by Jay Nadal
Meadows waved him in and pointed his pen at the seat opposite. He stretched out and eyed Scott with a fake smile which turned his stomach.
“Sir, I’ve been in contact with someone who I believe either knows the perp behind our murders, or is the murderer himself.”
Meadow’s weighed up Scott’s revelation. “When you say contact…”
Scott twisted in his seat. The heat rose from within, choking him. His neck felt clammy and moist against his collar. This was a bad idea after all. I should have kept my mouth shut…no better still, why the fuck didn’t I say something yesterday morning? Idiot.
Meadows pushed again, his lips pursed into an oval of impatience.
“Erm, sorry, Sir. He called me twice yesterday, and once this morning.”
Meadows jumped out of his seat, sending his chair flying back. “He did what? Where the fuck is it in the case files? There’s nothing on the system.” Meadows raged on for several minutes. Anger and insubordination were common themes that Meadows spewed several times. His eyes were rigid, cold and hard.
Eyes blazing fury were just the start. Scott winced as the strut, the slamming, and clipped words followed. “Scott, you’ve done some fucking stupid things in your career, but this tops them all. What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you deliberately looking for ways to end your career? Because if you are, you can fuck off right now!”
Meadows’s face had turned an uncomfortable shade of red, as he flailed his arms in front of him. “What are you trying to do, Scott? Do you want us to both lose our jobs?” He ran a hand through his hair, and massaged his throbbing neck as he paced over to the window, gazing out as if that simple act would make everything go away.
“Sir, I’m sorry, so hear me out. He told me that if I said anything, that those closest to me would come to harm.”
Meadows spun on his heel. “Who?”
“I can’t be certain, but I guess Cara, and Abby for starters. He’s following me, Guv, or has a way of monitoring my movements. He knows where I am, and what I’m doing, or who I’m with. I couldn’t take the risk, Sir. I thought if I could keep him talking that he may slip up and give us a clue.”
Meadows folded his arms and glared at Scott like an angry schoolteacher. “And did he?”
Scott shook his head and sighed. “No, Sir.”
“Did you recognise the voice? Did he have an accent?”
“His voice was disguised.”
“Now is not the time to deal with your fucking stupidity. This case is far bigger than you, your ego, and our careers. Tell me everything he said.”
Scott spent the next fifteen minutes detailing as much as he could of the conversations, and the discoveries at the Ashmans’. Meadows took Scott’s phone and told him he would get it back later in the day. He would arrange for the phone to be fitted with additional software to record any future conversations.
“I’m surrounded by idiots,” were the last words he heard Meadows mutter as he slunk out of the man’s office.
The team gathered around the incident board for a quick briefing and update. Raj was in fine form as normal. Circulating around them was a box of chocolate Mini Rolls, and a jumbo pack of Minstrels, the size that you often picked up at exorbitant prices at the cinema. Mike amused himself as he attempted to demolish a Mini Roll in one mouthful, much to Helen’s amusement.
Abby grabbed a few Minstrels. Any more than a few and her mind would be telling her that she needed to go for a run to burn off the extra calories. She looked around the team and smiled to herself as she noticed how just a few simple treats brought so much pleasure to them. In a way, she noticed how it gelled the team, and brought a light-hearted moment to every briefing.
Whilst her mind battled with trying to figure out her impossible life, she realised a part of her would miss this camaraderie and the sense of belonging. If she could pick up the vibe that the team shared and drop it in to a different job, she’d be happy.
Scott began first by detailing his conversations with the mystery caller. Now that Meadows knew, he had no reason to keep it quiet. A hint of fear crept into his thoughts as his foolish mind entertained an idea. Perhaps someone within this room could be feeding the killer or killer’s associates vital information surrounding their investigations. It would explain why the man always stayed one step ahead of them. Before he fell down the rabbit hole, he dismissed the notion as ridiculous.
