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

by Ed James

  ‘Your daughter?’

  ‘Chloe Fenchurch.’ Fenchurch shrugged. ‘Jennifer Simon.’ The name didn’t bite so hard now.

  ‘Where’s Thomas?’

  ‘He’s . . . dead.’

  Brad seemed to deflate. ‘She was the target. Zachary wanted her dead because she treated him badly, or something.’

  Fenchurch couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

  ‘But then you showed up, so I changed targets. Thomas said that if I killed you, it’d make things easier. But she saved you, didn’t she?’ Brad shook his head. ‘We should’ve stuck with the plan.’

  The lift door pinged open and three armed uniforms burst out. Fenchurch pointed at Brad. ‘Take him to Leman Street. Now!’

  ‘Sir.’

  Fenchurch locked eyes with Reed. ‘Kay, don’t leave his side, okay?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He shot at Chloe. Shot at me.’

  The other lift pinged and Bridge got out, lugging her laptop case. ‘Sir?’

  Fenchurch pointed back at the office. ‘Through there, Lisa.’

  ‘Sir.’

  Reed’s gaze followed Bridge into the office. ‘Guv, what the hell happened through there?’

  ‘Honestly?’ Fenchurch pointed at the lump on his head. ‘One of them attacked me. Next thing I know, Zachary’s out of the window.’

  ‘Sam pushed him?’

  ‘Or he jumped. Couldn’t accept what was going to happen to him. The truth was going to come out.’

  ‘Guv . . .’ Reed folded her arms. ‘Loftus is on the way up. You better get your story straight.’

  Fenchurch marched through to Zachary’s office as quickly as his knee would let him.

  Sam was staring out of the window, his whole body shaking.

  Stupid bastard. He didn’t need to kill him. If he did?

  ‘Why now, Sam? Why didn’t you kill him on Monday morning?’

  Sam slumped against the wall. ‘I thought Keane killed her. He’d been paying Hannah for cam shows. I thought he’d met up and gone over the score.’ He laughed. Then his expression twisted into a scowl. ‘That video got me thinking. You were very interested in it, weren’t you?’ He rubbed at his shaved head. ‘Came into my flat, all that threatening about Jen, about how you’re her dad, when what you were after was that video. Me and Zoe. I found it in my email, Hannah had emailed it to herself.’

  ‘Was Hannah going to blackmail him?’

  ‘I have no idea. She must’ve done.’

  ‘She sent it to Younis. The only person who could protect her.’

  Sam’s fists curled tight, clanking the cuffs. ‘She couldn’t even rely on me to protect her.’

  If Fenchurch was in the same situation . . .

  Christ, when he was. When some craven animals had Abi . . . Three months pregnant, tied up in a basement. If it wasn’t for Docherty, he’d have been out of the force. At best. At worst, he’d be in the adjacent cells to the idiots that . . . Abi had made him spare their lives.

  Sam didn’t have that angel on his shoulder, stopping him joining the side of the devils. He’d lost his other half and the kid wasn’t handling it well.

  Though pushing someone out of a window wasn’t the best move anyone had ever made.

  But it was Thomas Zachary. The man who’d tried to kill his daughter. Tried to kill him. Would’ve killed him were it not for Chloe.

  Fenchurch stood over Sam, waiting until he looked up at him. ‘Did you push him?’

  Sam frowned at him. ‘Are you saying I can get off?’

  ‘Did you push him?’

  Sam tugged at his ear. ‘You were out of it. Didn’t see what actually happened, did you? He attacked you, then he jumped out.’

  ‘That the truth?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  Fenchurch sat at Zachary’s desk, trying to keep his breath steady. Could still hear Zachary’s scream in his head, swelling and roaring as he neared the ground.

  Stupid, stupid bastard.

  Put Fenchurch in a difficult situation. Zachary had murdered. Hannah lay in the morgue. He was covered in Keane’s blood, even if Thwaite pulled the trigger.

  And he’d tried to kill Chloe.

  Was it just Fenchurch’s innate protection instinct?

  Or did he want to give Sam Edwards the sort of second chance most people didn’t get? The sort of second chance that people like Zachary insisted was only available to white, middle-class men. Men like Zachary and Christian Greenwood, the rapist of Sharon Reynolds. Men who thought the world was theirs, that it should bend to their whims. Crime and punishment was for other people, not them.

  Sam Edwards, Zachary’s ultimate sex fantasy. He’d played with fire, paying Sam to treat him like the girlfriend he’d pissed off, the girlfriend who was trying to kick him out of the university.

  Lisa Bridge tapped his arm. ‘Sir?’ She was next to him, working at Zachary’s machine. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine, Lisa. What’s up?’

  ‘Well, I’ve finished going through Zachary’s computer.’ She held up a finger. ‘This is by no means a comprehensive analysis, but I’ve found the login for the email account that sent those videos to you.’ She swivelled the monitor around and tapped a painted nail off the glass. ‘I’ve also got videos and photos of Zoe with Sam Edwards and with Richard Thwaite.’

  ‘What about the account he used to send Thwaite—’

  ‘On here too.’

