Glimpse, The Beautiful Deaths

by Stephen B King

Overview

Rick McCoy of the Major Crime Squad is trying to repair his marriage when he is sent to the South of Western Australia. A young girl's body has been found in a cave, with flowers on her chest. A search finds five more bodies.

Beautiful criminal psychologist, Patricia Holmes, has recovered from her stab wounds inflicted by the serial killer PPP, and is brought in. Pat believes they are hunting a man who is addicted to beauty. When another school girl goes missing, they have only days before she too will die.

As their desire for each other grows and the pressure on their marriages increase, they close in on the man responsible for the beautiful deaths. Meanwhile, in the high-security wing of the mental health hospital, PPP plans his revenge on Rick.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781509225149
Publisher:	Wild Rose Press
Publication date:	04/10/2019
Series:	Deadly Glimpses , #2
Pages:	362
Product dimensions:	5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.75(d)

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

Discovery

The Catacombs, Karingily National Park,

Near Yallingup, Western Australia

September 14th, 2002

He gently laid her body on the worn rocky floor against the side wall. He daren't walk into the caves any farther, because he feared what he would see if he did. The caverns hid the ghosts of bodies that had been laid to rest before. The farther in he ventured, the more likely he might be to see one, and he didn't want that; they would be far too ugly to contemplate.

He carried her easily enough; she hardly weighed anything anymore. She wasn't much more than skin and bone. But she had once been stunning; oh how beautiful she was.

He squatted down, staring at her once-pretty face and remembered when he had first seen her. He thought she was the one. He had to possess her; it had been an irresistible force of attraction. The stark white beam from his headlight, secured by elastic straps, illuminated the surroundings, as he remembered it all. She had been spectacular, the best so far, the most vibrant, most youthful, and she had possessed the longest eyelashes he had ever seen. Why hadn't she stayed that way? Why did they always change?

He shook his head sadly as the light swung from side to side. What had gone wrong? How could she have become so unattractive in so short a time? What could he have done better, and, was there any way to have captured her beauty before she changed?

He wanted to touch her face, but couldn't bear the thought of how leathery and cold her skin would feel, and at the mere idea, he shuddered throughout his body.

He lifted the garland of flowers from around his neck and softly placed it on her stomach. It had once been so flat and firm, but was now sunken and hollow. He had used a wreath arrangement this time, so he didn't damage the delicate flowers as he carried the body. By lowering his head, the light dipped so he could look at the white lilies, and red berry-laden holly that had been wrapped around them. The flowers were beautiful; she deserved that, he believed.

He took her hands and folded them over her chest, then tugged her school uniform skirt down over her thighs to protect her modesty.

"Goodbye, beautiful," he whispered, and the echo of the cave brought it straight back to him several times. He stood, turned on his heel, and retraced his steps, back toward the opening.

* * *

The body was discovered just after twelve o'clock on a sunny afternoon in January, by Clive Hamilton and his son Randy. They had gone to find and explore the caves near the Blue Lake; it would be an adventure, father told son, who readily agreed.

The family had arrived at the Karingily National Park, for a lunchtime picnic. They had spent the last four days exploring the Yallingup coastline on their annual trip "down south". Last year's holiday was spent at Albany, and the year before Esperance. Yallingup was closer to home, and as the boys were getting older, there were more things to do at the nearby tourist destination in and around the town of Busselton.

They played mini golf, practiced archery, fished from the jetty, and swam in the azure blue waters of the Indian Ocean. Clive cooked on the barbeque at night. Sometimes it was the fish they caught and other times steaks, venison, or the fresh-water lobster Marron obtained from the local farmers' markets. He always cooked while sipping locally sourced red wine, while Maureen made salads and the boys played or read comics. Life was good for the Hamiltons; he was a bank manager, and Maureen worked from home as a graphic designer.

On that fateful day, which the family would never forget, and would be the beginning of nightmares for Randy that would last for years, father and both sons started the morning fishing on the beach in front of the caravan park. Maureen had a lie in, and read a romance story she had picked up at a second-hand bookshop in the town. Then, she cooked a hearty breakfast of sausages, fried eggs, bacon, and baked beans and kept it warm until they returned. While she waited, she prepared sandwiches for the upcoming outing to Blue Lake. They had read about it, by accident, in an obscure tourist guide that was at least twenty years old, found in the same bookshop, which also sold antiques and curios.

They discovered the shop on their day set aside for seeing the tourist caves, art galleries, and studios that abounded in the area. The two boys knew their parents well, and kept their obvious boredom hidden as best as they could. There would be plenty of things for them to do and see: adventures to experience, games to play, and places to swim to escape the heat. One day letting mum and dad do their thing wasn't too big a price to pay.

