Before I Wake

by Clare Revell

“I did. Nathaniel here invited me to a service at his church. Even though I’d never met the bloke who was preaching, it was as if he knew me, knew everything I’d ever done. Every single word hit home with the force of a sledgehammer. God changed me that night.”

  Zander raised his eyebrows.

  “Zander,” DI Holmes voice took on a warning tone.

  “I’m saying nothing, just wondering if it was Pastor Jack or Pastor Carson.”

  “Pastor Jack. Now, if you don’t mind giving me an update on your case?” CS Clydesdale watched him.

  “Of course, sir. Let me just check on Is and make sure she’s all right.” He tugged out his phone.

  Hey bae. Where are you?

  You do realise that bae is actually Danish for poo don't you?

  Where are you?

  Up on the roof.

  She’d added a few music emoticons. Zander groaned. At least the woman hadn’t lost her awful sense of humour.

  Thanks for the ear worm. Are you coming back?

  Yes. Give me three minutes. And you're very welcome.

  Zander shook his head and put the phone away. “She’s fine. She’ll be a couple of minutes. Actually, Is discovered something in the photos and paintings we’re following up on.” He began explaining and had just finished when Isabel came into the room. He winked. “That was more than three minutes.”

  She scrunched her nose at him. “I had a phone call halfway down the stairs. Police Scotland are stuck in traffic on the M6, so their revised ETA is around eight tonight. They’ll let us know if it changes.”

  “What time are we meeting your landlord?”

  She shrugged. “I have to be out by four. He’ll give me an hour to pack and get out of there once I arrive, so I ought to be there at three. Good job it’s only a small flat.”

  DI Holmes glanced at her. “And we’ll all help.”

  “Why?” CS Clydesdale asked.

  “It looks as though the killer knows where I live,” Isabel said. “And as I’m on the list, I’m giving up my flat and moving into a safehouse on the Guv’s orders.”

  DI Holmes eyebrows shot upwards. “Really? That’s not what you said yesterday when I told you.”

  Isabel tried not to grin and failed. “Orders I follow without question. Suggestions, not so much.”

  “So, if the Guv suggests it’s lunchtime or time to head home?” Zander winked.

  “We don’t go,” Isabel deadpanned. “However, if he goes, ‘Get outta my squad room’, then we run like mad and don’t look back.”

  DI Holmes shook his head. “You two are incorrigible. Can we please carry on with the briefing?”

  Zander tilted his head. “Is that a suggestion or an…?” He let the sentence hang for five seconds, trying not to break into a full-blown laugh as DI Holmes lips twitched whilst his expression darkened. “Yes Sir, we can carry on. All the dead women are attending week two of the New Wine Convention this year. They all attend church regularly, but not the same one. They all wear necklaces they never take off. None have been recovered at the scene or turned up since, so we’re assuming that’s the killer’s trophy.”

  ~*~

  Isabel tuned Zander out. Grabbing the pink note pad from her desk, she tucked it under her arm, and walked over to the incident boards. She picked up a marker and drew another column. She flicked through the pink paper and added the church the victims attended to the board. Three went to Moor Street Baptist, two to Headley Baptist, and one to St. Crispin’s.

  What if they had all gone to the same church at some point? After all, she’d tried out several before finding one she wished to settle at. Fingers tapped on the incident board as her mind whirled. Maybe the killer saw them at a specific church…

  “Penny for them.” Zander’s voice jarred her.

  “Just thinking. I need to check something out. Give me a few.” She headed back to her desk and picked up her phone. Several minutes later, she set the receiver back on the base.

  “Well?” Zander asked.

  Isabel glanced up to find Zander, DI Holmes, and CS Clydesdale standing on the other side of her desk. “All the girls attended St. Crispin’s at some point. Either they left because they were unhappy, or it didn’t suit them, or because some aspect of their behaviour went against church code.”

  CS Clydesdale frowned. “What about this man you have in custody—Barney Terrance?”

  “We need to talk to him again. Right now, he’s on an extended hold for violent assault. But we do have to charge him or let him go in the next eighteen hours.”

