Page 56 of Dying Breath
Mattie gave him the finger. He leant forwards, pressing his ear against the door. There were no noises whatsoever coming from inside.
‘No one’s home. Now what do we do?’
‘We wait for him to come back.’
They returned to the car, where Mattie phoned Lucy to tell her the bad news.
* * *
Lucy arrived at the address they had on file for Jenny Burns, not really expecting her parents to still live there after so long. If the officer on scene guard at the woods had taken his details when she’d asked him to it could have saved them precious time. She opened the rusted gate and walked up the overgrown path. She was about to knock on the door when her phone rang.
Catherine Maxwell’s voice echoed in her ear. ‘We have a positive ID on the body from the woods.’
Lucy stepped back from the front door and whispered, ‘Is it Jenny Burns, by any chance?’
‘Yes, how did you know?’
‘Chris said it was a female aged between twelve and twenty – it’s not exactly rocket science. There were no other females of that age reported missing around that time.’
‘At least she can have a proper funeral now and her family will get the chance to say goodbye. Does she still have family?’
‘Yes, her dad turned up at the scene demanding to know if we’d found his daughter. Twenty-six years he’s been wondering what the hell happened to his girl.’
‘That’s a long time to nurse a broken heart. At least you can give him some answers now, Lucy. Good luck.’
She ended the call and walked back towards the front door, when it suddenly opened. The man from the woods seemed older than she remembered. He took one look at her and his shoulders sagged, along with his head. His eyes glistened and his voice broke as he tried to speak. Lucy stepped forward with a heavy heart, nodding her head. He crumpled before her eyes and she stepped inside the doorway to his house, which smelt of lavender furniture polish. She wrapped her arms around him and held him while he sobbed into her shoulder.
They stayed that way for a few minutes until he let go of her and tottered backwards. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he stepped to one side to let her in. She closed the front door behind her and followed him into the kitchen, where he pointed to a pine chair. She pulled it out and sat down; he slumped into a seat opposite her.
‘All this time. She’s been there all this time.’
‘I’m so sorry. We’ve only just had positive confirmation from the forensic odontologist that it’s Jenny.’
‘I walked those woods every day – how did I not know my baby girl was lying dead? She was there the whole time underneath my feet, in a grave.’
‘You weren’t to know, Mr Burns; it’s such a huge area. Searching techniques weren’t as advanced when Jenny went missing compared to now.’
He shook his head. ‘Some bastard took my girl. They hurt her and then they put her in a hole in the ground like she was someone’s dead dog.’
‘I know you’ve been asked questions many times before, but not by me. I want to find your daughter’s killer and believe me when I say that I will. I won’t stop until I have whoever it is behind bars.’
He looked at her, really studying her face for several moments. Then he nodded his head. ‘I believe you.’
‘Good, you should. Now can you tell me again exactly what happened that day?’
Chapter Fifty-One
He wasn’t sure what to do now; things were coming to a head and he felt a little bit hot under the collar. It was only a matter of hours before the police came looking for him. He was sure of it. Driving back towards his house, he realised that it was now or never. He had to kill Waite, put him in the drum full of acid, then get the hell out of town. There was no way he was making it easy for Lucy and letting her catch him; he’d decided that he liked his freedom far too much. He wasn’t cut out to live a life behind bars, having to look over his shoulder every minute of every day, afraid to bend over every time he needed a shower. No way, it wasn’t happening.
He wasn’t going to kill himself, either; that wasn’t even a possibility. There was no way he would end his own life. His back-up plan was to get as far away from here as possible and leave them all running around wondering what on earth had just happened. It didn’t matter if they searched the country far and wide for him; he had a place to go and a false identity all ready. He would shave his hair, use the coloured contact lenses he bought ages ago, and dress down. He parked on the street and walked up his drive; he didn’t want to alert the druggie that he was home. That was if he hadn’t already done a runner and stolen what little he had out on show. Somehow he didn’t think that he would have left, though; it was far too comfortable in his house with its hot running water, plentiful food and alcohol.
He let himself in and kicked off his shoes – he needed to change. He couldn’t kill in this suit; it wouldn’t allow him any room for movement. He went upstairs where he listened at the guest room door; the television was on and MTV was playing. This was a good sign. Going into the spare room where he kept the clothes for all his murders, he began to get changed. The carpet in here was relatively new so he had thought twice about ripping it out and going back to bare floorboards, as he’d done for the rest of the house.
Once he had on his tight Lycra running leggings and top, he went downstairs to the garage, lifting the door open so the fumes wouldn’t overpower him. Stepping into a pair of protective overalls, he tied a scarf around his mouth and nose. Then, pulling on a pair of heavy-duty gloves, he tugged the lid off the drum. He unscrewed the lid of the plastic container of acid, picked it up and carefully tipped it over the edge of the drum. It began to glug as he poured it slowly into the metal container. He looked at the stack of plastic acid containers lined up behind him – this wasn’t what he’d expected to do but he had little choice now. His hand had been forced; he had to have it all ready.
* * *
Lucy placed the mug of sweet tea in front of Jenny’s dad, Malcolm, who’d insisted that she call him Mal. She sat back down and waited for him to take a few sips before continuing with her questions. There was no rush; her phone hadn’t rung or beeped with any messages from Mattie or Browning. For now they were safe, sitting tight watching Toby’s house.
