Desolate Hearts Page 2

  The DCI groaned again before taking a gulp from the pint of Guinness. 'I'll probably end up breaking my leg… or worse,' he complained.

  'Well, perhaps next time you'll keep your mouth closed when it snows,' Suzanne said.

  Jackie leaned forwards in her seat, resting one elbow on the table, her black hair shining in the now-muted, overhead lights. 'If you need a hand with any of the baking tomorrow, Sue, I could help,' she offered.

  'That would be great, but are you sure?'

  'Positive, I mean, it's good of you to invite me for Christmas dinner, so it's the least I can do.'

  Suzanne looked relieved at the offer, her smile widening. 'Thanks, Jackie, the truth is I'm not the greatest baker in the world…'

  'I'm the culinary expert in our house,' Bannister bragged.

  Suzanne rolled her eyes. 'Last year he baked a Christmas cake and now he thinks he's Gordon Ramsey.'

  'Well, they share the same temper,' Lasser commented.

  Bannister glared across the table. 'What are you waffling on about, I'm nothing like that foul-mouthed bugger!'

  'Just like twins,' Lasser lit the touch paper and eased back into his seat, watching Bannister's face glow with escalating anger.

  'Piss off, I…'

  When Suzanne thumped his arm, his eyes shot wide in surprise. 'What was that for?' he asked in genuine dismay.

  'Language,' she replied, with a stern look in her eyes.

  'But he started it, he…'

  'My God, you sound like a ten-year-old, the only person you are embarrassing is yourself,' she interrupted.

  Lasser nodded in agreement and Jackie raised her glass to hide the smile as Bannister looked suitably chastised.

  Then his eyes flicked to Lasser and the anger roared back onto his face. 'Look at him, he's grinning at me, he knows what he's done!'

  One or two people on the dance floor glanced over as Bannister's voice rose.

  Suzanne looked at Lasser, but his face was set in a butter-wouldn't-melt look.

  'I tell you, Jackie, it's like having an enfant terrible for a husband,' she said with a sigh.

  Jackie nodded, her smile growing wider.

  'But look at him – Mr Goody-Two-Shoes – sat there smirking,' Bannister complained.

  'Right, time to get you home,' Suzanne said as she stood up.

  'But…'

  'You have thirty seconds to move or I'll leave without you and you can explain to Kelly and Belle why you can't take them sledging in the morning.'

  Bannister folded his arms in a sulk and then a sly smile slipped onto his face. 'OK, if Jackie's helping with the baking then he can come sledging with me and the girls,' he said, jabbing a finger towards Lasser.

  'Love to.'

  Bannister's smile fell from his beer-infused mug. 'What did you say?'

  'It's been years since I went sledging, and it'll be worth it to see you puffing and blowing back up the hill.'

  '''Puffing and blowing''!' Bannister spluttered.

  Suzanne sighed again, before tapping her husband on the shoulder. 'Come on, Eddie the Eagle, I'm waiting.'

  Bannister rose from the chair, his face once again full of anger. 'Arsehole,' he muttered under his breath, glaring at Lasser, as Suzanne led him away like a naughty schoolboy.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, Jackie giggled and Lasser grinned.

  'Do you think he'll be put to bed without any supper?' she asked.

  'I doubt it, he'll probably…'

  When the thump came on the window at their backs they both turned to find Bannister with his face almost touching the glass. 'My house, no later than half-eight!' he bellowed.

  Lasser raised a hand in acknowledgment and then Suzanne appeared and led him away, his feet slithering and sliding in the thick white snow.

  'Do you fancy going back to the boat?' Jackie whispered into his ear.

  Lasser looked into her coffee-coloured eyes and felt his heart quicken as he marvelled at the way she made him feel.

  They had only been seeing one another for a couple of months and yet in some strange way it felt as if they had been together forever, soulmates.

  Two minutes later, they were walking down the street, the air freezing, yet inside Lasser felt all aglow as she slipped her arm through his.

