Vampire Shift (Kiera Hudson Series #1) (2 page)

“What do you mean by ‘missing’?” I asked, feeling intrigued rather than scared.

“Well, they don’t show up for work. One day they’re here and the next they’re gone. Not even so much as a goodbye,” Luke explained.

“What, they ask to be posted someplace else?” I asked.

“No, they just go missing,” Luke said, and again he looked at me. “I guess they must just leave the force altogether. Perhaps they realise that being a police officer isn’t like watching cops on the T.V. and they quit and go find something else to do.”

“But, why?” I asked, slowing down so as to steer the car around a rather sharp bend in the road. “Dunno – maybe they weren’t expecting so much paperwork,’” he said. “But you can’t have that much paperwork out here,” I said. “It can’t be that busy.”   “You’re right,” he said. “We don’t have a burglary problem, robbery problem or even that much antisocial behaviour. But like I said, we do have a murder problem – and they create mountains of paperwork.”

Speeding-up again, I asked, “So how many murders are we talking about?”

“Well if you exclude the thirty or so people that have gone missing – no one really knows what’s happened to them - we’ve had about twenty murders in the last three years or so.”

“Twenty?” I gasped, nearly crashing the car into a nearby hedgerow. “Some cities in the UK don’t even have that amount in five years – let alone a small little town like this!”

“They started slow at first,” he explained. “The first year we had three and a couple of disappearances. In the second year we had six murders – but this year they’ve escalated at a frightening rate.”

“Are they connected?” I asked, still reeling from what he had just told me.

“The M.O. is the same in each case – if that’s what you mean?” he said.

“So you have a serial killer in The Ragged Cove?” I asked him, not being able to comprehend what he was telling me. How my colleagues had been dumb enough to turn down a posting like this, was beyond me. Some officers could wait a lifetime before they came anywhere close to even getting a whiff of a serial killer case and here I was – right in the middle of one – just days out of training school.

“I don’t think it’s the work of a serial killer,” Luke said, glancing at me again. “But you said the M.O. was the same in each murder,” I reminded him. “It is the same,” he said, then added, “but there is more than one killer.” Gripping the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles glowed white through the skin, I asked, “How can you be so sure?” “There are always more than one set of prints at the scene and the…” he trailed off. “And what?” I asked, almost ready to pee in my pants. “Forensics say that the tooth marks come from different sets of teeth,” he said. “Tooth marks?” I almost screeched.   “Yeah, tooth marks,” Luke said in a grim sounding tone. “At first we thought that they were the tooth marks of an animal because -”

Luke was suddenly interrupted as the airwaves radio that was attached to his coat began to talk in the sound of Sergeant Murphy’s voice.

“Echo One to Echo Three, receiving?” and his voice came through, mixed with the sound of static.

Speaking into the radio, Luke said, “Go ahead sarge – what you got?”

“I hate to be the one to tell you this,” Murphy’s voice crackled back over the radio, “but Farmer Moore reckons his dog has just come across the remains of the Blake kid who went missing a couple of days ago.”

Taking a deep breath, Luke seemed to gather himself together, then said into the radio, “Okay sarge, I’ll make my way straight there.” Then looking at me he said, “Fancy starting your duties a night early?”

“You bet,” I told him, my stomach beginning to buzz with nerves and excitement.

“Okay then,” Luke said, “Welcome to your first vampire shift.”

Chapter Two

Luke directed me along a narrow coastal road, and above the sound of the rain and the wind, I could hear those black waves crashing into the cliffs below. At one point, a gust of wind took hold of my tiny car, and I felt the pull of the back wheels as they headed towards the cliff edge. Letting out a scream, I yanked on the wheel and straightened the car. Luke sat beside me and said nothing, his face white and drawn looking.

As we cleared the coastal road, Luke pointed in the direction of a narrow track and I followed it. At the top there was a gate which led into a field. Killing the engine, but keeping the headlights on, we climbed from the car. Waiting at the gate for us was a short looking man with a curved back. He stooped forward and used a stick to support himself. With a cloth cap pulled so far down his face, it was difficult to see his eyes. Yapping about his heels was a black and white collie.

“Evening Constable,” the man said.

