Cruel Justice (DI Lorne Simpkins (Book one))

by Comley, Mel; Tirraoro, Tania

"Well he must've known Doreen and where she lived, but like you say what's the connection with Kim. How does she fit in?"

  The phone rang. Lorne checked the technician was ready to trace the call before she answered.

  "Hello, DI Simpkins, how can I help you?"

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  "Hello, is anybody there?"

  She listened carefully, trying to pick up on any background noise. She heard the shuffling of feet and heavy breathing.

  "Hello?" she prompted again. "I can't help you if you won't talk to me," she said, more softly.

  A muffled voice replied, "You should've been there. You could've saved her."

  Lorne closed her eyes. She so wanted to shout and scream at the caller but knew she needed to restrain herself. It was important to play things his way, to gain the killer's trust.

  "I was on an errand. I can't be here all the time, waiting for your call."

  "Didn't you spend enough time with him last night?"

  Lorne's eyes flew open and found Pete's. He raised an eyebrow and she shrugged, pretending she didn't know what the killer was referring to.

  "Ah silence, a sign of guilt. I was watching you flirting, is it his French accent that you admire, Inspector?"

  "What have you done with the woman?" Lorne asked, a tremor to her voice. The bastard had been watching her. Thank God Jacques had spent the night with her. If she'd been alone she might not be alive today.

  "Does his accent turn you on, Lorne?" the killer asked, determined to keep the conversation going the way he intended, not her.

  Pete's eyes widened and he shook his head. "Don't answer, ask about the woman," he mouthed.

  "Can I speak to the woman?"

  The killer's breath came in short bursts as he became more annoyed with Lorne avoiding his questions.

  "No, she's gone. I disposed of the body when you weren't there to take my call. You made me angry, Inspector. So very, very angry."

  "I'm sorry. Tell me what you want and I'll do my best to make things right."

  The line went dead. Lorne looked across at the tracer, who shook his head. She hurried into her office and slammed the door, feeling both helpless and guilty.

  There was a knock on the door, she hoped if she ignored it the person would give up and leave her in peace. No such luck — Pete entered as though on tiptoes and closed the door behind him. He said nothing, just sat down in the seat opposite. Lorne stared past him at the painting of the Lakes she adored that hung on the wall behind him.

  "Boss we need to talk about this."

  "The bastard is watching me, Pete. Can you imagine how that feels? He knows my every move. Why? How?" Her hands shook as she raked them through her hair. She wanted to pull it from the roots in frustration.

  "I'm not gonna let you out of my sight, okay?"

  "That's ridiculous, Pete. You can't be with me 24/7." She blew out a deep breath.

  "Was Arnaud here with you last night?" His brow creased.

  "Yes, but it was purely professional. We went over the case from every angle. He helped me make some calls. I shouldn't have to be explaining my actions to you Pete, I haven't done anything wrong."

  "You should make Tom aware of the situation. You know, that you're being watched, not …"

  "I will later. What we should be doing now is looking for the body. Get uniform on to it, will you?"

  As soon as Pete left the room Lorne reached for the phone.

  "It's me."

  "Why did you run off like that? Am I that scary, ma cherie?"

  "I'm sorry, Jacques. I've just received another call from the killer. He's killed the woman but I have no idea where her body is." She was fighting to remain professional, but all she wanted to do was seek comfort in his arms.

  "Did you manage to trace the call?"

  "No, it was too short. He's not stupid. He knows you were here with me last night."

  "How? Merde, he's watching you."

  "We need to catch the bastard before I become one of his victims. Can you hurry the tests along for me?"

  "It goes without saying. I'll get on to it immediately. Ring you later, take care, cherie."

  "I will, ring me as soon as you know anything."

  Pete barged into her office as she hung up the phone.

  "There's a woman at reception demanding to see the person in charge of the case. The desk sergeant thinks she's a nutter, but can't get rid of her. She's tried ringing me a couple of times, but…"

  "She might have some information for us, Pete. At this stage we can't discount anyone."

  Pete set off to fetch the woman, mumbling under his breath.

  The woman was dressed in black from head to toe. Silver rings jangled together as she swept her long black hair over her shoulder and sat in the chair opposite Lorne. The black on her lips and her eyes enhanced her weird beauty.

  "My colleague said you've got some information about a case we're dealing with?"

  "You mean cases, surely, Inspector. My name is Carol Lorde, my stage name is Madame Xsarina. My talent was given to me by God to rid the world of evil."

  Lorne raised her eyebrows." I see … How?" Her interest was piqued, though Pete's drifted. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed him fold his arms. She knew how he felt about outside influences on a case. He called it 'jiggery pokery' and was adamant there was no place for it on the force. In the past, he'd condemned other forces who had been open to using psychics and their 'special powers' to help solve cases. But Lorne felt differently about psychics as her great aunt used to be one.

