Deadly Fallout (Detective Zoe Finch Book 6)

by Rachel McLean

“Maybe Starling was working with the gang, and they killed him when he was suspended. Maybe Petersen has switched allegiances.”

  She shook her head. “Petersen was breaking the terms of his sentence. Removing his tracker and leaving his house. I believe he was meeting Hamm.”

  “And how would that get him killed, exactly?”

  “I don’t know. But that gym is the closest thing we have to a current location for Hamm. We need to search it.”

  “I’m sorry, Zoe. I don’t know what’s got into you, but I can’t authorise a search of a building on the basis of someone working there who we once arrested. Now if you can prove that Hamm owns the place…”

  She stood up. “OK.”

  “You can prove it?”

  “Not yet. But we will. I’m sure of it.”

  She stormed out of the office before Dawson had a chance to speak. People stared as she crashed along the corridor back to her office. Let them.

  She threw open the office door, making Rhodri jump.

  “Boss. You OK?”

  “I’m fine. I’ve got a job for you.”

  Chapter Seventy

  Ian felt his fists clench as Randle walked into the court room. He was back. But just what was he going to say?

  A murmur of surprise ran through the spectators as the Superintendent walked towards the front and took a seat which had been saved for him.

  Ian watched Jane acknowledge Randle in silence. Even with this new solicitor instead of Edward Startshaw, he knew he was a pawn in someone else’s game. Whatever happened, he would be the last to know. And the first to be sacrificed.

  The judge called for quiet and the room settled down. Randle looked up and gave Ian a tight smile. Ian felt his cheeks inflame.

  Randle was called. He strode to the witness stand, looking quite different from last time he’d stood there. Ian wondered if he was feeling as calm as he looked, or if he was just a damn good actor.

  The CPS barrister, Ms Hegarty, stood up. She turned to the jury.

  “Welcome back, and I hope this warm weather won’t impact our ability to concentrate this afternoon. I know I was glad of a cool beer at lunchtime.”

  A ripple travelled through the jury. Ian wasn’t sure if they were allowed to drink during a trial, or even if the barristers were (or indeed if Ms Hegarty really had). But it made her seem less removed from the jury, more of an everywoman. As if a woman who wore a flapping gown and a ridiculous wig to work could be described as an everywoman.

  Randle watched all this, his face still. Ian’s respect for the man was waning fast.

  “Hello again, Detective Superintendent.”

  “Good afternoon.”

  “It’s good to have you back with us.”

  Randle looked at the jury. “Please allow me to apologise for my absence this morning. Urgent police business.”

  I bet, thought Ian. He flicked his gaze around the court. Carl Whaley, at the front of the public benches, ran his finger inside his collar. Alison was three rows behind, her eyes on Ian. She looked away as she caught his eye. Two of the women in the jury fanned themselves with notebooks.

  “We’ll be continuing with your testimony from yesterday afternoon. As you were sworn in then, we don’t need to do it again. You’re still happy for me to call you Superintendent?”

  Randle turned so his body was square to the barrister. “Of course.”

  “Good. So let’s get straight to the point. The defendant is accused of planting evidence on a victim of the explosion on board flight 546. Is this correct?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Were you present at the airport at this time?”

  “I was. As I’ve already testified, I was Gold Command.”

  “Did you and the defendant work together during this operation?”

  “Not directly. As far as I recall, we didn’t even speak to each other.”

  Ian felt sweat drip down his back. So far, Randle was telling the truth. Ian had arrived at the airport and immediately gone with Zoe to the runway.

  “You didn’t give the defendant any orders with regard to what he was expected to do?”

  Randle’s gaze travelled over Ian. “The defendant is – was – a sergeant. There were a few officers between myself and him when it came to the chain of command.”

  “So who did give him his orders?”

  “I assume it was DI Finch.”

  “Zoe Finch?”

  “She was Bronze Command. She took Ian to the runway to secure the scene.”

  “So we’ve heard.” Ms Hegarty glanced at the jury, then returned to Randle. “We’ve also heard that it was the defendant’s day off. That he was disturbed while on a shopping trip with his family and told to report to the airport.”

  Randle shrugged. “Plenty of officers get called in from leave when there’s a major incident.”

  “Who made that phone call?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “DI Finch?”

  Randle looked off to one side as if considering. “I didn’t believe so, no.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I was with her. I drove her from the Force CID offices in Harborne to the airport.”

  “Why did you do this? Do officers not need their own transport?”

  “Zoe’s – DI Finch’s – role was onsite. She didn’t need to go anywhere.”

  “So you thought it made sense to give her a lift.”

  “Not a lift. I needed to be there, and so did she. I could brief her en route.”

  “Did you tell her that Sergeant Osman would be arriving?”

  “I didn’t know that Sergeant Osman would be arriving. So no, I didn’t tell her.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Positive.”

  The barrister walked back to her bench. She picked up a sheet of paper and placed it in front of Randle. “Because we have records of you making a call to the defendant at three fifteen that afternoon. Which would be around half an hour before you arrived at the scene.”

