The man pouted for a moment before his shoulders sagged, and he nodded.
‘All right.’
‘Thank you. One of my colleagues will take a statement from you regarding the vehicle theft. Please, feel free to join your wife in the house.’
In reply, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Actually, if you don’t mind, I need to get on with butchering this. If I don’t, the heat will get to it, and the meat will be ruined.’
Kay acquiesced, then made her way out of the outbuilding, gulping in the fresh air as she approached Barnes.
‘Don’t say a word,’ he growled as she drew near.
Despite herself, Kay couldn’t stop the quirk at the side of her mouth. ‘It happens. You’ll get over it. How far away is Harriet?’
‘About an hour. Stewart has established a crime scene over at the paddock.’
‘Okay, there’s not much else we can do here. Let’s go back and brief the others.’
‘I can’t wait,’ said Barnes, and stomped off ahead of her.
Forty
‘You’ve got a face like thunder.’
Kay dropped her bag to the floor next to the staircase and tried to smile at Adam’s words as he peered around the kitchen door.
‘It’s not that bad, really.’
‘You won’t be needing a glass of wine, then?’
‘Very funny.’
She traipsed along the hallway towards him, loosening her shirt from the waistband of her trousers and shucking off her jacket as she sank onto one of the stools at the central worktop.
He turned from the refrigerator, a bottle of white burgundy in his hand, and Kay almost salivated at the sight of the condensation glistening under the spotlights set into the ceiling.
‘What happened?’ he said as he poured two generous measures into glasses and slid one across to her.
‘Thanks. We got the wrong suspect. I think.’ She took a sip and closed her eyes, battening down the urge to groan and lean her forehead on the worktop. Instead, she ran a hand through her hair, then turned her attention to her other half, who watched her keenly over the rim of his glass. ‘Tell me about your day.’
He smiled, recognising her reticence in talking about her own work as a way of coping, but playing along anyway.
‘We’ve managed to find a new home for Misha,’ he said.
‘Oh, where?’
‘There’s a goat sanctuary just south of Maidstone and one of their contacts has offered to take her in. A husband and wife – their children are all at university, so I think they have a few animals at their smallholding near Headcorn to make up for it. Keeps them busy during term times. They’re about to head off to Spain for a short break, but Misha will move in with them when they return.’
‘At least your herbs will be safe.’
‘Yeah, thank goodness – she nearly had the bay tree this morning.’
Kay laughed, despite herself. It was rare that Adam lost patience with an animal, but she knew how much time and effort had gone into getting the soil in their garden perfect for growing vegetables, and the herb garden was Adam’s pride and joy.
‘Right, enough small talk. Want to tell me what happened today?’
Kay took another sip of her wine, then sat the glass down with a sigh. ‘I thought we had him, Adam, I really did. I’m not blaming anyone, I never would blame a member of the team, but everything pointed to this one person, and I got caught up in their enthusiasm. He had the means, he was in the area at the time of the murders—’
‘But?’
Kay proceeded to tell him about the raid on the property that morning, her shoulders relaxing as Adam’s mouth twitched, until he could take it no more and burst out laughing.
‘Oh my God,’ he said, wiping at his eyes. ‘I can imagine your faces.’
Despite her earlier frustration, Kay couldn’t help herself and chuckled. ‘Barnes’s face was a picture. I don’t think Morrison and Stewart will ever let him forget it.’
Adam grew serious. ‘So, your suspect is still out there.’
‘Yes.’ She shook her head, and straightened her back, easing the kinks from her shoulder muscles. ‘And the more I think about it, the more I think he’s going to kill again. He’s too good at it, Adam. What I can’t work out is how he’s managed to stay hidden for so long.’
‘You think he’s waiting for all this to – pardon the expression – die down? You think he’s going to bide his time?’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’
Adam’s eyes darkened. ‘And, in the meantime, you’re worrying about how many others he’s killed.’
He reached out for her hand, and she wrapped her fingers around his, desperate for the human contact to ground her, to let her know it was going to be all right, and that she would find the monster that had emerged from the shadows.
Kay blinked, then stared at the speckled surface of the worktop, her eyes unfocussed.
‘Hey.’
She raised her gaze to his at the sound of his voice.
‘It’s going to be okay, Hunter.’
‘Thanks.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘What does Sharp say about all this?’
‘He’s been fantastic, to be honest. I have a feeling he’s sheltering me from a lot of the flak from headquarters – they must be on edge. Of course, the longer it takes us to find the right suspect, the longer the rumour mill has to turn.’
Adam gestured at the local newspaper folded up at the far end of the worktop. ‘He must be doing a good job – most of the reports in there this week and on the evening news have been general updates, nothing more. I haven’t seen anything that would constitute speculation.’
‘I don’t think they dare to after what happened with Suzie Chambers.’
