Page 17 of Gone in the Night
Beth’s legs seemed to give way, and she slumped onto the leather desk chair next to her.
Stefan looked as dazed as Beth did. ‘How do you know it’s Sharon?’
Morgan looked down at her notebook then read out the registration number of the purple Land Rover. ‘Sharon’s driving licence was under her pillow. I also checked her Instagram account.’
Beth looked up at Stefan, her eyes wide and brimming with tears that were about to fall. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
‘How did she die, assuming this woman is our daughter?’
Morgan wished she hadn’t told Cain to keep quiet now. As if sensing her distress, he softly pushed his knee into hers then said, ‘I’m afraid she was murdered.’ He paused, letting the information sink in.
Stefan was shaking his head. ‘No, sorry. This is just not possible. Why would someone murder her? Are you sure you have the right woman? Show me a picture, please, and we can tell you if you’ve made a mistake. I mean it happens all the time, doesn’t it? I’m not saying you’re both incompetent, but mistakes do get made like this.’
Morgan agreed. ‘Yes, on the rare occasion they do. Which is why we would like one or both of you to go to the mortuary to identify the woman we believe is Sharon. I’m so, so, sorry.’
‘Why can’t you show us a photo of her face now?’
Beth stood up and almost snarled at him. ‘Because it must be too bad, that’s why. How did she die? What did they do to her?’
‘It was violent. She was stabbed multiple times.’
Beth let out a sob, this time bending over double as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. Stefan carried on shaking his head. Morgan looked at Cain, then back at the Montgomerys.
‘I’m sorry. Are you able to come to the mortuary with us, now?’
The only sound in the room was Beth’s gentle sobs. She managed to whisper, ‘Yes.’
‘I’ll let them know you’re on the way,’ Morgan said.
Cain excused himself and went outside to phone the mortuary, to tell them they were setting off. Morgan thought that the Montgomerys had every reason to hope and pray that they’d got it wrong, that they hadn’t come to tell them the most terrible news of their lives.
There was a small niggle of doubt about them though. Were they as happy as they made out? Almost everyone had secrets, and she wondered if they did too.
TWELVE
The silence was golden, as the saying went. He was enjoying the alone time before it was broken. He let out a huge yawn. He’d stayed up far too late last night and had walked for miles, but oh how it had been worth it. Too wary to use a torch, he’d had to walk the paths that led to the campsite relying on the little light from the crescent moon.
It had been a relief the sky wasn’t cloudy; he’d even managed to catch a glimpse of the aurora borealis when an alert had flashed up on his phone. He’d taken out his phone, put it onto night mode and spent five minutes staring at the muted colours of purple, pink and green through the camera on the screen. He had been tempted to snap a couple of pictures, but he knew that was stupid. If the police ever caught him, the first thing they would do is take his phone and send it off to get everything scrutinised. If there were photos of the aura in this location, with a date and time stamp on them, he would be screwed. It would literally be game over without even a confession, because he had no legitimate reason to be out here except…he could state he was chasing the aurora; it could also work in his defence, he realised.
It was quite something standing on the little uneven path, alone, at midnight watching the night sky putting on a show of utter beauty. He wondered how many people got to die under the beauty of the Northern Lights; it was a pity he’d never be able to talk about it. It was even sadder that the woman would never know. When he’d finally reached the campsite she was staying at, and she had taken her last breath, he’d wondered: would her soul see them when it left her body?
He smiled to himself, so many questions that he’d never be able to answer, and unless he could find an authentic psychic medium to ask her, it was impossible.
He’d reached the campsite an hour later than he’d liked. It had been further than he’d anticipated, but thankfully there were only two cars parked up. One with a tent was parked some way down the fell, a good distance from the car with the roof tent he was after. He was going to need to be quick, not to mention silent. The element of surprise was going to be difficult with this one because if her dog started to bark it would wake everyone up.
Taking the plastic sandwich bag of sausages out of his pocket, he unzipped it, wafting it outside of the roof tent. He heard the dog stirring, snuffling about, and carefully standing on the bottom rung of the ladder, he reached up and unzipped the tent enough to let the dog out. A wet nose poked out through the gap as he wafted a sausage in front of it. He was holding his breath, more than a little nervous. He was aware that this could all go horribly wrong at any moment. If the dog began to bark, he’d have to leg it out of there. He held the sausage out, and the dog took a bite. Then it pushed itself out of the gap in the zip, and he swiftly grabbed it with both hands, dropping the sausages. He put the dog down and it completely ignored him as it began to eat the chopped-up sausage and dog treats he’d thrown on the ground.
The dog taken care of, he’d withdrawn the knife in his belt and slid it from the sheath. From inside the tent, he heard the woman murmur and some movement as she turned over. He didn’t hesitate. He unzipped the opening more fully and leaned in and drew the knife across her throat. It was dark inside of the tent, and he couldn’t see what was going on, but he felt the warm blood as it sprayed over his gloved hands and heard a wet gurgling sound that came from her mouth. Her eyes had flown wide open, but the cut was a good one; he had cut deep and had severed the jugular. She was bleeding out and didn’t even know what had happened to her.
The dog was sniffing around on the ground completely oblivious.
A full body shiver of delight ran through his veins, and he smiled to himself.
He was clever enough to know that if he went on to do more killing, he might not be so lucky and could lose the anonymity he currently had. He also thought that by mixing up the MOs in the next one it could cause the police to go into a serious meltdown of confusion.
Pushing the knife back into the sheath, he tucked it back into his belt. His gloves were bloody, but he tugged the zip back up before he ripped them off and stuffed those into his pocket. Looking around, he watched the tent at the far side of the site; but there was no sound or movement. Finally, he looked down at the dog that was staring up at him with huge eyes, waiting for more treats.
He shrugged, bent down to rub behind its ears and whispered, ‘Sorry, bud, got nothing left.’ Then straightened up and hurried back the way he’d come, leaving the dog staring after him.
