by Diane Saxon
‘No.’
A coldness slicked over her. He wasn’t to be moved. Neither was Jenna.
With a fixed smile, she flicked a glance at her partner. ‘DC Ellis. Door.’
Mason stepped inside, closed the door and leaned against it. It didn’t matter if the anaesthetist was still in the room, the job had to be done.
She stepped into Gardner’s space, close enough to touch. Keeping a hair’s breadth between them, she stuck her face in his. ‘You will listen to me. As your senior officer, you will take notice…’ His lips parted and she shot him down. ‘Not another word or I’ll have you up on a discipline. If you are so stupid that you need me to explain exactly why you do not arrest this man, then perhaps you should reconsider your career path, especially in view of the fact that you have no respect for your senior ranking officers.’ She drew a breath, sensed him about to interject again, and held up a finger, almost up his nose. ‘Quiet!’
Obvious that, without an explanation, the officer wasn’t willing or happy to release the firm grip he had on his misplaced principles, Jenna put a brake on her own annoyance winging its way upwards and lowered her voice. ‘There are several reasons why you cannot arrest the man in the bed. One, entirely relevant and most important,’ she raised her voice a touch as she held up her thumb in his eyeline to keep his attention in place. ‘He isn’t in a fit condition. He’s comatose. You cannot arrest someone in that state. His brief would have a field day, the Force would be made a laughing stock and any case we had would be thrown out of court.’ She sucked in a long breath. ‘Two…’ She held up her forefinger. ‘You arrest him now and the clock starts to tick. Three.’ She stuck another finger in the air. ‘I do not want that clock to start ticking until I know for sure he is in a fit state to answer questions.’ With her raised fingers, she pointed at the man in the bed. ‘He is not in a fit state to answer to anyone but his own god and may not be for several days for all we know. Four,’ She raised another finger and pushed ice into her voice. ‘If you arrest him, the clock ticks, it runs out, I…’ she curled her fingers into a fist and punched her own chest. ‘I will have to go to the magistrates and ask for an extension and justify why we need one.’ Her voice dipped to gravel. ‘Do you know how difficult it will be to admit to the magistrate it was because a prick of an overzealous, inattentive officer made a balls-up of the entire case because he forgot the basic rule of justice within the British system which is…’ she hauled in air through her nostrils and then spat out, ‘… innocent until proven guilty.’
Rather than turning the puce she expected, Gardner’s blood drained from his face and he blinked three times and gave one jerky nod before he sidestepped her and took the four steps to the door.
Without a flicker of his normal amusement, Mason grabbed the door handle, turned it, pulled open the door and let the other officer through. The quiet shush of it underestimated Mason’s mood. A slow smile stretched his mouth. ‘Well handled, Sarg.’
Admiration glowed from the eyes of the anaesthetist as he uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on his hips, a crooked grin spread over his face. ‘Well played, DS Morgan.’ He winked and moved towards the door, turning before he let himself out. ‘Should you need a witness to any of that, you can count me in.’
Mason stepped out with him, she presumed to take his details in case they did need him. He snicked the door closed behind them while Jenna moved to the visitor’s chair and melted into it, a soft tremble weakening her limbs.
A few minutes was all she needed to recuperate.
She checked her messages and zapped a short one to Adrian. She could beg off their date, but she suspected seeing Adrian was what she needed. She’d already changed the time twice, with a third attempt she could only hope he understood.
She let the rhythmic beep of the machines soothe her as she leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes to breathe in the air-conditioned air, knowing PC Massey would be back at any moment.
Exhaustion hit her as she released another yawn and cracked open her eyes.
Her heart stopped.
The hollow-eyed stare of the man in the bed held hers. His cracked and bruised lips parted to reveal blood caked gums where two of his front teeth had been smashed out. It didn’t stop the evil gleam from between bruised eyelids or the sly grin that slithered over his face. A fist squeezed her heart to still the breath in her throat.
He raised his hand a few inches from the bed and gripped the patient-controlled analgesia pump.
