Читать книгу: «Dead Wrong»

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One: Lorraine

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One: Yvonne

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chapter Sixty-Three: Veronica

Chapter Sixty-Four

Chapter Sixty-Five

Chapter Sixty-Six

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Chapter Seventy

Chapter Seventy-One

Chapter Seventy-Two

Chapter Seventy-Three

Chapter Seventy-Four

Chapter Seventy-Five

Chapter Seventy-Six

Chapter Seventy-Seven

Chapter Seventy-Eight

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Chapter Eighty

Chapter Eighty-One

Chapter Eighty-Two: Francine

Chapter Eighty-Three

Chapter Eighty-Four

Chapter Eighty-Five

Chapter Eighty-Six

Chapter Eighty-Seven

Chapter Eighty-Eight

Chapter Eighty-Nine

Chapter Ninety

Chapter Ninety-One

Chapter Ninety-Two: One Week Later

Chapter Ninety-Three

Chapter Ninety-Four

Acknowledgements

A Note from Noelle

About the Author

Also by Noelle Holten

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE
Lorraine

‘So – are you dangerous?’ Lorraine danced around the hall playfully. He frowned; to her he looked unsure whether she was serious or flirting. The party had been epic, and she was still buzzing from all the cocaine in her system.

‘Nice place you have here.’ She ran a finger along the hall mirror and smiled at her reflection. The house had an old-fashioned feel to it – wooden floors covered with well-worn rugs, cream-coloured walls and a strange-looking bookshelf that seemed out of place in a hall.

Tilting his head, he stared directly into her eyes. ‘Do I look dangerous?’ He caressed her arm; the goose bumps rose on her skin and she wondered whether he was toying with her. Her body shivered with excitement.

‘You seem OK to me. Can’t be too safe these days though.’

‘’Course not, sweetheart. But I’m a pussy cat. Can’t you tell?’ He placed his hand on her elbow and began directing her towards the stairs. He smelled of one of those nice deodorant sprays, not as pungent as cologne.

A knock on the front door made them stop.

‘Are you expecting company?’ She pouted her lips, hoping that he would get rid of whoever it was quickly.

‘Only you, love. Have a seat through there,’ he pointed to the living room, ‘and make yourself comfortable. I’ll take care of this.’

She watched him as he made his way to the front door.

He looked through the peep hole, his hands clenching into fists, his body stiffening. ‘What the fuck?’ He muttered and stepped outside. Although she heard raised voices, she couldn’t make out what was being said or whether the mystery visitor was a man or a woman.

Wonder what that’s about? She didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping, and when she entered the living room and saw the bag of white powder on the table, she knew what she would prefer to do. Lorraine walked over to the couch, sat down and made herself comfortable.

Within ten minutes, he returned to the room.

‘Everything OK?’ She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

‘Yeah, fine. Shall we get this party started?’ He sat down beside her and caressed her leg.

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.

CHAPTER TWO

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.

CHAPTER THREE

‘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?’

‘I’m on the afternoon shift for the next few days, so I’m just going to chill this morning. My work rota for this month is all over the place.’ He scratched his head. ‘You sure you’re OK? Don’t worry about that guy, he’ll get his comeuppance.’

‘Easier said than done, but thanks – I’m sorry for snapping. Look, I’ll see you in the morning, OK?’ Maggie grabbed what she would need for the day, put her coat on and headed to the door. ‘Make sure you lock this when you leave and don’t forget to let out Scrappy.’ She didn’t wait for an answer.

CHAPTER FOUR

Maggie looked at her watch. She had some spare time and decided to walk the twenty minutes to the train station rather than jumping on the bus. With Andy using her car for work these days, public transport gave her the opportunity to get some exercise.

The train was packed with morning commuters, each in their own little world. She stared out the window – always amazed at the beauty of the surrounding rural landscape. Long grass filled with wildflowers and edged with brambles whooshed past as she rested her head against the glass.

When she arrived at Stafford train station, Maggie had a leisurely stroll through Victoria Park and headed over the footbridge towards the centre of town. The familiar quacks of ducks sounded like mischievous laughter. Fifteen minutes later, she walked into the police station, her mind still buzzing with news stories about Bill Raven’s recent appeal.

Maggie stopped short when she nearly bumped into her colleague, PC Bethany Lambert. She apologized, walked over to her desk and dropped her bag on the floor.

‘What’s eating you?’ Bethany raised an eyebrow.

‘Haven’t you seen the news? That arsehole is all over it. Since when did he get a personality transplant and elocution lessons?’ Maggie rolled her eyes. ‘What happened to the unshaven, gaunt, incoherent man I interviewed over two years ago? If they hadn’t had his name on the screen, I would never have recognized him.’

‘Look, maybe getting clean and taking the medication has worked? It’s possible …’

‘What the hell? Are you on his side?’ Maggie’s brows snapped together.

‘No. I’m just looking at everything objectively. We’re trying to focus on the actual killer, and if DI Rutherford heard the way you were talking, she’d shoot you down in a nanosecond. I know how you feel about all this, we all know how you feel about this, but you need to let your personal views go and focus on the evidence. He couldn’t have done it – he was behind bars when the murder was committed.’

‘Then tell me how he knew the name of the first victim, Lorraine Rugman?’

Bethany just shook her head.

‘Great …’ Maggie turned her back to Bethany and started up her computer.

‘Pull your big girl pants up and stop feeling sorry for yourself.’

Maggie would let that go. She knew deep down that Bethany and the whole team had her back. Bethany was right – Maggie was feeling sorry for herself.

‘Look, I’m sorry. I just would’ve liked a bit more support.’

‘Now that’s not fair. We all know why you arrested him – no one is questioning that. But we need to lock that away for the time being and focus on who is responsible for the recent killing. Clearly Lorraine Rugman and possibly the other two missing women, Yvonne Greene and Zoe Bridle, weren’t even dead at the time he confessed. They could still be alive for all we know.’

Maggie rubbed her forehead and imagined two women tied up somewhere, locked away for years, without anyone even looking for them. A chill ran down her spine.

Someone coughed and they turned to see DI Rutherford standing in the doorway. She glanced between them and swallowed. ‘They’re saying it was a false confession. That the police coerced it out of him, taking advantage of his mental illness and drug-induced psychosis.’ Rutherford paused, perhaps thinking that Maggie might interrupt, but she held back. ‘Mr Raven has agreed to speak to us in prison, to try and help us piece together what happened. To explain his reasoning and how he knew the name of the first victim. Before we start jumping to any conclusions, let’s wait to hear what he has to say, OK Maggie?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Her jaw tightened. She’d almost forgotten DI Rutherford’s ability to get under her skin.

Maggie needed to settle back into her team and her DI’s way of working after having been seconded for nearly a year to the Domestic Abuse and Homicide Unit. She had forged some meaningful friendships at the DAHU and was really impressed with the multi-agency approach. It was her intention to use this model, as much as her DI would allow, within this team. It just took one thing to blow a case open and Maggie didn’t want to mess up just because the police were sometimes too precious to ask for assistance from other agencies.

The current detective sergeant of her team was on long-term sick leave and had yet to be replaced. DI Rutherford hinted that she was hoping Maggie would apply for the Acting Up position, but it just wasn’t going to happen. She enjoyed the operational side of her job, being in the thick of things and using her brain to piece the puzzle together. Ridiculous targets, politics and a lack of resources within the force would frustrate the hell out of her. She had encouraged her partner, Nathan Wright, to go for the post, but he seemed to be of the same frame of mind as her, or so she had thought.