Buried Slaughter (14 page)

“I am. But there’s being thick-skinned and then there’s being a complete fucking lunatic. That’s what this is.”

Somewhere in the distance, Brian heard a larger rustling sound.

“Let’s just go back. Let’s‌—‌”

“Ssh!” Brian said, stopping in his tracks. His feet might’ve been on the verge of sinking into what felt like a large, smelly cow-pat, but it didn’t matter. There was something up ahead. Something bigger than the other movements they’d heard.

“What is it?” David whispered.

Brian grabbed the front of David’s torch and shone it up ahead. It didn’t reveal much more of the darkness-drenched field.

But it did provoke another rustling noise.

“Fuck,” David whispered, a little louder this time. “Fuck it, Brian. I’m turning back. Have fun entertaining yourself here, but I’ve just about had it. I’m only in my slippers, for fuck’s sake.”

“Then you give me the torch and make your own way back. The police will be here soon, anyway.”

David sighed as Brian took a few smaller steps forward, then shrugged his shoulders and followed, the watery mud squelching underneath his slippers. “Not a chance am I leaving this torch with you. And not a chance am I leaving you out here on your own. We’re just going to have to…‌”

David’s speech trailed off. At the same time, Brian’s body froze. He thought he’d heard it, but when David stopped speaking, it only went to confirm it.

His stomach did a loop-the-loop. It felt like there was a roller coaster inside him, spinning round and round. His knees went weak.

“We…‌Fuck. We’ve got to go. Got to go.”

There was no denying the noise. Footsteps were heading in their direction.

Fast.

“Brian,” David said, grabbing Brian’s arm and jerking him backwards. “We have to go. We can’t be out here.”

In the struggle, Brian snatched the torch from David’s hands and shone it up ahead. He had no clue what the hell he was doing. His body was completely frozen as he stared up ahead, in the direction of the footsteps, getting faster and faster as they approached.

“Fuck it,” David shouted, before running in the direction of Marie’s house. “Fuck it‌—‌argh!”

Brian swung around with the torch in hand. David had slipped over, drenching his cotton dressing gown completely in thick, brown mud. Some of the mud had splattered onto his cheeks, too.

But he was okay.

Brian turned back ahead. The footsteps were getting closer. He thought he could see a glimmer of light reflecting. If it was the killer, then the police should arrive right on cue. They could lure him to the edge of the field and capture him.

Plus, Brian’s work at the gym these previous eighteen months hadn’t been for nothing. He hoped.

“Come on,” Brian muttered, his body tense to the point of shaking as he stared at the path of light ahead of him, illuminating the grass. Behind him, he could hear a car driving down the country lane. It had to be the police. It had to be. This was working just as he’d envisaged. “Come on. A few more steps.”

His hand shook. The path of light wobbled from side to side. The footsteps were a matter of feet away. He could hear heavy breathing. In fact, it sounded more like panting.

Like a dog.

Before he had the time to truly register what was happening, Marie’s dog, Rocky, leapt up at him with all four legs and flew into him, knocking him back to the ground and sending the torch up in the air.

“Fuck,” Brian said, as Rocky licked at his face, whimpering and moaning as its smelly breath coated him. “Fucking hell, Rocky. Fucking hell. Where’s your mummy then, eh? Where’s your mummy? David?”

Brian looked over his shoulder. The torch had fallen a few metres away from him, but was shining in the other direction. He was engulfed in complete darkness. He wasn’t sure what to feel. The footsteps had only been Marie’s bloody dog. But that was a good sign, because it meant that Marie must be okay.

As did the fact that he could see a silhouette in the light.

“Marie? Is that you?”

The silhouette was completely still. It was even darker than the darkness behind.

Rocky continued to lick Brian’s face. When he stopped, he looked at the silhouette and growled.

Brian stared at the silhouette. Goose bumps spread across his skin. The fact that the silhouette wasn’t answering could only mean one thing.

It wasn’t Marie.

Battling with every ounce of fear inside him, Brian somehow managed to squeeze out some words. “You…‌Who are you? Are you who I‌—‌I think you are? Why are you doing this?”

The silhouette tilted its head to one side‌—‌its first movement since Brian had spotted it.

Rocky continued to growl.

