‘Pretty sure. He’s older than in this photo, greyer …’
Bronski got out the other two photos, the one from the cellphone and the one from the security camera and passed them over.
Cunningham studied them again. ‘I can’t tell from this one, with the hat on, but I would swear this side-shot is Father Loftus.’ Then the officer looked alarmed. ‘The hospital said he was the new priest, I never thought to get him checked out, and he was there so often, what’s going on? Who is he?’
‘Thanks Cunningham, I haven’t got time to explain. I’ll get back to you. That’s all for now.’
As soon as the officer was out of the room, Bronski turned to Ellison.
‘Get Macpherson on her cellphone. I’ll call the hospital, and then you and I need to get down there.’
74
Not wanting to disturb Angela, Annie eased the door open quietly. Of course, she knew the noise made no difference to a woman in a coma, but it was a sign of respect, nonetheless. For a heavy door, it opened easily.
Stepping silently into the room, it was the voice she processed first: a low, guttural chanting and the words: ‘Bitch, bitch, bitch …’ A man was standing with his back to her. There was no white coat, no stethoscope. His broad shoulders were blocking any view of what his hands were doing, but his words were chilling enough.
‘Stop, police!’ Annie shouted.
Startled, the man turned towards her. The white of the clerical collar surprised Annie – a priest? Her eyes widened: something else was familiar about him.
John Hardman was standing a few feet away and he was smiling.
‘Stay right where you are,’ she demanded in a firm voice, heart pounding. She had no weapon, no police baton, only her training and experience. Annie desperately wanted to check Angela Goodman. What had Hardman been doing when she walked in? But she couldn’t divert her attention from him, both for her sake and for Angela’s. Hardman clenched his fists, smiling again.
His silence was eerie.
Then, as Hardman moved towards her, Annie countered, running towards him at full force, turning her shoulder at the last second, using this momentum to knock him backwards across the chair. While he was off balance, Annie tried desperately to check Angela.
Hardman scrambled back to his feet before she could finish.
Annie took a step back, trying to put some distance between them. The room seemed to be shrinking rapidly as Hardman loomed over her. Annie realised how frightening he must have been all those years ago. No wonder Angela had been unable to report his actions. She sensed his menace, and her mind raced to come up with a plan, but it was too late for that. Hardman’s fist smashed into her face and pain shot through her head. The room whirled around her as she fell sideways, sliding down and hitting her back against the end of the bed. Warm blood gushed from her split lip, dribbling down on to her neck and chest.
Hardman stepped forward again, grabbing her by the throat. Rage distorted his features and Annie could feel his hot stale breath on her, as he leaned forward applying more and more pressure. The stabbing pain in her back should have been excruciating but the iron fingers at her throat made it seem like a distant pinprick. Air rasped in her throat as she tried to take a breath. Her strength was starting to ebb as she scrabbled at his hands trying to prise his fingers from her neck.
Images of Hardman’s attack on Angela and the damage he had done to her sharpened Annie’s resolve to fight. He smiled again as he moved his elbows a matter of inches, just enough to block the use of her arms. Although his upper body was splayed across her, that slight movement created a gap between their bodies. Annie knew there was a chance here. She let both her feet slip, causing Hardman’s weight to fall further forward on to her, but in that same second she raised her knee, thrusting it between his legs with as much force as she could muster.
The gripping hands loosened for a split second and Hardman’s contorted face told Annie she’d made contact. That brief hiatus was just enough for her to push him off and break away from his sickening grip. Gasping for air, she slipped off the bed around to the other side. Still choking, she fumbled frantically for the emergency call button.
Hardman bent over in pain, rage in his eyes. ‘Bitch, you’ll regret this.’ He started to skirt the bed for a further attack as Annie pressed the alarm button.
Hardman hesitated at the warning sound, spun round and headed for the door.
