Sleep Tight

A dark gripping, serial-killer thriller with a shocking twist

Caroline Mitchell

To my daughter Aoife. I know I gave you a name nobody can spell, but to me it reflects your undeniable uniqueness. You were always meant to shine bright in this world. Love you.

‘Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.’

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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

Murder Game

Email Sign Up

Also by Caroline Mitchell

A Letter from Caroline

Death Note

Don’t Turn Around

Time to Die

The Silent Twin

Acknowledgements

Prologue

The doctor gave a satisfied nod as he lifted the stethoscope from the woman’s bare chest. ‘Ah, the heart of a lion. We’ll soon have you cleaned up. But now. . . a little music to ease the passage.’ He did not expect a response because he was talking to himself. It had been that way ever since people could no longer bear to be in his presence. He turned, raising the needle of the old-fashioned record player as he set the music in place. Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata breathed life into the crumbling room. The haunting tune aided his movements, making them smooth and effortless. Classical music was something he’d fallen back on during the darkest of times when the pain of his disfigurement became too much. But now, in the privacy of his surgery, the turmoil of the last year floated away. The bones in his neck cracked as he craned his head towards the paint-flaked ceiling. He gazed in admiration as a union of colour and sound floated above. His ability to see colours in music was both a torment and a gift. But then he always saw the world differently to others.

Pushing a lever, he eased back the surgeon’s chair. Earrings, necklace, bracelet… each piece of jewellery chimed as it hit the stainless steel bowl. Once used for harbouring freshly harvested organs, it made a suitable container for his exterior work. Jewellery removed, his eyes roamed over the woman’s naked body. To him, it was a canvas, and there was so much work to be done. But then bringing beauty to a dark and unforgiving world was never going to be an effortless task. Unfolding the razor, he laid it on the side, admiring the glint of the freshly sharpened blade. It was called a cut throat for a reason. There was an art to using this implement, unlike the disposable razors used today. Too much pressure would initiate the onset of tiny beads of blood. Not enough, and you were merely scraping skin. It was why he had placed her in a comatose state, as still as the death which was yet to claim her.

The music played on, enveloping his senses in green, blue and purple as he prepared the soapy lather. The process was a meditative exercise, which acquainted him with every curve of the young woman’s flesh. Goose pimples rose as an icy breeze snuck through the thin chipboard that boarded the window. He paused; he would have to purchase a heater. Such an appliance would make little demands on the generator, which purred in the corner of the room. Dipping the brush into the dish, he applied the frothy soap to the top of her thighs, working his way down in a slow, circular motion.

By the time she was lathered and shaved, her skin was mottled from the cold. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, stepping back to admire his handiwork. A warm throb of satisfaction pulsed inside him, and the left side of his mouth jerked upwards as he exposed his teeth in a ghoulish half-smile.

Up until now, he had kept his silence, but the time had come to make a statement to the world. Each work of art would be delivered publicly for all to admire and take pause. ‘That’s better,’ he said, voicing his thoughts out loud. ‘There’s no better feeling than swiping your thumb over the grime of urban living to reveal something quite exquisite underneath.’ Placing a blanket up to the girl’s chest, he checked the leather straps were firmly in place. Her origins were no longer significant. Soon she would look like a fairy tale princess – but one without censor, fitting for the modern world. Art was reflected in life, and beauty could be found in dirty little things.

Chapter One

Her arms lay outstretched as if welcoming the cover of the night sky. Eyes open, mouth parted, her last breath was nothing but a ghost on her lips. Even without the trappings of jewellery and clothing, DS Ruby Preston could tell that this young woman was once loved. Somewhere there was a mother, a sister or a lover waiting for her to come home. Her platinum blonde hair lay splayed on the grass as if she were not human at all but an angel who had fallen from grace. Ruby fought the urge to cover her naked body. She was more than a girl whose life was abruptly snuffed out, she was a vessel carrying clues that could potentially lead them to the person responsible for the violence that had brought her life to an end. And there had been violence. The bruises dappling her ivory skin were a testament to that. But the vision of such a horrific act was not enough to dampen the stars shining brightly overhead.

The heat of summer was all but a memory now as the late November chill grew teeth and bit hard. Ruby buttoned up her coat, distancing herself from her all too human emotions of sorrow and anger – there would be time for that later. As she stood in Shoreditch Park, she knew that every second since the discovery of the body was precious. She lifted her airwaves radio to update control.

By the time DI Jack Downes arrived, the scene had been cordoned, a tent was being erected, and the streets were aglow with fluorescent jackets as uniformed officers assisted detectives knocking on doors.

‘You look as if you’ve just got out of bed,’ Ruby said, feeling as if the frost had permeated her bones.

Downes’s finger combed his grey-flecked hair, looking over her shoulder to the crime scene. ‘I have, as it happens. How did yous get here so quickly?’

‘I was in the area dealing with a witness about an unrelated incident. Control called me up—’

‘And you hotfooted it over here,’ Downes said, finishing her sentence. ‘Jesus, woman, don’t you ever go home?’

‘Married to the job, that’s me,’ Ruby said, stamping her boots on the frosted grass as she attempted to return some feeling to her toes. ‘She’s not been there very long.’ Ruby did not need to be a coroner to work out that much. The girl’s body was soft and limp, free of the rigor mortis that was yet to claim her. It was also a given that in such a public place she would not have lain undiscovered for long.

