Page 54 of The Girl in the Grave
‘No, got no reason to. It’s off limits until the friends of the cemetery and the council stop arguing over who can repair and maintain it.’
‘Well someone has been down here and recently.’ Josh could see the crumbling, leaning row of crypts a short distance in front of him and began to run towards them, shouting, ‘Beth, Beth, are you there?’ As he got closer the stench of decomposition filled the air, and he heard Barry gag behind him.
‘What is that smell?’
‘Barry, I need you to stay there. Don’t come any closer.’
He let out a groan so loud it echoed around them. ‘This is my fault; I didn’t even think about the mausoleums. I’m so sorry.’
Josh turned to look at the man, who was visibly trembling and on the verge of tears.
‘No, this isn’t your fault. If it wasn’t for you we wouldn’t be here right now, this is the fault of whoever decided to do this.’
He knew that Barry would forever lay the blame on himself. Just as Josh would lay the blame at his own door. They had been so close; he didn’t understand why he didn’t know about this place. He was going to find Annie Potts, and not the way he’d wanted to. He’d hoped she’d be alive but, judging by the strong smell and the buzzing of flies, it wasn’t going to be the case. His knees threatened to sag under his weight he felt so deflated; for once he’d have liked to have made the difference, to have beaten this sick bastard at his own game and saved Annie before it came to this. Unless there was someone else? It couldn’t be Beth, could it? No, of course not. It had been less than an hour since he’d rushed to her house. Even if she’d been killed straight away it wouldn’t smell like this. He looked at the row of oak doors, watching to see which one the bluebottles were flying in and out of. It didn’t take long before a fat fly buzzed its way through the narrow slit in the door at the far end. He radioed the control room.
‘How long before patrols arrive?’
A voice shouted up. ‘Fifteen minutes, we’re stuck in traffic. Even with the blues on there’s nowhere to go. The roads are gridlocked because of the roadworks.’
Josh swore; he couldn’t wait. Beth could be in there and need medical assistance, so he ran towards the door. The smell was almost overpowering; he’d smelled it many times before: the cloying smell of death which clung to every pore and shred of material you wore, catching in the back of your throat. Reaching out with a gloved hand, he pushed the door. It didn’t move. It was stuck. He turned and waved Barry over.
‘Can you help me shove it open?’
To give the man his dues, he ran over and placed his hands on the door next to Josh, and between the pair of them they shoved it hard and it creaked open. He didn’t have a torch on him, and it took a couple of seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the small stone crypt.
‘Beth,’ he called out. Turning the torch function on his phone, he shone it around. She wasn’t here. He felt his heart sink. He’d really thought he was going to find her. There were five more to check, though, so it wasn’t completely hopeless. Inside there was a stone tomb in the middle of the floor, and on a shelf along the back wall were the skeletal remains of who he assumed had once resided inside the tomb. They were old, there wasn’t a scrap of body tissue on them. The heavy lid of the tomb didn’t sit quite right; there were fresh marks in the stone where it had been moved. In the light it looked as if it was moving, but he realised it was the flies that were angrily buzzing and crawling all over it trying to find a way in.
He stepped towards the tomb, waving his arms around and clapping. The flies took off in a cloud of blackness and flew out of the door; several hangers-on stayed put, buzzing around the confined space. He put his phone down and bent to push the lid to one side. The smell was unbearable. Barry rushed over to help him and between the pair of them they managed to push it off enough for Josh to shine the light inside it. Picking up his phone, he hadn’t realised just how much his hands were shaking until he shone it through the gap.
Barry let out a gasp next to him. The glassy, dead eyes staring up at them were indeed those of his missing girl. There was a length of material around Annie Potts’s mouth which wouldn’t have made it any easier to breathe. Josh felt a wave of sorrow wash over his entire body; he was too late. He could hear sirens in the distance. Glancing back down into the tomb, he watched as a bluebottle landed on Annie’s nose and began to bury itself inside her nostril. This was too much for Barry, who began to vomit into his hands. He turned and ran outside, falling onto his knees, and spewed hot vomit into the long grass. Josh followed him, the horror almost too much to bear. He’d let her down. Screwed up and now Annie was dead.
So where was Beth?
Seventy-Five
Beth could feel the gentle sway as her body moved slightly. She was on water, on a boat, it seemed. How had she got here? Then she felt the tight band of material inside her mouth cutting into the soft flesh of her cheeks. It all came flooding back to her. The physical pain of betrayal felt like her heart had torn in two. She’d trusted him more than anyone, put her faith in him. Why was he doing this to her and why did he kill the other girl? She tried to move her hands and feet: it was no good – they were tied up tight. Stifling a sob, she knew that crying wasn’t going to help her. She wondered if Josh had got her message. She had no idea what time it was, as it was dark in the cramped space she’d been thrown into. There wasn’t much room to move, even though her knees were slightly bent; if she turned her face to the left or right it was practically touching cold metal. The bastard had used chloroform to render her unconscious. The distinct smell was like no other. He’d known she’d fight him. She guessed that was why he’d chosen to knock her out with chemicals.
As she lay there in the dark she felt more hopeless than she had in years. When Robert had attacked her there had been no time to think about it. It had been a fight to survive, not like this. She was helpless, unable to do a single thing. Her only hope now was in Josh figuring it all out and rushing to save her like he did the last time. He’d been her knight in shining armour once upon a time. A tear rolled down her cheek but she didn’t realise she was crying until it was closely followed by another.
The boat lurched as she heard heavy footsteps on the deck above her. What was he doing? Was it his boat? She tried to scream, but the muffled sounds were pathetic. No one was ever going to hear her over the noise of the engine and the sound of the boat as it sped through the water. Life was cruel, she knew that. Her job as a forensic pathologist had taught her just how cruel it could be – innocent children dying from cancer they had no right to suffer from; teenagers who decided life was too hard and killed themselves before it had even begun. What had made her become such a victim? Why was she so appealing to killers? She was a good person. Panic filled her lungs and she began to thrash around, trying to make as much noise as possible. A loud thud directly above her and then the hatch was lifted. She stopped moving as his huge outline towered over her and made her realise just how futile her attempts were. He could reach in and snap her neck before she could blink if he wanted to.
‘Shut the fuck up, no one can hear you. No one is coming to rescue you, so I suggest you lie there and behave yourself.’
The hatch was slammed back down, and she welcomed the darkness. It was far better to be alone in the dark than have to face him. She tried to concentrate on her breath, to slow everything down. There was a thudding in her head far worse than any headache she’d ever suffered. Closing her eyes, she felt an overwhelming sense of tiredness take over.
Maybe she’d wake up to find this was all a bad dream. Or maybe she’d drift off into a world of darkness, where she would know nothing, there would be no pain, no worry and no fear.
Or maybe Josh would find her. And if he did, she would tell him how much she loved him. No more wasting time or precious years of her life.
Seventy-Six
Josh’s phone rang again and again. He sat in the long grass and reached into his pocket to answer it.
It was a voice he’d never heard before.
‘Is this Detective Sergeant Josh Walker?’
‘Speaking.’