  Their feet crunched in the snow, the air hushed as their breath flowed out around them. Coloured Christmas lights twinkled in the shop windows, the council had even got in on the act, strings of bright lights had been draped across the street from one lamppost to the next, adding to the yuletide feel.

  Suddenly, he came to a halt and Jackie turned and looked up at him, a curious expression on her face.

  'You OK? she asked.

  'I love you,' he said before he had time to consider the words.

  Standing on tiptoes, she brushed her soft lips across his and smiled. 'I love you too,' she replied.

  Wrapping her in his arms, he gave her a hug and then they were walking again, Lasser on cloud nine as the snow drifted down from the black night sky.

  2

  Flakes fell silently through the trees, adding to the blanket of virgin white that smothered the uneven ground.

  Pulling hard on the cigarette, the man let the smoke out on a shivering sigh as a clump of snow fell from the branches above, landing with a muted thump at his feet. He stood on the periphery of the ancient woods, searching his mind for any hint of the remembered pain, or the voice that whispered in his head, when he found none he sighed in relief. In the distance, he could just make out the twinkling lights of the town centre, shimmering behind the falling snow. Plucking the cigarette from his lips, he studied the glowing ember for a moment before tossing the stump to one side.

  Moving to the edge of the trees, he looked towards the new moon glowing in the darkness and smiled. He felt the cold air freeze his cheeks, his breath billowing out in a pale grey ectoplasm of warm air.

  Fat flakes fell onto his upturned face, and he opened his mouth, poking out his tongue just like he had done as a child, his face split with a grin when he felt the snow fall onto his tongue before melting away.

  Lowering his head, he breathed in through his nose, the icy blast leaving his eyes sparkling with moisture.

  Turning, he stalked back through the trees, his feet ploughing through the snow as he made his way towards the van parked on the woodland track.

  Reaching inside, he retrieved the delving spade. The blade gleamed as he rested it on his shoulder, like a soldier on parade presenting arms, before he made his way back through the trail of his own making.

  By the time he reached the edge of the woods he had another cigarette on the go, the smoke mixing with his breath, weaving around the snowflakes that continued to fall.

  Coming to a halt, he looked down to his right, the young man lay on his back, slowly sinking through the snow as the last bit of heat in his body melted the snow beneath him. His grey face sprinkled with white, eyes open and sightless, the mouth – stretched wide in a silent scream of agony – gathering snow on the cold, dead flesh.

  Taking his time with the cigarette, he continued to study the dead man, his unruly ginger hair looked frozen and brittle, his hands formed into claws of suffering. The side of his head was shattered, the greasy ooze of brain matter leaked between shards of white bone that protruded, sharp, through blood-soaked hair. He recalled the moment of impact, bright red blood spraying onto the snow-clad ground as the man's startled eyes lost focus and, with a muffled noise, he dropped.

  Taking another pull on the cigarette, he turned his gaze back to the open fields of white. It felt bizarre but one insane moment had turned into a blessed relief. As the smoke trailed from his nostrils he tried to fathom why the death of this total stranger had removed all the pain from his stupefied brain.

  His brow furrowed, the snow gathering on his head and shoulders as he tried to unlock the conundrum.

  The man with the carrot-coloured hair had asked if he wanted any help and the next th
ing he was sprawled on the ground, his life's blood staining the snow, removing the pain and confusion from his brain in an instant.

  With a sigh, he dropped the half-smoked cigarette to the ground before lifting the spade from his shoulder. He looked down, unsure how to proceed, then he started to clear a patch in the snow. Seconds later, the keen blade slid easily into the dark earth, sliding it free he moved slightly left and sunk the blade back into the soil.

  Five minutes later, the hole was dug, he stepped back and frowned, almost a foot deep and fifteen inches square.

  'What good is that?' he murmured to himself.

  'Dispose　of　the　body　in　chunks,'　his crystal-clear mind proclaimed with confidence.

  The man looked around the immediate area in confusion, expecting to find the owner of the voice amongst the trees.

  'You　know　it　makes　sense,'　the voice sighed.

