Tell Tale (14 page)

Savage put her hands on her hips and looked back down the track. Their car was just visible where they’d left it next to a locked gate. They’d followed the van into the depths of the moor; up past Widecombe and then twisting through narrow lanes, further into the wilderness. Savage had stayed well back, inching round corners to make sure they weren’t spotted. Then the van had turned off the lane and the driver had got out and unlocked the gate, driven through and then relocked it. As soon as he’d disappeared up the track in a cloud of dust, Savage and Calter had rolled up and Calter had leapt out and examined the chain securing the gate. It was no good, the only way through was on foot.

The track climbed to the right and then followed the course of a small stream between two towering tors.

‘Where do you think he’s heading for?’ Calter said.

Savage looked upwards to where the track became lost amongst the thick greenery of a dense pine wood.

‘No idea. Somewhere in the wood I guess.’

‘Fernworthy’s a good few miles from here,’ Calter said. ‘A different wood.’

‘You’re right. Why dump the clothes in such a public place when you’ve got this all around?’

They plodded on up the track, continuing when it entered the woodland. After another quarter of a mile the track reached a dead end where a small quarry enveloped a turning circle. The van sat to one side next to a huge pile of scalpings.

‘Gone, ma’am,’ Calter said as they approached the van. The DC pointed to a small trail which led up a grassy bank and disappeared into the dark at the tree line. ‘Up there I reckon.’

‘Let’s go then,’ Savage said.

‘Is that wise? My mother always told me never to follow strange men into dark woods.’

‘Sensible advice, but unfortunately not applicable when you’re one of Devon and Cornwall’s finest.’

They started up the path, Calter leading, the dense woodland rising all around, rows of conifers clustered together, shadows beneath. The corridors of trees stretched away into the gloom and Savage thought she saw something move far in the distance. When she stopped to look, there was nothing. Apart from the sound of their feet trudging in the dirt there was silence. No birds flitting in the branches, no animals scuffling in the undergrowth, not a living creature to be seen.

‘We should have brought dogs,’ Calter said. ‘This place is vast, he could be anywhere.’

‘You know how I feel about dogs.’

‘Whatever, ma’am, but I’d feel a lot safer with a couple of big German Shepherds to keep us company. This place is like something out of Middle Earth. There could be anything up there. Trolls, orcs, goblins.’

‘I think you’ll find worse in a Union Street club on a Saturday night.’

‘You’re right there.’

The path wound in amongst the trees, turning left and right, curling back on itself before forging upwards again. Every now and then they had to duck under a fallen branch or struggle through a clearing where brambles and bracken fought for supremacy. The little glades were bright, green oases in an otherwise sterile environment of black peat and a carpet of fallen pine needles. They paused next to a shallow leat, clear water within moving slowly along the contour line. Savage took her jacket off and tied it around her waist. She needed a rest. Calter leant against a tree to wait for her, hardly drawing breath.

‘You need to come out with me, ma’am,’ Calter said. ‘Start easy, just five K a couple of times a week. How about it?’

Savage nodded. She’d been meaning to start running again for years, ever since she’d had Jamie. Somehow she’d never got round to it. Maybe she’d take Calter up on the offer. But five K sounded anything but easy.

The route levelled out for a while and then began to rise again. Savage paused again at a tree, wishing they’d brought some water with them, and then carried on. In another twenty minutes the trees thinned and then all of a sudden they were walking on rock, the granite of a tor rising before them.

Savage cursed. There was no sign of the man, no sign of anything much aside from the trees circling the little peak.

‘We’re lost,’ Savage said. ‘Let’s get to the top of the tor to try and get our bearings.’

‘Actually, we know where we are.’ Calter held her phone up, the screen glinting in the sunlight. ‘The trouble is my map shows sod all but a huge patch of green.’

They scrambled up the last few metres and then stood atop the crag. The forest dropped away in all directions. To the south they could see the valley with the track that led back to where they’d left the car. Savage looked at her watch; it was an hour and a half since they’d parked up at the gate.

‘Loath as I am to admit it,’ Savage said as she plonked herself down on a boulder, ‘but I think we’ve bitten off more than we can chew. Call it in. Get a response unit up here ASAP. We’ll take a short rest and then head on down.’

‘Ma’am?’ Calter had raised her phone, but then stopped. ‘Can you hear that?’

