by ML Rose
The detectives’ office was empty, apart from Roslyn, Lisa, and Rob, who were huddled over Rob’s laptop. Harry strode up to them. He carried two boxes of Krispy Kreme doughnuts and when he put them on Roslyn’s table, she cheered. Rob stood, stretching.
“Got all the images here, guv. I think we see their person of interest, but to be honest, he could be anyone.”
“Good work. Rob, would you mind getting some coffee?” Rob nodded and walked off towards the small kitchen that housed a sink, a coffee machine, and a fridge. Arla sat down between Lisa and Roslyn and pulled the laptop towards herself. “Show me.” Harry stood behind her, leaning forward.
Lisa clicked on the keyboard and four boxes appeared on the screen. She pointed to the top left and pressed play. Cars zipped past the busy road and so did several pedestrians. Many had their coat hoods up, or wore hats. The vast majority of the clothing was dark-coloured, and Lisa pointed to the one man wearing an almost white jacket. The hood was up and when she cropped the view and zoomed in, the fur lining of the hood was visible.
Arla felt a tingle of excitement. The man’s clothing, at least, matched the description Rebecca had provided. Lisa clicked on the screens again and the view zoomed back. She pointed to the other cameras, which showed the same view from the opposite side. They saw the man full-frontal now, and noticed he was wearing dark glasses.
“Zoom in,” Arla said. The close-up view showed a man whose nose and mouth were covered by a ski mask, in addition to the glasses. Together with the hood of the parka, only the forehead was actually visible. But he was a tall, wide-shouldered Caucasian man and that gave Arla a faint flicker of hope.
“Put signs up on that road, and ask witnesses to come forward. Some people would have noticed him. He’s the only one wearing a white coat.”
Roslyn asked, “Looks like a ski jacket, right?”
Arla said, “Yes, and I’m sure it would provide camouflage in the snow. If he was hiding in the Common, that would make sense.” She pointed at the screen and tapped at the man’s legs. “His trousers are also cream-coloured. No one wears that in winter.”
Lisa’s fingers hovered above the keyboard again and the images started moving. The camera still faced the man, who took a right turn into Rebecca’s road. He disappeared from view due to the lack of cameras.
“We pick him up at the end, over here.” Lisa pointed to the bottom-right edge of the screen where now the camera showed the man coming out of the street and taking a left. He walked to a bus stop and then got into a bus numbered 240.
Lisa zoomed in to the back of the bus. “I’ve already sent an email to the schedule master of Arriva, the company who runs that bus route. Doubt I’ll hear back tonight, but will chase it up tomorrow. If we can get the bus driver’s name, it’s worth questioning him.”
Arla smiled at her. “Good work, both of you. Help yourself to a doughnut.”
Rob returned with a tray of six coffee cups. He knew what everyone wanted and put down a steaming cappuccino in front of Arla. She blew on it and took a sip gratefully. It had been a strange and haunting day. She wondered what tomorrow would bring.
Harry walked around and pulled up a chair at the next table, where Rob also sat. He was the only one, Arla noticed, who wasn’t eating a doughnut. “Not hungry, Harry?” she asked between mouthfuls. To her mind, a combination of these doughnuts and cappuccino with chocolate sprinkled on top was her idea of heaven. She swallowed and took a long sip of the coffee. She could finish that whole box by herself! She also realised she had skipped both lunch and dinner. No wonder she was famished.
“Did Parmentier come back from the crime scene?” she asked.
Roslyn shook her head. “I was the last to leave. Darren and his team are still there, together with Parmentier. They might have left by now, but two uniformed squad will alternate to keep watch overnight.”
Arla nodded. “Killers often return to the site. It’s a ritual for them. You never know what the uniforms could find.” She thought of the bleak, inhospitable Common. Icy, wet wind whistling through the trees. It made her shiver.
“Did anyone get in touch with Rebecca’s family and Grant Stone?”