  He thought for a moment before turning back to the body, the face had now vanished beneath a milk-white covering. Stepping forwards, he placed the blade across the dead man's throat, raised his right foot and then paused, his body starting to shake with the unreality of what he had done.

  'What　are　you　waiting　for?'

  'I…'

  'DO　IT!'　the voice roared.

  The man gasped before slamming his right foot down, his face rigid with horror as the head was sliced cleanly from the body, dark blood oozed marring the white.

  'Look　at　the　red!' the voice inside giggled.

  Lifting the spade, he studied the smeared blade before licking his lips nervously, then he tapped the head towards the hole with the toe of his boot.

  Slowly an uncertain smile crept onto his face as he continued to nudge the head across the snow leaving a spattering of red in its wake. When it dropped into the hole he felt like punching the air in delight.

  The face looked up at him, the eyes and mouth now flecked with dark earth.

  Taking a spadeful of the freshly-dug soil he leaned down but then paused, his brow creased as the blade hovered above the hole.

  'Wait.　I　have　a　better　idea,' the voice inside suddenly hissed.

  The man listened intently as the words seeped into his mind, words that made promises.

  'No　more　pain.'

  He nodded, the spade still hovering above the hole.

  'Make　them　all　pay.'

  'Yes.'

  'Especially　her!'

  'God, yes!'

  'But　in　the　meantime,　we　can　have　some　fun.'

  Slowly he straightened, the spade scattering earth to the ground as he tried to comprehend the words.

  When the voice started again, he listened, the frown slowly vanishing, replaced by a tentative smile, it made sense, of course he would have to be careful. But imagine the buzz, watching the authorities running around like brainless zombies.

  'Fun　and　games!' the voice suddenly whispered with glee.

  Reaching down, he grabbed the mass of frizzy, ginger hair and lifted the head from the hole. Holding it up, he studied the face, the spade now resting in the soft snow.

  The question was, where should he plant the head?

  He remained unmoving, the snow falling heavier now as he tried to decide on the place that would offer maximum impact.

  By the time he picked the spade up and walked back towards the van, the body on the ground was already beneath a covering of snow.

  As he drove away, he started to whistle, pain-free and full of a new-found purpose.

  3

  Sliding the key into the lock, Odette pushed the door open before clicking on the lights and dropping her backpack to the floor.

  Craig followed her into the apartment, his thick dark hair – wet with melted snow – curled along the collar of his waterproof jacket as he looked around the room.

  'This is a nice place,' he said admiringly as he quietly closed the door behind him.

  Sliding the zipper down on her jacket, Odette smiled. 'Glad you like it. Now, I'm gasping for a coffee, do you fancy one?' she asked.

  Hoisting the pack from his shoulder, he nodded. 'I'd love one, but I thought we were going to your work's Christmas party?'

  Odette glanced at the clock on the wall. 'Truth is, it's getting late and it'll be winding up in the next hour, the drive down took longer than I thought it would with the bad weather, so I'd sooner just have a brew and relax if that's OK with you?'

  Placing his bag on the floor, he moved towards her and took hold of the ends of her scarf before pulling her close. 'Whatever you want to do is fine by me, I'm here till the New Year, so I'll have plenty of chances to meet your friends.'

  Dipping his head, he kissed her, and she eased away, feeling the heat in her cheeks rise.

  'Tea or coffee?'

  'Whatever's easiest for you,' he replied, walking over to the large window that looked out onto the snow-smothered town.

  Odette went through to the small, open kitchen area and flicked the kettle on.

  'I'm used to plenty of snow in the Lakes, but I guess this is relatively new to you?' he pondered, looking down at the canal he could see a solitary figure moving along the white towpath with a small terrier dashing around its owner's feet in hectic circles. Several barges were moored to the bank, one or two had lights burning in the circular windows, smoke trailing up from stunted metal chimneys.

  Lifting two cups from the cupboard, Odette placed them on the worktop before spooning in the coffee and crossing the room to look out at the view.