  Randle leaned over and peered at the sheet of paper, unperturbed. “That’s not my number.” He drew his phone out of his pocket. “I can call you now, if you’d like to know what my actual number is.”

  “Superintendent Randle, would you agree that it’s not unusual for people to have two phones?”

  “Some people do. Not me.”

  “You wouldn’t keep a service phone and another phone for private use?”

  Randle shook his head. “Far too complicated.”

  “Interesting. Because we have text records from this number.” She jabbed the sheet of paper with a finger.

  “Can you hand that over please, Ms Hegarty?” The judge asked.

  “Certainly.” She gestured back to her colleague who passed over a copy.

  “And here’s another printout, of a text message sent from you to my client an hour earlier.” Hegarty picked up another sheet of paper. “This is a record of messages sent from this number to the defendant. There are only two, although there are plenty of calls. The second message says this.”

  She cleared her throat and turned towards the jury as she read.

  “Instructions to come. Be ready.”

  Hegarty looked at Randle over the paper. “This was sent the day before the attacks.”

  Ian’s stomach flipped. He remembered that text.

  “There’s no evidence this was me,” said Randle.

  “In this text, it seems that my client is being given orders.”

  “It does indeed. But not by me.”

  “Superintendent, the police have traced this phone’s location on the day of the attacks. It was at the airport.”

  “I imagine plenty of phones would have been.”

  “On that same morning, it’s been traced to the mast closest to your home.”

  “That mast must serve hundreds of addresses. I don’t—”

  “And we have one occasion, in February, when it was in the vicinity of Harborne Police
Station.”

  Randle straightened in his chair. “Do you have the phone itself?”

  “It’s my job to ask the questions, Superintendent.”

  “Because if you don’t have it, then—”

  Hegarty raised a hand. The jury were getting antsy, two of the men in the front row leaning forward, their elbows on the barrier in front of them. Ian chewed his bottom lip and tried to control his breathing.

  “Moving on,” said the barrister. “Am I right in thinking that you were the Senior Investigating Officer in the Canary case?”

  “I was.”

  “Please describe the Canary investigation for the court.”

  Randle took a moment to compose himself. A lock of hair had fallen over his eye. He swept it back and rubbed his nose. “Canary was a high profile investigation into a suspected child abuse network operating in the city. We arrested three men following covert surveillance and—”

  “Who were these men?”

  “Their names were Howard Petersen, Jory Shand and Robert Oulman.”

  “Were you investigating anyone else?”

  Ian noticed Carl Whaley straightening. What was he expecting?

  “No,” said Randle.

  “No?” replied the barrister. “Only three men. No one else involved in this significant criminal network?”

  “We did not find any conclusive evidence pointing to other suspects.”

  “And two of the three men you mention received suspended sentences for money laundering, is that correct?”

  “It is.”

  “Sounds like you failed to do your job.”

  “The men were tried in this very building. The process of justice was done.”

  “Hmm.” Hegarty regarded Randle for a moment. “Superintendent, coming back to the photograph which was introduced into evidence yesterday.”

  Randle nodded, his eyes on the barrister.

  “Can you remind us who this woman was?” Hegarty held up the photo.

  “I didn’t know her name. I met her at a social event.”

  “You didn’t leave this event with her?”

  Randle scratched his cheek. “I don’t recall who I left the event with.”

  “Superintendent, we have already heard that this is Alina Popescu, the woman who detonated a nail bomb at New Street Station on the same day as the airport attack. So we’re expected to believe your acquaintance with her was an unfortunate coincidence?”

  “We weren’t acquaintances. I didn’t even know her name.”

  DI Whaley’s foot was jiggling now, his leg crossed over the other. What was going on? Surely he wasn’t expecting Randle to incriminate himself?

  “Superintendent, do you recognise this man?” The barrister took another sheet from her assistant, who was leaning over the desks to pass it. She handed it to Randle.

  “This is Trevor Hamm,” Randle replied. “He was a witness in an investigation into his wife’s death last October. The coroner ruled it death by misadventure.”

  “You didn’t believe the death was suspicious?”

  “The verdict was death by misadventure.”

  “Irina Hamm, the unfortunate lady who drowned, had been the victim of a violent robbery a few days earlier, is that correct?”

  The judge leaned down from his chair. “Ms Hegarty, I do hope you can get to the point soon.”

  The barrister looked back at him. “Very soon, Your Honour.”

  “Because my patience is wearing thin.”

  “Apologies, Your Honour. I will get to the point.”

  The judge raised an eyebrow. Go on, then.

  Hegarty stepped closer to Randle. “Superintendent, was Alina Popescu being held against her will by Trevor Hamm and forced to have sex with men for money?”

  “We found evidence she’d been living at a brothel run by men we suspected of having links to Hamm. But we found no evidence she was involved in prostitution.” Randle glared at the barrister as if daring her to go further.

  Ian knew what the jury would be thinking. If Alina Popescu was a prostitute, and Randle had been photographed with her…

  Ms Hegarty stared back for a moment as if weighing up her options. She sniffed and took a breath.

