Claire was struggling to pull her hands free, grimacing slightly as the rope bit into her flesh.
Then suddenly there he was. Marsden, or Placzek, or whatever he was calling himself, standing in the doorway looking worryingly calm.
Claire spotted him first, giving a little gasp, attracting Denning’s attention to the fact that a violent killer was now standing between them and their only exit.
Chapter Seventy-Two
The gloomy darkness of the staircase embraced him: he was little more than a solid shape in a doorway. But there was no doubt it was Marsden. The imposing self-confidence was unmissable.
Denning couldn’t tell if he was armed, but even if not, he was dangerous and they were trapped.
Marsden stood there with his hands in the pockets of his designer jeans, seemingly cool and unruffled, watching them. Denning wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there.
‘Give me your phone,’ Marsden said. His voice was calm, level; there was certainly no hint of fear or panic. He gave the impression of being in control, but how much of that was for show?
‘They know I’m here,’ Denning said. ‘My team. They know where I am.’
Marsden offered a snort of amusement. ‘No they don’t. Now give me your phone.’
Denning quickly weighed up the situation. If Marsden wasn’t armed, he could probably tackle him and take him down with a blow to the stomach. Marsden was solidly built, probably the result of regular trips to the gym, but Denning’s years of playing rugby had made him fast and fit. However, if he got it wrong, he’d be putting Claire and Jake in even greater danger. Marsden was clearly unpredictable.
‘You might as well cut to the chase, Marsden.’ He paused. ‘Is it Marsden? Or do you still go by Daniel Placzek?’
‘Not Placzek,’ he said coldly. ‘I haven’t been Daniel Placzek for a very long time.’
‘OK. It’s Alan Marsden. That’s fine with me, but whatever you call yourself now, you know this is where it ends, so why not do what’s sensible and give it up.’
Marsden let out a long, deep sigh. ‘I’m not going to ask you again, Denning. Give. Me. Your. Fucking. Phone.’ He spoke slowly, giving heavy emphasis to the last five words. He sounded annoyed, as though the situation he found himself in was an inconvenience he hadn’t planned for.
Did Marsden have any kind of plan or was he making it up as he went along, Denning wondered? If he had a plan then he was likely to be less dangerous as long as it looked like everything was going his way, but if he was reacting to events as they happened, he would be even more unpredictable. And that wasn’t good for any of them.
He reached into his jacket pocket and took out his mobile phone. It was still switched to silent mode, but he could see he’d missed a couple of calls and a text. He handed the phone to Marsden, who casually threw it over his shoulder and down the stairs behind him. Denning heard it clatter down the dusty steps. He needed to keep Marsden talking. He needed to try and come up with a way to get himself and his family out of this situation alive. That meant finding out if Marsden was armed.
‘You don’t need Claire and Jake for this. Let them go, and then you and me can chat.’
Marsden was still standing in the doorway, most of him hidden in shadow. He could see Denning more clearly than Denning could see him.
‘I’m not interested in cosy chats, Denning. I just need to think about how I’m going to get rid of you and your little family. And let’s be blunt about this; I’m already in a whole heap of shit, so adding a few more corpses to my murder quota isn’t going to make a whole lot of difference.’
Denning needed to lure Marsden further into the room, away from the door and into the light. That way he’d have a better chance of knowing if Marsden was armed. ‘Just let them go, Alan. They don’t need to be here for this.’
Marsden was leaning against the doorframe now, hands still in his pockets. He was wearing his leather jacket, which could easily contain a knife or a gun…
‘I suppose you feel quite proud of yourself, Denning, thinking you’ve worked it all out? You sussed about me and that moron Ferguson, but I’m guessing he didn’t tell you about me?’ He looked at Denning, raising an eyebrow as he spoke. ‘No, he wouldn’t, would he? Apart from the fact that he’s too stupid, he’s scared shitless of me. He knows what I’m capable of. Even banged up in a high security nick he’s scared I’m going to get to him. But he was amusing at the time.’ Marsden gave a dry laugh. ‘I had a hamster when I was a kid. I used to enjoy making it do things. Anthony Ferguson was much like that hamster, except not so bright.’
