Brutal Pursuit Read online

  BRUTAL PURSUIT

  A richly-woven murder mystery, full of twists

  Diane M. Dickson

  Published by

  THE BOOK FOLKS

  London, 2019

  © Diane M. Dickson

  A polite note from the publisher

  This book is written in British English except where fidelity to other languages or accents is appropriate.

  You are invited to visit www.thebookfolks.com and sign up to our mailing list to hear about new releases, free book promotions and other special offers.

  We hope you enjoy the book.

  A note from the author

  Although the general geography and the towns and districts are real, Oxford Links Golf Club and Colnburn Detention Centre exist only in my imagination.

  BRUTAL PURSUIT is the third novel by Diane Dickson to feature detective Tanya Miller and her Oxford-based criminal investigation team.

  It can be enjoyed as a standalone, but readers should also check out the first novel, BROKEN ANGEL, and the second, BURNING GREED, available FREE with Kindle Unlimited and in paperback.

  An eerie corpse dressed as a bride, a killer playing a macabre game, and a woman detective prepared to follow her instincts. Enter DI Tanya Miller, the missing persons specialist brought in to investigate the disappearance of a woman from a motorway services. Someone is playing a sick game, and she’s determined to catch him, no matter what it takes.

  http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07DTGFS1H/

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DTGFS1H/

  Other novels by Diane Dickson published by The Book Folks:

  LEAVING GEORGE

  WHO FOLLOWS

  LAYERS OF LIES

  PICTURES OF YOU

  YOU’RE DEAD

  THE GRAVE

  DEPTHS OF DECEPTION

  SINGLE TO EDINBURGH

  TWIST OF TRUTH

  TANGLED TRUTH

  BONE BABY

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  List of characters

  Other titles in this series

  Free books in your inbox

  Prologue

  When menacing clouds rolled across the open fields from Elsfield towards the Oxford Links Golf Club, Peter Baker wanted to abandon the game. Spencer Cartwright wasn’t that bothered. He was losing. Again.

  As the first great spots of rain peppered the sand in the bunkers, they knew there wouldn’t be time to get back to the clubhouse safely. Already, the crash and roil of thunder was simultaneous with the lightning. Lights had flicked on in the blocks of flats near to the car park. The wind was up, trees whipped and swayed, leaves danced and raced across the greens. Suddenly it was wild.

  They made a run for the nearest shelter. A small wooden building, out at the edge of the course; just on the border of the tree line. They could have huddled in the lee of the place, or under the small overhang of the roof, but the nearby trees were a danger. They had heard stories of electricity travelling along the ground, leaping from tree to man. It didn’t matter whether this stuff was true or urban myth, it was enough to drive them to find better cover.

  If they hadn’t been so sensible, they could have avoided the image that would torment their dreams. The smell that stuck in the back of their throats. Spencer may even have avoided the heart attack, never fully recovering from the horror. But as for the rest of it, the wheel was already in motion.

  A hasp and staple fastener, secured with a padlock, was easy to pry away from the thin wood. There was little damage, and they would pay the secretary. Not a problem.

  The stench inside was thick; cloying. A sheet of some sort was thrown down over a heap in the corner. It was stained with patches, black fading to dark red at the borders. Flies swarmed around and over it. They coated the walls in a seething mass – crawled and hovered in a layer across the ceiling. The two men batted and swatted at the insects which had been panicked by the change of light and air.

  Peter staggered back against the wooden wall and cried out in anguish as Spencer pulled back the dirty cloth. He knew already what was there; had known from the first whiff of putrefaction, from the shape of it, and from some inbuilt sixth sense.

  As the full horror was revealed Peter slid inelegantly to the floor and Spencer vomited copiously, lunchtime salmon and pinot noir blighting the crime scene as it splashed and spread around his feet and across the corpse.

  The body was naked and obviously male. It lay on its side, the knees bent upwards towards the chest, arms tucked in at the sides. The feet were bare, the hands were not there. The neck ended in a bloody stump.

  Spencer looked around, searching for the head – he could never say why. His seething brain just couldn’t accept that it was missing.

  Chapter 1

  Tanya Miller threw herself down onto the sofa in her living room and blew out a sigh. Sundays used to be okay. When she wasn’t on duty, she would have a slow morning. She would have coffee and read the papers in bed, and then breakfast out in the little garden. If it rained, she would sit at her table in the window space. There would follow either a work-out or a jog, depending on her mood and then, after a long shower she would open a bottle of wine at lunchtime, just pouring one glass and saving the rest for later. She often caught up with paperwork in the afternoon, but in the quiet of her house, clean and calm, it was okay. Weekend or not she enjoyed being on top of the work, she had to be in control of that part of her life.