  “Superintendent, did you believe Trevor Hamm’s organisation to be behind the New Street bombing?”

  “We found no concrete evidence implicating anyone except Alina Popescu.”

  Hegarty frowned. “Did you find evidence of an organised crime group having prior knowledge of the airport attack, and using that knowledge to take women from another plane? Did that group then force those women into prostitution?”

  “We arrested a number of individuals relating to that incident.”

  “Were these individuals associates of Trevor Hamm?”

  “As far as the evidence shows, the men we arrested acted alone.”

  Hegarty tugged at her sleeve. Ian could tell this wasn’t going the way she expected.

  The barrister returned to her notes and leafed through them. “Superintendent, yesterday you told this court, ‘We believe the intelligence they received about the airport attack gave them the idea of launching a second attack in tandem, and hoping the terrorist organisation would be blamed for both’.” She looked up. “Are you now saying that isn’t the case?”

  “What we believed and what we found evidence for are different things. The beliefs I referred to yesterday were purely speculation.”

  A ripple went through the gallery.

  Ms Hegarty scratched her neck. “Is a warrant out for Trevor Hamm’s arrest?”

  “I wouldn’t be able to tell you the details of an operation I’m not directly involved with.”

  “Did you have direct contact with Trevor Hamm and his associates, in the run up to the attacks?”

  “I did not. My colleagues interviewed him with regard to the death of his wife and the burglary at his flat, but that was some time before—”

  “Did Mr Hamm introduce you to Alina Popescu?”

  “I met her at a party. No one introduced me to her.”

  In the gallery, DI Whaley let out a strangled sound. Ian clenched his fists.

  “Superintendent,” said the barrister. “Did Trevor Hamm’s organisation recruit you to provide information to them about police operations? And did they instruct you to tell the defendant to plant explosives residue on Mr Nadeem Sharif?”

  Ian held his breath.

  “Absolutely not,” said Randle. He looked at Ian. “DS Osman acted alone. His only instructions as far as I’m aware were from DI Finch, to help her secure the crime scene.”

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Zoe’s phone rang as she was about to brief Rhodri. It was Mo.

  “Boss. Rhodri called me. Your mum… I’m so sorry.”

  She pulled a face at Rhodri and retreated towards Mo’s empty desk. “I’m fine. I need to work this case. It’ll distract me.”

  “Zo, you need to go home. You need to talk to Nicholas.”

  “You know what she was like,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “More than anyone.” Mo had known Zoe since before Nicholas was born. He’d seen the neglect and borderline abuse she’d suffered from Annette. The way she’d had no choice but to leave home after her dad died, and find a place to live with her baby son. “But she’s your mum. Whatever happened between the two of you, it’ll affect you.”

  “Yes, it affects me,” she told him. “I’m bloody livid. She went out when she’d been drinking and she got herself run over. She was a liability.”

  “You know you don’t mean that.”

  She clutched the phone, her head pounding. “I don’t know what I mean.” She sank into Mo’s chair.

  “Go home, Zo. I’ll come round as soon as I’m done at the prison.”

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  “I want to. I’ve spoken to Fulmer, Connie is in with Adams. We wanted to make sure they had no chance to confer.”

  “Nothing to report?”
/>
  “I can tell you about it later. But no, nothing yet.”

  She felt herself deflate. “I’m sorry, Mo.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for.”

  “Nicholas. He loved her, despite everything. He’ll be…”

  “He’ll get through it, because he’s got you.”

  “How do I support him through his grief when I don’t feel any myself?”

  “I don’t believe that’s true.”

  She bent her head, her eyes screwed tight. “No.”

  “Go home, Zo.” Mo’s voice was gentle. “I’ll make sure Dawson knows.”

  “Oh, fuck.”

  “What?”

  “I just barged into his office demanding a warrant to search the gym.”

  “Did he..?”

  “No. We need to prove Hamm owns the place.”

  “We can work on that.”

  Stop talking to me like I’m a child, she thought. She hadn’t lived with her mum for seventeen years. She’d barely spoken to her until six months ago. This was nothing. She was needed on the case.

  But Mo would never believe that.

  “Can you work on that angle, Mo? I’ll take some time, just today. Tell me if you find anything.”

  “Sure. What about the body in the reservoir?”

  She’d almost forgotten about Jukes. “Sheila and I were going to run a briefing at two thirty.” She looked at her watch: quarter to.

  “Sheila can do it, and I’ll help.”

  “Dawson will want to stick his oar in.”

  “Maybe he should. You need to let go. Let the rest of us take on the load.”

  “OK.” Her voice was strangled. Her body felt light and heavy at the same time, like she might pass out or run a marathon.

  “Go home.”

  “OK.” She hung up and gave Rhodri a rueful smile. He nodded understanding and she grabbed her jacket.

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  The morgue was the same as ever, only today it felt colder. Zoe drummed her foot against the hard floor as she waited for Adana.

  The pathologist emerged from a set of swing doors, peeling off an apron. “Zoe. I’m so sorry.”

  “I want to see her.”

  “She’s not ready. I…”

  “Please.”