Coming, Ready or Not (D.S. Hunter Kerr Book 4) (22 page)

He took it off her and looked at it.
‘If you want to know, I didn’t send that letter. Polly sent that to me when she was on holiday.’ In a scolding fashion he tapped her hand with the envelope. ‘And come to think of it, young lady, you never send me letters like this.’

‘
Oh, Hunter Kerr, I’m always telling you I love you.’

He gave a short laugh and began picking up the items spread out over the coffee table. He gave each of them a
quick look-over as he placed them back in their box. They evoked several flashbacks. The last things he picked up were four black and white photo booth photographs of Polly and himself in a lovers’ clinch. He remembered those being taken in Woolworth’s.

Beth sipped her wine. Then, angling her glass towards him said,
‘What was she like?’

He dropped the
photos into the box, picked up his mug of tea and settled back. ‘What do you mean?’

‘
Well I can see she was pretty. But what was she like, personality-wise?’

He thought on the question for a few seconds, then said,
‘She was nice, kind. It was such a long time ago though. We were teenagers. I thought I was in love.’

‘
Yeah, but since you met me you know what love is, don’t you?’

With a cheeky grin he replied,
‘Do I?’

‘
Ooh, Hunter Kerr. You wouldn’t be without me for the world.’

He rested back his head.
‘No I wouldn’t.’

She took another drink.
‘How did you feel when you found out about her being murdered?’

‘
It was surreal. Like a dream going on in my head. It didn’t sink in at first. Not until the funeral. Then, it hit home. It affected me for ages. But, eventually you move on, don’t you? You know it’s why I joined the job all those years ago. Now it feels really weird, dealing with it, after all that time.’ He glanced up to the ceiling, then re-met Beth’s eyes. ‘I’ll tell you what was weird. And uncomfortable. Going to see Polly’s parents and giving them the news.’

With a smile she said,
‘I think you need something stronger than tea. You’re going all maudlin on me.’

‘
Oh, go on then, you’ve twisted my arm. I’ll have a small nightcap.’

- ooOoo -

Day
Sixteen: 2nd April.

Barnwell.

The BMW reversed out of the drive
and braked in the middle of the road. The driver gave a quick glance towards the house, waved, and then, with a squeal of tyres, set off towards the end of the street.

From his hiding place he waited
while it swung away from the junction. Into his head sprang the words ‘Watching the detectives’ – the line from Elvis Costello’s song, and he couldn’t help but smile conceitedly.

Detectives – I
’ve shit ’em.
He had already been inside the house once and they’d not even noticed. He looked at his watch. In another half an hour he knew she would be gone as well.

Perfect.

The plan was coming together. Like it always did. This time though, he wasn’t going to jump in. He really wanted to freak her out.

He checked his watch again.

Now all he had to do was wait.

‘The names Dale and Scott didn’t ring any bells with the Richmond team, I’m afraid.’ Hunter had just finished giving the MIT squad a rundown of his and Grace’s visit to Richmond upon Thames.

Detective Superintendent Leggate
’s eyes left Hunter and scanned the room. ‘Never mind, it’s early doors. I think everyone will agree the visit was a success. We certainly have a bigger picture of what has emerged here. It certainly looks as though the Richmond jobs were a starting point for our killer. Though, given these attacks, unlike Elisabeth Bertolutti, who had a link to Richmond and London and met with our current suspects, I’m at pains to see where Polly Hayes and Gemma Cooke fit into this. We don’t have them linked to any events in London, do we?’

A couple of
detectives returned shaking heads.

She
settled her gaze upon Hunter.

He pursed his mouth.
‘I don’t recollect Polly ever going to Richmond or London, or mentioning it.’

Mike Sampson piped up,
‘We know Gemma had an altercation with a man in the Frog & Parrot, which was followed by the masked man following her in Sheffield and possibly home. Do you think it could it be in both cases of unfortunately being in the wrong place at the wrong time?’

‘
That’s something I want to explore. Hunter, I want you to speak with Polly’s parents this morning. Check if they’ve ever been to these places, or if they’ve got relatives or friends down there.’

Hunter made a note of it.

‘And I want twice daily contact with the Richmond team. Share what we’ve both got. Having them on board is going to be a big help, especially if our current suspects do live in their neck of the woods. Hunter and Grace, you’ve made the initial links with that team. I want you two to continue that contact.’

They both returned a nod.

‘Have we got anywhere with the green cloak Polly Hayes was found wrapped in?’

Mike Sampson said,
‘No one’s come forward to identify it yet. I’ve chased up the Press Office to see if we can give it some more publicity. And it’s on fast-track at Forensics. I spoke with them yesterday afternoon and they said they should begin DNA work on it in the next couple of days.’

‘
Okay, let’s see if we can chivvy that along a bit quicker. It would be nice to find out where that came from, especially as it doesn’t feature in the Richmond enquiry.’ She clapped her hands, ‘Okay, fresh day ahead everyone. Let’s make every minute of it count.’

With a satisfied sigh, Hunter signed the last of the ‘action reports,’ scooped them up and tapping them together into a semblance of neatness he dropped them into his out tray. Relaxing his concentration he gazed out through the window. The view wasn’t great. He looked down over the rear car park. The only activity there was the dog man cleaning his van. He pulled back his gaze and scanned the room. Most of the team were still at their desks, handling calls or working at their computers. He spotted Isobel, from the HOLMES team, writing away on the incident boards. He could make out she was updating them with the information from ‘Operation Scarecrow.’