His low voice grated out just above a whisper. ‘You think it’s over.’ With a gravelly chuckle, he clicked the button on the morphine pump three times to send him into oblivion, his hoarse voice fading on his last words. ‘But there’s another one.’
41
Wednesday 12 February, 20:40 hours
Unsettled by his words, and more exhausted than her brain could comprehend, Jenna pulled her car up outside her house and turned off her engine.
There was nothing further she could do. She’d let DI Taylor know so he could brief the next shift. If there was another body out there, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. They needed to check on the Osman list they’d compiled and wade through the missing persons’ register. She’d pick it up the following day, which at least promised a return to normal hours. They had their man, all they needed was to compile the evidence file.
For now, though, she needed to let go and enjoy the downtime.
Jenna stumbled in through her front door and held still while the huge white spotted dog pummelled her with his love. His hot tongue streaked over her face and wiped away the pain of the day.
With a low chuckle, she encouraged his huge paws off her shoulders and gave him a rib rub as she muscled her way past him into the kitchen.
Fliss turned, a wide smile curved her generous lips, light green eyes dancing with excitement. Eyes that had been emphasised with the dark smudge of dusky eyeshadow, turning her sister from day-time infant teacher to night-time vamp.
‘It’s date night.’ Her gaze chased over Jenna and her beautifully glossed lips pulled down at the edges. ‘Mason’s picking me up at 8.30.’ She indicated the kitchen clock with ten minutes to spare.
Jenna shot it a quick glance. ‘He may be running a little late.’
At the ting of Fliss’s phone indicating a text message, Jenna made an escape out of the kitchen door. She slipped off her ankle boots and tucked them into the boot cupboard under the stairs, out of temptation’s way if Domino was to be left alone. Otherwise he’d chew them to shreds before they returned.
She sprinted up the stairs, her long legs taking them two at a time, the burn in them making her flag by the time she reached her room.
She’d had to delay Adrian by another half an hour herself. It would give her enough time for a quick shower and to sling something halfway date-like on. She’d not even looked in her wardrobe, seriously doubted she had anything even remotely suitable for a dinner date and considered if he’d be insulted if she threw on a pair of jeans and a baggy jumper. He’d be on a winner if she didn’t fall asleep, head down in the soup.
She jiggled her shoulders and let the heavy woollen jacket slide off as she walked into her bedroom. She tossed it onto her bed and raised her fingers to unfasten the buttons on her white cotton shirt and pulled up short.
Hanging on the outside of the wardrobe door was a simple black shift dress overlayered by an ankle length, long sleeved leopard-print shirt.
Speechless, Jenna stared at the outfit she would never have chosen for herself, but nonetheless couldn’t get over the sheer beauty of it. She stretched out fingers to smooth over the soft material. Something beyond her imagination, and possibly beyond her pocket.
‘I thought you may not have much time to find something to wear.’
She glanced back at her sister in the doorway to her room. ‘Oh Fliss, it’s beautiful.’ She spread her hands to encompass Fliss and said what she’d been unable to say downstairs
when the phone had interrupted. ‘You’re beautiful.’
Dressed in knee length high heeled boots, making her top the six foot mark, she wore slimline black jeans tucked in. Fliss slipped on a crimson suede jacket over the top of a pure white silk blouse. Crystals sparkled at her ears and her smile spread wide. ‘It’s been so long since I dated, since I even dressed up.’ She smoothed her palms over her hips. ‘I feel… weird. And a little shaky. I can’t believe I’m going out with Mason.’ She pressed her fingers against her lips. ‘I always thought he was hot, even when I was with Ed, but who would have thought he’d ask me out?’ She did a little jiggle, then stepped forward, grabbed Jenna and spun her around until she faced the compact en-suite bathroom. ‘Go. Shower. Hurry.’
The pat on Jenna’s backside had her trotting in and slamming the door behind her. It was no use, of course, to expect privacy. As she stripped, Fliss flung open the door and stepped inside.
Still scraping her short hair away from her forehead, Jenna ignored her sister’s incessant talking and stepped under the thankfully scalding water. Meant to be a quick body wash, Jenna realised she needed more than that to scrub away the tiredness of the day. As the steam rose, she closed her eyes and tipped her head back to appreciate the pound of the water that managed to drown out Fliss’s voice and give her a moment’s white noise so her mind could empty.
