'I'm confident in my information,' Haines said levelly. 'You approve the operation, we'll catch the bad guys, and I'll get my promotion.' He got up to leave.
'We'll see.' Chief Superintendent Cornish paused and Haines waited in the doorway. 'Don't lose sight of the murders either, Rob. You need a good result on that as well.'
DCI Haines just shook his head and left the office.
* * *
Haines sat down opposite the burly man who was the tactical leader of the armed response teams.
'In short, we've got information on a team who might be moving in. One Pietr Garoza wants to swap Latvia for England. He's our principal target so you might want to read up on him, know what you're up against. Anyway we've run him through the system and although he's using several front companies, we've traced him to the Brookbank Industrial Estate.'
'Where the hell is that?'
'Out to the north of Bradwick. One of the old Victorian harbours. I say industrial estate, but it's run down and mostly derelict. There are few business hanging on but since the growth of Royal Portbury and Avonmouth, it's been pretty much dead.'
'And he's renting there?'
'Yeah, a big warehouse, plenty of space.'
'We'll go up there and have a look around, make a plan.'
'You can do that? We don't want to tip them off. This is good intelligence that we don't want wasted.'
Instead of answering, he pulled out The Field Guide to British Birds and slid it across the desk. 'This is our secret weapon. Me and my second in command get our anoraks, sandwiches and thermos flask then we can go out to wherever we want with this book. Go on, flick through it.' Haines did what he was told and saw that it was well thumbed and had dates and locations written in biro. 'Attention to detail, that's the key. But with this we can wander where we like, use binoculars, make notes and no one even thinks twice.'
Chapter Forty-Eight
Instead of looking for teenagers, DC Angel got a tattered printout from her glove box. This paperwork was her holy grail. It was the reduced list of Ford Fiestas in Bradwick and the immediate surrounding areas. She knew that Haines didn't rate her Dark Car Man theory so she planned to present him with a fait accompli. She would see if she could get eyes on every car on this list. If, or hopefully when, she saw the suspect Fiesta, then she could announce her breakthrough to the MIT. With their full resources she was sure that they could turn a name and address into a conviction.
She plotted a route and set the sat nav for the first target. She edged slowly down the residential street on the Seaview Estate – one of the poorer areas of Bradwick, houses and bungalows thrown up in the fifties when the town was in its heyday as a holiday town. They were cheap and cheerful in their day and were now a bit cheap and rundown if the owners didn't look after them.
With one eye on the sat nav, she drove slowly, looking for the suspect car. She saw it parked in a driveway, ahead on the left. It had the familiar outline that had haunted her dreams since she watched the CCTV from the first killing.
As she got closer, however, she knew she was out of luck. No sticker at all in the back window, just a collection of stick men representing the family members. Worse than that, the wheels were alloys – it was the wrong spec. She sped up and resolved to tick this one off the list next time she stopped.
The next three cars weren't present at their owners' addresses. She had a brainwave that would also let her do what she'd said she would. She started driving around the huge car park of the out of town retail centre, checking for cars.
When she'd ticked one more car off her list, she parked up next to a burger van and bought a takeaway coffee. Sat in her car, she closed her eyes for a second. Was Haines right? Was she barking up the wrong tree? First Gregory Watts was not guilty and now she was beginning to wonder about Dark Car Man.
She sipped her coffee and came to the same conclusion she always had. During office hours she'd be the dutiful officer, following leads and updating the computer. Out of hours, she'd continue her quest for the Dark Car Man and to find evidence against Watts.
In her heart, not her head, she knew that there were two dangerous men in Bradwick. Two men who believed they had a right to own, to control, to terrify women whenever they felt like it. As a woman, DC Angel couldn't let that lie and as a police officer she had the tools to put a stop to it.
She drove back to the station, choosing her route to collect one more car on the way. For the rest of the day, she put actions into the computer, chased up scientific reports and read through the door-to-door results. She left early to go to her self-defence class.
* * *
The lesson ended with some improvised weapon work. She wandered over to the stack of rubber weapons they were training with. As usual the trainer had brought some real weapons along.
Emma's eye fell on a side handle baton. It wasn't something often used in British police forces so she picked it up and turned it over. Holding it in her hands sparked an idea. 'Can I borrow you a moment?'
The trainer came over. 'Sure, what's up?'
'Just stand there for a moment, I want to try something.' She held the long end of the baton with the side arm sticking out. She gently swung it so the short end made contact with her trainer's temple. 'Now you go down.'
'For sure, if you put force behind it, I'd go down like a sack of potatoes. If you hit me hard enough there with that weapon, it might even be fatal.' He lowered himself to the mat. Emma slid her hand up the baton and gripped the short arm in her fist, with the long handle running down her forearm. Now she straddled him and placed her arm, reinforced by the shaft of the baton, across his windpipe.
'Wow! Are they teaching the police how to kill people now?'
'No, but we have to figure out how they're killed.' She released him and stood up, holding out a hand to help him up from the mat.