Behind him, Denning could hear Jake crying. Claire was trying to shush him, but his sobs were growing louder. ‘Do you want to shut that little brat up?’ Marsden barked.
Claire’s shushing grew louder, but had little effect. Denning glanced over his shoulder and saw that Jake was still clinging tightly to Claire, burying his head in her shoulder, which slightly muffled his crying. Claire had her arm around him, reassuring him that everything would be all right.
‘Let them go,’ he said to Marsden. ‘You can see Jake’s frightened.’
Marsden stood firm in the doorway. He’d taken his hands out of his pockets now, and had folded them over his chest.
‘I really thought me, her and him could make a go of it, you know. I actually thought I could make it work: be a normal family. I mean, I knew she hated your guts, so you were never much of a threat. I even got off at the thought of you working that murder case, knowing I was always one step ahead of you.’ He smiled coldly. ‘You see, Matt, I’m one of life’s winners.’ He cocked his chin in Denning’s direction. ‘I lose at nothing.’
‘Why did you kill those women, Alan?’
He looked bored. ‘Which ones? The recent tarts, or the ones I persuaded Ferguson to do?’ He gave another dry laugh. ‘Opportunity, I suppose. I was in a bad place when that sad little twat came into my life. He told me he fancied this girl who worked in a pub he used to frequent. The stupid fucker plucked up the courage to ask her out once and she got her boyfriend to smack him, or so his story went. He told me he wanted to get his own back, so I said he should teach her a lesson. He didn’t take much persuading. I honestly believe if I’d told him to jump into the Thames dressed as a giant prick he’d have done it.’ Marsden laughed at the memory. ‘Christ, he was so easy to manipulate, I began wonder just how far I could push him.’ His voice was still calm, detached; it was almost as though he was recalling an amusing anecdote rather than describing something that bordered on pure evil. Denning felt a writhing in his guts. There was something about Marsden that went beyond repellent.
‘I suggested he follow her home after work and do her. I’d tag along and watch, just for the hell of it. Silly bastard got the wrong woman didn’t he? I mean, what did you expect? It was dark and he was stupid. Don’t get me wrong, he still went ahead with it. And to be fair, I’m not sure he actually meant to kill her, but she kept screaming. Screaming and screaming. Screamed the fucking place down. Luckily we’d had the good sense to drag her into a wood so there was no one around to hear.’ He twisted his mouth into a sick parody of a smile. ‘I got such a fucking kick out of it. I can’t describe the buzz, watching someone totally helpless, completely at your mercy. I knew I needed to do it again, only next time I wasn’t going to remain a bystander. We planned it: the best places to go to find likely victims. Isolated spots were always good, parks at night, railway stations. It became like a sport.’
‘Your idea to carve a cross on the victims?’
‘My parents were religious. My mother wanted me to become a priest. I nearly joined a seminary when I was eighteen. I’ve spent my whole life trying to escape religion, yet it follows me everywhere.’ He gestured at the building. ‘Even now, it feels like God’s mocking me. This was the ultimate defiance. Sometimes love and hate, good and evil get confused. Ferguson didn’t understand. He went along with it, mostly because he was shit scared of me, but also because it gav
e him as big a kick as it gave me. For once in his life he wasn’t the one on the receiving end. Then one day he said he didn’t want to do it any more. I threatened him, saying I’d drop him in with your lot, but the stupid fucker had finally decided to grow a pair. He told me I was on my own. That suited me. Ferguson had become a liability by then. Half the time he couldn’t even get it up. I did the last one myself. I probably enjoyed doing that one more than all the others. Then two days later your mob picked Ferguson up. I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t talk, so I legged it to Spain for a while, then France. I had nothing to lose: my marriage had gone tits up and I was up to my arse in debt. It seemed like the perfect opportunity for a fresh start.’
Denning tried to stay calm. He needed to keep Marsden talking, and try and find a way out of this situation without anyone getting killed.
‘What about now, Alan? Why did you kill Leanne Wyatt, Tanya Russell and Sandra Blake?’ He made sure he used their names to emphasise the fact that they were people: human beings and not sport.
