things on it; the true task was the last one. To go to the reception of the Belle Vista chalet park at two o’clock and then meet me outside the laundrette opposite the entrance to the park. I didn’t want to be seen in the park until it was time; the last thing I wanted was for someone to remember me loitering. No I would be sat in the café next to the aforementioned establishment enjoying an Americano and maybe a Danish-I was going to need all the strength I could muster.

We ate the rest of our meal in silence and then she went and got dressed. I wish I could say that when she returned all carnal thoughts had vanished, but they hadn’t. How could they when she was wearing the summer dress I bought her minus underwear. How was a man supposed to concentrate when confronted by such things, I did wonder if it was a test. A test to try to dissuade me from completing my revenge of Amy Cooper. Nothing could detract me from my mission though.

At eleven o’clock we ventured out of the house, Emily with her list in her hand and me with my back-pack. I drove to the seafront in Hemsby where I parked in a pay and display, my car was a dark blue Ford Fiesta–a heap of junk to be honest, about ten years old. It didn’t draw attention to itself which I was glad about, but just to be safe I parked in the middle of a row not too far from the entrance and not too close to the back–and I paid for the whole day. In my experience people reported cars that were left at the rear of car parks for hours on end, they never noticed ones in the middle for some reason.

With the car locked I sent Emily on her errands, if I had compiled the list right she would be ready to pick the key up around one thirty meaning she would have to hang about until two. This was intentional, I wanted Emily to be remembered by people. When the police started asking questions it would be her they would remember and not me, I would be nowhere near the park until I absolutely had to be. Even then my time on the park would be minimal, I’d planned the quickest route from the entrance to the chalet. I figured I would be visible on the park for about one minute thirty seconds, and then the same again when I left which hopefully would be after dark.

I left my back-pack in the boot of the car while I went for a wander along the beach, I’d taken one small packet from my bag which I had stuffed in my pocket. This packet had been a stroke of luck, I’d relieved someone of it only a few days before and it had offered a solution to a problem I was going to have. I’d chosen my most non-descript clothes for the day, a pair of faded jeans and a white t-shirt, I was one of a hundred others in similar outfits. The t-shirt was plain; I didn’t want any clever or memorable slogan that people could remember.

As I made my way along beach road the sights and sounds bombarded me from the arcades, how anybody could stand and play the mindless games was a mystery. If you are going to put your money in a machine for the sheer fun of it why not just chuck it in the bin and save your sanity. I watched as moron after moron pushed coins into the little slots and the sheer glee on their faces just confused me.

I approached the end and the sharp right hand bend, I turned left onto the large open car park nestled behind the dunes. The area was a mix of grass, sand and bare dirt where over the years cars had made makeshift spaces. The sun was hot even for July, and I felt the sweat bead on the back of my neck. The seagulls circled overhead hoping for a careless holidaymaker to leave some food unattended. Though they weren’t shy on the coast, they’d been known to swoop and take food straight from the hand.

I walked until I found what I was looking for, a handrail and some roughly hewn steps up the steep dune. I climbed until I reached the top where the expanse of the North Sea opened up in front of me. Once at the top I walked along until I came to the spot I wanted, a cursory glance along the beach both ways revealed that I was alone. With the exception of a man playing with his dog maybe a quarter of a mile down the beach I had the stretch to myself. I made my way to the dip in which I found Emily and sat where she had once sat. I could understand why she had made this her home, the deep dip allowed for protection from the night air and when laying she would be completely hidden from the rest of the world.

I looked around at the area, it was maybe an eight feet diameter space, not quite circular as it had an odd offshoot towards the front left where it looked like someone had previously had a fire. The scorched earth still had the remnants of half burnt twigs and the smell of damp ash. I wondered if maybe Emily had cooked meals here, or just made a fire to keep warm, but that didn’t ring true. She was trying to stay invisible so there would be no way she would start a fire and risk someone reporting it or coming to question her. Also hidden under a wild gorse bush next to it were hundreds of bottles and cans, it was amongst these that I hid the package I’d been carrying. In the bag was an old tobacco tin in a puce green colour and the words ‘Golden Virginia’ just legible, years of abuse had scratched off most of the design.

With my package now hidden it was a welcome relief, the last thing I needed was to be caught with that particular item on me. I moved away from the dip and went down the dune to the beach. The man and his dog had vanished and I was truly alone now on the stretch of sand. I remember it like it was yesterday as I sat there on the sand, my trainers beside me with socks neatly tucked in them. I buried my feet in the sand and rested back on my elbows with my face pointed to the sun and my eyes closed. I listened to the sound of the surf gently lapping at the shore, the distant sound of the arcades still drifted to me. Kids screaming and having fun just about penetrated over the dunes unfortunately, but I managed to tune most of it out.

As I pondered the events unfolding later I began to have doubts. Doubts about everything. Did I really want to take Amy out of my life forever? Should I just get in my car and forget everything and start again? Did Emily deserve to be punished for doing nothing wrong? Every time I thought about just leaving and never coming back images would start playing in my head. It was as if a movie reel was on a constant loop in my brain, one I couldn’t stop no matter how hard I tried. The movie in its entirety was no longer than twenty seconds, though it lasted an eternity.

His face haunted my every sleeping moment, the smug look and casual disregard he had for the girl beneath him turned my stomach. She was oblivious to it but was also a willing participant. I wish I could conjure up a scenario where she was a victim, where he had taken advantage or worse still forced himself on her. But I couldn’t. It would have been easier if he had raped her. But for the twenty seconds I stood at that door there was no denying that she was not only taking part but a more than eager partner. The sounds of her moans, the way her body responded to his, the way she urged him deeper and faster. No, there was no possibility that she had not been a part of the union. She was as guilty as he was.

I opened my eyes as a shadow passed before me, less than six feet from where I sat a young couple sauntered past hand in hand, they appeared not to even notice me which I was grateful for. I watched them as they carried on up the beach and every now and then they would stop and face each other for a lingering kiss. I went back to my own thoughts and closed my eyes once more, only this time my mind was made up, the evening would go as planned. So now I just lay there and pictured my life as it was going to be post Amy. As much as I loved her I knew I could love another, maybe not the same–no one could replace Amy Cooper-but maybe enough to make a happy life.

It was also during this time of self-reflection that I had decided to write my book. I didn’t know when but I knew that one day I would sit down and put pencil to paper to document just why Amy Cooper had to die, and die in the manner in which she did. I don’t expect sympathy from it or forgiveness, just understanding. Many people will never love the way I loved Amy and therefore will never grasp the concept of eternal love. Those who do however will be sitting thinking ‘Yes I get where he is coming from’ and they are the ones who will get the most from my book. If you are sitting there thinking that this guy is a lunatic and should be in a mental asylum I can assure you that you’re wrong. In fact I feel sorry for you, that you have never been that deeply in love tells me that you must be a very sad and lonely person. Yes you might have a wife, family and lots of money but if you can honestly say that you would not have done what I did if you couldn’t be with the one you love then what you have isn’t love. And I pity you.

THIRTY ONE

Saturday 3rd July 1993

It was five past two when Emily emerged from the park and went over to Pinky’s table outside the café. He still couldn’t believe how beautiful she was, in the sunlight her features were accentuated and he couldn’t believe he was about to do what he was. But unfortunately for Emily this just wasn’t her time, in another life he would definitely have been interested in her. If he had more time he would let her go and find himself another accomplice but needs dictated his schedule.

“Here’s the key.” She said handing him the overly large wooden key fob.

“Thanks, here I got you a lunch to go. I thought we could go down to the beach for a walk. As long as you’re okay walking and eating?” He handed her the takeaway bag.

“That would be nice.” She said taking the proffered bag from him and digging out the paper wrapped cheeseburger. She took a mouthful before speaking. “So is that all the chores done for the day?”

“Yes, that is our work done, well until his evening anyway. Would you like to come with me tonight to the event? I can’t say it will be riveting but there will be food and drink and a chance for me to introduce you to my boss. I can make the introduction and we can see if we can get you an interview. What do you think?”

“Really!” She said between mouthfuls of food and a swig of the large thick chocolate milkshake he’d bought her.

“Why not, I think it would be good if we could get you back on your feet again.” They passed Caesar’s Palace on the right, the music blared from large speakers situated just inside the door. Meatloaf and ‘Bat out of hell’ never did it for Pinky, he was more of a love song guy. They walked past a number of other arcades each peddling their own kind of fun and games, the bright lights and the incessant jingles from the machines all that was needed to entice youngsters in and part them from their parents hard earned cash. He let her eat her dinner in peace as they carried on walking. He wanted her to enjoy this meal more than anything else in the world. He watched as she took the last mouthful and last dregs as she slurped at her drink before chucking the wrappers in the bin.

He guided her through the car park at the end of the road, the same route he had taken not too long ago. They reached the steps up in to the dunes and he held back to let her go first, it wasn’t chivalry it was that he wanted to watch as she walked up the steps. The sight of her bare legs up to the hem of the dress and his imagination worked wonders as to what lay beyond was enough to get him hard and once more the doubts began to creep in.

They walked along until he came to a stop. She looked at the dip and recognised it instantly. “Why have we come here?” She said, unease in her voice.

“I thought it would be nice to come back to where we met and to look forward to the future–your future. Let’s sit for a while.”

“Okay.” She said sitting on his right, She said with her arms around her knees, huddled like it was cold but the temperature was in the eighties.

“So tell me your real story, you know you are safe with me don’t you?” He said, his eyes were focused on the pile of old bottles and cans to his left. He wanted to know her story.

“I think so. My story isn’t so different from other girls.” She began looking out to sea, Pinky noticed that as she spoke she appeared to drift off somewhere, almost to another world, a world that she had run from, a place that she would never stop running from. “I lived with my mum, my dad left before I was born and things were good. My mum gave me as much as she could, not that we had much but there was always plenty of love to go around. Things changed when I was twelve, my mum lost her job at the hotel where she worked, it was cutbacks they said. Although she wasn’t out of work for more than a few days it was her next job that became the problem. My mum is beautiful, I don’t just mean she was attractive she could have been a model if things had been different.

Her new job was working as a hostess in a club, I don’t really know what sort of a club it was but her boss was a complete bastard. She never told me what he did but I would hear her cry herself to sleep at night when she arrived home in the early hours of the morning. For weeks I listened then one night she returned home with her boss and they were all over each other. I figured whatever he had been making her do for him she decided it was easier to go along with it. It was gone midnight that night and I’d been watching ‘Dawn of the Dead’ I was wearing ‘My Little Pony’ pj’s, they ambled through the door like they were Siamese twins. His hand was up her short tight top and had her breast in his hand, the other he had planted on her arse. His tongue was shoved so far down her throat he was almost suffocating her. And then he saw me. My mum was pissed out of her head and as soon as he disconnected himself from her she slumped to the ground in a heap. He looked at me and I could see in his eyes that he was going to be trouble. After he’d looked me up and down he grabbed my wrist and said we should go upstairs for a bit of fun. His breath stank of cigarettes and whiskey. I pulled away from him but he just pulled my hair and dragged me up to my bedroom, I remembered he commented on my pink striped wallpaper. Lucky for me he couldn’t get it up that night, but he made me suck it in the hope he could. Eventually he fell asleep, that was just the first time. I was thirteen. He raped me countless times over two years. I left last week after I hit him with a cast iron frying pan.” The last sentence made her burst out laughing, it was a strange sound mixed with the gentle sobs that had accompanied most of the narrative.

He put his right arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him, he felt her body shake against his own. For a girl her age she had gone through far more than she should ever have to. He hesitated for a moment as he used his left hand to grab something from out of the debris beside him. He knew exactly the right place as he’d placed the object there a short while ago. He was glad that this would be the last thing she saw, a group of seals played a short way from the beach. “Look at the seals Emily.” He said.

“Seals, where.” She lifted her head up and was scanning the sea as his left hand came across and plunged the syringe in to her abdomen, before she had time to react he unloaded the full contents

“I’m so sorry.” He sobbed as he held her to his body, she started to struggle.

“What did you do?” Her body began to go limp.

“I’m setting you free.”

“Why Pinky?” And she was gone. He held her tight and cried, he hadn’t wanted to do it but he couldn’t have her messing with his plans for Amy. After a while he laid her down and covered her as best he could with the gorse and grasses from around the dip, with any luck her body wouldn’t be discovered for a couple of days. He wiped the syringe and placed it next to her, the amount of heroin would have been enough to bring down a small elephant. It had come from a reputable supplier so he knew it would work as he needed it to.

She looked peaceful, almost angelic but in his heart he knew he had done what was best for her, this life she was living would have ended in tragedy one way or another. He had just speeded up the process.

THIRTY TWO

Friday 24th November 2017

It had been almost two weeks since he’d added any pages to his manuscript and Pinky was pissed. Pissed was a bit of an understatement, he was fucked off to hell and back. Everything over the last two weeks had conspired to keep him from working on it. The last day he’d written had been Monday the twentieth of November, but even before that the only real pages that had been added were at the beginning of the month. For some reason he was struggling to write about the night of Amy’s death, the part of the book he’d been most looking forward to writing. But so far almost twenty pages had been thrown in the wastebasket. The last chapter he wrote he had managed to get down a satisfactory start of the nights events, but since that time no creativeness had managed to flow.

On Tuesday the twenty-first at seven thirty-five in the morning Michael Carter took his own life, the pool of blood stretched from the rear of his cell and out into the main area. Rules were very strict on sharp objects or anything that could potentially be used for an inmate to take their own life. However that didn’t allow for a persons overwhelming urge to die, and nothing the authorities could have done would have prevented Michael doing what he did. For some reason unknown to anyone he took two large bites–one from each wrist–and sat down at the back of his cell. The first anyone knew was the night guard seeing the pool of blood from his post as it made its way out of Babyface’s cell.

What was amazing that while he bit himself he never made a sound, the pain must have been excruciating from seeing the wounds, he had literally torn chunks from his wrist, not just broken the skin but actual chunks. The two pieces were found next to his body in the blood where he had spat them out. Pinky remembered the upheaval of the day; all the inmates had to be removed from their cells into another wing where there were empty ones waiting. They had to leave all their belongings, and because of the nature of the criminals they used four guards per prisoner, which meant they had to wait for two more to be bought in to help.

While they were waiting Charles Montgomery gave the rest of the block a commentary on exactly what he could see in Babyface’s cell. Although he could only see the feet of Michael sticking out from the privacy screen he did have the best view of the volume of blood that had escaped the poor man’s body. “Why didn’t you tell someone when you first saw that something was wrong?” Pinky asked him.

“I was asleep, I didn’t see anything. It was only when all the commotion started that I realised something wasn’t right with old Babyface over there.”

“So you didn’t see or hear anything?”

“I just said didn’t I. No, I saw nothing.”

“Well this is going to ruin the rest of the day. It will take them hours to clean up his cell before we’ll be allowed back onto the block.” Pinky was really pissed off with Babyface for his impeccable timing.

As Pinky thought it was gone four before they were all tucked up back in their cells again. And he knew the next week would be a right off as the new inmate would be arriving around noon the following day.

But here he was on the first of December and he had a pencil in his hand and paper on the desk in front of him. He’d been waiting for this moment when he could finally finish telling his story of the night Amy Cooper ceased to be alive. With just over three weeks to conclude his book he knew it would be a mammoth task but was adamant that he wouldn’t grant himself an extension. With that last thought in his mind he started to write.

Chapter 12

In the last chapter I told you about my doubts, although I knew what I had to do these doubts didn’t go away. Don’t get me wrong I did the right thing for the right reasons, but part of me will always wonder if there could have been a chance for us if I had been able to forgive and forget. In my heart I knew it could never happen, mainly because of the film reel which would have been constantly playing in my head. But back to the story.

I arrived at the café next to the laundrette at one o’clock, I ordered something to eat and a drink and took a seat outside. I had a good view of the park and anyone that came or went. I could also see down beach road so I would know when Emily arrived to pick up the key. Now I won’t bore you with how I sat and waited, watched her enter and come out, how I bought her lunch to go etcetera etcetera. But to cut a long story short Emily and I took a walk along the beach until two thirty.

On my way back to my car I had a couple of items to get from the mini supermarket on one of the other parks. Most of tonight’s provisions were in my back pack, but the last two items I needed had to be fresh-butter and double cream. When I returned I found the car park almost full, I grabbed my back-pack from the boot and placed the couple of items I’d just bought in it. A family a couple of cars along were unloading their car, they’d obviously just arrived and were headed to the beach judging by all the buckets and spades. I’ll admit here and now that seeing the family made me mad, not for the reason you may be thinking. It wasn’t that I didn’t like seeing people happy, it was thinking about what my life would have been had Amy not did what she did. It made me more certain that tonight’s actions were justified. I walked to the park with a new air of confidence, I even acknowledged a couple as I walked along. On entering the park though I kept my head down and went straight to the chalet.

It was a quarter to three when I finally found myself in what would become Amy’s final resting place, chalet sixteen of the Belle Vista Holiday Park in Hemsby, Norfolk. I was aware that as of three o’clock Amy could turn up at any time so my initial preparation would have to be swift. First I drew the curtains on the single window to the front, I then drew both sets of curtains in the two bedrooms to the rear. Next, and this was probably the most important part, I took the screwdriver set from my bag and removed the screws from the handle of the door to the chalet and then completely removed the handle itself. This meant that when she knocked and I told her to come in as soon as she shut the door behind her there was no way out–at least not until the handle was reattached. The same handle that I had hidden in one of the kitchen cupboards.

With the important stuff sorted I could then relax and enjoy the rest of my time waiting. Amy was under the illusion that tonight’s ‘get to know you event’ was due to get underway at seven-thirty, so my reckoning was that she would turn up sometime between four and six. Of course I could be wrong and she may not turn up until later or she may just turn up in just five minutes time at dead on three. While I was waiting I thought I would start the preparation for tonight’s meal.

Under other circumstances this would have been an ideal getaway, me cooking for the woman I love and her turning up to the irresistible smell of a gourmet meal. Unfortunately she would be turning up to a meal but not the kind of meal she would want as I couldn’t finish it until she was here. I was missing that one vital ingredient that would make it complete-her heart. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be prepared, I placed the chopping board on the counter and retrieved my knife from my bag. I peeled the onion and garlic, finely chopped both and placed them in a bowl. I placed a knob of butter in the frying pan ready. I sliced the mushroom and placed these in a bowl and placed in the fridge along with the cream as I wouldn’t need these just yet. I placed the bottle of Madeira on the side. Now all I had to do was wait.

THIRTY THREE

Monday 13th September 1993

Pinky had made the trip for one reason and one reason only–to say a final goodbye to his beloved Amy Cooper. It had been more than two months since that fateful night when he took her heart. The night he finally fulfilled his fantasy. He could still taste her on his lips, the sweet saltiness–just like popcorn at the cinema. He remembered fondly of their final meal, for although she didn’t partake in the gourmet experience herself, without her contribution none of it would have been possible.