Savage stood and listened. A faint chopping sound echoed amongst the boughs. Thud. Thud. Thud. Both Savage and Calter whirled round, trying to make out where the sound was coming from.

‘There,’ said Savage, pointing down into thick woodland. ‘Let’s go.’

Chubber’s caught her now. He managed to corner her up against a fallen tree. Grabbed her and carried her back to the shed. This time, Chubber uses the ropes.

Not so stupid Chubber Chub Chubs, are you?

No, not so stupid.

Chubber’s had his fun and now he’s strung her up by the legs. There’s a block and tackle slung over a branch. A few pulls on the rope and she’s swinging there. Swing, swing, swinging. Cruel. Nasty.

You don’t like cruel do you, Chubber Chub Chubs?

No. Not cruel. Time to act then. Using the knife, slipping the point in at the neck to cut the jugular. Bleeding her out. Soon dead. No more pain. Hot work. Take a little break. Another gulp of water from the pond and then back to the job.

Skin her first rather than gut her. If the gutting comes first then there’s a danger of staining the skin. And Chubber doesn’t want that. The skin is useful. Precious. Skilful job, taking the skin clean off in one piece. But Chubber’s worked in a slaughterhouse. Knows what he’s doing does Chubber Chub Chubs. Oh yes, Chubber does. Absolutely compos mentis Marks and Spencer’s is our Chubber.

Yes, we is!

Stop doodling and dawdling then, Chubber. Onward!

Chubber slips the knife in. Pulls. Teases the skin away from the muscle. Slip, pull, tease. Slip, pull, tease. Comes off like a glove or a stocking. Rolls down easy until Chubber throws the lot to one side, the skin all loose and flippy floppy. Fillet her next. The viscera sliding out. Chubber’ll deal with that later. Take the mess half a mile away and dump it. Now for the jointing. Lower her down onto the big piece of ply. Cut, chop, hack. Cut, chop, hack. Easy peasy. Stack the pieces in the plastic crates. So many pieces. Amazing!

And that’s it. Job done. Slaughtered. Skinned. Gutted. Butchered. Twenty minutes, half an hour max.

Chubber looks at himself. Clear-up time. Muddy, bloody, pissy. Yuk!

Come on Chubber, get yourself together!

Chubber goes to the pool and splashes cool water on his face and hands. Oh! Freezing. Brrrr! Rub a dub dub. Splish splash splosh. Chubber’s cleaner now. Sloshes water over the ply and sweeps the surface down with a broom. Spots the skin and the box of guts all slurp sloppy slop. He kicks the box and they wibble wobble like a giant jellyfish. Bother. He’ll leave them and the skin until his next trip. There’ll be flies but it’s better than getting all dirty again. Now he takes everything down to the car. Hard work. Rewarding work. Satisfying.

Are you sure you’re satisfied, Chubber?

‘Yes I am,’ Chubber says aloud to no one but the big dark wood. ‘Very satisfied.’

Chubber sits in the car. Starts the engine. Gets his breath back. Thinks, does Chubber. Dangerous, thinking, he thinks. Leads to problems. Oh yes and there’s one big problem now isn’t there? A biggy big big problem. Inside the corrugated shed, one of the rooms is empty.

Oh my my Chubber. Naughty Chubber. You know what this means don’t you?

Chubber does know. Always knows. It means that by next week he’ll need another one.

Savage and Calter plunged off the tor and down into the thick woodland. A path of sorts cut through the trees but it was more suited to deer than humans. Low branches tangled Savage’s hair while briers snagged at her legs. The path soon gave out and they were forced to continue down between avenues of trees. After another five minutes Savage stopped.

‘We’re lost,’ she said. ‘Where are those leats we crossed on the way up? They run along the contours so we should have come across them.’

‘This is bad news, ma’am,’ Calter said. ‘Not only are we lost, we’re lost in a wood with a psycho.’

‘If we continue to head downhill at some point we’ll come out at the bottom.’

‘Unless we come across him first.’

They headed on down and after ten minutes of pushing through branches and brambles they emerged onto another path.

‘This is the way we came up,’ Savage said, starting to move along the trail. Then she paused. To her right, something glinted. She stopped again. There. A rock with piece of quartz on one side. Just by the rock, a footprint had been left in a patch of mud. Savage stared off the path down the line of trees. A pine sapling a few metres away lay on its side, the thin stem broken. A little further on, the lower branch of a tree had snagged a plastic bag.