'You know there's another option.' He reached for the baton which she handed over. He held it near the junction with the long bar running down his arm. 'Much more subtle. If you were walking past someone, you could even put it up your sleeve even though that might be awkward.' He reached his hand up to her face and tapped her on the temple. 'One tap and down.' Obediently Emma collapsed to the floor. 'And then you just spin it around like before and boom!' He then laid his arm across her throat.
Next morning, she brought the borrowed baton into work. 'I think I've figured out how the girls were killed. Ed, can I borrow you for a minute?' There were cheers and mutters from the rest of the CID.
'Wait a minute, we think this is a man killing women. Should it be me attacking you?'
'Yeah, but I think I can explain all the wounds. Don't worry, I'll be gentle!' She smiled. 'Where these are used, the police are trained to use these for defence – disarming people with knives, restraining drunken idiots, that kind of thing. But, one sharp tap on the side of the head here,' she tapped DC Mitchell with the stick, 'would bring someone down. Then, when they're on the floor, you just have it along the side of the arm and strangle them.'
There were nods around the room. 'That explains it. And it'd be really quick too. One blow to the head and then you're strangling them. Nice work.' Haines was nodding as he spoke. 'It fits all the injuries. That blow to the temple could kill – it would certainly stun. It's very organised and calculating as well. No blood everywhere like a stabbing, no gunshots. Quick, quiet and efficient.'
'But,' Ed Mitchell said, 'they'd have to be prepared. It's not like he's just finding a rock to bash their head in with.'
'That's true. But it's going to leave very little forensic trace.' Haines had taken the baton from DC Angel. 'Nice smooth surface, you could tuck it inside a coat or up a sleeve.'
Once all the excitement had died down, Angel added a note to the board to say that they were now looking for a side handle baton. After that, DC Angel stayed true to her day job. She now had two areas to focus on – both collating the information on the attacks and now planning the big raid for tomorrow evening.
>
Chapter Forty-Nine
DC Angel was exhausted. She'd put in the hours checking the data on the three attacks, while still doing the basic administration of co-ordinating the many teams who'd need to come together for the operation tomorrow. Nothing was said, but everyone knew that it would be a matter of days before the chief super brought in someone from outside to check the investigation into the two murders and then take over. If that happened, the whole team would feel like schoolchildren who had failed a test and had to be helped out by the teacher. It would be an awful way to start a new era with DI Hargreaves in charge.
She should have gone straight home, sunk a couple of beers, had a bath and been ready to go back to it in the morning. However, as had been her habit, she pulled a familiar tatty sheaf of paper out of her glove box. When she was feeling down, she wondered if the killer had touched up the scratches and removed the sticker. Then she realised that she couldn't think like that. This was their last throw of the dice.
She scanned down the list to the next one that hadn't been crossed off yet and tapped in the address to the sat nav. Her eyebrows raised – a nice area, just off Spalley Road. Still, she'd either do all of them, or none at all. She relaxed when it added less than ten minutes to her journey time.
When she got close to the house however, she felt a flutter of apprehension. This was the best part of Bradwick, no question. On a rise above the town, the houses were positioned to give a sea view without being close to the amusement arcades and boarding houses on the front. But this did raise a problem. The roads were wide avenues and the big houses were all detached, behind walls and fences. Hardly any cars were parked on the road and several of the houses had high gates. DC Angel doubted that she'd have much chance of seeing the car unless it was on a driveway.
She drove slowly past her target before stopping at the kerb, just beyond the entrance. She'd already clocked that the lights were out and there were no cars visible. She was about to leave when she noticed that it had a large detached garage. It was visible and accessible from the road, but she knew she was stretching the definition of what was reasonable for a search without a warrant. On the other hand, they were running out of time and she had to be thorough. If she didn't check this one out, she knew she wouldn't sleep at nights if the investigation failed.
She shook her head and got out of the car. Feeling edgy, she stepped from the street onto private property. The garage had a traditional wooden door with a line of small square windows near the top. Frustratingly, she was too short to see through them. Luckily, it had one side window, and as she peered through the grime, she saw that it did contain a dark blue Fiesta. Five door, she thought, going through a mental check list. She wiped some grime away to get a view of the wheel arch and then her heart skipped a beat. There were the white scratches – three parallel white lines, in the just the right place.
One out of three.
She went up on tiptoe and tried to see down to the wheel. Fishing out her phone she switched the torch on to look at the wheel trim. It was cracked in just the right place.
Two out of three.
She had spent so long going over the photographs that she knew she was looking at the same car. But she owed it to herself and the investigation to be sure. She walked around to the front of the garage, trying to make sense of it all. A car connected to the killings in the most expensive area of Bradwick?
No matter how she stretched, she was unable to see through the front windows. She knew she could walk away, but without the third, corroborating piece of evidence, she wouldn't be certain. She was still holding her phone, the torch switched off, and that gave her an idea. She held her phone above her head and took a photo down through the window into the garage without being able to see the screen.
At her third attempt, she got something usable. There was a yellow dealer sticker in the rear window. More than that, it had the corner missing. In those sleepless nights going over the stills from the CCTV she had memorised this too. The corner wasn't missing straight across, it had ripped in a curve, like a ski slope. And this car had exactly the same sticker.
