by Sarah Flint
‘Talking about mismatched couples,’ Hunter pushed himself back away from the wall. ‘My favourite two have just been charged and kept in custody.’
‘What, Oscar Abrahams and Arthur Billingham?’
‘Yep. Some of the team that came to Hastings with us got to work on the property that was seized, while we were all otherwise engaged. It seems like they are part of a large paedophile network, working through a secret chat-room. The tech guys are still trying to unravel it. Abrahams was actually telling the truth when he said he didn’t have the car at the time of Susan’s murder. He’d lent it to Billingham while his own car was being repaired. Billingham had travelled across the channel from Dover and driven to Amsterdam. When he returned, he brought back a load of child pornography and they’d met at that Travelodge in Hastings to arrange for it to be sent or collected by other members. ‘The team have checked with the hotel and it appears they’ve rented rooms there several times. It’s a regular trip, the sick fucks. Abrahams thought he was being clever and we’d never catch him, because none of the really bad stuff was at his flat.’
‘Except the recording of that young boy.’ She thought back to when they’d burst in on him.
‘Yes, poor little mite; the child sexual exploitation unit have taken the job on. They’re trying to identify the boy and many other kids, and even babies, shown on other recordings. We’ve got the two of them kept in custody on holding charges while the tapes are gone through properly and graded. Justin Latchmere’s face was priceless when I told him his client was not being released. It’ll be the start of something big. And all because Abrahams just happened to own a dark blue Vauxhall Vectra estate and some bent copper gave Makary his registration number, to use as one of his fake vehicle IDs.’
‘Really?’
‘That’s what Makary said. I have to say, I usually hate bent coppers, like the rest of us do, but on this occasion, I wouldn’t mind shaking their hand. They’ve done us a favour getting those two off the streets.’
‘I wonder if they’d had dealings with Abrahams previously and gave it to Makary on purpose?’
‘It’s an interesting theory. It might do Makary well to have a little think about whether he might like to talk to us about stuff in a more official way, especially if he knows about corrupt Old Bill. It wouldn’t do him any harm at all to get a little assistance when he comes to court. He’s already helped solve a triple murder.’
‘At least triple.’ Charlie lapsed into thought. ‘On the subject of our murderer, what about Daniel Roberts, Father Michal, Michal Nowak, whatever he’s really called. Will he live?’
‘Yes, he will. He was shot in the shoulder and upper arm. He’s in surgery as we speak, with an armed guard. Naz and Sabira found an address for him but there’s nothing much there, a few belongings in a house he shares with several other teachers. He’s not saying anything and it’s unlikely he will.’
‘He said quite a lot to me.’ Charlie’s head was buzzing with all the updates, but now she needed to know the job was complete. She started to swing her legs off the bed.
‘I need to get out of here.’
‘Oh no you don’t,’ Meg was at her side in a shot. ‘You need to stay exactly where the doctors say.’
‘And where do you think that is?’ The door was pushed open by a man in a white coat. ‘Woah, this room’s rather full. Off you all go... Now! I need to speak to my patient.’
Charlie couldn’t help grinning as they all filed out obediently. What was it about a man in a white coat that stopped any argument dead? It didn’t faze her though.
‘Guvnor,’ she whispered to Hunter, as the room cleared of all except her, Meg and the surgeon. ‘Don’t disappear. I won’t be a minute.’
Chapter 42
‘Now it’s your turn to wait. And I mean wait here. I won’t be long.’
Hunter wagged his finger at Charlie, before striding into Brixton Custody to collect the sat nav from Daniel Roberts’ car for her to check. With the exception of Paul, who was to be their driver, the rest of the team had said their farewells and melted away back to work. Now with her colleagues gone, there was just her, Paul, Meg and Ben sitting in the police minibus. Her arm was held up in a sling and was still sore but the tablets were keeping the worst of the pain at bay.
She decided to do as she was told.
It hadn’t taken long to get to the station, after the surgeon had finally capitulated to her nagging and agreed to allow her home, on the strict proviso that Meg took care of her and she was brought back on a daily basis to have the dressings changed and her progress monitored. Meg had been sceptical at first but understood there was no point arguing. Both she and Hunter knew what Charlie was like and it was not so very different from either of them.
Ben was sitting on the rear seat. She’d noticed how quiet he’d been throughout the whole time the others had been with her in the hospital. While they’d all been laughing and joking he’d looked to be deep in thought. She turned to her mother.
‘Give us a minute, Mum.’
Meg nodded, gave Paul’s arm a tweak and then together they disappeared towards a nearby shop.
Ben turned straight towards her, his voice sounding strangulated. ‘It was my fault, wasn’t it, the fact he chopped your finger off? If I’d stayed put he might not have done it.’
