Noelle Holten - Dead Wrong

She reached across him, picked up the plastic bag of white powder and shook it. ‘Can we have a bit of this first?’

‘Oh babe, I have something better in mind for you. A little something special …’ He bent over, opened the small drawer at the front of the coffee table and took out a needle filled with what she assumed was heroin.

‘Hmmm. Not so sure about that, hun. I prefer a bit of sniff these days if I’m honest. Gear doesn’t sit well with me anymore.’ She rubbed her forearms.

‘C’mon babe, don’t be like that. I thought you trusted me. I promise, this stuff is out of this world – it’ll make you feel sooooo good.’

She thought for a moment, imagined the needle piercing her arm and a warm glow consuming her. ‘Fuck it, you only live once!’

He smiled as he wrapped the tourniquet around her arm, choosing a vein, tapping the needle twice before inserting it into her arm. ‘That’s right, babe. You only live once …’

The world shut down around her. She lay back on the couch and let the gear take over.

Closing her eyes, she smiled and whispered to herself. ‘Sooooo good.’

When she finally came around she was tied to a bed, her eyes and mouth covered with some form of material bag. The stink of urine and sweat filled her nose and the low, gut-wrenching moan she heard echoing off the walls told her she wasn’t alone.

Maggie had thought her nightmares were over when serial killer Bill Raven, ‘The Chopper’, had been convicted just over two years previously. Having returned to her team at Stafford Police Station following a secondment in the Domestic Abuse and Homicide team, she believed she had left that particular case well and truly closed. Although the remains of Raven’s victims were never found, he confessed willingly to abducting, dismembering and then disposing of three females whom he named. Forensics at the time corroborated his account.

Then, a few weeks ago, she had received a message from DI Rutherford, her boss at the Major and Organised Crime Department in Stafford. Maggie had been attending an event where Lucy Sherwood, a Probation Officer from the Domestic Abuse and Homicide Unit, was speaking. It was a message she would never forget.

Your secondment is over at the DAHU. Raven has appealed his sentence, claimed he’s innocent. Timely I’d say as there has been another murder. Either a copycat or the real killer picking up where they left off. Get your arse in here.

She had seen the news – body parts had been found in a bin – and sweat had begun to trickle down her spine. Forensic details had not been released to the public, but when Maggie had returned the call to her DI and learned that the body parts had belonged to Lorraine Rugman, the first victim that Raven had named in his confession, Maggie’s world had begun to fall apart.

No! No! No! This cannot be happening. This is not real …

And then the anger had come. And the questions.

Is the wrong person in prison? Is Raven toying with the police?

Now three weeks had passed since Maggie had returned to her team and the nightmare had only got worse. She couldn’t get him out of her mind. The greasy hair, the stubbled, ragged face. His lanky frame hollowed out by years of drug use. And the smell – the pungent smell that oozed from his pores, burning her nostrils. But the worst thing was his voice. That arrogant smooth voice that made her skin crawl.

She threw off her blankets and went to find coffee.

Ugh. It was in her head now, his voice.

It was like he was in the room with her … no wait.

The voice was coming from downstairs.

‘You must see it now. I couldn’t be guilty of the murder of Lorraine Rugman, or those other women. They may still be alive. My solicitor has launched an appeal with the Criminal Case Review Commission, so as much as I would like to tell you all the details, I can’t. My thoughts are with the victims’ families at this moment in time. I can’t be selfish and just think about how all this has impacted me alone. Those poor women … God only knows what they went through … or are still going through. I hope they catch the real killer soon …’

Maggie could hear his voice emanating from the living room. That slow, monotone slur creeping its way into her eardrum like an unwanted worm. It still sent shivers down her spine. She went downstairs, made herself some coffee and stood in the kitchen, listening to the TV in the other room. She couldn’t believe that Raven’s solicitor had launched the appeal in just three weeks, almost as if he had known the body parts were about to be found. Raven had been prepared. With his previous appeals exhausted, the discovery of Lorraine had brought new evidence to the case.

He’s dangerous.

More people will die if they let him out, why can’t they see that?

‘Why are you just standing there? You’re as white as a ghost, Maggie. Are you ill?’

Maggie snapped out of her daze. The TV had been switched off and she looked up to see her brother, Andy, standing in the kitchen staring at her.

‘I’m OK,’ she said. ‘What were you just watching?’

‘That weirdo, Bill Raven, the one who’s appealing his conviction – he’s speaking to some journalist. Telling his side of the story. Miscarriage of justice, he says, and an agency called the CCRC has taken his case. Who are they? There’s something not right about that guy. I know he has mental health issues, but those eyes … creepy if you ask me.’

Maggie gripped the handle of the mug in her hand. She watched as a drop of coffee tumbled through the air as if in slow motion and landed on her wood floor. She followed him into the living room. ‘The CCRC is an independent body that investigates cases where people feel they have been wrongly accused or convicted. It means he may get out.’

Sitting down next to her brother, Maggie placed the mug on the table and ran her fingers through her hair. Scrappy came into the room and rubbed against her leg. She picked up her furry friend and gave him a cuddle; he had a knack for relaxing her. She’d be lost without him. Andy switched the TV on again and there he was. She glared at the face which had haunted her sleep for months, the vile descriptions he used as he confessed to chopping up his victims. An icy tremor raced down her spine. Maggie vowed she would not let Bill Raven creep into her head again.

‘Seems like he’s winning everyone over with his bullshit. I don’t care what they think, he’s got to be involved. I mean, why would you confess to something you didn’t do?’

Maggie looked at her brother.

‘The journalist he was talking to said that the prison psychologist diagnosed delusions of grandeur or some such crap. Apparently, that’s why he confessed. How messed up do you have to be to claim to have killed three women, right? I think someone is jumping on the Making a Murderer bandwagon.’

‘Ha! Sounds about right, but this isn’t the US. I know there have been times when innocent people have been punished for crimes they didn’t commit; however, my gut tells me that’s not what happened here.’ Her leg shook with frustration. ‘I wish I could say more, Andy. Everything about this guy is not right.’ Shaking her head, Maggie continued, ‘Anyway, he’s taken up enough of my morning.’

‘Bit weird how the body parts just turned up, don’t you think? What if he wasn’t involved?’ Andy didn’t seem to take her hint.

Maggie shrugged her shoulders. ‘I can’t talk about an active case. All I know is that Bill Raven is hoping to use the coercion card to get out of jail free; we have another possible murderer lurking about and I’m being told to tread carefully and focus on the current investigation.’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, enough. What are you doing today?’