‘Yes,’ he interrupted. ‘Exactly. It shows the killer’s most likely residence is here!’
I stared again at the map, as if looking at it harder would somehow change it. When I looked back, he was watching me from across the desk. His eyes unreadable.
‘Is there anything you want to tell me?’ he asked, quietly.
‘Are you mad?’ I said. ‘Are you seriously implying that you think for one minute…?’
He shook his head.
‘No. Not at all.’ He sat back in his chair, studying me intently. ‘I know you’re not implicated, Jo. I got you off that hook already, remember? Plus, you have a solid alibi for Martha as we both know. But maybe there’s something else? Something you haven’t thought of?’
‘Like what for Christ’s sake?’
He shrugged, his eyes never leaving mine. His stare was making me feel uncomfortable and I was beginning to sense what his opposition must experience in court.
‘There’s a theory that perhaps Jack has an accomplice?’
He saw me bristle and held his hand up as I opened my mouth.
‘Maybe someone who’s unaware they’re helping him,’ he said, quickly. ‘Before you rip into me, just try to be rational for a minute and see how this might look to the police.’
‘I don’t give a shit how it looks!’ I knew I was raising my voice, but I didn’t care.
‘I was the one who suggested using spatial analysis in the first place. Why would I do that if I knew it would implicate me? And who would entertain a half-arsed theory that puts me in the frame anyway?’
Even as the words left my mouth, I knew the answer. I nearly knocked my chair over as I stood up and went to stare unseeingly at the view across the fields. ‘Oh, spare me! That bloody woman? And let me guess, she came up with that theory after Astley showed them his findings?’
‘Is there someone, Jo, anyone who’s been staying here with you? Your son maybe…?’
I rounded on him before he could even finish the sentence.
‘Alex? Thank God he’s still in India, or that stupid cow would no doubt frame him for it!’
Anger was coiling round my innards with reptilian fury that I couldn’t even begin to verbalise. For once in my life, I was almost speechless with rage.
‘This is… it’s… arrgh!’
The papers flew off my desk with a sweep of my arm. I was incensed.
‘Calm down!’ he shouted, startling me.
He was suddenly standing, facing me. His body language taut with anger. Unexpectedly, I saw fury momentarily flash through those blue eyes. But as fast as I saw it, it was gone as he regained his professional composure.
‘Maybe someone you haven’t thought of?’ he continued, as if my outburst had never happened.
His tone was calm again, changing so quickly it caught me off guard. Despite the anger I was feeling, I admired his professionalism. To be able to control his own emotions and remain so balanced was truly impressive. I was so busy marvelling at the volte-face, I had to force myself to concentrate on his question.
‘Travellers staying on the land somewhere? Holiday lets? Anything?’
I shook my head, sitting back at my desk. ‘No. Just me and George, and he lives alone.’
‘George?’
‘George Theakston. He’s my neighbour. A mile down the track.’ Then another thought occurred to me. ‘How do you know all this, anyway?’ I indicated the map now on the floor with the rest of my papers. ‘And how did you get hold of that?’
I watched his back as he bent down and picked the papers off the floor. He began to stack them into neat piles on my desk.
‘I have sources.’
‘Someone on the enquiry team?’ I asked, as my mind ran through the possibilities. None fitted.
‘No.’ He finally looked at me. ‘Someone I’ve known for years in the West Yorkshire force.’
There was that disarming smile again. It was as if my outburst and his angry response had never happened.
‘Fosters have contacts in all the major forces, Jo. That’s how it works. Why do you think we’re as successful as we are?’ He shrugged as he took his seat again and crossed his legs, flicking an imaginary speck of lint from his knee. ‘It’s a reciprocal arrangement. They help us from time to time and we return the favour every now and again – sharing information, or giving them a heads up when we get a sniff of something they might find useful.’
‘As long as it doesn’t give them an edge over you in court?’ I suggested, with more than a hint of sarcasm. I couldn’t quite relax back into our conversation somehow. Was it his inference about Alex that had raised my hackles, or something else?