There were visible expressions of surprise and consternation etched on the faces of the team as they listened almost word for word to what the unknown caller had said to Scott.
Mike let out a low whistle. “The mystery caller appears to be well versed in the art of concealment and evasion. Chances are, he was out there when he called you this morning. So he can see you, but you can’t see him.”
Scott agreed with Mike’s assessment, and trusted his input, knowing Mike’s military background had taught him those exact skills. He stressed the importance of their own safety whilst conducting enquiries.
He moved on to informing the team of his visit to the Ashmans’, the break-in, and Ashman’s editor, Jack Manning, being found on the premises rifling through Ashman’s belongings.
“So do you believe him? That he arrived after the break-in?” Raj asked.
“I’m not sure. I’ve got forensics doing a sweep of the property now, and I’ll have them go over Ashman’s office with a fine toothcomb. Manning was looking for something, and most likely the folder and flash drive. The high-tech unit can unlock the contents of the drive.”
“Helen and I visited Amy’s workplace this morning. She’s clean too, Guv. Well-liked, no problems, no worries, zilch, nada.”
Scott nodded. “Track back in her work history. You mentioned that she was at the Sussex County, so check her records there, and then go back further than that.”
“Guv, we’ve got a sighting of someone. We’ve gone through hours of CCTV footage from residential properties along the street where the Harps live. Six doors down, a camera in a neighbour’s back garden picked up movement at the far end close to the back fence. The whole back of their garden is shielded by shrubbery, but we can make out a dark figure moving behind the greenery before disappearing over the fence. It’s a piss poor, grainy image. I’ve pulled off stills.” Raj handed out photocopies.
The team studied the image in silence. The black-and-white image was dark and grainy, but a vague silhouette could just about be seen through the shrubbery.
“That doesn’t give us much to go on. It might not be our man. He could be an opportunist burglar scouting the area.”
“It’s the only lead we’ve got, captured the night before the incident took place.”
“Raj, can you see if the high-tech unit can enhance the video footage?”
“Will do, Guv.”
“Any chance this has any resemblance to the stalker outside the library?”
“I can show Angula a copy, but I doubt it will help.”
Scott agreed with Abby. “I need a volunteer to be present for the post-mortems on the Harp family later today. Any volunteers?”
Mike lifted his hand first and glanced at the others. From the look of despair on their faces, he sensed that no one else wanted the unenviable task.
“In the meantime, Ashman is missing. Uniform have been notified. We need to find him, so go back through his contacts and friends, and see if anyone’s seen him. I’m hoping he hasn’t come to harm.”
After the briefing, Scott headed back to his office. He stood by his window looking out at the street beyond.
“Where are you?” he whispered.
“Guv.”
Scott spun around to see Abby leaning in the doorway.
“Is that why you’ve been so distant?”
“The mystery caller?”
Abby nodded. “I wish you’d told me.”
“I wanted to. But I thought by talking to him, I could bring him out into the open, or get him to trip up.”
“Well, that didn�
�t work.”
“I was worried about you. He implied that if I said anything, those closest to me might get hurt. I couldn’t afford to drag you into this. I could never forgive myself.”
Abby slumped down in the chair opposite. “I’m a big girl. I give as good as I get. I’m a machine; I’m invincible.”
Scott admired her bravado. “Besides, you’ve got too much going on at the moment. The last thing I needed, was to give you more ammunition to leave.”
Abby offered the smallest of smiles. “Guv, I’ve thought about this so hard, to the point that it’s keeping me up at night. I want to leave because I feel guilty for not being there for my children. I’m tired, physically drained, sick of bureaucracy, and the lack of resources. Day in and day out it’s the same old shit.”
“I know. I have those days. We wouldn’t be human if we didn’t feel that.”
She levelled her eyes with Scott. “Do you know what broke me?”
The question took him by surprise. He shook his head.
