‘Already?’
‘Fast-tracked. Cost a bloody fortune.’ She sipped her tea. ‘If you were anyone else, I’d be arresting you.’
‘Or ordering some uniforms to.’ Ignoring her churning stomach, Caelan took a mouthful of tea, wincing as it scalded the roof of her mouth. ‘I presume we’re talking about the murder of Ronnie Morgan?’
‘We are. You had the opportunity, you had a motive, we have physical evidence. Then I come to your home and find you living in a palace.’
‘A palace?’
‘Your take-home pay is what, about three grand a month? You told me you own this place outright. The least these apartments sell for is between six hundred and nine hundred thousand, and it’s often considerably more. Even with a mortgage it would be impossible. The sums don’t add up.’
‘What are you saying?’ Caelan thumped her cup onto the table.
‘How do you afford to live here?’
‘You mean, does Seb Lambourne own the place, let me stay if I continue to work for him?’
‘This isn’t the time to be stubborn. People are already asking questions.’
Caelan touched her index finger to her lips, giving herself a second to gather her thoughts. It was pointless to lie. Brady wouldn’t need to do much digging around to uncover the truth.
‘I inherited the apartment,’ she said finally. Brady’s eyes widened.
‘Someone left it to you?’ She whistled. ‘Bloody hell. Who?’
‘I’m surprised you don’t already know.’
Brady narrowed her eyes. ‘I’m not going to like this, am I?’
Caelan laid her hands on the table, palms down. ‘It came as a huge shock to me. I didn’t want it, tried to refuse, but I couldn’t. Legally, the place is mine.’
Leaning forward, Brady cradled her mug between her hands. ‘Tell me who left it to you.’
Caelan licked her lips, unwilling to say the words. ‘It was Nicky. Nicky Sturgess.’
Brady took a second, opened her mouth. Closed it. ‘Your colleague left you this property? Nicole Sturgess, the officer Seb Lambourne killed?’
‘She hated being called Nicole.’ Caelan lifted her hands to her cheeks, her chest aching. ‘I didn’t even know she’d made a will; certainly never expected to be the beneficiary.’
Brady put down her mug, her eyes never leaving Caelan’s. ‘What was your relationship? I assume you were more than colleagues? If not, Nicky was the most generous workmate on earth.’
Caelan shoved back her chair and staggered to her feet, wrapping her arms around her body. Blindly, she made it to the window, her cheeks already wet. She knew Brady was watching her, could feel her concern, her curiosity. Let her wait. She hadn’t yet had to say the words out loud, and once she did, the wall she had built around herself would come tumbling down.
She scrubbed at her eyes, her throat raw. Far below, one of the boats that provided sightseeing tours up and down the Thames was cruising past. Caelan gazed down at the people on board, well muffled against the cold air. At the front of the vessel stood a young couple, arms around each other’s shoulders, heads close. How would it be to view London through their eyes? To explore, admire the sights, absorb the history holding hands with the person you loved? She blinked, pressing her lips together. It was a dream. Once she had agreed to go undercover, she had turned her back on the chance of casually wandering the streets of London.
She heard Brady get to her feet and move to stand beside her. A touch on her shoulder. ‘Caelan?’
Slowly, she turned. She lifted her hands, covered her face. Brady was silent, waiting. Caelan allowed her hands to fall to her sides, her eyes meeting the other woman’s.
‘Nicky and I … We were together.’
Brady stared. ‘Together. You mean …?’
‘Yes. Partners, lovers, whatever you want to call it.’
‘You were a couple.’
Caelan managed a nod. Telling Brady felt like a betrayal of Nicky, of their time together, but what choice did she have? It would come out in the end; better to be honest now. ‘We hadn’t been together long; it was early days. No one knew, at least no one we worked with.’
Brady moved back to her chair, shaking her head. ‘But you were there. When she …’
The memories hitting like punches. ‘When she was murdered. Yes, I was.’
‘You saw it happen.’ Brady’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion.
‘Saw it, heard it. Tried to help. Watched her die in my arms.’ The room blurred as Caelan fought to maintain some semblance of composure. ‘I know that as colleagues we shouldn’t have, but …’
Brady shrugged. ‘These things happen, as we all know. God, Caelan, I can’t imagine.’