“Good to see you, Moore,” Luke said, and the two men briefly shook hands. Moore glanced up at me from beneath the rim of his cap. His face was wizened and a cluster of white whiskers covered his chin. Without taking his eyes off me, he said to Luke, “Who’s the girl?”

“This is Constable Hudson,” Luke said. “A new recruit, fresh out of the box.”

“I wonder how long she’ll last?” Moore asked, and as he spoke I could see that where once he’d had teeth, there were now a set of fleshly looking gums.

“Where’s the body?” Luke asked, pulling a torch from his utility belt and switching it on.

“Up beyond that tree line,” Moore said, and waved his stick in the general direction of a crop of trees that lined his fields. “I’m warning you though, the kid don’t look pretty.”

Flashing his torch towards the trees, Luke said, “You wait here Moore.” Then looking back at me he said, “Ready?”

Pulling the collar of my jacket around my throat, I nodded. I didn’t know if I were ready or not. I’d never seen a dead body before – only pictures of them from crime scenes shown to us at training school. Following Luke, I made my way across the fields towards the trees. The earth was sodden, and my trainers squelched in the mud. At one point, my foot got stuck and I thought that I might just lose my shoe. Pulling me free, Luke took me by the arm and guided me across the field.

Stepping beneath the canopy of trees, the rain seemed to ease, trapped by the leaves above. Shining his torch on the ground ahead of us, Luke went deeper into the crop of trees. It was eerily quiet and I could hear the sound of my own heart thumping in my ears. Without warning, Luke dashed ahead, shouting over his shoulder, “Look – over here!”

I followed, and as I did, I could just make out the shape of something lying face up in the damp undergrowth beneath the trees. From a distance it looked like a pile of rags, but as I got nearer, I could see that it was the body of a small boy. He was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt which had been ripped open down the front. Luke waved the torchlight up and down the body of the boy. His face looked white and bloated but it wasn’t that which sickened me – it was the look of fear forever engraved upon his small face. I had never seen the look of such terror before, and I shivered at the thought of what his attacker must have looked like.

Bending down, Luke got onto all fours, and for a moment, blocked my view of the boy. He seemed to be examining him. “It’s definitely Henry Blake,” Luke said. “How can you be so sure?” I asked, hunkering down beside him. “Had dealings with the boy before,” Luke said. “Nothing serious – just chucking stones and being a nuisance, that’s all.”   It was then, as I knelt beside Luke that I saw the injuries to Henry Blake’s throat – or what was left of it. From just beneath his chin, to his chest plate, the flesh was missing – ripped and torn away in jagged chunks.

Covering my mouth with my hands, I lurched to one side, desperate not to be sick on my first night and not in front of Luke. “Are you okay?” Luke asked, looking at me, and I could see the concern in his eyes. “Sure,” I said, swallowing hard to push away the bile that was burning the back of my throat. “If you need a moment…” Luke started and put his arm out to rub my back.   Knocking it away, I stood up and tried to regain my composure. “I reckon he died about three days ago,” I said, trying to sound like a police officer instead of some emotional wreck.

“How do you know that?” Luke asked me. And by the tone of his voice, he sounded as if what he really wanted to say was, “How would you know anything? You’ve only been a cop five minutes!”

“See those blisters,’” I said, pointing to the yellowing bubbles on the boy’s arms and legs. “What about them?” Luke asked. “Notice how the body is swollen and bloated?” I asked him. “So?” Luke came back at me. “And that fluid which has leaked from his mouth, nose and ears?” “What you trying to say?” Luke asked.   “They’re all the things that happen to the body about three days after death,” I told him. “Although I could be a day out, it all depends on how warm the weather has been.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Luke asked, looking at me. “The whole process of the body bloating like that can be sped up, depending on how hot the environment is,” I told him. Smiling at me he said, “Where did you learn all that stuff?” “My dad used to be a pathologist,” I told him.   “
Used
to
be?” he asked.

“He died recently – cancer,” I said.

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Me too,” I said looking down at the mutilated boy stretched out before us. “My dad was always telling me all kinds of weird stuff about bodies and things. It was kind of gruesome but it always fascinated me.”

