In for the Kill (A DI Fenchurch novel Book 4)

by Ed James

  The screen filled with an image of Zachary as Zoe, bent over in front of Sam Edwards, screaming out and loving it.

  ‘Why did Hannah send it to you?’

  ‘I’m the one person she could trust, the one who had protection. I’m bulletproof, mate. Nobody would come after me.’

  ‘I appreciate you showing us this.’

  ‘Don’t mention it, Fenchurch.’ Younis puckered up and blew him a kiss. ‘You owe me one, yeah?’

  ‘No, I bloody don’t.’ Fenchurch held out his hand. ‘Now, I need that as evidence, Dimitri.’

  ‘Good one.’ Younis slammed the lid of his laptop. ‘Now, you can piss—’

  The front door thumped. ‘Police!’

  Younis swung round, clutching his laptop tight to his chest. Uniformed officers bounded into the room, grabbing him and forcing him down on the sofa. Probably got a kick out of it.

  Fenchurch had his warrant card out. ‘I’m police!’

  ‘I know you are.’ Nelson stepped in the living room, shaking his head. ‘Now what the bloody hell are you doing here?’

  Fenchurch had to think fast. He stepped away from the couch, where Younis was being manhandled, shouting, ‘I want a lawyer!’

  Fenchurch took Nelson and Reed to the side. ‘Jon, what the hell’s going on?’

  Nelson took their warrant cards and checked them out like he didn’t know them. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Investigating a lead.’

  ‘On what case?’

  ‘Kay is.’ Fenchurch pointed at Reed. ‘I was driving her to the hospital to see Abi.’

  ‘Right.’ Reed snatched her card back off Nelson. ‘You want to be a dick about this, Jon?’

  Nelson motioned them outside into the cold air. Stale smoke hung on the gentle breeze. Sounded like a rave nearby. ‘The drugs squad had Younis on their radar. What you told me about Pickersgill, that opened the door. He started spilling. Talking about everything and everyone.’

  ‘What did I say?’

  ‘Him being in Hannah’s corridor on Sunday.’ Nelson got out his vape stick and took a deep suck, let it mist out through his nostrils. ‘Kid was so scared we were going to stick the murder on him that he blabbed about drug deals. My mates in Middle Market Drugs have been after Younis for a while. Before he took over this patch, he was small fry on the street, but big in supplying. Pickersgill had been with him for a while now, that shop was a lot more than just giving some kids some dope.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Jon.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ Nelson put his vape stick away. ‘So, what are you doing here? Really?’

  ‘Asking him about an email he received from Hannah. It’s on that laptop. Get that into evidence, Jon, and you’ll be knighted.’ Fenchurch started walking away. ‘Catch you later.’

  ‘Right.’ Nelson headed back towards the flat then spun round. ‘Pickersgill said the weirdest thing. Said he saw Thomas Zachary near Hannah’s room, lurking around with Oliver Keane.’

  ‘You sure about that? He must’ve been there very late?’

  ‘Guy was obsessed. Said he wanted to watch Hannah sleeping.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Mulholland’s trying to find Zachary now. He’s not at his apartment. She was heading over to the paper.’

  ‘Then let’s see if he’s at the university.’

  Fenchurch got out of the lift in Jaines Tower and stormed across the carpet. ‘Kay, is Lisa getting anywhere?’

  Reed clutched her phone to her ear, staring into space as they walked. ‘She’s confirmed that the IP address for Zachary’s account matches Zoe’s.’

  ‘So he was talking to himself? Why the hell would you do that?’

  ‘Beats me, guv.’ She was jogging to keep up. ‘You think he killed Hannah because of this video?’

  ‘A secret like that. It’s big enough to kill over, wouldn’t you think?’ Fenchurch held open a fire door. ‘I want to ask him that.’

  ‘And not Mulholland.’ Reed walked through the door. ‘We better be careful here, guv. This might—’ She stopped dead. ‘Shit!’

  A figure lay on the floor outside Zachary’s office, groaning. Brad. Zachary’s security guard.

  Fenchurch raced over and crouched, his knee groaning.

  Brad was muttering something about shooting. Then he stared right at Fenchurch. ‘My gun!’

  Fenchurch patted him down. A holster, empty. Jesus, nick him for that alone. The pistol was missing.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Reed had her Airwave out already. ‘Need medical assistance to—’

  Fenchurch leaned in close, trying to hear what else he was muttering about. Gibberish. ‘Who did this?’

