Gareth Dawson Series Box Set

by Nathan Burrows

  “Yes. He sent a video a few days later. It showed Philip with a young girl.”

  “Were you in it?” Kate asked, smirking at Annette.

  “Ignore that,” Laura said, shooting a cynical look at the policewoman.

  “Okay,” Malcolm said. “Then you exchanged text messages to set up the payment which you made from Barclay’s Bank in Wroxham?”

  “Yes,” Annette replied, trying to put a note of finality into her voice. There was much that she had left out of the conversation, such as it was, but she hadn’t lied.

  Malcolm sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. As he did so, Kate leaned forward. The good cop was done, and it was obviously time for the bad cop.

  “Mrs McGuire,” Kate said. “You’ve already told us that you disposed of the photographs by burning them in the garden incinerator.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “They were disgusting.”

  “If they actually existed at all.”

  “They did,” Annette replied. “You can check the courier who delivered them.”

  “We already have,” Kate said. “They’ve confirmed a package was delivered to you that originated in Bali, but not what was in it.”

  “They did exist, I’m telling you.”

  “So, these e-mails he sent you and this video?”

  “Yes?”

  “Where are they? Only our technical team can’t seem to find them on your computer.”

  “I deleted them.”

  “There should still be traces.”

  “I went onto Google to find out how to completely delete stuff like that. I didn’t want it on my computer. You’ve got the text messages on the phone, though.”

  “Yes, we have,” Kate said. She looked at Annette, a slow smile spreading across her face. “They only started after we came to speak to you about your husband potentially being blackmailed.”

  “So?” As Annette said this, Laura placed her hand on her forearm again.

  “Annette,” Laura said quietly. “Just let DC Hunter ask her questions.”

  “Very kind of you, Miss Flynn,” Kate replied with a sneer. “Thank you. Mrs McGuire, who is he?”

  “Who is who?”

  “Your contact in Bali? The one you and Philip have been sending money to? Does he get the children for you?”

  “No.”

  “Is that what the money is for? Procuring children for sex?”

  “No!”

  “When you found out we thought Philip was being blackmailed, you set up a little text exchange with your contact to reinforce that idea, didn’t you?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Did you know you were being videoed when you held that child down?”

  “No!” Annette shouted. Her voice was starting to wobble, and the word came out as more of a sob than anything else.

  “So you didn’t know you were being videoed?”

  “That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t there. That’s not me.”

  “It certainly looks like you, Mrs McGuire,” Kate replied, glancing down at the Celtic cross on Annette’s wrist. “Right down to that tattoo. If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck, what do you think it is?”

  “Superintendent Griffiths?” Laura said sharply. “Is this really necessary?”

  Annette could feel the tears streaming down her face. This was all so wrong. She just wanted to go home, drink as much wine as she could, and curl up in the corner of her lounge until everything went away.

  “You’re lying, Mrs McGuire,” Kate said, her voice like steel. “You’re lying about the photographs and the e-mails. There is no blackmailer, is there? Someone’s over there in Bali, one of your child molesting friends, and he’s laughing at you now.”

  “No, no, none of that is true,” Annette said, now crying in earnest. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand but they kept coming. Through the tears, she saw Malcolm glancing at his watch before leaning forward to press a button on the dictaphone on the table.

  “Interview terminated at thirteen ten.”

  67

  “Thoughts, Kate?” Malcolm said when they sat down in his office. The custody sergeant had taken Annette back to the holding cells in floods of tears. The last Malcolm had seen of her, Laura was leading her into her cell.

  “I think she’s lying through her teeth,” Kate replied, placing a cup of coffee from the police canteen in front of him. He peered into it suspiciously.

  “Is that tea or coffee?” he asked her.

  “Well, I asked for coffee but I’m not sure to be honest. Could be either.”

  “Why do you think she’s lying?”

