An Eye for an Eye (Detective Kate Young)

by Carol Wyer

  ‘It doesn’t add up, does it?’ said Emma. ‘She applied for three different positions at Coventry before wheedling her way into a job there, but then dropped it to take a lower-paid job in Stoke. It all points to her wanting to be in Stoke to find her nephew. I haven’t had a chance to follow up on any of these Stoke numbers that Faith called. I’ll do it straight away. Somebody might be able to corroborate our suspicions.’

  ‘That’s definitely the way to go,’ said Kate. ‘Check if a woman asked about a Zimbabwean boy. Do we know his name?’

  ‘We’ve not heard back from the embassy yet,’ said Morgan.

  ‘Ring them again. Tell them it’s a matter of urgency and might involve the death of one of their citizens.’

  Morgan made for the internal phone, but Kate halted him with, ‘Hang on a sec. If Faith, or Hope, or both of them, are behind these murders, we can assume they’re out for revenge. They could hold others responsible for this boy’s death – Raymond Maddox, Cooper Monroe and Superintendent Dickson. Somebody that hell-bent on seeking vengeance won’t give up yet. They think they’ve outsmarted us, and they probably don’t know we’ve uncovered his body so there’s every chance they’re sticking to their plan. It’s just a question of who are they likely to go after next.’

  ‘Raymond,’ suggested Morgan. ‘He owns the club. And besides, the other two are out of harm’s way. Cooper is in custody and the superintendent is at a safe house.’

  The thought of Dickson jogged her memory. It was almost 6 p.m., and Kate still hadn’t read Chris’s journal. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to open it. Now was the time. There might be something in it that would help her bring Dickson into the heart of this investigation. He’d received Ian’s eye for a reason. ‘I’m going to request that Superintendent Dickson remains at the safe house for the time being, until we can locate Faith and maybe her sister. As for Raymond, we’ll put out an alert for him. If we can’t find him, the chances are, neither can the killer. We’ve got a lot riding on this, and if we’re wrong—’ Her words hung heavy for a moment, then everyone sprang into action.

  Kate’s phone buzzed. Ervin had news. She put him on speakerphone so they could all hear what he had to tell them. ‘My apple expert says the apples you found in the bin are the same variety. We’re testing for DNA, but as you know it takes time. Terry Wiggins is examining the body we found earlier today.’ Terry was a forensic anthropologist who worked closely with Ervin in a laboratory further down from him in the same corridor. ‘We’ve extracted DNA samples, but we can’t identify him yet. There appear to be no dental records for him or anything to suggest who he was, other than a young African male aged about fifteen.’

  ‘No distinguishing marks?’

  ‘Nothing. I have a team sifting through the waste you brought across and we haven’t yet found anything else of interest in there.’

  ‘Can you look for evidence of a second person, other than Faith?’

  ‘There’s not a lot to give anyone away. There are no prints even on the butter wrapper or milk bottle. They were wiped clean with bleach.’

  ‘Who cleans a milk bottle they’re throwing away so thoroughly?’ asked Morgan.

  ‘Somebody who knows fingerprints and DNA can lead to identification. Faith didn’t want whoever was staying in the apartment to be discovered,’ Kate replied.

  ‘I know I flagged the idea of Hope staying with her sister,’ said Emma. ‘But we’ve been speculating, and what if, actually, Faith has no idea what’s going on? What if the person staying with her isn’t Hope and is actually the murderer? They might have wiped her place clean and even kidnapped or harmed Faith.’

  Kate paused for a heartbeat. Was it possible? If it was, it would blow her theory out of the water. She wasn’t going to show any signs of doubt. ‘No, we’ll stick to our guns. We know Faith was searching for somebody in Stoke. Follow that up and we might have an answer. Is there anything else, Ervin?’

  ‘Yes. The blood we found on the carpet and on the paperweight is definitely female and . . . you were right. The fibre Faith claimed came from toilet tissue did not. It is identical to the fibre we found in Xavier’s nose. For what it’s worth, I think you’re on the right lines searching for Faith.’

  Kate folded her arms. There had to be a way to establish the identity of the boy in the clearing. ‘Ervin, can you run avuncular DNA tests against the blood and the victim we found today?’

