by Caz Finlay
‘Are you flirting with me?’ Jake asked.
‘I hope so,’ Danny whispered.
‘Well, you’re fucking shit at it, you know that, right?’
Danny was about to speak, but before he could, Jake kissed him, pushing his tongue into Danny’s mouth and pulling him closer, until their bodies were pressed together.
‘Anything?’ Jake whispered when they came up for air.
‘Anything,’ Danny breathed.
Danny Alexander blinked in the bright sunlight as he woke. Stretching his arms above his head he was aware of a dull ache in his muscles and smiled as he remembered the cause. He turned and saw Jake Conlon lying next to him, his lower half covered by the expensive cotton sheets but his magnificent torso on full display. Danny looked at him as he lay there, all abs and tattoos, and he felt a familiar stirring in his groin. Jake Conlon wouldn’t look out of place advertising the latest expensive aftershave on a fifty-foot billboard and here was Danny lying in bed beside him after the most incredible night of his life.
Danny had never experienced anything like what he was feeling right now, and as he looked at Jake he wondered what the hell he had let himself in for. The truth was he’d been having feelings for Jake for a while but he’d tried to bury them – for many reasons, including the facts that Jake was his boss, he went through men even quicker than Danny did women, and Danny was straight. At least he’d thought he was. He’d never so much as kissed a man before. Sure, he’d admired them from afar at times, but that was just an appreciation of the male form, wasn’t it? Nothing like this. What happened with Jake had completely blown his mind.
Jake stirred and opened one eye. ‘What time is it?’ he asked gruffly.
Danny glanced at the digital clock beside the bed. ‘Half past eleven.’
‘Fucking hell! I haven’t slept that well in about a year,’ Jake said as he rubbed his eyes.
‘Really?’ Danny asked in surprise. They’d gone to bed around 3 a.m. but hadn’t fallen asleep until six.
‘Yeah,’ Jake replied before rolling over and onto Danny, pinning him to the mattress with the weight of his muscular body. ‘You got anything to do today?’ he asked.
Danny shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. Unless there’s something you need me to do?’ he replied, wondering whether he was about to be unceremoniously dismissed. He knew that most of Jake’s conquests didn’t even make it to the next morning, and certainly weren’t invited to stay for breakfast. Maybe Jake had some business for him to take care of today? He was still technically his boss after all.
‘There is something actually,’ Jake growled. ‘I need you to stay here for the rest of the day and let me fuck you senseless.’
Danny swallowed as he looked into Jake’s bright blue eyes. He felt his whole abdomen area contract involuntarily. This man was going to turn his whole world upside down, but at that exact moment, Danny didn’t care. ‘Sounds good to me,’ he answered with a smile.
Jake glanced at his watch and saw it was after five, before picking up his belt from the floor. He smiled as he remembered discarding it the previous night. As he looped it through the waistband of his trousers, Danny walked out of the en-suite, freshly showered and with a towel wrapped around his waist. Jake looked at him appreciatively and contemplated whether they had any time to spare. They had stayed in bed for most of the day and would still be there if Jake wasn’t needed at the club.
Jake turned away as Danny started to get dressed. If he didn’t, he wasn’t sure they would make it out of the apartment. To say he’d been shocked by how last night had panned out would be an understatement. If he thought about it, he’d had probably had some suspicion that Danny was interested in him, but he’d dismissed it, worried that his intuition was off. The men he usually fucked about with practically threw themselves at him and he’d never had to make an effort to determine their sexuality. His skills in that department were sadly lacking. Paul Carter had always had a finely tuned gaydar and Jake had always envied him that. Jake felt a pang of guilt as he thought about Paul. It had been a year since his death and Jake still thought about him every day. No one had ever been able to get to him the way Paul had. He looked up again at Danny, who was pulling on his shirt, and swallowed. No one until now.
Chapter Thirty-Six
DI Moss walked away from the crime scene with her DS, Mark Whitney, following close behind.
‘Good news, Ma’am?’ he said.