“Where’s Marie? She’s‌—‌she’s an innocent person. She doesn’t have to be punished. She means no harm. She’s innocent.”

The silhouette’s neck went upright again. It nodded in Brian’s direction, before turning around.

Brian could hear footsteps and commotion at Marie’s house. The police must’ve arrived. David must’ve kept on running and running. Brian hadn’t even noticed. He’d been too fixated. Too focused.

“Don’t you dare walk away. Please. Just talk to me. I need to understand. Why all the innocent‌—‌”

“History decides the innocent from the guilty.”

Brian’s skin shivered even more as the silhouette walked off into the distance. Finally breaking free from the trance his body seemed to be stuck in, he pushed Rocky away and made a lunge for the torch.

When he shone it in the direction of the silhouette, he couldn’t see a thing.

“Brian? What the bloody hell is going on out here?”

Brian’s stomach sank. He recognised the gruff voice. DI Marlow.

He turned around to face him. He was with two female officers. They were both wrapped up in thick coats and had bags under their eyes. One of them had a large mole above her top lip, the other had frizzy dark hair. They all had torches. The one with the mole started fussing over Rocky when he ran up to her, rolling onto his side in hope that she’d tickle his belly.

“What’s happening, Brian?” DI Marlow asked. He peered into Brian’s eyes. “You look half-stunned. What is it?”

Brian turned around in the direction of the empty field. He’d seen the killer. He knew he’d seen the killer. It had to be the killer. Who else would it be?

But whoever it was, they were gone.

“Your girlfriend told me. About you and this Pendle and Longridge mysticism. It’s a dead end, Brian. We already knew about this Harold Harvey guy and all the history, but there’s not a trace of extra evidence. We’re stuck.”

Before Brian could respond, the officer with the mole making a fuss over Rocky interrupted, “I think we might have another lead, Detective.”

Brian and DI Marlow shone the torch at her. Her already pale face had gone completely white. She was holding something in her shaking hand.

“What is that, Carter?” DI Marlow asked, storming towards the officer. He stopped when he realised what it was, shaking his head and covering his face with his hand.

It was around that point that Brian realised what it was, too, as he got closer to the officer. He started to feel sick. His microwave meal rumbled its way up his esophagus. “Where…‌where did you find it?”

“It was on the‌—‌the collar,” the officer with the mole‌—‌DS Carter‌—‌said. The officer beside her collapsed to her knees and threw up as her colleague held up the evidence she’d found.

Brian lowered himself opposite DS Carter. Held his hand out, as much as he didn’t want to. “Let me have a look at that.”

The first thing DS Carter placed in Brian’s hand was the piece of paper. It was a diagram, hand drawn. A face. Limbs surrounding it. The exact same diagram that David Wallson first showed him. The exact same drawings that the supposed Pendle Witches drew, way back in the 17
^th
Century.

But it was the second item that made Brian’s skin crawl, and finally forced his dinner out of his throat and onto the grass beside him.

It was a clump of brown hair with fiery blonde tips.

And dangling from the bottom of it, still dripping blood as it gripped on by the fine hairs, there was a thick piece of scalp flesh.

“We need to get a fucking huge team to search this area,” Brian said, unable to look at the scalp in his hand. “It’s Marie. My girlfriend’s sister. They…‌they’ve got her.”

Chapter Sixteen

Another car of three police officers arrived at the farmer’s field around ten minutes later. DI Marlow had explained the circumstances and events to them, but it still could not prepare them for the loose flap of human scalp that was waiting upon arrival. Brian was told on a number of occasions to go back to his girlfriend and try to calm her down, but he was physically shaking with adrenaline and disbelief.

He’d seen the killer. He knew he’d seen him. It had to be him.

DI Marlow scratched his greying moustache and shook his head. “I know you’re eager to help, but what you need to do right now is go back to your girlfriend across the road there and be a man, dammit.”

Brian could see and hear Hannah arguing with two of the police officers in the distance. She was bound to be growing agitated. A second police car had arrived, after all. If that wasn’t a clear sign of an escalating problem, what was?

“Carter, Wainwright, Wilson and I will scan the area. If her dog came back, then she can’t have gone‌—‌”

“I saw him. I saw the killer,” Brian said.