  ‘We could. Do you really think the boy is related to Faith?’

  ‘I’d bet my life on it,’ Kate replied.

  ‘Then I’ll see what I can do.’

  Ervin rang off, and while Morgan and Emma fell to their tasks, Kate still had two unanswered questions. How was Dickson involved in all of this, and how could she prove he was? The answer might lie in the journal back in her house.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  WEDNESDAY, 9 JUNE – LATE EVENING

  Faith checked her watch. It was coming up to eleven thirty and she’d been in position in her car for over half an hour. She’d rung the house an hour ago using the pay-as-you-go phone, and nobody had answered. Cooper wasn’t in, but she was patient and she knew his daughter would be back from her late shift at the cinema. The girl would know his whereabouts. Faith would make sure she got it out of her.

  She leant her head against the padded headrest. She was tired – mentally and physically exhausted, but the fire that had burned inside her for months was still alight and wouldn’t be extinguished until she had accomplished all she had set out to do. She could have done with more time, but Kate Young had a sixth sense when it came to murder investigations and was getting far too close for comfort. It was time to bail out. They’d soon identify the blood left at the Maddox Club. She’d been unaware of the injury, believing she’d only been bruised in the scuffle with Xavier, and cursed herself for her carelessness. Now, there was little time left to uncover what she needed to know. Kate was closing in. She was tenacious and irritatingly good at her job. Another officer might not have whisked Ian Wentworth’s laptop away, preventing Faith from examining it first and erasing any clues. And another DI wouldn’t have thought to ask about apple varieties. Macoun apples. It had been Faith’s private joke – a variety that not only grew in Juliasdale but at the same orchard where her sister worked. Apples, a fruit linked to temptation . . .

  Alex Corby opens the door. ‘How can I help?’

  She lifts her ID. ‘I’m one of a team investigating a delicate situation you might be able to help me with.’

  A deep furrow appears between his eyes. ‘I don’t know how I can be of assistance.’

  ‘It’s regarding this young man.’ She holds up a photograph of Joseph, and Alex studies his face. He shows no surprise, only puzzlement.

  ‘I don’t know him,’ he says.

  ‘Would you mind if I come inside for a minute?’ She gives him a quiet smile and open eyes – the picture of innocence.

  He hesitates. ‘Well, I don’t know how I can help you, but sure, come in.’

  He leads her into a vast dining room, perfect for what she has in mind, and as he offers her a seat, she pulls out a syringe and sticks it into his neck. His eyes glaze and he tumbles to the floor.

  When Alex comes to, he is bound in the chair, groggy but alert enough to recognise he is in danger.

  ‘What?’ he slurs.

  ‘Save your energy,’ she says. ‘I need answers, and quickly. Did you go to the Maddox Club in January?’

  He blinks, tries to clear his head. ‘I think . . . so.’

  ‘Who did you go with?’

  The drug is working. He is fuddled. ‘Ian . . . and John. Dinner.’

  ‘Ian who?’

  ‘Wentworth. My friend, Ian.’

  ‘And what is John’s full name?’

  ‘Dickson.’

  ‘Who is John?’

  ‘He’s police. Super—’ He loses consciousness briefly.

  She is not surprised by this revelation. People from all profession
s have fetishes. She slaps his face and he comes round.

  ‘What is the Gold Service?’

  ‘How do you know?’ His voice fades as he speaks.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Prostitute service for members.’

  ‘You had sex with a prostitute in January, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes – sorry, Fiona – mistake.’ His head sags to one side. The drug, GHB, is confusing him, making him believe he is dreaming all this.

  ‘Did you have sex with a boy as well?’

  ‘No-oh.’

  ‘Did John Dickson?’

  ‘I . . . don’t know.’

  ‘Did you not talk about it?’

  ‘No. Ian . . . gone in the morning.’

  ‘Gone.’

  ‘Breakfast with John. Ian gone.’

  ‘Ian Wentworth disappeared overnight?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did he sleep with a prostitute?’

  ‘Yes . . . boy . . . lots of noise . . . screams.’

  ‘You heard somebody screaming in his room?’

  ‘Screams, noise.’

