Abandoned (12 page)

‘Hey, I was wondering what time you would be home, mister?’ Rebecca said to her now weary- looking husband. ‘I’ve been trying to call you for ages and got nothing but voicemail.’

‘Sorry Hun,’ he replied. ‘I got held up with call outs and forgot to charge my phone this morning so the battery has died.’

‘That’s ok, I just wanted to know what time you would be home for dinner. Yours is in the microwave as we started without you when I couldn’t reach you.’

‘Thanks, I’ll have it once I’ve showered and changed.’

He made his way down the hall and towards the bedroom to get out of his clothes. Eager to remove any scent that might linger on him from the girl, he stepped into the en-suite shower, feeling the hot water slamming into his aching body.

‘Does that feel better?’ Rebecca asked him, as he made his way back towards the kitchen in his dressing gown and slippers.

‘Yes thanks,’ came his reply; as he was too tired to engage in any kind of meaningful conversation.

Rebecca, sensing his lethargy, instructed her husband to take a seat while she brought him his dinner. Charles didn’t need any further encouragement and made his way towards the sofa in the warm, cosy sitting room. He instantly put on the news channel on the television, checking to see if there was already any news on the missing girl from Penrith. There was nothing as of yet, and Charles seemed to become agitated, as he secretly wanted to revel in his twisted delusional brilliance. He knew it would just be a matter of time though before the media try and locate the girl once they realised she wouldn’t be turning up at home.

He quickly changed the channel as Rebecca brought his dinner through to where he was sitting, accompanied by his customary glass of red wine. It wasn’t long after he had finished his meal and wine that Charles fell asleep on the sofa, exhausted after his rollercoaster ride of a day. As he lay there on the sofa softly snoring, his oblivious wife lovingly placed a blanket over him and continued to take care of domestic duties. She did not want to disturb him; she knew he must be worn out due to the long hours he had been recently putting into the practice.

***

The next morning started off as usual, with Rebecca up first preparing breakfast and packed lunches for the girls, and morning coffee for her sleeping husband. As he awoke, Charles once again made his way towards the TV and placed the news channel on yet again, but still nothing of the missing girl. Charles appeared baffled and started to question whether it had actually happened or if it had all been just a dream.

Rebecca, sensing something wasn’t quite right, asked Charles if there was something wrong.

‘Oh no, sorry dear, I was just checking to see if the weather forecast was on, as I heard somewhere that there could be possible floods approaching,’ he replied casually.

She never questioned his response, as it seemed a genuine concern with the house being right next to the river Teviot. Charles then finished his coffee and breakfast before taking Tess for her morning walk. Upon returning he began to get ready, then gave Rebecca a kiss before setting off for work.

As he entered the van he instinctively put CFM on the radio, hoping there would be some news, but once again there was nothing as he made his morning drive into work. The day seemed to drag on as he became more and more agitated at the practice. Even Linda sensed something wasn’t quite right, as he had been snapping
at her all day over the slightest of things. It angered him that nothing had been reported and nobody yet knew of her disappearance.

The longer the day went on, the more frustrated he became. What if he was to take another? Maybe then he would receive the exposure his work deserved. After all, he was fulfilling a public service in ridding the world of worthless little whores! Charles made his mind up there and then that his next victim would come sooner rather than later — but this time she would be disposed of somewhere she would be discovered!

As he left the practice reasonably early again that day, he was unsure of which direction he was heading, but for some reason he was drawn in the direction of Wigton, specifically near to where Mr Beattie lived at Haywood farm. He seethed as he passed along the main road, thinking back to the catalyst that unlocked all these deeply buried emotions that had recently resurfaced. He promised himself he would be back for the farmer as he slowly passed the farm and proceeded to head back in the direction of Carlisle.