  "I've had visions that up until now I couldn't explain. I believe three murders have been committed." When the two detectives neither confirmed nor denied her statement was correct, she continued. "I see the despicable deeds through the murderer's eyes. He is cold and calculated in his actions. I see a sheet of paper with three names on it. He's holding it in his hands and shares the information with another."

  "What're the names on this piece of paper?" Pete asked, with his usual cynical tone.

  "I can tell you're a non-believer, sir. If you can keep your scepticism in check for half an hour I will prove that my visions are accurate."

  "He will. Go on." Lorne shot Pete a warning glance.

  "The names are unclear, they are blurred …"

  "That figures," Pete muttered, under his breath.

  "I've read about the murders in the paper, but if I give you information that hasn't appeared in print then will you believe me?" She aimed her question at Pete who shrugged his acceptance.

  "If you want to leave, Pete, feel free. I'd like to hear what Miss Lorde has to say."

  "I'll stay, I promise to keep my opinions under wraps from now on."

  "Two of the women were twins. Identical twins, I believe? One of the murders was a mistake."

  "That's right, but that information has already appeared in the paper," Lorne said before Pete had a chance to jump in with another of his sarcastic comments.

  "You're missing the point, Inspector. One was a mistake."

  "There's no way of knowing if that's true at the moment, the investigation is still in its infancy."

  "When you are putting the clues together just bear it in mind. Kim, the sixteen-year-old was not originally on the list either. She did something that angered the man, she was punished for that."

  "Let's get this right," Pete chipped in, "one of the twins was a mistake and now you're telling us that the last victim, Kim Charlton was also a mistake. I guess that puts paid to your list of three names then, doesn't it?"

  The woman ignored him and continued divulging what she'd seen in her visions. "The women are abducted and kept in a kind of cell."

  Lorne was amazed by this revelation, a fact that had never been alluded to in the press. They had only discovered this particular piece of information yesterday, after Tracy's friend had listened to and analysed the tape. "Go on."

  "The women are from his past. He's punishing them for so
mething that happened years ago. I can't see what that is — perhaps it will come to me in the future. He beats them to death with a long narrow object, with a hook on one end and some kind of spike on the other. I don't think you've found any semen at the scene either, I believe the man is impotent. He does however, sexually assault them and leaves something like a calling card inside the victims."

  "Jesus Christ, how the hell did you know that?" Pete's interest piqued and he paced around the office.

  "Do you believe me now, sergeant? You have also been receiving body parts through the post."

  Lorne couldn't believe what she was hearing. "When was the last time you had one of these visions?"

  "A couple of days ago. The last few nights I've had trouble sleeping, although I haven't seen it clearly, I think there's a possibility he may be holding someone else hostage. Is he?"

  "I'm afraid I can't answer that."

  "Inspector, I can help you get this man … Burning, I see burning."

  Carol Lorde's hand flew up to her forehead and Lorne wondered if the woman was having another vision.

  "Ah well, now that's where you're wrong because none of the victims have been burnt or found near a fire." Pete was quick to point out.

  Lorne studied the woman as beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. She clutched at her throat and gasped for breath.

  "I can't breathe. There's a thundering noise. Flames leaping up all around me. I'm in a tunnel, I can see the end of it. A river is a few feet away, if only I wasn't bound I could dive in and put the fire out. Torture, this is pure torture! He's standing close by, laughing as the flames engulf me, goading me. Please. Please help me."

  "Get the map, Pete." Lorne ordered.

  Pete came rushing back into the office when he heard a scream. The woman had passed out in the chair. Lorne rushed past him to get a glass of water.

  "What happened?"

  "She just passed out. Set the map out on the desk, we'll go over what she told us."

  "If you believe what she just told you, you're as insane as she is."

  "How can you say that? She's given us info that isn't common knowledge yet. Like the body parts arriving in the post, and the way he kills the victims. What else have we got to go on, Pete? Lighten up for Christ's sake. Right we're looking for water and a tunnel of sorts." Lorne checked the woman's pulse and it seemed normal. She kept a close eye on Carol as Pete and she studied the map.

  "Here, the river runs along here and shit, there's a bridge. Jesus, could that be classed as a tunnel?"

  "Ring down to reception, get someone up here to look after her." Excitement churned up Lorne's stomach.

  "Will do. What are we going to do?"

  "Get down there straight away, of course." Lorne grabbed her keys and handbag.

  "But it might not be that site. Who's to say she's right?"

  "It's a chance I'm willing to take. Come on."