  “The video, for one thing. Plus the fact that everything she said in there is either deleted, or missing.” As Kate said the word ‘deleted’, she made air quotes with her fingers. “Very convenient. The text messages only appeared after we went to see her.”

  “You’re right about that,” Malcolm replied. “She certainly would have had ample opportunity to set that up after the fact to make us see what we want to see. Okay, let’s just think for a moment. Where would we be if we didn’t have the video?”

  Kate sat down opposite him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if it weren’t for the video, it would all add up. There’s nothing implausible in what she said.”

  “But we do have the video.”

  “Which was sent to us, not recovered by us.”

  “Does that matter?”

  “Not in the grand scheme of things, no.”

  “Is it enough for the CPS, the video?”

  Malcolm paused before replying. He had spoken to Jon Brandon down at the NCA, and asked him the same question. Jon had just laughed.

  “Yes, definitely. If she’s convicted, she’ll be looking at fourteen years. Possibly more because of the international element.” He sipped his drink before putting the polystyrene cup back down, still unsure if it was tea or coffee. “Good Lord, that’s rancid. If Miss Flynn’s switched on, which she is—even without Paul Dewar in the wings—she’ll go for the coercion element. He made her do it, Your Honour. It won’t get her off, but it would reduce the sentence quite significantly.”

  “Flynn’s not got much else she can use to mitigate it, has she?”

  “What’s the story with you and her, anyway?” Malcolm asked, deliberately looking out of the window as he did so.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Kate, it’s obvious there’s more than just the normal animosity between the police and defence lawyers there.” He turned to look at her. “What’s the story?”

  “It’s nothing, Malcolm. We just had a bit of a run in outside work, that’s all.”

  “What do you mean, run in?”

  “It was nothing. Just a personal thing.”

  “Kate, look at me.” When she did, he deliberately kept his expression neutral. “Tell me in confidence if you need to. I don’t want something coming back to bite us on this later on. She’s sharp. Don’t take this the wrong way, but she would rip you to shreds on the stand.”

  Kate sighed, a resigned look appearing on her face.

  “We had a bit of a, er, a thing a while ago.”

  Malcolm felt his neutral expression start to slip, and he had to work to keep it in place.

  “What sort of thing?”

  “It was nothing. Just a bit of a fumble in a club. It didn’t go anywhere.”

  “Oh,” Malcolm replied, surprised. “Right. Well, that could be awkward. You don’t need me to tell you that having a bit of a fumble with a defence lawyer probably isn’t the best move for a copper, do you?”

  “No, sir,” Kate said. At least she had the good grace to look contrite, Malcolm thought. He wanted to tell the young woman not to shit on her own doorstep but, from the look on her face, he didn’t need to.

  “Right, I think we need to speak to the CPS. See if they’re happy for us to move to charging McGuire.”


  “Can I ask you something, Malcolm?” He looked at Kate, picking up on the change back to the use of his first name.

  “Sure, fire away.”

  “You’re not convinced, are you?”

  “I wasn’t until that video turned up.”

  “But it was your idea to look at her?” Malcolm regarded Kate carefully, but could see that there was no malice in the question.

  “It was, you’re right.” He tapped the side of his nose. “But this has been wrong before, and it will be again.”

  Just as he said this, his phone started vibrating in his pocket.

  “Griffiths?” Malcolm said as he answered it.

  “Hey sir, it’s Elizabeth down in technical support. Have you got a second?”

  “Elizabeth, you know I’ve got all the time in the world for you.” It was true. Malcolm had had a soft spot for the woman who ran their technical support department since the day she’d started.

  “You old charmer,” she replied with a laugh. Malcolm grimaced at the way she used the word old to describe him. “We’ve got the laptops from the McGuire case with us.”

  “Have you found anything?”

  “We’ve not done a deep dive yet, but the initial scans aren’t throwing anything up. My lads are on them at the moment seeing as the laptops both arrived with biscuits, but there’s something just cropped up on the woman’s laptop that I thought you might be interested in?”