She frowned at him. ‘A woman is dead, Mark.’
‘Sorry, Boss,’ he said apologetically. ‘I meant no disrespect to young Anna. But it looks like our killer has fucked up this time. We’re going to nail this bastard soon. I can feel it.’
Leigh nodded absent-mindedly, but she didn’t share Mark’s enthusiasm. Something just wasn’t right. They would still need the forensics results to confirm, but it seemed like the perpetrator had left vital clues on Anna’s body.
‘Why has he fucked up this time though, Mark? It doesn’t make sense.’
He shrugged. ‘Maybe he got too cocky? Maybe he was disturbed? There are lots of reasons.’
‘But it’s just so sloppy, and it doesn’t fit with what we know about him so far. Up until now, he has been meticulous. So meticulous that we’ve been wondering if he has forensic knowledge of a crime scene. And now he just happens to leave footprints, a weapon and semen-stained underwear behind? It’s all a little convenient, isn’t it?’
‘Let’s see what the forensics come back with,’ Mark suggested as they reached Leigh’s car.
‘Yes. Let’s.’
Leigh was in her office poring over forensics reports when Chief Superintendent Barrow walked into the room. He had a huge grin on his face.
‘Well done, Leigh. You got the bastard,’ he said. ‘The Chief Con is over the bloody moon!’
‘Thank you, Sir,’ she said as she stood up and felt her cheeks flush pink. She and DS Whitney had arrested Stuart Halligan earlier that morning after the forensics had confirmed his fingerprints were on the knife found at the scene. And whilst that hadn’t been the murder weapon, it had been used to slice wounds into the victim’s skin a few hours prior to her death. If that wasn’t enough, his DNA was also found in the victim’s underwear. Leigh didn’t mention that she felt the whole thing was a little too easy, and that her gut still told her that Stuart Halligan was not the perpetrator. He was barely five foot four for a start, with small feminine hands. It took considerable strength and pressure to strangle someone to death, and she wasn’t sure Stuart had it in him. Then there was the underwear. Anna was a size 8-10, but the underwear she was wearing was a size 6. It not only had her DNA in, but that of one of the other victims, Nerys Sheehan, who had been a size 6. Why was Anna wearing Nerys’s underwear, and soiled underwear at that?
Chief Superintendent Barrow crossed the room and put an arm around Leigh’s shoulder. ‘You did good,’ he said as he gave her a squeeze.
She smiled awkwardly. Barrow didn’t usually go in for hugs or praise, but she supposed the Liverpool Ripper case was one of the most high-profile and notorious cases they had ever worked on, and she had no doubt her superiors had been under considerable pressure from the Police Crime Commissioner and the public to bring the killer to justice.
‘It’s not over yet, Sir,’ she said. ‘He’s denying everything.’
‘Well, he’s hardly likely to admit to anything, is he?’ Barrow scoffed. ‘But the forensic evidence is undeniable. He’s bang to rights, and sooner or later that legal aid brief of his is going to convince him to plead. If he drags this through a trial…’ He sucked in air through his teeth. ‘Who’s interviewing him?’
‘DS Whitney, Sir. But Halligan is sleeping now. PACE rules and all that?’ she said with a shrug.
‘I’m sure you’ll have it all sewn up in no time, a smart girl like you,’ he said.
Leigh bristled at the term ‘girl’ and the patronising tone, but wondered if she had overreacted. She was on edge. This whole case was dri
ving her crazy. She was missing something big and she knew it.
Just as she thought he was about to leave, Barrow perched himself on the edge of her desk.
‘You used to run the OCG task force?’ Barrow asked.
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Any particular reason you left?’
Leigh took a second to regulate her breathing as her heart started to pound in her chest. Why the hell was he asking her this? He knew the reason why. He’d rubber-stamped her transfer.
‘Like I said in my transfer request, Sir, I didn’t want to work there any longer after what happened to DS Bryce.’
