Cold Blood: A gripping serial killer thriller that will take your breath away (Detective Erika Foster Book 5)

by Robert Bryndza

  When Nils got back to his office, he changed his shirt, splashed his face with cold water and re-packed his nose with tissue. He searched through his wallet, but he had nothing. He did some quick maths to work out how long it was until pay day, but a huge chunk of his salary would be swallowed up with loans and repayments. There was a knock at the door and he opened it, still holding tissue to his nose. Rebecca was outside.

  ‘Afternoon, sir,’ she said, her eyebrows furrowed. ‘Still having problems?’

  He forced a smile and blotted his nose.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I have the superglue fuming results back on the murder weapon. The test didn’t give us anything. There were no fingerprints.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  There was a depressed atmosphere in the incident room when Erika relayed the news that Nils hadn’t been able to lift any prints off the piece of concrete.

  ‘It was a long shot, but I thought that they could work with such minute amounts. I thought there would be something left on it…’ Her voice tailed off.

  ‘What about blood residue on the concrete?’ asked Moss.

  ‘They’ll run further tests, but the blood is soaked into the porous surface of the concrete. It’s going to take time. It’s a complicated process. What else do we have?’

  ‘Thomas Hoffman booked two flights to Jersey, one in his name, and one for Charlene. They were due to depart on Sunday 17th September from Gatwick,’ said McGorry. ‘Obviously, they never boarded the flight.’

  ‘When did he buy the tickets?’ asked Erika.

  ‘Thursday 14th September.’

  ‘So there’s a chance he was going to smuggle cocaine over to Jersey, or on to some other destination.’

  ‘I’m following up on everything, boss. I’ve put in a request for CCTV, in case they showed up at the airport.’

  ‘I doubt someone would be stupid enough to abduct them from the departure lounge, but it’s always worth checking,’ said Erika despondently. ‘Moss, how are we doing with the number plate data from National ANPR Data Centre?’

  ‘I’ve been sent a vast spreadsheet which I’m having to work through,’ said Moss. ‘It’s good and bad. Good because the Jaguar was driven all around central London during the three days it was taken from Justin Selby’s car showroom, and its number plate was caught on hundreds of cameras, bad because I have to collate the data and put together a route and a pattern, but I’m on it.’

  Erika looked around at the faces of her team and tried to think of something, anything, that would rally them and keep things moving, but she couldn’t. Her mood was as low as theirs. They had also tracked down the minicab driver who’d picked up Thomas, Charlene, and the unidentified man and woman outside Selby Autos, identifying the cab company from a logo on the side of the car. The driver was a Samir Granta. A woman who worked in the dispatch office said he was on holiday to Australia with his family and she didn’t know when he would be back. She was also unaware of where Samir had driven the four passengers, as they didn’t keep a record of addresses. She’d given them Samir’s mobile phone number, but it was the middle of the night where he was staying in Melbourne and he wasn’t answering.

  Erika looked at the clock. It was almost 6 p.m.

  ‘Okay, let’s leave it there, everyone,’ she said. ‘Go home and get some rest. We’ll meet back here at eight thirty tomorrow morning.’

  The team started to make their way to the door, coats in hands, saying good night. Moss stopped by Erika’s desk.

  ‘Seeing as we’re finishing early, boss. Why don’t you come over for dinner?’

  Erika looked at her watch.

  ‘Thanks, but I’m going to stop here. In a few hours it’ll be morning in Australia, and this Samir could be our lead on this unidentified man and woman seen with Thomas and Charlene.’

  ‘You look pooped, boss. Come back for a bite to eat, and then you can carry on working. I have to crack on with the number plate data. We eat early, and Jacob would love to say hello to his aunt Erika.’

  ‘He calls me Aunt Erika?’

  ‘Yes, he’s always asking about you. He drew a picture of you last week at school…’

  ‘That’s sweet.’

  ‘Well, you know the score. Kids’ pictures aren’t the most flattering. You had nine fingers on each hand and you were as tall as our house, but the thought was there.’