Right at ten o'clock, as agreed, the men arrived back at the caravan. Nine-year-old Josh raced ahead with the bucket to show his mother the four small sand whiting they had captured, and two herring, while Clive and Randy put the fishing equipment away in the storage locker mounted on the rear of the van. They were chatting about the one that got away. Randy was positive it had been a tailor, and a big one at that, but Clive thought it could have been a small mulloway, though they would never know as it spat the hook before it got to the surf gently crashing on the sand.

Once hands were washed, they sat down at the fold-up table and chairs under the pull-out awning, so they could not only hear the waves as they broke on the pristine white beach, but see them and the surfers who rode them in to shore only two hundred meters away.

They were a loving family, enjoying their holidays, making plans for what was to come as they ate. Clive and Maureen were not just interested in having fun, they believed in their children growing up with an appreciation of wildlife, fauna, history, and all the other aspects the local area had to offer. Hence, the planned picnic to Karingily, as out of the way it was.

They read about Blue Lake, and of the hiking trail which led to some caves, which Clive and Randy were intending to walk to. Maureen had zero interest in hiking, and even less in caves full of bats, spiders, and rats, even if they did have wall paintings, though the tourist guide didn't say they had. She intended to sit by the lake and watch Josh play while she read some more of her book about a lovelorn time traveler named Grace.

Being midweek, the car park at Karingily was empty, though even on weekends, only an hour's drive from Busselton, and off the main road, it never got busy. Since the opening of the new blacktop to Donnybrook, Karingily and the surrounding farms had become "off the beaten track". With stunning beaches to swim at, and the much more publicized stalagmite caves along Caves Road, who would want to drive for so long to bathe in a freshwater lake, no matter how beautiful the views?

They arrived and parked on the crushed gravel parking area beside the lake. The family poured out of the Toyota and stood, hands on hips, looking at the view, which was stunning. "I wonder why they call it Blue Lake," Clive asked, with a serious note to his voice.

The two boys giggled, and Maureen gave him a raised eyebrow look, being well used to his dad's sense of humor. The lake was the most stunning shade of sapphire blue and looked impossibly deep. Surrounded by white cliffs, majestic red gum and karri trees which were reflected in the mirror-like surface, it reminded Maureen of an oasis in the dessert.

"Last one in is a rotten tomato," Clive said as he peeled off his T- shirt which featured a picture of Chewbacca on the front. Typical of him, he dropped it on the gravel, causing Maureen to shake her head.

The boys joined in the race, yanking at their upper clothes. They already had on their board shorts. Maureen, ever the sensible one, sighed. As always, it was up to her to get the things they would need out of the vehicle. If she didn't get the towels out, who would? Then how would they get dry without making the things in the car wet?

Men; can't live with them, can't live without them, and can't shoot them, she mused as she opened the tailgate.

The family cooled off in the still waters of the stunningly picturesque lake before setting up the picnic rug and eating the sandwiches Maureen had prepared earlier. The portable ice chest they brought contained cans of soft drinks and pieces of fresh fruit housed in plastic containers, which they welcomed as the temperature rose and the occasional fly made its presence felt.

Once they finished lunch, Clive set up the fold-up lounge chair for Maureen to lie on and grabbed the rucksack from the Toyota. It contained a towel, first aid kit, water bottles, a rope and two torches.

"You can never be too careful," he had told Maureen on several occasions when he and Randy had taken off together on some adventure or other, and she had nodded at his wisdom.

Randy gave his mother a hug, then father and son headed off down the track, laughing and kidding each other about what they might discover in the caves. Clive had woven a fantasy about a coven of witches, complete with broomsticks that frequented the caves for "secret" meetings, which Randy half believed, though he understood his father's sense of humor. The trouble was, sometimes his stories were true, so he never knew whether he should believe them or not. As a family, they had seen the first two Harry Potter movies and loved them, so witches and wizards were a favored topic of conversation in the Hamilton household.

It took twenty minutes walking among the gum trees before they stood at the limestone cliff face which contained over forty craggy openings. Some were small, while others were quite large. Clive had read in the tourist guide the locals called them The Catacombs, because centuries before it was said that Aborigines laid loved ones to rest in the myriad of interconnecting chambers. He read that the practice had only stopped after a bad rockslide killed several mourners, and ever since they had shunned the place, because of "bad spirits".

They stood in front of a faded sign which warned tourists not to enter, and that rockslides could happen without warning. Anyone entering did so at their own risk. Clive shook his head and almost stopped the expedition right then, knowing Maureen would not want them entering anywhere dangerous.

Randy was persistent. "Come on, Dad. Let's just go in a little way." He whined.

Because Clive could rarely refuse his son anything, he relented, but insisted, "Ten minutes in, and that's it, Randy. Then we come back out, Deal?"

"Deal. Can I have my own torch, Dad?"

"Yes, you can, but no racing ahead. Here's a piece of chalk, if you do get in front of me, mark with an arrow which way you are going so I will always be able to find you. You must respect the danger we face, Randy."

He nodded and held out his hand. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, Dad, let's get going."