‘Something like that.’ He smiled again and regarded me with more patience this time. ‘I’m sorry, Jo,’ he said, quietly, as if reading my thoughts. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you when I asked about Alex.’ His eyes glittered with unexpected amusement as he smiled. ‘You really must learn to control your emotions, you know? That temper of yours will get you into serious trouble one day.’
‘Believe me, it has,’ I reflected without amusement. ‘Saved my skin on more than one occasion too, so I’ll leave it as it is. If it’s all the same to you?’
He shrugged. ‘That’s the Irish gene I suppose.’ He smiled. ‘Goes with the package. Listen, Jo, I was only fishing when I asked about Alex. I suppose what I meant was, is there anyone not local to the area who comes to mind?’
‘Jen moved in with me a couple of days ago, but suspecting her is even more ridiculous.’ I shook my head. ‘I can’t imagine how the computer could throw this location up. Can you?’
He pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘No. But then I’m not a spatial analyst. I’m a lawyer and right now my only concern is protecting you from whatever fallout this causes.’
Something in his tone alerted me that there was more. ‘Such as?’
He shifted in his seat. ‘My source tells me that you should expect a visit.’ He nodded towards the map. ‘As a result of that, and Taylor-Caine’s assessment.’
I resisted the temptation to actually grind my teeth.
‘So she postulates that I might be implicated when she sees Astley’s analysis, and the enquiry team just accept it?’ I was incredulous. Especially as I knew Callum well enough to know that he would discount it.
‘Didn’t they speculate in 1888 that Victorian Jack might have been more than one offender?’
‘Yes. But he certainly isn’t now,’ I said, with a conviction I truly felt. ‘Our man kills alone. If he’s the kind of character I think he is, then he won’t trust anyone enough to involve them that closely. Like you said, they may even be unaware they’re assisting him. If he has help, it’s purely peripheral and probably unwitting on the part of the person he enlists.’
‘But you can see how they might think you’re implicated somehow?’ The simplicity with which he said it incensed me.
‘What would be my motive?’ I raised my voice again, despite his warning look to keep a hold on my ‘Irish’ temper.
He shrugged. ‘For what it’s worth, I don’t think Callum and the team believe it either.’ He flicked the map with his finger. ‘But they can’t ignore this, Jo. Now it’s come up, they have to action it.’
We both looked up as the office door was nudged open and Jen appeared.
‘Tea?’
‘Your timing is flawless,’ I said, showing her the map and bringing her up to speed.
‘Well, that accounts for your visitor then.’ I raised an enquiring eyebrow.
‘Callum’s car is pulling down the lane,’ she said, going down to the kitchen as we all heard the doorbell.
28 September
Kingsberry Farm
‘So that’s the long and short of it, Jo. I’m sorry.’
Callum looked tired and I could tell this was difficult for him.
‘Well, appreciate you coming. You could have just called.’
He ran a hand across the stubble on his chin.
&n
bsp; ‘I could have, but I knew how you’d feel about a search.’
He took a gulp of tea, which emptied the fine china teacup in one go. Jen had found it in the cupboard and regarded it as more ‘proper’ than my half-pint mugs. He put it back on the delicate saucer with a ‘clack’.
‘When should I expect them?’ I asked.
James turned from the window he’d been staring out of ever since Callum had arrived. Apart from exchanging nods, neither had spoken. It was evident that Callum had drawn his own conclusions as to why James was here first thing in the morning. He was obviously wrong about any relationship between us, but I didn’t have the energy to put him straight. It wasn’t lost on James either, but he was enjoying Callum’s discomfort far too much to disabuse him.
‘They’re here now,’ James said, pointedly. ‘Your guardian angel couldn’t give too much advanced notice, Jo, in case you disposed of the evidence.’ When he smiled at Callum, it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Isn’t that right, chief inspector?’