He moved around the worktop until he was behind her, then reached out and massaged her shoulders. ‘I’ve got a great idea. It’ll be quiet up the pub this time of the week. Go get changed, and we’ll wander up the road and have dinner there. The change of scenery will do you good, and it’ll take your mind off the case for an hour or so.’
Kay felt a pang of guilt clutch at her chest, then sighed. ‘You know what? You’re right. I’m going to sit here and worry otherwise, aren’t I?’
She spun on the stool to face him and was rewarded with one of his cheeky smiles.
‘I don’t know why all these health gurus promote yoga and stuff for relaxation,’ he said. ‘All I have to do is mention the pub, and you’re a different person.’
She laughed and slapped his arm playfully as she slid off the stool and made her way to the hallway.
‘For that, dinner’s on you.’
Forty-One
Patrick Lenehan checked his cufflinks, then turned to the mirror and grinned maniacally.
It had been so easy.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a woman like this.
The anticipation was painful; delightfully painful.
Turning away from his reflection, he made his way across to a small refrigerator, opened the door, then hunkered down and surveyed the contents.
Wine, or beer?
Patrick glanced at his watch.
Beer. And he’d brush his teeth again.
He straightened, folding back the metal tab on the top of the can, the subtle pop and fizz of the pressurised liquid inside teasing his taste buds.
He took a long, satisfying swallow, and belched.
Moving across to a circular table next to the window, he pressed a key on the laptop and watched as the screen came to life. He checked the wireless connection was active, then manoeuvred the cursor to an icon in the top left-hand corner of the screen and double-clicked on it.
Running his gaze over the new emails, he discarded most of them as nonsense, and closed the laptop lid. He could afford to forget about work for a few hours.
After all, he had more important things to do.
Patrick closed his eyes and ran his hand over the back of his neck, then raised
the can to his lips once more, focusing on the mirror next to the bed. He reached up and loosened his tie, tossing it onto the table next to his computer, then tweaked the top button of his shirt, letting his collar fall open.
He supposed he didn’t look too bad for a man of his age. If he were honest, he’d let himself go a bit in the past year but travelling from place to place and visiting clients all over the country played havoc with his life.
He moved closer to the wall and flipped the switch to turn off the main lights in the room, the bedside lamps lending a soft glow to the space. His eyes looked a little tired, yes, but maybe she wouldn’t notice.
He scratched his jaw, wondering if he had time to shave, then thought better of it.
Some women found a bit of stubble attractive, didn’t they?
He almost cried out when the mobile phone on the table behind him squawked.
Annoyed with himself, he moved across the room in three strides and swept it up.
‘What?’
The voice at the end berated him; he was late calling.
He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.
Truth be told, he’d forgotten, but he wouldn’t tell the caller that.
He wouldn’t dare.
‘I’ve been busy,’ he said instead.
He listened to the monotonous instructions; where to go, what to do, when to do it.
‘No problem.’
His mind wandered, his thoughts turning to escape.
He’d become trapped, a victim of circumstances of his own making, and it wasn’t something that sat well with him. He needed a way out – a way to start again and forget the past.
He had done it before, once, and it needled him that he was the one who had to leave.
The call ended with him repeating the perfunctory words that were always required, then he dropped the phone back onto the table and ran a hand across tired eyes.
He pulled out a chair and sank into it with a sigh, then reached across to the can of beer and took another sip.
He ran through his plans in his head once more. Timing was critical. He checked his watch and, realising that only a few more minutes had passed, paced the room once more.
What if he had made a mistake?
What if he got caught?
A smile teased his features at the last thought, for wasn’t that part of the thrill?
He drained the beer, scrunched up the can and tossed it into the waste paper basket, then padded through to the bathroom, the extraction fan whirring to life as he flicked the switch.
He took his time brushing his teeth, lost in the motion as he paced the floor and contemplated the evening to date.
It had gone better than he had anticipated – the people he had met with had left the dinner in high spirits, and before returning to his room he had taken the opportunity to have a nightcap at the hotel bar.
That was when he had seen her.
He spat the remnants of the toothpaste into the basin and swished his mouth out with cold water before dabbing his lips with one of the white towels next to the taps.
A knock on the door jerked him from his thoughts, his heart giving an involuntary lurch.
This was it.
A predatory smile crossed his lips, and he removed the security chain before twisting the doorknob.
‘Hello,’ he said.
She grinned, and stepped into the room, removing the badge from the left breast pocket of her shirt before tossing it onto the table next to his car keys.
As she unbuttoned her shirt, he ran a hand over her bare shoulder, then bent down to kiss the pale skin at the nape of her neck.
‘Are you ready for a good time?’ he murmured.
Forty-Two
Peering through the slight gap between the door and the frame, she blinked in the bright light from the corridor beyond.
The soft purr of the hotel’s air conditioning system reached her ears, but no sound of voices. No footsteps.