Annie stood up slowly, trying to steady her breathing. Her split lip was bleeding heavily, but she was more concerned about Angela Goodman. Checking the comatose woman again, she ensured that she hadn’t dislodged anything when she’d fallen on the bed.
In the next second, the door swung open and two nurses and a doctor rushed in with the crash cart.
Shouting ‘Police!’ Annie struggled past them through the open door.
Hardman had a good lead and was half way down the corridor. Annie suddenly felt sick and couldn’t stop herself doubling over until the sensation passed. Breathing deeply, she forced air into her lungs. As her quarry approached the lift, the door opened.
Charlie stepped out, a matter of feet away from Hardman.
Annie could see another chance here but realised that Charlie hadn’t spotted her or recognised the priest. Blood still dripping from her face, she screamed at him down the corridor. ‘Charlie, it’s Hardman!’
Hardman heard the shout and swerved. Charlie sidestepped and tackled him, bringing him down hard, as only an American footballer could. Winded, Hardman tried vainly to twist his way out of Charlie’s grip but the soldier wouldn’t let go and used his whole weight to hold the man down.
In the next second, Annie realised there was someone else a few steps away from the two men. Jackie Winters stood there stunned. She must have followed Charlie out of the lift.
‘Jackie, get help!’ Annie shouted. ‘Call security!’
Jackie Winters glanced at Annie for a second and then ran up to Charlie and Hardman.
‘No!’ Annie shouted, ‘get help!’
To Annie’s amazement, Jackie Winters completely ignored her warning. Instead, she jumped on Charlie, hammering his head with her fists, and screaming at him to let go. More surprised than hurt, he momentarily loosened his hold. Jackie heaved him off Hardman who then rolled away from his attacker. Jackie helped Hardman up, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the stairway.
Annie reached them a few seconds later, just as the stairway door opened and a cleaning supervisor stood blocking the entrance with clipboard in hand. The woman was puzzled, unable to make out what was happening.
Annie barked at the woman. ‘Police, call Security!’
Hardman desperately tried to push past the woman but she was blocking the stairway door and seemed frozen to the spot. Charlie was now on his feet and tackled Hardman again, within inches of the woman, who started screaming. Just as it looked as if Jackie was going to wade in again, Annie approached from behind: encircling her neck with her right arm, using her knee to force Jackie to bend her legs. Avoiding Jackie’s flailing arms and talon like nails, Annie gritted her teeth and with the last of her strength, forced the woman to the ground.
As Charlie wrestled Hardman to the floor, the supervisor finally had the presence of mind to sound her personal attack alarm, sending a signal to security. Annie was shouting further instructions to her as the lift doors opened again, disgorging Bronski and Ellison.
75
An hour had passed since the two were arrested. Annie was in the ER waiting for the all clear to leave. The staff had insisted that she lie down for a few minutes before being discharged. She’d had to have two stitches in her lip, and bruises were appearing around her eye. The curtains parted and Charlie stood there.
‘Sorry, I must look a sight.’
‘You look beautiful
.’
‘Don’t make me smile, these stitches are pulling.’
He walked over to the bed and gave her a hug, kissing her forehead. ‘You saved Angie’s life.’
‘What have the doctors said? Has any further damage been done?’
‘Thank God, no; all her vitals remain the same. He was trying to kill her.’
‘I know.’
‘It really makes me shudder. He’s been visiting her most days, supposedly as Father Loftus. The nurses are really shocked. They never questioned him. Nor did any of the cops.’
‘A real master of disguise, hey?’
‘But Jackie? Do you know what’s happening? I don’t understand what’s going on, why was she trying to set Hardman free?’
‘We should know soon enough. Both have been arrested. Bronski should be interviewing him now and she’s at the station too. I’m going down as soon as they discharge me.’
‘I’ll take you. I’ll just see Angie first.’
‘You should be home resting, Detective.’ The desk sergeant had alerted Franconi that Annie was on her way up and he was waiting to greet her. The whole station knew that she’d saved Angela Goodman’s life and her quick actions ensured that Hardman and Jackie Winters had been arrested.
