‘Girls? I tried with girls you know, but I could never perform. That was one of the problems with Carla. Just couldn’t do it. Christ, even when it was on a plate. She was unkind too then. “Just do it, for goodness’ sake”. Those were her exact words. At that moment, for me it was impossible. It was her eyes. Everything slowed down and I left, tail between my legs, you might say. I bet she told them all, and that’s why they all laughed on that fateful night. They knew my secret and they laughed.’ A false smile cracked his lips, but Carlos could sense the sheer resentment the incident had sown. ‘They’re not laughing now, though. Every cloud as they say.’
Carlos suddenly recalled the notebook he had found and he thought of the initials FL followed by the zero. ‘Do you have another name, Lloyd?’
Lloyd laughed. ‘Frank Lloyd Millington. I should have been a Gaskell but if I had my way, I’d be simply Lloyd.’ There was a moment’s pause. ‘Enough of this bullshit.’
Leaning over he snatched the coke can from Carlos’s hand leaving the straw dangling between his lips. He quickly removed it, replacing the gag and strapping his arm back to the chair.
‘I don’t know how to love, but I know how to hate.’
Within minutes Carlos heard the side door open and then close, the key turn in the lock and then all was silent.
April and Skeeter climbed the steps before entering the Major Incident Mobile Unit. Blue-and-yellow fluorescent chequering ran down either side; an awning from the roof hung over the now closed footpath. Three further police vehicles were parked behind, followed by an ambulance. April recognised Max Foster immediately, senior firearms officer and DI Peter Jones, one of the Crisis and Hostage negotiators; he was a highly trained police officer with many years’ experience.
‘We have a man on the ground on both parallel streets. Another is in position at the top of Parkside Road and one at the bottom. So far there’s been no activity. The property is occupied by a Mrs Margaret Millington and her son Frank Lloyd. The other son works down south and as far as we’re aware is still there. We’re trying to contact him. According to a neighbour, there’s also a long-term partner living in the house but he works on a Saturday in Liverpool and should be there at the moment. Again, we’re trying to make contact.’
Checking her watch April adjusted the time to match the digital clock within the unit. ‘We’ll go on the hour. Standard procedure for this one with your guys taking the lead. Front, rear and garden in one co-ordinated move. Once clear in all areas we will follow.’
Gold and Bronze were notified of the orders and further instructions were sent. Steve was ready along with the drone. His role was critical in monitoring the movements of friend and foe in the area of the house, a technique for which he had trained. He checked his watch before making final positional adjustments of the hovering drone in readiness.
The vehicles began to move. Once parked and in position the command to move would be given. Tensions always ran high at this juncture. Skeeter and April pulled on protective vests and high visibility jackets clearly marked with the word ‘Police’.
Chapter 29
Lloyd checked his phone. Rodgers should be at home but if not, he would wait. He slipped on a pair of glasses.
Bill Rodgers had just finished showering when his doorbell rang. He grabbed a dressing gown and pressed the intercom.
‘Mr Rodgers? Merseyside Police. Sorry to disturb you so early on a Saturday but we have some information regarding Debbie Sutch. I believe she’s a friend of yours. We need your assistance urgently.’
He had not finished the sentence when the lock clicked and the door opened slightly.
‘Come up. Second on the left.’ There was a slight shake to Rodgers’s voice.
Rodgers grabbed a towel and began rubbing his hair as the knock came on the door he had deliberately left ajar.
‘Thanks, sir. DC Frank Lloyd. Sorry, as I said …’
Rodgers stopped drying his hair and stared directly at the man entering. ‘Have we met before?’ Bill moved closer.
‘You came to the station, about the murders? I think we met briefly then.’ Frank Lloyd was making a huge assumption. Luckily it seemed to work in his favour.
Rodgers backed off.
