Page 56 of One Left Alive
‘He’s dead. There’s blood everywhere. Jesus, I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.’
He landed heavily as he sat down onto the stone steps, his face between his hands. Laura didn’t know what to do, so she patted his back.
Susan came running out of the post office, her phone pushed against her ear.
‘I don’t know, hang on.’
She looked at her husband, then spoke to Laura.
‘Is the casualty conscious and breathing?’
‘We don’t think so. There’s a lot of blood.’
‘No, probably not, there’s blood all over. Right, well I’m not a doctor, am I? Please hurry.’
She ended the call and looked at them both. ‘Jesus, what a way to start your day. Police and ambulance are on their way.’
Laura sat next to Mr Riley; there was nothing any of them could do now except wait for help to arrive.
Thirty-Seven
Morgan had brewed a cup of tea before bed and used some of the mixed herbs that Ettie had given her. She’d still woken at 04.25a.m., but felt unusually rested, almost like she could go back to sleep. Before she’d left for work, she’d been tempted to bag some up and ask Wendy to take a look at them. Sniffing the bag, it hadn’t smelt like cannabis, but she didn’t want to turn up to work high.
She took her large latte and bagel into the small office which was now hers and flicked all the lights on. Today she would hopefully get to grips with this case. Sipping her coffee, she began to read through the case notes. The list of possible suspects was small to say the least. A small, black MG sports car had been seen leaving the O’Briens’ house earlier on the day of the murders. Police enquiries had been unable to trace it or the owner. As she read down the list of witness statements, her eyes fixed on the name Stanley Brookes – gardener. Underneath it was a comment that his alibi had been corroborated, and she released the breath she’d been holding. As horrible as he was, she couldn’t see him as a killer. What would he have to gain from killing the people who bothered to employ him? There was no motive; it wouldn’t make sense.
Her finger stopped on the last name on the list; she knew that name, not the person, but she’d heard of him. Gregory Barker was the local mayor. He’d known the O’Briens quite well according to this, and she was sure his name had also come up in connection with the Potters. He must be the Gary or Greg that Harrison had told her about. He was definitely someone she wanted to talk to. Typing his name into the intelligence system, she waited to see if there were any hits. He was on there but only as a victim of a burglary. Scribbling down his address, she decided to catch him early.
Grabbing her coffee and bag, she headed out of the door.
‘Morgan, are you busy?’
Turning, she saw Ben and Amy walking out of the CID office, both wearing coats.
‘Just off out to do some enquiries.’
‘Can they wait? They’ve found a body at theCumbrian Newsoffices.’
She nodded and followed them out to the car park, getting in the back seat of the unmarked car.
Amy got into the driver’s seat.
‘How many bodies can we have in a week, boss? This is getting out of hand.’
Ben was staring out of the window. ‘The world’s gone mad. At this rate we’re going to put tourists off coming here for life.’
Morgan didn’t speak. She wasn’t sure if she had quite expected to be exposed to so many dead people in one go. In some ways it was what she’d always dreamed of, yet it was quite unsettling. Seeing people who’d been murdered in reality was a lot more shocking than it ever looked on the Netflix documentaries she binge-watched on her days off.
They reached the main street, which had been cordoned off at each end with police tape, a PCSO guarding the entrance. Amy parked up and they got out. When they were suited and ready to assess the scene, they signed themselves into the scene guard book the PCSO was holding. Morgan hadn’t known whether she was to go in or not and had hung back. Ben, who’d been talking on his phone the whole time, ducked under the tape. Realising she wasn’t with them, he pointed to the boot of the car and she realised he was telling her to put protective clothing on.
As she dressed, she could hear loud sobs coming from the post office doorway. Turning to look, she saw a woman watching them and crying into a tissue. Dan was standing next to her, but she realised that he wasn’t paying the sobbing woman any attention because he was too busy glaring at her. Trying not to, but unable to control it, her cheeks flushed red. How had they gone from colleagues to him hating her this much? As much as she disliked him, she didn’t hate him, but there was no mistaking the anger etched across his face.
Turning away from him, she signed herself into the scene and followed Ben’s footsteps. The whole street was eerily quiet considering it was mid-morning and usually a bustling hive of activity. There were plenty of people pretending not to be watching from shop doorways and windows when in reality they were.
Ben and Amy were already at the entrance to the building which housed theCumbrian News. The door was ajar. Parked outside, on the double-yellow lines, was the blue BMW that had been parked outside the Potters’ drive the other day. Morgan crossed towards it, looking inside to see if the keys were still in the ignition. She didn’t think that the three of them needed to go in there. For some strange reason her pulse was racing, yet she had no idea why and wondered if it was the fear of the unknown. Of not knowing what she was going to find behind that door. Neither Ben nor Amy stepped through the door, just peered into the gap in turn.
She heard a whistle and turned to see Ben waving her over. Her feet betraying her feelings, she trudged towards the steps where he was waiting for her at a snail’s pace. If he noticed her reluctance he didn’t comment.
‘Did you just whistle at me like I was a dog?’
