A Cut for a Cut (Detective Kate Young)

by Carol Wyer

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Kate yelled into her radio. ‘Suspect on the move, headed along Hockley Road towards the centre of town. I’m in pursuit.’

  Jamie responded, ‘I’m in position at suspect’s house.’

  ‘Maintain your position.’

  Emma was next to answer. ‘Currently en route to Stafford. Returning to Uttoxeter immediately. ETA ten minutes.’

  Kate pressed on. She’d chosen to follow without the siren. Alone, she could not head Ryan off if he chose one of the numerous routes leading out of Uttoxeter. Much hinged on how quickly she could reach the junction at the end of the road, where he could turn either left or right.

  Emma’s voice filled the car. ‘Backup requested and on its way.’

  Fortune was on Kate’s side. Temporary traffic lights had held up the motorbike, which was in front of a van. She used the wider vehicle to conceal her presence and waited for the lights to change, then watched as the bike sped away. ‘Suspect turning onto Market Place.’

  She maintained a steady distance behind the van, one eye on Ryan, who was adhering to the speed limit and apparently unaware he was being tailed. As soon as he followed the bypass to the racecourse roundabout, she had a hunch where he was headed. ‘Suspect appears to be headed towards Wood Lane. I think he might be going home.’

  ‘Still in position, guv.’

  ‘Stay out of sight.’

  The van took a different exit at the roundabout, affording her a clear vision of Ryan. She didn’t have long to formulate a plan. ‘Remain hidden until he pulls up on the drive. Then block the driveway with your vehicle. I’ll be right behind him.’

  It was a difficult balance trying to stay back far enough so as not to draw suspicion to herself and ensuring she was close enough to help capture him. Why was he going home? He’d surely guess Kate would send officers to his house. Maybe he thought there was sufficient time to grab possessions, passport and money, or maybe he wanted to hide the evidence that would point to his guilt. Either way, it was a big mistake on his part.

  The bike accelerated away and she lost sight as it rounded a bend. Had he spotted her? She held her nerve and willed him to stop at his house. She was rewarded when she came out of the bend to see an unmarked police car coming to a rapid halt on the driveway. She floored the pedal and screeched to a halt, bumper to bumper with the other car, and sprang out. Jamie and a fellow officer were already racing towards Ryan, who was undoing his helmet. The uniformed officer raced up the driveway. Ryan was quicker. He leapt from the bike and took off like a rocket, darting to the side of the house and scrambling over the locked gate. The officer hauled his bulkier frame to the top of the gate and then yelled as he was struck by something and fell backwards onto the ground. Blood spurted from his nose as he wriggled and swore. Jamie ignored the man’s distress, leapt at the gate and catapulted himself over it as deftly as an accomplished gymnast. Kate, less flexible, followed suit. Catching Ryan was their priority. The officer would recover.

  A discarded helmet, no doubt the weapon used to floor the officer, lay in the damp grass. Her feet slipped as she pounded behind Jamie, slowing progress, but allowing her time to weigh up the situation and scout for possible escape routes. The hedges were too tall to vault and too thick to squeeze through. Even as she thought it, she knew Ryan had a plan. He was heading towards a point in the hedge with purpose, but it was only when he dived onto the ground by a lichen-covered plastic seat, and wriggled forwards, did she spot the gap under the leylandii. The soles of his boots vanished before Jamie could grip them. He emulated the movements and by the time he was through, Kate was also on the ground, elbowing her way through the gap.

  She emerged into a field of allotments, tended patches of autumn-ripening bounty: pale-orange butternut squashes, green-leaved kale and fat marrows. The light was fading but she caught sight of Ryan speeding willy-nilly through crops, knocking over canes of late-producing tomatoes, beans and raspberries, trampling across lettuces and kicking over protective coverings. He darted from one area to the other, searching for a path out. Jamie’s arms and legs were pumping furiously. He shouted for Ryan to stop several times. Kate tried to gauge the best direction to take to head off the suspect, and with silent apologies to the allotment owners, raced over sticky earth and onion crops, and bashed fruit with her elbows as she surged forward. She was a runner, used to marathons rather than sprints. The men ahead were flagging, whereas she was still in the zone.