  Something crashed behind the door.

  Reed locked eyes with Fenchurch. ‘We need armed backup as well.’

  Fenchurch grabbed Brad’s collar. ‘Who attacked you?’

  ‘S-S-S-Sam.’

  Shit.

  Fenchurch crept over to office door and tried peering inside.

  Sounded like glass smashing.

  ‘Guv, they’re five minutes out.’ Reed killed the call. ‘Told us to stay here.’

  More glass, louder.

  ‘We’ve not got a choice.’ Fenchurch snapped out his baton. ‘Mulholland will be here eventually. We need to get Zachary now. Stay with him.’ He nudged the door open and peered inside, his heart pounding.

  Sam Edwards was by the window, pointing a gun at Zachary. Brad’s gun. Tears streamed down his cheeks. ‘You motherfucker.’

  Fenchurch sneaked in and crawled over to the armchair.

  ‘Sam! Stop! You don’t have to do this!’

  ‘You motherfucker! You murdered her, didn’t you?’

  ‘Sam, let me go. This can be another of our secrets.’

  ‘I’m sick of having secrets with you! What did she do, eh? Send the video to you? Start blackmailing you?’

  ‘You sent it to her, you dumb homo. What did you expect her to do?’

  Fenchurch stuck his head up. Sam was still pointing the gun at Zachary, his hands shaking.

  ‘You filthy fag! This is your fault!’

  Sam cocked the hammer. ‘You filthy pervert.’ Tears streamed down his face.

  Fenchurch didn’t have a choice. He stood up tall, baton raised. ‘Stop!’

  ‘Get back!’ Sam grabbed Zachary and dug the pistol into his neck. He pushed him towards the window, his arm wrapped around Zachary’s throat. ‘I will push him out!’

  ‘Sam, let him go, okay?’ Fenchurch tossed his baton on the armchair in the middle of the room. ‘I’m unarmed, Sam. Let him go. I know you’re angry, but you need to let him go!’

  ‘No way.’ Sam nudged Zachary towards the open window, keeping the gun needling his throat. ‘No. Way.’

  ‘There’s backup on the way here, Sam. You won’t get out of here alive.’

  ‘You think I want to do this?’ Sam hit Zachary with the pistol butt, pushing him onto his knees. ‘You think I want this animal to have killed Hannah?’ He put a beefy arm around Zachary’s throat and pointed the gun at his chin. ‘Tell him.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Tell. Him!’

  Zachary choked. ‘Let me go, Sam. This is all in your head.’ He smiled at Sam. ‘You ever fired one of those? It’s harder than it looks on TV.’

  ‘I’ll take my chances that it does enough damage at this range.’

  ‘Sam!’ Fenchurch grabbed his baton, hid it behind his leg, and took a step forward. ‘You’re throwing away your future.’ He took another step, careful that Sam didn’t notice him.

  ‘I don’t care. This piece of filth dying is a price worth paying.’

  ‘No. It’s not.’ Another step forward. ‘If you let him go, you can walk away from this. It’s not too late.’

  ‘It’s way too late.’ Sam rested his finger on the trigger. ‘I’ll see you in hell, you—’

  Fenchurch lashed out with his baton, smashing the metal into Sam’s fist.

  Sam screamed an
d the pistol thudded to the floor. Fenchurch kicked it away. Zachary fell forward. Sam slouched, rubbing his fingers.

  Fenchurch held the baton above his head. ‘Sam, I need you to back off, okay?’

  Sam glowered at him, then complied, inching away and resting against the desk.

  Fenchurch picked up the gun with his baton, then put it in an evidence bag.

  Reed stood in the doorway, glowering at them. ‘Guv, you okay?’

  ‘Stay with Brad for me.’ Fenchurch watched her go then helped Zachary up. ‘You okay?’

  Zachary didn’t respond. He staggered over to the armchair and collapsed into it. ‘You’re prosecuting him, right?’

  Fenchurch glanced out of the window. Blue lights flashed in the middle distance, still that precious five minutes away. He walked over to Zachary and crouched in front of him. ‘You’re going to tell me exactly what happened on Sunday night. How you murdered Hannah Nunn. Now.’

  ‘You want the truth?’ Zachary sucked in air, then barked out laughter. ‘Someone sent me the video file, said we needed to talk about the content. I knew it was her. I didn’t have a choice.’