‘However, we also met before, socially. We met just outside a pub off Lord Street, way before all of this murder and mayhem started. Debbie, your kind partner, stepped backwards and bumped into me. You and the rest of your now-diminished group thought it highly amusing – Cameron Jennings, Carla Sharpe and not forgetting poor old, Stuart Groves. All gone.’ He ran his finger across his throat. ‘As easily as that!’
Rodgers pulled a face. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ His aggression was clearly evident on his face.
‘I’m not a police officer, I’m a salesman, and I’m good at my job.’ He removed his glasses and tucked them into his pocket. ‘People believe me. I can sell sand in the desert.’ He paused and pushed the door closed with the back of his shoe. ‘I hate bullies. I’ve always been bullied, ever since I was a kid and I vowed that even though I can’t fight I can retaliate in other ways.’
Rodgers threw down the towel and moved towards the man, his fists formed and his face reddening.
‘Stop! Let’s think of Debbie Sutch. You really don’t want to upset or hurt me. That would be good for no one at this moment, least of all you. Right now, you’re responsible for the deaths of those people you called friends. You might even be responsible for one more death if you lay one, small finger on me today.’
The bizarre circumstances in which Rodgers found himself were clearly confusing. The idea that a police officer was suggesting that he was responsible for the deaths did not make any sense at all. ‘Where’s Debbie?’
‘Safe. Let’s sit like two sensible adults and talk this through. I killed them, all of them, starting with Carla. I hold up my hands – mea culpa, Mr Rodgers, mea culpa. But then, you forced me to do it so you were the one who metaphorically pulled the trigger. I simply held the gun.’
‘What the fuck are you on about! Are you for fucking real?’
Frank Lloyd remained calm even though he felt his heart could be seen pounding in his chest. He sat casually and waved his hand for Rodgers to follow. ‘No? You don’t want to listen to reason? Then I’ll leave and that will be it.’
‘You won’t leave here. I’ll fucking beat you bloody senseless, to a fucking pulp and then get the police.’
‘And then, you say correctly because and then.’ He emphasised each syllable. ‘Another life will be taken … an innocent life. I’ll never divulge where the person is hidden, neither to you nor the police. They will die eventually, locked away with no food, no water. A slow and dare I say it, if all deaths are not deemed to be cruel, a cruel way to die. All because of you!’ He pointed his finger. ‘Your friends need you now to act for them but not in your role as bully. They need you to be selfless! Mr Rodgers, nobody will ever make me reveal the person’s whereabouts. In the past, like now, I was frightened of you but at the moment this no longer applies. You see, the difference is, death no longer worries me. I’ve seen it, smelled it and, yes, it has a particular odour. In my mind I’ve flown over it like a winged god destroying to create. Destroying, Mr Rodgers, so that I can create this very window of opportunity to be with you.’
‘If anyone’s going to fucking kill anyone it will be me kicking you down those fucking stairs. You fucking nutter.’
‘Think for a moment of someone else and not yourself. You, Mr Rodgers need to listen and I need to speak. Is that understood?’
Rodgers paused and looked directly into the man’s eyes. They were empty. There was neither emotion nor a flicker of any feelings; they were as dead as those named within the group. He sat.
Skeeter could hear the sound of the drone to her left. It seemed a long way off but she knew its capabilities.
‘Nike is riding high.’ Turning, she glanced at the screen April held which showed a clear view of the house from the
air. She could also count the heat register from each of the numbered officers on the ground. She watched them disperse to their designated positions.
‘They go in three,’ April announced, as the final armed officers moved to the front door. One of the rapid entry team carrying the ram they liked to refer to as the ‘master key’, moved into position in readiness to break through the door. If Carlos was held in the building, the element of surprise gave him a greater chance of survival.
The sound of splintering wood and breaking glass was immediate. The multiple yells of the fast-moving officers as they entered followed swiftly on. Skeeter could hear the challenges – ‘Armed Police’ followed by the announcements, ‘Clear’ – as each room was searched. The process was rapid and efficient. April and Skeeter moved quickly once the building was secured and they had received clearance. There was no sign of either Frank Lloyd nor Carlos. However, they located his mother and her partner in one room. Understandably, both looked terrified. She was being comforted, and she wept constantly. The paramedics were brought in attendance.