  A streetlight spluttered into life, silver light falling across a hedgerow, wooden gate and narrow pathway, and she made for it. Ryan must have spied it at the same time for he was now running in the same direction. Jamie had fallen back and was several metres behind their quarry. Kate jumped over beds of marrows, fern-like carrot tops and small lettuces, ran and leapt again. Ryan slipped on some plastic sheeting, his arms propelling until he regained his balance and sped off again, this time less quickly. Kate and Ryan were converging, both aiming for the exit point. Kate’s legs felt heavy yet she dug deep, treated this like the final sprint in a race, lowered her head and charged at him. She hadn’t anticipated how solid he would be. The sickening impact caused them both to stagger and fall. Her already injured shoulder screamed in pain and stars detonated in front of her eyes. The scene became a blur and before she could recover, Ryan was back on his feet. She rolled onto her side, reached out fingers in a weak attempt to grab his ankles. She was too slow. Ryan was off again. Pain paralysed her momentarily, then she heard a mighty roar and felt air whoosh over her. The thud as the bodies hit the earth reverberated through her bones. She staggered to her feet. Jamie was on Ryan’s back, blinking at sweat trickling into his eyes and breathing heavily.

  ‘You have the right to remain silent,’ he gasped.

  Kate bent over, shut her eyes and listened to Jamie caution the man. This was a result, not only for the families of the murdered victims and for Olivia, but for Bianca and Tilly. They had him at last.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Morgan and Emma were in the small, windowless room with Ryan. Both Kate and William sat in the adjacent room, watching the interview unfold on the monitor. The strong painkillers prescribed by the hospital doctor had numbed the shoulder pain but made her too woozy to conduct the interview herself. In spite of the discomfort and light-headedness, she considered herself lucky she’d only sustained severe bruising and ripped ligaments.

  Ryan’s lawyer, a bald man in his late forties, remained silent as Morgan continued his questioning. The screwdriver used to cut the word MINE into the women’s flesh had been uncovered, along with minute traces of blood, undoubtedly belonging to one or more of the victims. Ryan had been charged for the murders of Laura Dean and Heather Gault, the rape of Olivia Sandman and Bianca Moore, and the attack on Daisy Weatherford. The question was, how many more women from the collage of potential victims, posted on his bedroom wall, had he attacked? It would take time to find and talk to them all; however, another team had been tasked with that. Kate was certain more victims would come forward and Ryan would face additional charges. A forensic team had already begun searching through his house and as well as the evidence on his bedroom wall, his laptop had revealed searches to some very disturbing websites to do with rape. They’d also uncovered Heather’s handbag. Ryan had admitted to destroying and disposing of its contents, along with Laura’s personal possessions in a nearby recycling centre.

  He hung his head, his spirit crushed.

  ‘Tell me about the tattoo on your hand,’ said Morgan. ‘The black, bleeding heart. Is it to remind you of your victims?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Don’t you want to tell me about it?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘I’d have thought a bloke like you would want more macho tats.’ Morgan gave a slight sneer, part of the act to rile Ryan.

  ‘Fuck off.’

  ‘I suggest you watch your mouth.’

  ‘I suggest you stop asking stupid questions. It’s
a fucking heart, all right? It means something to me. I don’t give a shit what you think about it.’

  Too late, his lawyer issued a warning. Morgan was using the man’s temper to his advantage.

  ‘Sensitive, are we? You a bit concerned about your macho image?’

  Ryan leant forward. ‘I don’t have any trouble with my image.’

  ‘That surprises me; after all, you’re nothing but a sicko who knocks out defenceless young women to have sex with them. I bet you’ve never had a normal relationship with a willing partner. Can’t you get it up unless they’re unconscious?’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  ‘Turns you on, does it, to have them submissive? You know what I think. I think you’re actually scared of women. You’re frightened they’ll tell you to take a running jump if you try anything on with them. They’d make you feel this big?’ said Morgan, holding his finger and thumb apart an inch.