  Fenchurch frowned. ‘Choice about what?’

  ‘What do you think?’ Zachary laughed again. ‘I had to stop her sharing what she had.’ He nodded over at Sam. ‘This cheap slut hid a camera in a hotel room. He filmed himself making love to her!’

  ‘You mean Zoe. You.’

  ‘It’s not as simple as that.’

  ‘You were messaging her on that platform. Why? Were you working out who was the real you?’

  ‘It’s a game I play with myself. Sometimes it was on forums where other people could see it, but mostly it was just me. I was exploring how Zoe might interact with men, how to strike the right tone.’ Zachary pointed his finger at Sam. ‘But then that stupid fag worked out the truth. Didn’t even know he was fucking me until last week.’

  Sam stood to attention, looking like he was going to launch himself across the room. ‘I got a film of me buggering you and you loving it. That makes you the fag.’

  ‘You’re a cheap piece of trash, Sam,’ Zachary gasped. ‘He filmed me taking off my make-up. My wig. He violated my privacy.’

  ‘Growing up transgender where you did must’ve been difficult. But it’s who you are, you shouldn’t fight it.’

  Zachary stared at the floor for long seconds. ‘I’ve been this way most of my life. I hate myself for it. Wanting to be a woman. Acting like one. In so many ways Zoe is the real me and Thomas K. Zachary is the fiction. What I’ve built for myself, such a beautiful lie. Most days, dressing as Zachary felt like cross-dressing. Creating him, he was all I could do to stop feeling weak and pathetic. I need Thomas K. Zachary!’ He shot to his feet, fists clenched. ‘People respect me!’ He slumped back in the chair. ‘If they knew . . .’

  ‘Why do you care about what people think?’

  ‘Because I’ve created this! And it’s worked for me! I have power, I have respect. It’s a choice. It’s all a choice, I don’t need to listen to my body. I can ignore it and be who I want to be.’ A smile flashed over Zachary’s perfect teeth. ‘Donald Trump shook my hand on election night, right after Clinton conceded. I was in the room. He put it on speaker, let us all hear. I’ve got his son on speed dial.’

  Fenchurch grabbed his baton tighter. ‘So you thought all that gave you the right to kill Hannah, did it?’

  ‘Don’t I? Don’t I have the right?’ Zachary crossed his legs and folded his arms. ‘She was nothing. And I almost got away with it. Nobody saw or heard anything.’ He huffed out a sigh. ‘I went to her room to grab her laptop and she . . . she woke up . . . I tried to reason with her. Stop this video getting out. But the stupid bitch said she’d already sent it to someone. Then she attacked me. Punched me.’ He pointed at his shiner. ‘So I hit her, and she fell over. Called me Sam’s bitch. I hit her again. And again. Then I strangled her. Couldn’t stop. Didn’t stop, until . . . she was gone.’

  ‘And you raped her.’

  ‘What?’ Zachary bared his teeth. ‘No.’

  ‘Why did you go back?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You returned to her room.’

  ‘I didn’t. Oliver Keane did. I forgot her laptop. In all that happened, I forgot to clear my tracks. I was in a bit of a state. Oliver said he’d help. He went back, took her laptop. Oliver must’ve raped her. Jesus. He had . . . certain predilections.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Rape fantasies. Abductions. Back in Palo Alto, he used to find homeless women, abduct them, rape them, then leave their bodies. He did it here with some frat boy, picked up some skank from the street.’

  ‘Sharon Reynolds? Elektra De’Ath.’

  ‘Oh, Inspector. You know all their names.’ Zachary’s shoulders deflated. ‘Oliver promised me it’d be fine, said he’s covered it over so many times. Jesus. He promised he’d get it all off there. Make it as if she’d never sent that email.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘He watched the video, didn’t he? Goaded me, taunted me. I couldn’t forgive that.’

  ‘So you got Thwaite to kill him.’

  ‘That’s the trouble with people, isn’t it? You’ve all got dirty little secrets. Richard had his little fetish and he happened to be in a convenient position for me. But Oliver was just unreasonable. I thought we had an understanding, but no. He let me down . . .’

  ‘You’re a sick, sick bastard.’ Sam was shaking his head, tears slicking his cheeks. ‘Playing on people’s fears, scaring them, while you live a lie yourself. You fucking hypocrite. But you’re right. You are weak and pathetic.’

