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  Hunted

  Dividing Line Series #7

  By Heather Atkinson

  Copyright Heather Atkinson September 2014

  Acknowledgement

  Thank you for downloading my book, I hope you enjoy it. Also thanks to my mum Stephanie for her love, support and proofreading abilities, to my little sister and fellow author Suzanne Clark and my lovely husband Paul for their continued love and support. Also thanks to my dad, Tony, and my gorgeous little girls Charlotte and Sophie for being there.

  I would like to take this opportunity to say thank you to everyone for the amazing support and reviews I’ve received from those of you who enjoy my work. It really does mean so much to me, especially as I am a self-published author fighting to get noticed in an extremely competitive market.

  Also thanks to Alice Cooper and his song Poison, which not only introduced me to heavy metal music but was also my inspiration for the character Jules Parker/Maguire, who burst into my imagination in a big and lively way.

  For your information, the Abercraig estate and whisky mentioned in this book is entirely fictional.

  Heather Atkinson September 2014.

  CHAPTER 1

  “How many more times?” said Ryan, voice as hard and unyielding as granite. “We do not know who that body is in our back garden.”

  “It’s true,” said Rachel. She looked to Detective Inspector Boyle of Devon and Cornwall Police. “Ashley, this is nothing to do with us, I swear.”

  Ashley sighed and pulled his fingers through his strawberry blond hair. “Please understand both of you, I’m only trying to do my job and I have to ask these questions. I’m not accusing you of anything.”

  “That body has been under the ground for years, any idiot can tell that just by looking at it,” said Ryan, spitting out each word like a bullet. “It was buried long before we got here and you know it. Now do what you have to do and let us get on with our lives.”

  “I’m so sorry Ashley but you can understand what a shock this has been,” said Rachel, throwing Ryan a warning glance, telling him to cool it.

  “Yes, of course,” he replied, “but I have a job to do and I’m going to do it properly. I’ve no wish to upset you but that body was once a living, breathing individual with family who are no doubt desperate for news of them, so I’m going to do my best to find out who they are.”

  Ryan thought of Tracey Baxter, manageress of their beauty salon whose brother was missing, and was chastened. That body could be his. “I’m sorry okay, but we’ve had a bad time of it lately. We want to get on with our lives so this is the last thing we need.”

  Ashley’s eyes flicked to the scar on Rachel’s neck. “I understand completely and you’re right, the pathologist puts this body as being here for several years, long before you moved in. Have you had any contact with the previous owners since you bought this house, err, the Allingtons?” he said, checking his notes.

  “None,” replied Rachel. “They emigrated to France.”

  “Did they leave any contact details?”

  “Yes but I’m not sure where they are. We’ve packed up a lot of stuff for the move. I’ll have to dig them out.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you would. I’m afraid this house is now a crime scene and will be for quite a while. We need to check there aren’t any more bodies buried here.”

  “Oh marvellous,” sighed Ryan.

  Rachel was as disheartened as Ryan looked. Their new start had been destroyed by an entirely new horror. She felt the desperate urge to get away. “Ashley,” she began, “we’ve invested in an estate in Aberdeenshire. Would you object if we went there for a few days? There’s going to be a lot of focus on us when this comes out and we’re so tired of being the centre of attention.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d stay in the area for a bit longer.”

  “Surely you don’t think…”

  “No I don’t but we’re investigating a murder. I can’t let you leave yet.”

  “Ashley…”

  “I’m sorry Rachel but I can’t break the rules for you,” he said firmly.

  Rachel shut her mouth before she said something she’d regret. Ashley had a crush on her and she had hoped to use it to her advantage, but he was less pliable than she’d thought. He was quite young for a DI, cute almost with his tie askew and his cheap, ill-fitting suit. Her incorrect assumption that she could twist him round her little finger was proving to be a vain one.