  Erika laughed. She checked her watch again, and was tempted to get out for a few hours, but she knew tonight she wouldn’t be the best company. She couldn’t stop thinking about the case.

  ‘Thank you, but maybe next time. If I come over, I’ll get stuck into the wine and the night will be gone! Let’s do it soon though, and say hello to Celia and Jacob.’

  ‘OK, take it easy, and I’ll let you know when I’ve cracked the data.’ She smiled and, picking up her coat, she left the incident room.

  Erika went over to the whiteboard and drank in the silence for a moment. She looked over the photos and the maps, and once again, she had that familiar feeling that it was all getting away from her. If she didn’t make some headway soon, there was a person, or people, who were going to get away with murder.

  ‘Can I have a word, Erika?’ said a voice. She turned and saw it was Superintendent Hudson, and she was holding Starbucks. She joined her at the whiteboard and handed her one of the cups.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Erika.

  ‘I saw the report from Nils Åkerman. No prints or partial from the concrete block.’

  Erika shook her head and took a sip of her coffee, savouring the taste.

  ‘I’m hoping to talk to the minicab driver later and find out if he can tell us anything about the two people with Charlene Selby and Thomas Hoffman. We’re also sifting through CCTV data of the Jaguar’s movements.’

  Melanie nodded. ‘I know you work on instinct, Erika, and I respect that, but I need to keep this investigation moving. What are you pursuing with the drugs found in Thomas Hoffman’s stomach?’

  ‘I keep saying the person who killed Hoffman wasn’t involved in drugs,’ said Erika.

  ‘I’ve been in touch with DCI Steve Harper over at narcotics…’ Erika went to protest but Melanie put up her hand. ‘Last night his team raided a drug factory in Neasden. They seized equipment for drug manufacture, raw chemicals and materials used in packaging drugs and smuggling. I need you to submit the drugs you found in Thomas Hoffman’s stomach to forensics, to run tests on the drug packets.’

  ‘They did run tests on the packets.’

  ‘They just ran the basics. I need them to do specific batch tests on the materials used to wrap the drug packets and see if we can match them with the materials seized from this drug factory. DCI Harper’s team made four arrests last night. These men are now in custody, and we could have a shot at proving the drugs in Thomas Hoffman’s stomach were cooked up and packaged by them.’

  ‘Are you taking me off this investigation?’ said Erika.

  ‘Of course not, but I have to open it out; we have to share this evidence as there is a potential overlap with your murder investigation.’

  ‘Double murder investigation.’

  Melanie took a deep breath and tried to stay composed. ‘That is something still up for debate. Can you please arrange for the drugs found in Thomas Hoffman’s body to go over to forensics in Vauxhall? I have called ahead. Nils Åkerman and his team are aware they need to be fast-tracked.’

  ‘If you’ve arranged it all, why are you asking me?’ snapped Erika. ‘I wondered why you’d shown up with the good coffee.’

  ‘It’s called professional courtesy,’ said Melanie. ‘You should practise it. Enjoy your coffee.’

  She went off, leaving Erika alone again in the incident room.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nils had been pacing his office for hours. He’d watched through the small window in his office as the sun sank down the sky, and then as the stars came out above the Thames.

  He was shocked at the turn of event
s with Jack. When he’d first started buying gear, it had almost been like he was making social calls to Jack’s flat in Camberwell. They would chat about politics or sport. He’d sometimes have a cup of tea before they exchanged cash and merchandise, but now that kid had called him a junkie.

  Nils had called Jack back to try and appeal to him, and ask for more time, but Jack had threatened him.

  ‘Nils. I know you work in the forensics unit in Temple Wharf, fourth floor. I know who your boss is, and I know his direct number. And I know where you live.’

  ‘What? You’re going to barge in here and break my legs?!’ Nils had cried, horrified, wondering how Jack knew this information.

  ‘If you don’t pay me, Nils, I’ll do worse stuff than break your legs. I’ll leave your legs, cos you’ll need to run away from the fucking chaos I cause you. I will destroy you. I will destroy your reputation,’ he’d said calmly, before ending the call.