Caelan took a shuddering breath, straightening her spine. ‘It’s okay. I’m okay. I’ve had some time to try to live with it. It just … It’s so fucking unfair. Nicky shouldn’t even have been there. It wasn’t her case.’ She sat back down, her arms hugging her body again. Brady allowed a silence to develop.
‘How had Nicky managed to buy this place?’ she asked eventually.
Caelan sighed, not wanting to talk about it, knowing she must. ‘She hadn’t. It was part of her divorce settlement. She was married briefly, to the son of a stupidly wealthy businessman who treated her like crap. I don’t know many of the details, but to them, a place like this was little more than a cupboard. I think they thought Nicky was getting the shitty end of the deal.’
Brady puffed out her cheeks. ‘I wouldn’t complain.’
‘He beat Nicky, kept her locked in their bedroom. Handcuffed her, tied her up. Did what he wanted to her, took photographs for his mates to laugh at. Believe me, you wouldn’t have wanted to be in her shoes. No one would.’
‘Why did she marry him? Especially if she was gay.’
‘She was young, didn’t know herself. He was charming at first, dazzled her with presents and holidays. She was impressed, flattered.’ Caelan looked up at Brady. Smiled. ‘We all make mistakes.’
‘What happened to him?’
‘His mother found out how he was treating Nicky, got her out of the house.’
‘Did she press charges?’
‘What do you think?’
‘They paid her off so she kept her mouth closed.’
‘They gave her a settlement, yes.’
‘What about him?’
‘His parents packed him off to the US.’
Brady stared. ‘He got away with it?’
Caelan shook her head. ‘One of Nicky’s brothers and a few of his mates paid him a visit before he left.’
‘And what, they sorted him out?’ Brady’s tone made her distaste clear. ‘Wouldn’t it have been better to let the law deal with him?’
Caelan got to her feet again, turned away, gazing out over the Thames. The sun was hidden now, grey clouds queuing across the sky. ‘What does it matter? Nicky’s gone.’ She went to the window, touched a fingertip to the cool glass. ‘Lambourne saw to that.’
Brady was on her feet, standing beside Caelan. ‘And you decided to punish him.’
Caelan’s head jerked up. ‘What?’
‘Come on, Caelan. You’ve been gunning for Lambourne since Nicky died. You tracked him to Egypt, but couldn’t find him there. You made new plans. You killed his son, partly as revenge for Nicky’s death, partly to attempt to draw Lambourne out of hiding. You planned to capture him, have the satisfaction of knowing he’d die in prison, still mourning his son.’
Caelan’s heart thumped, her skin prickling. ‘You should write fiction.’
‘I don’t need to make it up. We have all the evidence we need. We have proof, Caelan.’
‘I’m sure you can manipulate the facts to suit your theory. You knew about the flat, didn’t you? Knew when you gave me a lift home. Guessed about me and Nicky.’
Brady didn’t deny it. Caelan was silent, knowing she would have to fight.
‘You were clever.’ Brady’s voice was soft. ‘Who are you working with?’
‘What?’
‘You couldn’t have shot at yourself yesterday.’
Caelan sighed. ‘We agree on that, at least.’
‘Is it Walker? Where is he?’
‘Fuck off.’
‘Tell me, Caelan. If you want to help yourself …’
‘Are you wearing a wire?’
Brady blinked. ‘A wire?’
Caelan flapped an impatient hand. ‘You know what I mean. Are you recording what I’m saying, broadcasting it to someone?’
‘You and I are talking. No one’s listening.’ Brady sounded sincere, but Caelan shook her head despairingly.
‘No, not even you.’
‘Then tell me. I’m your last chance, Caelan. Make me understand.’
‘How can I? I don’t understand myself. You were the one who suggested Nicky hadn’t died, hinted that you had suspicions about Charlie Flynn’s death and Lambourne’s escape. You told me people were out to get me.’
Brady’s eyebrows flickered. ‘The evidence—’
‘Where’s the gun?’
‘What?’
