BURIED CRIMES: a gripping detective thriller full of twists and turns (6 page)

Chapter 7: Poems of Despair

New Home For Old Rugs

Are you happy there, down in the soft earth, down in your new home?

Have your patterns faded?

Have your tufts peeled apart?

Have the stains soaked away?

Are you happy there, down in the soft earth, down in your new role?

Acting like swaddling clothes?

Holding them tight?

Entrapping their souls?

Are you happy there, down in the soft earth, encasing their bodies?

Like pupal skins

Waiting for metamorphosis?

Two ghastly, rotting parcels?

Who Am I?

I live a spectral life, empty of meaning.

I inhabit a ghostly world, vacant of substance.

I pore over old memories, and retch at my actions.

I think of their grave, and pray that it stays closed.

Dear God, who am I? What evil being spawned me?

Not my mother and father, kindly souls both.

More the evil monsters that dwell beyond imagination,

Pouring out their filth into this world, a muck that sullies everything it touches.

I am poison, I am toxic.

My name is Death, my face is Medusa.

My breath is sulphurous, my spit is arsenous.

My body drips vileness upon the ground.

And still those two poor parcels call out to me, call my name.

What does their long-dead mother say, howling in the mist?

Does she still search for her babies among the lost, dead souls?

I am destined for the devil to consume, an end that is too good for me.

Chapter 8: Youthful Trauma

Wednesday afternoon

Lorna MacIntyre leaned forward in her seat and spoke quietly to Karen Freeman. The young girl sat opposite her in the small interview office.

‘Your parents are right to send you back to school, Karen. One day of absence was enough, as I said to you yesterday. You may not think so. You may think it would be better for you if you had another couple of days off, but it’s not the case. I spoke to the principal on Monday after your parents phoned in, and we all agreed about it. Even your parents, when I called them back later.’

Karen was tearful. ‘But I just can’t concentrate on anything, Miss MacIntyre. And I keep thinking everyone’s looking at me. I hate it. I hate being here.’

‘We all realise that you’re having a terrible time. But being in school gives you the chance to take your mind off what happened at the weekend. If you try to concentrate on your work as best you can, the horrible feelings you have will slowly fade. And we are taking your situation very seriously. Mrs Taverner asked to be kept informed of how you’re getting on, because we all care about you. She’ll speak to you herself if you want, but she thought I’d be best placed to have a quick chat with you each day, since I’m your form teacher.’

It was lunchtime at Dorchester High School, and Lorna was giving up half of her valuable free time to see the troubled youngster, still clearly upset by the events of the past weekend. Martin Allen, her boss in the Mathematics department, who was also the assistant principal, had stepped in to run her weekly “Catch Up On Maths” club for younger pupils so that she could have some time with the young girl and talk through her problems. Martin had been adamant. The girl should not be told that he was the husband of the police officer in charge of the investigation into the two young bodies found buried in the garden of her family home.

‘Not a good idea,’ he’d said. ‘It will backfire if we tell her that. She’ll think I’m always watching her. She’s got enough on her plate anyway, poor kid. We need to help her to forget. I don’t want anyone else to know about Sophie either, just you and Claudia Taverner. And for God’s sake don’t let the girl’s head of year know. Sharon Blake is the biggest gossip in the school.’

Lorna had been surprised. ‘Doesn’t she know what your wife does?’

‘No. And I want it kept that way. Sophie bumped into Sharon last year at some liaison meeting at County Hall. She’d been taken by our esteemed previous principal, God bless her cotton socks. There was a bit of a clash between Sophie and our ex-leader. I don’t think Claudia’s predecessor came out of the encounter very well. Since it was only a few weeks after Sharon started here, it has probably stuck in her mind. I have a reasonable working relationship with her at the moment and I don’t particularly want it to suffer. I think it would if she found out.’ He grimaced.

Lorna looked up. Karen Freeman was watching her. She smiled at her pupil. ‘You’ve got all the help you could ever need here, Karen. Just try to stay calm. All your teachers know that you’ve been through a trauma, though they don’t know the full details. Your close friends know a little about it, and they all promised to be supportive. I said to you yesterday that we’re all glad to see you back. Just remember that you’re among friends. Are you getting support from anybody else?’