  ‘Sam, you’re the weak one. The pathetic wretch. You rent out your body to pay your way through college. Doesn’t that sicken you?’ Zachary got to his feet. ‘It hurts me to see you emasculating yourself while all these privileged, entitled bitches preen and dance on video. A man shouldn’t have to do what you do. It’s against the natural order. It’s not right.’

  ‘I pity you, Thomas.’

  ‘I don’t want your pity, you freak.’ Zachary looked Sam up and down. ‘You took my secret to that witch, trying to impress her. She tried to blackmail me to leave. When she found that video, I killed her. I had no choice. Her blood is—’

  ‘What?!’

  ‘She found it on your laptop. A video of you making sweet, sweet love to me. Must’ve thought she’d struck gold when she recognised my face.’

  Sam lurched forward, reaching for Zachary. ‘I’m going to kill you!’

  ‘Sam!’ Fenchurch grabbed his T-shirt and pushed him away from Zachary. ‘We need to let the system run through the process.’

  ‘You’re not going to get me that easily.’ Zachary laughed at Fenchurch. ‘You’re pathetic. All that time hunting for your daughter. Jennifer. Chloe. Whatever her name is. She’s a slut. I fucked her and fucked her and fucked her. Then she dumped me. Well, I found out who she really is. Sam here showed me the video.’

  Fenchurch frowned at Sam. ‘What?’

  Sam hung his head. ‘I didn’t know what I was doing.’

  ‘Zoe was interested in new girls. Sam wanted to impress her. Stupid cocksucker left his PC unlocked one time I was with him. So I sent the video to you, Fenchurch. Thought you might want to see what your darling daughter was up to.’

  Fenchurch tightened his grip on his baton. ‘Thomas Zachary, I’m arresting you for the murder of Hannah Nunn and of—’

  An elbow cracked off Fenchurch’s jaw. Something snapped his bad knee back and made it scream. A fist caught his jaw. He windmilled back and tumbled over the armchair. Someone screamed and something thudded to floor. Something crashed.

  Fenchurch groaned. His head felt like someone had cut into it with a machete. He tried to sit up but fists pinned him down. He couldn’t see who it was. Fingers groped his pockets. Then let go.

  Fenchurch tried to push himself up to all fours. Couldn’t put any weight on his knee. He blinked hard. He pushed himself u
p to standing . . .

  Just in time to see Zachary fall out of the window, his scream fading as he tumbled towards the quad.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Down below, the blue lights were nearby, uniforms spreading out across the quad. Floodlights shone on Zachary’s corpse, splattered all over the concourse.

  Sam stood next to him, staring hard, goading him.

  Fenchurch grabbed Sam in a choke hold, pulling the baton round his throat. He stamped on Sam’s ankle and pushed him over, jerking his arm up. Sam didn’t resist. Fenchurch snapped handcuffs round Sam’s wrists and got to his feet. He shut the window and locked it.

  Sam sat up, the cuffs digging into his back. ‘Good riddance.’

  Reed stood in the doorway. ‘Guv?’

  ‘Kay . . .’ Fenchurch tasted blood in his throat. ‘Have you got—’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I—’ Fenchurch shot a glare at Sam. ‘I don’t know.’

  Fire burnt in Sam’s eyes. ‘You heard what Zachary said. He killed Hannah.’

  ‘I was going to prosecute him. Now he’ll be a martyr. Why did you kill him?’

  Sam scowled at the door. ‘If you’re so interested in glory, you can lock up that shooter. Brad. Zachary’s bodyguard. He shot at you outside.’

  ‘Not Thwaite?’

  ‘Who? No. It was him. He told me. Twist his arm enough and he’ll tell you. He was going to kill Jen.’

  Fenchurch’s heart pounded. He left Sam and hobbled back through. Brad was groaning, propped up against the wall.

  Reed talked into her Airwave. ‘I think it’s the sixteenth floor. Yes.’

  Fenchurch held out his hand to Reed. ‘Cuffs.’

  ‘Guv?’ She passed him her set.

  Fenchurch snapped the second pair of cuffs on Brad.

  Brad was fully conscious now, frowning at him. ‘What the hell, dude?’

  ‘I’ve heard a story about your extracurricular activities.’

  Brad looked up. Then away.

  ‘You were told to shoot my daughter.’