  DI Holmes studied Isabel. “Call Rev. Eke and invite him in for a chat. If he knew all the girls, maybe he can help us in some way.”

  “Yes, Guv.” Isabel reached for the phone just as it rang. She grabbed it. “DC York.”

  “Hi, this is Rory O’Leary from Priory Vets. You asked me to do the postmortem on your cat.”

  She gulped. “Yes.”

  “There’s something in the blood work I don’t understand. A toxin we can’t identify.”

  Isabel swallowed hard. Poison hemlock. It had to be. Yet she couldn’t voice it. She had to send those samples over to Arend and have him run the tests on them. “I’ll need those samples and reports, if that’s all right. I’ll come over and collect them myself. See you in ten.”

  She hung up. Shoving down the urge to scream or cry, or both, she grabbed her bag, then shoved her chair backwards. Getting to her feet, she looked at DI Holmes. “I have to go out.”

  “Where?” he asked.

  “The vets. It’s urgent. Zander, can you take me?”

  “We’re mid briefing,” Zander began, not appearing at all as though he minded.

  “And I wouldn’t leave if this weren’t important or relevant.”

  DI Holmes glanced around. “Frank, you go.”

  Frank rose. “Sure. Go where?”

  Isabel dropped her bag onto her desk, shoving down the desire to argue. “You need to go to Priory Vets and see Rory O’Leary. Pick up the samples and report from him and then hand deliver it to Arend Van Houten.”

  Zander frowned. “Is?”

  “There was something in the tox screen the vet couldn’t identify. Mr. T was murdered with poison hemlock. I’m sure of it. The same as Gran, and all our murder victims. I want Arend to check the results and samples against ours.”

  DI Holmes frowned. “We need you and your stuff out of that flat of yours now. Frank, run that errand and then meet us at Isabel’s house. 124 Greys Avenue. Isabel, how much stuff do you have? Will we need a van or will several cars work?”

  “I have a fair bit, but no furniture apart from my stereo and one CD tower.”

  “OK. We’ll store your things in my garage until you find somewhere more permanent. Apart from what you actually need.”

  CS Clydesdale jerked his head. “Then I’ll let you get on with moving Isabel. I assume she’s going into a safehouse?”

  Isabel rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah. A really, very, incredibly safehouse which only the DI knows about, and he’s even assigned me a police escort to and from work.”

  “Good. Nathaniel, can I have a quick word before you leave.” The Chief Super turned to Isabel and held out a card. “Should you want to talk further or need anything, let me know. My personal number is on there, along with all my work numbers.”

  She took the card. “Thank you, sir.”

  He held her gaze for a long moment. “I hope, one day, you’ll call me something other than sir.”

  She must have looked as uncomfortable as she felt, because DI Holmes cleared his throat, breaking the moment.

  “OK, you lot. Get over to Isabel’s and help her pack. I’ll join you in a bit. Go.”

  ~*~

  Zander tried to talk to Isabel several times about the Chief Super, but she changed the subject each and every time. Hopefully she’d talk at some point. Because having something like that dropped on one must shake everything one knew to the core. And then some. He studied the six boxes
in DI Holmes’ garage and lifted a brow. “Not much really?”

  Isabel shook her head. “Two cases in your car still, but I need those.”

  He nodded. “Why didn’t you want the Chief Super to know where you’re living?”

  She glanced around at the others. “Same reason no one does. Don’t trust anyone—especially him. Besides, the more people who know, the less safe I am.”

  Zander grinned. “Once this is over, I’ll help you find somewhere new.”

  “Thank you. No idea where to look.”

  DI Holmes shut and locked the garage. He glanced at his watch. “It’s home time.”

  “You don’t want us to go back to work, Guv?” Austin asked.

  DI Holmes shook his head. “It’s five to five. Not worth it. Just come in tomorrow ready to graft.” His phone rang and he looked at it. “Go on. Go.” He turned his back on them to answer the phone. “Hi, love.”

  Isabel eased her hands on her back. “Can we stop for take away on the way home, Zander? I’m Hank Marvin.”

  Zander laughed. “I might just start calling you that.”