Abbey wrapped her arms protectively around her chest as if cuddling herself. “It was cradling Sian in my arms that destroyed me. I’ve never recovered from that. I could feel her slipping away, and I hoped with all my soul she would hang on. It feels like we let her down. I’ve tried to bury those feelings. I hoped to control them, but her last few moments keep coming back to haunt me like a sick horror movie.”
Her words shocked Scott to his core. He had only known Abby as a strong, independent and driven go-getter. She hated failure, weakness or defeat. And here she was now, baring her soul to him. Abby was exposing her vulnerability, having stripped away the layers of her tough exterior.
Scott remembered that Abby had refused counselling services. “Abby, there is no way on this planet that I’m going to lose you. Let me work with you to make this right. I was there, too. I felt the same things. We need to get through this. Please?”
Abby’s eyes misted over. Feeling lost and helpless was alien to her. “I don’t know if I can, Guv.”
“Promise me one thing. After this case, please take some time off. I’ll support you in whatever you want to do. But I want to be there by your side. We can, and we will work through this. After that break away from work, and if you still feel you can’t do this any more, then I’ll support your decision.”
There was an uneasy silence between them. The sounds from around the building crept in, muted conversations in the corridor, a distant phone ringing, a squad car from below racing to an emergency.
Abby nodded and pulled her tired frame from the chair. The corner of her mouth curled up into the smallest of smiles as she shot Scott a quick glance before walking out.
29
Scott’s mind swirled. His body ached, his thoughts were fuzzy, and incoherent. He should have gone straight home. It was late in the evening, but he needed answers. Ashman’s files only reinforced his belief that Ashman’s investigations had uncovered something McCormick wanted buried. There was a definite connection between Ashman, Amy and McCormick.
He swung his car around, and sped off in the opposite direction, racing back through Brighton and out towards the marina. The headlights ahead swarmed over the darkened hill like a procession of glowing ants dancing towards him. He’d been told to stay away, but like a mosquito bite, he couldn’t stop scratching it.
Scott pulled up about twenty yards up the road and set off on foot. He didn’t get more than a few yards before a black BMW pulled up in front of him and the familiar face of DI Andy Quinn stepped out of the passenger side. He held his right arm out to block Scott’s passage. “Detective Inspector, you have instructions to stay off the radar.”
Scott braced himself to barge past when Quinn restrained him by the shoulders. “Inspector, you know we can’t have you speaking to McCormick. You are jeopardising our investigations. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if news gets back to your CC that you’ve fucked up our investigations.”
Scott and Quinn stood face-to-face, just a few inches apart, tension etched on their faces. Scott was furious an outside force was on his patch, and that his bosses had handcuffed him to stop him from doing his job.
“I really don’t want to do this to a fellow officer, but I can have you arrested…”
The suggestion incensed Scott further. He understood that the man had a job to do, but the Met Police were impinging on his own investigation. “Quinn, I’m investigating the murders of six people, two of them children. I’m certain that McCormick has involvement in some shape or form and therefore is an integral part of my murder investigation.”
“I appreciate that, Baker, but you will not speak to him,”
Scott stepped back and rested his hands on his hips. “Give me one good bloody reason why you don’t want me speaking to McCormick?”
Quinn folded his arms defiantly. “That’s confidential. It’s way above your pay grade.”
Scott held his hands up in surrender. “Okay. If I can’t talk to him, how can I work with you, so we both get what we need? You need to break his operations and bring him down, and I need to find out how he’s connected to the murder of six people.”
Quinn eyed him with suspicion. “I’m happy to work with you, Inspector Baker, but you have to understand that there is little information we can offer you. I appreciate that sharing information would serve us both. But the information I have access to is highly classified, and on the need-to-know basis. And you…”
Scott finished his sentence. “Yes, I get it…I don’t need to know.”