Three out of three.
Regardless of the number plates, this was the car that had been seen near every crime scene, just before and after every attack. This was Dark Car Man's vehicle. Was she standing in the driveway of a man who'd been terrorising and killing the women of Bradwick?
She was in a grey area with gathering the evidence so she briskly walked down the drive and back to her car. She couldn't use what she'd found tonight in any way. But she knew that when she brought it to the team tomorrow, the owner would go straight to the top of their list. Somehow, they'd find a way to make it an official part of the enquiry.
No sooner had she got back to the car than a Jaguar swept past her and into the drive. Nervously, she watched in her mirror as it parked up outside the house. She experienced momentary relief when the occupant ignored her car but went straight to the front door.
She picked up her list and tracked her finger across to see whose car she had been looking at. She frowned. M Patterson. Why did that name ring a bell? Could it be connected with Reg Patterson, her boss's mentor?
She checked her mirror but was just in time to see the front door close with no idea who'd just gone into the house.
DC Angel was now very aware of how deserted the street was. She also knew that Reg Patterson was an ex-police officer and she had just carried out an illegal search on someone possibly connected to him. And which might link him or a member of his family to a series of murders.
As much as she hated the idea, she knew she couldn't tackle this one alone. She had to do two things – first get away from the scene, and secondly ask for help. And there was only one person to ask – his protege, DCI Rob Haines.
Chapter Fifty
DC Angel parked up as soon as she was able to find a space. This time, she parked in a lay-by outside a row of shops. Nice and anonymous, she thought, still worried that she might have been seen.
She phoned Haines and was relieved that he actually answered his mobile – he hadn't taken the battery out for a secret meeting. She didn't want to get into this on the phone so she simply asked to meet and promised a break in the case.
He surprised her by telling her to go to his house. With the big raid tomorrow and no breaks in the case he'd decided to take today a bit easier. When she pulled up outside his house, he came out to meet her. Initially it was odd to see him in shirt sleeves but only for a second. She was the one who had disturbed his evening. He slid into the passenger seat of her car, his bulk making her car seem small.
'Where to, boss?'
'Nowhere, yet. Tell me what you've got and I'll see if it's worth my time.'
Briefly she recapped what she'd learned from her evening with the teenagers and their cars. Then she passed him her list of cars and showed where she'd been ticking them off.
'You did all this on your own? If you knew you had this lead, why didn't you bring it to me? I could've allocated some uniforms out. We'd have got here much earlier.'
'Sorry, boss, but I did mention the Dark Car Man theory to you. I got the impression you thought it was going nowhere, so I kept at it on my own. Don't worry, none of this was on the books, I haven't claimed overtime for it.'
Haines went quiet. He couldn't have his officers running around freelancing. If nothing else, that was how things got missed and officers got into danger. On the other hand, he was sure she had mentioned something about this theory, but not how far she'd gone into it. 'Right, we'll deal with all that later,' he said. 'What I want to know is how solid is what you've got now.'
She passed over her phone, already on the photo of the back of the car. 'This one was on my list, but it was in a garage accessible from the road. I took this photo; the sticker is exactly the same. And I looked in through a side window – the wheel trim and scratches match too.'
Haines tracked his finger down the list. 'This is far more serious than I thought
. That is Reg's address but this says M Patterson so that'd be his wife. But she died a while back; cancer, nasty business.' He paused momentarily. 'Are you sure about this DC Angel? I mean, like one hundred per cent, no shadow of a doubt, sure? Because we can't just go barging into a retired senior officer's house and accuse him of being a murderer. Or even worse, connect it to his wife when she hasn't even been dead for a year. He deserves more respect.'
DC Angel considered the question. 'For days now I've lived with Ford Fiestas. I've studied the CCTV photos and gone over the list to reduce it down.' She missed the scowling look from Haines as she admitted to going alone. 'I've driven past so many cars without stickers or with the wrong wheels. That one car in that garage is a three for three. I haven't seen any other car with even one feature that's a perfect match.' She paused again. 'I know I can't just barge in there. I am aware of your relationship. That's why I called you, sir.' DCI Haines shook his head so she pressed on. 'It doesn't have to be him. The car's registered in his wife's name. He might have a nephew or family friend who borrows the vehicle. He might have lost track of the keys. He might have an alibi. But it is a lead that we need to follow.'
There was an awkward pause in the car. DCI Haines looked up at his house. It was a lovely summer evening. She could feel him deciding if he should leave his family and confront his mentor, his former boss. 'All right. But I know Reg. You let me do the talking and you follow my lead.'
'Yes, boss.'
'I mean it about the talking. You keep quiet and have a good look at that car. If we get the chance.'
DC Angel knew she'd pushed her luck as far as she could and kept quiet. They drove in silence back round to what she now knew was Patterson's house. It was a large detached house set well back in manicured gardens. A large silver Jaguar was parked on the drive and there was the garage where DC Angel had seen the Fiesta.
The Retirement Party Page 23