  Austin looked confused. “What’s Hank Marvin? Aside from one of the best guitarists ever.”

  “Rhyming slang for starvin’,” Isabel told him.

  “We’ll swing past the chippy on the way home,” Zander said. “Anyone else? We could make a party of it.”

  Austin grinned. “Sounds like a plan. How about Mr. Cod? We could eat in.”

  “Nice and easy, and not far from here.” Zander unlocked his car. “Come on, Is.”

  Twenty minutes later, the entire squad minus the Guv, sat squashed around the one table in the chip shop, eating chips with wooden forks.

  “It always tastes better from the paper for some reason,” Isabel gazed at Zander.

  He grinned. “You say that every single time.”

  “Kind of have to.” She slanted her head, lips twitching. “It’d be rude not to. It’s a rule.”

  “Like the germ one? How they can’t attack food on the floor for five seconds.”

  “Yup. Only that doesn’t work if you have a two second dog.” She stabbed a chip and dunked it into the puddle of ketchup. “Have you rung the hospital to see how your grandfather is?”

  “No. Figured we’d swing past and visit in a bit.”

  She nodded. “That works. Do it on the way home.”

  Austin shook more malt vinegar over his meal. “I don’t think anyone knows where you live now. Apart from the DI and your police driver.”

  She smirked, looking horrendously cute and nothing like a police officer. She inclined her head towards Zander. “My police driver, bodyguard, slave, and partner.”

  Zander returned Austin’s stare. “But my lips are sealed. So, don’t even bother asking. If I breathe a word the Guv will have my guts for garters.”

  ~*~

  Next morning, while Zander headed up to the squad room, Isabel diverted via the tech lab. She’d given the reason as making sure the cameras the Guv had installed were still working. Having done that, she picked up three more SD cards from Fred for the zebra cam. All she needed to do now was surreptitiously change the card and watch it at some point.

  As she reached the squad room, the DI’s office door opened. He stuck his head out and looked for her. “Isabel, can you send me the New Wine list again? It seems to have vanished from my computer.”

  “Sure. Did you want the paper copy for now? It’s on my desk.” She moved the pink paper and frowned. “Zander, did you move it?”

  “Nope.” He tugged open his desk drawer. Then he scowled and tossed the contents of the drawer onto his desk. “It’s not here.”

  Isabel checked her computer. “Not here either. Zander, check yours?”

  Zander paused in rearranging his drawer and typed fast. “Nor here.”

  DI Holmes ran a hand over his head. “That’s not a coincidence.”

  “I sent it to my personal email,” Isabel said. “Let me just check that.”

  “Why?” DI Holmes scowl deepened. “It’s against regs.”

  “I know, and it was just in case. Honestly? I saw a film where that was the only way to keep information secure. And my email already got hacked once. I changed email servers and all my passwords after that.”

  DI Holmes caught her arm just as she was about to log in. “Don’t do it from here. Do you have a laptop at home?”

  She nodded.

  “Then I’ll give you my personal email, and you can send it to that. I’ll print it off at home. You and Zander can go and do that now.”

  Zander looked up. “Give me some of the paper and I can get it printed so we have one copy here.”

  A uniformed officer crossed the room. “Post for DC York.”

  Isabel tugged a pair of gloves from the desk and struggled into them. “Thank you.”

  Zander cleared a space on her desk. “Guess we’re not going anywhere just yet.”

  Isabel opened the white envelope. She rolled her eyes. “Driving licence and eee-yuk. I look like a convict in that one.”

  Zander snorted. “Everyone always does. You should see mine.”

  Isabel slid the offending card into her shirt pocket. She studied the brown A5 envelope. “Croydon postmark. Printed label. Did we ever get DNA back on those other envelopes?”

  DI Holmes raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “In case he’s licking them to seal them. It should be back by now.”

  “OK. I’ll check.”

  Isabel opened the envelope and pulled out the postcard. “It’s a dumpster. Seriously?” She turned the card over to show them. “It’s the seventh commandment on the back.”