‘I know sir, but I can’t rest.’
Franconi grinned. ‘No, I don’t suppose you can. Just watch those painkillers wearing off.’
‘I will, sir. So where are things up to?’ Annie took a seat at her desk. Suddenly, she felt incredibly tired.
‘Bronski and Ellison are interviewing Hardman at the moment. We’ve got a search warrant for his property. Bronski kind of thought you might want to be in on that.’
‘Thanks, sir. What about Jackie Winters?’
‘She’s in a cell at the moment, a bit tight lipped. She can wait till Hardman is finished. We still don’t know what she’s got to do with all this. Listen, while you’re waiting, I was just about to call Detective Malin. He left Bronski a message. Perhaps you want to give him a call?’
‘Sure, sir.’ Annie took the proffered message, wondering if her voice would sound funny over the phone, given the state of her lip.
Malin answered on the first ring.
‘How’s it going Detective? What’s with your voice?’
‘I’ve got stitches in my lip after I was in a scuffle with John Hardman a few hours ago.’
‘What? He’s there; you’ve arrested him? Are you OK?’
Annie nearly smiled but caught herself. ‘Thanks for asking sir. I have looked better; a cut lip and by morning a black eye, I suspect. I found him in Angela Goodman’s hospital room trying to finish what he’d started.’ She heard the audible groan from Malin, and knew she had to continue to the better news. ‘The doctors say she is stable again, still in a coma, but no worse for the attack. I’m just pleased I got in there when I did.’ Now Annie had to hesitate. The painkillers were starting to wear off and her lip was throbbing.
‘So, how did he get in there? No cop on the door?’
‘We were just about to start the roster again. Apparently, he’s been coming in to see her most days since the attack.’ Again there was the audible groan. ‘He’s a master of disguise. Here, he’s been Father Loftus, Catholic priest, giving her blessings, saying the rosary. The nurses and even the cops on duty were completely taken in. He fooled everyone.’
‘Clever, guy. So that’s at least three identities: John Hardman, Jason Craven and now Father Loftus. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are more. That’s what my call was about. We’ve had firm confirmation from the car rental place and from Connie Lombardi, the girlfriend, that Jason Craven is Hardman. They’ve seen the photo that Detective Ellison got through to me earlier on. Obviously he’s aged. Connie Lombardi knew nothing of any military service. I think she’s had a lucky escape from him. So, is he being interviewed?’
‘He is, by Detectives Bronski and Ellison. I missed out, being in the ER.’
As she said it, Annie realised how disappointed she was. After what she’d been through, not to have the chance to be in that interview room herself. She decided she would insist on being there to interview Jackie Winters.
‘Must be frustrating for you. Any idea how they’re getting along? I’ll need to interview him myself about Carol Wojinski.’
‘I’ll get Bronski to liaise with you as soon as I see him. John Hardman is not going anywhere for a while. Initially, I suspect, he’ll be charged with the attempted murder of Angela Goodman and for the assault on me, so there’s plenty to hold him.’
As Annie put the phone down, she put her head in her hands, fighting off a wave of nausea. A few seconds later, Franconi reappeared.
‘You OK?’
‘Not too bad sir, feeling a bit sick; must be the pills. I’ll be OK in a minute. I’ve just been talking to Detective Malin. He wants to interview Hardman about the death of Carol Wojinski.’
Franconi nodded. ‘Bronski will sort that out with him. The search warrant has come through for Hardman’s apartment.’ He handed the document to her. Annie checked the listing of search items as Franconi stood by her desk. Annie nodded. ‘We’ve got a lot of scope here. Let’s just hope there’s something there.’
A half hour later, Annie heard Bronski and Ellison before they appeared at the door. The looks on their faces gave it away.
