Spoilt Page 3

  Chelsea wondered whether her Pa wasn’t right after all. She had always blamed herself for Wes’ walking out on her without a word of explanation. There must have been something she had done. She must have made him feel bad in some way, maybe asked too many questions about his family that one time. It must have been her fault.

  But maybe it was more that Wesley’s soul had been troubled, as Pa had put it. Maybe he had been intimidated by her family and become envious, resentful, angry. Had he only been after her money and walked out when he realised she was too independent to take money from her family. She had always believed that it had been something she’d done, that she hadn’t been enough, but perhaps there had been more to it.

  Either way, it was time to stop the self-pity. Maybe Wes wasn’t her only chance at love after all.

  * * *

  Monday

  “Well the cause of death is the same. Bled out from a cut throat,” Lucas read from Kate Miller’s report. “Ligature marks are consistent with being tied at the wrists and ankles with what appears to be a nylon rope, which of course can be bought anywhere. Her injuries were inflicted using some type of thin blade once again.”

  “The cuts were all made over the period they were missing and there are signs of multiple sexual assaults. This guy is patient.” Maggie paused. “The question still remains about the ID too. How is he getting his hands on it when their handbags are left at home?”

  “I still think he is knocking them out first or threatening them with a weapon, and then takes the ID with him.”

  “Yeah, maybe or he somehow gets his hands on it before. Something we need to consider. So where do we go from here - Kate’s friends?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Libby’s friend. What was her name?” he asked Maggie, who looked over Libby’s report in front of her.

  “Kelly Bradshaw.”

  “What did she say about Libby’s new man?”

  “Kelly told me according to Libby he was charming and handsome but shy and that was why she hadn’t introduced him to anyone. She thought Libby seemed pretty keen.”

  “Maybe Kate met the same guy and he used the same excuses. Obviously he didn’t want anyone to meet him so no-one could identify him.”

  “Looks that way. I’ll go through missing persons now and find all girls around twenty-five who match the victims’ description. If our man is true to form, he may have already grabbed another.”

  Lucas nodded in agreement before returning to Kate’s file. He looked up suddenly.

  “Did Libby have trace evidence on her body which came back as flour?”

  “Um,” replied Maggie once again scanning the report. “Yes, a flour substance from transference, either from his hands or the location.”

  “I’ll check out all abandoned warehouses and factories that would’ve used flour.”

  Lucas began his search hoping there would only be a few to check out. The database located four possible warehouses within the metro area but spread out over the city. Two were in bread and baked goods production, the other two were flour mills. None of the locations was in close proximity to the two scenes where the bodies had been dumped. It would take a while to conduct a search.

  “Lucas, I’ve found two possible missing girls who fit the description. Maybe we should talk to the people who reported them missing, see if they had a mystery guy. We might get a description, something.”

  She proceeded to tell him their names and last known address.

  “One of the factories is nearby. We can check it out on the way. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  * * *

  When it came time for Chelsea to leave on Monday, Sarah started with her standard lines.

  “You should come home more often.”

  “You work too hard.”

  “We just miss you so much.”

  The more Chelsea protested the more it continued. After a final goodbye, she headed off on her journey back home. She used the drive to reflect on the last three days and how much better she felt. It was time to move on, to stop wallowing and wipe away the painful memories. Was it pure loneliness that caused her to dwell in the past? Was this why she couldn’t let go? Did she miss Wesley or just the idea of him? If only she could forget his beautiful face.

  Three and a half hours later, after a delay getting back into the city, Chelsea pulled into her drive to discover the house dark. She decided Elle was probably asleep and forgot to leave the light on or, more than likely, she was out. Elle spent many nights away from home so Chelsea wasn’t concerned.

  After lugging her suitcase up to her room, she decided to sit and reflect on the balcony, her favourite haven. While gazing at the lights over the city and listening to the hum of city commotion, she vowed to give herself a new beginning.

  Chapter 5

  Missing

  Tuesday

  Chelsea woke feeling refreshed and ready to make some changes in her life, starting with Bloom. Naturally, she would continue to work with diligence, as she always did, however, she resolved to open her life to new opportunities and stop burying herself in work.

  After showering, she swept her hair up into a neat pony tail and wondered whether Elle was home. She looked out towards her room to discover the door still closed.

  She's probably asleep.

  Chelsea hurried through breakfast and a kick-start coffee, knowing there was a lot to get through today. She walked into the garage to discover Elle’s car parked next to hers.

  She must be home - her car’s here. Was it here last night? Chelsea couldn’t remember. Of course, she’s in bed, don’t worry.

  On the drive over to Bloom, she tried to go over the arrangements to be completed but her thoughts kept drifting back to Elle. Should she have checked on her? I’ll ring when I can.

  When she pulled up at the back of the shop, her delivery driver, Gavin, arrived in his van.

  “Morning, Chelsea,” he called as he hopped out. “Did you have a nice weekend?”

  “Very relaxing thanks, Gav. How was your weekend away?”

  “Great. It was nice having the extra day off with my family,” he replied with a grateful smile.