Roslyn said, “I did, guv. Her mother has called me back and we can see her tomorrow morning, she says. I didn’t tell her what we found today, though.”
“No, it’s best for mother and daughter to be in touch before we do. Any news from the pop star?”
Harry raised a finger. “I left a message with his secretary. He hasn’t got back to me as yet.”
Arla put her coffee cup on the table and sighed. “Well, it’s early days yet. Get a good night’s rest, because tomorrow will be super busy.”
Arla stood and put both hands on her bump as she felt her baby kick. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to crash. She looked around at the team. It was past eight o’clock and they were still here, doing overtime.
“Go home, all of you. Switchboard has my number and if I hear something, I’ll let you know.”
She waved them goodbye and walked into her office. She couldn’t help thinking of the man in the white winter coat, his face hidden so effectively. He might not be the person she was looking for, but there was something distinctly weird about him.
He knew the camera locations on the main road, because he knew when to hide his face. Which meant he had done surveillance beforehand. That pointed to some training. Was he a former policeman? Intelligence officer? Army?
He had gone to great lengths to keep his identity a secret. She sat down at a table with a sigh and pulled the laptop towards her. She fired it up, and began typing up a report for Johnson.
Harry came in and sank into a chair in the corner of the room. He pulled up another chair and put his feet up on it. She caught his eyes and he gave little shake of his head. Then he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. She knew he was giving her time to finish the report. The office was empty now; even the cleaners had come and gone. Arla wrote as fast as she could. She had no suspects in mind at the moment, but the main person of interest was the guy on CCTV. She sent the report off as an attachment to Johnson. She got her shoulder bag and put the laptop inside it.
“Why are you taking the laptop?” Harry asked, his hand on the light switch. She walked past him as he flicked the switch off and shut the door.
“I’ve got to do some work after we get home.”
Harry stared down at her and frowned. “I think you need to rest when you get home. This can wait till tomorrow.”
Her chin jutted out as she scowled. “No, it can’t, Harry. Don’t tell me what to do.”
She turned and walked ahead of him, safe in the knowledge he would be following close behind.
CHAPTER 28
The snow crunched under Rhys’s boot and he stopped. He could see the blue and white police crime scene tape fluttering between the trees. He was a couple of hundred yards away, and from where he stood, he knew the police wouldn’t see him. He was dressed as a jogger, in black Lycra and thin runner’s jacket. He was taking a risk by coming here, but Rhys had survived so far in life by taking risks. He thrived on them, in fact; the thrill of the chase gave him an adrenaline rush like no other.
A uniformed constable, wearing a heavy black coat which had London Met written in big white letters, stood near the path that diverged into the woods. The man’s job was to watch out for any inquisitive visitors or the press, but also to look out for a man who would match Rhys’s physique.
Rhys suspected the police had accessed the CCTV cameras from the main road and might have an idea of what he looked like. True, he had covered his face very well, and walked with his shoulders drooped, not meeting eyes with anyone, but there would still be witnesses. Thankfully, there were no cameras on Baskerville Road.
Rhys started to run again, a slow jog. He smirked to himself. Of all the houses that Jeremy could’ve bought, he had to choose one on the road without cameras. The street had its own private securit
y, a van that rolled up and down both in daytime and after dark. But Rhys had learned its schedule very easily. The idiots never varied their patrol times and it was easy to avoid them.
As the path circled closer, Rhys took a good look at the crime scene. He couldn’t see much, but there was movement. Forensic officers would be there still, taking photos, collecting samples.
He felt a pang of remorse and his eyelids fluttered. He hadn’t wanted to do this. But Rebecca had left him with no choice. Not only did she leave him, she also married Grant Stone’s nephew. How could she? She was the only person who knew.
Well, this is the payback, Becky, he thought. And I’m just getting started.