  That was then.

  She glanced around the room. There were several chargers on the coffee table, the cables in tangles, cascading onto the floor. A coffee mug sat on the wooden mantlepiece, and there was a puffa jacket discarded in the corner. From upstairs came the thump, thump, thump of music, tuneless and annoying and the whole house smelled of curry flavour Pot Noodle. She closed her eyes and laid her head against the settee back. What the hell
was she going to do about Serena?

  At the end of the last case, she had been sad when Charlie Lambert, closest thing to a friend that she had ever had, finally left for his new job in Merseyside. The sadness had been tempered by the thought that she would have her space back exclusively. Charlie had been a perfect guest – quiet, tidy, and a good cook. But now, he had gone to join his wife and baby who had moved ahead of him to their new house in Liverpool. The relief had been short-lived when Serena, Tanya’s niece, had turned up at the door.

  “I can’t live at home anymore,” she had sobbed. “Dad has gone off with his secretary and Mum isn’t speaking to me.”

  There had been no choice but to take the girl in. She was damaged and fragile, recovering from being abducted and raped in Amsterdam, but Tanya had assumed it would be a couple of days, and then she could ship her off back to Fiona in Edinburgh. The marriage problems would be sorted, Serena would go into therapy or whatever and Tanya could once again ignore her relatives – apart from the odd card and present, sent out of an ever-diminishing sense of duty.

  That was a month ago. Since then there had been visits from Fiona, along with the other two children, which had been chaotic and exhausting. There had been tearful discussions, pleading and shouting, endless phone calls and face time and at the end of it all, Serena was still in the spare bedroom. Now, life was all about catching up on laundry, sorting out healthy meals; and there was a constant dull battle about keeping the place clean.

  Serena was used to having a cleaner tidying up after her constantly. Though Tanya did have Mrs Green once a week, it was no longer enough with a careless teenager, often left alone in the house. The girl was privileged and spoiled and didn’t understand the concept of clearing up after herself or helping to do the cooking and washing. Tanya was frustrated and more and more angry about the whole thing. But, when she rescued her from captivity, she had told the girl that she would be there for her. It had been a promise made in the emotion of the moment and she never really thought it would come to this. True, there was the money. It complicated things. With Tanya’s finances in a mess, the contribution from her sister was a real help. But really it was not enough to make up for the chaos that her home life was becoming.

  She drew in a breath. It had to be dealt with. Serena needed to return to some sort of normality – go back to college, back to Edinburgh and her mother. Tanya went to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine, a glass of cranberry juice for the girl, and walked out into the hallway. As her foot hit the first stair the phone on the little table chimed, vibrating across the polished surface.

  “Miller.”

  “Control here, Detective Inspector, details are being forwarded by email about the discovery of a body at the Oxford Links Golf Club. Location details and co-ordinates for your sat nav have been sent. Please attend. The scenes of crime officers have been mobilised and the medical examiner is on route.”

  “Who pronounced death?” Tanya asked.

  “Apparently, there was a GP in the clubhouse, but from what we hear there wasn’t much doubt.”

  Tanya raised her eyebrows at the cryptic comment.

  She felt the pounding of classic rock through the ceiling. Maybe a crime scene would be more peaceful than her own home at the moment. What a terrible thought.

  “Thanks. I’ll be on my way in the next few minutes.”

  She put the wine in the fridge and delivered the soft drink to Serena who was stretched out on the bed in the guest room, painting her nails.

  “I have to go into work, Serena. I don’t know how long I’ll be. Don’t go anywhere without letting me know and don’t let anyone in – there is nobody expected. Oh, and Serena, when I get back, we need to have a talk. We need to sort you out, okay?”

  “Cool.”

  The girl didn’t even bother to look up.

  Chapter 2

  It took around a half an hour on the quiet Sunday roads to reach the clubhouse. Tanya pulled into the tarmacked car park alongside an ugly block of flats. She stormed over to the uniformed officer on duty, flashed her warrant card and pointed towards the gateway. “Why is there no tape across the entrance, constable?”

  “Sorry, ma’am, I was just told to log people in and out.”

  “And how do you intend to do that when the entrance is wide open? How are you going to stop them?”

  The young policeman lowered his head and lifted his clipboard to wave it between them. “Most of the members are still inside, only a couple have left.”

  “And where do you imagine they are now?”

  “Sorry, ma’am, I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

  “Of the people who have left, where are they? There has been a body found and you have allowed people to drive away. Tell me, constable, does that seem sensible?”