The town never slept. He cruised around the back streets of Hove and Brighton, his eyes darting from left to right, his awareness tuned from years of conditioning. The night belonged to him. He could move around in the shadows. He could do his reconnaissance and planning without being detected. He’d spent many hours trawling people’s back gardens, peering in. Windows were his opportunity to see the lives of so many playing out in front of him. It was as if he had a front row seat in the theatre and watched real-life dramas being played out in front of him on a stage of his own creation.
They are so naïve, oblivious to a spectator in their midst.
Dressed head to toe in black, he could move from garden to garden. His swiftness and agility allowed him to prowl like a black panther, patrolling his territory and searching out his prey.
And yet his mind played tricks on him. Some nights, he wished he lived in the country. Living in the city meant more people were out and about at night. Cars drove around with their headlights on, businesses lit their fluorescent signs. He couldn’t take it. He wanted to see the dark blanket of the sky littered with twinkling stars. He wanted shooting stars to become a normal occurrence. Artificial lights and soaring aeroplanes masked the beauty of the night sky like a travesty.
For just one night, he wanted to enjoy the magic of a full moon and a sky full of stars. The blackness of the night, just in the way he had seen them not so long ago, with a sleeping bag and tent as a companion.
30
Scott watched pedestrians heading to work as he sat in the front window of Munch. If the mysterious caller watched him, he’d be in full view, defiant, tempting him, goading him. It had been an early start for him. Cara hadn’t stayed at his place last night, since she had worked late into the night performing the post-mortems on the Harp family. Mike had been present for all three post-mortems and had sent Scott a text gone eleven p.m., confirming that all three had been conducted.
Abby came through the doorway and grabbed a seat next to him. A skinny latte in a takeaway cup waited for her. “You’re good to me,” she said, wrapping her cold hands around the cup, desperate for warmth. Regardless of the time of the year, Abby was prone to feeling chilled to the bone. Perhaps she exercised too much and didn’t eat enough. It didn’t matter whether it was thirty degrees in the middle of summer, or five degrees in December, she’d be frozen to the bone.
“I spent hours last night driving around Brighton and Hove hoping I’d see Ashma
n.” Scott huffed out a frustrated breath. “Stupid considering every patrol is on the lookout for him, but I’m worried about him.”
“Unless the killer has changed his mind, Ashman should still be alive. Maybe he’s gone into hiding, or his wife’s death has become too much for him. Maybe he wanted peace and quiet, the time to grieve?”
“I hope you’re right. Whilst I was digging around his property, I found evidence relating to a beach hut in his name further along the coast in Seaford. I’m guessing that they used it at weekends. If you wanted to get away from the unwanted press attention, the police, and even the killer, would you go there?”
Abby shrugged. “More than likely. You’d want to be away from everyone. Time to check it out?”
Scott agreed. But first he wanted to pop into the office and get an update from the high-tech unit on the flash drive.
A low hum of background activity greeted Scott as he strode through the high-tech unit. The tap, tap sound of fingers stroking keyboards punctured the air, and muted conversations added to the ambient sound. Warmth wrapped around Scott as he made his way over to Martin’s desk. With the number of machines, and their cooling fans blasting out heat, a stuffiness infiltrated the room not helped by the poor air conditioning.
“Martin, any joy?”
He spun around in his chair, a look of smugness on his face, as he greeted Scott with a smile. “Good, actually. We found a back door that allowed me to break through the encryption on each folder. Once I got through that, it was easy to access the files. None of them are password protected either, which made the job a piece of cake.”
A bolt of excitement ran through Scott’s veins as the prospect of discovering what Ashman was working on moved a step closer. “Can you send me a copy of those files? I need to head out now. I’ll have a look on my way.”
“Consider it done.”
The journey along the coast road to Seaford took them less than thirty minutes. Scott chose to avoid talking about their conversation, and Abby’s thoughts since. Abby’s concerns and her emotional state played heavily on his mind despite the frustration of the case. Even though desperation tugged him forward, he decided to hold back. He needed to give her the time to think things through without his interference.