  ‘You didn’t go and find out who was screaming?’

  ‘No. With girl. Viagra. Couldn’t stop. Sorry, Fiona. The girl meant nothing. I love you.’

  She slaps his cheek and his eyes snap open and he mutters, ‘Ian’s an okay bloke . . . mistake. Paid. They got paid.’

  ‘Ian hurt him.’

  ‘I want to go to sleep.’

  ‘What happened to the boy?’

  ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘Did you see him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did Ian talk about him?’

  ‘Go away. It’s none of my business what happened,’ he mumbles before losing consciousness again.

  His response irritates her. He’s covering for his friend. Alex is as guilty as the bastard who made her nephew scream. Sweat prickles at the nape of her neck. Ian injured or killed her nephew, and this man did nothing about it. She reaches for the choke-pear, a tool she’s had made for the purpose. It is a replica of an original but works as well as those it was modelled on. Originally used for heretics and liars, it is the most appropriate device she can think of for this task. She forces it into his slack mouth and, using the screw, unfolds it. His eyes fly open and he tries to speak.

  ‘You had your chance to confess, to tell me what happened. Every time you lie, I’m going to drop a piece of apple down your throat, and you might or might not choke to death.’

  He struggles weakly and Faith picks up the first piece of apple, formed into a minuscule cube. She dangles it in front of him.

  ‘Is my nephew dead? One blink for no. Two blinks for yes.’

  One blink.

  She drops the apple and his eyes widen as it falls to the back of his throat and disappears. He gurgles and struggles. His eyes water but the piece frees itself and he is still alive. She reaches for a second piece.

  ‘Is he dead?’

  Alex blinks twice quickly.

  ‘Good, now we’re getting somewhere. Did Ian kill him?’

  Two blinks.

  ‘Do you know what he did with the body?’

  One blink.

  ‘Oh dear. Not helpful.’

  She watches as he twitches at the sight of the apple. She lets the piece go. This time the noises are raw and panicked, but he survives.

  ‘Did you help him bury Joseph?’

  Two blinks.

  ‘Did you bury him near Ian’s apartment?’

  Two blinks.

  ‘In the park near his apartment?’

  Two blinks.

  ‘In the lake in the park?’

  Two blinks.

  She sighs. He’s lying. She knows Joseph is nowhere near the apartment. Alex is lying to save his skin, but it is too late. She lifts a piece of apple, watches him blink over and over again, then drops it. She’ll get nothing more out of Alex Corby.

  There was no movement outside on the street. Faith didn’t mind. She was patient. Patient beyond all expectations. She’d planned this perfectly and was going to see it through to the end. She wanted to know where Joseph had been buried and wouldn’t leave until she did. As for the remaining two people who’d played their part in this . . . she might have to leave them alive. Even though it rankled, she had to consider her own self-preservation. She had to remain one step ahead. She permitted herself a small smile. She was always one step ahead.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  WEDNESDAY, 9 JUNE – LATE EVENING

  Morgan yawned and stretched, arms high above his head. ‘We’re unlikely to get anything from the Zimbabwe embassy until tomorrow. I’ve sent emails but, obviously, their phone lines are closed.’

  Kate agreed they couldn’t make further progress. She’d been assisting Emma by contacting all the charities and hostels and church wardens Faith had rung, to no avail. In many cases, personnel had changed, and those they spoke to had only been volunteering for a few months, well after the time Faith had rung them.

  Emma was currently speaking to somebody at the church of St George’s and St Martin, and Kate decided it was time to call it a day. They were all exhausted. She stood up, easing the tension from her back and neck. They had many pieces of the jigsaw, but no killer or killers yet. Yet. They would find them.

  Emma caught her attention. ‘The Reverend Father recalls Faith ringing him. She asked about two boys.’

  ‘Two?’

  ‘She was searching for two refugees who had made their way to the area and were living rough. They’d been spotted sleeping in his church. He says he spoke to them once, arranged places for them to shelter and didn’t see them again. They told him their names were Abel and Joseph.’

  ‘No surname?’

  ‘No, but Faith said one of the boys, Joseph, was her nephew.’

  ‘Then the body we discovered could belong to either Joseph or Abel,’ said Morgan.