  Ashley got to his feet. “Well, I’d better get out there, see if there’s been any developments. Please dig out those contact details for me ASAP,” he said before exiting via the back door into what was to be their rear courtyard but was now a busy crime scene.

  “Why are we going to Aberdeenshire?” said Ryan. “I am in no mood for the skirted fool.”

  “His name is Thane, he’s our business partner and it’s a kilt,” she replied, “and wasn’t the point of investing so we could have a bolthole to run to when the going got tough?”

  “I suppose,” he said through tight lips.

  “The kids and Mum and Dad are itching to see the estate, they’ll love it. We can also check on the progress of The Steadings. I know you love seeing a good business plan come to fruition.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Yes, I admit I do. Fine, we’ll go, as soon as we get permission of course,” he glowered.

  “Good. I’ll call Thane and warn him.”

  “Oh no you don’t, I’ll deal with him. If you call he’ll only proposition you again.”

  She held up her hands. “If that’s what you want. I’m just relieved Ashley realises that body is nothing to do with us. With our past histories I wouldn’t have been surprised if he did.”

  “Neither would I.”

  Rachel gazed out of the window to watch the body being carefully loaded into the back of a waiting ambulance, mercifully concealed in a black bag. “Who do you think it is?”

  “My best guess is it’s one of the missing men and if so it proves the serial killer theory. No way that’s suicide.”

  Rachel shuddered. “Don’t say that.”

  “Well, what’s your theory?”

  “Maybe they fell in when the concrete was being poured?”

  “And no one noticed?” he said, amused by the idea. “Yes, I’m sure that’s it.”

  “Sarky bugger,” she muttered.

  Ryan frowned out of the kitchen window. “Look at them out there, scurrying about like rats. How I hate police.”

  “Ashley’s alright. He’s one of the good ones. There are decent police officers you know.”

  “It amazes me that you can say that after Benton.” Rachel looked pained at the mention of the man who’d murdered her first husband and tried to kill her and he kicked himself. “Sorry sweetheart, I wasn’t thinking. All those uniforms out there are addling my brain. I’ll call Thane while I still have command of my faculties.” He looked regretfully around the beautiful brand new country kitchen they’d carefully selected. “Shame though, I was looking forward to settling back in here.”

  “Me too,” she said sadly.

  They frowned at each other when the sound of raised voices drifted in to them from outside. They headed for the front door but it was opened by a young WPC before they could reach it.

  “There’s a woman outside demanding to be let in. She won’t take no for an answer.”

  “What does she look like?” said Ryan.

  “Small, blond, mouthy.”

  “Hello Dee,” Rachel called. “Let her in,” she told the WPC.

  “About bloody time,” said Dolores loudly, pushing her way in past the WPC, a wheezy Vince trailing behind her. “This lot said we weren’t allowed in, that it was a crime scene. I told them crime scene be beggared, if my friends ha
ve been hurt I need to see them. Then they said they hadn’t been hurt they…I mean you…were fine, so I said why can’t I see them and they said…”

  “Jesus woman, will you shut that gob of yours for one second. I need to sit down,” wheezed Vince.

  “Oh sorry love. You sit down,” she said, escorting him through to the lounge and settling him on the couch.

  “You okay Vince?” said Ryan, concerned.

  “Just need…to get my breath back.” Vince suffered from emphysema, which was why he and Dolores had made the move from Manchester, so he could benefit from the fresh Devonshire air.

  “It’s the fault of those bloody fools out there arguing the toss,” said Dolores, waving her arms angrily at the window. “What’s going on here?”

  “The builders found a body under the remains of the annex,” said Rachel.

  “Body? A human body?” said Dolores, stunned.

  “The police wouldn’t come out here for a dead hedgehog,” said Rachel dryly.

  “Sorry, stupid question. Who is it?”

  “We don’t know. It’s been there a few years, before we moved in,” she was sure to point out.

  “I wonder if it’s one of the missing men?” said Vince.