Callum stood up. ‘I’d like to think you practise being such a complete bastard, Turner,’ he said, as he went to the door. ‘But you really are a natural.’
James was unfazed.
‘Coming from you, Ferguson,’ he smiled, ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
James persuaded me to walk with him across the fields while the police searched the farm. I reluctantly left them to it, knowing Jen would keep an eye on things.
Harvey tagged along, much to James’s discomfort.
‘I’ve never been okay with dogs, and they seem to sense it,’ he said. ‘But then we never owned one when I was growing up. Maybe that’s why I’m no good around them.’
I made sure I walked between him and Harvey, who kept up a low, grumbling growl.
‘I think all kids should grow up around dogs. Teaches them a lot about responsibility, compassion, love.’
‘Love?’ He sounded bewildered. Or was his tone just curious? I couldn’t decide.
‘Only a dog gives you unconditional love and devotion,’ I said, absently rubbing Harvey’s silky ears as he walked beside me.
‘Keeping a dog wouldn’t have been practical for us.’ He held a farm gate open for me. ‘My brother and I were sent to boarding school and my parents were abroad a lot.’
I watched him close the gate, stepping carefully round a cowpat in his immaculately shiny shoes.
‘You’re not really dressed for this, are you?’ I laughed. ‘You’re messing up your suit.’
‘You’re worth the cleaning bill.’
He grinned, turning the full force of his handsome sexuality in my direction. He could charm anyone he wanted, I reflected. No doubt a vital ingredient for success in his chosen profession. Equal measures of charm and intellectual aggression, served up with precise logic and razor-sharp wit.
‘So you have a brother? I can’t imagine another one like you.’
‘Oh, believe me,’ he said, seriously, ‘my brother is nothing like me.’
‘Is he a lawyer?’
He shook his head. ‘Head of thoracic surgery at a teaching hospital in London.’
‘Done well for himself then.’
‘Well, he’s fifteen years older than me, so he had a bit of a head start,’ he laughed.
‘What about your parents?’
He frowned. ‘Feel like I’m on the therapy couch. Telling you all about my childhood. Isn’t that what you shrinks believe is the root of all screw ups?’
I laughed. ‘It usually is.’
I threw a stick for Harvey to distract him from James.
‘My mother died when I was young. Originally she studied Russian literature at Cambridge and then made a career out of being married to my father. He was a QC at a chambers in London at the time.’
‘Russian literature? Exotic choice.’
‘Not really,’ he laughed. ‘Considering her family were Russian. She lived in Saint Petersburg until she was twelve-years-old. Then the family came to England. She spoke fluent Russian, so Russian literature wasn’t too much of a stretch. My grandmother was a big influence in her childhood. She kept the Russian traditions and language alive – believed it was important for my mother to know where she came from, what her history was. Suppose that’s where the interest started.’
‘So, a choice between medicine and law then?’
‘Something like that,’ he said. ‘I considered medicine for a while. My brother arranged for me to spend one summer at the hospital, getting some work experience.’ We stopped and leaned against a drystone wall, watching Harvey run around the meadow. ‘It could have gone either way, but after my mother died, it was just me and my father. So I suppose his influence won out.’
‘And the rest, as they say, is history?’ I leaned back on the wall to look at him.
He shrugged. ‘I’ve done okay, I suppose. Made partner at Fosters by thirty-five. Youngest they’d ever had. Made my father proud at least.’
That last sentence chimed in my head, like the toll of a distant bell. A muffled sound echoing all the way back to his childhood.
I watched his profile. He’d gone suddenly still, as if he sensed the laser focus of my damage-detectors homing in on him.
He was staring straight ahead. Waiting to see whether I would pursue the thing he’d inadvertently revealed. The pain from his childhood that the therapist in me had zeroed in on. Like a sniper spotting a half-hidden child in the thick undergrowth of adult camouflage.
Usually I couldn’t resist picking up pain that people dropped at my feet. Almost daring me to open that Pandora’s box of childhood hurt and suffering they thought they’d become so adept at hiding, but which they allowed to peek out occasionally – to those they privately hoped could exorcise it for them.