Under the cover of a dark winter night, he purposefully stalked the small surrounding villages that scattered around his route back, intent on finding another ‘chosen one’ to be honoured by a fateful meeting with him. As luck would have it, that opportunity presented itself as he saw a girl break away from a small group of her peers and make her way on foot towards a quiet country lane, possibly making her way home to the tiny village of Great Orton just six miles outside of Carlisle. He couldn’t be quite sure of her age, as unlike the others, she was not wearing a school uniform and was possibly slightly older due to the makeup that was plastered all over her face. He thought that maybe she was returning from college; she was likely no older than eighteen. Not his usual age range, but she’d do. He knew another opportunity like this might not present itself.

As he approached her he was initially going to offer her a lift, but he did not want to scare her off so chose instead
to pull up alongside her and engage her in conversation by asking for directions to a non-existent farm nearby. All it took was her to lean slightly towards the open window to speak to him…he pounced. He grabbed her by her long ponytail with his outstretched right hand and shoved the chloroform-soaked handkerchief over her nose and mouth with his left without even having to exit the vehicle. He knew he had to act quickly so as not to be detected; as soon as he felt her legs buckle due to the inhalation of the anaesthetic, he got out of the van, slid open the side door and lifted her into the cage usually reserved for animals. He scanned the area to see if anybody had witnessed what had just happened and saw nothing but high hedges and greenery as he got back into the van and calmly drove away.

Panic started to set in at this point, as it suddenly dawned on him that due to his frustrations, he had not meticulously planned this far ahead unlike the previous two victims, and he was unsure where to head to next. All he knew was that he had to end her life and leave her in a place where her body would be discovered relatively promptly. His mind raced as he aimlessly drove around the boroughs of Carlisle, desperately thinking of somewhere he could finish his task and dispose of the body without being seen by prying eyes — or the many of the CCTV cameras that operate in the area.

He tried to narrow possible dumping sites down to areas on the outskirts of the city, possibly near running water to help wash away any forensic evidence he may accidentally leave behind. He decided to pull over for a few moments to gather his thoughts and recalled seeing another quiet little layby just outside of Wetheral, a small village again located in the surrounding areas of Carlisle. He knew that the river Eden ran through it, as he and Rebecca had walked along its banks on a couple of occasions after eating in the local pub every now and again.

The coast appeared to be clear as he stopped and parked the van under the large trees that ran alongside
the river banks. He sat for a few minutes just to make sure, and contemplated his next move. He’d already decided that he couldn’t afford for her to wake up like the girl the night before so, as he did with Lucy, he injected another five-millilitre barrel of Ketamine into her whilst she lay in the van’s cage. He decided the time was right to move her down to the river bank and out of sight of any potential passers-by. He knew he would have to get this over with quickly, and made light work of removing her clothing before violating her unconscious young body.

There was to be no profanities or talking of any kind on this occasion though, as he could not risk the possibility of somebody overhearing him — this time he did not have the luxury of nothingness for miles around. The only words that were uttered this night were the customary ‘Good night, Mother, sweet dreams’ that he whispered to her as he planted yet another soft kiss on the now dead girl’s forehead before rolling her down the embankment and hearing her body splash into the fast flowing river. Let’s see if this one goes unreported, he thought.

***

His two daughters were still up as he arrived home earlier than the previous night, and Fifi instantly greeted her daddy with a big hug as she jumped up into his arms. Rebecca offered him a huge smile upon witnessing this, seeming happy that she might actually get to spend a few extra precious hours with her husband for a change.

After a few short moments of the girls greeting their recently absent father, with even Molly showing an interest, their mother instructed the girls to go get their pyjamas on and prepare themselves for bed.

‘What’s the hurry?’ Charles asked Rebecca as the kids made their way towards their bedrooms to change.

‘Let’s just say that I have got a surprise in store for you after dinner and once the kids are asleep,’ Rebecca replied.

Charles smiled. ‘I suppose I better go for a shower
and get cleaned up before dinner then shall I?’

She nodded her head and offered a cheeky wink as he started to make his way towards their bedroom. Upon exiting the shower and putting on some fresh clothes, Charles made his way into his daughters’ separate bedrooms. Firstly he gave Molly a goodnight kiss, as she insisted she was too old for bedtime stories, then he tucked Fiona in for the night with her favourite soft toy and book. As he made his approach back to where his wife was making dinner, Rebecca began to make casual conversation with him.