The journey had taken him nearly three hours with the traffic. He hadn’t been sure his old heap would be up to the job but apart from the temperature gauge rising on the M25 the trip had been fairly uneventful. The service at the chapel within the grounds of the cemetery was due to start at one o’clock. It wasn’t even ten when he pulled his car in through the wrought iron gates. He parked in the corner farthest away from the gate. His car bumper touched the laurel hedge and the shade engulfed his car.

The cemetery was immaculate, all neatly mowed, the pathways weed free. In the distance he could hear more grass being mown. He stepped out of his car and stretched his legs, he hadn’t realised how much they’d seized up while driving. He regretted not stopping to get a coffee before he arrived here, though he knew he had plenty of time. This morning was about revisiting old friends.

As he locked his car he looked across at the rows of headstones, the view occasionally broken by an elaborate crypt. He never understood how someone could be so pretentious that they felt they needed to be interred in such a place. Even worse he thought were the muppets who built themselves a mausoleum, and don’t even get him started on the Egyptians and the fucking pyramids.

He took a packet of Marlboro from his black suit trousers, and with a little book of matches from a place called Angels Lap dancing Club he proceeded to light one of the sticks. As he took his first hit he relished the burn in the back of his throat.. This was a fairly new habit for him, not even a month since he took up his new hobby. The sun was already warm on his back as he walked down the slope toward his first port of call. It only took a couple of minutes before he was stood in front of a jet black headstone with little sparkling flecks of silver inlaid. This always reminded Pinky of stars in the night sky and wondered if this was the illusion the stonemason had envisioned. The stone had a domed centre with two finials one either side and the inscription was simple:

REST IN PEACE

BENJAMIN CLEVES

1912 – 1986

BELOVED FATHER & HUSBAND

Pinky crouched down beside the stone, the grass around it had been so  recently cut he could smell it. There was a vase with some long dead flowers in it.

“Sorry Granddad, I know I haven’t been to see you in a really long time but I’m here now.” He smiled as he could imagine his granddad’s reply ‘that’s ok boy you have your own life to live, why the fuck would you want to visit a dead fucker like me anyway?’ A small tear escaped the corner of his eye and he let it roll down his nose and into his mouth before he composed himself once more.

Granddad Ben had been his greatest friend, he was his mum’s dad. Although his parents rarely saw him, even after the passing of his wife several years earlier, Benjamin tried to see his grandson whenever he could. Pinky had always known there was some kind of tension between his mum and his granddad but had never fully known the truth.

He had tried asking his parents on numerous occasions, each time he was told it was a private matter and not to ask again. Advice he ignored as he constantly asked it again and again. Once he confronted his granddad and asked him outright why his mum and dad didn’t like him? He’d gone on to explain that it wasn’t the fact they didn’t like him, it was just they didn’t understand him. He then proceeded to tell him a story.

The story of a young boy who had a dog and that for many years the boy loved the dog. He would play with him for hours and hours. The dog would sleep beside the boy at night next to his bed, sometimes on it. The dog loved the boy as much as he loved it. Then one day the boy came home from school and his friend wasn’t waiting for him, he called out for him but nothing. Eventually he started walking the streets around his home, and two roads away he found his best friend slumped at the side of the road.

He picked him up and carried him home. He sat in the front garden until his dad arrived back from work. The dog’s breathing was shallow and he was covered in blood, he had almost certainly been hit by a vehicle. The boy’s father took one look at the poor animal and took it from him and in to the back yard and dispatched the animal with a swift blow to the back of the head. Form that moment the boy realised that sometimes it was kinder to end the suffering of something you love than let it carry on in pain.

It wasn’t until he sat there at his granddads graveside that he understood what he was talking about. He knew his grandma died of cancer at a fairly young age and that it was around the same time his mum stopped talking to her dad. It suddenly all clicked in to place; his grandad had killed the love of his life to end her suffering. Just like he had done with Amy.

He didn’t care what people thought as he sat there laughing out loud, his granddad would have laughed with him if he’d been there.. But Pinky knew he was just a pile of bones beneath the earth. He had one more grave to visit before he went off and got himself that well-earned coffee.

Alice Hughes had been one of his few friends from school, she was quirky which made her a target for bullies. And although Pinky was in the same position as her he would often step in if she was being picked on, taking the brunt of it for himself. They ended up as friends more through circumstance than anything else. They had often joked that if they were both single at twenty-five they would get married and have freaky babies together.

Her tombstone was next to the chapel, enough time he thought for another cigarette. He found that smoking calmed him, not that he was one for getting stressed. He walked slowly to her grave, she’d only been fifteen when a drunk driver hit her as she walked home from school. He still struggled with the fact that someone could be drunk and driving at three-thirty in the afternoon. He remembered saying goodbye to her at the gates and that she should have a good weekend. If he had known it would be the last time he would see her there was so much more he needed to say to her.

This was the first visit to her grave since the funeral back in the winter of eighty-six. He’d been back to the cemetery but never had the courage to go and see her to tell her what he should have told her all those years ago. He could see the grave with its full length stone covering the whole of the plot like a blanket. Four flower pots adorned each corner of the white marble slab. Azure blue pebbles covered the entire centre bed–her favourite colour. He stood at the base of the burial plot and cried. “I’m so sorry.” That is all he said for nearly fifteen minutes. He wiped his eyes and stared at the four vases, freshly filled with white daisies–her favourite flower. At a guess he would say her parents must be visiting every few days if not every day. The graves close by all had leaves and bits of twigs but Alice’s was completely clear. They’ve been here this morning he surmised.

“Where do I start Alice, firstly I’m sorry for not being around. I seem to be doing a lot of apologising for my absence this morning. Would it be wrong of me to have a cigarette? I could really do with one right now but I don’t want to be disrespectful.” As he said it a blue tit came and landed on the headstone right in the middle and stared at him.. He took this as a sign and struck up the cigarette he’d been holding. “I should have told you long before that day that I liked you, no I didn’t just like you I liked you a lot. You could have called it love but I think I was too young to really understand exactly what that was. I knew it was something because I didn’t just think about getting into your knickers–that was all I thought about with some girls–no I actually liked hanging out and chatting with you. Don’t get me wrong I’d have jumped you in an instant if I thought the attraction had been mutual.” The blue tit cocked its head as if listening intently.

“What I’m trying to say Alice is sorry. Sorry that you went to your grave not knowing how much I cared for you. Sorry that I didn’t walk you home that day. Sorry that some prick decided to have a drink and get in his car. Sorry that we never had the chance to have our freaky babies. But mostly Alice I’m sorry I couldn’t have taken your place that day. One last thing, please take care of Amy Cooper, like you she was very special to me.”

He wiped away more tears as he remembered other good times they’d had together. He looked at his watch, eleven-fifteen, he had time to go and get that long awaited coffee. As he walked to his car he noticed a couple coming towards him, an elderly couple probably in their eighties. They were holding hands and looked happy despite the location. That was how he’d always imagined his life with Amy. Yet here he was and in less than three hours she would be forever residing under six feet of earth, stones and creepy crawlies. If only she hadn’t done what she’d done they could have had their happy ever after. He nodded as he passed the couple and they returned his gesture.

It was twelve thirty and Pinky sat in his car, a couple of other cars were now in the car park but their occupants were off visiting loved ones of their own. Then people started to arrive for Amy, he spotted a couple of her friends, then the disrespectful noise of a blown exhaust entered the car park. A Ford Escort with music blaring pulled into a space a half dozen from Pinky’s. He watched as Adam got out and lit up a cigarette while he scanned for familiar faces. Pinky was on the verge of getting out of his car and having a word when he reminded himself that this was Amy’s day and nothing was going to spoil it. He couldn’t help but notice Adam’s lack of respect with his ripped jeans albeit black ones, black t-shirt and black trainers. Did he really think it was suitable attire for a funeral.

By twelve forty-five the car park was packed with people in clusters chatting. Then en masse they appeared to move as one as if propelled by some mystical force. They followed the path that led to the chapel. Pinky locked his car and mingled with the last of the stragglers as they headed along the same path. He kept his distance and when they reached the chapel he chose a seat four rows from the back. He thought if he picked the back row it would look like he wasn’t supposed to be there. In his heart he knew he should be on the front row with the family, no one had loved Amy as much as he did. But he was adamant that this was Amy’s day and nothing was going to ruin it–not even him. At five minutes to one the chapel was packed and he watched as Mr & Mrs Cooper along with their daughter Hayley entered via the side door and took their places on the front row. Mrs Cooper wore a straight black skirt, white blouse and a black jacket. Mr Cooper wore traditional funeral attire for a man, but Hayley was the exception. She wore a white summer knee length dress with lace hem; a black band a few inches wide circled her waist. They had barely sat when music started playing; it was Sinead O’Conner’s ‘Nothing Compares to you’. Then the coffin was carried in by six strapping young men, the casket was resplendent in white with silver handles and fasteners. Pinky watched as she was carried past him, he realised then that he was the only one in the room that knew exactly what was hidden in the box. While everybody else would remember the Amy they knew, all he could see was the heartless body sprawled on the kitchen counter after his meal. The tears wanted to come but a smile broke free as he remembered the fun he had had.

Forty-five minutes later Amy was in the ground, they had all said their goodbyes when a hand rested on Pinky’s shoulder. He had just got to his car, he had hoped to get away before anyone engaged him in conversation.

“Thank you for coming Pinky.” He knew the voice in an instant–Mr Cooper–he’d thought they’d linger at the graveside. Sure enough he turned around and there stood Mr and Mrs Cooper with Hayley. One thought screamed through his head, ‘Hayley when did you grow up?’ He’d seen her in the chapel but that was from a distance. This close and it was clear that though she was still only thirteen she was blossoming into a fine young woman.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Was all he could think to say. Not once did he take his eyes from Hayley.

“You will come back to the house won’t you?” Mrs Cooper said.

“I’d love to but I don’t want to impose.” He’d had no intention of going to any kind of wake, let alone back to their home, the scene of Amy’s most heinous crime.

“Pinky you’re family. We wouldn’t hear of you not coming. I’m sure you know the way but you can just follow our car.” Mr Cooper insisted. “We can have a proper catch up then.”

Pinky had a story for what he’d been up to the last four years just in case anybody today had asked. He’d never dreamed he’d be telling it to Amy’s mum and dad. It had been four years since he’d had any contact with the family. To them he’d just vanished one day, he didn’t know what Amy had told them.

“OK I’ll see you there.”

“See you later.” Hayley said before pushing her arm through her mother’s. What stayed with Pinky was the look Hayley gave him. He was convinced she wasn’t the sweet and innocent little girl her parents believed her to be.

For a moment after he got in his car and watched the Coopers return to the funeral car it flashed through his mind to just drive. Drive back home, skip the wake and never set eyes on the Coopers again. But the look in Hayley’s eyes told him he had to follow them. For some inexplicable reason he wanted–no had to–see her again. He knew she was only thirteen but Amy was only fourteen when he met her.

The traffic was fairly light back to Moor Park and for once there was no hold up on the M25. Pinky hadn’t realised how fast funeral cars were capable of going, he’d only ever seen them follow a hearse at a snail’s pace. His old banger barely managed to keep up. Not that it mattered because like Mr Cooper pointed out he knew exactly where to go.

He pulled in through the familiar gates of ‘Cariad’ it seemed like only last week he was here. He pulled over to the far left to ensure that no one could block him in and he’d be able to leave when he was good and ready. He waited in the car until the Coopers were in the house and a couple of other guests had gone in–he didn’t want to be alone with them. He noted the distinct absence of any of Amy’s friends, it appeared to be only family that were invited.

As he mustered all his courage he still had to resist the urge to get back in his car and drive. He made it to the front door just as Hayley was coming out.

“I was just coming to get you.” She said.

“Sorry I just needed a minute.” He lied.

“Have you got any cigarettes on you?”

“Yeh, Why?”

“Let’s go for a walk, I’ve been dying for one all day, sorry excuse the pun.” She led him back out of the driveway and headed down one of the lanes. As they walked Pinky lit a cigarette and handed it to her. No sooner had he lit his than he felt her hand grab his and hold it. “I think she loved you.” Hayley blurted out.

“No she didn’t, I asked her many times.”

“After going with Adam I think she realised that you were the only one she wanted to be with. She’d be so happy that you came today.”

“I’m sorry I stayed away so long.” He thought to himself ‘here I go again apologising for my absence’. She squeezed his hand as if to say ‘it’s ok you’re here now’.

Pinky noticed that this obviously wasn’t her first cigarette as she tossed her butt a good two drags before he finished his. “When did you start smoking?”

“About a year ago, all my friends smoke.” She said as if to justify her actions.

“So if they all jumped off a cliff would you follow them?” He laughed, it was one of his mum’s favourite sayings whenever he copied someone else’s foolish actions.

“Of course not, but they told me sex was great and they didn’t lie about that.” She gave him a knowing look.

“Please tell me you’re joking?” She just smiled at him and left it at that. “We should probably go back, your mum and dad will be worried about you. You could be with anyone and considering the circumstances…”

“It’s OK, I told them I was coming to get you, they’ll just think we got chatting. There is no one they would trust me with more than you Pinky. You treated my sister like a princess, you never took advantage of her or treated her badly.”

A tear rolled down his cheek because with the exception of the final night he spent with her everything Hayley said was true. He did treat her with the utmost respect, he did treat her like a princess. If she hadn’t given it up so quickly or easily with Adam then he would still be treating her that way today.

Back at the house there was Mr. and Mrs. Cooper and six others. There was a modest spread of food on the dining table along with a variety of drinks including red and white wine. “Help yourself son.” Mr. Cooper said as Pinky entered the room.

THIRTY FOUR

Friday 17th September 1993

He was going to miss the station and his colleagues but it was time to move on. It was barely six in the morning when he swung his car in next to Siobhan’s, he was glad that she was working his last shift.

“So, are you ready for your last day?” Siobhan asked as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Not really, it has sort of crept up on me a bit.” He laughed. Since DI Sian Price had pointed out to him how attractive Siobhan was he kept fantasising about her. He was having one of those moments now as he watched her stand there with her back to him while she tried to retrieve something from her bag situated on her front seat. She could certainly make the staid, boring police issue uniform look sexy.

“Have you had any luck with a job yet?” She still had her back to him So was unaware that his eyes hadn’t shifted from her rear.

“No, but I’ve got digs sorted.”

“But no job, how are you gonna survive?” She’d retrieved what she needed from her bag and was now facing him. “Were you staring at my arse you perv.” Her words were harsh but playful.

“I might have been, it is rather nice to look at.”

“It’s a shame you’re quitting on me when things are just beginning to get interesting.” She walked away leaving him to stare at her once more. “I know you’re staring.”

He ran to catch her up as they walked into the station, just like any other day only this was to be his last day as a police constable. He’d always envisaged working his way up the ranks like DI Sian Price had. But now it was over and it was time to move back closer to his roots. Not closer to his parents although by default that would inevitably happen, but closer to what had once meant the world to him. He had applied for many positions, mostly to do with security firms or prisons. He liked the idea of staying within the justice system, but no longer felt comfortable as a police officer.

They were buzzed through by the desk sergeant and made their way to the staff room where they both got a large coffee from the vending machine and took seats opposite each other at one of the many vacant tables. Philip nodded to a couple of colleagues and they returned the gesture, then he spotted DI Sian Price standing in the doorway. She motioned for him to come to her and as she did she turned and headed to her office certain in the knowledge that he would follow. Sure enough he appeared at her office door thirty seconds later.

“Close the door Philip and take a seat.” She said.

“Have I done something wrong?” He said before taking a seat opposite her.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just heard that today is your last day. I hope the Amy Cooper case hasn’t had any bearing on your decision?” What she really wanted to know was if their illicit tryst had any undue influence. She didn’t feel she could ask outright but the last thing she needed was a complaint made against her. “If you’re looking to move stations I could always give you a recommendation, just say the word.”

“If you are wondering if this has anything to do with our trip down to Watford it hasn’t. It is a decision I’ve been struggling with for a while, the Cooper case helped me decide. I’ve realised I want something more, actually not more, I don’t want a job with the intensity of what we deal with on a daily basis. I know I’m probably not making much sense but after seeing what you had to do when you went to see them, what you must have gone through sat in that room while you delivered the worst possible news to them. I couldn’t do it.” He looked at his hands in his lap, he couldn’t look her in the eye and see the derision in them.

“You’re stronger than you think Philip Thorne. If you ever need a recommendation you can give them my number.” She said handing over one of her business cards. “And good luck in whatever you decide to do.” She stood up and offered her hand, he took her lead and they shook before he left to go and start his shift.

He really wasn’t in the mood for work but what was one more day. He was on foot patrol as he’d already handed the squad car over, they didn’t like exiting employees risking going into overtime. Apparently it was traditional to work your last day as a bobby on the beat.

As last days went it was quite pleasurable. He enjoyed walking the beat and chatting to people, his feet ached but in a good way. He hadn’t laughed so much or so hard in a long time. It was three o’clock when he made his way to the beach front at Hemsby, he’d been slowly making his way in the general direction all day. Now he found himself walking the familiar beach, the one he’d walked many times before. It held both good and bad memories for him and if challenged he wouldn’t be able to explain why he’d walked nearly four and a half miles from his scheduled beat just to be there.

He sat in a dip in the dunes and watched the sea slowly approach, his shoes and socks beside him as he dug his toes into the loose sand. A couple of seals frolicked in the surf as his mind wandered. He knew it would be strange going back to his roots, he hadn’t seen or spoken to his parents in almost four years. When he moved away they made no attempt to find him, or at least he assumed they didn’t. His assumption was based on the fact that they hadn’t found him and he wasn’t hiding. He found a room on the new estate being built around the corner from the council estate he grew up on. As close in proximity as he was going to be to his parents he had no intention of seeing them.

The seals had stopped their antics and were headed back up the coast as he thought about his reasons for giving up his job and moving back to the town he grew up in. Though part of his reasoning was the stress of the job the real reason was a girl. She didn’t know it yet but he was going to marry her, whatever it took. She was beautiful, sassy, sexy as hell and she was going to be his. He knew it was an extreme move but every bone in his body was telling him it was his destiny. When he saw her he knew she was the one, and the brief time he spent with her he felt that his feelings would be reciprocated if he pushed things. His lease on his current apartment was due to expire in two days and he’d already told the landlord that he didn’t want to renew. The guy wasn’t happy with the short notice but had accepted Philip’s reason for doing it.

In thirty minutes his shift was due to finish and he still had four and a half miles to walk back to the station. He radioed PC Siobhan Redmond to see if she would be able to swing by and pick him up, he really didn’t fancy the long walk. As it turned out she was in Hemsby just finishing up on a call. He made his way back along the beach taking one last look at the sea as he made his way to the police car waiting at the top of the ramp.

