Vanished Beneath: DS Lasser six (The Lasser series Book 6) (29 page)

Lasser sighed and pulled out his cigarettes, perhaps he was unable to function without a woman in his life? Suddenly he knew the truth, in the past it had been hard but he'd coped of a fashion, but with Medea things were different, here was a woman, ‘
the woman
’ he wanted to spend the rest of his days with. It was a frightening thought that filled him with anxiety, if he blew this, if he somehow drove her away then he knew that picking up the pieces would be nigh on impossible.

Bannister was always winding him up, saying Medea was too good for him and that one day she would see through the facade to the real man beneath.

What if that was the truth what if she suddenly came to her senses and realised he was a fraud? It was a stick he used to beat himself up with and one that was never far from his thoughts. He thought of those quiet intimate times when they would lie together and talk of the future, he would listen as Medea made plans, nothing major, just the kind of pipe dreams that people made when they were curled together with a harsh wind blowing at the window. He would smile in the darkness as she talked of them growing old together, and yet here he was letting her down, breaking a promise that had obviously meant so much to her.

He thought of Colly Roberts as he plummeted to the ground, the way he had fallen in a pocket of silence until his body slammed into the ground with a sickening crunch.

Closing his eyes, he tried to shut his mind off, but like a dripping tap in a steel sink it kept pinging the images forward. Medea chewing the inside of her cheek, her eyes bright with an unspoken fear. Emma smiling at him as she painted her nails,
'She's mad for you
,' those had been the words Emma had used to describe Medea's feelings for him.

Lasser grunted and his head slipped forward as the tiredness swept through his bones.

He thought of the three bodies dragged from the lake, the bloated form of Joseph Crank, the dark haired Mary and the unknown blond girl, eighteen maybe nineteen, Doc Shannon had said.

Sarah Clark battered to death with a tyre iron.

Then a name slithered into his brain, one that he clung to as his mind closed down.

'
Kylie Frodsham
,' he whispered and then he was gone.

79

Albie Ross spent the day in a hell of his own making. He hadn't bothered to open the curtains, the hours had passed with agonising slowness as he paced back and forth in the small living room.

Occasionally, he would make a detour to grab another cold beer from the fridge.

Now he slipped on his jacket, patting at the pockets to check he had the keys to the car, he made his way into the back garden closing the door quietly behind him. Lifting the lid on the bin Albie snapped his head away as the stink rose up to meet him. Sharon Cliff lay crumpled at the bottom of the narrow space; he could smell the overpowering stink of burned flesh and excrement.

Gagging, he let the lid slam shut as the sweat broke out on his body, his hands felt clammy and stiff as if he had them thrust in the freezer for days.

'Come on you can do this,'
he hissed before dragging the bin to the garden gate.

Undoing the clasp he clattered his way into the narrow alleyway before running to the front of the house for the car. Reversing the rust bucket down the passageway, Albie leapt back out and popped the boot; he could see lights on at the back of some of the houses, his eyes flitting back and forth on the lookout for some nosey bastard to pull their curtains wide to see what all the racket was about.

Getting the body from the bin to the boot took every ounce of his dwindling strength, twice he had to stop and dry retch at the side of the wall as the stench swirled around his head.

After what seemed and age he slammed the boot and pushed the bin to one side before scrambling back behind the wheel.

Drawing a huge breath, he crawled forward, taking his time as he drove along the narrow street.

The voice on the phone had been specific about where the body was to be dumped. At first, Albie had protested, but when the caller had threatened to hang up and call the police Albie had realised he had no choice in the matter.

His eyes kept flitting to the interior mirror, convinced that any second he would see blue lights flashing in the distance as the filth hunted him down.

Licking his lips, Albie headed out onto the main road, despite the hour, the traffic was still heavy with taxis ferrying people back and forth for a night on the town.

He squirmed in his seat as a cop car went flying past on the opposite side of the road, holding his breath as it diminished in the wing mirror.

When the traffic lights ahead changed to red he eased to a stop, watching as a group of girls tottered across the junction, linking arms in a long line, bare flesh shimmering with glitter glow as they strutted past.

Under normal circumstances, Albie would have slid down the window and made some comment about the size of their tits or the shape of their arse. Tonight however, sex was the furthest thing from his mind; in fact, he doubted whether he would ever be able to get it up again. An image of Sharon floated to the forefront of his misfiring brain, her lips wrapped the head of his cock, a gleam in her eyes as she went to work and then her face had started to twitch, her eyes had rolled back just as he shot his load.

Albie shivered at the memory of what came next.

When the driver behind blasted his horn, he looked up to find the light had changed to green.

Raising an apologetic hand, Albie lurched forward before grabbing second gear.

'Keep
calm,'
he urged before taking a huge lungful of air.

Five minutes later, he pulled off the main road and headed down a short cobbled street lined with boarded up terraced houses. Over the years, an army of kids armed with broken bricks had shattered all the streetlights, leaving the stretch of road gloomy with shadows.

When Albie reached the metal gates, he hesitated before slamming the car door open. Feverish with panic he scuttled to the boot and hauled the body from the narrow space.

When the back of Sharon's head hit the cobbles, Albie groaned in distress. Grabbing her ankles, he dragged her to the gates and let go of her feet with a shudder.

Feverously, he swiped his hands back and forth on the front of his jeans in an effort to wipe away the feeling of disgust.