  “Hold on, I’m going to put you on speaker. I’m here with DC Hunter.” Malcolm fiddled with the screen and when he managed to turn on the speaker, put the phone down on the table between him and Kate. “Okay Elizabeth, fire away.”

  “Right, so we’ve been in her Gmail account to try to retrieve these alleged e-mails, and we’re not having much joy on that front. But she’s just had an interesting e-mail. Let me read it out.”

  Malcolm listened intently as Elizabeth read out the e-mail demanding another ten thousand pounds.

  “Can you trace it?” he asked, hopefully.

  “It’s from a Protonmail account, which are impossible to get into properly. We have traced the route, though. It’s from an Internet cafe in Denpasar which, according to Google, is in Bali. I’m looking at it now on Google Streetview.”

  “Could you send me the details?”

  “Sure. I’ll ping them over now.”

  “You’re a star, Elizabeth. Thank you.”

  When he had disconnected the call, he turned to look at Kate.

  “Interesting,” she said. “It doesn’t change anything, though.”

  “Maybe whoever sent her the e-mail doesn’t know that we’ve got her in custody.”

  “What are you thinking, boss?”

  “I want you to set up a Skype call between us and the NCA. I’ll text Jon now and let him know, but I want to get their take on this.” Malcolm paused, his phone in his hand. “There might be something we can do.”

  68

  Laura walked into her office and opened the windows before sitting at her desk and turning her computer on. She thought about making a cup of tea, but she decided against it. When Gareth and Dave turned up, they could go to the coffee shop around the corner. Their milk would be more likely to be in date than the carton in her fridge. As she waited for the computer to boot up, she looked around the office.

  There was something missing, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what. Obviously, Paul wasn’t there, but it wasn’t that. It was something else. As her eyes drifted around the interior, she realised what it was when they reached the grandfather clock. It was still, its deep resonant tick tock absent.

  Laura got to her feet and crossed to the clock. She reached up and stroked the fine mahogany, wondering whether she should try to wind it up. Paul’s operation was scheduled for later that afternoon, and he had specifically asked her not to visit him.

  “The last thing you need to see, my dear,” he had told her when she’d spoken to him on the phone, “is me in a hospital gown with my arse hanging out of the back.”

  Sighing, Laura returned to her computer. She checked her e-mails, but other than routine business, there was nothing interesting. It took her a few moments to get the scanner working, but she managed to scan the paperwork that Gareth had signed. She attached the document to an e-mail to the CPS, requesting that she be allowed access to the full video for analysis and included her mobile number so they could call her.

  “Bloody hell, it’s a bit posh in here,” a male voice boomed out. She jumped as Dave walked into the office. He was followed by Gareth who had a wry grin on his face.

  “This, Dave, is how the other half live,” he said.

  “You could sleep on this carpet,” Dave replied, rubbing his shoe across the pile. He looked at Laura and grinned. “Have you got any jobs going? Only my current boss is a bit of a knob.” Gareth playfully slapped his hand around Dave’s head.

  “Shut up and make the tea,” Gareth said.

  “I wouldn’t bother,” Laura said, smiling. “I think the milk might be a bit ropey. I was thinking we could go to Starbucks or somewhere. My treat.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Gareth replied. “Someone’s spent all the company funds on coffee, so I’m skint.”

  Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in a small coffee shop on St Andrew’s Hill that, according to Dave, had much better coffee than Starbucks and was about half the price. Laura had walked past it hundreds of times and never been inside.

  “So what’s next?” Dave asked as he sipped his latte.

  “I’ve e-mailed the paperwork over to the CPS to get you access to the video. They’re normally pretty quick, and as Annette hasn’t been charged yet, the police clock is ticking.”

  “Dave, you know it’s not going to be very pleasant, watching that video?” Gareth said.

  “I know,” he replied, and Laura caught a fleeting look of concern on his face. “Can’t say I’m looking forward to it, but if it might help Annette, then I’m more than happy.”

