Nothing but Meat: A dark, heart-stopping British crime thriller Page 14

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

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

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

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

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

  Yes

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

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

  ‘They’re here,’ he said.

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

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

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

  Yes!

  ‘I’m taking you home,’ said Jung.

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

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

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

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

  ‘I can’t do that.’

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

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

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

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

  ‘Of course.’

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

  ‘Do you want another?’ she offered.

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

  ‘Tell me about it.’

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

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

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

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

  ‘Okay. Thanks Jung.’

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

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

  The Origin of the Tooth:

  Part 3

  An Angel with Broken Wings - 1988

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nothing?’

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

  The man shrugged. ‘What’s your name?’

  The boy hesitated, obviously reluctant to say.

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

  ‘What’s that accent you have?

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘It sounds…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘German?’

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

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

  ‘Bärli?’

  The boy nodded.

  ‘It means little bear.’