She climbed into the back and squeezed up to him. She hadn’t told anyone what exactly had happened at the graveside for precisely that reason. Ben was not to know that the moment he’d identified himself as her friend, and not her brother, Roberts would have known she was trying to deceive him. Ben would never know because she would never say. Anyway, it was just as much her fault, for allowing Roberts to see Jamie’s age etched on the gravestone. Jamie could never have been her husband and Roberts would have been certain that she had lied.
‘He looked straight at me Charlie, and said, “You’ll never put a ring on this finger.” Then he chopped it off.’ Ben’s voice was little more than a whisper. He looked distraught.
‘No Ben, that’s not true. He’d already grabbed me. He would have done it anyway. He’d admitted a lot to me on the journey to the church. He couldn’t have let me live.’
‘But he wouldn’t have cut your finger off.’
‘Yes he would, because he’s cut all his other victim’s fingers off. We think he likes to keep them. We haven’t found any as yet. I would have been no different. So please Ben, stop it. You pushed me out of the way of his knife. You saved my life.’
She put her arm around him and held him close. His body was rigid; his muscles tightly under control, as was his expression, devoid of any emotion.
‘Ben, I wouldn’t be here without you. You worked out where Roberts was taking me and got there first. You told Hunter everything he needed to know. Without you, I would probably be dead.’
He relaxed slightly, his shoulders slumping forward.
She looked at his face; the worry lines creased into his forehead, the dark covering of stubble, the haunted look that still flitted across his eyes at intervals, the fatigue from staying at her side through every minute of the night and into the new day. She looked at his hands which still wore the dressings from his attempts to help her catch Miller. He remained staring ahead while she took in his every feature, before leaning across and kissing him tenderly on the cheek.
‘You know, you once said that you wanted to be my knight in shining armour? Well, last night you were.’
*
Ben couldn’t even bear to look at Charlie. Just one glance at her arm sent him reeling back to the graveyard, hearing the words, watching as her finger flew through the air to land on the cold grass. He’d picked it up, a small part of the woman he loved, and he’d known that if she was ever to return his love, he’d have to watch his ring slide over the hideous scar that marked where he’d let her down. He didn’t know if he could ever do it.
As that thought ran through his mind, so too did the memory of the shots; loud, staccato,
startling, stirring up the air all around them. Bang, bang; bullets flying, people screaming, smoke, panic, pain, just like before. Just like the times he was trying to forget.
He could feel her close, her warmth against his body, her hair against his shoulder, but all he could think about was the cold of her severed finger in the grass and the pain in her eyes, as her enemy chopped through her skin.
*
‘That’s Miller. Off to court and then prison, for a good long time, thanks to you two.’
Hunter jumped back into the front seat of the minibus and turned to where Charlie and Ben sat, pointing out a large white prison van turning slowly out of the yard, its tiny windows allowing its occupants only a small amount of natural sunlight.
‘Hope he rots in there for what he’s done.’ Charlie watched as the van pulled further away. ‘Although, rather ironically, it might be him I have to thank for saving my life, leading us to Makary and his links with Father Michal.’
‘More by luck than judgement. He would have quite happily seen you both off himself, if he’d had the chance.’
‘I bet Moses is pleased.’
Hunter held the sat nav up and beckoned Charlie up to join him. ‘He is, and he wants to speak to you when you get a minute Charlie. Naz gave him a quick ring while we were interviewing Makary, to tell him that Miller had been caught and he was safe to move back into his house, but she didn’t tell him the details. She thought you should.’
‘It’ll be a pleasure.’ She really meant it.
Meg and Paul strolled back to the minibus. Meg climbed into the back, allowing Charlie to clamber up to the front seat between Hunter and Paul.
Hunter passed the sat nav to Charlie. ‘Right what do you want this for?’
She switched it on and waited for it to load.
‘I haven’t fully debriefed you yet on what Roberts told me on the way to Jamie’s graveyard.’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Well, to cut a long story short, his parents wanted him to be a priest from a young age, which meant he could never marry or have a proper relationship. They presented him with an ornamental gold box in the shape of an altar on his ordination and apparently this is the only thing he has left from those days, to keep his precious memories in. I presume it wasn’t at the address you searched? You said there was nothing of note found?’
‘No that’s right.’
‘So he must have the box hidden somewhere else, maybe he has another address, and I’m guessing the “precious memories” he was talking about might be his victims’ fingers.’
She shuddered sub-consciously, lifting her arm in the sling. The sat nav was fully loaded now so she scrolled through to its history.
‘I was hoping this other address might show up in his previous journeys.’
A list of locations appeared on the screen.
‘Look,’ Hunter pointed to an entry. ‘That’s Downs Cemetery in Brighton, where JJ was murdered.’
‘And look at the address shown directly underneath it. Do you recognise that one? Is it the digs that you went to earlier? Or could it be where he stores his tools and trophies?’
Hunter shook his head. ‘That’s not the one we know about.’
He didn’t have to say another word; they were already on the way.
*
The address shown was a large house, but it didn’t take long to track down a resident who had seen Roberts coming and going to his room. He usually carried a large bag and he would turn up in the evening, stay a while and then leave again.