  Rachel glanced at Ryan. “That’s just what we were wondering.”

  “It’s got to be,” Vince went on. “Someone did him in and threw him in there when the foundations were being put in.”

  Dolores sighed and shook her head. “I’ve tried weaning him off those horrible crime books but he’s not having any of it. Read a nice history book I said but no…”

  “It’s one of those men, I’m telling you,” insisted Vince. “No wonder no bodies have been found until now if the killer’s chucking them under buildings.”

  “Will you stop being so ghoulish?” insisted Dolores.

  “He might have a point,” interjected Ryan.

  Dolores shivered. “I hate all this talk. So you won’t be able to move in now if you’re going to have the plod wandering about, sticking their noses in places they’re not wanted.”

  “And now we’re stuck in limbo,” sighed Rachel. “They’re checking the land for more bodies.”

  “Oh no,” said Dolores sympathetically.

  “What if there’s a body under the house?” said Vince, wide-eyed.

  “Some detective you’d make,” scoffed Dolores. “It was built three hundred years ago so, unless the killer’s immortal, I’d say there’s no poor sod buried under the house.”

  “Oh yeah,” he blushed.

  “Word will soon get round and the families of the missing will all be wondering,” said Dolores. “If they confirm it is one of them then the police will have to do something, won’t they?”

  “I wouldn’t hold my breath,” said Ryan flatly.

  CHAPTER 2

  Jules laughed maniacally as she scraped the cattle prod against the bars of the cage, the sparks lighting up her face while Leighton Parker recoiled in terror.

  “Come on Leighton, you used to be tougher than this,” she yelled. “Don’t you remember beating the crap out of me when I was a defenceless little girl?” Breathing hard with the force of her rage she cast the weapon aside. When she drew the key from her jacket pocket to unlock the door of the cage Leighton scrambled backwards, curling up into a ball in the corner and covering his face with his hands.

  She wrinkled her nose up at the smell. Usually she kept the place scrupulously clean, she didn’t want to attract any rats because the nice, respectable people in this wealthy neighbourhood might start asking questions if they noticed an infestation in the area. But the chaos caused by recent events meant she’d been a bit negligent lately. She’d brought him his food and emptied the small portable chemical toilet but both Leighton and the room needed a clean.

  Jules stepped into the cage and loomed over him. “Stop cowering you spineless piece of shit.” He released a squeal when she slapped the top of his head. “I said look at me.”

  He raised his face to hers, blue eyes sunken into the scarred flesh, ruined by her knives. He’d been handsome once but she’d destroyed all that with determined precision. The punch she delivered knocked him flat on his back.

  “You ruined my life,” she roared. “I could have been anything I wanted to be but you took any chance I had of a normal life when you used me up. Now there’s nothing left for anyone else.” She recalled Jax’s soft green eyes hungry for her and not just for her body but the whole package. She could never give him what he wanted and it was all this fucker’s fault. “I can never be normal,” she screamed. The kick caught him under the chin and he fell onto his back, groaning, eyes hazy with pleasure. “Do not make that noise,” she yelled.

  Abruptly Leighton went silent, watching her pace the cage with his sly blue eyes, the only sound her angry breathing. Slowly he pushed himself up onto all fours and crawled towards her. She looked down at him coldly as he kissed first her left foot then her right. Jules jammed the toe of her boot under his chin, forcing him up onto his knees. “Why do I keep you alive?”

  “Because you don’t want to kill me,” he replied in his hoarse voice, weak from lack of use. Jules was his only opportunity for conversation.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Some days I do, some days I don’t. You won’t do it.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “You need me Jules and you hate it. My little girl, my love.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” she snapped.

  “Don’t leave me,” he called pathetically when she made for the door of the cage.

  She stopped and turned. “What did you say?”

  “I’ve been alone for days. Better to have you here hurting me than to be on my own again.”