“Have you really walked all this way?” She asked.

“Yeh, it was nice, chatting to people, it was the reason I joined the force believe it or not. I loved the idea of the old fashioned beat bobby. I knew it wouldn’t be like it used to be but I was hoping to become a part of the community I served.”

“So what happened?”

“Amy Cooper” His clipped reply took her aback slightly. “That was where it happened.” He looked out to his left at the Belle Vista chalet park and all the memories suddenly came flooding back. “Stop, could we just go back, I want to see the chalet one last time before I leave. I know you won’t understand, but it is something I just need to do. It was the reason I walked here today, but I didn’t manage to summon the courage to come down this far. I tried.” He said as she applied the brakes and turned the squad car around at the next turning. She drove the car into the park as Philip told her which  turns to make before they ended up at a small car park, the same one Philip had parked his in that fateful morning.

“Do you want me to stay in the car or come with you?”

“Come with me if you don’t mind.” He said as he got out of the car. She took his hand as they walked past the bins to where the chalet was. As the sun beat down on them the screams from kids on holidays with their parents created a wholly different environment to the one Philip was called to on the morning of July fourth. “That was the one.” He indicated pointing his finger at chalet number sixteen. It was vacant, he’d heard that it had only recently been released back to the park and obviously it would need a complete refit if it was to be let again. He wondered if anybody would actually want to stay in it if it became common knowledge about what happened in there. The park had already suffered as a result of the news coverage with many chalets remaining empty over the summer. When the story had broken it had made headlines around the country, some International news syndicates had even run with it. He squeezed her hand as he spoke. “You can’t imagine what it was like seeing her there, she was beautiful and yet ugly if that makes any sense. It was the way she just lay there, motionless. I haven’t told anyone this but when I found her all I wanted to do was hold her in my arms and tell her everything would be alright. That whatever had been done to her could be undone. I knew it couldn’t because of the gaping hole in her chest.”

“Why are you torturing yourself over this, it wasn’t your fault. It was some sick bastard.” She told him as he released his grip and walked up to the door. The windows were still boarded up, and a security door had been fitted to stop the ghouls from breaking in and stealing souvenirs. The local tales had started shortly after the event with the most common being ritual slaughter-not that any details had been released but people will speculate and the manager had caught a glimpse of the scene before it had been locked down. Philip hadn’t discussed the scene with anybody except DI Sian Price.

“Do you know if they are any closer to finding who did it.?” He asked. He hadn’t heard anything, not even speculation. But then he knew how CID worked, they loved to keep their cards close to their chest.

“All I heard was that they had no concrete leads, but that they were questioning a previous boyfriend whose name they’d been given by the Cooper family. That was from Mark, my boyfriend, do you know him DS Shaw?”

“I think I’ve seen him about but I haven’t spoken to him. I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, let alone one in CID. How long have you been dating?”

“Only a couple of weeks, I’m not sure he’s the one though, all that matters to him is his career, not that there is anything wrong with that but it is all he ever talks about. And I’m sure he has some sort of obsession for DI Sian Price. He mentions her all the time, ‘Sian this, Sian that’” She said the last part in a winey sarcastic tone and they both started laughing. “At one time I thought you might ask me out.”

This threw him and at first he didn’t know what to say. “This is the age of feminism, you could always have asked me out.” It was all he could think of, he had thought about it but didn’t want the complication at the time. If he was staying things would be different, but he wasn’t and since he now knew who is rightful soulmate was supposed to be, why waste time on anyone else.

“You’re leaving now anyway so it wouldn’t have been much of a relationship anyway.” He heard the regret in her voice and felt sorry for her boyfriend, she should tell him if she felt what they had was going nowhere. He liked honesty in a relationship, if there was an issue it was better to be upfront about it and challenge it head on.

THIRTY FIVE

Friday 1st December 2017

She didn’t know where to start, nearly thirty years of paperwork was hoarded in boxes in this room. This had been her personal incident room away from work. She had worked on frustrating cases into the early hours of many a morning, some still remained unsolved, a few she knew would never be solved. She became distracted as she lifted a box, each of the black and grey archive boxes had an index card slid into a pocket at the front. This particular box bought back bittersweet memories. One of the cases was listed as Cooper,Amy 4/7/1993, a rather brutal murder that was solved in a little under eight months. But something about the case at the time rang alarm bells for Sian, even when they discovered the sick fuck that had cut her heart out and eaten it she still had strong feelings that something was wrong.

The rest of the house was packed up and ready for the removal van tomorrow morning. It was just this room left, and the single glass and bottle of wine she’d left unpacked. She placed the single archive box to one side and proceeded to move the rest downstairs with the rest of her possessions. In less than an hour she was sat on the floor of her former makeshift incident room with an open bottle of Merlot, a glass and a box of files from twenty five years ago.  She wiped the thin layer of dust from the lid and removed it, she took out the bundle of files labelled Cooper, Amy and removed the rubber band. Sometimes cases used to get to her so much that she would take copies of files to allow her to work on it from home, this was one such case. She poured a glass of the wine and took a sip, she opened the manilla file and seeing the photo immediately realised that she should have kept a second bottle of wine out. This was going to be a long night.

The series of pictures were of the crime scene, she had forgotten just how bad it had been. She took a larger mouthful of wine and started reading over her notes from the morning her body was discovered. She sat with her back against the walk, wearing her faithful grey sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. For a woman in her early fifties she had kept herself in pretty good shape, mostly this was down to her complete disregard for a healthy lifestyle. Couple that with a life of excesses it was a miracle she was alive let alone in such good health. Her last visit to her GP had revealed that apart from an elevated cholesterol level she was as healthy as a thirty year old.

She found her initial report from the morning of the incident at Belle Vista Chalet Park, she read it a half dozen times. She then read her follow up report after she had spoken to PC Thorne and the receptionist at the park. One thing struck her as odd at the time and still did, the girl who picked up the key on the day wasn’t the victim and it had never been determined who she was. Sian had always felt uncomfortable that the killer was convicted of Amy Cooper’s murder but that there were still several loose ends. She understood the physical evidence couldn’t be disputed, his hair was found at the scene along with his semen inside the victim. He had no alibi for the night she was murdered-he was on the park in a different chalet. The parks records showed him as a guest. As she sat there in the empty room with just her wine and files for company she took herself back to that day. With her eyes closed she could once again smell the scene, stale cooking blended with a strong metallic scent. It was all coming back to her, she hadn’t realised at the time just how warm the room had been, she could put it down to the amount of people in there but thinking back she should have checked the thermostat for the heating. She knew there was a distinct possibility that the heating had been switched on, on what had been one of the hottest days of the year why would the killer have put it on?

She poured the last of the wine, she knew she would go downstairs and unpack a second bottle. The wine was beginning to make her feel sentimental, this had been happening more and more recently. She thought back to the young PC she had met for the first time that morning, the same one she ended up fucking a few weeks later. No she didn’t fuck him, it was more a case of him fucking her, she remembered back to how rough he’d been with her. The way he had taken her his way, the way he had bitten her in his frenzy.

She put her glass down as her hand shook, she pushed papers this way and that until she found the one she wanted. In her hand was the pathologists report. She scanned the document until she came to the section she wanted, Final Pathological Diagnosis. With her finger she went down the list, it was at number fifty seven she came to the one she wanted after surgical absence of appendix, bite mark to lower abdomen lower right quadrant. “Did we get the wrong guy?” She questioned to herself out loud, she knew the case inside and out and all the evidence pointed to the man they put away for the crime. Although she had her doubts about aspects of the case she had to admit there was no other suspect that came close to fitting the evidence the way the killer had. Until now.

She got up from the floor which turned out to be a mistake, her legs buckled as she tried to stand, then the pins and needles hit. She sat back down and frantically rubbed her thighs to quell the pain. She looked down at her watch and saw that she’d been sat in the same position for the past two hours. She wanted the wine badly now, so after a few minutes attempted to get up again. The pain was bearable as she hobbled down the stairs feeling every one of her fifty three years, she went straight to the box she wanted and retrieved another bottle of Merlot before she headed back to her incident room.

It was three in the morning when her body gave up on her. She slept until a knock on the door woke her from her slumber. “Shit” she shouted, her watch told her it was seven and to make matters even worse it was moving day. She ran down the stairs in last night’s clothes, hair stuck to her head and mascara smeared eyes. She opened the door to two of the hottest guys she’d ever seen stood there, even in her exhausted state she wouldn’t turn either of them down. She was beginning to regret working until the early hours of the morning.

“Morning, everything downstairs is ready to go, there’s nothing to worry about upstairs I’ll take that stuff. Is it okay if I just leave you to get on with it?” She asked.

“Sure we’ll let you know when we’re done luv.” They walked past her and proceeded to start carrying the larger items of furniture out. She went back up to where the files were all scattered over the floor, as she stared once more at them she was certain she was right. She gathered up all the files, as soon as her move was complete she would take them to the station and speak to her DCI to see about getting the case reopened.

Today though was moving day, she’d lived in this flat for the best part of thirty years. She’d decided recently that she wanted something a bit quieter. Over recent years tourism had picked up in Yarmouth and the hustle and bustle that she once thrived on was beginning to get to her and she longed for a slower pace. What she had found for her next home was a wooden cabin overlooking the sea at Hemsby. It wasn’t the most luxurious of places but it offered her the life she craved, morning coffee on the verandah looking out at the sea. Evenings with a glass of wine in front of the open fire. And best of all peace and quiet. Was she really getting old? Although at times she felt as young and youthful as when she was in her twenties, the last couple of years she had realised that her body couldn’t lie anymore. She was still a looker and had many a dalliance with men half her age, but she had never found her soulmate. She was even considering getting a cat when she was settled in her new home.

After packing up what was left in the room, she discovered that the only clothes she had were the ones she was standing in, everything else was ready to be loaded if it hadn’t already been put on the van. She left the box where it was and headed downstairs to the bathroom, she needed a shower as she’d been in the same clothes now for over twenty four hours. She watched as the two men carried on with the removal task and couldn’t help notice how their jeans hugged their tight buttocks. In the bathroom she shut the door but didn’t lock it, she was forever the optimist. She ran the water as cold as she could stand, anything to try to wake up. With no soap and just a hand towel she knew it was going to be interesting, she didn’t fancy wearing underwear that she’d already worn for more than a day so would have to do what she had done on many occasions-go commando. As she stepped out of the shower she could hear the men discussing which item to take next, in just her birthday suit her body hadn’t succumbed to gravity like some of her friends. She didn’t know if it was the cold or the thought of the two hot removal guys but her nipples were like bullets and ached, she couldn’t resist rubbing her hand between her legs and then thought better of it, there were more pressing matters than her overactive libido.

When she emerged from the bathroom her hair was still wet, and the men were carrying the last of her possessions from what would soon no longer be her flat.

“We’re done Miss Price, is there anything else?” The taller blonde removal guy said, she noticed how he couldn’t take his eyes from her breasts and the obvious absence of a bra.

“No thanks everything appears to be done, I’ve got a couple of boxes to put in my car and I’ll meet you at my new place.”

“No problem, we’ll stop and get something to eat to give you time to get there.” His eyes still hadn’t moved from her chest. She watched them walk out and went upstairs to get the first of the two boxes, her car was parked twenty or so yards up the road to allow the removal van to park outside. In ten minutes she was locking the door for the last time, she would miss the place but knew it was time to move on. To be honest her mind kept going back to the Amy Cooper case, her moving home had become an inconvenience. She had been so looking forward to this day, but all thought were blighted by the events back in July of nineteen ninety three. Could they really have got things so badly wrong, and could her theory possibly be right, if it was then a whole mess of trouble was going to open up as a result.

THIRTY SIX

Friday 12th November 1993

It was nearly two months since Philip Thorne had quit his job and moved to Watford, he was sat in his bedsit on Kensington Avenue. The twelve foot by ten foot room had been his home for the last eight weeks, a wash hand basin sat in the furthest left hand corner. The carpet was a grey floral once upon a time, it was now muted shades of grey consisting of indeterminate shapes, much of which had yellowing stains or threadbare patches. The sash window barely opened six inches, the radiator below was rust ridden and he had doubts it would work. The only other items in the room were a battered wardrobe, single metal framed bed and a three drawer chest of which only two opened. But he was happy, happier than he had been in a very long time. He’d discovered that running away, although right for him at the time, was not always the answer and he was glad to be back.

In the two months since he had been back he had not contacted his parents, nor any of his childhood friends. He had however kept a close eye on the reason for his return, a girl. It always came down the the same thing with Philip-love. He knew from the first time he laid eyes on her as a young woman that she was the one for him. She still had to blossom before he could have her but he was prepared to wait.

Today was the day when he was going to make his first move on her. It had been a few months since he had last seen her, he had her address and he was going to see her. He’d watched her house for the last two weeks, staking it out from seven in the morning until six in the evening, it had been boring but he had to do it if he wanted to get her alone. And it was important that their first proper meeting should be just the two of them. At nine o’clock on a Wednesday both Mr and Mrs Cooper went to see their daughter Amy, she resided in a burial plot at the cemetery in North Watford. The headstone still hadn’t been placed – he knew this because last week he had followed them, even into the cemetery. He’d watched as they sat beside her for two hours. Sat at a safe distance he’d waited for them to leave before he ventured over to the grave. He still remembered the morning he’d found her in the chalet at Hemsby.

He watched as the Coopers drove their Range Rover from the driveway of ‘Cariad’. It was five minutes until he drove his own car in through the gates and pulled up next to the door. His adrenaline was like a torrent through his veins as he stood there, hand poised on the knocker. Before he had a chance to withdraw the door opened.

“Hel…” She started before he interrupted.

“Don’t say a word, I want things to be different with you, so let me start. Hello I’m Philip Thorne, it is so nice to meet you.” He held out his hand to her.

“Hello Philip Thorne, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance sir.” She curtseyed as she said it and laughed. He waited with his hand outstretched until she took it in hers. “Let’s go inside, I am so glad you’ve come back here.”

She led him through the house to the kitchen where she made him a coffee, she remembered how much he loved his coffee. Philip watched her as she stood with her back to him, her young body in a pair of jeans, and a black t-shirt. Her long brown hair reached three quarters of the way down her back, a slight kink giving it a shimmer as it moved with every word she spoke.

He knew he needed to get something off his chest before he bottled it, so he just started talking while her back was to him. “I came back for one reason and one reason only, you. I want things to be different, you’ve lost so much and I want to be here for you. I know I’m a lot older than you but…” Before he could finish she turned to face him.

“I don’t care about the age gap, the only thing I am certain of is that I want to be with you.”

“Your parents will have other ideas, they won’t want you dating me. I’m twenty two, and your thirteen. If this is what you want then we will have to be very careful.” He said as she walked over to him.

“My parents barely notice me since Amy died, they are consumed by guilt. Do you know where they are right now? No? They’re with her. They are always with her.” She put her arms around him and he held her tightly as she sobbed. Her body rubbed against his with each convulsion, He tried to think of anything but her to quell what was happening to his body.

“I am sure they love you Hayley, but it must be hard for them. And remember you have me now. I am always here for you. We just have to keep this as our secret for the time being.”

“Oooh I like secrets, will we have secret liaisons, clandestine trysts. Hot steamy sex in the back of your car?” She laughed, she could feel him growing against her.

“Hayley you’re thirteen, I will wait for you. I want to be with you forever and we have our whole lives together.” He said as he freed herself from her and looked into her deep hazel eyes for a reaction. What he saw there shattered his soul, he was looking into her sister Amy’s from that morning. All the emotions of that day came flooding back in a wave of pain and torment. He pulled her to him once more, unable to look in those eyes a second longer and whispered in her ear. “I love you Hayley Cooper more than you could ever imagine.”

“I love you too Philip Thorne.” She tucked her head into his neck as his large arms engulfed her body.

After their little heart to heart they sat next to each other on stools at the breakfast bar and drank their coffee. They sat in silence for a while, an unspoken knowledge between them, their fingers entwined below the counter.

Philip knew that he only had a limited time with Hayley this time as her parents would be back within a couple of hours.

THIRTY SEVEN

Friday 1st December 2017

It had been nearly a week again and Pinky had got hardly anything down on paper. The new inmate had been shipped in on Tuesday and for the last four days all they had heard was that she hadn’t done anything and couldn’t understand why she was there. But today he was determined, writing was going to get done.

Chapter 12

Wait. That was all I had to do was wait. It was four o’clock and I’d been waiting for nearly an hour. I knew there was a possibility that she wouldn’t turn up, but I had hope. I walked into the bedroom to have a look out the window to see if I could see her coming. I’ll admit I was nervous, nervous and excited. It had been too long since I’d seen her and in some weird way I longed to be with her like before. But my heart told me I could never love her the way I did.

I looked up and down the road and still there was no sign of her. A man with a dog looked over at the window and I had to duck behind the floral curtain. His dog barked but he tugged at his lead and carried on walking. I could have gone in to the sitting room and watched television while I waited but didn’t want to be caught off guard, instead I sat in the chair situated behind the door so that once she was in I could push the door shut and there would be no escape for either of us. The door was closed but the handle on the outside would allow her to open it when I told her to enter – see I had tried to think of everything.

I want to be clear about something, my reason for doing this wasn’t to hurt her. If you have read my whole book up until this point you will have realised just how much I loved Amy Cooper, I didn’t want to hurt her. But I also wanted – no that wasn’t the right word – I needed the one thing that only she could give me. The one thing I had invested all my time and devotion to, winning Amy’s heart. That’s why I was here now, I had won it fair and square until she had moved the goalposts, until she had let that loser prick Adam fuck her.

What had he done to win her heart?

Had he taken her for day’s out? No.

Had he treated her like a princess? No.

Had he listened to her when she was upset over the smallest thing? No.

Had he cleaned her knee and put a plaster on it after she tripped and fell? No.

Had he taken advantage of a vulnerable fifteen year old and fucked her? Yes.

So by my math her heart belonged to me and not that piece of shit Adam. I’d always vowed that I wouldn’t hurt her and that still stood. I knew that to have her heart she couldn’t very well live but that didn’t mean I had to be a sadist. No I would make her death painless, but first I wanted to have what was mine.

It was nearly five thirty and still there was no sign of her. I went to the fridge where I had placed a bottle of champagne. I popped the cork and poured out two glasses (I still had hope) and in one of them I placed a tablet. On its own it wouldn’t do her too much harm, she would be aware of what was happening but unable to move or speak. On the street it was known as the date rape drug, or rohypnol.

I barely had chance to return to my chair when there was a knock at the door, “Come in.” I said, my heart nearly leapt from my chest as the words reverberated in my head. This was it, this was what all the build up had been for. I hoped I didn’t falter when I saw her, that was my biggest fear.

The door began to open and a lone foot with a white Nike trainer was the first part of her over the threshold. She strode in confidently, her body in a pair of blue Levi 501’s and a white blouse with silver pattern on the back.