‘He’s not saying anything, still sticking by the Father Loftus story, saying you completely misinterpreted what you saw. He says he was just trying to reposition her pillows to get her comfortable. You attacked him etc.’
‘Oh, sure.’
‘So, we need something from the search and something to tie him to the other identities.’ By now, Dave Ellison was back at his computer. Bronski was staring intently at Annie.
‘Are you OK? That lip looks pretty sore.’
‘I’m fine, just frustrated to have missed out on the interview. Franconi asked me to return a call to Detective Malin while you were with Hardman.’
‘Oh?’ Bronski looked over at Dave Ellison, who nodded for Annie to continue.
Annie summarised her conversation with Malin. ‘Oh and another piece of good news. Franconi gave me the search warrant. It gives us a lot of scope. Should we go there now?’ Annie proffered the piece of paper.
‘No time like the present, as they say. Let’s go.’ Bronski pulled his jacket off the back of his chair. ‘You coming Detective Ellison?’
‘Yeah, wouldn’t miss it.’
76
‘Take a look at this, sir.’ Annie had opened the desk drawer in the small study. There, in a metal box were two passports, one in the name of John Hardman and the other in the name of June Hardman. ‘Who does this look like?’
Bronski took the two passports. The first was definitely the man claiming to be Father Loftus, whom they’d already identified from the army photograph as John Hardman. As Bronski opened the second one, his reaction was immediate. ‘Jackie Winters. That explains a lot. But who is she, his wife?’
‘Could be, but my guess is his sister. Look at the dates of birth. There’s a good fifteen years between them.’
Just before they placed the two passports in evidence bags, Ellison came into the room. He was carrying a sports bag. Annie showed him the passports.
‘Well, well, John Hardman and Jackie Winters, who is really June Hardman. So how is Father Loftus going to explain this away? Think maybe he had a conversion in prison and took his vows and changed his name?’
Bronski smiled at the sarcasm. ‘Somehow, I don’t think so. What have you got there in the sports bag?’
Ellison dropped the bag on the floor and opened it. Reaching in with his gloved hand, he retrieved two credit cards. He held one in each hand so his colleagues could read the name on the cards: ‘James Moorcroft’.
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Macpherson looked at them thoughtfully. ‘I distinctly remember Jackie Winters saying nothing was missing, even when she looked in his wallet which was still in his trouser pocket. Was she lying to us?’
‘Who knows, but you might also recognise this.’ Next he opened the bag wider so they could both see a length of rope, which had clearly been cut at one end, together with a knife.
Annie and Bronski looked at one another, before Annie expressed what they were both thinking. ‘Looks identical to the one used to stage the Moorcroft suicide, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Right we need a whole team in here. There’s enough evidence already to tear this place apart.’
‘One more thing,’ Ellison said, ‘wasn’t her house vandalised with paint?’
‘You’ve got a good memory. Now you’re going to tell me you’ve found loads of paint cans,’ said Bronski.
‘No, but there’s a chisel in here with lots of different paint colours on it, like it was used to lever cans open.’
‘I knew he would have needed something.’ Annie remembered how she’d questioned this the first time she’d seen the crime scene. ‘We’ll need to match the samples with the ones from the walls. This is getting interesting.’ Then another thought came to her. ‘Dave, there was a footprint found in her house in the paint, see if you can find any shoes with paint on them.’
While Bronski was phoning dispatch for a full search team, Ellison returned to the main bedroom where he’d found the sports bag. Annie moved on to the kitchen. She wondered how Charlie was going to react to the news that Jackie Winters wasn’t Jackie Winters after all, but June Hardman. As yet they couldn’t be sure of the relationship between her and Hardman and it still wasn’t clear what role, if any, she’d had in this. Could she have been an accessory to Angela’s assault and Moorcroft’s murder? Annie thought back to her father’s advice when she’d first started out in her career. ‘Never be surprised. People do things you least expect, things you would never do yourself.’ How many times had his advice been proven right?
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