  “They all well?”

  “Yes, they’re growing up fast. I’ll start unloading so you can get started.”

  “Thanks.”

  While Gavin loaded the van, she prepared arrangements for sale and display. Bloom, her home away from home, filled Chelsea with contentment. It was a quaint shop with displays lining each wall and a counter in the rear. Although the lighting was low, it didn’t detract from the overall visibility. It merely set the ambiance. The walls, painted in cream, were adorned with hanging baskets containing flowering plants which were also for sale.

  The large front window displayed her favourite collections of the day. ‘Bloom’ was painted across the top with artistic flair and bordered by a creeping vine. In the back storage area were two large industrial fridges to keep all her flowers fresh. Being surrounded by the wonderful aromas and colours always soothed and lifted her spirits. As she opened the front door, Mrs. Nelson, a regular customer, breezed through the door.

  “Good morning, dear,” she said. “What have you got for me today?”

  “This one over here,” Chelsea replied collecting an arrangement from one of the vases. “I had you in mind when I put this together.”

  “Oh, it’s perfect darling. The Watsons are coming for dinner tonight and Susan is always envious of my table arrangements, but I never let her in on my little secret - you.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Nelson, I think.”

  “Oh, but if I told Susan, it could bring more business for you. Well sorry, dear, I’m keeping you for myself.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “Well must rush, lots to do.” She went out the door the same way she came in.

  Chelsea’s day kept her busy, preparing the deliveries whilst serving new and regular customers. Each time she went to ring home, someone came in or the phone rang. For once, she
wished she wasn’t so busy. The only welcome relief was that it allowed her no time at all to think about anything.

  Stop thinking about him, Chelsea! He’s gone! Like Charlotte said, it’s been a year!

  She nodded her head to conclude those thoughts once and for all and finished up for the day. It was on the way home that she began to wonder again about Elle and chastised herself for not finding the time to call her over the course of the day.

  When she arrived home and entered the garage, Elle’s old beat up car - suiting her unfussy lifestyle - was still parked in her spot.

  She ran up the stairs and called out to her friend.

  “Elle,” she called again. “Are you here?”

  The door to Elle’s room was closed as before. She knocked before entering. Her room was empty, the bed made, and the blinds closed.

  This is strange…

  Chelsea fished her phone out of her bag and dialled Elle’s number. She heard the familiar upbeat tone coming from the room she’d just left. This is when she noticed Elle’s much-loved and much-used handbag sitting on her dresser.

  Maybe she went for a walk or something. I’ll give her an hour. Maybe her mum picked her up and she’s forgotten to ring. She’s done that before.

  After the hour passed, Chelsea located Elle’s address book and decided to call everyone she knew, starting with Elle’s mum.

  “Hi, Mrs. Sheridan, it’s Chelsea. How are you?”

  “Well, dear, and you?”

  “Good. Um, I was wondering if Elle’s with you.”

  “No I haven’t spoken to her since around nine on Saturday morning. I was surprised she called so early.”

  “Did she mention if she was going anywhere?”

  “Yes, she told me a young man was picking her up to take her to breakfast. I guess this was why she was up. What’s the matter? You’re beginning to worry me.”

  “It’s nothing, I hope, but I don’t know if Elle came home last night. I’m sure she’s fine, just forgotten to ring.”

  “Hmm, she has been known to do that ...”

  “I’m sure that’s all it is, that she forgot to call, you know how she is?” Chelsea joked. She felt a little uneasy now.

  “Unfortunately, yes, this is not the first time she’s forgotten to ring but she’s always been alright so far, thankfully.”

  “I promise I’ll have her call when she gets home. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  Chelsea called her other friends, the ones Elle usually went out with - Chelsea didn’t go out much - however no-one had seen her.

  It was quite late now and she considered going to the police station to report her missing but thought better of it. There was probably an explanation. Elle had done this before. Chelsea recalled the time when she met a backpacker from overseas, France she thought, and had disappeared for an entire weekend with him. At first, Chelsea was sick with worry but, after being absent two days, Elle had turned up glowing and happy. She told Chelsea she wouldn’t worry her like that again but, Elle being Elle, Chelsea knew she quite possibly could. Her vivacious energy and total absorption in her latest mission or conquest determined that she mostly didn’t keep her promises.

  Chelsea never begrudged Elle for this. Her passion and zest for life made her who she was. If she didn’t turn up by morning, she would go to the police station. She could open a little later than usual tomorrow. Chelsea decided it best to go to bed as there wasn’t any more she could do right now, but her unease didn’t lift.

  * * *

  I think it’s time to go and see what the spoilt bitch is up to.

  Does she know her friend is gone yet?

  Does she care?

  She doesn’t care about anyone but herself, with all her luxuries.

  I watch her every day.

  Ah here she is now. Well, we look a little concerned today.

  Don’t fret. You won’t have to wait long. Soon you’ll know where she is.

  It’s almost time to go and collect up my next practice run.

  They are sooo easy. All I have to do is turn on the charm.