“Hello!” She called out.

I rose from my chair and discreetly closed the door behind her as she walked toward the kitchen area. We were now shut in until the handle I’d hidden could be put back on. “Hello Amy.” She spun round startled, then her face lit up and I remembered why I loved her. Those eyes under other circumstances would have been working their magic, But I was too committed to be swayed by them though I couldn’t let her see that just yet.

“Pinky?” I could see puzzlement in those eyes.

“How are you? When I saw your name on the list I knew I had to be the one to welcome you when you arrived.” I went to her and hugged her, I pulled her close so I could feel her heart beat and she responded to my touch. It was like it used to be between us.

“You work for the university?” We were still hugging as she asked. Then she held me at arms length and looked me up and down. “You look good Pinky, life is obviously agreeing with you.”

“Me! Look at you all grown up, you must be eighteen now, right?” I had to admit she looked good and a huge part of me was sad when I considered the outcome of tonight. And her smell, the scent of Giorgio bought back many memories from happier times. I inhaled until my senses could take no more. Sensory overload wouldn’t help me with what had to be done. I would have loved to have chatted with her long into the night but knew it could never happen. In a few hours she was under the illusion that she would be attending an event for students enrolled on the midwifery course at the University of East Anglia. As there was no such event planned it would be difficult to keep her here much longer without her suspicions being raised. The time had come. “Would you like a glass of Champagne? I took the liberty of pouring two glasses, I hope that was okay?” I tried to sound both upbeat and vulnerable in the hope she wouldn’t refuse, ‘plan b’ was an injection of the drug I’d secreted in one of the kitchen cabinets – I was hoping there would be no need for it.

“Sure, why not. It’s a couple of hours until I have to be over in the clubhouse for the ‘get to know you thing’ it will be nice to catch up.”

I walked over to the breakfast bar where I’d left the two glasses not five minutes ago. The bubbles were still fizzing as I handed one to Amy which she gratefully accepted. I held up my glass “Cheers to old friends” I proposed as she raised her glass to clink with mine. “Let’s sit for a while, we have a bit of time don’t we?” I asked as I made my way to the couch. I took a sip of the cold liquid and she followed suit. It would take about five minutes for the drug to work once she’d ingested enough of it, luckily she appeared to be thirsty and was asking for a refill, I was barely through half of mine. I grabbed the bottle and placed it on the coffee table in front of us after dutifully refilling her glass.

“So what have you been up to since I last saw you?” I asked her, the glaze in her eyes was already starting and I could tell she was already trying to fight the effects of the drug.

“Studying mainly, I’ve been in sixth form for the last two years for my ‘A’ levels. I needed three to get on my course.” She put her glass on the table, I could tell it was from a sense of not trusting her own body to continue holding it without dropping it. She leant back into the sofa “I think the Champagne has gone straight to my head.”  Those were the last words she ever uttered.

After that it was all in her eyes, the same eyes I had drowned in for all those years now had a scared look. I could see them trying to take in her surroundings, she didn’t know what was happening to her. I’d read up on the drug and knew that just about now her mind could take in everything that was going on but her body would not respond to anything her brain told it to do. I couldn’t imagine the fear and frustration that must have been going through her head. It must be torture not being able to communicate what you wanted to do or say. This was the feeling my body had gone through more than three years ago, that night  I opened the door and watched my precious Amy getting fucked like a cheap whore. Now at least she would be able to comprehend some small part of what I went through that night.

A commotion in the cell opposite dragged him out of his intense memory of that night. He could have killed  for being disturbed, he was just beginning to get into his story of Amy’s last night, he placed his hand in his lap and discovered he was rock solid and he hadn’t even got to the best part of the story, he was certain that he wouldn’t be able to contain himself once he got to some of the more intense moments of that night. He listened and there appeared to be an argument in process between the new inmate and Chef, it was unusual for Chef to get worked up. He listened to what was being said, but that wasn’t what struck him first – it was the smell.

A pool of urine was outside her cell, the smell was reminiscent of the subway under Exchange Road in Watford that he remembered from his youth. The floor between the cells was littered with what he could only imagine were her faeces. This was all he needed, it meant yet more delay to his book. He was still set on his Christmas deadline even if it killed him – or maybe that should be if he had to kill someone to be able to finish.

It was nearly an hour until the cleanup crew arrived, the guards were not allowed to do it due to the strict health and safety rules and the union also forbade them from doing such work. By the time they’d finished xxx was naked in her cell and refusing to dress herself until Chef admitted the possibility that she was telling the truth and was in fact innocent. They all knew that she wasn’t, you didn’t end up at a place like xxx if there was even the remotest possibility you were anything but guilty.

“Put some fucking clothes on, no one wants to see what you’ve got.” Pinky shouted at her.

“Why the fuck should I ‘Pinky-Dinky with his little winky?’” She sang the last bit,  she did it because she knew it annoyed the fuck out of him. One of the other inmates had told her the story of how he got his nickname. When or if he found out who told her he would make them regret it.

He looked across as she brazenly stood at the front of her cell without a stitch on. “Where do you want me to start? Those gnarly feet with the fungal infected nails, or the Sasquatch legs leading to that old dried shrivelled cunt hiding behind that matted clump of foul smelling undergrowth. Or what about those saggy bags hanging from where you’re breasts should be. And don’t get me started on the rotten stench from your mouth with those yellow stumps you call teeth.” His blood was boiling, he could feel his heart rate rising and knew that if he didn’t stop he was likely to give himself a coronary. Whatever part she took offence to it appeared to work, she retreated back into her cell and climbed under her covers. Then the sobs began and in some remote part of his soul he felt bad for what he’d said to her, but for the most part he was happy the bitch was crying.

He looked down at his desk knowing that there was little to no chance of any more meaningful words getting written. Instead he doodled on the sheet of paper with the large love heart with the arrow through it and the words Amy Cooper Forever written above and below in black ink. He added some more hearts to the page and some random symbols. He kept the sheet beside him whenever he wrote, it was his inspiration. It may be covered in coffee stains and even a splatter of blood from a paper cut but he was still adamant it was what would eventually be the front cover of his book.

It was mid December now so he knew he had very little time to finish his book. He thought he maybe had two chapters to write. He knew nothing about proofreading, or editing or even the little things like spell checking and grammar. He believed that when he wrote the last word his next step was to send it to a publisher. He’d decided that Harper Collins were going to be the lucky publishing house that would get the privilege of creating his words into a book. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of rejection, why would any sane person pass up the chance to cash in on his masterpiece. He knew people would want to read what he had written. He also knew that once his masterpiece was released his world would change beyond recognition. There would be interviews and signings, he would be famous. For what he had accomplished in his life he should already have been famous. It had always annoyed him that certain crimes were splattered over the papers and nowadays the web. Crimes involving children or vulnerable groups always attracted the most media attention, but a single murder barely made it in the first half dozen pages. No, today the youth were more interested in who was wearing what or who was doing who. It didn’t even seem to matter that most of the people they cared about weren’t even proper celebrities, they were realty stars who’d had five minutes of fame. Pinky knew that once his book was out there he would be viewed in a completely different light. He would be revered up there with the greats, the Jeffrey Dahmers and the Ted Bundys of the world. He would have the credit and notoriety for one of the sickest crimes of the nineties.

THIRTY EIGHT

Friday 1st December 2017

Sian sat there surrounded by boxes, she really didn’t have the will or the energy to unpack any more. The bungalow was her dream, as much as she’d loved living in Yarmouth where everything was within easy reach this place was home. As soon as she walked over the threshold that first time she viewed it she knew she had to have it. The building was constructed of timber, it had a wraparound veranda just like the houses in America she’d seen pictures of. Two decent sized bedrooms meant she could still have a workspace. The main area of the bungalow was open plan and a large airy space. But what had really made her want it was the view – her front veranda was wide enough for garden furniture from where she could look out on the North Sea.

On the way to her new home this morning she’d picked up a couple more bottles of Merlot, one of which sat beside her on the floor, the other was already empty on the kitchen worktop. She was still thinking of the two fit blokes that moved her, it turned out the really fit one was gay and the other was married. It was getting close to eleven o’clock when she picked up her glass and the second bottle and took it to her bedroom. She wasn’t tired but at least she could be comfortable, her mattress was in there on the floor and she had unpacked her quilt and a couple of pillows.

One box sat next to the bed, the very same archive box she had been obsessed with last night. The same file still haunted her tonight, she’d intended on dropping by the station after moving in and running her theory past her DCI, but had begun to have doubts. Most of her theory was based on conjecture and her own opinions. What she didn’t have was any hard evidence, his semen and fibres had been found in the chalet, could they be explained away? What she needed was to prove some kind of motive, even if she could link him to Amy Cooper in some way. Before she took this to her superiors she would try to figure out if she could connect Philip Thorne to Amy Cooper.

She looked around the room, one of the things she would change about her knew home was the décor, the floral wallpaper really didn’t fit with her vision of log cabin living. She removed her sweatpants and realised that she’d forgotten she’d gone commando, not that it mattered she was alone and she just needed to get out of these clothes. She lifted the t-shirt over her head and stood naked, she grabbed her Norwich City shirt from the mattress and pulled it on, the smell of fabric conditioner pleasant to her nose after the two day old clothes she’d been wearing.

With the soft mattress beneath her she took a long swig of her wine before taking the lid off the archive box once more. She wanted to go over what she thought she’d worked out just to get it straight in her head. Maybe she was wrong, she was tired and exhausted last night, maybe she’d seen things that weren’t really there. Did she see things that suited what she wanted to believe or was she justified in her summation? She had a week before she was back at work, she would use the time to make her case. She picked up her glass of wine having decided she wasn’t ready to confront the box, she was restless. Sleep was not going to come anytime soon either so she thought she would make the most of her new homes location. She looked at the bottle of red and thought ‘fuck it I’m on holiday’ and grabbed it with her free hand.

Out on her veranda she looked out at the sea, the cool air whipped around her legs but she didn’t mind, it was exhilarating. She realised that she hadn’t felt this good in a long time. As she made her way down the steps the wood beneath her feet was still warm from the unseasonable afternoon sun. Her feet hit the sand and the grains engulfed them without thought, it was maybe twenty metres to the water’s edge, the sound of the gently breaking waves made its way to her.

The glass and bottle were still gripped in their respective hands but she decided to leave the glass on the steps (after downing the last of the liquid) and just carry on with the bottle. The cold water was calling to her, ever since she was a little girl the beach had held a special place in her heart. The sand in her knickers, the touch of her father’s hand holding hers and the salt air all conjured up happy memories from her childhood. As the water’s edge got closer the air chilled, she became aware of how little she was wearing. Her nipples had hardened to the point of bursting, the spray from the ocean stabbed at her legs causing goosebumps the size of peas. But she loved it, the cold, the pain and eroticism of the moment. With the bottle pressed to her lips she drank heavily from its contents. A wave broke over her ankle, cold bit at her flesh, she was alive for the first time in a long time. She stared out at the ocean and cried, for as long as she could remember her life had been a system of going through the motions. Work, sleep, sex with random strangers picked up in bars, she was fifty-three and she had to start living life on her terms. With her arms wrapped around her bent knees, her bum firmly planted in the sand and the empty wine bottle planted neck deep next to her she started going over in her mind why she thought the young rookie PC Philip Thorne was the man that got away with murder.

It must have been half an hour before she realised the water had covered twelve inches of her lower half, her feet and ankles were numb. She stood up and as she did her legs barely kept her upright. She wobbled for a few seconds and she didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the numbing effects of the salt water that was doing it. She walked back up the beach as the wine bottle was dragged out to sea, her soaked shirt was tugged over her head as she entered the house. She walked across the open space naked with her body shaking from the cold. The convulsions were making it hard for her to breath as she turned on the shower and waited for it to heat up, she let it get as hot as she could bare before stepping in. The water hit every inch as her head tilted upwards and welcomed the pain from the heat. Eventually she turned the water off and wrapped herself in a towel, she was done for the day. Discarding the towel she climbed beneath the quilt, as her head hit the pillow she was out like a light. Tomorrow would be another day.

THIRTY NINE

Sunday 3rd December 2017

It was the third night she’d sat and gone over the same files, each time thinking she had the answer then realising she didn’t.  That wasn’t strictly true, she believed she knew the answer, what she couldn’t do at the moment was prove it. Every way she looked at it there seemed to be one course of action. She needed to talk to the one person that may be able to enlighten her. The same man she had helped incarcerate twenty five years ago, a man whose life she realised she may have ruined. Out on her porch, glass of wine in hand she picked up Adam’s original interview transcript from the day he was picked up and arrested, it had been just before Christmas nineteen-ninety-three.

The transcript started with all of the formalities then the questioning started in earnest.

Interviewer: Are you Adam Spencer?

Suspect: Yes

Interviewer: Were you staying at the Belle Vista Chalet Park between the second of July and the fourth of July nineteen-ninety-three?

Suspect: Yes

Interviewer: Can you tell me what you did from when you arrived up until the time you left? Don’t leave anything out.

Suspect: I got to the park about two thirty on the Friday, I picked the key up from reception and went to my chalet. It was about quarter to three. I went for a walk about four down to the beach, then I went to a pub for a couple of pints. It was six when I got back to my chalet. I had a shower and got ready for my night out. The car was supposed to pick me up from the reception at seven-thirty, I got there at seven-twenty. I waited there until eight, then I checked my invitation to see if there was a number to call. There was no number so I asked in reception for a yellow pages. I looked up ‘Angel Promotions’ but there was no listing.

I went back to the pub I was at earlier and had a few more pints. I don’t remember what time I got home or who with, I woke up the next morning at ten, the girl had gone, there were two used condoms on the floor so I’m guessing it was a good night. Can I have a glass of water?

Interviewer: Sure, I’ll get you one. Please continue.

(Interviewer gestured to PC at door to obtain a cup of water.)

Suspect: There was nothing I could do about what had happened the previous night so I figured as long as the chalet was paid for I may as well enjoy it. I spent the day in Great Yarmouth at the arcades, I got lunch around two – fish and chips at one of the stalls on the seafront, I don’t know what it was called. By three I was back at my chalet before showering and changing. Then I went to the same pub as the night before, once again I had a few drinks, played a few games of pool. I don’t know what time I left but I woke up Sunday morning on the beach at about six a.m. I walked back to my chalet and by eight o’clock I had dropped my keys back at reception and hit the road. I was back home by about eleven-thirty. That was my weekend.

Interviewer: Were you with anyone when you left the pub on the Sunday night?

Suspect: I don’t know.

Interviewer: Did anyone see you at the pub, would anyone there be able to confirm your story?

Suspect: Plenty of people but I can’t give you any names.

Interviewer: Can you confirm that you knew the victim Amy Cooper?

Suspect: Yes, But I haven’t seen her in a few years.

Interviewer: Explain to me how you just happened to be at the same chalet park on the same weekend.

Suspect: (Whispers) I don’t know, I don’t know.

Interviewer: Could you speak up for the tape please:

Suspect: I don’t know

Interviewer: Did you have sex with Amy Cooper on the night of July third nineteen-ninety-three?

Suspect: I’ve told you, I didn’t know she was there, I didn’t see her. I certainly didn’t have sex with her.

Interviewer: Did you go to her chalet?

Suspect: How many more times, I didn’t know she was there.

Interviewer: When was the last time you saw her?

Suspect: I don’t know. Maybe two years.

Interviewer: You’ve had no contact with her in all that time?

Suspect: No.

Interviewer: Why did we find your hair at the scene, and DNA evidence indicating you had intercourse?

Suspect: That’s impossible, this is a fucking set up. There is no fucking way I’m going down for this.

Interviewer: Calm down, just explain to me how we have a dead girl with your semen inside her and your hair on her body?

Suspect: I’m not saying anything else.

(Suspect refused to speak)

Interviewer: Interview terminated… four-fifty-three pm

Sian sank the last of the remnants from her glass of wine and looked at the transcript in her hands, she picked up a couple of other transcripts from subsequent interviews and they were all pretty much identical. The suspect hadn’t faltered once on any of his accounts for the weekend in question. In her years on the force it was unusual for a suspect who was lying to be that consistent with the facts. Generally the consistency he had shown with his recollection would indicate someone who was telling the truth. What she couldn’t get past though was the overwhelming physical evidence. There was only one way that his semen found its way into her and likewise with his hair. What was strange though was that his fingerprints had never been found at the scene.

She looked over the autopsy report for any indication that the victim had been sexually assaulted. On her second reading something stood out, there was no indication of assault though intercourse had taken place, what she found interesting though was the presence of the substance ‘nonoxynol-9’ a spermicidal surfactant used in the manufacture of many leading brands of condom. Although this could be explained by the unexpected failure of the condom, it could also lead to the possibility that another person also had sex with the victim. What she found most puzzling though was that if the suspect had consensual intercourse in the hours leading up to the murder, then why would he not admit to such an act. Was it because he thought it would make him look more guilty, or maybe, just maybe the story he had told them all those years ago was in fact the truth and she and her colleagues had wrongly had an innocent man convicted.

It was eleven-thirty when she looked at her watch, the night air had become cold, the warmth of the alcohol was all that allowed her to stay on the porch. She could hear the gentle waves breaking less than thirty feet from where she sat, the saltiness tinged her lips with every breath. She got up and took her files and glass inside, the air was warmer but not hot, she liked a cool house. She sat on her sofa with a notepad and pen and jotted down a few ideas while they were still in her head. She knew she had to talk to the man she put away, whether he would agree to see her was another matter. She had questions for him.

FORTY

Chapter 12

I could see the fear in her eyes when it dawned on her what was happening. Her once beautiful eyes were gone and were replaced with a fire I had never seen in her. I was glad the rohypnol had done its job because I wouldn’t have wanted to fight her with that look.

“I know you probably have a thousand questions Amy, but this is my time, all you have to do is listen.” She had had long enough to avoid all of this, she was the one that had strung me along all those years, she made me believe that she wanted me as much as I wanted her. No, now she would hear what I wanted, what I was owed. I’d put in all the hours to make her feel special and what had she done for me? “The first thing I want you to know is that I don’t put all the blame on you, in some respect you were the innocent victim. But believe me when I say your co-accused will also be paying tonight. He might not know it yet, but soon enough he will. As far as anyone will know I was not here tonight, he was. And just to clear up a few matters where you think my plan may all unravel, firstly I do not work for the University of East Anglia. There is no introduction evening for students on the midwifery course. I have never been to or met anyone on this chalet park. No one saw you check in, and you are here as Mr And Mrs Heart, in fact Mr Heart – obviously not his real name is actually staying in another chalet not to far from here. He was also lured here under false pretences, lucky for me he was easy, he hasn’t changed. The idea of a weekend of girls offering themselves up for sex was more than enough to get him here.”