“What else can you see, Sherlock?” Luke said, smiling. Taking the torch from him, I cast light over the scene. “The boy was brought or carried here,” I said. “How can you tell?” Luke asked with a frown. “Look at his trainers,” I told him. “There’s no mud. If he walked here, there’d have to be mud, right?” “I guess,” Luke said.   “But wait a minute,” I whispered, kneeling down again and checking the ground around the boy’s body. I traced the tips of my fingers over the earth and dead leaves then inspected the boy. “That doesn’t make sense,” I said.

“What doesn’t?” Luke asked, sounding confused. “The boy was murdered here – look, you can see the ground is spattered with his blood.” “So what’s the problem?”   “Apart from the boy, there were three others,” I told him. “All of them were adults. Two were male, the third was female. The first male was about six-foot-two, the second shorter, about five-ten. He smoked Marlboro cigarettes – Lights in fact. But he came before the others. He had been waiting for them – I guess anywhere between one and two hours. The female was about five six and had black hair which was dyed blonde.”

“Are you making all this shit up?” Luke asked from behind me. “You know just because you’re new to the job – you don’t have to try and impress me.”

“Shhh,” I said, not taking my eyes off the ground. “But there’s something wrong.” “What?” He had started to sound impatient. “They can’t all have been carried here,” I said, more to myself than him. “I can understand them carrying the victim here, but…” “But what?” Luke hissed from behind me and he sounded pissed off. “Look, you can see the ground around the body is covered with footprints,” I said. “Yeah, so?” Luke said, leaning over my shoulder. “Well, there are no footprints leading to or from the body,” I told him. “And your point is?” Luke asked. “So how did the killers get here if they didn’t walk?” I said, sounding exasperated. “Did they fly?” Then before Luke or even I could answer my own question, there was the sound of people approaching us from the distance. “Who’s there?” Luke called out, sounding spooked. “It’s just me and Constable Potter.”   Aiming Luke’s torch in the direction of the voice, I could just make out two figures approaching us. As they drew nearer, I could see that one of them was Sergeant Murphy by the way he stooped to the right and the other I guessed was Constable Potter. He was tall and lean, with black hair that was slicked back off his forehead. He looked slightly older than Luke and I guessed he was about twenty-four-years-old. Both Murphy and Potter had torches and the light bounced off the trees.

Reaching us, Sergeant Murphy leaned over the body of the boy and showered him with torch light. “Jesus wept,” he gasped and kissed the tiny crucifix pinned to his tie.

“It looks like we’ve got ourselves another one,” Potter groaned, popping a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. “I don’t think you should be smoking here,” I said before I could stop myself. Raising an eyebrow with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, Constable Potter looked at me and said, “And you are?” Before I could answer, Murphy had cut in and said, “This is Kiera Hudson, our new recruit.” Drawing on the end of his cigarette, Potter smiled at me and asked, “Do you have a problem with me smoking?”   Meeting his stare, I said, “No, but I just don’t think you should be smoking here – after all it is a crime scene. At training school…”

“…they fill your head with shit,” Potter cut in. “This is the real world, sweetheart.”

I was just about to tell him that I wasn’t his sweetheart, when Luke said, “Kiera says that there was three of them and that the boy has been here at least three days.”

I don’t think Luke said this to embarrass me, I think he really was impressed with what I had told him. Blowing smoke out of his nostrils, Potter laughed and said, “Looks like we got a right little Miss Marple this time around.” Eyeing Potter, Sergeant Murphy said, “Okay Sean, that’s enough. Let’s hear what the girl’s got to say.”   At first I didn’t say anything, fearing that Potter would start ragging on me again. I know that I’d only just met him, but I already disliked the guy.

“Go on Kiera, tell them what you told me,” Luke said, and he sounded supportive, like a good friend would.

“Go on Hudson,” Sergeant Murphy urged. “You’re with friends here.”

So pointing the torch back at the body of Henry Blake, I crouched down and started to point out the footprints, blisters, and fluid which had come from the boy’s mouth, nose, and ears. Before I’d finished, Potter had started to spray laughter into the darkness.

“What a bunch of horseshit!” he cried. “I don’t know what they’ve been teaching you at training school but whatever it is, you ain’t in no episode of ‘CSI’.”

Standing, I looked at Luke and feeling embarrassed, I wished that I hadn’t said anything.