Secrets and Lies

"And that brings us to the fourth incident," Phoebe announced.

"Our victim is one Valerie Townsend, age thirty-two, software engineer from London," she read from her phone, "Ms. Townsend and her partner were spending the week in a bed and breakfast just east of Brockenhurst. Apparently they're both into nature and hiking, they were doing a lot of that in and around the Royden Hills Nature Reserve."

The redhead tapped her phone screen before moving on to the next part, "The attack took place on the evening of Thursday November fourteenth, when the victim decided to go out by herself for an after-dinner walk. Her partner opted to stay in for the evening, but became concerned when the victim hadn't returned after an hour."

"The partner's name is Gabrielle Hoffman. Age thirty-four, works in London in the financial sector," she added. "Hoffman tried calling the vic's mobile, and when Townsend didn't answer Hoffman enlisted the B&B proprietor's help."

"The two of them found the victim on a trail roughly half a kilometre into the nearby woods. Hoffman immediately rang nine nine nine, police and an ambulance were dispatched to attend the scene. The victim was treated by the EMTs, then rushed to hospital in Southampton where she underwent surgery. She was discharged from hospital on Tuesday November nineteenth."

Phoebe concluded, "Medical staff said the injuries were consistent with an animal attack, and police attributed it to a pack of wild dogs that's been stalking the New Forest area for the past couple months."

"Like the others this is all coming from traditional news and social media posts," she added as she looked up from her phone. "So there's no detailed information on the nature or extent of the injuries. Terry's still working on getting us the official police and medical reports."

I nodded slowly, "Thanks Feebs. This fourth attack seems like a significant break from the pattern, don't you think? Making some assumptions since the first one's missing rather than confirmed deceased, but the first three victims were all men, all farmers, and all locals. And presumably all deceased."

"Then we get to number four," I frowned slightly. "A woman, not from the area, and she survived. If we were looking at this as a criminal case, that's enough of a break in the pattern that I'd be wondering if the fourth attack was by a copycat. Unless there's other matching evidence, like something concrete to link all four attacks to the same perp. Hair, DNA, other trace evidence, that sort of thing."

My partner shrugged, "If the police think it's wild dogs I doubt they'd bother digging that deep. Or would they? How would you have handled this case as a cop?"

I glanced at her then replied in my best droll tone, "You may be surprised to learn that we don't actually get a lot of fatal wild animal attacks in the Greater London Area."

"Seriously though," I continued after getting an eye-roll from the redhead, "The Met investigates any unusual death or injury. Once the ME confirmed an animal attack we'd probably turn things over to Animal Control. Or in the case of the survivor we'd interview her, then after she or her doctor confirmed it was dogs then same thing. We're interested in keeping the public safe, but we deal with crimes and criminals. Not animals."

After a slight pause I added, "Most animal-related injuries in the city tend to be accidents due to mishandled pets. And in that case incidents can lead to the owner facing criminal or civil action, if there's evidence or suspicion of negligence."

Phoebe responded, "Pretty sure we can rule out mishandled pets or negligent dog owners. Once might be an accident, but four times is a pattern. And the first body going missing sounds a lot more like a deliberate act."

"Agreed," I nodded. Then another thought occurred and I commented, "Another possibility is someone using animals as a weapon. What if instead of wild dogs we're dealing with a group of trained attack dogs? Maybe someone's deliberately setting their hounds on innocent people for some reason."

That left a thoughtful frown on my young partner's face, "There's historical precedent, if you go back a while. Although it doesn't answer all the questions. Why are the attacks aligned with the full moon? What happened to the first victim's body? Why was the fourth victim so different from the first three? And why let her live, why not finish the job?"

I shrugged, "Answering those questions is why we're here. That's what being a detective is all about."

"Although you folks have access to resources we could only dream of," I frowned. "Up in Yorkshire you took some samples from the sixth body, I assume you gave those to Emma so she could scry for the culprit. Can we do the same with our survivor? Get some hair or nail clippings from her, use those as a link to the culprit?"

The redhead shook her head, "It's not that easy. I don't know all the details, not a seer myself, but Emma can do that with a murder victim because she says there's a strong psychic bond formed in the moment of death. It doesn't last forever though, a week to ten days at most, which is why we needed to get the sample from the most recent stiff. Earlier ones would have gone stale."

That left me with just one other angle, "What about samples from the attackers? Southampton police may have gathered trace evidence, or there may be medical samples at the hospital."