Rhys cast one last, longing look at the crime scene as he ran past it. The uniformed constable didn’t pay him any attention. All he had to do was take a few steps and he could have grabbed Rhys. That made him smile. He made a point of staring at the constable, hoping their eyes would meet. They did briefly, but then the man looked away. Adrenaline surged inside Rhys’s veins. If only that stupid policeman knew how close he had come to apprehending the culprit.
Rhys kept running and the crime scene was soon obscured behind the dense clump of trees as the path curled around. He was extremely fit and ran ten miles three times a week. Rhys liked looking after himself. Women fell for his classic good looks and he prided himself on wearing the best clothes money could buy. He increased his pace, pumping his legs harder. He felt better for coming here.
The excitement was worth the risk, but his pace faltered as the baby’s face rose up in his mind like a bad dream. Breath shook in his chest as his hands clenched. He couldn’t control the unspeakable urges that overcame him. He had learned to live with them, but when they washed over him like a tidal wave, he had to succumb.
He had lived through enough horrors to know how heartbroken Becky must be feeling right now. A tinge of sorrow swept through him. He wished he could comfort her. Tell her what happened. She wouldn’t understand, but he would make her. His face contorted into a snarl.
He ran straight down the path, opting to skirt the edge of the Common, making a circle. This way, he could see the crime scene again but from the other side. Unfortunately, the view from here was worse. He could still see their blue and white tape flickering in the breeze, but he had to look for it.
That was one of the reasons, he realised, why there hadn’t been much media interest. He had checked this morning’s papers and found nothing about Rebecca Stone, or her missing baby. And nothing at all about the body found in Clapham Common yesterday.
Rhys smiled. He ran till he came to the car park and got inside his Volkswagen. He powered up his phone and stared at the screen. It was time to let the world know.
CHAPTER 29
The shrill buzz of the alarm woke Arla up. She reached out one hand and slapped the digital clock on the bedside table. Her head fell back on the pillow as she groaned. She had tossed and turned the whole night, unable to get comfortable.
She had only fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning. She could feel Harry’s warmth, and he moved closer, pressing his body against her. Their feet entwined and she could feel his growing erection pressing against her side. He lifted himself on one elbow and leaned over her. His mouth found hers and they kissed slowly. She could feel the heat growing between her legs, and she moaned, pulling him closer. His finger squeezed her already sensitive nipples and she gasped. Harry trailed kisses down her neck, pushing down the strap of the slim negligée that she was wearing. She arched her chest upwards when he took one of her nipples into his mouth. She moaned his name.
“I’m right here, “Harry said. He kissed her swollen abdomen, then down her thighs. Gently, he notched her legs open, then positioned himself in between. “And I’m about to get closer,” Harry said, as with one fluid movement, he thrust inside her.
*****
By the time they showered and left her apartment, it was almost seven a.m. While Harry parked the car, Arla picked up a cappuccino and a mocha from the cafeteria and headed to her office. A group of overnight uniformed officers walked past them and they greeted each other. She put down the cappuccino on Harry’s desk and entered her own office. She didn’t have any messages waiting and now that she had handed over the on-call SIO duty to Justin, the stack of papers waiting in her in-tray was noticeably shorter.
She turned on her laptop to find emails from Roslyn. The enterprising detective sergeant had already gotten hold of the call lists from the phone numbers Arla had given her. She replied to Roslyn, thanking her. Then she printed out the call lists from the phones of Jeremy, Rebecca, and Edna Mildred.
She sipped her coffee as she went through the printouts, circling any numbers she saw more than once. She cross-referenced as well, to see if there were any common numbers. Between the three lists, there were none. Jeremy’s call list was the most active and she noted the numbers he had called several times over the last week. In comparison, Rebecca barely called anyone.