‘No person left the garden or the area. As I can see from the images and the thermal registers, we now have quite an audience.’ Steve continued to follow commands from the operations’ director until satisfied the target was not present. The images would continue to be relayed after all officers left the immediate vicinity. A final low-level check would be completed before the drone was returned to the parking area. It would, however, remain on standby.
April, accompanied by DI Peter Jones, needed to extract as much information as possible from the distraught couple in the quickest of times. Skeeter just needed to take a look around, being conscious not to disturb too much. After what had just taken place her input on the scene was likely to be minimal. Within fifteen minutes CSI would be on site for DNA sampling to search for a connection with the previous sites.
Chapter 30
‘Thank you, Mr Rodgers. I’ve brought this to show you. It’s evidence to prove to you what I’m telling you is the truth. Firstly, I want to show you the last page.’
He turned to the relevant page before offering it to Rodgers. He could see the grainy photograph of his partner, Debbie Sutch. He returned his gaze immediately.
‘If you’ve fucking harmed her, I swear …’
Frank held up his hand whilst shaking his head. ‘You see, we two are no different. You would seek retribution just as I’ve done. Read it.’
‘“Goddess – Guardian angels live forever.”’
‘You’re a lucky man. Debbie is a kind, considerate woman. She was the only one that night to demonstrate any degree of human kindness. I would never harm one hair on her head. She cared about Carla too even though she knew about your ongoing relationship. She loves you. She keeps you from self-destruction. I think it was that factor that triggered all of this, flicked the switch somewhere inside my head. I don’t know why, I don’t.’
Rodgers let his finger run across the image of her face.
‘Now turn the other pages. Some are not too pretty.’
Frank studied every expression on his face, particularly when Rodgers stopped at his own image. He noticed he did not linger but turned and looked at the other photographs and read the comments. There was clear revulsion as he stared at them.
‘You’re one sick, fucking bastard. You want to kill me?’
‘Revenge is to be human. Revenge is said to be sweet. You know that, as you’ve practised it more than most. If I hurt Debbie, then what?’ He did not give him time to answer. ‘We waste time when you could be saving the life of an innocent man.’ He leaned forward and turned the pages until Carlos’s image stared back at Rodgers. ‘You could save this man. You know him as Carlos. He worked with Carla. He knew Debbie too.’
Rodgers tossed the book onto the coffee table placed between them. ‘What exactly do you fucking want? The police warned us to be careful as the killer would be unpredictable. We might be targeted next. They even offered protection. Debbie has it or so I believe.’
‘God will protect her. She’s safe.’ Frank looked straight into his eyes. ‘I want you to take his place. Take the place of Carlos.’
A long pause ensued.
‘Are you brave enough to do that? Are bullies ever brave, Mr Rodgers? If not, I will leave here and simply vanish. No one will find him. They might find me but not for some time.’ Standing, he moved towards the door. ‘What’s it to be?’
‘How far are we travelling?’
‘Fifteen minutes from here, but you need to change first.’
Looking at his feet, Rodgers moved swiftly around the table. ‘You’ll not leave here, you snivelling little gobshite, unless it’s in a fucking box.’
As he spoke his arms grabbed Frank’s clothing and drew him rapidly forward. Rodgers managed to connect his forehead directly onto Frank’s nose and upper lip as his head was whipped forward. The target point exploded in a mass of blood, snot and teeth. They broke through the top lip, crumbled parts of which slid down his chin showing white in a mass of pinkish froth. Pushing Frank’s lolling head away, he whipped it back again. His aim was now more accurate and the second head butt connected to the right eyebrow, splitting the flesh into a gaping, mouth-like wound. He had not finished. He threw him away yet again, only this time to gain the vital leverage that would allow his fists to pound the side of his head. The crunching thuds rained onto the collapsing man’s face. Even when on the ground Rodgers knelt and continued his onslaught. Both fists now pummelled the small defenceless target. His animalistic grunts accompanied each blow, his hands themselves were bloodied and raw.