‘If I shot Ronnie Morgan, what did I do with the weapon? It wasn’t discovered in the underpass, or the surrounding area. It wasn’t found on my body when I was strip-searched and swabbed.’ Caelan knew her voice was shaking, her fury barely contained. ‘How did I make the gun disappear in less than a minute? Richard Adamson was behind me; he’d have seen if I’d left the underpass to dispose of it. Even if I had, it would have been found.’
Brady said nothing, and Caelan knew she was here on a fishing trip. She knew Caelan wasn’t guilty but had no idea who was.
‘We’re wasting time,’ Caelan went on. ‘Standing here playing guessing games when we could be finding Walker.’
‘Do we need to?’
Caelan bit back a scream. ‘Yes. It was no accident, no coincidence that he was on the train. He wanted to speak to Ronnie Morgan. Someone wants me out of the way, is working hard to ensure I’m convicted of murder. I want to find out who.’
‘We’ve released a still of Walker’s face from the CCTV footage this morning, asking anyone who’s seen him to come forward.’
‘I thought you wanted to wait?’
‘I did, but now we need to act.’ Brady rubbed the small of her back, moved over to her chair. ‘If we want to find him, we need help.’
‘You mentioned evidence. What is it?’
Brady laughed as Caelan sat back beside her. ‘The gun Brendan Milne threatened Sam Clifton with was not the one used to kill Ronnie Morgan. The striations on the bullet don’t match Milne’s gun, which hadn’t been fired recently anyway. We’re still missing a weapon.’
‘What about the shots fired at us yesterday?’
Brady’s face was grim. ‘From the same gun used in the murder of Ronnie Morgan.’
‘Fuck.’
‘That was my reaction.’
Caelan crossed her legs. ‘And you still think I shot Ronnie?’
‘Or your accomplice did.’
‘The one who deliberately missed me yesterday?’
‘That’s him. Or her.’
‘Is there evidence from the underpass?’
‘Loads, as you’d expect from a public area. Hairs, threads of fabric, vomit, blood, saliva …’
‘Lovely.’
‘Semen.’
‘Well, it’s a romantic location. Any matches?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Not even to me?’
‘As I said, not yet, but we know you were there.’
‘If you’re not going to arrest me, why are you here?’
‘I was passing, heard you were in your pyjamas.’
‘I’m supposed to be off duty.’
Brady stretched her neck, wincing as she tilted her head. ‘I don’t want anyone to know we’re having this conversation.’
‘Really?’
‘Haven’t even told Tim. The boss knows, mainly because I had to explain why I wasn’t arresting you.’
‘Beckett?’ Brady nodded. ‘Why the secrecy?’
‘Come on, Caelan, you already know the answer. Someone is doing their best to set you up. In my mind, there are only a few people with the knowledge and opportunity to do so.’ Brady held up a hand, counting on her fingers. ‘Richard Adamson, Michael Nasenby and Ian Penrith. Sebastian Lambourne, Glen Walker.’
Caelan blinked. It was the obvious conclusion, one she had drawn herself, but hearing Brady say the names made it real. ‘Penrith has been wanting me sacked and prosecuted for weeks.’
Brady held up her other hand and made a fist, extended her thumb. ‘Elizabeth Beckett.’
‘No way, she—’
‘I don’t care how high up the ladder she is, whether she’s the Commissioner’s right-hand woman. She lost credibility when Lambourne escaped. She’s powerful and influential. We’d be stupid not to include her.’
Caelan had to admit it made sense. ‘You think I’m being naïve?’
‘These are people you work with, have had to trust. It can’t be easy to think about one of them potentially trying to destroy you.’
‘Elizabeth Beckett wanted me back in the fold, asked Adamson to talk to me.’
Brady spread her hands. ‘And?’
Resting her elbows on the table, Caelan allowed her head to fall into her hands.
‘Adamson couldn’t have shot Morgan,’ she said.
‘I think he could. We’ve only his word for it that he was behind you all the time. He could have left the station before you, gone to the far end of the underpass, shot Ronnie, gone back across the road and then run up behind you.’
‘There wouldn’t have been time.’