Arla noted a number she had called on a regular basis, and wondered if it was her mother. Of course, calls were a minor part of Rebecca’s social interaction, which took place mainly on Instagram, Facebook, and other social media apps. Getting hold of those records would take time, Arla knew. She flipped open her own phone and went through Rebecca’s Instagram feed. In the first week after giving birth, Rebecca had posted several times, showing off her new baby in different parts of her home, and once even in the garden. But after that, over the last three weeks she had made a handful of posts, and none of them had featured the baby. Arla went through all the comments on the Instagram feed that were posted after the baby photos. She stopped when she came across an odd comment. It was from an account called The Final Countdown.
“Whose baby is it anyway?”
After the comment there was an emoji of a broken heart and an arrow going through it. Arla frowned and scrolled through the rest of Rebecca’s baby photo feeds. The same user appeared several times.
“Innocence is easy to kill, sins last forever.”
“A baby is for life, not just for Christmas.”
An emoji of a dog on a leash followed this comment. Black waters of disquiet rustled at the corners of Arla’s mind as she went through the comments. They all took aim at the baby and Rebecca, either being cruel or sarcastic, and a couple of times, frankly threatening. Arla stopped her scrolling when she got to the final comment left by the user.
“Should a child pay for the sins of its parents?”
Arla put the phone down, her mind in turmoil. She glanced at her watch; it was close to eight. She picked up the phone and rang the cybercrime unit, hoping she would get lucky. John Williams answered after the fourth ring, to her delight.
“John, this is DCI Baker.”
There was a fumble on the phone, a clearing of the throat, and John’s nerdy, high-pitched voice came down the line. “Oh hi, hi, hi. I mean, good morning, DCI Baker.”
Arla smiled despite herself. Harry always maintained that John had a soft spot for her. He did act flustered and nervous whenever Arla spoke to him, which she found quite endearing. John was a total geek, but also totally harmless.
“I need to find the identity of an Instagram user called The Final Countdown. And before you ask, I can’t find anyone with the same moniker on Facebook or Twitter. I suspect he created this account just to follow Rebecca Stone on Instagram. She does have more than one million followers.”
John breathed heavily down the phone for a few seconds, and she could hear a keyboard clacking. “Okay, give me a few minutes, please.”
Arla gave John the information he needed, then hung up. He called back in five minutes. “I found his IP address.”
“Good. Can you get me a location?”
“There’s no geo-link on the IP address. Which means he’s probably using a VPN. I can still hack into it, but it will take some time. Even when I do find the VPN, it could belong to a router anywhere in the world. Like China, for ex
ample. This is how a lot of social media users hide their true identity.”
“Try for me, please, John. This person has threatened Rebecca Stone online. We have to see if similar comments were made on her Facebook or Twitter feeds. He didn’t use the same name, but stalkers tend to follow their targets on every platform possible.”
“No need to search manually. If you can tell me what the comments were like, I have an artificial intelligence program that will search for similar comments on her feeds. You’ll get an answer very quickly.”
Arla grinned. “It’s all about machine learning these days, right?”
“For searches like these, it’s very useful. I’ll call you back as soon as I have something interesting.”
Arla hung up the phone as Harry walked in. Behind him she could see the detectives drifting in, heading for their tables.
“Any news from Parmentier?” she asked.
Harry shrugged. “I haven’t checked my emails as yet. Shall I just call him?” Arla nodded and Harry went back to his desk. When he rapped on the door and entered five minutes later, it was with the bespectacled, veteran scene-of-crime officer himself. Arla leaned back in her chair. “You didn’t have to get up just for me, Derek.”
Parmentier sighed and sat down. “You’re a hard task-mistress, DCI Baker. But you know I’m a glutton for punishment.”
He opened up a notebook from his satchel bag. Harry sat down opposite him. Arla lifted a hand. “Don’t start till the others get here.” She picked up her phone and rang Lisa, who answered. When Rob, Lisa, and Roslyn were in the room, Parmentier started.
“The scene was open to the elements, and that’s always a problem. Freezing temperatures are good for DNA samples, but water and chemicals on the ground can cut through the chemical bonds that DNA molecules are made of. Hence, a lot of the ground samples we collected might be negative for DNA.”