Page 29 of Gone in the Night (Detective Morgan Brookes #16)

TWENTY-NINE

Morgan drove to the campsite whilst Ben was on the phone to Marc.

She had a rough idea of where it was, and remembered reading an article about it whilst searching for Sharon Montgomery on Google.

She wanted to find the killer before there were any more victims. When Ben finished his phone call, she couldn’t help herself.

‘If Jack killed Sharon, then killed himself, who killed this woman?’

‘Morgan, I’m with you, okay? I’m not against you. I don’t think Jack killed himself either.’

‘Which means that the person who killed these two women, killed him. Why?’

Ben shrugged. ‘I haven’t had enough coffee for this.’

She was biting the corner of her bottom lip, concentrating so hard. ‘His death takes him off the suspect list. So, did Jack know who the killer was? Is that why he was killed?’

‘If Jack knew who the killer was, wouldn’t he have told us last night? He was scared he was in trouble, that we’d find evidence to say he’d killed Sharon. He would have said he knew or suspected someone if he did.’

‘Hm, good point. Okay, so the killer thought that Jack was the perfect decoy and killed him. But why would he then kill whoever this victim is when he’d found himself someone to take the blame?

What if this victim has been dead longer?

He could have killed her, then Sharon, realised Jack was the perfect person to lay the blame on then killed him. ’

Ben was nodding. ‘Makes sense, I suppose it depends on who was murdered first. Is this a good thing then?’

Morgan glanced at him, eyes wide. ‘ A good thing ? Three people are dead.’

‘As in if he thinks by killing Jack we’ll stop looking for the real killer, then it would mean there aren’t going to be any more victims, because he’s going to think he got away with it and needs to calm it down to avoid getting arrested.’

‘Maybe not at the moment, but there will be.’

‘Why will there be? If he’s trying to pin it all on Jack, it wouldn’t make sense for him to kill again and ruin all that planning.’

‘You’re forgetting one key thing.’

‘And that is?’

‘Killers like this can’t stop once they get a taste for it.

Well, some do or leave it years between kills until something sets them off again, I suppose.

But two women killed close together? I think he’s going to struggle to contain all his violent urges.

I mean he might be able to, I’m no forensic psychologist and this is just my opinion, but I think he might move on and continue in a different part of the country.

I don’t think he’s going to be able to put off killing again for long, which is why we have to issue a press release warning all solo campers there’s a killer out there hunting them, because there are plenty more beautiful places to solo camp all over England, Scotland and Wales. ’

‘Morgan, that’s terrifying. It sounds like the blurb for some new horror movie.’

She shrugged. ‘It’s true though, we can’t bury our heads in the sand. Maybe Sharon and this victim were already dead and there was nothing we could have done to prevent their murders, but we can try and stop him finding another victim.’

The police van at the bottom of the narrow road signalled they’d found the campsite; Scotty was leaning against it.

He squinted, then waved them through, recognising them.

Morgan waved back and carried on up the single track to reach the campsite that was shrouded by a copse of trees, making it impossible to see from the road.

‘I guess the trees helped them get planning permission. You’d never know there was anything up here, would you?’ said Ben.

‘How did the killer know about it then?’

‘Morgan, I told you I need coffee. You keep firing all these incredibly important questions at me and my brain feels as if it’s fried. I’m struggling to string coherent sentences together at this point.’

‘They’re hypothetical. I have to say them out loud, so I remember them. I’m not actually expecting you to be able to answer them all. I’m not that mean.’

She turned the corner and saw the uniformed officer guarding the entrance gate.

Behind him was a huge open field with a small 4x4 parked up, its roof tent engaged.

At the opposite end was a tent next to a Mini Cooper.

There was a man and woman loitering near to it, and she did a double glance at the guy, surely not?

It couldn’t be, but her heart was racing.

She recognised him and wanted to turn around and drive back the way she’d come.

It had been years, but she’d never forgotten the way he’d betrayed her.

It still caused her a physical pain in her chest just thinking about it.

Ben didn’t give him a second glance, and she didn’t know if she should say something or ignore it and pretend this wasn’t happening.

Finley Palmer had grown his hair since the last time she’d seen him, he was still as handsome as hell, but he looked a lot more casual than when she’d met him.

He was wearing head-to-toe North Face outdoor hiking gear.

The woman he was with looked older than him, dressed as if she was ready for a yoga class.

Getting out of the car, Morgan didn’t look in their direction, but she could feel Fin’s eyes on her. She didn’t give him any sense that she’d acknowledged him and began to get suited up.

Ben’s voice carried on the wind as she heard him say, ‘What the hell are those two people doing over there? This is a crime scene. Get them out of here.’

Cain pointed to Marc who was now in conversation with Fin. ‘He said they could stay because we can’t let them drive out of here in case it ruins any forensics.’

Cain glanced at Morgan, and she realised he knew exactly who Fin Palmer was. ‘It’s ridiculous because we wouldn’t let any other reporters be so close to a live crime scene.’

Ben’s head snapped in Cain’s direction. ‘What?’

‘He’s a reporter, not sure who for now because I haven’t seen him for a couple of years, but I bet he still is.’

Cain’s gaze fell onto Morgan, and she felt her cheeks begin to burn.

Not sure why, as it was Fin who’d betrayed her by writing a story about her murderous biological father, Gary Marks, and practically accusing Morgan of being a chip off the old block.

He’d not spared any gory little detail about her biological mother’s murder and the fact that her father was the Riverside Rapist.

Ben was looking over at Fin and any moment now it was going to register who he was. He turned back to Morgan and Cain.

‘Get him the fuck out of here. It’s that guy who wrote all the crap about you, isn’t it?’

‘Don’t make a scene, Ben, play it cool. Pretend you don’t know it’s him then he can’t get off on it.’