  “Good lad,” Gareth said. “When do you think they’ll charge her?”

  “That’ll be up to the CPS, but I expect they’ll want Dave’s findings back first in case that changes anything.” Just as she said this, her phone rang. She excused herself and got to her feet to take the call outside the small coffee shop.

  “Miss Flynn? This is Elizabeth Hyland from the technical support department at Wymondham Police Station.”

  “That was quick,” Laura said. “I only sent the paperwork in about half an hour ago.”

  “You must have caught the CPS on a good day, then.” The woman laughed, and Laura instantly warmed to her. “They’ve signed off all the authorisations for you, so you can come in whenever you want.”

  “Okay, that’s brilliant. I’m with the consultants now so I’ll speak to them. Can I get you on this number?”

  “Sure, that’s my mobile. Or just come in and ask for me.”

  Laura thanked Elizabeth and disconnected the call before returning to the coffee shop. She sat down next to Gareth.

  “That was Wymondham nick,” she said. “We can go in whenever.”

  “We’ve got to go in there?” Dave asked. “I thought they would send us the file?”

  “No chance, Dave,” Laura replied. “You’ll have to look at it on their computers.”

  “But I’ve got some software I need to run?”

  “You can probably install it on their computers, I expect.”

  “It’s not really software I want to install on a police computer,” Dave said, glancing at Gareth. “It’s quite, er, bespoke.”

  “What, illegal?” Laura asked, her eyebrows arched.

  “No, not illegal. I wrote it myself.”

  “They’re not going to steal your software, Dave,” Gareth said. “Just speak to the techies when you get there. I’m sure you can work it out between you.”

  “Dave,” Laura said. “Do you want something to eat before we head over there?” He looked at the me
nu on the table briefly.

  “Not really, Laura,” he replied. “I’m feeling a bit queasy already, to be honest.”

  She leaned forward and put her hand over his.

  “You’ll be fine,” Laura said, squeezing his hand. Dave looked at Gareth with a sheepish expression.

  “You never mentioned this sort of thing at the job interview.”

  69

  “Afternoon, Malcolm,” Gareth said brightly as the policeman walked into the foyer of Wymondham Police Station. “We’re here to see the video that’s supposed to be of Annette.”

  “Gareth, Laura,” Malcolm replied. “Good afternoon. Er, Gareth. I know the CPS have signed your firm off for this, but I’m not happy with you seeing this video when it involves your sister.”

  “Malcolm, it won’t be Gareth doing the viewing,” Laura said, realising she should have included some more information in her e-mail. “Can I introduce you to Dave? He’s Gareth’s technical expert.”

  Gareth stood back to let Dave shake Malcolm’s hand. He was relieved at what Malcolm had just said, but wasn’t about to say anything in front of them.

  “Okay, follow me. Have you been here before, Dave?” Malcolm replied.

  Gareth and Laura followed Malcolm as he led them through the security gates and into the bowels of the police station. Malcolm was talking to Dave as they walked, and although he couldn’t hear what they were saying, it was clear Malcolm was doing his best to reassure the young man.

  “Do you think he’ll be okay?” Gareth whispered to Laura. “Will you be okay?” he added a few seconds later.

  “I’m sure Malcolm will make sure we’re looked after,” she whispered back. “Look at him, he’s gone straight into Dad mode with Dave.”

  “He’s a good bloke,” Gareth replied, looking around at the large open plan office they were walking through, “for a copper.”

  “Can I introduce you both to Elizabeth Hyland?” Malcolm said a few moments later. They were standing outside a glass frosted door with the words ‘Technical Services’ written on the front. Gareth looked at the woman from his position a few steps back from the group as she shook hands with first Laura and then Dave. She was in her late-thirties to early forties, and had a matronly air about her. “She’s in charge of technical services. That’s Gareth Dawson, but he’s not viewing.” Gareth raised a hand in greeting and she walked over to shake his hand.