  Hostility blazed in Ryan’s eyes.

  ‘I guess a bloke like you can’t get a girlfriend . . . or a boyfriend.’

  Ryan jumped up with a snarl, grabbed Morgan’s shirt and gripped it tightly with both fists. Morgan smiled. Ryan released him instantly and sank to his chair. His anger fizzled out as quickly as it had flared. ‘It’s a reminder.’

  Emma cleared her throat. ‘I think it’s sort of romantic. Is it?’

  The bad cop, good cop approach worked. ‘It reminds me of someone.’

  Kate’s heart began to thud so loudly she was sure William would hear it. This line of questioning could result in her dismissal. If Ryan mentioned Tilly, she’d be hauled in front of her superiors with no comeback.

  ‘A girl I once had strong feelings for,’ he said.

  ‘What was her name?’

  ‘It’s unimportant. It happened a very long time ago. She’s married now. Even got a kid. She doesn’t feel the same way about me.’

  Kate held her breath, willing Ryan to shut up and for Emma to stop pursuing this line of questioning. Her prayers were answered. Morgan took over as lead, elbows now resting on the table.

  ‘There were a lot of photographs on your bedroom wall. Have you attacked any of those women?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘If you confess now, it will be better for you.’

  ‘Better how?’

  His lawyer stepped in. ‘I think we can agree my client is not going to be pressured or cajoled into confessing to any additional attacks.’ He closed his notebook and looked pointedly at Morgan.

  Emma, meanwhile, kept her eyes trained on Ryan. ‘Okay, Ryan, let’s get down to real business. Why the sudden spate in attacks? You attacked four women in a week.’

  ‘I don’t know what happened. It wasn’t part of the plan.’

  Thunder rumbles in the distance and a lightning flash casts a brilliance over the car park. He spots her descending the path from the village hall, takes in her pale face, the sexy mouth, the shining hair. It is Tilly. The desire to punish her inflames him and he makes his move, slips out of the darkness and knocks her out cold with one swift, practised movement. She weighs next to nothing and he carries her body away from the road and car park, onto a grassy bank. As soon as he forces himself on her, she comes to and struggles hard, fighting to escape, but she is no match for him and he pushes her face into the grass, and keeps his full weight on her, spitting cruel words at her, calling her every name he can think of as he thrusts harder into her.

  When he is spent, he rests his forearm on her neck and warns her to remain still if she values her life. He takes out the thinnest of his electrician’s screwdrivers from a jacket pocket and carves into the bitch – MINE. Like the scratches Tilly left on him years ago, now hidden under a black, bleeding heart, he’s branded her for life. He pants with exertion and the woman on the floor sobs quietly. Rage rises once more and he rains blows on her already bruised body. He then hauls her to her feet, slides his hands around her throat and squeezes. This is the final part of the act before he will release her with these new, life-changing memories that can never fade. He relaxes his grasp and stares at her, expecting resignation, but realises something has changed. She’s no longer afraid of him. Her features have altered into defiance and hatred sparks in her dark eyes – Tilly’s eyes. Tilly sneers at him before hawking phlegm directly into his eye. How dare she! His hand tightens its grip again and he squeezes tighter. ‘Apologise, bitch!’ There is no apology or remorse. Her eyes grow dull and her head lolls to one side. He releases her, at the same time coming back to his senses. This isn’t Tilly, only one of the many women he’s chosen as her substitute.

  He traces the heart tattoo inked in memory of the one woman he can never forget and acknowledges that Laura Dean is now dead because of his rekindled obsession with Tilly and the fact he is once again in contact with her. Thanks to Ashar’s revelation that Tilly had friended him on Facebook and was back in Staffordshire, he’d found her and sent her a friend request, which she’d accepted. They’ve already exchanged messages, vague, catch-up chats, and it has taken every ounce of control to keep them light-hearted. He has to see her soon. This woman lying on the ground is a lousy replacement. He lifts her lifeless body and carries it to the industrial waste bins. He wants the real thing. And now that Tilly is in the area once more, he will get what he truly desires – his first true love under his control.