It may have been a mistake encouraging a relationship between Fliss and Mason. She really didn’t need to hear how hot he was. She hoped to God Fliss didn’t give her details if they had sex.
She slammed the water off, flung open the door and grabbed the towel from Fliss’s waiting hands. ‘I don’t want to know.’
‘What?’ Fliss’s eyes widened.
‘I don’t want any details of your sex life with Mason. I have to work with the man.’
Surprise flitted over her sister’s face. ‘Ummm, okay. But what brought that on? I was talking about the outfit I bought you.’
Tiredness had made her paranoid. Still… ‘You would. Eventually. But don’t.’ Already pink, she scrubbed her skin with the downy towel until it glowed, then wrapped a smaller towel around her head. She swiped a cloth over the mirror and peered at her face. Red and blotchy from the heat of the shower, she was a mess. ‘Oh, God.’
‘Come here.’ Fliss grabbed her wrist and Jenna almost lost her towel as her sister dragged her through into the bedroom. She glanced at her watch, pushed Jenna down onto the bed and followed her, sitting sideways as she swiped up a huge make-up bag and placed it in her lap. ‘We have thirteen minutes before Mason comes to pick me up.’
‘Thirteen minutes before Adrian arrives too.’ Jenna grumbled from under the towel as she rubbed her hair until it stood on end.
‘Good grief.’
Before Jenna could move, Fliss’s fingers stroked a cooling liquid along her overheated cheeks and forehead, down the length of her nose and along her jawline. Jenna closed her eyes and gave in to her sister’s ministrations. She was good at this. Better than Jenna. Jenna wouldn’t bother normally, but the blotchiness…
Domino ambled in to observe the sisters for a brief moment, before he hung his head and lumbered onto Jenna’s bed, turning in a tight catlike circle before he grumbled his objection at being ignored and lay down.
Quick brushstrokes smoothed over her eyelids and Jenna’s body melted into the soothing routine her sister employed. She opened her eyes and Fliss handed her a mascara wand. Not the closest friend of mascara, Jenna found she smudged it more often than not and finished up by the end of the day looking like a panda or having to wash it off in the police station washrooms by lunchtime. All the same, she only needed to wear it for a scant few hours.
Fliss held up a small mirror and Jenna leaned in to swipe the mascara over her lashes, impressed at the smooth blend of golds and browns over her eyelids with the shimmer of oyster under her arched eyebrows.
With no more time to admire herself, she pushed up from the bed and grabbed the underwear Fliss had laid out for her and yanked it on. Not new, it was still smart enough, should she feel the need to get naked at some point during the evening.
She snatched up her deodorant and rollered it under her arms and then spritzed something Fliss had bought her on her neck and wrists. The sultry aroma of it rose from her warmed skin to make her wonder about the whole getting naked prospect.
She shot Fliss a quick glance as her sister handed her the shift dress. ‘I’m a bit jittery too. I like Adrian. What if I make a balls-up of this?’
Fliss grinned. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘I have with every relationship I’ve had so far.’ She wiggled her backside as she persuaded the dress up over her hips and pulled the wide straps over her shoulders, turning her back so Fliss could zip it up.
‘I don’t think so. You haven’t made a mess of it. I think you’ve never found someone you liked enough to be bothered.’
Jenna opened her mouth to deny it, but Fliss saved her the bother by turning on the hairdryer and blasting it over Jenna’s head. Her vigorous rub almost pulled Jenna’s hair from her scalp as she touched the tender spot where Julia Mills had yanked it. Jenna hissed as Fliss’s hand scrubbed over it again, and she jerked back, grabbing the hairdryer from her sister.
Unoffended, Fliss turned her back and slipped the straighteners out of Jenna’s top dresser drawer and plugged them in to heat up. She glanced at her watch and held up six fingers. Six! Six minutes.
Jenna snatched the straighteners off the small cream dressing table and whipped them through her hair without even looking in the mirror. She’d run out of time to primp and pose.