I debated for a second whether to go for it. Then I let the laser dot of my aim slide past him, letting him know that today wasn’t the day I’d take that shot.
He relaxed beside me as I pretended instead to concentrate on Harvey. I wasn’t looking at James but I felt the tension leave his body. And we both knew he would never allow his vulnerability to become a visible target again.
I picked up instead on the humble tone he’d used when speaking about his achievement at making partner at Fosters. It lacked sincerity, and he knew it.
‘Oh, admit it.’ My tone was deliberately teasing. ‘You love the reputation you’ve got. Hard-assed defence lawyer? First port of call for the rich, famous and corrupt.’
‘Err, not to mention celebrity forensic psychologists in the middle of the biggest serial murder case since Jack the Ripper!’
He tugged my arm playfully, pulling me a little closer so that I could smell his cologne. His smile was teasing, but his eyes were looking deep into mine with a sudden intensity that seemed to still the air around us. His fingers felt warm on my wrist, pressing just enough to hold me close. I felt his breath warm against my face as his head dipped towards mine. Intuitively, I turned my face at the last moment and his lips brushed my cheek.
He looked bemused.
‘What’s wrong?’
I hesitated, watching his eyes. Genuinely not knowing how to vocalise an ephemeral reaction to him that had taken me as much by surprise as it obviously had him.
‘I don’t know,’ I said, smiling slightly to take the sting out of the rejection. ‘Bad timing maybe.’
I went to pull my hand away, but he held on to my wrist. I could feel my pulse fluttering beneath his thumb. His eyes were still holding mine with a depth that was almost mesmerising.
I smiled again, gently pulling away from his touch. ‘A complication I don’t need right now. Nothing personal.’
He let my hand go and we both looked up as the clatter of the police helicopter shattered the rural peace.
‘No expense spared,’ James muttered.
‘Standard procedure I suppose.’
‘Don’t keep holding on to him, Jo,’ he said, quietly, still watching the helicopter.
‘He
doesn’t value you.’
‘Who?’ We both knew, but I asked anyway.
‘Callum.’
‘And how would you know that?’ I asked, studying his profile. Looking for tell-tale signs of jealousy. Manipulation? He wasn’t giving anything away. The muscles bunched in his jaw, as if trying to hold on to something he didn’t want to tell me.
‘Like I said.’ He turned to me with a half-smile. ‘I have sources.’
I felt a coldness spreading through my stomach.
‘And what do your sources tell you?’ I asked, quietly, almost holding my breath.
He shrugged again as he regarded me for a moment, as if debating whether to tell me more. His smile was almost regretful.
‘He uses you, Jo. And when it’s expedient, he’ll throw you to the wolves just like he did after the Woodhouse business.’ He put his hands on my shoulders, turning me to face him. Looking down at me like a parent breaking bad news to a child. ‘You know I’m right. You’ve felt it, but you don’t want to admit it to yourself.’
I thought he was going to say more, but then he seemed to catch himself and stopped. Looking beyond me to a point in the distance. His hands dropped and he turned to lean back on the wall.
‘Anyway, you’re a big girl and I’m sure you know what you’re doing.’ He turned his head to look down at me. ‘I’m driving back to London tonight to prep for a major case, so I’ll have to leave you with it I’m afraid.’
‘Will you be coming back?’
I was puzzled at the unaccountable sense of relief I felt. Was it because it removed a potential complication, or because I was struggling to read James – a feeling I wasn’t used to?
He shrugged. ‘Being up here was only ever supposed to be temporary while I supervised setting up the new office.’ He smiled. ‘But then I picked up Jen’s call and got, err… distracted. Maybe if I thought I had a reason to come back…’
That was my prompt, but I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t launch me back into that complication I’d just avoided. And I wasn’t about to be drawn into reciprocating just to spare his feelings.
The Murder Mile Page 20