  They always open the door for me, they know and trust me. Desperate fools!

  * * *

  Perched on a stool at ‘Clive’s’, Lucas nursed his third beer and considered ordering another shot. The pleasantly numb feeling that followed the buzz began to spread through his veins and he welcomed it. The thought of returning to his empty apartment after work held little appeal, so he’d decided to bury his troubles at the bar.

  It had been several years since any case had affected him this way. The familiarity of the murders stirred up buried memories. Even after all this time, a simple reminder caused the pain to return. Not being able to sleep and having an empty apartment weren’t helping. A drink-induced stupor could solve that problem, for at least tonight anyway.

  “Excuse me,” a female voiced invaded his melancholy. “Is this seat taken?” Very original, sweetheart.

  “No,” he told her, his eyes not leaving his near-empty bottle.

  “Why so glum?”

  Lucas turned and found just what he needed to occupy his mind. Long dark curls, small trim figure, large brown eyes and a pretty smile.

  “Tough week,” he told her.

  “You’re way too cute to be sad or even alone for that matter.”

  He groaned internally. She knew all the lines. This would be too easy.

  “Thanks.” He offered her his winning smile and sealed the deal. “You’re way too pretty to be chatting up men in bars.”

  Chapter 6

  Who’s Next?

  Wednesday

  Lucas opened his eyes and found himself in a strange bed with the remnants of too many drinks fogging his mind. He turned to find the girl still asleep beside him and he gave silent thanks. Perhaps he could sneak away without having to make excuses or showing any pretence. He didn’t plan on seeing her again and couldn’t remember her name.

  Ignoring the guilt and the pounding in his head, he dressed with haste and crept out of her apartment. On the street, he tried to get his bearings so he could call a taxi and make his way home.

  As he waited for his ride, he attempted to recall the details of the previous night but, as always, it was the same. No sparks flew. They’d gone through the motions until they were both satisfied, and crashed. Nothing memorable there, as always. Just the way he liked it. No strings meant no loss, which meant no pain.

  After a refreshing cold shower and two cups of strong coffee he was ready to face the day.

  * * *

  All night Chelsea listened for noises signifying Elle’s arrival home. Every little sound prompted Chelsea to climb out of bed and check, fruitlessly, to see if Elle had returned. As a result she slept poorly, leaving her head feeling thick from the many interruptions to her slumber.

  She got up and staggered yet again to Elle’s bedroom in the hope that perhaps she hadn’t heard her and she was in fact home after all, but her room was still empty. Filled with dread and anxiety for her best friend, tears pricked Chelsea’s eyes as she tried to convince herself that everything would be all right.

  After taking a quick shower and throwing on the first thing she could find, she drove as fast as the law would allow to the police station, consumed with worry. How long had Elle been missing? Chelsea couldn’t be sure. She walked towards the station, filled with irritation for not having done this sooner. Meanwhile her fear continued to build, fast.

  As she went to open the door to the station, it came away in her hand and she found herself face-to-face - well more like face-to-chest - with someone leaving the precinct.

  She looked up and up, to set eyes on a tall, broad-shouldered man whom she assumed was a policeman. His dark wavy hair was longish and dishevelled. His chiselled, handsome face held an intense expression and the look in his hazel eyes was … she didn’t know what that was. He looked almost dazed.

  He seemed for a moment to stare at her before his face become blank and he cleared h
is throat.

  “Is there something I can help you with? I’m a detective here.” His voice was deep and soothing. Chelsea realised she was the one now staring at him. Those intense hazel eyes bewildered her already uneasy mind as she struggled to piece together her words.

  Lucas gazed down into her face. Lust rushed through him and his mind went blank. Only one lingering thought remained. Wow! He gave her another once over and his eyes become locked to the vulnerable expression on her face. Wow!

  Eyes the colour of emeralds peered up at him. Her long, dark hair fell in waves past her shoulders. Her smooth, milky skin was calling him to reach out and stroke her face. She was petite. She was exquisite. He felt an overwhelming need to protect her, a concept foreign to him. Her anxious expression brought forth feelings long since forgotten. He wanted to grab her and … Sheer electricity.

  “I...I...hope so. I’m worried about my friend, my roommate. She seems to have gone missing.” Her voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear her.

  Great. He needn’t let her go just yet. “Come with me. We’ll write up a report,” he suggested, as his professional radar switched itself on - another missing girl. At least that was still working. He could scarcely concentrate in her presence. Thankfully, the previous day the two missing girls resembling the recent victims had returned home unharmed. Was this another false alarm?

  “Um, thanks,” she murmured.

  She followed his lanky frame towards a room down the hall. Everything inside her was on fire. His broad, strong shoulders and amazing eyes did incredible things to her. She suddenly found it difficult to breathe, or to stand.

  He’s just a guy, Chelsea. You’ve been alone too long.

  Still, try as she might, she couldn’t ignore whatever this feeling was. Emotions she couldn’t recall ever experiencing before flurried inside her like a swarm of tiny butterflies. The confidence oozing from him rendered her incapable of rational thought.