  Kate frowned. This threw things out. ‘If I’m going by the woven bracelet on the boy’s wrist, then I’d say it was Joseph, but I suppose it could be Abel.’

  ‘If the boy in the grave isn’t her nephew, it will change the whole investigation,’ said Emma.

  Kate sat back down again. Everything pointed to Faith being the killer, but what if she wasn’t? What if somebody else, related to Abel, was behind this? She needed to think, and she couldn’t. Her head was jammed with conflicting arguments to the point where it threatened to explode. ‘Call it a night. Maybe the morning will help us find focus, and Ervin might be able to turn up more evidence.’ She reached for her bag. She was drained.

  The internal phone rang and Morgan took the call. Kate, searching for car keys in the bottom of her bag, almost didn’t pick up on the sudden energy in his voice. ‘Right. Cheers, mate.’

  ‘Who was that?’ she asked.

  ‘Tech boys. They got a ping on the pay-as-you-go mobile.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Abbots Bromley.’

  Kate let go of her bag, which fell with a thud. ‘Cooper lives in Abbots Bromley. She’s after Cooper! She doesn’t know he’s in custody. When did they get the ping?’

  ‘Two minutes ago.’

  Kate rested her fingers on the edge of the table and lowered her head. They had to act. Think! A shiver raced across her shoulder blades. Cooper’s daughter might be at home alone. ‘Ring his house, immediately!’

  ‘Sierra works at the Cinebowl Entertainment Centre in Uttoxeter,’ said Emma, searching through her notebook for the girl’s phone number. ‘It shuts late. I doubt she’ll be home yet.’

  ‘What time does she get off shift?’ asked Kate.

  Emma glanced at her watch. ‘Probably about now.’

  ‘Shit! It’ll take us half an hour at least to reach Abbots Bromley.’

  ‘She’ll have to catch a bus from Uttoxeter. We might have time,’ said Emma. ‘Found it.’

  ‘Give it to Morgan. Morgan, ring and warn her not to go home, send a local officer to watch over her and then join us
at the house. Come on, Emma.’ Kate snatched up her bag again and was out of the door in a flash. She looked to the stars in the night sky and hoped they were aligned in her favour. If she’d called this correctly, the killer might be in the vicinity of the house, hoping to track down Cooper. If she’d called it wrong? She couldn’t consider the possibility.

  As Kate tore down the A50, blue light on, she rang William on the hands-free.

  ‘What have you got?’

  ‘At the moment, we don’t know if we have one or two suspects. We’re headed in the direction of Abbots Bromley, to Cooper Monroe’s house.’

  ‘Do you want back-up?’

  ‘It might be too soon for that, and I don’t want to alert a killer to our presence. Let us deal with it in the first instance.’ She rang off.

  Emma glanced at her from the passenger seat. ‘You didn’t tell him it was Faith we were after.’

  Kate didn’t answer. She had a gut feeling she shouldn’t divulge everything to William. For some insane reason, she was sure he was relaying everything back to Dickson, and until she’d read Chris’s journal, she didn’t want him to be in the know. She was saved from saying anything further by an incoming call from Morgan.

  ‘Sierra isn’t answering her mobile. I rang the cinema, and she left fifteen minutes ago. By my reckoning, she’ll be almost home.’

  ‘Shit! Okay, we’ll see you there. Make sure you turn off the blues and twos. I don’t want to alert Faith, or whoever it might be, to our arrival. Park down the road and approach on foot. What’s your ETA?’

  ‘Eighteen minutes.’ He wasn’t far behind them.

  ‘Let us know when you arrive.’

  Faith’s patience had been rewarded. Sierra was walking down the road, head lowered, unaware of Faith observing her from underneath the trees opposite the house. She waited while the girl unlocked the front door and for lights to come on. The curtains weren’t drawn in the kitchen, and Faith watched Sierra remove her coat and cross the room several times, busying herself with a tin and a bowl. She heard the girl call, ‘Crystal! Here, puss. Come on. Dinner!’ The shouts were followed by clattering on a tin dish, followed by the bang of the back door as it shut again. The girl returned to the kitchen, traversed the room left to right and back again. It was time.