It was approximately at the fifteen-minute mark Clive was ready to call a halt. The caves appeared to go on and on forever, and there was nothing to make them remarkable. They were devoid of ancient paintings, stalagmites, and wildlife. They were nothing more than a series of tunnels and caverns that seemed like they could stay a month and not see it all. Randy had gone ahead of his father, more able to squeeze through some of the narrower fissures, despite Clive telling him to slow down on numerous occasions. Suddenly from the darkness ahead, Randy screamed.

He ran around the next corner, his torch light bobbing, and stopped in shock. It looked as if Randy had almost stumbled and fallen over some sort of mannequin. At first, Clive couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. He pointed his torch directly down, and then slowly passed the light from feet to head. It was only when he fully took in the mummified skin of the face, and lips drawn back to show the teeth in a grimace, that he too screamed. That started Randy off again. It took a long time for their screaming to stop.

* * *

Constables David Mulachy and Cindy Mountjoy were on highway patrol looking for speeders when they received the radio call from Audrey, the dispatch officer. "Papa echo one-nine, come in, Dave. Over."

"This is papa echo one nine receiving, over," Cindy answered in a voice which showed her annoyance that it was always Dave's name mentioned by the female operator and never hers. She thought it was obvious that Audrey fancied Dave, even though she was married.

"Papa echo one-nine, attend Blue Lake at Karingily see a Mr. Clive Hamilton in the car park. They have found a body located in one of the caves, over."

"Sorry, control, could you repeat, did you mean a corpse, over?"

"That's a Roger on the dead body. Check the validity of their story, secure the area, and make sure it's not some kind of hoax. Use lights and siren and make all possible speed there. At this time, we do not know the full circumstances, although Mister Hamilton insists the body looks like it has been there long enough to partially decompose. Check for obvious signs of foul play and report in. Protect the integrity of the scene for a forensic investigation. Over."

The two officers were stationed at the Busselton Police Station, and loved the lifestyle there. Both were single, though Cindy had recently started a relationship which she had high hopes for. They enjoyed the beaches and relaxed way of life, and relatively low incidence of crime, which made it an ideal posting, being reasonably close to Perth. Other than the usual drunken fights on a Friday night, traffic offences, and the occasional break-in at someone's holiday home, serious crime was almost nonexistent. The two had noticed of recent times the increased incidence of drugs affecting the youth of the area, which was worrying. They discussed if the death was related to an overdose during the drive.

They made good time to the lakefront, where they were met by a man frantically waving at them as he stood beside a four-wheel-drive wagon. He looked agitated, and approached their car before it ground to a halt, raising dust and gravel.

"Mr. Hamilton? I'm Dave, this is Cindy, I believe you've found a body?" he said as he stepped out of the car, adjusting his belt as he did.

"Yes, up in the caves along the track. My son is very upset and I want to get him out of here. We are staying at the Oceanside Caravan Park at Yallingup. Is it all right if we leave now?"

"Your son actually saw the deceased?"

"Yes, he ran ahead of me. Look it's too distressing for him here. I want to get him away from this place. We drove back and hung around here because the sergeant on the phone said I had to. I've done that and now want to get back to the caravan park."

"I understand, sir, and thank you for doing so. But if you don't mind, I'd like you to show me where the body is. I haven't been to these caves myself, but I believe they are extensive with a lot of different openings. How would it be if your wife left and took your children with her, and I will get Cindy here to run you back once you've shown me where to go?"

Clive shook his head and muttered under his breath as he turned on his heel. He strode back to his car, which had the engine running to keep the air conditioning going so the temperature stayed as low as possible; the day had grown progressively hotter. Maureen put the passenger side window down as he approached and Clive leaned in through the opening.

"Hey, champ, how are you doing?" he asked his son, who just nodded a reply, looking out across the lake in the opposite direction to the hiking trail they had taken.

"What's happening?" his wife asked and followed that question with another. "When can we get out of this God forsaken place?"

"They want me to show them the right cave. They have suggested you get off now, and they will drive me back to the caravan park by cop car, once I have."

She nodded, seemingly happy with the compromise. "Okay, that makes sense. I don't want to stay here another minute longer. Randy, are you feeling all right if I drive us back now?"

He nodded, still staring out the window, with a faraway look on his face.

"Get him back, love. Take him to a doctor or hospital even, if needs be. He may be suffering quite a bit of shock."

She didn't reply, but opened the door causing Clive to step back so she could walk around to the driver's side. Once back in the car she put her seat belt on, adjusted the seat to her driving position, and without a word, put the transmission in drive. The wagon sped away across the gravel and showered Clive's lower legs with small stones.

Understandable. She seemed only intent on leaving the place that had brought her son so much misery, as quickly as possible.

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "Glimpse, The Beautiful Deaths"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Stephen B. King.
Excerpted by permission of The Wild Rose Press, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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