She doesn’t answer him. Her head saws back and forth. Another scream escapes her lips, this one longer and more piercing now her brain has had time to process and embellish whatever caused her screams.
I catch the mother’s eye. ‘Where was Harriet when she first screamed?’
She points at a seat cut from a tree stump.
‘Wait here, please.’ I walk over to the seat, conscious of the fact that if Oberton has been killed, this family is next in the killer’s sights.
Standing by the lump of rough-hewn wood, I rotate through three sixty degrees but find nothing. I stoop until my head is at much the same height as Harriet’s would have been. I repeat my sweep.
Still I see no cause for her terror.
Thinking like a pre-teen, I climb onto the seat and stand on its highest part.
Before gaining enough balance to straighten up, I see the cause of her terror. The sight of Angus Oberton’s mutilated body elicits a sharp gasp from me, despite the fact I’m expecting to find something horrible.
It’s bad, as savage as Kira’s death, with none of the finesse shown to Evie Starr.
Oberton is in a kneeling position. His head is three quarters severed from his body. A flap of skin holds it upside down with his nose pressed against his breastbone.
Below the white stubble on his head a large gash has opened his stomach. Blood covered hands appear to have tried and failed to hold in the slippery coils of intestine.
The wooden handle of a long knife sticks out from a belly swollen by years of unhealthy eating.
I swallow the bile rising in my throat and force myself to observe every detail I can.
The only thing holding him in position is his obese frame. Even sliced open, there’s enough gut to support the rest of his body.
Lifting my eyes, I examine the stump of his neck. The bizarre hinging effect of the remaining skin is unsettling. I can see the severed remains of his spine, throat and arteries. A cloud of flies is already swarming around his head and it’s only a matter of time before other insects and animals become attracted to this unexpected buffet.
I’m unsure what to do next. I need to keep Harriet and her folks close so the rounding up of her family can start as soon as possible. I also have to make sure nobody tramples over the crime scene.
Then there’s the question of where Steve is. He could be lying dead somewhere close by or he could be in pursuit of the killer.
Plus, there’s a possible chance one of the other visitors to the reserve has seen something which could help identify the killer.
Staying on the stump chair, I pull out my cell and call the chief to break the news and seek guidance.
He doesn’t answer so I leave a message demanding he call me at once.
Harriet and her mother are being guided back towards the entrance by Olly. The move is understandable. I don’t want to be here, and I’m an adult who was expecting to find something grisly.
Jumping down, I run after them, circling round so they can all see me.
I give Olly a sideways nod. ‘Can we talk?’
He’s on the ball and understands the females in his family shouldn’t hear what I’m about to say.
‘Harriet sweetie, Daddy needs to talk with this man for a minute.’ He points to a small pool twenty yards away. ‘We’re gonna be just over there where you can see me the whole time, okay.’
There’s a sniffling nod before she buries her tear-streaked face back into the mother’s neck.
I follow him towards the pool.
‘Let’s be quick about this. I need to get her home.’
I’ve never had to break any kind of bad news before so I’m unsure of the best way to do it. Guessing it boils down to the same theory as the removal of a sticking plaster, I opt for the quick method.
‘Your daughter has just found the latest victim of a serial killer.’ My soft tone so as not to be overheard is at contrast with the hard news it delivers.
His eyes widen in disbelief and fear. ‘You mean the guy who is targeting family members of the people who find the bodies?’
Damn that Ms Rosenberg for her publicising of the killer’s selection method.
‘Yes.’ I seize the moment and use his fear to my advantage. I don’t like doing such things but sometimes it’s better to save lives than feelings. ‘You need to tell your wife and daughter and then get every member of your family who lives in or near Casperton to report to the police station as soon as humanly possible.’
‘I’ll tell them and then we’ll go and start getting the family together.’
‘No. You need to stay here where I can protect you. Call your family. Anyone who doesn’t answer will be rounded up by the police.’
Fear overtakes his features. The hand lifted to cover his mouth shakes as his body reacts to the news of the peril he and his loved ones are in.
‘Olly!’ My raised voice causes his focus to snap back onto me. ‘You need to be strong. Your wife and daughter are relying on you right now. I know it’s tough, but you have to go over there, break the news to them and then start calling the rest of your family. I’ll be within twenty paces at all times and promise to protect you until the police get here.’
Olly’s back straightens as he pulls himself together and faces up to his responsibilities as a husband and father. ‘Thank you.’
I just hope my promise isn’t put to the test. Whoever the killer is, he’s got a supply of different weapons and the knowledge of how to use them. All I’ve got is a history of bar fights and a gun locked into the trunk of a car parked a quarter mile away.
With Olly returning to his wife and daughter, I try the chief again. He answers this time.
I deliver a brief but potent report.
When he stops cursing, I ask what I should do. He tells me to look after Harriet and her parents and to make sure nobody goes near the body until he gets here. He’ll get Darla to call Steve’s cell. If there’s no answer he’ll organise a search party for him when he arrives.
I understand the chief’s torn loyalties. On one hand there’s a police officer who may be lying injured or dead, but on the other, there are members of the public who are definitely at risk.
Choosing one over the other is a gamble either way, but his sense of duty compels him to protect the public.
While I agree with his choice, I hope for Steve’s sake that if he’s unhurt he’s got an unimpeachable reason for not preventing the murder of Angus Oberton. Never mind what the chief may say to him, or the fact he could lose his job and the associated pension, if he’s been idiotic enough to fall asleep or become distracted playing on his cell, he’ll have to live with the knowledge a man has died because of his negligence.
57
Norm hands money and a false smile to the storekeeper. In the bag on the counter are four cartons of cigarettes, a copy of the Casperton Gazette’s special edition and a bag of apples.
The cigarettes aren’t for him. He doesn’t yet know who they’re for, but he knows they’ll kill whoever he gives them to. Not the long slow death of a smoker, but the sudden death of someone who has ingested a deadly poison. All he has to do is prepare the cigarettes in the correct way and introduce one or two drops of the resulting mixture into the target’s body.
The solution will be so potent it can be added to a drink or meal with fatal consequences. If the target is already a smoker, by the time a blood sample is taken, the traces will be so insignificant they’ll fail to alert even the most diligent coroner.
Driving home, Norm lifts the six-page special edition at every pause in the traffic. Skim reading the articles, he grasps the basic facts, leaving the detailed analysis for later.