  Jules shook her head and released a low, humourless laugh. “How the mighty have fallen. It used to be me locked in this cage when I’d been a bad girl, along with the others.” She fixed him with a malevolent glare. “This is punishment for your transgressions Leighton.”

  “I’m your father Jules. Don’t forget it.”

  “You are not my father. He’s dead and I killed him.”

  He stared at her with triumph in those unnerving, sunken blue eyes. Despite how low she’d brought him he still had his rebellious moments, but she knew he only worked her up into a frenzy to get her to stay with him. This was the first time she’d let her anger get the better of her and become loose-lipped. Terry Maguire was her biological father and she’d murdered him, slipped a needle between his toes when he was laid up in hospital.

  “I knew it,” he said quietly.

  “Count yourself fucking lucky you’re still alive.”

  “And what a life it is.”

  “Aren’t you grateful?” she hissed.

  “For being locked in a cage?”

  “Now you know what it feels like.”

  “I didn’t keep you locked up for two years.”

  “I wish you had, it would have been preferable to what happened to me when I was let out. I don’t think I can even have kids thanks to you and your depraved friends, I nearly died because of all the blood you made me haemorrhage. I was thirteen,” she yelled. She raised her fist to strike him again, making him cower, but the urge to hurt him had dissipated. She’d been doing it for two years and it had lost its appeal. Instead tears rolled down her face. “You were my dad.”

  He dragged himself up to a sitting position, one arm cradling his aching ribs. “I still am my little girl. Stop all this now and we can be like we used to be.”

  Jules had lied when she’d said she had only ever loved one person, her adopted little sister, Cara. She used to love this man fiercely too when she thought he was her daddy, her protector. She and Alice had never really got along, Jules had hated her need for everything and everyone around her to always be neat and perfect. Leighton had defended her against Alice, taken her side, spoilt her rotten. She’d expected to spend her thirteenth birthday with her friends and adopted family havi
ng a party. Instead she’d spent it tethered naked and heartbroken to the bed while her daddy’s friends ravaged her, Leighton looking on, ignoring her screams for him to save her. It felt as though it had only happened yesterday. She’d never recovered from the hurt and devastation.

  Determinedly she wiped the tears from her eyes on the back of her hand while he continued to speak in the soft, gentle voice she associated with him when he was her daddy, the voice she loved.

  “You don’t need to go on like this princess. I can help. Just let me out and we can be a family again…”

  He abruptly stopped talking when she drew one of the blades from the sheaths strapped to her arms and pressed it to his throat. Jules didn’t know why she continued torturing herself like this. When he’d gone on the run after the fire that had almost killed his wife Jules had started tracking him, but he’d proved to be more resourceful and elusive than she’d anticipated and it had taken her years to finally find him. She’d tracked him to a small village in Cornwall and had gone there full of determination to kill him, after inflicting a lot of pain on him first. After beating the living shit out of him she’d found herself unable to finish him off, despite how desperate she was to wipe him off the face of the earth. Instead she’d stuffed him into the boot of her car, bleeding and injured, and brought him back to Manchester. He’d been in the cage ever since. Over the intervening years she’d come to realise she was unable to finish him off because she still loved him, the daddy she’d once adored, until he’d destroyed her innocence in the most brutal way possible.

  She’d made many aborted attempts to kill him - she’d tried to stab him, shoot him, batter his head in with a crowbar. Once she’d even laced his food with poison but every effort had failed when she found herself unable to go through with it. It would be much simpler if she could kill him then dispose of him nice and quietly but something inside her always stopped her and she couldn’t figure out why. The idea of discussing it with Cassandra briefly flitted through her mind. Everything a therapist was told was confidential, but she was taking no chances. She’d got herself hopelessly knotted in this nightmare and only she could find a way out, but there was no end in sight. Instead of getting the spectacular revenge she’d planned she was now lumbered with this pathetic wreck who she took her frustrations out on with regular beatings, some of which he actually seemed to enjoy, to her revulsion.