  Pacing his office, Jack’s final words echoed around his head. Two thousand pounds wasn’t a huge amount, but it was money he couldn’t find quickly. He owed money to two friends already, and as he sat, sweating, his heart pounding, he realised they probably wouldn’t be in his life much longer; he had been avoiding their calls. Could he ask one of his colleagues? No way. You borrowed a fiver at most from colleagues, and that’s colleagues you know quite well. He opened the fridge, pulling out the stale remnants of the carrot cake. He shoved a piece in his mouth and began to chew, hoping the sugar would do something for the terrible cravings, but no sooner had he swallowed, he had to rush to the sink, where he threw it up.

  As he was running the tap and rinsing it away, his phone rang. It was Erika Foster, explaining that she needed to deliver the narcotics taken from the stomach of Thomas Hoffman for further tests.

  ‘What time were you thinking?’ he asked.

  ‘This is urgent, so I could be there in the next hour, hour and a half, depending on the traffic,’ she said.

  Nils gripped the phone; an idea had pricked the back of his mind.

  ‘If you make it two hours then the lab will be ready to put them through immediately.’

  ‘OK, thank you.’

  ‘My shift will be over,’ he lied. ‘But one of the team will run the first round of tests. There’s a safety deposit box just inside the underground garage. Put them through the slot.’

  ‘Thanks, Nils,’ said Erika.

  He came off the phone with the plan fully formed in his head. It was terrible and bold. Narcotics came in and out of the lab every day. They were strictly controlled when they came in, and had to be accounted for when they went out again. However, it wasn’t unusual after hours for narcotics to be dropped off in the safety deposit box downstairs. He looked at his watch. In two hours, Erika would be dropping off a bag of cocaine wraps with a street value of £30,000. She would be driving up to the safety deposit box. What if someone came along on a motorbike and snatched them from her? The location of the forensics lab wasn’t widely known to the public, and the location of the safety deposit box had been flagged before as being far too open and public.

  He put his head in his hands and gave a low groan of despair. Had it really come to this? For the first time he realised, deep down, that he was a junkie. He needed to get help, but he needed to do this. He could clear his debt and move on. Turn over a new leaf. Start again. He grabbed his phone and called Jack.

  ‘About fucking time! This better be good or—’

  ‘Please, listen,’ said Nils, his voice shaking. ‘If you do exactly what I say, you’ll get your money back with a huge profit. But you have to promise me that this is done without anyone getting hurt.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was late when Erika went down to the evidence room. It was housed in the basement of Lewisham Row, on the opposite side of the building to the cells, and even after so many years in the force, it gave her the chills.

  She spoke to the young officer working the small desk by the door, who took the serial number from her and vanished off down the rows of shelves. The low room was lit harshly from above, and the lights shone off the young officer’s brown hair as she moved along the crammed shelves. They were crammed with evidence bags in all shapes and sizes, containing knives encrusted with blood; clothes neatly folded and spattered with bodily fluids; lengths of rope; blunt heavy objects; delicate items of jewellery; there were even children’s toys. The toys affected Erika most, along with all the evidence bags stuffed with women’s underwear: the different sizes and styles rendered all the more sinister by their ripped and soiled state. The evidence room contained the answers to so many crimes, the scientific link between victim and perpetrator.

  The officer located the clear plastic bag of drug wraps on a shelf at the back, and returned to the desk. There were two labels stuck over the opening of the bag which had been signed by Erika, and Isaac Strong, their signatures overlapping the adhesive sticker so that if the bag was opened and tampered with it would be impossible to re-seal and line up the complex web of writing.

  Erika checked it was intact and spent a few minutes filling in forms before she left the evidence room.

  She emerged into the main corridor housing the canteen, staff locker rooms and weapon store. She passed Sergeant Woolf coming out of the canteen with a steaming cup of tea.

  ‘You’re not on the hunt for a digestive biscuit, are you? I nabbed the last of them,’ he said, holding a little packet.