The door to the flat was held shut by a large padlock, but Paul made light work of it with a set of bolt cutters and the enforcer, splintering the wood completely on the first swing of the heavy red lump of metal.
Charlie, Hunter and Paul stepped through into a small room full of old furniture, bedecked with the trappings of a chapel. Burnt out incense sticks still laid in metal holders, the scent of frankincense hanging heavy in the air. Her attention was drawn immediately to the mantelpiece on which a gold ornamental box stood, in between photos of the man who had tried to kill her, and his parents.
Hunter pulled some gloves on and lifted it carefully down off its stand, turning it round in his hands to examine each side. He placed it down on a small table and reached into the back of it, his fingers following each nook and cranny inside. With a slight movement, she heard the sound of a catch being sprung and the top of the altar being lifted out of its position. She knew what was coming but as Hunter lifted the Perspex container from the centre of the altar, the sight still sickened her to the core.
He turned it round in the air in front of them. They had expected to see three, but as they stood mutely counting to seven, they all knew that it was by sheer good luck the number of fingers they were staring at was not eight.
*
It was another hour before Paul dropped Charlie, Ben and Meg off at the family house in Lingfield. It had been a sombre journey, with all the occupants of the minibus deep in thought.
Hunter had agreed to stay at Roberts’ address, while awaiting the Scenes of Crime officer. In addition to the body parts they’d found, the room looked to contain many items of forensic interest that would keep Roberts imprisoned for life. The families of his known victims would be informed of his arrest, and as soon as he was released from hospital he’d be interviewed in an attempt to identify the others. It would be questionable whether Roberts would even remember their names, but Charlie knew the team would try their hardest to find out their identities. If the remains stayed unidentified they would at least be given a Christian burial.
As Charlie walked into the kitchen she knew she was safe at last. No harm could come to her within these walls. She turned to give Meg a hug, as she put the kettle on.
‘Thanks for helping Ben out at Jamie’s cemetery, Mum. Do you realise it’s the first time we’ve both been there together for years? Maybe the two of us could go on his next anniversary?’
She felt her mother tense slightly and realised sadly that the barrier between them, so recently broken down, had crept back up again.
‘Maybe... we’ll have to see, love. Now what do you two want? Hot chocolate?’
She watched as her mother busied herself with the drinks. Any hope she had of sharing the pain of her brother’s loss was dashed again. She turned away, realising she needed to do one last thing.
‘Ben, go and make yourself comfortable. I’ll just ring Moses and then I’ll be with you.’
The mobile was answered immediately, Moses’ soft gravelly voice purring his thanks down the phone line. It felt so good to know that he was back in his house with Claudette, where all their memories were, where he too could now feel safe. Everybody needed somewhere to hide away from the world.
She ended the call with his gratitude ringing in her ears, when the calm was broken by a scream. She froze at the sound. It was horrifying but she knew instinctively where it had come from.
Running into the lounge she watched helplessly as Ben burrowed further in behind the cushions of the settee. His eyes were closed in sleep, but his body was awake, his brow furrowed in terror, his hands locked over his ears.
She knew with every shake of his body, every whimper of fear, exactly what she was witnessing. She had longed for his recovery, watching with delight each moment of progress, every step towards their shared goal, but now the nightmares had returned. He’d saved her life but forfeited his own, at least for the moment. There was nothing she could say to heal his pain and she didn’t try.
They would fight this thing together.
Slowly and with great care, she lowered herself down, moulding her body tenderly against his and held him tight.
We hope you enjoyed this book!
Sarah Flint’s next book is coming in 2018
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Acknowledgements
Thank you to everyone who bought my first book, Mummy’s Favourite and have left reviews, good or bad. I have been truly overwhelmed by the comments I have received. The good ones are great to read and very motivating. I have so loved writing the stories myself and it is extremely satisfying to see they have given you pleasure reading them. The bad ones give me food for thought and have made me focus on parts of my writing that need improvement. There is so much to learn. Being a copper for thirty-five years teaches you little more about literature than the format of evidential statements; though hearing a few of the defence stories and mitigation has assisted with the fictional aspects.
Since retiring recently I am enjoying the opportunity to spend more time planning, plotting and composing my characters’ next adventures and hope you will follow them in their endeavours.
Many thanks especially to the team at Aria, in particular Caroline Ridding, Sarah Ritherdon, Nia Beynon, Jade Craddock and Yasemin Turan, whose faith and encouragement got me started. Their motivation and encouragement both for creating the stories, understanding the editing and getting to grips with social media has been inspirational.
My agent, Judith Murdoch, continues to provide a solid base of knowledge and support and for that I’m also very grateful and send my thanks.
My partner, family and friends are owed my biggest debt of gratitude, for their unswerving enthusiasm and ability to put up with my nervous excitement at how my novels and retirement are progressing. It’s been a momentous year. Thank you for joining me on my journey.