'Actually, I was born here,' he explained.
She felt another twist in her mind as he admitted his place of birth.
'Why are you happy telling me this?'
'Because I trust you.'
She could see people walking past the gate to the small churchyard, hear the low mumble of voices talking in the alleyway.
'You're wrong to trust me,' she said. 'After the things you've done I will only ever want to bring you down.'
'I understand, but you're bright enough to know that if you had tried just now then it wouldn't have been you that I killed.'
She looked at him and saw the truth in his eyes. He knew to simply run would have been pointless, she would have chased him until her lungs burst or her legs gave way. No, he would have maimed an innocent passer-by and Odette would have stayed to try and save the victim while Plymouth vanished into the melee, the air filled with screaming and horror.
When the car door opened, she snapped her head around as Bannister scrambled into the seat.
'Christ, I could have laid an egg and cooked it myself by the time those buggers got it done. Look at that, it's meant to be a breakfast on the go,' he held up the sorry-looking bun and scowled at it. 'It looks like most of it has already upped and gone.'
Odette managed to force the image of Plymouth from her mind as Bannister handed her the coffee.
'Has Lasser been in touch?' he asked.
'Not yet.'
Glancing down at the phone in her hand he caught sight of the name before the screen went blank.
'Who's Craig?'
'Good God, you're a nosey sod.'
'We're detectives, Odette, we get paid to be nosey.'
Slotting the cup in the holder, she turned away to look out of the window.
Bannister placed the food on the dashboard and waited. 'Are you going to tell me or not?'
She didn't turn to face him, instead she kept her eyes glued to the world beyond the confines of the Audi. 'He's a friend.'
'Met him in the Lakes, I take it?'
'Mm.'
'Well good on you, it's about time you hooked up with someone.'
'We're not ''hooked up'', we're friends.'
'You know what I mean. Anyway, what does this Craig do for a living?'
'He's an outward-bound instructor.'
'Brilliant, maybe he can get me a discount on a new jacket.'
Odette glanced sideways expecting Bannister to be grinning at her, but his face was deadly serious. 'Berghaus or RAB, I can't decide, and your new fella will be ideally placed to give me the lowdown on the best one.'
Odette kept the barbed reply behind compressed lips.
'Hey, you never know he might be able to persuade Lasser to spend some cash and get a new pair of boots.'
Inside Odette felt like screaming.
14
Randal Archer woke with a start when the truck horn blared, he blinked into the rain and winced as his bones creaked with the cold.
After trudging the streets, he had headed out of town before hunching down in the doorway to the chip shop. Now, he yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes before pushing slowly to his feet. He couldn't carry on like this, he needed somewhere to hide out, somewhere safe and out of this fucking weather. But, more importantly, he needed to get out of town and lay low for a while. He thought of the black car pulling up to the kerb, Minnie had looked back towards Randal and then she was gone. He had been in the flat a couple of days later when it came on the news about the body of a young female being found by the side of the road, somehow, he had known it had been Minnie. The following day he had been on King Street when one of the girls had pulled him to one side and told him that Lasser was looking for him. Ever since then his life had spiralled out of control, whichever way he looked at it he was being hunted.
Randal looked left and right before stepping out into the rain, his eyes narrowed, the wind blowing into his face. He was left with no choice, he would have to go to the flat, he had a couple of hundred quid hidden in a sock at the back of a drawer. The thought of heading back to the high-rise and finding Lasser waiting in the shadows turned his blood to ice but he had no choice, another night out on the streets would surely kill him. Pulling up the collar on his jacket, he trudged the streets trying to find the courage to head home to his flat, but all the time his feet were already leading him straight back there.
15
The woman read the email, she was sat on the sofa wrapped in a bathrobe, her bare feet propped on the coffee table. Firing off a reply she waited, taking a sip from her morning coffee before heading over to the window. The view was dismal, the rain heavy and relentless, when her computer pinged she ignored it, her gaze looking down at the town below.
She had slept well, reliving the death of the man named Clark as she closed her eyes. She had woken only once – as she pictured the knife plunging into his chest – her eyes had snapped open in the dark, her teeth bared but she had rolled over and settled again.
Turning from the view, she walked to the sofa and sat back down before picking up the tablet.
When she saw the reply she smiled, another fool reeled in, another animal who would soon be ensnared in a trap of her making.
His name was Clem Bartle, he could be married with a family, but in the end, it didn't matter who he was or what he did. She would play the game and then when the time was right she would kill him. Though this time she needed to be careful, the police had found Clark and they would be looking to find out why he was in the woods late at night and why he had ended up dead, another body so soon would set the alarm bells ringing and the police would redouble their efforts to find the killer.
She smiled down at her faint reflection in the tablet screen, she would do her best to hide the body, but she didn't intend trying too hard, and if the police upped their game then she would just have to be more careful.
Looking up at the ceiling, she thought about how to phrase her reply. She had used Haigh Hall so obviously for now it was out of bounds. She pictured several places locally each offering the right terrain, the right level of seclusion.
Over the last few months, she had walked through four separate stretches of woodland and now she tried to decide which one to choose.