'Sorry Shaz,'
he said as he looked down at the crumpled figure, her legs shone pale in the gloom, her peroxide coloured hair lay on the cobbles like threads of spun silver.

When the dog stared to bark, Albie jittered back, he could see the mountain of scrap metal beyond the gates; hear the huge animal rattling its chain.

Thirty seconds later, Albie Ross was driving away, the horror of what he had done branded for eternity onto his tortured brain.

80

Lasser awoke with a start, the temperature in the room had dropped leaving him feeling chilled. He blinked into the darkness before fumbling for the lamp switch.

Rubbing at his eyes, he glanced at the clock on the wall and frowned before checking the one on his wrist.

Half past one, moving to the window he slid back the blind, the frown growing deeper as he saw the empty space where Medea usually parked her car.

Wandering into the kitchen, he flicked on the light and gave the room the once over before moving to the foot of the stairs. As he climbed, he pulled out his mobile and checked for missed calls or messages, the feeling of unease growing with each step.

He reached the bedroom and stood in the doorway in indecision, before tapping Medea's name into the phone.

As it droned, he made his way along the landing and pushed open the door to the spare bedroom.

'It has not been possible
...'

Clicking off the call, Lasser slapped a hand against the light switch, when he saw Emma’s suitcase on the bed he paused before pressing the call button again.

'Come on Med don't do this to me,' he said as he walked over to the bed.

Flipping open the lid he looked down at the scattering of underwear, the sweet scent of perfume wafted up from the open case. The sense of unease suddenly grew inside his mind.

‘It has not been possible…’

A couple of minutes later, he was driving off the estate, as soon as he reached the main road he slammed his foot on the accelerator, barrelling down the road, the surface slick with rainwater, the sky black with foreboding.

He hurtled past a line of slow moving taxis; a couple of them blasted their horns as he swerved onto the wrong side of the road. Yanking the wheel, he shot around the roundabout and floored the gas. Houses flew by in a blur, he bulleted from one cone of light to the next, all the time his brain screaming
'No!'

Ten minutes later, he pulled up outside James Drake's house any sliver of hope died as he failed to see Medea's car parked on the drive.

Thrusting the door open, he ran up the drive and started to bang on the front door before dropping into a crouch. Flicking open the letterbox, he peered along the darkened hallway.

'Mr Drake wake up it's the police!'
he shouted before hammering on the door for a second time.

When the hall light clicked into life, Lasser took a step back, wiping the back of a hand across his dried out lips.

As soon as the door began to open, he moved forward.
'Is Medea here?'

James Drake blinked out at him, his eyes fogged with sleep.
'Medea?'

'Yes, yes is she here?'
Lasser reached out and grabbed the sleeve of the old man's dressing gown.

'No she left hours ago.'

The words landed on Lasser's shoulders like a burning accusation.
'Shit!'

'Look, what's happened have you found
Emma?'
Drake looked on the verge of collapse, his grey skin looked parchment thin his washed out pale blue eyes sunken.

'Did she tell you where she was going when she left?'

'I told you I haven't seen Emma in five years.'

Lasser took hold of Drake's shoulders, he wanted to shake him awake, shake him into the here and now.
'I'm talking about Medea, Mr Drake, not Emma.'

Lasser saw the confusion evaporate as the penny dropped. 'She said she was going to give you a call and then I think she was heading home.'

Lasser dragged out his phone and scrolled through the numbers.

'You would tell me if something
bad
has happened wouldn't you?'

Lasser held up a hand and waited, after half a minute Bannister answered his voice thick with sleep.

'Have you any idea what bloody time it is?'

'Fuck the time!'
Lasser barked and watched as Drake's eyes sprang wide in shock.

'What's the matter?'
Bannister asked, suddenly sounding wide awake.

Lasser explained the nightmare scenario.

81

Steve Howell yanked on the lead and the bull terrier looked up at its master with a baleful gleam in its eye.

'Don't look at me like that Maud,' he grumbled as he took a short cut between the boarded up houses.

The dog gave a shake, rainwater sprinkling from its thin fur.

Picking his way over a scattering of broken bricks, Steve lowered the umbrella for a second while he flicked up the collar of his waterproof jacket.

He'd finished his shift at the bakery an hour ago and would have loved to be curled up in bed, but over the years Maud had got into the habit of wanting to go out for a quick walk when he got in from work.

'Damned dog,'
he mumbled as a blast of wind threatened to turn the umbrella inside out. Shivering, he looked around at the houses that should have been demolished years ago, half the slates on the roofs were missing and the pavement gleamed with shattered glass.

While the dog stopped to take a leak, he fished a cigarette from his pocket and lit up, blowing the smoke out into the fine drizzle.

'Come on Maud take a dump for God's sake.'

The animal started to sniff at the ground, the thin cable of the wandering lead whined as the dog trotted across the road. With a heavy sigh, Steve stepped into the road and followed the squat animal as it sniffed its way along the pavement.

He should never have let the kids talk him into getting a dog in the first place. As expected, once the novelty had worn off he was the one left feeding and exercising the bloody thing. As for getting them to pick up the crap, well he had no chance.

When the small animal suddenly began to bark, Steve frowned in surprise, Maud might have many faults, but barking wasn't one of them. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time she had yapped at anything.

'Shut up you daft bugger
,' he snapped as he yanked back on the lead, but the dog continued to bark trying its best to scrabble forward, he could hear its nails scraping on the tarmac.