"Our witch can definitely work with that," Phoebe replied. "Even direct links can go stale though. When Martin and I smashed that thing's eggs we saved some samples and overnighted them to Emma. So she had them within a day, and that's how she was able to lead us to the old shed in the woods. A few hairs or some saliva that's two weeks old might get us a general area or a vague impression of the attacker. If we're lucky."

I considered that before shrugging again, "At this stage anything's better than nothing. Step one though is to interview our survivor."

My partner agreed. She nodded towards the fancy entertainment unit in the dash and suggested, "It's only mid-afternoon and we're nearly there. According to her social media our survivor works from home, so why not drop in on her right now? No point waiting until tomorrow."

That was a good idea, but I still hesitated. I glanced down at myself then over at the busty redhead and pointed out, "I'm not sure either of us are dressed appropriately for that."

Phoebe pouted again and grumbled, "Like I said, nobody's going to take me seriously now that I look so young."

"Well at least one of us needs to look the part," I replied. "We'll head to my flat first and get changed into something more professional. Then we can head over to Clapham and see if Ms. Townsend will speak with us."

• • • • •

It was just past three in the afternoon as we neared the building where I lived. It took another few minutes to find somewhere to park Phoebe's Grandland, and she didn't even comment when I pocketed the keys to her luxury SUV. Then it took us another minute or two on foot to get from the carpark to my flat.

"It's not much," I warned as I led my new partner inside, "But it's home. Until I find a place in Cardiff, I suppose."

The past few years I'd been living in a simple one-bedroom flat an easy walk from the South Croydon train station. It also had convenient access to plenty of nearby shops, along with a good selection of restaurants and take-aways. And being on the fourth floor meant I had a bit of a view, I could even see Roundshaw Park from my bedroom window.

Phoebe and I took turns getting freshened up in the washroom, then I closed my bedroom door and quickly changed into the sort of outfit I'd typically wear to work. That meant properly polished black shoes, dark slacks, an off-white long-sleeve blouse, and a navy blue autumn jacket. My phone and keys and things went into the jacket pockets, so I still didn't need to worry about a purse.

I emerged from my bedroom about the same time my busty partner finished updating her outfit in the washroom. She still wore the cute boots and tight leggings, but she'd added a knee-length pleated black skirt that helped. And she'd replaced her scoop-neck tee with a pale green blouse that didn't show off her cleavage. Finally she'd toned down the make-up so it was a bit more subdued. There wasn't anything she could do about her apparent youth or her short-stack figure, but at least she looked a bit more professional.

There was one last thing I wanted to do before heading back out, so I sat down on my sofa and had a quick look at the files Alys sent over. Not that I didn't trust Phoebe, but I liked to see the the dossier for myself just incase. There wasn't much more to learn though, my new partner had been pretty thorough when she read me the details in the car. And like she said, all the information came from either news sources or social media.

About the only thing she hadn't shared was a couple pictures Alys attached. They were selfies from the victim's social media, and they depicted a soft, shy looking woman of average height and build, with maybe a couple extra kilos typical of someone who spent most of her day sitting at a desk. Her skin was a little on the pale side, and her long brown hair hung down just past her narrow shoulders. Her home address was also in the file, and I had to assume that was Terry's work since I doubted Ms. Townsend would have shared that on her social media feed.

"Alright," I said as I got to my feet. "Let's go see if the survivor will talk to us."

I tucked my phone in my jacket pocket as I headed for the door. Phoebe followed, and we made our way back out to her Grandland. Traffic in and around London was fairly typical for a late weekday afternoon, so it ended up taking almost a full hour before we finally parked the SUV in front of Ms. Townsend's residence. That was a small but well-maintained two-story row house less than two blocks away from Clapham Commons.

"Nice place," Phoebe commented as the two of us emerged from the vehicle. "Software engineering must pay pretty good."

I shrugged, "I guess. Can't hurt that her SO works in finance."

"Let me do the talking," I added as we approached the door. "At least at first."

The young redhead pouted but didn't try and argue. Instead she stood a half step behind me to my right, while I reached out and knocked a few times on the bright red door. When the door opened a few seconds later, I found myself looking at a noticeably different Valerie Townsend.

I had no doubt this was the same woman, her face hadn't changed much from the selfies I'd looked at an hour earlier. But instead of the average height and average build I'd been expecting, I found myself looking at a tall women with a trim, athletic frame. Her long brunette hair looked a lot more vibrant in person than it had in her photos, same with her bright hazel eyes. And her once-pale skin now bore a healthy tan.