Looking back at the tablet, she clicked on the attachment and opened the image, it showed a man on a mountain bike, his arms smothered with tattoos, his shoulders big and bulky, his neck steroid thick, legs like huge hams. The woman doubted whether he would be able to ride the mountain bike for long, he was too heavy, too rigid, it was all for show to give the impression of fitness.
Then she tried to place the man in the right terrain, she wanted it to be a challenge but the more she studied Bartle's image the more she realised that he wasn't up to the job. For a couple of seconds, she considered aborting the mission but then her face hardened.
'Not a chance,' she whispered as she typed in the time and destination before pressing send.
Then she sprawled out on the sofa and closed her eyes, all being well she was in for a busy night. The smile was still on her face as she drifted off to sleep.
16
Lasser had left Roger at Clark's house trying to get into the dead man's computer, telling him to contact him if he came across anything dodgy.
Now, he was driving back through the town centre on his way to the hospital, Bannister had been in touch and told him to go there for the lowdown on Clark, saying he would meet him there in the next twenty minutes.
Lasser tried to concentrate on the case but his mind felt agitated with images. Ruby on her doorstep smiling sadly, the pint of milk clutched to her chest. Lasser sighed as the wipers went into overdrive, he had been the one to blame for the relationship crumbling, unable to give Ruby what she needed. But she had moved on and now she seemed happy with the guy called Kev.
As he headed into Wigan, the traffic started to build, spray flying from the truck in front as he swiped a hand across the misted windscreen inside.
The weather seemed to match his mood, then he gripped the wheel tight as he thought of Minnie Burrows, her abused body dumped like a sack of rubbish by the side of the road yet here he was feeling sorry for himself because he had no love life.
Snatching out a cigarette he sparked up, his eyes narrowed against the smoke as he trailed the truck, his view of the road obliterated by the image of a cow smiling at him from the back doors of the trailer.
He reached the hospital just as he had finished the cigarette. Parking up, he climbed out, tossed the stump away and rushed to the entrance.
Once inside, glad to be out of the rain for a bit, he shook himself and wiped a hand across his face, then made his way to the lift and down to the mortuary. Getting out he automatically turned left, his feet taking a well-worn route to the doc's lair.
Rapping his knuckles on the door, he opened it without waiting for an answer to find Bannister and Odette facing the doctor who sat in a swivel chair behind his desk.
Odette glanced over her shoulder and smiled before turning back to Shannon.
'Grab a seat,' Bannister said, waving a hand to a chair in the corner of the room.
Lasser did as he was told, dragging it to Odette's side and sitting down.
Shannon smiled at him through the beard.
'What have you found out about Clark?' the DCI asked, leaning forward and turning his head to look at Lasser.
'He lives next door to Ruby Ross and…'
'One of your ex's?' Bannister asked in surprise.
'You make it sound as if I've left a trail of broken-hearted women in my wake,' Lasser grumbled irritably.
Bannister threw his head back and laughed. 'That's the best joke I've heard this year, it's always the women who dump you, Sergeant, not the other way around.'
Shannon cleared his throat and Odette sighed, both turning to Bannister who was grinning like a loon.
Lasser folded his arms, his eyes full of latent anger. 'According to Ruby, Clark fancied himself, she said he was the kind of guy who wouldn't take no for an answer.'
The smile fled from Bannister's face. 'Playboy then?'
Lasser didn't look at the DCI. 'He has a gym at home and black silk sheets on the bed, plus trophies for having the biggest biceps.'
'Do we know which gym he used?' Odette asked.
Lasser looked at her and saw a hesitancy in her eyes, almost as if she were holding back on something, the sight of it made his stomach tighten.
'Thorpe's gym,' he replied. 'I think it's over Atherton way.'
'Right, as soon as we're done here I want you to head over and check it out,' Bannister demanded.
Lasser nodded but kept his mouth closed.
'Right, Doc, what can you tell us about the muscle man?'
Shannon opened the file on his desk and glanced at the first page. 'As Lasser alluded, Mr Clark liked to hit the gym, though he went way beyond a few miles on the treadmill and a sauna.'
'Steroids?' Lasser asked.
Shannon nodded. 'I found several traces in his blood sample as well as insulin.'
'''Insulin''?' Bannister asked in surprise.
'Used for muscle growth, a lot of body builders are sensible about the mixture of drugs they take, some are not so careful.'
'And which category did Clark fall into?'
The doctor looked at Odette, his beard quivering. 'Well, his bloods are within acceptable parameters though one or two readings were at the outer limits.'
'Were any of the drugs illegal?' Lasser asked.
'Not as far as I can tell. When it comes to the serious body builder then some will hire the services of a private doctor, they will do regular blood tests and manage their intake on a weekly basis.'
'Christ, you can wait years to get a new hip, yet these buggers have no problem finding a doctor to pump them full of shit,' Bannister said in frustration.
Shannon shrugged. 'That's about the size of it.'
'What about physical and psychological effects?' Odette asked.