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  It was gone six by the time they arrived at the location; the light was fading fast. Something in the distance caught their eyes. An orange glow beckoned them.

  Pete bolted from the car, leaving the passenger door swinging in the breeze. Lorne contacted the station and called for back-up. She also requested the fire brigade, an ambulance, and told the controller to place a call to Dr Arnaud immediately.

  Lorne searched the boot of her car. "Damn it!" All she found was a couple of carrier bags that had seen better days.

  "Here, get some water in these," she handed Pete the bags. He looked at them and shook his head in despair, then ran to the edge of the stone embankment and scooped his right arm into the murky river.

  As he pulled the first carrier bag out, the handle stretched and broke under the weight of the water. "Shit!" He tried another bag, this time filling it with less water and rushed over to the small fire burning by the bridge wall. The orange glow dimmed only to flare up again when he threw the pitiful amount of water on it.

  "It's no good, we need more water." Lorne's voice was urgent as trepidation filled her. She placed the last two carrier bags one inside the other and handed them to her partner. "Take this. I'll see if I can find anything else." She hunted the area surrounding them and found an old metal bucket that had a large hole in the bottom, but the handle was good. After Pete tipped another bagful of water on the flames, Lorne held the bucket out to him. "Put the bag inside to cover the hole. Pete, hurry up, keep them coming. It's working, the fire's going out."

  Lorne felt relieved when she heard the sirens in the distance. The fire engine pulled up as she threw another bucketful of water on the fire.

  "Stand back, miss. We'll take it from here." The burly fireman gripped her by the elbows and guided her back towards her car.

  "It's a woman's body. Be careful with her, try not to destroy any evidence."

  "I understand. We'll do our best not to disturb any more than we have to."

  Pete joined her and they watched in silence for a while as the fireman put out the fire. Pete appeared to be just as traumatised as she was.

  "This is my fault. If only I'd been around to take his call, maybe I could've prevented this. That poor, poor woman." When she saw the charred remains, tears welled in her eyes, but she was determined not to let them spill.

  "That's rubbish, Lorne. The sick bastard's got an agenda. He was set on seeing it through whether you were around to take his call or not."

  It was unusual for him to call her by her Christian name and she felt strangely comforted by it.

  A black BMW skidded to a halt in the gravel alongside them. Jacques walked towards them. He eyed her with concern. "Inspector?"

  Lorne watched as sparks flew between the two men. "Pete, can you check what's happening, while I have a word with the Doctor?"

  "How did you know where to find the body?" Jacques stepped forward as her partner walked away.

  "Not long after I called you, a woman turned up at the station wanting to see me. She's a psychic and she told me things about the victims that I've intentionally kept out of the media. She told us about a bridge — actually she called it a tunnel. That it was by a river. She also told us she's been having visions and said she sees things through the killer's eyes. She also saw a list with three names on it, I know this is the fourth murder, but she thinks two have been mistakes. Maybe the other two women were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Who the hell knows? She even told me about the packages I've received. She made me think — the way he keeps ringing me and letting me know he's watching me, makes me wonder if he intends making me one of his victims. Perhaps mine is the third name on his list."

  "Is that what you truly believe?"

  "Why else would he be trying to make contact with me?"

  "There could be a number of reasons. You're the lead investigator."

  "Hmmm …"

  "It's plausible that he sees you as a friend rather than foe."

  "If that's the case, why won't he confide in me why he's carrying out these murders? Why are his calls so brief?"

  "Because he's not stupid, he knows you'll try your best to trap him, to trace his calls. Whatever happens, swear to me you will never agree to meet him, not alone."

  "If it means I can save the lives of other women that's exactly what I'll have to do."

  "But that's ludicrous. You can't put your life at risk to save others."

  "I joined the police force to protect and serve my fellow countrymen. If I turn away and run when things get tough then I shouldn't be in the job, should I?"

  He shrugged, defeated by her words. "I can see it would be useless to try and dissuade you."

  Pete returned to them and shaking his head, he said, "I told you he was getting worse."

  Jacques gave Lorne a puzzled look. "The crimes, Pete's got it into his head that each murder is worse than the previous one."

  "It is not uncommon for a murderer to perfect his art. He becomes more confident and I suppose more adventurous in the way he kills."


  "Tell us something we don't know," Pete uttered.

  Jacques' eyes creased in annoyance at Pete's derogatory tone. "Far be it for me to tell you your job DS Childs, but I think it would be better if you took DI Simpkins home. She's had a rough day and she also spent an uncomfortable night at the station."

  "Yeah, you'd know all about that of course."

  "Pack it in you two for God's sake. Thanks for your concern Jacques, but I have a post-mortem to attend in case you've forgotten. There's no way I can call it a day, even if I wanted to. Which I don't."