She still seemed kind of shy despite her recent glow-up, although there was nothing shy about her outfit. She was dressed in a pair of tight capris-style leggings that showed off her long legs and powerful thighs. And ontop she wore an even tighter too-short tee stretched over her strong shoulders and chest, that left her six-pack abs on full display. She obviously wasn't wearing a bra, but it was just as clear that her small firm bosom didn't need any extra support.

On the other hand, the way she kept herself half-hidden behind the thick sturdy wood door made me think she was somewhat timid or perhaps even scared, despite the obvious muscles on what looked like a strong fit body.

Another thing I noticed was the complete lack of any obvious bandages, or even scabs or bruises. I did note some old scars on her arms and around her neck and left shoulder, but based on how faint and faded they were they had to be at least five years old. Apart from her shy or anxious demeanour I couldn't see any indication that this was a woman who'd survived a vicious life-threatening attack just two weeks earlier.

"Good afternoon," I greeted her with a polite smile and my best non-threatening professional voice. "Are you Valerie Townsend?"

She nodded uneasily as her eyes flicked back and forth between me and Phoebe, "Yes that's me. What can I do for you?"

I replied, "I'm Detective Trillium Sharpe, this is my assistant Phoebe Campbell. We were hoping we could ask you some follow-up questions, about what happened to you in the New Forest earlier this month?"

Ms. Townsend frowned, and her voice sounded both suspicious and accusing when she responded. "I've already spoken at length with the police in Southampton. You people weren't interested in anything I had to say before, why do you want to hear it again now?"

"We're not part of the Hampshire Constabulary," I explained, "My colleague and I are with a special unit, tasked with investigating odd or unusual cases. The kind that sometimes slip through the cracks. I can assure you we're very interested in hearing what you have to say, if you'd be willing to speak with us."

Her eyes widened slightly, then after a brief hesitation she nodded. "Alright. Come in."

Soon enough the three of us were seated in a cosy living-room just off the front hall. Phoebe and I were seated together on a comfortable sofa, while Ms. Townsend settled into a large recliner to our left. She still looked anxious, and her posture was obviously guarded. She sat almost huddled ontop of the chair, hugging her knees to her chest. That gave me a better look at the faded scars on her arms though, and I was positive they were from defensive wounds. This woman was definitely an attack survivor, the only question was whether that happened two weeks ago or several years in the past.

"Why don't we start at the beginning?" I suggested as I took out my phone. I opened up the notes app then added, "In your own words, can you please tell us what happened?"

She took a deep breath then nodded, "Alright. Gabby and I were celebrating our third anniversary. We both love nature, we actually met on a nature walk in Devon, so it seemed perfect. The first four days were wonderful, but then on the Thursday things took a sour note. Gabby felt off that evening after dinner. Nothing too worrying, we both thought maybe she was just having a bad reaction to something she'd eaten? I felt restless though, so I decided to go for a walk to try and burn off some energy before bed. I'd only been out for about half an hour when it happened."

Her voice became much softer and quieter at that point, and her eyes focused downwards towards the floor rather than look at my partner and I.

"Something... Someone attacked me. The path was narrow, with trees and bushes close on either side. I didn't see or hear them coming. Just suddenly they were on me. She... they knocked me to the ground, and I screamed. I struggled, I tried to get away, tried to fight back, but they were so strong..."

Ms. Townsend's voice hitched there, and she hugged herself a little tighter before taking a deep breath to try and calm her nerves.

Her voice was even quieter when she finally continued, "They tore at my clothes, and their claws went through the fabric like it was nothing. Ripped my jacket to shreds, and my blouse. She wasn't gentle either, her claws left my arms and back bloody. Then she sliced through my pants, and pulled those off me as well. She flipped me over so I was face-down. I tried to escape, I ended up on hands and knees. Then I felt her body ontop of mine, holding me down, while their claws dug into my hips..."

Her voice trailed off and she shuddered, as if the memory was too terrible to say out loud. Phoebe and I waited quietly until Ms. Townsend was finally ready to continue with her story.

"That's when her jaws clamped down on my neck and shoulder," she mumbled, as her hand brushed against those faint scars I'd noticed around the left side of her neck.

Her voice was almost emotionless for the last part of her story, and just barely above a whisper. "I thought for sure I was going to die then and there. She didn't kill me though. Their jaws held fast around my neck and their claws dug into my thighs while they... Then they just let go. She jumped up and ran off into the woods. That's the last thing I remember, until I woke up in the hospital."