‘Fate,’ Marsden said coldly. ‘I’d already met Claire through a dating site, and I actually thought it might work. This was everything I’d ever wanted: a ready-made family.’ He looked over at Claire and Jake. Claire was blinking back tears and struggling with the rope; Jake was quieter now; clinging to Claire, and watching the events with a mixture of confusion and terror. She placed an arm over his head, so he wouldn’t have to hear what was being said.
‘But as always, life has a habit of taking you in a different direction when you least expect it to. We’d had an argument,’ Marsden continued, ‘about you, as it happens. I found myself chatting up some random bint in a pub. I don’t even know why. She was pissed. Pissed and lonely, and very up for it. So I took her back to a mate’s house… Suddenly she seemed to sober up, and started bleating on about having made a mistake. I don’t even remember what happened next. Maybe I just snapped. I was already in a shitty mood, so who knows, wrong time, wrong place…?’ He smiled a cold smile. ‘I just remember the buzz. I hadn’t been that turned on for years. I kept reliving it in my head, over and over.
‘Then a couple of weeks later, I was in a bar in Islington. There was some young tart having an argument with her boyfriend. After he left, I offered her a drink; then another, and the next thing we’re heading back here. This time I planned it. I couldn’t risk using the house again in case someone saw us. She didn’t take much persuading, in fact, I’d say the little bitch was gagging for it. Then she started whining about having a kid and begging me not to hurt her.’ He gave a hollow laugh at the memory.
‘As for the third one, well, that really was unfortunate. A spur of the moment thing. I saw her coming out of a bar one night with her skirt half-way up her arse. I followed her and when she started getting suspicious, I grabbed her and pulled her into an alleyway. But she fought back and that was when I discovered “she” wasn’t a she at all. I freaked out. I decided I would plan the next one properly. I’d already decided on a suitable candidate.’ He jerked his head towards Claire, still trying to comfort Jake. ‘She was becoming a liability, and it would have been fun watching you trying to figure it all out – too arrogant to admit you were out of your depth, and too stupid to see what was staring you in the face.’
Denning felt sick. He hated himself for having allowed his family to get close to this monster: someone who spoke about murder as though it were little more than an amusing pastime. He remembered what Walters had said about never having known evil until he’d met Ferguson. He hadn’t known the half of it.
‘I decided it might be prudent to let the dust settle. I suggested to her’ – he nodded his head in Claire’s direction – ‘that we take a break in France, let things cool down for a bit, but she wasn’t keen, kept saying it wouldn’t be fair on Jake. Then that story appeared in the newspaper. She must have started putting two and two together and got a bit wary, coming out with lots of questions. Perhaps that’s got something to do with having been married to a copper. I don’t know if she’d sussed something; I’m not sure I really care. The long and the short of it is that we had an argument. She told me to leave, even threatened to call you.’
‘Why take them here?’
‘I needed them out the way to give me time to think. If it’s any consolation, I wasn’t planning to harm them. However,’ he looked coldly at Denning, ‘those plans may have now changed.’
He could hear Jake whimpering. He wanted to turn round and comfort his son, but he couldn’t risk taking his eyes off Marsden, not even for a second. ‘Where do you go from here? Back to France, Spain? Somewhere new?’ Denning was standing directly in front of Marsden now. If he were to go for Claire or Jake, Denning would get to him first. But that wouldn’t be of any use to his ex-wife and son if Marsden decided to go for Denning. He was blustering self-confidence, and at some point Marsden was going to call his bluff. ‘You know how this is going to end, Alan.’
Marsden laughed. ‘I know I’m fucked whatever happens, so I haven’t got much to lose now, have I?’ He reached into his leather jacket and Denning caught a glimpse of something shiny reflecting off the dull lightbulb: Marsden was armed with a large kitchen knife. It looked suspiciously like one of the knives that belonged to part of a set he and Claire had been given as a wedding present. He must have used it dozens of times. Now it was about to be used on him.
‘Don’t be stupid, Alan. Drop the knife and let’s be sensible.’