‘Here,’ Savage said, spotting another footprint as she ducked under a low branch. ‘Somebody has walked down the tree line. We must have missed this on the way up.’

She moved on, following the line of trees. After a few minutes they came to a dilapidated chicken wire fence. Most of the fence posts lay flat on the floor, rotting. Where they stood upright the wire hung down in great sheets. The trees thinned and a clear pool sparkled in beams of sun, the light filtering down through the canopy of fir. On the far side of the pen a corrugated iron shed appeared to be more cared for than the fence, since it had benefited from a recent coat of black bitumen. Close to the shed an A-frame scaffold-like structure stood over a flat base. Beneath the frame stood a plastic crate.

Savage stepped forward over the broken fence and moved into the enclosure. The base beneath the A-frame glistened red with blood.

‘Oh my God!’ Calter said, pointing at the crate. ‘What the fuck is in there?’

The crate brimmed with grey sludge of viscera and flesh and blood.

‘This is …’ Savage didn’t know how to finish the sentence. The scene was appalling.

‘Irina. Got to be.’ Calter reached the base, a sheet of plywood.

Savage shook her head. She was struggling to keep her lunch down. In all her time in the force she’d never witnessed anything as shocking.

‘Over here,’ Savage heard herself say as she lumbered across to the shed. There were several pieces of baler twine tying the door shut. Savage tried to unpick the knots and then gave up. She rattled the door and peered in through a crack. Black. A strong smell of urine. Something moving in the dark. ‘Jesus, there’s somebody in there. Help me.’

The DC came across and the two of them jerked the door. The baler twine held. Calter moved away and picked up a broken fence post.

‘Let’s try this, ma’am. We can slip it inside the twine and apply some leverage.’

‘OK.’ Savage bent to the door. ‘It’s alright. Police. We’ll have you out in a moment.’

Calter took the fence post and inserted it in the loop of twine. She rotated the post and applied downward pressure. The twine snapped. As Calter threw the post away Savage swung open the door.

‘Bloody hell!’ Calter said. ‘The stench.’

Urine, shit, something rotting. The smell was overpowering.

Savage moved into the shed. As her eyes grew accustomed to the lack of light she saw there were two inner rooms, the door to one standing open. She moved to the other door and slid back the bolt.

‘It’s OK,’ Savage said as she opened the door. ‘You’re safe now.’

At the back of the shed the girl coughed and then made a horrible bleating sound. A shape moved and Savage saw green eyes flash, the poor thing retreating deeper into the darkness.

‘Take your time. My name is Detective Inspector Charlotte Savage and next to me is Detective Constable Jane Calter. You’re not in any trouble and you’re going to get all the help and care you need.’

Savage stepped to one side and motioned for Calter to do the same.

Then the girl ran for the door.

But the thing on four legs with a woolly coat and a startled look flashing across green eyes wasn’t a girl.

‘It’s a sheep, ma’am!’ Calter said, starting to laugh.

The animal skipped away across the clearing and disappeared into the wood.

Savage let out a long breath. ‘Dear God, I nearly had a heart attack.’ She turned and walked back to the A-frame. A bundle of wool lay next to the box of offal. She kicked the bundle with her foot. ‘Sheepskin. Thank goodness. Creasey’s got nothing to do with the murder of Ana – he’s the phantom sheep rustler the Agricultural Crime Squad have been after.’

‘Where is he? Looks like he’s been hard at work and then just buggered off.’

‘No idea. Let’s get back down to the vehicles. Maybe response have blocked him in. Then we’ll call Riley and tell him the score. He can take it from here.’

‘OK.’ Calter nodded. She had her phone out and was snapping a couple of pictures. ‘I’ll just get some evidence first, ma’am. And something for the canteen noticeboard too. The day we thought we had our very own Dartmoor cannibal.’

Although Riley knew the word cougar was highly disparaging, it could have been invented to describe Helen Peacock. The way the woman strode across the foyer towards him had the effect of turning his legs to jelly. Another part of his anatomy was rapidly going the other way.

‘Detective Riley?’ Red lips articulated the words while the woman’s tongue paused for a moment, the tip caressing her top lip. A figure-hugging dress displayed a substantial cleavage to good effect. The hem was cut short. Media folk, Riley reflected, were a breed apart.