  'You'd be surprised, we've had quite a bit of snow over the last couple of years.'

  Slipping his arm across her shoulder, he smiled. 'Neat view though.'

  Odette could see the occasional taxi on the ring road, no doubt heading into town to drop off a fare before searching for another reveller in need of transport.

  'When I first arrived here I thought it would only be for a few weeks, and that was almost three years ago now,' she said, wondering where the time had gone.

  'I guess after working in a large city like Manchester this place seemed a little on the quiet side?'

  Odette glanced at him and then shook her head. 'You'd think so, but truth is I've been involved in more serious crimes here than I ever was in Manchester.'

  'So, you decided to stay and clean up the mean streets?' he asked.

  Odette looked into his dark-brown eyes, searching for any hint of irony as his hand tightened slightly on her shoulder.

  'You soon learn in this job that you can never clean up the streets, all you can do is empty the bins now and again.'

  'It's a tough world out there,' he replied, turning his attention back to the view, a sliver of a smile curling his lips.

  The kettle clicked off and she backtracked to the kitchen to make the drinks.

  As she poured hot water into the cups, her phone beeped, and she pulled it from her pocket before opening the fridge door to get at the milk.

  Lifting the carton out, she paused and tapped at the screen with her thumb, smiling as she read the message from Lasser wishing her a happy Christmas and hoping she'd had a nice break in the Lakes.

  'Someone checking up on why you haven't made the party?' Craig asked as he walked up behind her.

  Pocketing the phone, she added a splash of milk into each cup. 'Just a colleague wishing me a happy Christmas,' she replied, placing the carton of milk back into the fridge and closing the door.

  Handing the cup over, they made their way back into the living room and settled on the sofa.

  Odette placed her cup on the small coffee table before unlacing her boots and pulling them off with a sigh.

  'How are the blisters?'

  'Easier,' she replied, retrieving the cup and taking a sip.

  'Perhaps we shouldn't have tackled Helvellyn yesterday, it's a tough old climb at the best of times and…'

  'The blisters are because the boots are new. Once I've broken them in they'll be fine.'

  Craig nodded
in understanding, his eyes watching the snow as it drifted past the window.

  'Are you sure you'll be OK finding things to do while I'm at work?' she asked.

  'Oh, I'll be fine. I did some research on the countryside around here and I've always wanted to take a closer look at the Pennines. So, I can head out early and be back in time to cook you a nice meal when you finish work.'

  Stifling a yawn, Odette stretched out her long legs and eased her head back into the sumptuous cushion. 'That's sounds nice but be warned – don't cook anything that will dry out.'

  'Meaning once you walk out that door you have no idea what time you'll be back?' he enquired.

  'Afraid so. Sometimes you get lucky and have a quiet time, but if anything major comes up you can be out of the house for what seems like days.'

  'Days?' he frowned in surprise.

  Odette smiled and nodded 'So, keep your fingers crossed that we have a peaceful Christmas out there,' she pointed towards the window, her eyes starting to grow heavy as the central heating took its toll.

  'Listen, is it OK if I grab a shower and hit the sack?'

  'Of course it is, the bathroom's on the right, and there are clean towels in the airing cupboard.'

  Craig tilted the cup and drank the coffee in one long swallow. 'Care to join me?' he asked with eyebrow raised.

  Lifting her feet onto the coffee table she shook her head. 'Too tired.'

  Leaning over, he kissed her cheek before rising and heading across the room.

  Odette watched as he vanished into the bathroom and then her eyes were drawn back to the window, a slight frown plucking at her brow as she lifted out her phone and retrieved Lasser's message.

  Reading it twice, she felt a strange sense of loss, knowing that things had changed and would never be the same again.

  She heard the shower start up and looked at Craig's cup on the coffee table.

  They had met about three months previously in the Lakes, and this was the first time he had come down to stay with her in Wigan. Now, she sat and listened to the shower and wondered if she was doing the right thing bringing someone back to her sanctuary after only knowing them a short time.