More colour disappeared from DS Carter’s cheeks as she frowned at Brian. DC Wainwright coughed up some more of her stomach acid. DC Wilson‌—‌a short, chubby man with a flaky, balding scalp and ghastly onion breath‌—‌had joined them. The two other officers that were keeping Hannah calm had taken Rocky away, and were chatting with David Wallson, too. Damn. Brian wasn’t looking forward to explaining why Wallson was here with him. Now that would be a Montague and Capulet-like story of betrayal, right there.

“Whatever you saw or didn’t see,” DI Marlow said, “the fact is that we’re professionals here. And we have a job to do. So I need to ask you once more, politely, to remove yourself from the scene and go back to your family.” An authoritarian tone sparked up in his voice. Marlow was usually eager to put himself on a level footing with other officers, but the gap in ranks really was starting to show now.

But still, Brian squared up to Marlow. He held eye contact with him, as difficult as that was to do. “I’m a former Detective Sergeant. I was offered a role as a Detective Inspector for my ‘stellar detective brain’ and ‘unwavering loyalty’ once upon a time. And sure, I might not be in that fortunate position anymore, but I am still a detective. No matter how much I run away from it, it always catches the fuck up with me. And right now‌—‌with all due respect‌—‌I don’t see very much professionalism here. We’ve just found a piece of scalp, for fuck’s sake. A piece of scalp belonging to my girlfriend’s sister. And we’re standing here twiddling our thumbs.”

Marlow was speechless. His eyes twitched. The other officers looked on, silent, waiting.

“So this can go two ways. The first way is that you let me come along with you. You let me help you. I’ve done a damn sight more detective work on this case than the Preston and surrounding police departments seem to have done, so I think I can offer something to you. Free of charge, too.

“Or, you’ll have to physically stop me. Because I’m a member of the public, and a member of the public who is worried about the welfare of somebody close to me. What’ll it be?”

DI Marlow sighed. He broke Brian’s stare. Wow. That was one bloody thing Brian had not been expecting‌—‌to outstare Marlow. But really, what the hell was he thinking? He had no rights, not anymore. If he were a DS again, he’d probably punch someone square in the face for taking such a “holier than thou” stance.

“You can follow. But only because it’s you, Brian. And you hold all responsibility for anything that might happen to you. Fucking hell, Brian. You really are a snaky prick these days. I blame that Wallson dickhead.”

DI Marlow pushed past Brian, still unable to make eye contact with him again. The other three officers followed.

“Welcome aboard, Dete…‌Well, Brian,” DS Carter said. She grinned. She had a really pretty smile. Just a shame it was tainted ever so slightly by that mole of hers.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Carter. Now let’s get a fucking move on.”

Brian followed DI Marlow and the others through the fields as they shone their torches in every direction. From time to time, Brian heard noises around them‌—‌leaves brushing against one another in the wind. The squelching of the muddy grass. He thought back to that silhouette. The way it had stood there and watched him, then turned away.

Those words he spoke. “History decides the innocent from the guilty.” He wanted to understand. He wanted to get his head around those words.

But every time he tried, he heard another sound in the distance. Or another officer slipped in the mud. Or an intense, shitty smell invaded his nostrils.

“I don’t see fuck all out here and I hardly think we will do until morning,” DC Wilson said.

“Keep walking,” DS Carter said, brushing her hair behind her ears as she almost lost her balance in an indentation in the mud. “If Brian says he saw somebody out here, then he can’t have gone far.”

“Besides, the dog came running back,” DC Wainwright said. Her voice was shaky and uncertain. “It must’ve been in this field. Marie…‌she has to be close by. Right?”

“We just keep looking,” DI Marlow said. “The sooner we can find some footsteps or anything like that, the better.”

Footsteps were proving a problem. Brian had been convinced the silhouette would’ve left behind at least one print, especially in this thick mud. But in the end, it turned out the mud had worked to the suspected killer’s advantage. There were holes in the ground, sure, but they were everywhere. It was nigh on impossible to distinguish a footprint from a natural indentation in the ground.

And of those rare few that did leave marks, they all looked different. Different sizes, different soles. They’d have to get a forensics team down here to investigate and match up with the shoes. They’d have to ask every possible person. This killer couldn’t be perfect. He had to have left something lying around. He had to.