Marsden seemed to think about this for a moment, then shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’ He lunged at Denning, the knife held tightly in his right hand. Denning jumped out the way but the knife grazed his shoulder, causing him to wince. He managed to throw his entire body at Marsden, momentarily catching him off guard and causing him to drop the knife. But Denning had misjudged the move and fell to the floor. He saw the knife on the floor and reached out to grab it but Marsden was too quick for him. He aimed a kick at Denning’s head, catching him on the right temple. Denning felt a sharp stab of pain searing through his skull and a brilliant white light flashed in his eyes. He wanted to throw up. He saw Marsden grab the knife. He could feel consciousness slipping from him as the light from the bare bulb in the ceiling seemed to grow brighter. He saw the knife in Marsden’s hand. Mustering his last drop of energy and desperately trying to ignore the pain that was ripping through his body, he rolled himself onto his side just as the knife came down. The knife grazed his jacket, but the jagged pain that tore into his arm told him it had succeeded in again making contact with his flesh. He could hear Claire screaming, begging Marsden to stop; Jake was crying out for his daddy. Blood began to pool on the dirty floor around him as the voices and screaming merged into one cacophonous noise.
Marsden was standing over him, looking down. There was nothing in his eyes but emptiness; not fear, not panic, not anger, just bland indifference.
He was about to bring the knife down again for a final time when Denning heard shouting coming from the direction of the staircase. There was a scream then Marsden froze, collapsing on the floor beside him, the knife still gripped in his hand, his eyes white and protruding, his mouth open.
Denning could feel bile in his throat as his head felt like it was going to explode. He looked up and saw a blurry trio of figures standing in the doorway: Neeraj and a couple of uniformed officers, one of whom was holding a Taser, the wires of which were attached to Marsden’s chest. Then everything went black.
Chapter Seventy-Three
They were outside the church.
The air was cooler now, puffy clouds scudding across a greying sky.
Police tape was being wound round the perimeter of the church. Several police cars were parked on the street and an ambulance stood nearby, its blue lights flickering.
A couple of paramedics, one male, one female, were attending to Denning: applying bandages and cleaning his wounds. The paramedics were insisting that he went to hospital arguing that he might have concussion, and were concerned abo
ut the loss of blood from the knife wounds. He heard himself say he was OK, though he didn’t feel it. He was more concerned about Claire and Jake.
‘They’ve gone to A&E to be checked over,’ Neeraj said. ‘But apart from shock, they seem all right.’
‘Marsden…?’
‘He’s gone to hospital too, just to make sure he’s fit enough to be questioned. But he’ll be charged with murder, attempted murder, kidnap. You name it, we’ll do him for it.’
Neeraj popped an Extra Strong Mint into his mouth and smiled. Denning wasn’t sure if it was because he’d saved the day or he was flirting with the female paramedic. He suspected the latter.
‘How did you know where I was?’
Neeraj was still smiling; it made him look friendly and likeable. ‘I finally got a trace on Marsden’s phone. It seemed a bit strange that he was in a derelict church. And what with you going AWOL, I put two and two together.’ He noisily crunched the mint. ‘You don’t need a degree in psychology to figure out how people’s brains work.’
Even if Denning had had the strength to argue with him, he wasn’t going to. ‘Thanks, Deep. I owe you big time for saving my life.’
‘Actually,’ he said sheepishly, ‘it’s Molly Fisher you should be thanking. She said if we found Marsden we’d probably find you.’
The paramedics had finished patching him up. He agreed to go to St Mary’s to be checked over, but mostly because he wanted to see Claire and Jake. He wasn’t sure how much psychological damage had been inflicted on them, or what the long-term repercussions were going to be for Jake. At the very least he owed them an apology for messing up their lives.
Chapter Seventy-Four
‘Alan Marsden AKA Daniel Placzek has been charged with the murders of Sandra Blake, Leanne Wyatt and Tanya AKA Tony Russell. The DNA recovered from the van found in Foresham Grove is a match, and traces of Leanne Wyatt’s DNA were also found in the church,’ McKenna informed them all calmly over a briefing the next morning. ‘Unfortunately, there is insufficient evidence to charge him with the earlier murders. So unless Anthony Ferguson talks, there’s fuck all we can do about Marsden’s connection with the earlier murders, and it looks like Ferguson is going to stay tight-lipped for the foreseeable.’
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