'I was talking to Shaun Rourke and he had a friend who ended up dead at twenty-seven because of the body building. According to his wife it ended their sex life, and her husband's mood swings were off the scale,' Lasser said.
'That's not uncommon, especially amongst those who aren't monitored properly,' Shannon admitted. 'They usually have high levels of testosterone in the body which gives them the energy to work longer and harder. Of course, coupled with some of the other medication it can affect a number of things both mentally and physically. Impotence can be one of the side effects along with the mood swings.'
Bannister leaned forward slightly. 'So, they have what they see as the perfect body, but they can't manage an erection?'
'In some cases, yes.'
'And they have all this testosterone flying around their bodies, so the urge is there, but the body is unable to act on it?'
Shannon looked at the DCI and nodded.
Bannister eased back in his chair, his face thoughtful. 'Lasser thinks that Clark was chasing someone through the woods when he was killed, what do you think?'
For a moment Shannon looked surprised. 'I have no idea, I can tell you what was in Clark's bloodstream but not how it affected him psychologically.'
Bannister tugged at his ear lobe before looking at Lasser. 'You still think Clark was playing the caveman?'
Lasser thought for a moment before answering. 'If we look at what Ruby said then we have a man who was full of his own sense of importance. She said he looked her up and down and asked her out even though he knew she had a boyfriend.'
Odette glanced sideways at Lasser, but he kept his gaze locked on Bannister's face.
'I get that,' Bannister said. 'Though it still doesn't explain how he ended up dead. Say Clark was like a raging bull and he took a woman up to the Hall, things got out of hand and she made a break for it, he chased her through the woods, then by rights we would be looking at a dead female not the other way around.'
'Clark weighed almost seventeen stone,' Shannon said. 'He might have been able to run for a short distance, but he would soon have slowed down.'
'Meaning whoever he was chasing should have been able to get away.' Odette commented.
'Unless Clark was the one trying to escape,' the DCI remarked.
'I can't see that,' Lasser said with conviction.
Bannister threw him a sharp look. 'Why not?'
'Because he saw himself as an alpha male, he had trophies on the mantelpiece, he thought he was the perfect male specimen, so running away wouldn't have been in his psyche, his ego wouldn't allow it.'
'You don't know that,' Bannister folded his arms, his brows knitted together.
'Lasser could well be right,' Shannon suggested. 'It takes a certain kind of vanity to train the body to that extent and as the body grows so does the self-belief. They feel superior in every way, so backing away or running from any form of confrontation would be highly unlikely.'
Odette slid the zipper down on her jacket and Lasser caught the subtle scent of her perfume. 'OK, say he was chasing someone, if Clark was slow then why didn't the runner simply give him the slip, why did he end up dead with a knife wound to the chest?'
Shannon shrugged his heavy shoulders again. 'Like I said, I have no idea about that side of things, that's more your area of expertise.'
Odette smiled as Bannister harrumphed by her side.
'What about Minnie Burrows?' the DCI asked.
The smile slipped from Odette's face and Shannon looked suddenly sorrowful.
'I've rechecked the samples and any evidence or DNA was destroyed by the bleach.'
'Bastard animals,' Bannister hissed as he rose to his feet. 'Right, Doc, thanks for the help,' he said as he headed for the door with Odette and Lasser in pursuit.
Shannon watched them go before taking a banana from his pocket, within seconds he had peeled it and took a bite.
17
Randal Archer pushed the door open to his flat, his sense
s on high alert as he hovered in the doorway.
When the door to the flat next door opened he panicked and slipped inside his own, closing the door and locking it quietly, his hands shaking, his brow slick with sweat.
After a few seconds, he blew out in relief before turning and walking into the cramped living space. He glanced at the battered sofa, the cushions flattened, the small coffee table littered with the debris of the long-term, single male.
Hurrying into the bedroom, he went straight to the small bedside cabinet. Yanking the door open, he pushed the meagre collection of socks and boxer shorts to one side before grabbing the sock that contained the money. Pulling out the cash, he thrust it deep into his pocket and headed over to the rain-streaked window. He had lived here for over ten years; some people thought the flats were the pits of the earth, but Archer had always liked it here. Living on the twentieth floor he could spend hours looking out at the town spread out before him, watching the ant-like people moving along the street, the cars moving back and forth along the roads. In the distance he could see the parish church standing grey behind the swirling rain.
Moving back from the view he sat down on the bed and closed his eyes, his clothes felt damp against his skin and he yanked his coat off before throwing it to the floor.
Archer yawned, his mouth wide, the heat from the radiator having a slumberous effect on him. When he tried to push himself upright he found that his legs didn't work, with a groan he rolled over onto the bed and pulled the crumpled duvet over his shivering body, kicking his feet until his trainers fell to the floor with a soft thud.
Closing his eyes, he let exhaustion claim him, his mind full of images of past beatings, when the face of the man behind the wheel of the car ballooned in his brain, Archer whimpered in his sleep.
18
The woman opened her eyes, she could hear the wind blowing outside, the rain battering the windowpane.
Her head on a cushion, she lay unmoving, allowing her mind and body to wake up of its own accord.
Blood Bought Page 6