All that talking was thirsty work, I got up to grab my bottle of water from my back pack and after unscrewing the cap I offered her some. She must have been as dry as me as I poured from the bottle. The very action of her lips on the neck of the bottle were enough to start me off. I had waited too long to rush things though. As I pulled the bottle away a few drops fell, I followed them as they dropped off her chin and landed just where the opening to her blouse was. The contour of her bra was clearly visible beneath and I decided a little bit of teasing wouldn’t go amiss. Once more the rage burned in her eyes and I could tell that she was trying to summon all her energy to move, but nothing would happen. The stare became more intense as I reached for the top button of her blouse and deftly poked it through, I did the second one too. I pulled the blouse apart to reveal the swell of her bosom and the lace edge of her bra.

I sat back opposite her and enjoyed the view, I took a swig from the bottle and relished the fact that seconds earlier it had been encapsulated by her mouth. I could feel myself strain against the fabric of my jeans. “Do you know why you are here? Of course you don’t. Did you never wonder what happened to me the night of your fifteenth birthday? How I’d helped prepare the perfect evening for you with your parents. How even after all that you could still do what you did.” I couldn’t be sure but there was a perplexed look on her face. Did she really not know what I was talking about. “I can’t believe you don’t remember that evening.” Still the look bemused. “Was fucking Adam such a regular thing that one senseless fuck blended with the next?” At last it registered and I saw the shock in those once beautiful eyes. I sat silently as a tear rolled down the side of her nose. “I wanted to kill him when I saw him on top of you. Then I saw the way your body responded to him. He saw me watching the pair of you and smiled. In that moment I knew I could never be with you. That I would never be able to look at you the same way again. All the times we had been out together you had never shown any inclination to progress to a more intimate relationship. And I respected you for it. I was happy to wait for you to turn sixteen before we started that kind of closeness. But then I saw you, and I knew it wasn’t your first time. It certainly wasn’t your first time with Adam. Was it?”

The tears were almost a constant stream now, but that was too little too late. It was easy to have remorse when you were in the position she was. If she had been sorry she would have tried to contact me after her party, but she hadn’t. She knew where I lived, she could have come to me. I would never have forgotten or got over what I saw but I may have eventually been able to forgive her.

“How long had you been fucking him? No, I don’t want to know.” I remembered pacing around the chalet at this point, the smell of shallots was quite pungent, it’s funny what little details you notice. I knew she wasn’t going anywhere so I sat on the double bed and had a cigarette. I wanted her to contemplate the consequences of her actions all those years ago. What may have been five minutes of ecstasy at the time had meant the end of her life now.

As a reader you are probably thinking that my response to her is beyond what was normal. All I would say to you is, how far would you go if someone shattered your heart into a million pieces? Would you be able to walk away knowing you would never be able to love anyone else with that intensity again. That you would have to live your life seeing that one person who was put on this earth as your soulmate going about their life happy with someone else. The idea of seeing Amy with a family, kids that were not mine, a husband that made her happy and a life without me was not an option. I stubbed the cigarette out and placed the extinguished stick in my pocket, I’d planned too much to leave such a stupid piece of evidence.

Back in with my Amy I could see the confusion in her eyes, I walked over and stood in front of her. I was close enough to feel her breath on my face, using my index finger I wiped away her tears. “You really don’t understand what you did, do you?” I asked her and still saw little recollection in those stunning eyes. “I loved you Amy and you took my heart and ripped it into a thousand pieces. Now it is payback time. An eye for an eye, isn’t that how the old saying goes?” At last there it was – fear. Her beautiful hazel eyes glistened with moisture, the silvery flecks almost glowed. She stared at me as if she didn’t know who I was, and in that moment I didn’t know her. She was no longer the sweet loving girl I had fallen in love with, she now had a hard edge to her. What had Adam done to her? The innocent little girl that was destined to be my soulmate had been soiled by a man who had no regard for her, his only interest in her had been her defilement - nothing more. “Why him? What could he give you that I couldn’t? I wouldn’t have treated you like a piece of meat the way he did. I would have loved you until the end of time. You knew that.” I hate to admit it but I couldn’t stop the tears as I looked at her. But I had to remain focused. I ran my finger down the side of her face, letting it trace a path from under her chin, then down over her throat. There was an intake of breath as it went lower, I twisted my wrist and the back of my hand followed the curve of her breast, a finger traced under the line of her bra. I let my other hand undo the remaining buttons on her blouse. I opened it to allow my eyes to feast on the prize I had been deprived of all these years.

She didn’t disappoint, her body was as I’d imagined, smooth and flawless. I stood up and walked behind her, as I leaned her forward to allow me to remove her blouse I caught her scent. I never believed it before but I would swear it wasn’t just her perfume and odour I could smell, it was fear. A sweetness to her previous odour, she sat there in her bra and as I looked down over her shoulder the view was incredible.

It was too much for me, I couldn’t resist massaging myself as I looked at her. I had never been so hard, and I hadn’t even gotten to the best bits. I didn’t want to rush things so I went back to sit in front of her.

“Do you know what I did the night of your fifteenth birthday?” I knew she couldn’t answer but I still left a gap for her to reply anyway. “No! Then let me enlighten you. After I watched you enjoy having that prick fuck you I went back downstairs and out the front door. I didn’t say goodbye to your parents and I regret that, they were always good to me. I walked, my car was trapped and I had to wait for everyone to leave. But I returned in the early hours and I got in my car and I drove. At times like a mad man, at others so serenely it was like I was eighty years old. It was these times when the tears wouldn’t stop, I sobbed so loudly at times I couldn’t hear my car stereo. That was all down to you. I wanted to die, I tried driving fast and hoped I would lose control. But as much as I tried I couldn’t do it, but in the five or so hours that I drove I did a lot of thinking. I went to see a friend in Wales and on my way back the next day was when I decided things had to change. I had to get away from my life, but more importantly I had to get away from you. Do you know how hard it was to make that decision? I had loved you from the very first time I saw you, that day when me and Pete were installing your parents kitchen and you walked through the door. I didn’t have to think about it I just knew. The way you looked that day, the way you smelled, the way you talked. There was nothing about you that I didn’t love. I never expected you to love me the way I loved you, but I didn’t expect you to do what you did. You knew how I felt about you, you must have. You were the only person I needed or wanted in my life. I would have given anything for us to have been a proper couple. I never pushed you to take things any further than you were willing, I was happy waiting. If you weren’t interested then why didn’t you tell me?” As much as I tried I couldn’t stop the tears, in a way I was glad. I wanted her to see just how much she had destroyed me. To see how much she deserved what was coming.

I had waited long enough, my prize was sat there right in front of me and yet I wasn’t sure I could do it. I would take it slowly, I placed my arms under her seated body and held her to me as I carried her to the breakfast bar and laid her on it. Seeing her young body prone to whatever I wanted to do didn’t give me the thrill I had been hoping for. I thought that having her here, unable to fight back would have been everything I had ever wanted, but it wasn’t. At last I was angry, I felt nothing but disgust. I think what did it was her body stretched on the counter, the memory of that night in her room while he fucked her was vivid in my head. I no longer saw the girl I once loved, I was looking at a whore.

My conscious was clear as I began to enjoy myself. I know I am spending far too much time on my explanation of what I did to Amy, and I make no apology for the fact. The truth is this is my book and I should be allowed a little indulgence in the process. I am certain that the ones that have gotten this far are enjoying this aspect of my manuscript, as I am sure that there are some of you that have only read it for this exact portion. The latter group are the people this book is for, you are like me, you believe in justice. You believe that people should be accountable for their actions, and I am going to disclose to you my justice for Amy Louise Cooper.

With her laid out on the worktop I went to the hob, I switched one of the rings on low. On the chopping board I grabbed the diced shallots, at the same time I placed a knob of butter in the sauté pan I’d bought with me. As the butter began to sizzle in went the shallots, I retrieved the sliced mushrooms and turned down the ring to allow the shallots to sweat down. Focusing back to Amy, I ran my hand along the waistband of her jeans and popped the button. My fingers trembled as I drew the zip down, I was so close to her now. I tossed the shallots in the butter to stop them browning then took her shoes and socks from her dainty feet. I’d always loved them, massaged them many times when she’d asked.

I tugged at the jeans and worked them under her bottom ensuring her underwear stayed in place, I was eager but the anticipation was better. As I removed the pan from the heat the aroma filled the small area of the chalet.while she laid there in bra and knickers just waiting.

“I’m preparing us a lovely meal Amy, let me tell you about it. We’re having pan fried heart in a Shiitake mushroom, Madeira and cream sauce. I have been looking forward to this meal for sometime now, the only problem is I forgot to bring one of the ingredients.” I told her as I ran my finger from her chin, down between her breasts I lingered at her belly button before stopping at the material of her underwear. I was pleased with her choice of underwear, white frilly cami shorts and a matching bra.

The fight appeared to have gone from her, now all I saw when I looked into her once beautiful eyes was a void. A blank darkness that pleased me, she’d finally realised that she had been wrong in her actions that night and that she was ready to accept whatever fate I decided to inflict. Her tears had marked her face and her eyes were now barely slits. I stood at the end of the counter between her legs and slowly moved them apart, I’d always hoped that this scenario would have played out on her sixteenth birthday and that it would have been more tender and a mutual decision. As much as my dream was to be as one with her I would never demean what we had and take her by force, yes there were certain acts I was going to have to perform in order to cover my tracks but it would not be for pleasure. As much as she’d hurt me that was one step too far. My next task was the one I had been least looking forward too. I retrieved an implement from my bag, then proceeded to remove her remaining clothes, this strictly wasn’t necessary but before she left this earth I wanted to see just once the body unfettered that I was destined to be with but would never have the pleasure of. She was naked and it killed me, her body was perfect. Skin so silky smooth and taut, her breasts perky and nipples erect. The honey coloured hair guarding the entrance to what should have been heaven but now held painful memories of what it had invited into its depths on numerous occasions. It was too much for me and I placed my head on her stomach and the tears wouldn’t stop. Eventually I tore myself away and did what I had to do.

“I’m sorry Amy, but he has to pay for his part in all of this to.” I apologised as I inserted the meat baster into her and squeezed the rubber bulb on the end once it was fully inside. What I had done was planted Adam’s seed within her. Earlier that day I had entered his chalet and retrieved a couple of items. I had originally gone in there for a few hairs to plant at the scene, but when I was in his chalet I hit the jackpot. On the cabinet next to the bed was a used condom neatly tied at the end. In my wildest dreams I had never expected to find evidence that would be irrefutable in framing Adam.

With his seed inside her it was time for dinner.

FORTY ONE

Tuesday 5th December 2017

Although she was still on leave Sian didn’t mind using a couple of days to travel to see the man she put away nearly twenty-five years ago. He was serving a life sentence at Parkhurst prison on the Isle of White. She had spoken to her boss the day before and he’d agreed to her going, he’d also contacted the prison and managed to secure a visiting order for the prisoner. The last time she’d spoken to him he was still a teenager, now he would be a middle-aged man in his forties.

She would leave tomorrow morning around five, the journey would take a little under five hours and then she would question the man she last saw as he was led away in cuffs from the courtroom. The memory was still vivid in her mind, on that day she had no doubt about his guilt. She had read the entire transcript from the trial, as a witness she was not allowed to attend in person. The one consistency in all the statements and questions he was asked was that he always professed his innocence. In interviews, on the stand, he never wavered from the fact he was innocent. He admitted that he’d had sexual relations with Amy when she was just fifteen and he was sixteen. It was just the once and it had been during her fifteenth birthday party. As much as he asserted his innocence the physical evidence placed him at the scene, his hair was found on her body, his semen inside her. He was staying in a chalet on the same park at the same time. His reason for being there never stood up to close examination but at the same time his story was so ridiculous that if you needed an alibi you would come up with much better. He admitted to having sex with a girl he’d met at a bar but she was never located, despite his defence pursuing an advertising campaign to find her, the results were un-rewarding.

It was ten o’clock so she decided to call it a night, she placed the folder with the documents she wanted to take on the kitchen counter along with her keys and purse. Her boss had told her to take one of the squad cars but she preferred her own, she now drove a newer version of her classic Porsche 911. She still had the classic she bought all those years ago but she kept it in a lock up and only drove it a few times a year. She settled in bed but sleep was a long time coming, questions kept swirling in her head like water leaves a sink. It was past twelve when exhaustion finally beat her.

Six o’clock the next morning and she was pissed at herself for having slept through her alarm. The traffic would be horrendous now. Her ferry wasn’t until twelve so hopefully if she hit the road in the next thirty minutes she may be alright. Jumping from her bed she started the shower while she brushed her teeth, two minutes under the water would have to do today. In five minutes she was drying herself and putting on her underwear. She made her way to the bedroom her hair dripping, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a black roll neck sweater. She left her hair wet as she wanted to hit the road as soon as possible.

By seven forty-five she was headed south on the M11, she didn’t want to think about the speed limits she’d broken getting there in that time. With the help of the turbo from her Porsche she may just make it to the ferry terminal on time. At eight fifteen she pulled into the South Mimms service station, one – she needed fuel (the way she’d been driving, the car just guzzled the stuff), two – she was starving, she needed refuelling herself. She figured she’d made up enough lost time to allow the fifteen minutes it would take to recharge both her and the car.

Petrol first, then Starbucks where she grabbed the largest Cappuccino they did, along with two sausage rolls and a maple and pecan danish. She walked out of there balancing the food bag on top of her ‘Sian’ emblazoned coffee cup, a heart replaced the dot on the ‘i’, while she fished around for her keys in her pocket. The sun had started to rise and the sky was turning brilliant shades of oranges and reds. With her coffee safely in the cup holder and a sausage roll gripped between her teeth she pulled away.

She didn’t hit traffic until the M4 turnoff for Heathrow, by which time she had devoured the second sausage roll, three-quarters of her drink and with her car stationery she decided to eat the danish. She knew once she had hit the M25 she would have to be more respectful of the speed limits. In her native Norfolk she’d have been able to wriggle out of any violations, but in the metropolitan area her credentials would be worthless. She disliked the Met police after various run ins over the years.

It was twenty minutes before the traffic started moving again. With all her food and drink now consumed she would have to wait until she was on the ferry for anything else. She couldn’t risk stopping again and miss the ferry. At eleven thirty she joined the end of the queue for her ferry. In less than ten minutes she was parked on the boat ready to sail across to the Isle of Wight.

With her Porsche below deck Sian headed up to get something to eat. She was ravenous and could murder a burger. To look at her it was hard to believe that she ate the amount of junk food she did. As slim as when she was in her twenties and apart from the obvious signs of ageing she could still turn heads. Up in the onboard restaurant she glanced briefly at the list of dishes on offer, it took less than ten seconds to decide on the double cheeseburger with fries and a large sprite to wash it down. She sat at a table by the window, the grime and salt obscured her view. She noticed how previous travellers had carved their names into the wooden top of the table, ‘Matt 4 Bev’ encapsulated in a heart was the largest. She ate her meal while she looked out of the window. The Solent was busy at this time of day, small craft skipped over the water, the wake from the ferry created launch ramps for two youngsters on jet-skis. The journey was quick which she was thankful for, it wasn’t long before she was back in her car and rolling off the ferry behind a long line of other vehicles. The air from the car deck still lingered in her nostrils, the sweetness of petrol mixed with the pungency of the diesel.

Sian had never been to Fishbourne and the likelihood was she wouldn’t be returning anytime soon. She followed the Saab in front of her for the first couple of miles as they made their way along Kite Hill towards Wootton Bridge. The heavens began to open and the deluge was making visibility poor. She turned the wipers up to maximum and slowed to a safe distance behind the Saab. Lucky for her the car turned off leaving a clear road, she chanced accelerating knowing that the road was slippery. Her faith in her car had never let her down before and she was an accomplished driver having passed numerous courses within the force. A couple of times the rear end fishtailed and she had to reign it in. The eleven mile journey took her a little over fifteen minutes.

Once parked she grabbed her file and with her jacket over her head made a dash for the entrance to the prison. An old naval hospital, it was an impressive building. Her credentials made for a swifter security check than a normal civilian visiting a prisoner.

Sian had told the warden to inform Adam that he should have his solicitor present. But when she entered the private interview room they had set up for her she discovered he had declined to have counsel there. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. His muscles bulged and strained against every item of clothing, Sian realised that he probably had very little else to do than look after and hone his body.

The room was designed for solicitors to talk privately with their clients and as such afforded a great deal of privacy.  The cameras were there for video only, no sound. However because DI Sian Price was a member of the police the same rules did not apply. There was no client confidentiality, so a prison guard stood just inside the door. Sian hadn’t known what to expect from Adam, but it certainly wasn’t what she got. He started the conversation asking how her journey was and thanking her for making such a long trip. It threw her and she responded with an honest answer explaining about getting up late and having to rush to make sure she didn’t miss the ferry.

They made small talk for about ten minutes before Sian said they should really get down to the reason why she was there.

“Adam, I have my doubts about your guilt.” This was clearly not what he thought this visit was about. She could see the hope in his eyes, the notion that for the first time in nearly twenty-five years someone might actually be interested in his story and not the one that the evidence had led everyone to blindly believe.

“Why now? What has changed? Has new evidence become available?” He asked not daring to dream that his nightmare could possibly come to an end. However this played out he knew he could never have a normal life. He was a man in his forties, he’d been incarcerated for nearly two thirds of his life, what would he do if he was ever released? He’d often thought about publishing his book, he knew it wasn’t much but with the right person going over it maybe it could be made into something that people would want to read.

“It isn’t so much new evidence, more a new theory–my theory. I have gone over and over all the files from when you were convicted and the more I’ve gone over it the more things didn’t add up. That is why I came here today. I want to ask you a couple of things and I wanted to be here in person to be able to see your reactions. I could have emailed a copy of them to the warden and he could have emailed your replies, but I wouldn’t have been able to gauge your response.”

“So what is this theory you have?” He leant back in his chair as if to say ‘now let’s see if you have got it right this time.’

“I believe you were set up. The puzzling thing is I can’t figure out why. And that is where you come in, I am hoping you can fill in the missing piece for me–or pieces.”

“I’ll do my best. But what happens if I can ‘fill in the pieces’ what happens then? A new trial? A new investigation?”

“That would be down to the Crown Prosecution Service, if we can get the evidence on the person I believe to be responsible you could be exonerated.” She said before quickly adding “But to get there I have to be certain that my theory will hold up to scrutiny and that I can get sufficient evidence against the new suspect. You understand that this could take time and may never happen.”

“I understand, I’m grateful that someone is still prepared to fight for my innocence.”

“Do you know of anyone that would want to set you up for the murder of Amy Louise Cooper?”

“No. Like I explained at the time I hadn’t had any contact since we were at school together. I lost touch with her when I left, she was a year below me and once I’d done my exams I never saw or heard from her. I was a bastard back then, I used girls to get what I wanted, and being a hormonal teenage boy that amounted pretty much to one thing.”

“How many times did you sleep with her?”