  I AM THE LORD YOUR GOD. YOU SHALL NOT COMMIT ADULTERY. 5-18

  10

  Zander moved closer to his partner. They didn’t need this. Not today, not when she still hadn’t processed yesterday’s bombshell regarding her parentage. He put two evidence bags on her desk. “When was it posted?”

  Isabel glanced at the envelope. “Postmark says Monday.” She slid the postcard into a bag and handed it to DI Holmes.

  “Can’t be Barney Terrance then,” Austin sighed. “And I was so hoping it was. He’s been in custody downstairs since Saturday night.”

  “There’s no post on Sundays,” Zander told him. “That’s partly why I like them so much. And the box by me gets collected at nine in the morning. So, post something at nine-thirty on a Friday and it won’t go until 9:00AM on Saturday and delivered Monday if you’re fortunate.”

  “So, we speak to Barney Terrance again,” DI Holmes said. “Charge him with the assault on Susan Higgins, if nothing else.”

  “And if she still won’t press charges?” Isabel asked.

  “Let him go and we refer the case to the CPS anyway. They can charge him regardless. I want a tail on him once he is released.”

  Zander rubbed the back of his neck. “He could still be the Slayer. Post the card Saturday morning and kidnap the girl before we arrest him.”

  “And keep her where?” Isabel asked.

  “Need to search his house before we talk to him again.”

  “I’ll get a search warrant.” DI Holmes turned to Steve and Harry. “Take a copy of this photo and see if you can find the dumpster.”

  Harry groaned. “Why do we always get the rubbish jobs?”

  DI Holmes shook his head and shot them a withering glance.

  Zander chuckled. “It could be worse. It could be a muck heap or compost bin.”

  Isabel turned her attention to the brochure. “OK. Painting seven is Outcast. It depicts a woman being thrown out of her house for cheating on her husband—literally thrown that is.”

  “Isabel, you and I are going to talk to Barney Terrance...” DI Holmes tugged his phone out as it rang. “Holmes…OK. Thank you.” He ended the call. “George Harmon just arrived. Zander, go book him in, and then talk to him.” His phone rang again. “Holmes…hi, Dane.” He listened. “Congratulations, mate. That’s wonderfu
l news. You picked a name yet?”

  All gazes turned to the DI, yet no one interrupted. He turned to them. “It’s a boy. John Michael, born 4:55 this morning. Nine pounds, fifteen ounces.”

  Cheers filled the room.

  Zander thought fast. “Guv, let Isabel and I go down to the custody suite and talk to both men.”

  DI Holmes nodded, distracted by the phone. “Is Amy all right?” His smile turned into a worried frown. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  Zander scooped the files from his desk. “Is, let’s go before he realises what he agreed to. Book George Harmon in, then talk to Barney Terrance.” He headed down to the cells, Isabel beside him.

  They arrived to find Barney Terrance collecting his things.

  “Where are you going?” Zander asked.

  “Home. I’ve been released. See ya.” The man gave a cheeky wave and headed outside.

  Zander turned to the custody sergeant. “On whose authority?”

  “The Chief Super’s. Mr. Terrance is on police bail. The PIN has been issued. He said there was no need to hold him further. Are you here for him or that bloke, then?”

  Zander glanced over his shoulder to see George Harmon handcuffed to an officer. “Both but guess it’s just him now.”

  “I better go give the Guv the bad news,” Isabel said. “Probably best I’m not here for his handover.”

  “We’ll see you up there,” Zander told her. He crossed over to the Scottish officers. “DS Ellery. Mr. Harmon, it’s so nice to see you again. Or are you Patrick Villiers again today?”

  “I can explain that—” he began.

  “Save it,” Zander interrupted. “You’ll be given ample opportunity to make up as many names and stories as you like. Fact is, I won’t believe any of them. Innocent men don’t run or give false names. We’ll book you in and my partner and I will then have a chat over morning coffee with these fine officers. We’ll talk to you later today. You know the drill, to the desk please.”

  Five minutes later, with the prisoner safe in a cell, Zander gave the custody officer the stink eye. “He goes nowhere, no matter who says anything. The woman we think he killed was the grandmother of a police officer.” He turned to the Scottish officers. “We’ll do the handover upstairs over coffee.”