‘You were worried for your own safety?’ he asked with a raised eyebrow. ‘Because you don’t seem the type, Leigh.’
‘Not so much that, Sir. But DS Bryce and I were good friends. There was a sense that we could become more than that and I felt it was better to move on before anything developed.’
‘It wasn’t because of what happened to him then? It was because you and he were in a relationship? So you lied?’
Leigh shook her head as she felt the flush creep up her neck. Shit! ‘No, Sir. What happened to him made me realise that I had feelings for him and I thought it was best to make a fresh start elsewhere.’
He seemed satisfied with her response. ‘Are the two of you still in a relationship?’
‘No, Sir. It didn’t pan out.’
‘So there’s nothing stopping you going back to the OCG task force if you wanted to?’
She frowned at him. ‘Aren’t you happy with the work I’m doing here?’
He started to laugh, his eyes crinkling at the sides. ‘Yes. Very. But you seemed to have a –’ he paused as though searching for the right word ‘– determination that your successor is lacking.’
‘Oh. Well, I enjoyed my time there, but I understand DI King is doing well, Sir.’
He leaned in closer to her. ‘Not as well as you though, eh? I mean you had Conlon and Carter in the nick within a few months of you taking over the team.’
‘But they walked,’ she reminded him.
He shrugged. ‘No one else has been able to manage it though, have they?’
‘What’s this about, Sir?’ she asked him, sensing there was something he wasn’t telling her.
‘I want Liverpool to be a safer city, Leigh. And to do that I want Grace Carter and all her little minions put away for a very long time.’
Leigh was taken aback. This was the first she’d heard of the Chief Super’s mission to tackle the Carters. In fact, when she had been DI of the OCG task force, there were rumours that the Chief Super liked Grace in charge as it kept the rest of the factions in line. Clearly those rumours were unfounded – or something had happened to change his mind.
‘If you think you’re up to the task, then just say the word. I’ll even give you extra resources. We have that violence reduction money to spend and I can argue the case for it to be spent on your task force if you make Grace and Michael Carter your priority.’
‘But they haven’t come to police attention for years. You know as well as I do that they don’t get their hands dirty any more, Sir. Respectable business people, according to anyone you’d care to ask.’
‘Well, I’m sure a smart girl like you could find something on them,’ he said with a wink. ‘It might keep Grace Carter from sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong,’ he added quietly, almost as an afterthought.
‘Pardon, Sir?’ Leigh asked as she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
‘Just let me know if you think you’re up to the job, Leigh,’ he said as he stood up and walked out of her office.
Leigh’s legs felt weak and her head began to spin. What the hell had that been about? And what had he meant about Grace sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong? Did he know about her helping out with the case? And if so, how? And why hadn’t he bollocked her for it? It was gross misconduct, pure and simple.
Leigh swallowed as all of the pieces of the puzzle that had been scattered in the wind started to slowly fall into place. And the picture that was forming made her want to gouge her own eyes out. It was unthinkable, but it all made sense somehow.
She stood on shaky legs and made her way across the office, down the stairwell and to her car. Only once she was inside did she take her phone out of her pocket and dial Grace’s number.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Grace watched as Leigh Moss walked into her office in Sophia’s Kitchen and took a seat opposite. It had been less than thirty minutes since she’d phoned in something of a panic. Grace had been about to head home but had agreed to stay behind to discuss whatever it was that Leigh seemed so agitated about.
‘I heard you arrested Stuart Halligan this morning,’ Grace said. ‘So it was him after all? Who’d have thought it?’
Leigh frowned. ‘That information isn’t public yet…’ she started to say and then she shook her head. ‘Of course, you’re not exactly the public, are you? Did Webster tell you?’
‘No,’ Grace replied with a smile.
Leigh flinched. ‘I don’t suppose you’d tell me who did?’
‘Of course not. Why would you even ask?’
‘It might be important,’ Leigh said but Grace wasn’t going to provide the name of her contact. Leigh stared at her for a few seconds before sitting back in her chair. ‘I don’t know who to trust any more, Grace,’ she said with a sigh.