“Once, on her fifteenth birthday at the party her parents had thrown for her.”

“Tell me about that night.”

“There really isn’t that much to tell. The only difference was that she actually approached me to go up to her room for sex. I’d had a couple of nips of whiskey from the flask I’d taken with me–I knew there was very little chance of alcohol being available. I went and planned on being there an hour before moving onto a club in Watford town centre. It surprised me when she tapped me on the shoulder and told me to follow her. She looked stunning and I didn’t need asking twice. On the way she grabbed me and I told her to at least wait until we were in the privacy of her room. I’d never seen her like that.”

“Did she explain why she was being the way she was?”

“Not until after. I didn’t force myself on her but afterwards she told me it was a mistake and burst into tears. I tried to comfort her but she pushed me away and told me to go. So I did. But it was consensual, she was enjoying it right up until we finished. I’d have known if she wasn’t and would have stopped. I may be a lot of things but I’m not a rapist.” Sian asked if he’d like a tea or coffee before continuing, she liked Adam and the more she spoke to him the more she believed his version of events.

FORTY TWO

The shallots were ready so I added the sliced mushroom, a couple of minutes in the pan and I tipped them out on to the plate, it was now ready for the main ingredient. I looked over at her on the breakfast bar and knew it was time, this was when her life would end – all the planning in the world hadn’t prepared me for what I had to do. I had never been squeamish but the next part had lost some of its appeal. I leaned over her, in my head it was at this point that I had planned on using the knife. I would run the tip of the blade from her throat, down between her breasts and end at her belly button with just enough pressure to draw blood.

Now I knew I wouldn’t be able to hurt her in that manner. Instead I ran my finger along the same path as I leaned closer to her ear, “I love you Amy Cooper, I am doing this all for you. I hope you understand,” I placed my lips to hers and probed her mouth with my tongue, I only wished she had been able to respond. She tasted divine, but I knew it would be the one and only time I would have the pleasure. I pulled away and replaced my mouth with my hand, I cupped it over her nose and mouth hard enough to exclude air entering her lungs. I was surprised at the length of time it took, in the movies it appeared to be over in a matter of seconds, but in reality it took nearly three minutes. Three minutes that felt like three hours.

It was the eyes that told me it had been long enough, one minute there was fight in them, the next it was gone. As simple as that, no last second sparkle as the soul left the body for a better place. One moment she was there the next she wasn’t. Believe it or not I felt sad at her passing, not remorse but sadness at what we could have had together. As I looked at her body I knew it was time for dinner, I wanted her heart while it was still warm. If I could have had it while it was still beating I would.

With the knife n my hand I placed it’s tip just above her breast bone, pushing down hard I broke through the skin. It took both my hands on the handle to draw it down her torso, the sound as it scraped over the bones was rather disconcerting. I stopped at the base of her rib cage. There was very little blood, some but not much. Using the knife at an angle I ran it parallel to each rib to free the flesh from the bone. I followed the contour of each all the way around, after the last I was able to peel the skin away to leave her chest exposed. The adrenaline was flowing freely through my body at the sight of her – the sight of what I had done. From my bag I retrieved a small pair of garden loppers, I’d thought about a simple pair of secateurs but worried that they wouldn’t be up to the job. With her skin pulled back and the loppers in my hand I realised her delicate bone would probably have succumbed to the lesser instrument. The loppers were definitely overkill if you’ll excuse the pun. I used them on each rib in turn, all seven that were attached to the breast bone, I then repeated it on the other ends to remove them completely. It amazed me how tightly compact the internal organs were, I rummaged around with my hand, underneath the lung I found what I was looking for. With her heart in one hand I located the tubes attaching it to the body and in turn severed each until I could hold it in my hand away from her chest.

I would have sworn I saw the heart beat when I placed it on the chopping board. The meat was tougher than I had thought it would be, but the knife made quick work of it. With the pan heated up I placed the slithers of meat in with a knob of butter, After a couple of minutes I turned them and a few minutes after that added the shallots and mushroom. Back up to temperature and in went the Madeira, while I waited for it to reduce I looked back to Amy, it was strange to think that her heart would soon be inside me. What was stranger was that when she left her house this morning she had no idea that she would end up being my dinner.

In went the cream, it started to smell divine and in a few minutes it would be ready. I knew a meal wasn’t a meal without some kind of potato dish and vegetables, but this was more of a symbolic dinner. I turned the heat off and placed some of the meat in sauce on my plate, I hadn’t thought it was possible but I had begun to lose my appetite. I was adamant that I would see the evening through as planned so with my knife and fork in hand I took my first tentative step into cannibalism. I wasn’t impressed, the meat was chewy and in the end I had to swallow the pieces whole, the sauce was amazing but the texture and taste of the meat wasn’t for me. I ate just over half of her heart, before I admitted defeat and left the rest.

It was finally time to call it a night. I put my stuff in my bag, then I meticulously went over the whole chalet with a tub of alcohol wipes and wiped over everything I could remember touching and even things that I hadn’t. It was gone midnight when I finished. One final check around and I was ready to go, the knife I was leaving behind along with the pan – it had been thoroughly wiped clean. I placed my bag by the door, I went over to Amy – there was a strong smell in the chalet not just the alcohol wipes but something was emanating from the cavity I had opened in her. One last kiss, that was all I now wanted from her. I leaned in and where before there was warmth now there was only clammy. Her lips were pallid, but she was still beautiful, she always would be. I checked outside before I left to make sure no one was about, then I casually removed myself from the chalet and walked from the park. I kept two souvenirs from that night, her bra and panties, the other thing I took from the evening was the fact I could finally forgive her for her part in what had happened that night. For Adam his nightmare was yet to begin.

Now, for the readers that have read this far you may be a bit confused. Earlier you may remember me telling you about all the fun I had with Amy on that final night, well I may have misrepresented it slightly. Not intentionally you understand. It was as I began writing about that night that my misconception reared it’s ugly head, I realised I had created a perfect evening in my mind. But when it came to putting pen to paper I knew I had to tell the story exactly how it was – warts and all. The truth was the night was not what I had dreamt it would be. I’d built the night up so much in my head, it was a last romantic evening with the girl I’d loved from the first moment I’d laid eyes on her, that it passed me by that it was the night I was to murder her in cold blood. Don’t get me wrong I don’t regret what I did, just the manner in which I did it. I should of taken care of the pair of them the night I caught them in the act. I know the right thing would have been to walk away and never look back from that night, forget she existed, carry on with my life without her being a part of it. If I had taken that route I would not have found the peace I now enjoyed, I’d have tormented myself over what could have been and the life she was living without me.

I make no apology for misleading you earlier in the book, as I was writing it what I told you was true. Or at least the truth as I knew it then. I have evolved the same way the story has evolved, I believe you now have the true account of that night, I could have embellished and romanticised the evening but it would have been a lie.

I started the drive back to my apartment listening to sixties music on the radio. It was upbeat and it made me feel good – not that I felt bad, the night had been successful, I had taken minimal risk, and I still had the morning to tidy up any possible loose ends. The one thing that would have been nice to finish the evening off would have been some female company, my body craved a release that self fulfilment would not satisfy. As much as I wanted to take Amy in this way I knew it was wrong. It would have been so easy, her prone body could not have resisted and that was the problem. No resistance meant no response, and I would have wanted her to feel every moment and to enjoy it. Though you may find it hard to believe I had morals, and taking Amy against her will was one line I wasn’t prepared to cross.

My only solution was a quick detour to South Quay, I knew that late at night and into the early hours there were certain girls available for certain acts. It was twenty to one as I cruised along, the cargo boats moored to the right and the large industrial units to my left. I spotted what I was looking for a couple of hundred yards ahead. The sodium lights cast a yellow glow over the battleship grey Royal Navy frigate. Where there were sailors, there would always be girls. Sure enough as I drew closer in the shadows of buildings were groups of women – no, girls would be more appropriate. I pulled up alongside them, there were maybe half a dozen stood chatting. A quick scan and I settled on the one I wanted, she appeared to be the shyest and youngest. She separated herself from the main group but still tried to remain within their circle. I caught her eye and gestured for her to come over to my car. She was perfect, blonder than Amy but build and looks were close enough. She walked over and didn’t look back at the others, they appeared oblivious to her leaving them too. I promised her fifty pound if she would come back to my apartment for an hour, I told her it was only a couple of minutes away. She seemed thrilled with the offer and couldn’t get in the car quick enough. I drove back across the bridge to Southtown and my apartment. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her legs, her skirt was barely more than a belt and her top was low cut exposing immature breasts.

I parked on the gravel outside my home and told her to wait for me at the front door while I grabbed a couple of bits from my car. I looked around to see if there was anyone about, the last thing I wanted was to be seen taking a hooker into my apartment. Inside I asked her if she wanted a drink.

“Have you got vodka?” She asked.

“Sure, you want anything with it?”

“No thanks”

I poured us both a drink, and set them on the breakfast bar. She grabbed her glass and the liquid flowed down her throat without touching the sides. “Payment before anything.” She said.

“Of course.” I handed her two twenties and a ten, then I offered her a further twenty if she would agree to  a special request. She took the seventy and the items I handed her and went to the bathroom. Five minutes later she came out and I wasn’t disappointed.

I motioned for her to join me in the kitchen, she walked over and she looked stunning in the underwear I had removed from Amy less than two hours ago. As she stood in front of me I could tell that she was new to this type of work, this was even better than I had imagined. I was harder than I had been in a long time. I lifted her up and sat her on the edge of the breakfast bar, apart from her inability to fill out the bra top like Amy had she was perfect. As much as I knew I had no reason to give her any pleasure I wanted it to be like it was a couple of hours ago and that this was not some random hooker but my Amy.

I started at her feet and kissed up each leg in turn stopping at the hem of the shorts. Before going any further I removed my t-shirt and jeans, then I gently massaged her through the shorts. I leant over her and lifted the bra up over her perky breasts, the nipples were hard and in turn I took each one into my mouth and chewed hungrily on them. All the while my hand pushed against the shorts. My groin was aching so much I thought I would explode. I felt a dampness come through where my hand was and knew I wouldn’t be able to forego my pleasure any longer. I tugged my boxers down and manoeuvred myself into position, with her legs over the end of the counter I moved the material of the shorts to one side to allow myself access to her hidden depths. She was warm and willing and very wet. I held an ankle in each hand and stretched her legs apart as I thrust deep and quick inside her. Her body started responding as I neared the point of no return, I closed my eyes and thought of Amy in those final minutes. So close to the end my mouth found her calf muscle and my teeth clamped on as I exploded inside her. She let out a scream, when I realised what I’d done I removed my mouth, I thanked god that I hadn’t drawn blood. With my desire sated, she took herself back to the bathroom to change back into her street clothes.

“I left the underwear in the bathroom.” She said as she made her way to the door.

“Would you like a lift back?” I thought it was only polite to offer. She declined and that was the last I saw of her. I never even found out her name.

It was the perfect end to a memorable day, the only day I ever killed. The only day I ever wanted to kill. Adam’s fate would be worse, killing him would have been too easy.

FORTY THREE

“Are you ready to continue Adam?”

“Yes. Where was I?”

“Amy had asked you to leave.”

“Right – my original plan had been to leave, but with Amy the way she was I stuck around to make sure she was alright. I caught up with her about an hour later, I’d stayed off the booze so my head was clear. I asked her to take a walk with me and to my surprise she agreed. I’d never seen her like that, she was vulnerable. She’d always been strong and confident. She held my hand as we walked to the end of her garden. We found a bench and we sat in silence for what must have been fifteen minutes. Then it all came out, she’d speak for a while, then cry, then speak some more. But what it all boiled down to was that she loved someone else. She felt guilty about sleeping with me which was why she was the way she was after we had sex.” He was silent but Sian didn’t want to say anything in case it put him off what he was telling her. “She said she realised while we were doing it, said that it had been in front of her all the time but she just hadn’t realised it. She thought she had probably loved him from the first time she had seen him but had been too young and immature. She apologised for what she said to me earlier in the evening but she had to find him to tell him how she felt.” He stopped but Sian could see something on his face, it was a look she had seen on witnesses faces before. It happened when they didn’t know whether what they wanted to say had any relevance to the case. She watched his inner demons battle it out. “Something else happened that night. I don’t think it has any relevance but when me and Amy were… you know… someone opened the door. I looked up and I saw him standing there and he just watched, he must have been there for thirty seconds as I carried on, I smiled at him and he shut the door and left.”

“I want you to think before answering my next question.”

“OK”

“Did you know the boy that opened the door?”

Without hesitation he answered “Pinky, Amy’s friend.” It was the way he said friend that told Sian he had no idea that it was Pinky that Amy was in love with.

Sian felt a tingle deep inside her at the prospect of being proved right, she reached into the folder and withdrew a photograph. She slid it across the table, it was the picture of a young man. “Do you recognise him?” She asked.

“That’s Pinky.”

That was the answer she had hoped beyond all hope she would get. This was the missing link, now everything clicked into place. She was disappointed that it had taken her this long for justice to prevail. Though she knew it wasn’t over yet, she first had to convince her boss that she was right, if she could accomplish that they would then need to persuade the CPS.

Her drive back was much more sedate than her earlier one. She kept going over in her mind the events that had led her to this point. If she hadn’t decided to move from her flat to the beach side bungalow, she’d never have sorted through her boxes of previous cases. She believed that some larger force was directing her to fight for Adam’s freedom. If all the pieces hadn’t lined up then she never would have believed that the person behind the mutilation of Amy Cooper was ‘Pinky’ she didn’t know him as that but it was definitely him.

She arrived home shortly before midnight, exhausted but with a renewed vigour. Tomorrow she would take what she had to her boss, hopefully it would be enough to convince him that there was reason to probe deeper. She was certain he would be as shocked as she was when he found out that it was possible ‘Pinky’ had murdered Amy Cooper.

FORTY FOUR

Today was the day Pinky had planned on finishing his book. He’d told the inmates that if they gave him peace and quiet to finish his manuscript then he would have a surprise for all of them for christmas. They had all agreed to keep the noise to a minimum, so by eight thirty he had started his final chapter. He was excited at the prospect of his book being finished. Excited and scared. He knew that at some point he would be charged with Amy’s murder. On the positive side he would finally get credit for his work.

Chapter 13

I feel I have been completely honest with you my readers, I have held nothing back and I hope you have enjoyed my tale. There are a couple of things that I think I should make clear before we come to the end of our journey together.

Firstly, I loved Amy Cooper, and I believe I will always love her. I will admit that there were times when I didn’t respect her, I even came close to hating her. But beneath all of my anger there was always an undying love for her. I don’t regret what I did.

Secondly, I am not a psychopath. I didn’t kill Amy for the sake of killing, I had my reasons and the fact you have read to this point must mean that you understand. Whether you agree with my reasons or not I really don’t give a fuck. I did what I had to do for my own sanity. I know that there will be some of you out there that will call me a murdering bastard or an unhinged psycho, that is your prerogative. There will be others of you, especially those of you that have been hurt the way I was that will applaud me. That leaves one other group, and to those I apologise. You are the ones that will think I didn’t go far enough in punishing Amy or Adam. You will see it as a missed opportunity, may even think of me as weak. I did what I had to do for me, not anyone else.

Now with that cleared up I’ll go back to my story. With Amy out of my life I felt I would be ready to continue unhindered. I decided that for the immediate future my life would carry on as if nothing had changed. I would stay at my job, in fact that was a necessity as it formed part of my plan and had done from the outset. I saw Amy once more before she was buried.

It was a few months later – after she had been laid to rest that my new life truly started. And that new life has lasted twenty four years.

I appear to be at the end of my story for the time being. What happens next will happen, all I know is that I have laid out the facts as I believe them to be true. What the authorities choose to do with it once they become aware is up to them. I am happy to take credit now for my work. I may write another book to let my readers know what happens from this point onwards, also there are stories I have left out of this one because I didn’t want it to appear self indulgent. So for now I will say Adieu because I am certain that our paths will cross again.

THE END

Pinky looked down at the words he had just written, had he really just finished his first book? He placed his pencil to the side and sat back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. He had never been so proud of an accomplishment, at least not since the birth of his two daughters. He could hear Chef and Fiddler talking quietly, he appreciated that they had all remained quiet to let him finish his work. He looked at his clock, three forty-five, his stomach told him that he had missed lunch. If he was to be totally honest he couldn’t care, he was so excited about finishing that eating was the last thing on his mind. He wouldn’t say no to a glass of single malt though – maybe later! He opened his desk and took out the other two full pads, it seemed like a lifetime since he had written on the front cover of the first pad. He remembered back to when he wrote the words ‘Velvet Heart’, he had to admit he still wasn’t certain about the title. As he contemplated it he traced his finger around the large red heart he had drawn. He fought back the tears as the words began to resonate and the full implications of his novel sank in. The words would always be true regardless of what happened next, ‘Amy Cooper’ above the heart and ‘Forever’ below. Forever was a long time but he knew he would never stop loving her. By the time he had cleared out his desk, and placed everything in his satchel style bag it was five o’clock precisely.

The day had gone quicker than he’d thought, he wouldn’t be seeing the inside of this cell for twelve days. His cell was the only one in the block without a door, as the duty guard he shared it with the others that worked on a rolling rota. He was currently on the day shift, Mark Walker had turned up fifteen minutes earlier with his trademark takeaway coffee in hand to begin his shift. It was the same ritual every time, a quick conversation about the previous eight hours, any issues etc. Pinky knew that Mark generally spent his time here watching porn on his iPad with headphones. The job requirement was generally babysitting a bunch of psychopaths, the rest of the guards used their time here to surf the internet, watch telly or sleep. Pinky tried to make his time productive. Unlike the others he liked the company of the inmates, he found he could have more informed conversations with them than any of his colleagues. It had been like that his entire working life, he’d worked for morons and sadists. There had been a couple of colleagues he’d liked but had never got that close to them.

“Have a good Christmas Mark.” He said as he made his way out of the cell.

“You too mate.” Pinky could see that he was already engrossed into whichever genre of porn was his current favourite.

He walked up to the cell with Chef behind the bars, “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.” He said as he extended his hand into the cell, he knew this was prohibited behaviour but it was Christmas. Chef took his hand and placed his other over the top of both of them, “You too my friend, and get your book out there, maybe one day you can be like us and spend all your days and nights in here.” They both laughed, Pinky knew none of them believed his story, they were all convinced he was writing a novel. Pinky had sworn to them on many occasions that his book was an autobiography but his assurances had been met with derision and laughter.

“Have a good Christmas the rest of you and don’t worry, I will come good on my promise to reward you for being well-behaved today.” He said as he walked down the corridor and was buzzed through three security doors before he reached the car park. It was dark and raining, but he was done for nearly two weeks. He ran across to his car, his satchel tucked inside his jacket to protect his work. He pressed the remote switch on his key fob and watched as the light flashed on his Renault Clio, although six years old he loved his little car.