‘Age?’

‘I’d say early twenties, no puncture marks or tattoos; she doesn’t fit the description of anyone in the missing persons database. I’m thinking a possible sexually motivated murder. Could be a boyfriend, but the bruising on her throat and thighs suggests a sudden, frenzied attack.’

Downes nodded. ‘She’ll have to stay here overnight. They won’t want to be moving her until morning.’ He sighed a frosted breath, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his full-length tweed coat. ‘I don’t know, it’s not that long since the door-knocker murders. Have you met the forensic pathologist yet?’

‘Vera? Yeah, she’s nice. Knows her stuff too.’ Ruby stared at the ground for a few seconds, contemplating Christopher Douglas, the former pathologist. His loss had affected them all. The whump, whump of a police helicopter broke into her thoughts as it searched the park from the skies above her. She squinted as the powerful spotlight beamed from overhead, still seeing spots of light in her vision as it abruptly switched to heat-seeking mode. The park was filling up with onlookers. Unless the suspect was running around naked, it was unlikely they would pick him up now. Having taken what he wanted, he had most likely gone to ground.

‘Away with ye to the station,’ Downes said, drawing back her attention. ‘I’ll follow on. And grab us a bit of grub on your way. It’s going to be a long night.’ He clapped her heartily on the back before heading to the uniformed officer manning the crime scene.

But her time at Shoreditch police station was short-lived. Just hours later, Ruby was standing with Downes on the doorstep of Audrey Caldwell. She had reported her daughter missing and the description of the young woman matched the details of the body in the park. Lisa Caldwell, just twenty-one years old, had last been seen walking through it from Pitfield Street, after leaving the Britannia Leisure Centre prior to closing at 10 p.m. But that was over three hours ago. Ruby could have easily requested uniformed officers to speak to Lisa’s mother but she had claimed ownership of the case the very moment she came upon the young woman’s body, and would not shy away from her duties now. Taking strength in DI Downes’s presence, she braced herself as a hall light flickered on. Her finger had barely pressed the door buzzer before urgent footsteps tip-tapped down the stairs.

The door swished open, and a pallid-looking Audrey Caldwell tightened the belt of her dressing gown, glancing from Ruby to Downes. She looked shockingly like her daughter, and a heavy sense of dread bloomed inside Ruby’s chest. If there were any doubt that the woman lying in the park was not Lisa, it evaporated the moment she saw her mother’s face.

‘Mrs Caldwell?’ Ruby said, opening her warrant card to introduce herself and her colleague. But Audrey was looking over their shoulders and into the darkened streets beyond.

‘Is she with you? Have you brought her home?’ she said, her voice strained.

‘Can we come inside?’ DI Downes said, his Northern Irish accent sounding as soft as butter in comparison.

Mrs Caldwell moved aside, and Downes ducked, stepping beneath the threshold. Ruby brushed against him as she followed Mrs Caldwell through to the living room on the left. His coat still carried the frost from the night air where they had found the young girl staring, dead-eyed, at the stars.

Ruby’s eyes danced over the framed family photo on the dresser, which featured Mrs Caldwell with a young girl on each side. She felt her throat tighten as the face of the girl from the park stared back at her with a pink bloom to her cheeks and a carefree expression on her face. On the other side was a young woman in an army uniform, wearing a beret over her slicked-back blonde hair, and a wide grin on her face.

As Mrs Caldwell sat, Ruby delivered the news: ‘The body of a young woman has been found in the park tonight.’

Mrs Caldwell drew in a sudden breath then clasped a hand to her mouth.

Grim-faced, Ruby pushed on. In her experience, it was best not to draw things out. Like ripping off a plaster, bad news should be delivered quickly and professionally. ‘She’s yet to be formally identified, but there’s a strong possibility that it’s your daughter.’

‘Mum?’ A young woman’s voice spoke from the doorway. It was the other girl from the picture, her hair now hanging limply around her face. She took in the scene before taking her mother’s side.

‘Lisa’s with a friend, that’s all,’ Mrs Caldwell said, taking small, quick breaths. ‘She. . . she’ll be home soon.’

‘Have you seen her with your own eyes?’ the girl asked, turning her gaze onto Ruby. ‘This woman in the park?’ She grabbed the framed photo from the dresser and waved it under Ruby’s face. ‘Is she the girl you saw?’

Ruby nodded. ‘In all probability, yes, but she’ll have to be formally identified in the morning. We’ll assign a family liaison officer, who’ll arrange to pick you up.’

Mrs Caldwell sprang from the sofa, wobbling slightly as her legs threatened to buckle. ‘Now, I want you to take me now. This’ll be a mistake. The sooner we get it sorted, the sooner you can look for my daughter.’ Her voice was as brittle as shards of glass.

‘I’m afraid we can’t,’ Downes said. ‘We’ve got to leave the body in situ tonight. The most important thing we can do is preserve the scene and find out who’s responsible. We’ve got a tent in place, and police will be standing guard until such time as we can take her to a mortuary. She won’t be alone. I’m so sorry.’

‘You needn’t be sorry for me,’ Mrs Caldwell said, ‘because it’s not my Lisa. She’ll come in, any minute now, she’ll. . .’ Her words were overtaken by sudden violent sobs. Ruby watched as she fell into the arms of her daughter, wishing the woman could be spared the pain that lay ahead.