‘You can trust me. You know that already,’ Grace offered. ‘Despite our differences, I have always kept my word.’
‘I still don’t think it was Halligan,’ Leigh blurted out.
‘I was told it was an open-and shut-case. Irrefutable DNA evidence?’
‘God, you really do do your homework, don’t you?’ Leigh said with a look that Grace could only describe as admiration.
Grace held her hands up. ‘What can I say? I’m thorough.’
‘The thing is, DNA is conclusive evidence. Stuart Halligan definitely used the knife we found at the crime scene at some point, even his own blood was on it, and his semen was found in the underwear the victim was wearing, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t planted.’
‘You think he was set up?’ Grace sat forward in her seat.
‘I told you, Stuart was shorter than I am. Really thin with small hands too. Do you honestly think he’d have the strength to strangle a woman to death?’
‘Perhaps he had an accomplice? Don’t forget Parnell could still be linked to this.’
‘I haven’t discounted Parnell. And it’s possible he and Stuart worked together, but there’s no connection between them that I’m aware of. And this crime scene was completely different to the others. The first three were professional – impeccable, not a trace of evidence anywhere—’
‘Except for the tooth?’ Grace reminded her.
‘Yes, except for that, but I believe the killer wasn’t aware that Nerys had it on her person. That’s why he never took it with him.’
‘Okay.’
‘This recent crime scene was either the work of a complete amateur—’
‘Or someone who wanted the evidence to be found?’ Grace interjected.
‘Exactly.’
‘What about the underwear though? How did Stuart’s semen end up on the victim’s underwear?’
‘I think it was Nerys’s underwear. It was her size. Perhaps she and Stuart occasionally had sex.’
‘So the killer is still out there and they have somehow framed Stuart? But why him?’
‘Think about it. He’s perfect. The weird kid from the children’s home who most of the other boys bullied, but who befriended some of the girls and used to sit in the attic listening to jazz records with them? Then Nerys reveals, quite probably under torture, that she and he have a child together and he becomes the perfect patsy. All it takes to establish motive is for the prosecution to produce some witnesses to tell the jury how he was rejected by some of the girls, which we know to be true. Then this becomes all about his reve
nge.’
‘So do you think you’re any closer to finding the real killer then?’
Leigh visibly blanched at this and Grace frowned. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s almost too awful to contemplate,’ she said.
‘Well, tell me anyway.’
Grace sat back in her chair as she digested the information Leigh had just given her. It was a hell of a leap, but the way Leigh laid it out, it all made sense. It would certainly explain why the killer was able to leave such a clean crime scene.
‘So it could be Parnell then?’ Grace said. ‘We’d wondered how he was able to pull this off, but if he’s working for who you think he is, then he wouldn’t need to use his brains.’
Leigh nodded. ‘So, we have two suspects, but one huge problem. How the hell do we prove any of it?’
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jake and Connor were walking down the Dock Road towards Jake’s car when the white transit van pulled up alongside them. The door slid open and six masked men jumped out armed with baseball bats and tried to force them into the van. Jake threw a punch at one of them and it connected with bone, but before he could throw another, a second man was on his back with a baseball bat across his throat. ‘Just get in the fucking van, you prick. Or I’ll snap your neck.’
Jake bristled. He looked across at Connor, who was in a similar position, and realised that fighting back at this point was futile and would expend too much valuable energy. He and Connor were boxers and trained with some of the best street fighters in the North West; they could take on most men one on one, or even two on one. But three to one was a bit of an ask. Jake tried to shrug the man off his back, but he held the bat firmly in place.
‘All right. I’m getting in,’ he snarled as he allowed himself to be frogmarched into the back of the van. Connor was mumbling obscenities beside him, but he too stopped resisting and stepped into the vehicle. As the door to the van was being pulled closed, Jake saw Luke and Danny opening the door of the café they’d only just left themselves, and when he caught their eye, he breathed a sigh of relief.