The young girl nodded. ‘The police have arranged for me to see someone tomorrow after school. She’ll be coming to the house. And we all get visited by a policewoman who’s good at listening.’

‘Well, if you need to talk while you’re in school, just come and find me, any lunchtime or break time. Okay?’

She patted Karen’s shoulder.

‘How did it go?’ Martin Allen asked when Lorna returned to the maths department office.

She sighed. ‘As well as could be expected. I feel so sorry for her. It must have been awful. How on earth does your wife cope with it, having to deal with these things all the time?’

‘That’s a question I often ask myself. I always thought she had a layer of impenetrable psychological armour, but I’ve become less sure of that in recent years.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘Two minutes to afternoon registration. We’d better be off.’

* * *

Jill Freeman had left work early so that she would be home when her daughter arrived back from school. Paul, two years younger than his sister, was already in the lounge watching television when the front door banged shut behind Karen. She sniffed the air: cakes. She dropped her bag and walked through to the kitchen.

‘It’s only fruit scones, Karen. I haven’t had time to do anything more complicated. But the first batch is cooling on that rack, so you can have one if you like. It’ll be an hour or more before Dad’s in for dinner.’

Jill rinsed the last of the dishes and watched her daughter spread jam thickly onto a scone and take a large bite. Thank goodness, she thought. Things are beginning to get back to normal.

‘How did school go today? Were things any easier?’

‘It’s horrible. I keep thinking people are looking at me, then when they see me looking back, they look away. I keep thinking they’re talking about me.’

‘It will just be your imagination, Karen. Your friends are really nice, aren’t they? Certainly the ones I’ve met. You don’t think that about Jamila and Rachel, do you? And they’re your closest friends. Haven’t they been friendly enough since you went back yesterday?’

The girl sighed. ‘I suppose so. And it’s not them, it’s the others.’ She paused. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I just feel sad all the time. I feel like crying. I cried today when Miss McIntyre saw me at lunchtime. I tried not to, but I couldn’t help it.’

‘It’s not a bad thing to cry, Karen. It helps to show how upset you are because then other people will try to understand a bit better. How did the talk with Miss McIntyre go?’

‘Okay, I suppose. But some of the other girls found out and they were looking at me when I went into registration.’

‘Maybe you could ask Jamila and Rachel to wait for you outside Miss MacIntyre’s office next time. Then you wouldn’t be going into registration on your own afterwards. How does that sound?’

‘Okay.’ The girl finished eating her jam-covered scone.

‘Will you and Paul be alright watching the telly for a short while? I need to pop out with an important message for someone. Okay, sweetheart?’ She watched her daughter anxiously. Karen merely nodded absentmindedly, spread some jam onto another two scones and took them through to join her brother in the lounge. Her mother smoothed down her skirt, checked her appearance in the hall mirror and slipped out of the front door. Some things just couldn’t wait.

* * *

Theresa Jackson was the family liaison officer assigned to the Freeman family. She was a young Dorchester-based PC, dedicated and keen to do well in her chosen career. She visited Finch Cottage early each evening in order to talk through any issues that the family raised, and to keep them up to date with developments. This particular evening, Wednesday, would be problematic for her, though. She had made a date with her current boyfriend to celebrate his birthday in one of Dorchester’s upmarket restaurants. She had decided to drop in on the Freemans during the late afternoon instead. Karen, the family member of greatest concern, should be home from school by then.

Theresa turned off the main road and drove into the quiet, tree-lined area where the Freeman family lived. She suddenly noticed that the woman walking quickly around a nearby street corner into a secluded cul-de-sac was the Freeman mother, Jill. But why was she acting so furtively? Every few paces she glanced back over her shoulder. Theresa slowed and pulled her car close to the kerb where she watched and waited.