A slow burble broke from Frank’s lips bringing with it blood red bubbles and pieces of broken tooth. His face had swollen rapidly and both eyes were almost invisible through the growing contusions and surface blood mass. The smashed nose no longer permitted the passage of air. He was slowly choking on his own blood. The incongruous thing was, a beatific smile appeared on Frank Lloyd’s lips. Rodgers struck him again before he rolled onto his back, his dressing gown open and spattered. To an observer they were like two broken marionettes. Getting to his feet he stared down at the man. Fear flushed through his system as the adrenalin began to dissipate. Pulling him sideways he cleared his mouth before picking up his phone and dialling 999.
Chapter 31
April and Skeeter were about to leave the Mobile Control Unit when the call came through.
‘Ma’am, he’s at Rodger’s apartment. He’s called for immediate emergency medical support. It’s on its way. The address …’
Running to the car April tagged the postcode into the sat nav and the tyres protested as the car pulled away. The screen showed eight minutes as their ETA. The Saturday traffic was busy, but Skeeter forced the car through gaps and red lights. The first respond paramedic vehicle was parked outside, the strobes still blinking blue as they arrived. Another police vehicle pulled in behind.
The paramedic was performing CPR as they burst through the door. Rodgers was on the chair his dressing gown wrapped tightly around him. He seemed to be rocking slightly in concert with his breathing.
The sound of another siren became audible. The paramedic looked at Skeeter. ‘Can you take over?’
Skeeter immediately knelt opposite and continued as the medic shot through the door and down the steps. The supplementary oxygen tube inserted into his broken mouth to ensure a clear airway allowed her to concentrate on the chest compressions. April touched Rodgers who still seemed dazed.
‘Let’s go into another room and you can tell me what happened.’
Rodgers stood and collected the book from the coffee table before moving through to the kitchen.
On their return, the Incident Room was alive. One of the liaison officers was holding Rodgers in an Interview Room. April held the book wrapped in a clear forensic bag along with the contents retrieved from Frank Lloyd’s pockets before he was placed in the ambulance. She had photographed the pages and transferred the images to the com
puter system.
‘We’ll hang onto these keys until we find Carlos,’ April instructed the detectives.
Mason and the team observed as she went through the images and played the audio recording of Rodgers’ account of the incident she had made on her phone.
‘Vendetta, revenge. What’s Frank Lloyd Millington’s condition?’
An officer at the other end of the room pulled a face before announcing he was critical. He had been placed in an induced coma and been ventilated. He had severe head trauma and the diagnosis was that he was unlikely to survive beyond the day.
‘So, where the bloody hell is Carlos?’ Mason muttered as if thinking out loud.
‘The only link we now have are these keys and his mother and her partner,’ April responded, pointing to the bag on the table.
‘And Gaskell, the father?’ Mason mumbled as the thought came to him. ‘Skeeter and Tony interrogate the father, April and Lucy, the mother, and Fred and Kasum, the partner. We need a location and we need it yesterday. Rodgers was convinced Carlos was still alive and somewhere within fifteen minutes of his apartment. He didn’t arrive by car unless he took a taxi. Get onto that! I want an answer within the half hour.’ He pointed to one of the officers. ‘We’ll calibrate travel on foot and by car for fifteen minutes from the flat. As soon as you have anything, call it in. Go! ’
Skeeter and Tony sat opposite Gaskell. They informed him that Frank Lloyd had been apprehended but could not speak owing to his condition. There was little sign of any distress. They explained their urgency in locating a kidnapped male.
Syn (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 2) Page 20