She switched them off at the electric socket and spun around in time to catch the chiffon shirt Fliss threw at her. She slid her arms in and left it open at the front to show off the plain black shift underneath. She stared at the heels Fliss placed in front of her. At least four inches.
‘Fliss, I can’t.’ She couldn’t remember the last time she’d indulged in kick-ass heels. She’d probably break her neck.
‘Just try them, they’re not as steep as you think, they’ve got this hidden sole thing inside.’
Jenna slipped her feet in and turned at last to look at herself in the full length mirror. The same dress size as her sister, Fliss had chosen the perfect fit. The perfect shape. The perfect colour.
Although Jenna would never have picked it out for herself, the subtle flamboyance suited her, the dark bronze in the leopard print picking out the tones in her hair and the hazel flecks in her green eyes.
She turned sideways as she caught Fliss’s gaze in the mirror. ‘Thank you. I can’t believe you managed to dress both of us tonight.’
‘Ah, no problem.’ Fliss pressed herself against Jenna, wrapping one arm around her, and held up her phone for a selfie. ‘I left the receipt on your dressing table. You can transfer the money over to me when you get a moment.’
The doorbell chimed and Fliss swept from the room to leave Jenna, mouth agape, staring into the sad eyes of a Dalmatian who was about to be deserted for the evening.
42
Thursday 13 February, 08:00 hrs
Jim Downey scraped at the thick grey whiskers on his chin while he leaned shoulder to shoulder with Mason and Ryan to study the computer screen, his half-cut glasses perched on the end of his long nose. ‘It went to wrack and ruin.’
Jenna wrapped her arms around her waist to keep the warmth in while she peered over their shoulders, aware of the rest of the team’s attention.
‘Started neat, almost perfect, with his first victim, Marcia Davies.’ Mason flicked the photograph of Marcia up on the screen.
Jim Downey squinted at the screen. ‘It’s a DNA nightmare, there’s so much of it. The blood loss from Marcia was immense, it washed over everything. That, together with his dousing of bleach, which killed off so much evidence, it’s untrue. It doesn’t mean to say we won’t find the evidence to connect the murders, but it takes time and currently we have nothing.’
DI Taylor hummed in the back of his throat, his narrowed eyes directed to the screen. ‘The pose is almost an exact copycat of McCambridge’s fourth victim. McCambridge had perfected it by then.’
‘Mmm.’ Mason agreed. ‘The copycat killer started with perfection. Then he made a mistake with victim two. Karen Prestwich.’
Mason tapped the keyboard and brought up the second victim on a second screen. ‘He made a mistake somehow with his choice of victim. Messy, but still within the parameters of the copycat.’
Jim rubbed his fingers over his chin and squinted at the screen. ‘DNA from the semen collected from the victim matches that of Mark Pearson.’
‘Which ties him into victim three.’ Mason tapped again. ‘Eleanor Mooney’s murder went to shit.’
‘A bloodbath.’ Jenna blew out a breath.
The photograph Jim had taken of the third scene took on the surrealness of a horror movie. Blood splatter coated every surface, floor, cupboards, benches, ceiling. The pattern daubed the room as though someone had exploded a blood bomb in the middle.
‘So much DNA in that room, all mixed together like a cocktail. We’re currently eliminating anyone else who had access to the room. It’s a nightmare. Paramedics, police officers, the mother. However, the main mass of DNA we believe belongs to the two – for the sake of argument – victims.’ Jim pushed his glasses higher up his nose and puffed his lips out. ‘It doesn’t make sense to me.’
‘No,’ Jenna agreed. ‘There were only two people witness to what happened. One of those is dead, the other, I suspect, after his attitude during the brief moment he came around last night, isn’t going to co-operate.’ She cupped each of her hands on Jim and Mason’s shoulders as she leaned over them to study the third scene in closer detail. ‘I’ve asked the hospital if they can reduce his self-app of morphine so we can drag some sense out of him, but they say he needs the pain relief.’ She huffed out an irritated sigh. ‘He said “there’s another one”. We need to question him. Find out if there’s another body. In the meantime, we’re working through the Osman list.’