He was happier than he had been in a long time, and sang along to the songs coming from the stereo system – something he hadn’t felt like doing in a long time. He knew that once his book was published there were enough people that would believe in its validity for him to be arrested. A part of him couldn’t wait for it to happen, the prospect of being shackled in front of his family made him hard. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his wife, he did, just not the same way he had loved Amy Cooper. It took him fifty minutes to get home, the traffic on the A40 was horrendous but not enough to dampen his excitement. As he pulled into his driveway he smiled as he saw his wife through the living room window, it looked as if she was placing presents under the tree. He leant back in his seat, just wanting one more minute in his own private heaven. One more minute until normality took over. He was contemplating whether to let his wife read his manuscript, he laughed to himself as he imagined her reading it while sitting next to him in bed. He had often wondered what she would think of him when she knew what he’d been responsible for.

FORTY FIVE

December 22nd 2017

It was nine o’clock, DI Sian Price had arrived from Norfolk a little over an hour ago. She had had to fight to be here, her boss eventually swung it for her by calling in a favour with a former DI now the Chief Superintendent of Hertfordshire Constabulary. He’d managed to get her an invite as an observer.

“Sian, this is DI Jim Swales, he’ll be making the arrest tonight. There’ll be the two of you and two uniformed officers in case they’re needed. We don’t expect any issues, but you never know.”

“Hi Jim, it’s nice to meet you.” She said extending her hand. He was six two, muscular with an angular jaw and Nordic appearance. But his good looks couldn’t hide his love of food or possibly beer.

“You too Sian, it should be quite straightforward. We’ve checked into the guy and we can’t see any reason for him to resist. He seems to be living a normal life, he goes to work, has a family, I’m sure you have your reasons to believe he is the man responsible, but to be honest from what we have managed to get on him he appears squeaky clean. What exactly is it that you have?”

“I realise what it looks like Jim, but believe me, I have been over and over the evidence a thousand times and this is the only theory that makes any sense. I’ll be happier when he is in custody, I don’t know how he will react once he realises we have connected the dots back to him. But the bastard has to pay, an innocent man has been languishing in jail while this piece of shit has carried on with his perfect life. To make matters worse he has a family, and what the fuck is that all about, I just don’t get it.” She vented like never before, her journey down gave her all the time she needed to let things fester in her mind. She still found it hard to comprehend that the young man she once knew was capable of such an act, and then to compound things even further he did what he did to her family. “In answer to your question, we have physical evidence – fingerprints and DNA at the scene. None of which we can use. A connection to the victim, they had some sort of a relationship when they were younger, and as of a few days ago I have a motive. The CPS won’t take it to trial with what we have, I am banking on finding some evidence at his house, or better still a confession. I have yet to meet a killer that doesn’t want the credit for their crimes, and that is what I’m hoping for.”

“Did I hear it right? You know him?”

“Yeh, from many years back, the kid I knew then I would never have believed capable of the crime. He was quiet, unassuming, a nice kid. If you had told me at the time he was responsible for the butchering of Amy Cooper I’d have laughed in your face. Even now the absurdity of it astounds me.”

“So why do you think he did it? What was his motive?” Jim asked still unconvinced.

“Jealousy – pure and simple. Though he managed to quell his revenge long enough to distance himself from the victim, and removing himself from our investigation. If the crime hadn’t been what it was I would go so far as to say I admire the lengths he went too. He left no element to chance, he only made one mistake and it had nothing to do with the crime.” Sian finished.

At nine thirty they headed to the house, it had been decided there would be no sirens or flashing lights, they wanted this to go without incident. Sian was in the passenger seat of the unmarked BMW, Jim Swales was at the wheel and they were closely followed by a squad car with two uniformed officers. In less than ten minutes Sian knew she would be face to face with Amy’s killer, she realised she still had a lot of people to convince. The rain started to fall a couple of minutes out, both cars pulled up outside the house. Lights were on in the front window and there was movement within. Jim made it quite clear that he would do all the talking and make the arrest and that DI Sian Price was there purely as an observer. They walked quickly to the front door, the two uniformed officers closely behind. Sian wished she’d bought a heavier jacket as the rain was turning to sleet and there was a sharp bite to the air.

FORTY SIX

Pinky had gone upstairs shortly after dinner, his wife had cooked Spaghetti Bolognese – she wasn’t much of a cook. They’d had a very civil conversation, as usual centred on their two girls. Neither was currently at home, a friend was having a Christmas party and they had both been invited, Pinky had been tasked with picking them up at ten thirty. He had about thirty minutes until he would have to leave. Until then he sat with the last of his writing pads in front of him. He knew his wife would be downstairs washing up, so he should be fine for the few minutes he would need. She had no idea he had written the book, he kept the pads hidden under the removable panel in his wardrobe.

The secret compartment also hid his one other prized possession, in fact he tried to look and feel it as often as possible. Amy’s underwear was his one last reminder of the girl he loved. He could still feel the warmth of her skin as he‘d removed them. The softness of her thigh as he pulled them off. He would often hold them to his face and would swear he could still smell her.

Back to his writing pad, the one where he had previously written the words THE END. He crossed them out, he had forgotten one final paragraph. He remembered back to the day he started the book and the way he was going to begin. The difference now was that he was ready to write what he couldn’t back then.

Dear reader, before I write those fateful words that will signal the completion of my book I would like to revisit the beginning. You may remember how I started to tell you something, well now seems a fitting time to fill you in. For the last few hundred pages you have known me as ‘Pinky’, I would now like to introduce myself properly – my name is Philip Thorne, and it has been a pleasure to have you all along for the ride.

THE END

As he wrote the last word he heard the doorbell, he quickly closed the pad and placed it with the others in the secret compartment. With the manuscripts safely tucked away he couldn’t resist once quick inhalation from the underwear. He heard his wife move towards the front door as he secured the wooden panel back in the base of the wardrobe, he covered the it with some old work clothes – jeans, sweaters and a couple of old pairs of football socks.

Jim placed his finger on the bell, he still wasn’t sure they were doing the right thing. He could see movement through the single square pane of glass two-thirds of the way up the bright red door. The glass was obscure so he couldn’t make out much, but there was definitely movement inside. A few seconds later the door was opened. Hayley Thorne stood there dressed in a red silk satin robe that finished just above the knee, as she opened the door and saw the two people in front of her she self-consciously drew the robe tighter around her body. She wasn’t fat but had gained a few pounds over the years. She looked at the pair suspiciously until Jim produced his warrant card.

“Hello, I’m DS Jim Swales and this is DI Sian Price.” At this point Sian also held out her warrant card for inspection. “Would you mind if we came in?”

“What’s this about, are my kids alright? Has something happened?” She was panicking now.

“No, we just need to speak to Mr Philip Thorne, is he here?”

“Yes, he’s just upstairs, but he has to go and pick our girls up in a minute. Can this not wait until after Christmas?”

“Who is it Hales?” A voice called from upstairs. Sian recognised the voice in an instant, in her mind she pictured the twenty-two year old rookie she felt sorry for. The day she arrived at the crime scene and this pale faced PC stood before her as if he was about to lose his breakfast.

“Could we come in Mrs Thorne? It will make things easier.”

“Yes sorry, please come in.”

They walked in and she closed the door behind them. As they stood in the hallway Philip made his way down the stairs. “How can we help you?” He asked, Sian could see the shock on his face as he realised who was standing in the hallway. “Haley have you offered the officers a drink? Go and put the kettle on would you love. It’s freezing outside and I’m sure they would like something hot.”

Sian knew what he was doing and was happy to go along with it, she felt like she owed him that.

“Would you like tea or coffee?” Hayley asked.

“Coffee, black please.” Sian said.

“I’m good thanks.” Jim said.

Hayley walked off down the hall, Philip ushered them into the sitting room. A cosy space with a cream corner sofa facing a huge screen. A large claret rug covered Oak floorboards. DI Sian Price and DS Jim Swales took the sofa while Philip stood.

“It’s been a long time Philip. Do you know why we’re here?” Sian asked, she knew this was Jim’s jurisdiction but he seemed quite happy for her to take the lead, he noticed the way Philip looked at her and sensed that there may have been more to their relationship than just colleagues.

“Not really, no.” He answered, there was no way they could have got wind of his manuscript. He had only spoken to the inmates about his book, there was no one else he had told. So all he could think was that this was a fishing trip – they had nothing. It was true he was ready for the world to know of his crimes, but on his terms not theirs.

“Philip, we need you to come to the station to answer some questions about Amy Cooper.”

“I thought this had all been resolved, the bastard is serving life, why drag it all back up again. Her family deserve peace, don’t rake it all back up for them.”

“Philip, we know. We know everything.” Sian said. She could see a fire in his eyes, he was battling some inner demon. The turmoil in him was evident, he must know that they could connect him to the family, he was married to Amy’s sister for god’s sake. They knew he had once been very close to Amy, he was her best friend. Yes it was true there was very little physical evidence against him, but she knew he did it.

“I’ll answer your questions, I have nothing to hide.” He held out his hands wrists together, palm up in mock surrender. “It’s a fair cop guv’nor” He was mocking them. But his timing couldn’t have been worse, Hayley stood in the doorway mouth agape, a mug of steaming black coffee in her hand.

“What’s going on Philip? Why are they arresting you?” Her voice shook as she asked.

“Baby they’re.not arresting me, I just need to pop down the station with them and answer a couple of questions. It’s just a formality. I used to work with DI Price when I was on the force.”  He omits that it was in Norfolk. He has been very selective what he has told her over the years, she still doesn’t know that he once lived and worked where her sister was brutally murdered. “Sian, if you want we can go now, get this over with?” He just wants to get the pair of them away from his wife. “Hayley, do you want to call an Uber to pick the girls up. I’ll be back before you know it.” He looked from Sian to Jim and back to Sian again hoping they would go along with what he was saying.

“Sorry about the coffee Mrs Thorne, but Philip is right the sooner we get going the sooner we can get this sorted.” She stood and started toward the door, followed by DS Swales. They let Philip give his wife a peck on the cheek before they ushered him out to their car. Sian knew he wouldn’t be home anytime soon if she was right. A lot depended on him tripping himself up during the questioning or better still offering a full confession.

Hayley had to make a phone call, she didn’t want the kids involved in any of this. “Hi mum, could you possibly pick the girls up from their friends please and let them stay at yours tonight?” She gave her mum the address and told she would fill her in later.

FORTY SEVEN

The ride back began pretty much in silence, Sian was worried about becoming too involved in the case, she knew that if it ever came out about their brief liaison it could jeopardise everything. The traffic was heavy and the rain was torrential, the wipers barely managed to keep up. Philip ‘Pinky’ Thorne sat in the back, hands cuffed, they had done this out of sight of his wife, Sian could tell that he wanted to talk. She only hoped he wanted to talk about the right things.

“Why now?” He suddenly asked from his position behind her.

“What do you mean?”

“What has changed in the last twenty odd years for you to suddenly turn up at my house and accuse me of a crime that was so heinous I’ve had nightmares all these years. You knew it was part of the reason I left the force and went into private security. Even now my job is guarding the monsters that have committed deeds that make my stomach turn. Why would you even think I could do such a thing.” She could sense a smugness to his tone

“We have our reasons.” Her use of ‘we’ was deliberate, she knew it was her that believed in his guilt. Yes, she had persuaded her boss but it was going to be a harder sell when it came to the Hertfordshire constabulary. Even DS Swales had his doubts, all he saw was a normal middle aged man with a loving wife and family. She had to confess that on the outside he was.right but lurking below the surface was a monster. A monster who had murdered his one true love and then set out to marry her younger sibling, if that wasn’t the definition of a monster she didn’t know what was.

“Sian, you know me, you know I could never kill.” He was playing with her now.

“Then you have nothing to worry about when we question you, do you?”

He never said another word after that, just sat in the back of the car in silence. Sian was grateful, she didn’t really want to get into a dialogue with him until it was on record. Although she was allowed to come to the arrest it had been made quite clear that she would not be allowed to question him. That honour was to go to Jim, though he had been given a list of questions by Sian.

Back at the station while Philip Thorne was being booked in Sian and Jim made their way to the canteen, it was time for her to fill him in on exactly why she thought he was guilty. With any luck she hoped it would improve the way he questioned the suspect. She had seen it many times before when the interviewer believed the accused to be innocent, they tended to ask soft questions rather than trying to get to the truth. They sat at a table both with some brown liquid in a plastic cup sold to them as coffee, “So DI Price tell me why you believe he is guilty.”

“Call me Sian, please.” She went on to explain all her reasons why. After an hour he rose from his chair and told her that he would be happy for her to sit in on the interview.

FORTY EIGHT

The cell was ten by six, a toilet in the corner stank of stale piss. Pinky looked around and  thought how much better the ones at the old asylum were. He sat there thinking what his friends would make of his incarceration. Did this finally make him one of them? He always knew this day would come but he needed it to be on his terms. He was confident that he would be out in a few hours. They had nothing on him, the only evidence was back at his house – well hidden. His downfall would be if they discovered the underwear, they could link them to Amy. If he could get through the interview he decided he would hand them what they needed. It would be his way of telling them he had won, besides he had a plan in place that would allow him to carry on living as a free man. He was bored of his current life and he needed to start again, and he knew just how to do it.

He could hear voices outside his cell, one was distinctively female, a voice that until today he had never thought he would ever hear again. Although he had only worked with her for a short while it had been quite eventful from what he remembered. She had always been nice to him, especially the day he found the love of his life lying butchered in the chalet. He had a smile to himself at his recollection of his acting prowess that morning. It was another hour before a rather attractive young WPC came and escorted him to interview room three. A black rubber topped table, three chairs and a recording device. He had been in many interview rooms like this, though usually he played the role the young WPC was playing today. It was a few minutes before he was once again in the presence of DS Swales and his old colleague DI Sian Price.

They went through the usual formalities for the tape before DS Swales began his questioning. Pinky had refused the offer of a solicitor, instead telling them that he had nothing to hide.

“Philip Thorne, did you know the deceased Amy Cooper before the morning of July fourth nineteen ninety three.” He started with what should be an easy question.

Philip ‘Pinky’ Thorne just sat there, a grin plastered on his face. He was going to have fun, if they thought his acting was good before then they hadn’t seen anything yet.

They questioned him several times over the next twelve hours, each question he was asked he had an answer for. He admitted that he had known Amy but that was it, the more he was asked the more frustrated Sian got. Eventually DS Swales called it a day and instructed the custody sergeant to release him on police bail. Sian was pissed, but she understood that he had no option, if the tables were turned she would have done exactly the same. She thought to herself that he may have won this battle but there was not a hope in hell of him winning the war. If the law was incapable of dealing with a piece of shit like Philip Thorne then she would find another way to nail the son of a bitch.

FORTY NINE

“Why did they keep you so long?” Hayley asked her husband when he came through the door mid-morning the day after he was taken down the station.

“Babe, can I at least have a shower and something to eat before you start the interrogation please?” He said as he walked straight past her and up the stairs, no cuddle or kiss for his wife. Fifteen minutes later he sat at the .Jali dining table he had always hated, he never understood his wife’s obsession with the Indian style furniture. If he’d had his way it would be more modern, maybe chrome and glass.

“Why did they take you in? And don’t lie to me.” She said before placing a cheese omelette in front of him. The way the plate hit the table told him that she wasn’t happy. He looked at her closely, this was the first time since they had been married that he had seen the fire return to her eyes. When they first got together it was what had turned him on the most – her free spirit. She wouldn’t be told what to do, she was her own person. Over their married life he had driven it from her, small jibes here and there about her looks, her weight, anything that would slowly smother her spark. There came a point, and he remembered it to this day when it was finally extinguished.

“Why? Why do you want to know?” He leaned back in his chair and slowly pushed the plate away. He had to quell her re-emergence from submissive wife and settle her back in her place once and for all. He was bored with her, had been for a number of years. If she really wanted to know what this was all about then it was about time she realised who it was she was married to.

“Why are you being like this Philip?”

“I’ve always been like this, I’m not the one who changed, what happened to that feisty, spunky thirteen year old from Amy’s funeral?” He knew which buttons to press, the mere mention of her sister could send her into deep depression that could last weeks. The way he felt at the moment he was happy to let her slide so far and deep into that depression that it would take her years to recover if at all.

“You’re a bastard, do you know that?” She went to walk off.

“They asked me about Amy.” He took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and a lighter and lit one before he placed them on the table. It was nearly five years since he’d given up, but he figured it wouldn’t be too long until he was serving at her majesty’s pleasure so he may as well get back into the habit again. And besides he had missed it, it was one of the few things he had ever done for Hayley. “They questioned me about her murder.” He could see the effect this was having on her, the tension in her face, the vein in her temple was beginning to pop. “They think I had something to do with her murder.”

“Why would they think that?” She was confused, he loved her sister. Why on earth would they even think he had anything to do with the killing of her.

“Because I did.” He confessed, he knew whatever he told her would be her word against his. She laughed at him. It was not the reaction he had expected and it just proved what he had always known – she thought he was a joke. She went to walk off.

“SIT THE FUCK DOWN WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU.” He stood and slammed his fist on the table. At last he could finally see fear in her eyes.

“You’re scaring me Philip.” She said as she took the seat opposite him. The atmosphere in their once warm and friendly house had become distinctly frosty in the last couple of minutes. “So if you did it why did they let you go. They wouldn’t let you come home to me and the kids if you’d really killed my sister. Is this some fucked up joke of yours? Because if it is I’m not finding it very funny.”

“They let me go because they have no evidence. Nothing. All they have is DI Price’s theories which nobody else seems to believe. Except maybe that prick of a DS that came with her, but all he’s interested in is.getting in her knickers. The evidence they do have – fingerprints, hair fibres and DNA at the scene can’t be used.”

“That’s bullshit, if they had all that evidence you wouldn’t be here now.” He could sense her mocking him, he could feel his blood begin to boil.

“Little miss know-it-all for your information none of my evidence can be used because it is discounted as I was the responding officer and first on the scene. I made sure that I was the closest officer so that I could ensure that if I’d left any evidence behind it wouldn’t count.” He sat and looked at her, he could see as her brain tried to process what he was telling her.

“But what about the man they caught, there was evidence that he did it, his semen was even found inside her. He’s serving life for what he did.” She countered as she tried to catch him out.

“Correction, he is serving life for a crime I committed. Do you remember the night of Amy’s fifteenth birthday?”

“Yes, I was allowed to stay up late, and I can recall that at the end of the night no one could find you. Amy was upset that she couldn’t thank you for all the hard work you had put in. And I especially remember overhearing a conversation she had with mum. They were in the kitchen filling black sacks with the rubbish and I was standing by the door – they didn’t see me. At the time I didn’t know what they were talking about but now I think I know. She was telling mum that she had made a mistake, that she’d realised that night that she had feelings for someone. She said she didn’t know exactly what the feelings were but there was something, more than friendship and that she knew he felt the same. Then she begged her to help her find you because you had to know how she felt.”