She opened the door wider and slipped through the gap, then glanced over her shoulder at the silent room within, the man’s prone body stretched across the rumpled sheets, his face turned away from her.
A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth but didn’t reach her eyes.
She straightened her skirt, re-pinned her badge to the front of her shirt, then closed the door and pulled her shoes onto her bare feet. Swinging her bag over her shoulder, she hurried along the carpeted hallway, paying no attention to the snores from behind other doors as she passed by and ignoring the blinking red pinpricks of light from the smoke detectors set into the ceiling as she strode underneath them.
She checked her watch. Twenty minutes to spare.
She fought down the urge to panic. If she panicked, she’d make a mistake, and that would be the end of it.
She breathed out, a shuddering breath that caught her off guard.
As she turned a corner in the corridor, adrenalin spiked through her body and she slowed her pace deliberately.
She clenched her fists, her nails scraped the soft skin of her palms, and then she held her head higher and strode towards the door at the end.
A CCTV camera lens glinted in the light from a lamp that had been set on an ornate table in the far corner, but she ignored it. It wouldn’t give her cause for concern; not tonight.
She reached into her bag, extracted a paper tissue from a packet, then wrapped it around her forefinger.
Approaching the door, she jabbed at the keypad. The code had been changed earlier that day, but she’d worked it out.
All she had to do was wait, and watch.
A soft click reached her ears and she leaned against the wooden surface.
The door gave way under her touch and swung outwards into the night air.
Two steps led down to a paved surface, and once she’d cleared the threshold, she pressed the door back into its frame, waiting until she heard the lock reset.
The vehicle was parked close to the wall, away from the prying eyes of the cameras mounted on top of metal poles at incremental locations around the hotel perimeter.
No-one else liked to park there; in the summer, the trees cast their pollen and flowers across the paintwork, and in winter it was too far from the entrance to the hotel – she knew; she’d been caught out more than once and been soaked to the skin from cold rain that had lashed the countryside.
But, it was worth it.
She raised her gaze to the sky, a lighter hue staining the deeper blue, testament to the summer solstice that was only weeks away.
Pinpricks – stars – peppered the horizon while a crescent moon hovered overhead.
She closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of the hibiscus that had been planted in the border under the curtained windows of the building, then refocused.
She waited until she reached the car before inserting the key into the lock of the driver’s door. She could have used the remote mechanism, but the alarm had an annoying habit of emitting a two-tone beep whenever it was deactivated, and she didn’t want to draw attention to herself.
She relaxed as she eased herself into the seat behind the wheel, before her thoughts jerked back to the man she’d left in the hotel bedroom.
She blinked to clear the thought, put the key in the ignition, but didn’t start the engine straight away. Instead, she flipped on the interior light, checked her hair looked all right and that her lipstick wasn’t smudged.
Satisfied, she snapped off the light and wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel.
Fifteen minutes.
She reached out and started the engine, a soft purr emanating from under the bonnet.
Easing the car out of the space, she kept her speed low as she manoeuvred through the car park to the exit.
The road beyond was deserted.
She risked a glance in the rear-view mirror as she accelerated away, keeping a little under the speed limit to avoid drawing attention to herself.
He had been a bit of fun, that was all
.
And, thanks to the steps she’d taken, there would be no trace of him in the morning.
No trace at all.
Forty-Three
Kay raised her gaze from her computer monitor and smiled as Barnes handed a steaming cup of tea to her.
‘We still on for tonight?’ he asked. ‘Barbecue at mine, remember?’
Kay twisted in her seat to see Gavin and Carys standing next to the whiteboard, deep in conversation as they pointed at the various photographs, working through the evidence to date after that morning’s briefing.
To her left, a steady stream of uniformed officers and administrative staff entered and left the incident room, their muted conversations a permanent white noise that wouldn’t dissipate until the case was solved.
She sighed, knowing she was fighting a losing battle against the bureaucracy of headquarters who would start questioning the manpower allocated to the murders.
Sharp had left an hour ago for another meeting with their superiors, promising to do what he could to keep the team together.
On top of that, Jonathan Aspley had left four messages for her within a twelve-hour period. She’d have to phone him back and give him something to work with, or else he’d lose patience and print an opinion piece that could hinder the investigation – or, worse, alert their killer to their progress.
‘Guv?’
She shook her head to refocus. ‘Sorry.’
‘Tonight. Barbecue. Mine.’
‘Do you think we should?’
Barnes pulled across a spare chair, the current owner of it nose-deep in paperwork by the photocopier on the opposite side of the room. He placed his mug on the desk next to hers and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
‘Yes, I do. For a start, it’s our tradition. Once a month, we each take a turn, and we’ve never missed one. Secondly, we need to let off some steam. Relax. You know as well as I do that’s when we often get our best ideas.’ He glanced over his shoulder before turning back to her. ‘Just because we take a few hours out from thinking about our victims doesn’t mean we don’t care, guv.’
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