Cain was smiling. ‘With pleasure, boss. Morgan, do you want to assist or are you happy to watch?’

‘I’ll watch, thanks.’

Cain began to head over to where Marc was in conversation with Fin and the woman.

He turned back to Morgan and winked at her.

She turned away, preferring to focus on the victim.

There was a guy hovering near to a battered old Skoda, his complexion pale as he tried not to stare at the tent, and she walked towards him.

‘Hi, I’m Detective Morgan Brookes. Did you discover the body?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, it gave me such a shock. I fell off the ladder. I didn’t expect to see that.’

‘What did you see? Do you want to sit in your car and talk me through it?’

‘Yes, please. Then can I go? I don’t think I’m much good to you hanging around here, and I don’t want to be in the way or watch whatever is going to happen next. Sorry, I’m a bit of a wimp.’

She smiled at him. ‘You’re not a wimp; it’s a horrible thing to see. I fell off one of those ladders yesterday morning when I did the same thing.’

‘You did, oh my God. There’s been more than this one?’

‘Unfortunately, yes.’

He was shaking his head. ‘Why?’

‘I wish I knew. What’s your name?’

‘Samuel Cross, everyone calls me Sammy.’

‘Can I get your date of birth and address, please, Sammy?’

He told her, and she scribbled it down in her battered old pocket notebook.

‘You work here?’

‘I’m the groundsman, maintenance and sometimes bouncer guy.’

Morgan looked at him. ‘Bouncer? On a remote campsite with no clubhouse or bar on site.’

‘Yeah, I hate it. That’s what I was doing this morning. The lady in the tent had overstayed by two nights and not paid. My boss told me to either get the money off her or throw her off the site.’

‘Does that happen often on campsites?’

‘No idea, it’s happened a couple of times, but people usually just pay up. I think because this one is so off the beaten track and has nobody working on site all the time, they think they can get away with it.’

She nodded. ‘You parked up and then what?’

‘I called out to her a couple of times, you know, to let her know I was there. It smelled bad. I think I knew the moment I got close and got a whiff of that smell something was very wrong, but you don’t expect it, do you?’

‘No, you don’t.’

‘Well, I stood on the ladder and told her I was opening her tent, unzipped it and realised something wasn’t right.

I couldn’t see her, there was a sheet over her, but there was something sticking out of her chest. The smell was awful; I fell off the ladder and I began to scream, which was when those two came running back to see what was happening.

That guy was taking photos, by the way. He said he’s a reporter and I told him to stop, so you better check his phone. ’

Morgan’s fingers instinctively clenched into tight fists as she felt the rage begin to build inside of her. ‘Just a moment.’

She got out of the car to see Cain and Marc going at it a little distance away from the couple and couldn’t help it – she was striding towards Fin Palmer with an anger so black inside of her chest she couldn’t see anything but his face and the desire to throw a punch that would smash his smarmy nose in.

‘Morgan Brookes, how are you? It’s been too long.’

‘Give me your phone.’

He shook his head. ‘Why would I do that?’

She held out her hand. ‘I said give me your phone.’

‘No.’

Morgan had to suck in a deep breath. ‘I have been told that you took photos of a crime scene without permission, so you either hand your phone over or I’m arresting you for obstruction.’

The woman looked from Fin to her. ‘What? You can’t do that.’

‘Yes, I can. Tampering with evidence and you’re putting a murder investigation at jeopardy, so you either delete those photographs now or…’

‘Or what?’

Ben was standing next to her. His voice was quiet and calm, but Morgan knew he’d realised who Fin was. ‘I will arrest you; it’s not a threat, it will be my next step, so you show me what photos you have of the crime scene and then you delete them. It’s not an option.’

Marc who had joined asked, ‘What is going on?’ The confusion in his voice apparent.

Morgan answered, ‘This is Finley Palmer, he’s a journalist who likes to write sensational stories. The guy who found the body said he took photos of inside the tent, and he will no doubt use them in one of his factually incorrect articles.’

Marc straightened up. ‘Phone now.’ He had the palm of his hand outstretched, and Fin rolled his eyes, making a protest about how ridiculous this was before unlocking his iPhone and passing it to Marc, who opened the photos app and began scrolling through them.

He shook his head. ‘Nothing on it except pictures of the fells and lakes.’

Morgan knew that wasn’t right, and she wanted to snatch the phone out of Marc’s hand.

‘Factually incorrect? I think you’ll find my facts were spot on, Morgan, and like I said I haven’t got any photos.’

Marc handed his phone back to him. ‘If I see one photograph of this crime scene in a newspaper or online, I will come and arrest you. It’s not a threat, it’s the truth.’

Fin shrugged. ‘Yeah, yeah.’

The rage inside of Morgan was at boiling point.

Ben looked at their car, then at them. ‘Give my colleague your details and statements, then you pack up your stuff and you get off this crime scene.’

‘You can’t do that, we’ve paid for another night,’ said the woman.

‘Yes, we can. You’re lucky I’m letting you pack your stuff because technically I can make you leave everything here in situ until we’ve finished processing the scene, which could take days.’

Fin reached out his hand and gently took hold of the woman’s arm. He didn’t speak, just turned away.

‘Cain, can you get their statements, please?’

Cain was grinning. ‘Yes, boss.’

Then Ben was guiding Morgan away from this corner of the campsite. He whispered in her ear, ‘He’s an arsehole.’

Morgan couldn’t agree more, but she felt the tightness in her chest begin to loosen as her anger subsided.

Her friends had her back, had come to her rescue and protected her from Fin Palmer, although she dared not think what crap he was going to write about them all after this little encounter.

Of all the campsites in the Lake District, why the hell did he have to be at this one?