Michael Fowler - Heart of the Demon

For a split second it entered her head that this must be the killer who had murdered her best friend Rebecca. She made an attempt to pull free from his grip. She never saw the fist, just felt the searing pain around her right eye. There was a crunching noise from the bridge of her nose and a series of flashes and stars clouded her vision. Then came the pain — a sharp and hot pain that made her feel sick.

The man grabbed at her hair, but she twisted away from him and she felt strands being ripped from her skull. Instinct to survive was now taking over and Kirsty was thrashing and kicking out, screaming for all she was worth.

Another blow to her face momentarily stopped her from fighting back. She felt something trickle into the back of her throat and it sent another wave of panic through her body. Then something tightened around her neck closing off her ability to breathe. She clawed at her throat. She felt herself slumping forward and there was a painful thump in between her shoulders. There was the strange sensation, which felt like a warm trickle of fluid running down her spine. Then it was as if someone had thrown a bucket of water onto her back. Darkness seemed to drift over her. The dark became thick, cloying and sticky, throttling and choking her senses. The darkness became black; black as pitch.

* * * * *

“See I told you I was telling the truth,” Billy Smith said, delving his handcuffed hands into a muddy hole and dragging out a dirtied and battered bin liner which had seen better days.

“You wouldn’t believe how many times we’ve heard that,” Grace replied dryly, slipping on her latex gloves to preserve the evidence. “I’ll take over now Billy,” she continued, jumping across the dried up dyke.

“And I’m guessing you want me to take those cuffs off you now?” Hunter asked, following Grace’s lead across the dyke.

Billy offered his encased wrists, prayer like, and Hunter snapped off the police bracelets.

“Thank Christ for that,” Billy said rubbing the red weal marks on his wrists. “You had me sweating back there in the nick. I really thought you were going to stitch me up for murder you know. Even when I’d offered to show you where I found that mobile.”

“We don’t do things like that Billy,” Hunter responded. “Anyway that’s for all the times you’ve got away with it. And you’re not exactly in the clear yet we’ve still got your alibi to check out.”

Billy coloured up and returned a sheepish look.

In one respect Hunter was disappointed. He had thought that the finding of Rebecca’s mobile in Billy’s caravan was the breakthrough they had been waiting for. Finding this lot buried as Billy had said took the enquiry into another dimension. It also meant that if Billy’s alibi did check out, and he now firmly believed it would do, it would mean he was also in the clear over the Carol Siddons murder, and therefore his link with Karen Gardner and Paul Goodright wouldn’t need to come out. He couldn’t wait to ring Paul up later and put his mind at ease.

Grace eased the black bin liner further out of the hole. Looking back over her shoulder she said “Whoever’s hidden this certainly didn’t want it to be found.” She clawed around the entrance way, scooping away debris and depositing it behind her mole-like.

Slowly she picked out the contents from the liner, examining each item carefully before placing them on the ground beside her. Rebecca Morris’s pink schoolbag, her school uniform and books were all here.

“Is it that murdered girl’s stuff?” Billy asked.

Hunter watched his face. Billy looked to be fascinated by the events unfolding before him. Hunter guessed that he’d be recounting all this later in the pub, telling his cronies how he had been helping police with their enquiries. It almost brought a smile to his lips.

“It certainly is Billy. How much of this did you actually handle before you put it back into the black bag?” asked Grace.

“I just opened the bin liner and looked inside. The mobile was virtually on top of everything. I had a quick rummage around inside but didn’t pull anything else out. Why is that bad for me?” he replied, concern now etched on his face.

“It just means forensics will have to separate your DNA from any other we find on these.” Before she could say anything else the ringing of her own mobile disturbed her. She flipped up its top, slipped the unit under her thick curly hair and slotted it to her ear. Crooking her head she trapped the mobile between the top of her shoulder, listening to the call as she carried on examining the contents of the black plastic sack.

Hunter watched on as lines appeared on her forehead, slowly creasing into furrows as she listened intently. He attempted to catch her gaze, wondering what was being said over the other end of that phone which was causing her to be so concerned. He tried to grasp her mumblings but only caught, “We’ll be there inside the hour,” before Grace dropped the phone from her ear and snapped it shut.

“That was Bullars,” she announced anxiously. “He’s at the District General hospital. It looks as though our killer’s just struck again. And get this; it’s Kirsty Evans, Rebecca Morris’s best friend. She’s in a critical condition but she is alive.”

* * * * *

Hunter and Grace had tried their best to avoid the press who were now swarming all over Barnwell District General hospital, but after finding every entrance way barricaded by the gauntlet of reporters, they had ended up resorting to storm-trooper tactics in order to get into the hospital. In one case Hunter had actually smacked shut the entrance door of the Intensive Care Unit in a camera-man’s face. Hunter mouthed the words ‘sorry,’ trying to not break into a grin and jammed his foot against the bottom of the door until a uniformed officer rushed to his aide and took over the department’s security.

The surgeon who had operated on Kirsty Evans met Hunter and Grace in the reception area of ITU. He was still in his green surgical scrubs.

“She is one extremely lucky girl,” he began, removing the green cotton cap to reveal a thinning head of ginger hair. “She’s been stabbed repeatedly in the upper back area, but none of the knife wounds have penetrated her vital organs. There was also an attempt to strangle her with a leather belt but luckily her attacker was disturbed and the guy who saved her managed to get it off before any serious harm was done. I’m told that the Good Samaritan was an off duty paramedic who was out jogging, chased off the girl’s attacker and then administered first aid before the ambulance and police arrived. She has lost a lot of blood and in fact we’ve had to put ten units into her during the operation. There’s no doubt she would have died had it not been for him. We’ve stitched her back together for now and later she will need plastic surgery to some of the wounds. She’s not exactly out of the woods just yet but she is off the critical list.”

“Thanks for that,” replied Grace. “Will we able to speak with her at all?” she asked.

“Certainly not today I’m afraid. In fact it might not even be tomorrow. She has come round since the operation but as you can imagine she is in a lot of pain, so we’ve had to sedate her with quite a strong dosage.”

Hunter spotted Tony Bullars hovering at the end of the corridor trying to catch his attention. With a raised hand he acknowledged him, shook hands with the surgeon thanking him and left Grace to finish off the conversation.

He saw that Tony was clutching an abundance of brown forensic evidence bags. He had already bagged up Kirsty Evans’s clothing.

“What have you got for me Bully?” Hunter enquired.

“These are just her clothes,” he replied tapping the forensic bags, “but I can tell you that we’ve recovered the belt he used. The guy who found her had loosened it but it was still around her neck when uniform got to the scene. I’ve had a quick word with Mike Sampson who’s down at the park and bagged it up for forensics. He tells me that from the width of the belt and the buckle shape and size that it looks like the same one our killer used on Rebecca. The surgeon who operated on Kirsty allowed forensic into theatre and they’ve recovered blood and fibres from underneath her fingernails. She put up a hell of a fight and it means we should be able to get his DNA for the first time.”