  She was raging and struggling not to lose her temper. These days it was a nightmare justifying a dressing down and the easiest thing was to hold the passion in check.

  Again, he waved his clipboard at her. “I have their names and addresses, ma’am.”

  There was no point to this, she could see that, and it was wasting time. “Put some tape across the entrance, constable. Don’t let anyone else leave until I tell you it’s okay, and don’t let anyone else in. Do, however, get the details of anyone trying to gain access. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am; thank you, ma’am. Er…”

  “Problem?”

  “Well, I haven’t been given any tape. I think it’s with the SOCO team down by the hut. My mate took the squad car down there.”

  Tanya pointed to his radio and raised her eyebrows. He blushed a furious red.

  “Sort it would you, constable?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  According to the email, the body was in a small hut hidden by a stand of trees on the east side of the course. Already someone had marked out a safe route. Making sure to stay on the designated path, she stomped across the grass which had been soaked by the recent storm and then towards the first green. Here at least there had been some professional activity. Blue and white tape snapped in the wind. The medical examiner’s car was pulled onto the verge and the SOCO van stood alongside, the rear doors open.

  Another uniformed constable was on duty, but this one held up his hand as she approached. She flashed her ID and he noted her name on his chart. “Suit up please, ma’am,” he said.

  In the back of the van was a box containing suits, masks, and overshoes – Tanya helped herself. There was activity behind the trees, and she felt the familiar frisson of excitement that always shamed her a little when attending a crime scene. It wasn’t that she was unsympathetic to the victims, but this was what she lived for. The responsibility to seek out evil and extract some sort of justice for those who had come to harm. It was too late for most of them, but it was the only option left.

  There was no plastic tent. Instead, there was a folding pergola with white walls erected around the doorway to the small wooden building. As she approached, she heard Simon Hewitt issuing instructions. She felt a little flutter in her chest. She still wasn’t sure he wanted their relationship to be more than professional. However, that was what other people had told her and the idea was enough to make her awkward in his company. It wouldn’t do. She took a steadying breath and stepped into the reeking, fly-blown interior of the crime scene.

  Chapter 3

  They had set up floodlights, and behind the low hum of conversation she heard a generator rumbling amongst the trees. The hut was dirty, flies buzzed back and forth, bouncing off the lights, and she could see from the mass of black bodies on the floor that there had been more, many more. The smell was bad, and Tanya breathed through her mouth. The mask sucked inward with each inhalation. It was vile. She closed her mind to it and concentrated on her survey of the scene.

  Narrow shelves lining the walls were stacked with supplies, bottles and jerry cans. There were tools stored in a corner. The interior was draped with spider webs, and there was d
ust everywhere. It didn’t look as though the place was used regularly.

  Tanya picked out the senior scenes of crime officer. “Dave, what have we got?”

  “A bloody mess in more ways than one, Detective Inspector. As you see we’re going to have lots of evidence from the victim, except his head, which appears to have taken itself off somewhere. The hands are missing, which is not – well, not that handy?”

  It was corny and cringeworthy, but Dave Chance was known for his terrible humour and she understood. As with most first responders, it helped to get him through the awful things he dealt with. She didn’t laugh, and he hadn’t expected her to. His blue eyes sparkled behind the mask and the skin around them crinkled as he smiled at her, then he looked away, glancing around the small space.

  “It’s going to take a while. We’ll need to do a fingertip search here and outside, although, with the recent storm, that won’t throw up much I shouldn’t think. The rain has probably obliterated whatever was there. In here, well I don’t hold out much hope for fingerprints, not with this rough wood and, as you can see, it’s all pretty dirty and dusty. The floor’s been swept a bit, just a movement of the dust really but it means there’s no chance of footprints. Maybe there were some and that’s why they cleaned it. I’m waiting to hear what Doctor Hewitt has to say about the body. If the bloke was killed here, there might be something more than just his own trace evidence, but I rather imagine we’re going to be told he’s been dumped as we see him now, and that does us no favours. Oh, but we do have this.”

  He bent down and extracted an evidence bag from a plastic box on the floor. Inside was a small but hefty looking padlock. “This was attached to the hasp and staple.” He pointed at another bag still in the plastic container. “The blokes who made the discovery levered it off to gain access. So, whoever left our friend here must have handled this. We’ve dusted it for prints, but that was a nonstarter, no surprise there. If we can find the key though – ta-da!” He described a flourish with his other hand. “That would unlock the whole case.” He rocked his head from side to side, the muscles of his face lifting in another grin.