Returning his eyes back
to his cluttered desk he sucked in his breath. He hated being desk-bound. Though, looking at the material scattered across its surface, he knew he would be going nowhere today. He had a fair bit of Polly’s exhibits to go through. He still hadn’t finished reading her five-year diary and he’d brought in the contents of the cardboard box from home. He wanted to check if there was anything in there that made any reference to London or Richmond. An earlier phone call to her mother had failed to reveal any connection.

The first item he selected was the envelope with the acronym
‘S.W.A.L.K.’ written across its torn rear flap – the letter Beth had mocked him about last night. He slipped out the piece of folded paper. As he opened it up he smiled. At the top of the page an imprint of a pair of red lipstick lips smeared the opening line of ‘Hi Hunter’. He imagined Polly’s voice whispering his name, as she penned it, and remembered finding similar notes in his school blazer and text books. He began to read. It was the first of two letters she had sent him while holidaying in Cornwall, with her parents, and best friend Lucy, during July 1988. The opening paragraph was about how much she was missing him. She then proceeded to outline some of the things she and Lucy had been up to. As he got to the last paragraph, on the first page, he caught his breath. He read the paragraph again. Dropping the letter, he snatched up Polly’s diary. Opening it, he flicked through pages speedily, quickly checking the calendar months and years, at the top corner of each page, until he found the dates he was looking for. Placing the diary flat down on his desk he began to read slowly through Polly’s daily writings over a two-week time span.

As he finished he looked up and set his eyes on Polly
’s incident board.

That
’s it,
he said to himself.
That’s the link.

He
scooted back his chair and dashed out of the office.

Detective Superintendent Leggate’s door was ajar.

Hunter tapped but didn
’t wait for an invite to enter.

‘
Boss, I’ve got something,’ he said, pushing open the door and stepping into the office.

Dawn Leggate looked up from her desk. She extended a hand and offered Hunter the seat in front of her desk. He dropped Polly
’s letter on top of the paperwork the Detective Superintendent had been working on and plonked himself down in the chair.

Leaning forward he said,
‘I’ve not mentioned this, but when Polly was murdered, I kept some of the things that were personal between us. I left them at my mum and dad’s house when I left home and a couple of days ago I found them again. I’ve started to go through them to see if there was anything relevant, and a couple of those things were letters she sent me in 1988, when she was on holiday with her parents, and best friend, in Cornwall.’

He stabbed a finger towards the letter.
‘Just read that last paragraph, boss.’

Hunter watched the SIO
’s eyes move along the letter. He gave her a few moments to read it, leaned in further, to get better sight of the writing, and said, ‘As you can see, she’s put down there, the sentence, “you’ve got competition Hunter. Me and Lucy have been chatted up by two good looking lads. But you’ve no need to worry I’ve told them I’ve got a gorgeous boyfriend back home.”’ He met her gaze. ‘I’d forgotten, but now I can remember quizzing her about this when she came home and she ribbed me about me being jealous over it. Anyway, she wouldn’t tell me who they were.’ He produced Polly’s diary, ‘So, just now I decided to check the dates, when she was on holiday, to see if she’d put anything in there about them.’ He opened the diary to the pages he had pre-selected and laid it over Polly’s letter. He kept his fingers pressed firmly on the bottom of the facing pages to stop the book springing closed. He dipped his head. ‘Just read these entries.’

Detective Superintendent
lowered her eyes and silently read the entries Hunter was pointing out

Wednesday 13 July.

Met two lads today. Had a laugh with them, but not as nice as Hunter.

Friday
15 July.

Bumped into Dale and Scott again today.
Could tell Scott fancied Lucy. Felt a bit of a gooseberry.

Monday 18 July.

Dale and Scott becoming a bit of a pain now. Everywhere we go they
’re there. Can’t they take a hint.

Thursday 21 July.

Didn
’t go down to the beach today to avoid Dale and Scott. Going home tomorrow. Thank God. Looking forward to seeing Hunter.

Dawn Leggate’s head jerked up. She met Hunter’s eyes. ‘Bloody hell. Get onto Devon and Cornwall straight away with this.’

He rolled out from beneath the bed and for a few seconds lay there, gently flexing his joints. He wasn’t surprised as to how stiff he was. He had lain there for the best part of four hours, hardly daring to move, and controlling his breathing as he’d listened to the pair moving around the house. A couple of times he’d heard them pass by the door of the room he was hiding in. On those occasions he’d tightened his grip on the knife and not let go until they’d gone back downstairs. An hour ago they had come upstairs for the final time, and he’d listened to them bathing and preparing themselves for bed. He’d waited patiently until satisfied that they were asleep.

This is my time.

He eased himself up, rolled his neck, straightened his mask and tiptoed to the door.
He grabbed the handle and listened at the panel.

The house was quiet.

Turning the handle, ever so slowly, he opened it.

He edged onto the landing and listened again.
Adjusting to the gloom he could make out that their bedroom door was ajar. He inched his way forward.

Suddenly, a rushing noise invaded his hearing; the adrenaline had kicked in. He caught himself and steadied his breathing
.

Regaining control, h
e stepped into their bedroom. He could just make out the outline of their forms beneath the duvet. From the sounds they gave off he could tell they were in a deep sleep.

He stood at the edge of their bed
. The feeling of power surged through him. Right now he could do anything he wanted. But he’d already decided he wasn’t going to do anything. Not tonight. Tonight, he was there for a purpose, and that purpose was to instil fear.

Scare the
fucking living daylights out of her.

He slipped out his mobile phone and
snapped off a photo. The flash lit up the room and for a split second he didn’t stir.

When there was no movement
from them, he slipped backwards out of the room.

That was the first part of the plan over.

- ooOoo -