‘There would. Three of my officers did a reconstruction.’
Caelan lifted her head. ‘Seriously?’
‘Wouldn’t have said so otherwise. Adamson’s not off the hook. Gunshot residue was found on his clothes, his hands.’
‘We knew it would be; he was there. It’s not conclusive.’
‘He was in Lincoln too.’
‘At Penrith’s request.’
‘And Nasenby’s.’
‘Can I ask a question?’
‘You don’t usually ask permission.’
‘How do I know I can trust you?’
Brady had her phone out, her finger swiping across the screen. ‘Honestly? You don’t.’
‘But you’re not sure you can trust me either.’
‘True.’
Picking up their empty mugs, Caelan took them through to the kitchen, set them in the sink. Brady had followed her. Caelan leaned against the worktop, the ceramic tiles cool under her bare feet.
‘What about Tim Achebe?’
Brady looked up from her phone. ‘What about him?’
‘Can I trust him?’
‘Yes, but you’re working for me. Speak to me directly, no one else. As far as Nasenby and the others are concerned, you’re out of action.’
‘How are you going to continue the investigation if everyone thinks you’ve arrested me?’
‘They won’t, because we can’t. Our evidence is circumstantial.’
‘But you said—’
‘I know.’ Brady grinned. ‘Like I said, you don’t know if you can trust me.’
Anger erupting again, Caelan clenched her fists. ‘You lied to me.’
‘No. We could arrest you, based on the evidence. Doesn’t mean we will.’ Brady left the kitchen, reappeared holding the black briefcase she had brought with her. Setting it on the work surface, she opened it. ‘Here you go.’ She stood back, allowing Caelan to see what was inside.
‘A gun? I don’t want it,’ Caelan said immediately.
‘Tell me that when you’re being shot at again. Brendan Milne asked Sam for your name. They want to find you, Caelan.’
‘I don’t want the gun. I don’t like them.’
‘Me neither, especially when they’re being pointed at my officers, used in my city. Take it.’
&
nbsp; Caelan stared down at the weapon, squat and ugly. She hated firearms, had done all the time she was being trained to use them. The noise, the smell, the responsibility. Guns were still so rarely used in the UK, she had only occasionally been ordered to carry one …
‘Why didn’t you shoot him?’ Brady said, as if reading her mind.
‘Who?’
‘Lambourne. You knew he was armed; it would have been justified. If you’d shot him dead, you’d have been a celebrity.’
‘My life’s ambition. I wouldn’t. I’d have been hated.’
Brady nodded. ‘Destroyed by our glorious press.’
‘And by social media, like Sam was.’
‘We’re trained to preserve life. If you thought Charlie Flynn was alive, killing Lambourne would have saved him for sure.’
‘We didn’t want to start shooting with Charlie there. We thought, we all thought Lambourne and Walker would be captured as soon as they left the house. There were enough people around.’
‘That’s why you let them go?’
‘Why I did, yes. I can’t speak for Sam or Nicky.’ She touched the gun with a fingertip. ‘I could have killed Lambourne. I wanted to, seeing him grab Nicky, raise the knife …’
‘Why did he kill Nicky? Why not you, or Sam?’
‘I was on the left, Sam on the right. Nicky was in the centre, blocking their path.’
‘And she didn’t shoot either?’
‘It happened so quickly. No. None of us fired a shot.’
‘I’m struggling to understand why.’
‘I told you. We believed Charlie was alive. If we’d starting shooting in a space so small, we could have killed him ourselves.’
‘And when you discovered he was dead?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Quite a thing to come to terms with.’
Caelan lifted the gun, felt the weight of it. She looked at Brady, wondering. Why had she brought the weapon here? Deliberately, watching Brady’s eyes, she slid her finger onto the trigger. Her prints would be all over the weapon now. Brady didn’t react, and Caelan frowned. ‘You think?’
‘I’d imagine it would be devastating.’
‘You’d be right. But we had no choice, we were sent in there blind. If we’d known Charlie was dead, we could have killed Lambourne and Walker, and Nicky would be alive.’
‘Alive and living here.’
Ask No Questions Page 16