Page 28 of The Girl in the Grave
The grounds were beautiful, lush green lawns surrounded by rich evergreen plants and shrubs. The house had clearly been a private residence at some point before it had been turned into a funeral home. They drove along the gravel drive until they reached the front of the house where there were several empty parking bays. Getting out, Sam didn’t lock the doors and left the keys in the ignition should Josh need to make an emergency getaway. Without looking back, she set off for the marble steps that led to the front entrance.
Forty-One
Once Sam had entered the building, Josh tried to open the car door, and swore: the bloody child locks were on. Great for keeping suspects inside the car, not so good when you’re trying to be discreet. Climbing through into the front seat he managed to extract himself out of the passenger side door. He looked around; the place seemed deserted. Surely it wouldn’t hurt for him to have a little peek. He headed towards the rear of the building where they must have a back entrance for bringing the bodies in and out. Staying close to the walls, he reached the end of the brickwork and turned the corner.Bingo.Parked around the back was a silver van with blacked-out windows with the words ‘Private Ambulance’ emblazoned across the side. This was the vehicle they used to transport bodies from the hospital or wherever they may have died. There was a double garage with a huge door attached to the house. He pressed his ear to it. Squeezing his eyes shut he concentrated as hard as he could, but he couldn’t hear a thing.
He did the same at the back door, pulling his sleeve down over his hand to push gently on the handle. It didn’t move. The whole place was locked up tight. He looked around. Behind the house, a good distance away, were more garages and sheds. He jogged over to find the main doors were locked, but the side door opened inwards. For a moment he wondered if he should leave it be, go back to the car and wait for Sam. But he couldn’t do it; he needed to have a quick look inside.
Squeezing through the gap, he stepped inside and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark interior. There were a variety of hearses, limousines, and the strong smell of petrol filled his nostrils. A row of different sized coffins was lined up against the back wall. He stared at them and shuddered. Christ, he thought his job was bad, but he only dealt with death occasionally. He crossed over to the coffins and noted that most of them had lids propped against them but not screwed down. One by one he checked them, his heart in his throat. They were empty.
When he heard voices in the distance, he realised he was pushing his luck staying here so long. Going back to the side door, he couldn’t see anyone and slipped back outside, running quickly and quietly around to the side of the house in time to see the front door closing. Sam was sitting in the driver’s seat of the car with her phone pressed to her ear. He felt his own begin to vibrate in his pocket. Lifting it to his ear he whispered: ‘What?’
‘Get back here now before you get caught, that’s what.’
He ended the call and ran around the front of the building, before pausing to check with Sam. She nodded her head and waved him on. Running the rest of the way to the car, he threw open the passenger door and got inside as Sam drove off as fast as she dared without drawing any attention to them.
‘Where the hell were you?’
‘Checking out the garages; they had coffins of every shape and size back there.’
‘It’s a funeral home, they’re supposed to. Any sign of Annie?’
‘No, what did he say when you asked him about Jason Thompson?’
‘Not a lot. Said he knew who he was, had spoken to him on several occasions but didn’t really know him. Said he dealt with Barry more than him, thinks he seems like a nice lad.’
‘What did you think about him?’
‘Harry Dean seemed like a genuinely nice bloke. I can understand how families must feel reassured dealing with someone like that.’
‘He didn’t come across as a raving, homicidal maniac then?’
‘Obviously not, boss.’
‘Shame. Come on, drive me back to the station. I need to go through everything we have and see if we can get a warrant to come back and do a proper search of the main house.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know, it’s just a gut feeling that something isn’t right. We’re looking for someone who has no qualms about putting a woman in a box until the air runs out and she dies. It takes a special kind of psychopath to be able to do that, don’t you think?’
‘Well, yes it must. But it doesn’t mean it’s an undertaker, does it?’
‘For Christ’s sake, I’d rather look an idiot and be wrong than be too afraid to make the call and be right. At this moment in time I don’t have any other viable suspects with the means and ability to deal with death and bodies so… so casually.’
They drove the rest of the way back in silence. As Sam pulled up outside the front of the station, Josh turned to look at her.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I’m tired, hungry and pissed off that we have no idea where she might be. Thank you for everything you’ve done today, I do appreciate your help.’
She rolled her eyes at him. ‘Apology accepted. Let’s go order some food, have a bit of a breather for ten mins and see what we can come up with. Hopefully the cameras on the main roads will have picked something up – like a number plate or a clear image of the bastard.’
Forty-Two
He’d noticed the police from a distance, despite them driving an unmarked police car. The man in the crumpled suit was looking considerably more stressed than the woman with him. Did that mean he was in charge? He liked that, relished the fact that his actions were causing so many strangers to have a bad day. Picking up the bunch of wilting roses he’d plucked from the bargain bucket outside Pretty Flowers, and tucking the local daily paper under his arm, he strolled up the hill towards the chapel, although not too near it. He’d read about too many killers who’d been so wrapped up in what they’d done, they’d revisited the scene of the crime and got caught. Fools, all of them. As if the police hadn’t cottoned on to his idea by now. Ever since they’d made the discovery of the girl in the grave there had been a white car parked up by the empty grave, watching and waiting to see who turned up. He chose a grave that was a bit unloved and bent to lay his flowers down. A flurry of excitement mingled with fear filled his veins as he pulled weeds away from the gravestone. He began to arrange the stems of flowers in a cracked vase; they were crooked and far too long, but it didn’t matter. The two detectives were walking towards him with a man wearing a high vis jacket and a spade slung over his shoulder. He lifted a hand in polite greeting and the gravedigger nodded back. Lowering his face and pulling the peak of his baseball cap down, he quickly stared back down at the grave in front of him; he didn’t want any of them to look too closely at him.
He didn’t know if she was dead yet; he hoped that she was because it would make his life a lot easier. Physically killing his victims left too much trace evidence behind and forensics were a lot more advanced now than they’d been when he’d been a teenager. He’d sweated beneath paper overalls and three pairs of rubber gloves when he’d put the girl into that grave. It was risky to do it himself, but he had to admit that the excitement had outweighed the danger. Creating puzzles for the police sent a thrill through his body like no other.
Straightening up now the weeds had been cleared and the roses propped against the headstone, he could hear voices as the group approached. Slipping on to a bench near to the grave he’d been tending, he pressed his hands tightly together and shut his eyes. They might glance across at him but they wouldn’t speak. You didn’t intrude on a person’s conversations with God, even if they were about murder. His steepled fingers pressed against his lips, covering the smile which had formed upon them.
Forty-Three