‘Did you happen to catch the local news this evening by any chance?’

Charles, sensing something wasn’t quite right and feeling a little bit as though he was being quizzed by her, sat upright. ‘No why? Should I have?’

‘Oh no, I just thought you might have seen that another young girl has gone missing. This time from the Penrith area.’

‘No, I haven’t heard anything, love,’ he responded.

‘Well, they’re saying it’s too early to tell at this moment in time, but the police have said that there is a very slim chance that this may be related to that poor girl Lucy who disappeared before Christmas from Gretna. What is the world coming to when teenage girls are randomly being snatched off the streets? I won’t be letting our two out of my sight from now on. I can only imagine what those poor families must be going through right now!’

‘Yeah, god only knows how they must be feeling.’

After the couple had finished eating their dinner they nestled down together on the sofa for the evening. After about an hour or so had passed, Charles noticed a familiar figure appear on the television screen who he recognised instantly as Jennifer Metcalfe, the slim, young journalist who had reported on the disappearance of Lucy Mitchell. His eyes lit up as he awaited what she had to say on the second missing schoolgirl.

‘I am here now in Penrith, where police are investigating the disappearance of fourteen-year-old schoolgirl Sarah
Davidson, who hasn’t been seen since yesterday evening. Her parents are deeply worried and are appealing for her to return home. If anybody knows where she is, could they please come forward and cooperate with the police and help them in their investigations? This is Jennifer Metcalfe, reporting live from Penrith.’

Even though it was brief, Charles could barely contain the smug grin that enveloped his face: he would finally get the recognition his work deserved. Maybe now they might start to take him seriously! The thrill of it all started to make him feel aroused, and about five minutes later he turned to his wife with a hungry look in his eyes.

‘So, what was it you had in store for me tonight anyway?’ he asked her in a playful manner.

‘Follow me and find out,’ she told him.

She got up and took his hand, then led him down the corridor towards their bedroom and marital bed.

***

The next morning Charles chose to take a different route to work, opting to go the long way around and pass through the picturesque little village of Wetheral he had left under the cover of darkness the previous evening. Much to his dismay, there was no activity near the site of where he had dumped the girl’s body, but he knew he didn’t have time to sit around and wait and potentially be reported for acting suspiciously, so he left the area and headed the few short miles to work. It was just after lunch that Charles was informed of the third girl’s body being discovered.

‘Have you heard the news about that missing girl?’ Linda asked with a sad look on her face.

Charles, just realising that he hadn’t had the radio on today as he had been far too busy catching up on jobs, replied to his secretary by saying, ‘Yes, it’s terrible, that poor young girl from Penrith. I saw it at home last night. It’s an awful shame. Has she turned up yet?’

‘No, not her Charles, this is a different girl. They’re
saying that a body has been found by the side of the river Eden by a passing jogger, and although they are not quite sure who she is yet, they have said that she definitely does not match the description of Sarah, the girl from Penrith.’

‘Oh, bloody hell! That doesn’t sound good.’ He quickly returned to his office, immediately putting his radio on to see if he could hear any more news on the recent discovery. A few more hours passed before the police finally confirmed that the body was that of seventeen-year-old Carlisle college student, Amber Thompson, who had not returned home the night before. The report continued to say that the police were now contemplating the possibility that Amber’s body and the disappearance of Sarah Davidson and Lucy Mitchell may be connected.

There was a media frenzy over the following days, with dozens of journalists and television crews desperately trying to get an insight into the Cumbria police’s official line on the matter, and any information they may have on leads in their investigations. On top of that, there was a community on edge and starting to become extremely hostile, with demonstrations taking place not just outside Carlisle police headquarters, with families of the victims leading the protests, wanting answers as to how this was allowed to happen in their usually peaceful, and generally safe communities.