This was a knife to the heart for him, if the table hadn’t been separating them he would have placed his hands around her pretty little throat and squeezed until either she took the words back or her life was extinguished. At this point n time he had no preference one way or another – what she said was a lie, it had to be. He hadn’t gone through all that he had just to be told he’d made a mistake. If that was the case it was one hell of a monumental fuck up on his part.

“You’re a fucking lying whore just like your sister.”

“She loved you Pinky.” She had never called him Pinky, ever since the day at the funeral he had wanted to be known to her as Philip. He was ‘Pinky’ to Amy, he wanted it to be different withHayley. When he saw her that day he had truly thought that he could build a life with her and be happy. It was only after the birth of their second child that he had started to change towards her. He saw her for what she was – a poor copy of Amy, he should have known that he would never be able to get away from his feelings for her older sister. Even in the beginning he could never stop himself fantasising that she was her. Often thinking of Amy in her final moments at the point of climax.

“No she didn’t, if she did why was she fucking that cunt Adam the night of her birthday. I saw them with my own eyes, she was enjoying having his cock inside her.” He couldn’t stop the tears no matter how hard he tried.

“That was what she meant by making a mistake, she never wanted to be with Adam. She told me that it was her first time and that she had felt pressured into ‘doing it’ by her friend Chelsea. Chelsea convinced her that she needed to have sex with someone other than the person she wanted to truly be with. She told her that if her first time was with the person she loved then it would be a disaster. She told me just before she died that her biggest regret had been that one night with Adam and losing touch with you. She tried to get in touch with you, for a year she went round to your mum’s to see if she’d heard from you.” She was calmer now, seeing him cry somehow reassured her, she had rarely seen this much emotion from him. In her heart she wanted to believe that he couldn’t possibly have done what was rumoured to have been done to her sister, she knew she would never know the full truth. But a stronger part of her, the part that knew her husband’s deepest soul sensed that he was telling her the truth. And it terrified her. Her hope now was not to antagonise him, she just had to buy herself enough time to seek help.

“She didn’t try hard enough. I would have forgiven her.” He wasn’t talking to her any longer, she wasn’t there now, he was speaking to himself. “Why didn’t she look harder, I could have come back. She didn’t try.” He got up and walked down the hall and up the stairs. It is as if she doesn’t exist any longer. She takes her chance and slowly makes her way out the back door, just her car keys and her phone and the clothes she is wearing. She’s glad that the kids are at her mum’s.

She sat in her car, it was nearly twelve o’clock the day before Christmas Eve. Her Nissan Micra was her pride and joy, it had been a present from her husband. With the key in the ignition she turned it and the engine came to life. She took one last look at the house she thought she had been happy in. Then she drove, for an hour she just drove anywhere, thoughts ran in and out of her head. During the drive she cried and laughed and cried some more. The crying for her sister, had she really spent all of these years with the man responsible for her murder. Her children were the result of her intimacy with a killer.

She wiped her eyes as she pulled up outside the police station, a drab nineteen seventies cinder block building. Apart from the two squad cars parked in the front and a small sign proclaiming ‘Police Station’ this could have been any building. As she sat there a mum with her delinquent teenage son emerged from the double doors. He looked like it would more than likely become his second home in his later years. She let them get far enough away before she got out of her car, she couldn’t believe she was doing this.

Inside the interior was just as drab as the exterior, grey walls, grey floors and an off white ceiling. To her left after she entered was an opaque glass screen with a small brass push bell mounted on a varnished wooden block. Either side of the glass were notice boards with adverts from no win no fee solicitors to victim of crime counsellors. She hesitated before she pressed the bell, behind the glass she could see and hear movement, then the window slowly slid open and a dour elderly man appeared, his stomach stopped him getting too close. “How may I help Miss?” He said, his manner friendly but bored.

“I need to speak to DI Price please.” She said before she had a chance to turn tail and run away.

He looked down his list at staff on duty, “Sorry miss but there isn’t anybody here with that name.”

“There must be, she came to my house yesterday with another man, a DI… god what was his name.. Hales? No…”

“Not DS Jim Swales?”

“That’s it. Is he here?”

“I’ll just give him a call and see if he is available. Can I take your name please.”

“Hayley Thorne.” He could see a brief glimmer of recognition in his eyes, did everyone know who her husband was and what they were alleging he’d done. He made a brief call.

“If you’d like to take a seat and DS Swales and DI Price will be down shortly.” He indicated the three chairs situated against the wall behind her.

She sat in the left hand seat, the window was once more closed and she waited. And she waited. It was twenty minutes before the door beside her finally opened and the two officers she had last seen at her home stepped through. “Hi, Hayley, how can we help?” This was from DI Sian Price.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“Of course, come with us.” They led her down an equally drab corridor and into one of the interview rooms. A table in the middle with two chairs either side. Hayley took one and Sian and Jim took the two opposite.

“What’s this about Hayley, we released your husband a few hours ago.”

“I know, I need you help.”

“Why do you need our help?”

“Because he is guilty of what you are accusing him of.”

“He told you why we bought him in?” Sian looked confused, she didn’t understand why he would tell her that he had killed the only sibling she had. She believed he had told her another story.

“He told me you bought him in to question him about the murder of my sister. He then told me that you had no evidence and never would.”

“That’s partly correct I hate to tell you, but we will get him. I know he did it but without any evidence our hands are tied.” Hayley noticed that although she could see in her eyes a resignation there was still an element of fire left.

“I want to help.” She said.

“Without evidence there is not a lot we can do, so unless you know of anything?”

“He told me he did it, he took great pleasure in it. At first I didn’t believe him, but as he talked I became more and more certain of his guilt.” At this point she broke down, Sian went and stood on her side of the table and put her arm around her shoulder. She felt her body shudder at her touch.

“Do you know of anything that can tie him to your sister’s murder?”

“I don’t know, I thought I knew my husband and if you had asked me a week ago whether he could be a killer it would have been an emphatic ‘no’. What sort of thing would you need?”

“Anything that can put him in the chalet the night she died, I shouldn’t be telling you this as it was kept out of the media. There were items missing from the chalet, we’ve assumed all theses years that they were taken as souvenirs. Adam, the man convicted has always maintained his innocence, and when asked about the missing items denied having them. The items have never been recovered, I now believe that your husband is in possession of them. He may have destroyed them, or he may keep them someplace safe. It is your sister’s underwear, other clothes were recovered from the scene but not her underwear. I am trusting you with this information, it may be the only thing that will convict him. I realise that now you have this information you could warn him and he will never be bought to justice – I believe you don’t want that. If you have any idea where you think it could be then don’t disturb it but let me know and we could be there in fifteen minutes, you don’t want him to know that his secret has been discovered.” Sian got up and went back to her side of the table. “Do you have any idea where he would hide something like that?”

“There are a couple of places. Places he thinks I know nothing about.” She wiped the last of the tears from her eyes, these are going to be the last ones she sheds until the monster she calls her husband is behind bars.

“Here’s my mobile number.” She handed her a business card from the Norfolk constabulary, “if you find anything that we can use, call me. Don’t call 999 – I will get there quicker. They said their farewells and Hayley made her way out and back to her car. Her body felt light almost ethereal, it was like she was living out some plot in a movie. Only this movie was her life.

As she sat in her car a myriad of thoughts descended. How could she continue with this charade of a marriage when she knew what she knew. Her first job was to secure the safety of her daughters. A quick phone call to her mom and it was arranged that she would keep the girls at hers until Christmas, maybe longer. The second and hardest task was to find a way to search the house without tipping off Philip. It was two when she finally pulled her car onto the driveway – Philip’s car was gone.

FIFTY

After he’d gone upstairs he didn’t even notice when his wife left. He went to his wardrobe. It didn’t matter anymore, he tossed the old clothes across the room. The wooden panel he ripped off and that joined the clothes on the other side of the bedroom. Once he had retrieved his treasures he sat on the end of the bed. The manuscript he placed beside him, his focus was the underwear, he knew this was the last time he would be alone with them. He handled them as if they were a valuable piece of art – to him they were priceless. He placed them in the centre of the bed, laid out with precision. The spacing between the bra and knickers the same as they would have been if Amy were wearing them. Satisfied that it was correct his focus turned back to his book. Finding the last page of the last pad he tore it out. With pen in hand he started to write a note for his wife.

Dearest Hayley,

We have been through a lot together, but I bet you never saw this coming, did you? By now you must have realised that I am a monster (I’m not, but it is how you will perceive me and I understand). I would like to assure you that she didn’t suffer.

That night we chatted, we chatted a lot. Well I did, she didn’t really say anything – something to do with the drugs I had given her. I made her listen to all the reasons I was doing what I was doing. To be perfectly honest with you the climax was…what’s the word I am looking for – that’s it anti-climactic. The meal was a disaster to be frank, the sauce was lovely but the meat was extremely chewy, it does sort of prove me right though doesn’t it about her having a tough heart.

I have left you a present on the bed, I have coveted these for many years, I fantasised many times about dressing you in them while I fucked you, but somehow I never believed you to be worthy of wearing them. I have also left you my book, all I ask is that you submit it to the publisher - I have left you the details. Feel free to read it, it may fill in a few blanks for you.

Please don’t think I don’t love you – I do. It was just no one was ever going to replace your sister. I am sure you are sitting there thinking ‘why did you have to kill her?’ Again this is explained in the book, but the short and concise answer is that I could not have watched her being happy with somebody else.

By the time you get back and discover this I will be gone, don’t bother trying to find me and please tell the girls that their dad loves them.

Yours forever

Philip

He folded the piece of paper and wrote her name on the front. He took one last glance at the bed, sad to be leaving his last reminder behind. With the note in his hand and a small holdall with a few clothes he went downstairs. A quick glance into each of the girl’s rooms before he descended the stairs, he was going to miss them. In the kitchen he placed the note on the table propped against the salt and pepper mills. He sat on one of the breakfast bar stools and realised that his wife wasn’t home. His watch told him it was just shy of one o’clock, when did his wife go, he was only talking to her a while ago. He had hoped to hand her the note personally, the fear in her eyes earlier had got him excited and he wanted one last time to see that look again. He felt cheated. Though as he sat there a fun thought entered his head, maybe he would  pop back sometime and give her something to really be scared about. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes he made with her sister, no, he wouldn’t drug her. Sturdy rope would suffice for her, and no mercy kill before the slicing and dicing began. If he came back for his wife it would be solely for fun and not revenge. He could get her to say hello to Amy. Should he wait? No, he wanted to get off. He left the note where it was, she should see it as soon as she got back. When he locked the door he was about to put the keys through the letterbox when he had second thoughts and put them in his bag. He could use them to surprise her if he returned. As much as he had sort of come to love Hayley he didn’t think he was going to miss her. In the early years she had been fun, she was a rebellious teenager. The last few years, well actually since Charlotte had been born she had lost her appeal. He had stayed with her because it had allowed him his little indulgences. Not that there had been many, maybe half a dozen. She had become obsessed with the girls, she fussed over them constantly. At times he had thought about disappearing for a few days to see how long it would take for her to notice that he wasn’t there. He became grateful of her indifference as she never questioned him if he told her he had a work thing and had to go away for a night or two. These were generally the times he used for his ‘Hobby’ as he liked to call it. As much as he was adamant Amy would be the only one, he had found it hard to resist others.

He got in his car and started to drive, he had his destination in mind. A quick glance in the rear view mirror before he turned left at the end of the road. As he drove he wondered how long it would be before Sian caught up with him, he knew she liked the chase, and if nothing else he was a good sport. He was looking forward to a meeting of the minds, without the clues he had left he knew he could be a free man until the day he died. But pride had gotten the better of him, Adam had done his job, it was now time for the rightful genius to take credit for the artistry that was Amy’s murder.

Maybe she would never find him, where he was headed no one knew about. It was remote, Why on earth anyone would think to look for him there was ridiculous. As long as he was careful he may be able to get credit for his crime(s) and keep his liberty. The thought amused him, he would become a legend, Philip Thorne would be mentioned in the same breath as Dahmer and Bundy. His chest swelled with pride at the very idea, if he stayed a free man he would go down in history as the one that got away. Books would be written about him, police men and women would be given his case file to see his brilliance at eluding them. He turned the radio up as Mariah Carey started to sing ‘All I want for Christmas’, his favourite Christmas song. It was a couple of hours before he hit the motorway, just a couple of things to take care of first. The traffic was light as he joined the M25, and stayed that way up until he reached the toll bridge over the river Severn. The queue in front of him moved slowly, it was as if the heavens were telling him that he would have to be patient, that his new life would come eventually.

He hadn’t called Catherine to tell her he was on his way and whether it would be alright if he stayed until he got himself sorted. He knew she wouldn’t have a problem with it. It had been a good few years since he’d seen her, but he wrote to her at regular intervals. He’d never mentioned her to Hayley, some things he liked to keep just for himself. Besides, he’d often thought he may need a refuge someday and he could think of no better place to be holed up than the remote village she lived in. He liked the idea of the simple life she lived.

Like the rest of his life he had planned this day meticulously, he knew there were many ways to trace him. His phone he left behind, his car he drove to a few streets away. When he”d locked it he placed the keys on top of the offside front wheel, carrying his hold-all with all his worldly possessions in he walked, it was about five miles until he reached his destination. His thick coat kept him warm against the bitterly north easterly wind. As he walked through the council estate it was a veritable hive of activity, even this cold kids played in the street, a couple of old guys chatted over a garden fence. He walked confidently avoiding eye contact with anyone, at the far end of the estate was a block of garages. Two rows faced each other, twenty either side, many of the metal doors dented and covered in flaked paint. A couple with their doors permanently raised, makeshift bedding in some. He walked to the last but one on the left, the door no better cared for than the others, he hadn’t wanted it to stand out. He’d rented this garage for the better part of fifteen years, he rented it from a resident of the estate as they were the only ones eligible. He paid cash yearly and the guy said nothing – the terms of his lease didn’t allow sub letting. He undid the padlock and tossed it onto the grass verge, he wouldn’t be returning so there was no need to lock it. Inside was a car, it had been changed three times since he’d had the garage. It had started off as a blue Ford Escort, then went to a Vauxhall Astra, then a few years back he’d changed it to the car that sat before him. A Renault Megane in graphite grey, it was about ten years old, he came here once a month to take it for a short drive to keep it in good running condition. He’d paid a small independent garage cash for it, once he’d had it twelve months he declared the.vehicle as destroyed or whatever the DVLA liked to call it. So as far as anyone was concerned the car no longer existed. He only had to drive it to his destination where he would find another lock up to hide it until it was needed again.

It was early evening when he finally arrived, just as he’d thought Catherine was thrilled to see him, and even more thrilled when she knew he wanted to stay. They chatted long into the night, things couldn’t have gone better if he’d planned it. It appeared that she rarely saw either of her sons, one was three years ago and the other eighteen months. She also had a lock up where she told him he could store the car. He’d explained to her that he wanted to get away from relying on motorised transportation and wanted to get a bicycle. He knew she would lap up the fact that he wanted to go green. Things looked good for his continued freedom.

EPILOGUE

And so he began…

Welcome my loyal readers, yes I’m back. You will remember that I told you previously that I had left things out of my original book; well I am here now to fill in the blanks. Not just blanks but also subsequent indiscretions, I truly believed that once I had dealt with my feelings for Amy that it would be the end of that side of me. I was wrong. I suppressed the urge for many years, in fact it lasted until my wife was pregnant with our second daughter. She became distracted with her pregnancy and the other young mums she hung about with and I needed to fulfil my desires in the best way I knew how. There weren’t many and the satisfaction was never as gratifying as my Amy. But in the spirit of full disclosure I won’t spare any details.

In the coming pages I will disclose details of all seven women I killed. I will tell you my faithful reader where the metaphorical bodies are buried. I will also let you in on the cat and mouse game I have secretly been playing with my old colleague DI Sian Price. She doesn’t know she has been playing but in the pages that follow many puzzles that have given her sleepless nights will be revealed.

I will admit I made mistakes along the way, but to my advantage they were all too dumb to spot them. With the exception of the final one – though that I may have got away with it had it been a lesser investigator. But to give credit where credit was due DI Sian Price has been a worthy adversary. That one last mistake was stupidity and I chastise myself everyday for it, I’d managed to carry on with my life for the better part of nine months. I was enjoying a new sense of freedom, living off the land, a simple existence. And I could have lived like that for the next twenty years.

I was unaware of what they knew while I turned the soil that day. It was a little after eleven, I’d been up since five-thirty, it was a routine I was used to. The chicken coups were always my first task, collecting the eggs and cleaning out the chicken shit. Then seven thirty we usually met at the old wooden kitchen table for a pot of tea, the same everyday, the pot would be sat on the Rayburn stove waiting. By eight I would be feeding the animals, the pigs could certainly eat, and the chickens were like mad things when you held a bag of feed near their troughs. At eight thirty I liked to take a walk over the back fence, up the steep bank to the unused railway line. I would sit on the rail, feet planted firmly between the sleepers, the smell of oil still pungent in the air. With the packet of cigarettes I would shake one out and light it. The view was amazing looking back at the house. The one and a half acre garden with all of its neat vegetable beds. Nothing was allowed to be grown unless it had a purpose. No flowers. The upkeep was a full time job for both of us, I took the heavy work due to her advancing years, but the effort was worth it. I generally sat there and had two cigarettes while watching the world go by. Sometimes I sat there and contemplated my life, I missed my hobby. I’d thought about writing the second book but it might prompt questions I would be unwise to answer. I had yet to see any sign of the first book being published.

At nine o’clock I liked to do the heaviest job of the day, sometimes that would be chopping logs, this day it happened to be digging over a couple of the large beds in preparation of planting. I had almost finished the first one, my back was beginning to feel the strain when two figures started to make their way along the old cobblestoned path which led to where I was. I could have run, but why? I recognised Sian instantly, the guy next to her meant nothing to me. From previous experience I guessed that he would be the local plod. As it turned out he was a bit of a prat, and I was glad that it was her that cuffed me that day. I don’t recall much of those few minutes, it was surreal. I had imagined that moment a thousand times since the morning I ‘discovered’ Amy’s body, and to be perfectly honest it had never been that boring. She walked up to me and without a ‘hello’ or anything started reading me my rights while pulling my hands behind my back and placing the cuffs on them.

He looked across at the opposite cell, the irony not lost on him that his first book was written in that very spot. It was about a year ago that he sat at that desk, his pad at the ready, and started his novel ‘Velvet Heart’ as a free man. He knew the day would always come when he would pay for his actions. And that time was now. When the inevitable became apparent he had hoped beyond all hope the this would be where he would end up – amongst friends.

“It’s good to have you back Pinky.” Chef said.

“I’ve come home Chef, now to tell the rest of my story. And they thought the first one was explosive.”

The End