  ‘There must be some reason you attacked one woman after the other,’ said Emma.

  He hung his head. Naturally, there was a reason, one he was unwilling to share with these people. They would never comprehend the effect she’d had on him. ‘There was no reason,’ Ryan said eventually. ‘I just had to do it. Something made me and I couldn’t stop.’

  Kate knew he was lying either to them or to himself. Cluster attacks like these were often caused by a trigger, in this case, Tilly’s return to the UK. She’d unwittingly set off a deep-seated desire to attack again – this time more urgently and frequently than before.

  Ryan leant forward and spoke earnestly to Emma. ‘Believe me, I never intended on killing any of them. Laura’s death was an accident.’

  ‘And what about Heather? Was that another accident?’

  ‘I didn’t kill her.’

  ‘There are marks on her throat and damage to her neck structures to suggest otherwise,’ said Emma.

  He shook his head. ‘No, you don’t understand. I admit I grabbed Heather around her throat, but not hard enough to choke her to death. I swear she was alive.’ He looked at his lawyer, who opened his pad again and made a note.

  Morgan wasn’t going easy on him. ‘If you didn’t intend on strangling them, why did you wrap your hands around their throats?’

  ‘It was part of the game.’

  ‘Wow! You play some seriously warped games,’ Morgan replied.

  ‘After this game, you checked to see if she was still breathing then, did you?’ asked Emma.

  ‘Yes, and she was.’

  ‘And then you carried her up the road and abandoned her in a skip in the car park?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why the skip?’

  He shrugged a reply. ‘I noticed it in the car park and decided to leave her there.’

  Emma gave him a cold stare. ‘Like she was discarded rubbish?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

  Kate doubted he was telling the truth. It was no coincidence he’d chosen similar places to dump his victims.

  ‘After you flung her into the skip, did you check again to see if Heather was still alive?’

  Ryan stared at Emma, mouth moving but no words forthcoming.

  ‘Did you check her pulse again?’ she repeated.

  He turned to his lawyer. ‘She was alive. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘You left a woman with facial injuries, who you’d beaten, raped, mutilated and half-strangled, in a skip without checking to see if she was still breathing at that point,’ said Emma.

  The lawyer gave a small shake of his head. ‘My client wishes to make no comment.’<
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  ‘Tell us why you attacked these women, Ryan.’

  Ryan wiped a hand over his face. ‘I had to.’

  ‘Had to?’

  ‘It’s an urge. A sort of sickness. I can’t control it.’

  Morgan’s voice was thick with disgust. ‘You can’t blame this on an imaginary sickness. That’s a cop-out. You enjoyed torturing them. You didn’t want to stop.’

  A knotted vein pulsed in Ryan’s neck. He thumped the desk. ‘You don’t know what goes on in my head. You have no idea how much I tried to fight this.’

  Emma butted in. ‘Do you like women, Ryan?’

  A sneer tugged at his lips. ‘No. You’re all bitches.’

  His lawyer intervened. ‘I think we’re done here for the time being. I’d appreciate some time alone with my client.’

  ‘Very well. We’ll call an end to this interview.’

  William shifted position with a light groan.

  ‘You all right?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Yes, yes. Touch of old age. My back stiffened up. Good thing I’m thinking of retirement. I’ll be able to put my feet up, not spend hours in cramped rooms, staring at monitors or computers.’ He got to his feet and stretched. ‘You did a good job, especially bringing down Holder. Jamie told me about your rugby-tackle.’

  ‘It would have been more effective if it had been Morgan, rather than me, who’d floored him. If it hadn’t been for Jamie, we’d have lost him.’

  He smiled and held her gaze. ‘Mitch would have been proud of you, you know? Very proud indeed. Some days, I really wish he was around to see who you’ve grown into.’

  ‘And other days?’

  ‘He’d have reminded me that he was also a pain in the arse at times and you take after him in many ways. Seriously, Kate, well done. You turned this around and you showed them all.’

  A lump rose in her throat. William was the only person, other than Chris, to have stood by her in recent years. ‘Thanks, William. That means a lot.’