The door of a parked car, a red VW Golf, opened as Jill approached and she slid quickly into the empty passenger seat. Theresa thought she could just make out the hazy shapes of two figures embracing, or was it her over-vivid imagination? She noted the car registration then moved her own car back into the traffic lane and drove on to Finch Cottage. She rang the front doorbell and waited the few seconds that it took Karen to answer the door, safety chain engaged.

‘Hello, Karen. Can I come in? I’m a bit early today, aren’t I?’

Karen smiled weakly and closed the door in order to disengage the security chain. Theresa was glad to see the youngster looking markedly more cheerful than on the previous three days. She followed Karen through into the kitchen.

‘Mum’s just popped out for a few minutes. She won’t be long.’

‘Who else is home, Karen?’

‘Just Paul and me. But we’re okay, honestly. Do you want a scone? Mum’s just made some and they’re lovely with her strawberry jam on.’

Theresa looked around the room. Everything safely tucked away, with no apparent hazards, she noted. ‘No thanks, I’m going out for a meal tonight with my boyfriend. I can’t afford to ruin my appetite, can I?’

Karen looked at her. ‘Is he nice?’

‘I think so. Otherwise he wouldn’t be my boyfriend. Where has your mum gone? Did she say?’

‘Not really. She just said that she had an important message to give to someone. She made sure the doors were locked.’

‘So, how has today gone? You’re looking a bit better. Did school go quite well?’

‘I think so. I was telling Mum I still think people are talking about me, but my form tutor talked to me again at lunchtime and I suppose I don’t feel as bad as I did.’ She paused. ‘It’s okay as long as I don’t think about it.’ She shuddered. ‘I held that hand, those bones. I could feel them, all cold and wet. And to think that the rest of the body was down there too. Ugh.’

She didn’t cry. This was a first in Theresa’s experience.

‘Shall we go through and see your brother?’ she suggested.

They walked through to the lounge to join Paul, who was intently watching the latest instalment of an adventure series on television. Without taking his eyes off the flickering screen he reached out and took a jam-covered scone from the plate Karen held out to him.

‘Are you okay, Paul?’ Theresa asked.

‘Mmmm,’ he replied.

‘Well, that’s alright then.’

Karen rolled her eyes at Theresa. ‘He’s always like this when the telly’s on. It’s like talking to a robot.’

Theresa looked around the room. It was the first time she’d been able to do so in the absence of one or other of the Freeman parents. Family photos were displayed prominently on several surfaces, along with a few ornaments. They all looked happy enough in the photos. They had always appeared to be a close-knit family when she’d talked to them, but was that just a careful deception? Had Jill, the mother, always been slightly distant? Even if that was the case, was it relevant to the reason why she, Theresa, was here? She would mention her concerns to her bosses, but she couldn’t see how her observations could affect the case.

Ten minutes later she heard the front door open, and Jill’s head appeared in the lounge doorway. She put her hand to her mouth when she saw Theresa sitting with the children.

‘Oh!’ she gasped. ‘You’re much earlier than usual.’

‘Don’t worry, Jill. I’ve only been here a short while.’ Theresa gave the mother a reassuring smile. ‘They were safe. Karen is very sensible and knew what she had to do. You weren’t being negligent, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘Even so, it must look bad.’

‘Compared to some of the things I’ve seen on my home visits? You have no idea. I said don’t worry, and I meant it.’

‘I only popped out to the shops for a few minutes.’

‘Okay. Karen’s looked after me, and even offered me scones and jam. You’ve been busy in the kitchen then?’

‘Yes. I took most of the afternoon off so that I could be here for when they came home from school. They usually go to friends’ houses for an hour or so, but I wasn’t sure that would be for the best at the moment. It’ll only be for this week, though.’

She was calm again, Theresa noticed. She tried to remember what Jill did. It was something managerial, she was sure. That would explain how she regained her composure so quickly. What had she been doing when she went out? There were no shops anywhere near the street where Theresa had spotted her, and Karen had told her that her mother was out giving someone an important message. Why the change of story? Theresa was intrigued, but said nothing. It was probably not relevant, anyway. As Jill went to make a pot of tea, two pairs of eyes followed her. Both held doubt and suspicion.