Page 25 of Gone in the Night (Detective Morgan Brookes #16)
TWENTY-FIVE
‘How much do you believe in the universe, or God, or whatever is the equivalent in your world?’ asked the woman on the screen.
‘Manifesting is real whether you believe it or not, and I want you all to know that I manifested this beautiful life, this vlog, this YouTube channel being monetised, and if I can do it then so can you. Your life goals don’t have to be pipe dreams; you have the power to make it happen. ’
He was enthralled, she was good, she was very good and he was sucked in already. Her voice, although distinctly northern, was not local like the other two, but it was soothing and easy to listen to. She was promising him that his dreams could become his reality if he believed they could.
A wet nose pushed at his hand, and he looked down to see the dead woman’s dog staring up at him.
He had never wanted a pet dog in his life, yet this one was different – the way it looked at him as if it knew what he’d done, but it didn’t care as long as he was taking care of it, feeding it, taking it for walks and letting it lie on his sofa.
It had become a problem because now he was responsible for it.
He’d never been responsible for anyone or anything in his life, and he’d thought about taking it to the dog shelter, then he’d realised: first, he didn’t know where the nearest one was and second, he’d have to fill in paperwork which would leave a trail.
If someone recognised the dog, he’d be screwed; even if he gave false details they’d probably have CCTV and be able to show the police what he looked like.
A second nudge of that wet nose and he caved.
‘Two treats, that’s my best offer because I don’t know if they are good for you or how many you should be eating.
’ The dog’s tail began swiping the floor, and he stood up to go get a couple of the dried-up sausages out of the ziplock bag.
He’d paid a small fortune for the sausages at the Booths supermarket because they were supposed to be made from all natural ingredients.
He didn’t want to dwell on what ingredients not natural contained, but if they didn’t cost a fiver a bag, he would consider buying them.
He stared down at the dog, it was some kind of terrier, at least he thought it was, he wasn’t an expert on dogs so he couldn’t be sure.
He was too scared to google dog breeds in case it all linked back to him, although why he was bothered about that was beyond him, because anyone who knew the woman would know this was her missing dog.
He closed his eyes at the sharp pain behind them.
He had caused himself far too many problems by letting it come home with him, and he knew he should have broken its neck back up at the campsite.
Then he looked at it again and realised he wouldn’t have been able to do that; how come he had been able to slice its owner to death with no regrets or worries yet be a sucker for her pet dog?
That question was going to haunt him the rest of his life, however long that may be.
He went back to his laptop and pressed play.
He didn’t know anything about manifesting, he’d heard of it because the word got tossed around by every man and woman on social media these days, but he was completely mesmerised with the woman who did.
She had the prettiest blonde hair, green eyes and when she did those yoga poses in front of her little car with the roof tent on it, with a view of Lake Windermere behind it, he knew that he had to find her.
He paused the video again to write down her number plate.
It wouldn’t be too hard; she had already announced that she was going on a solo camping trip at the weekend to find herself and meditate under the new moon.
He thought that by the end of this vlog or maybe the next she would give away the clues he needed to find her exact location, and this made him very happy.
The dog let out a gentle snore by his feet, and he hoped she didn’t have any pets she took camping with her, or he was going to be running a rehoming centre for murder victims’ pets, and what would happen to them if he got caught?
When the video ended, he was careful not to like or subscribe to her channel because that could lead the cops right to his door.
He knew they were good. He knew that red-haired woman was better than good, she was excellent, but he didn’t think she’d be as good as he was.
They were going to be all over the place when the next body was eventually discovered, and it had to be soon.
Surely someone checked on that campsite, otherwise how would they know the people pitching their tents had paid?
It was so tempting to go back up there to see if anyone else was camping, but he also knew by the killers back in the seventies and eighties he’d studied not to return to the scene of the crime.
Everybody knew who Ted Bundy was, but he was obsessed with revisiting his crime scenes and the places he hid some of the bodies.
All right, the guy was completely weird because he was into necrophilia which was disgusting.
He paused and smiled to himself. Each to their own he supposed.
Who was he to judge, when he could kill someone in the blink of an eye with no regrets?
At the end of the day, he was no better than Bundy, except for maybe his morals, he did have some of those, and as if to prove this the dog whimpered in its sleep on the floor next to him, and he smiled down at it.