  ‘I’ve got something much stronger,’ she said, holding up the evidence bag of drugs.

  Woolf cast his eye over them. ‘I’ll stick to digestive biscuits.’

  Erika passed another couple of uniform officers coming off shift, and then reached the door of the weapons store. She pressed the bell and looked up at the camera mounted above it. A second later the door clicked and opened. She had her warrant card ready, and requested a baton and a taser. As a weapons trained officer, Erika was registered to operate a taser. She signed for both and checked that the taser was charged before slipping it into a leather belt with the baton.

  The traffic was light as she drove from Lewisham, through Peckham and Camberwell. She could have easily sent a junior officer to drop off the evidence bag, but delegating wasn’t something that came easy to Erika. She wanted to keep on at Nils to make sure her face was fresh in his mind. She was going to put in a request for a complete forensics test on the Jaguar from Selby Autos. Charlene’s parents said they’d had it cleaned, but it could still give her fingerprints and DNA. The problem was time and resources. Forensics was overworked and lacked the resources to process evidence quickly, and keeping herself on Nils’s radar could help.

  There was a little traffic at a junction near Kennington, and she came to a halt behind the line of cars. Erika checked that the central locking was activated. The narcotics were in a Tesco Bag for Life on the passenger seat, the jaunty picture of fruit and veg at odds with what was inside. The lights turned green, and she moved off again, past Oval tube station, following the road around the high walls of the cricket ground. The few cars in front peeled off just before the one-way system, cutting behind Vauxhall train station to Nine Elms Lane. When Erika emerged onto the road beside the Thames, she didn’t notice the black Range Rover with tinted windows, which was parked up in the shadows next to the high curved wall separating Nine Elms Lane from the Thames flowing past below.

  She slowed and indicated to turn left, where a slip road led down to the underground car park and drop-off for the forensics lab.

  The headlights of the Range Rover lit up on full beam, and it lurched forward with a squeal of rubber, crossing the opposite lane and appearing up close in her rear-view mirror.

  ‘What the hell?’ she said, as the Range Rover came level with her bumper and blinded her with a flash of headlights. Instinctively, she accelerated, and missed the turning for the slip road. The Range Rover accelerated and with a jolt made contact with her rear bumper. Erika grappled with the steering wheel trying to r
emain in control of the car. The road hurtled past on each side, and she reached for her radio on the seat next to her, but the Range Rover fell back and then increased its speed, ramming into the back of her car. Her radio and the taser belt slithered off the seat and landed in the passenger footwell. Whipping past in a blur on either side were warehouses and a chain-link fence and a lane busy with traffic and the high wall separating road from river. The Range Rover fell back a little, so she floored her accelerator in the hope of putting distance between them, but as the speedometer moved from eighty to ninety, the Range Rover kept pace, hitting her again.

  ‘Shit!’ she cried as a line of red lights appeared ahead, where traffic was waiting at a junction. The Range Rover dropped back and then started to overtake with a honking of horns from the opposite lane. It rammed into her right side, pushing her to the left. Erika gripped the wheel as the car bumped and bounced into an uneven slip road. It was a single lane leading down between two chain-link fences. There were no streetlights, and the Range Rover kept on at her, ramming her from behind, and she had to grip the steering wheel to keep control. Her mind was whirring, trying to keep up with what had happened in the space of sixty seconds.

  The single lane road banked sharply and curved to the left. A large corrugated building with a loading bay loomed up ahead, and in front of the large roll-up door was a raised concrete platform around six feet high. The Range Rover braked and dropped back. Erika slammed on her brakes, coming to a screeching halt a few feet from the concrete platform. She reached down for the radio in the passenger footwell, but before she could get hold, she heard the engine roar and her head hit the dashboard as the Range Rover slammed into the back of her. It pulled back with a squeal of rubber, and rammed into her again. The bonnet crumpled like cardboard as it hit the low wall of the loading bay. Erika was dazed, and she could hardly move her head after the impact. Blood was pouring from above her left eyebrow.