strikes again. Did you like that one? I take full credit. People love an urban legend and that ghost story is something.’
So, Lyndsey was behind that headline.
‘Would you say that Cleevesford Police are the most incompetent in the country? So many crimes, so many murders, in such an itty-bitty town. Is the killer of this man going to be brought to justice before anyone else is murdered?’
Gina pushed another man out of the way and the photographer thrust her camera into Gina’s face and the flash went off. She squinted until the green blobs that had formed in her vision had subsided.
‘Is someone else going to be buried alive? You can’t even identify the victim. Do you have any info on the motive or who might be behind this?’
Gina clenched her fists together. Already they’d taken her photo and she was being hounded all the way to her car. Lyndsey reached down and gently took Gina’s wrist, pulling her back. Gina threw it off as hard as she could. ‘Get off me.’
‘The people of Cleevesford have plenty to say about you, poor little Gina.’
She paused and stared. ‘Did you send a letter to me, at the station?’
‘Ooh, tell me more about this letter you speak of?’
Gina turned and scurried across the car park, pushing through three more reporters before reaching her car. With shaking hands, she fumbled in her pocket for her keys.
‘See you in the morning, DI Harte. Check out the papers, your mugshot might just be featured on the front page.’ Lyndsey leaned over to the photographer and scrunched up her nose. ‘As always, you do look lovely in photos.’
Gina got into her car and slammed the door, driving out and forcing all the reporters to part. Most times the press could be helpful, but in this case she sensed they’d be nothing more than a hindrance with their sensationalist stories and guesswork.
Briggs was looking out of the incident room window. He gave her a little wave as she drove off. This was just the beginning of this investigation and it was more than a nightmare, it was a personal night terror for her. A whirl of nausea and hotness flashed through her as she took another bend. She needed to get away from it all and clear her head.
As Gina drove along the high street, her phone rang. It was Briggs. She selected hands-free.
‘Everything okay, sir?’
‘We’ve just had a call from what may be our victim’s mother. She recognised him from the press release. I’ll email all the info across to you. She’s in Spain, back tomorrow afternoon.’
‘I’ll pay her a visit after the post-mortem if I can get the address too.’
‘I’ve just pinged it over with all the information we have.’
That was just the break they needed. She hit the steering wheel, whispering ‘yes’ under her breath. A tear slid down her cheek. A break in the case and a chink in her armour, all in the same day. What had the people of Cleevesford been saying about her? No one knew anything, or did they?
Chapter Twenty-One
One, two, three. Matches – my gift to them.
I stare into a dark corner until my mind’s eye becomes stronger. I see me, but not the me I see when I look at my reflection. I visualise the roaring lion and I know I’m doing the right thing. My plans have been simmering away for a long time. Only now do I get to follow them through. Finally, I am no longer invisible. There’s only one person I need to see me for who I am – and she will. Someone has to understand me and be on my side.
My letter didn’t arrive with the press today. I’ve no doubt that if it had, the newspapers would be full of it and DI Harte would want to know me. I wonder if she received her letter. I want to shake her and say, ‘DI Harte, you are not safe. No one is safe. Terry showed you how vulnerable you really are. I need you to remember. Nothing good comes of letting a painful past go. Embrace it, let it be your strength, your fight, your edge. Wake up, DI Harte.’
I love the papers. The urban legend of the lovesick murdering ghost has been well planted. Let them think that if they want.
I close my eyes and inhale slowly.
I watch.
I wait.
I am coming.
These words are just for you, Gina.
I creep along the floor of my attic room, trying not to make