  ‘Okay.’ Fenchurch nodded slowly. ‘That’s good work.’

  ‘Thanks, sir.’

  The office door slid open and Loftus marched through, in full uniform, hands behind his back. He flashed a smile at Bridge. ‘Lisa, give us a minute, would you?’

  She rested a stapler on the keyboard to keep the machine from locking then left them to it.

  Loftus perched on the arm of the easy chair and took off his cap. ‘What are you doing here, Inspector?’

  ‘Saving Sam Edwards, sir.’

  ‘I meant, why here? Why now? Your wife’s in labour, man.’

  The memory stung Fenchurch. He shouldn’t be here. He should be with Abi. ‘I was following a lead, sir. DI Mulholland ordered DC Bridge and DS Reed to ignore—’

  ‘Fenchurch, you need to let this go, okay? This petty feud between you and DI Mulholland. I don’t get it.’

  ‘I understand, sir, but it’s not petty.’

  ‘So what’s it about?’

  ‘It’s . . . personal. She made a mess of something relating to my daughter’s disappearance.’

  ‘Fenchurch . . .’ Loftus sighed like he was dealing with a child. ‘I need you to grow up. Okay? Now that DCI Docherty isn’t protecting you, you’re going to be on a tightrope.’

  ‘I’m treading the line carefully, sir.’

  ‘Mm.’ Loftus stared at him for a few seconds. ‘You didn’t try and save Zachary, did you? You let Sam Edwards throw him out.’

  ‘Sir, I honestly don’t know what happened. Zachary overpowered me.’ Fenchurch pointed at the cut on his temple. ‘When I came to, Zachary was already out of the window.’

  ‘Sodding hell.’ Loftus pinched his nose. ‘This is not what I expected to happen. I wanted him in custody. It’ll all come out, I suppose.’ Loftus seemed to deflate as he sank into the chair. ‘Well.’

  ‘Sir, I need to get off.’

  ‘Just a minute.’ Loftus steepled his fingers. ‘You’ve been playing games, haven’t you? DS Nelson retrieved some evidence from the raid on Dimitri Younis’s home. A video file. Next thing I know, you’re off on some wild trip to arrest Zachary. Hunting for glory, were you?’

  ‘I didn’t want Mulholland to cover up another—’

  ‘Fenchurch. Get out of my sight. As of Monday morning, you’ll be reporting to Acting DCI Dawn Mulholland. I’ll let you decide whether you want to hand in your resignation or maybe act like a grown-up for once?’

  Chapter Forty

  Fenchurch lucked out and found a parking space outside the hospital. He lef
t the engine running and let the Beta Band track fade out. For once, he didn’t sing along with the refrain.

  Working for Mulholland.

  No chance. Suddenly, Abi’s move out to Kent or Essex seemed a hell of a lot better.

  Mulholland was going to dig into what happened. Did Sam Edwards really deserve a second chance? Losing his girlfriend. Did he deserve to lose his future too?

  Of course he did. If he did what they thought he’d done, Sam deserved life in prison. But it was never as simple as that.

  Someone rapped on the window.

  Fenchurch squinted at it. Couldn’t see them through the frozen glass.

  He killed the engine and got out.

  Docherty, leaning on a walking stick, taking a deep drag on a cigarette. He’d lost even more weight, almost literally skin and bone, his muscle devoured by the disease. He took another long drag. ‘Si.’

  ‘Jesus, boss, should you be smoking?’

  Docherty exhaled slowly, smoke snaking out of his nostrils. ‘Nothing’s going to save me, Si.’ He took another suck. ‘Doctor told me to get on with the bits of my bucket list I can actually still do.’

  ‘And smoking in a car park is on it?’

  Docherty managed a laugh, but it turned into a racking cough. ‘Might get to see the Grand Canyon, if I’m lucky.’ He took another drag, then went back to coughing his lungs up. ‘But sod it, Si. I’m going to do everything I want to do.’ Tears glistened on his cheeks. ‘Not long left now.’

  ‘Boss . . . I just . . .’

  ‘I know, Si. I know.’ Docherty exhaled. ‘One of those things. That’s all it is.’

  ‘It’s not right. You should have more time.’

  ‘I’ve had a good innings, as they say.’ Docherty put the cigarette to his lips and sucked in the burning air. ‘I heard the news. Mulholland. Loftus asked me what I thought. Told him it was a mistake, but there you go.’ He pressed his cigarette into the wall and tossed the butt into the bin. ‘You need to watch your step from now on, Si. I really mean it.’

  Fenchurch heard Zachary’s dying scream again, swelling as he fell. He nodded at Docherty. ‘Working for her. I don’t . . . Can’t.’

  ‘I never got the problem between you.’

  Fenchurch stared deep into his eyes. ‘No, you don’t.’ He sucked in second-hand smoke. ‘When Chloe—’

  The hospital door burst open and Fenchurch’s dad flew out, scowling in his direction. ‘Simon! Abi’s awake!’

  Fenchurch powered along the corridor as fast as his knee would let him. ‘What’s wrong with her?’

  ‘Doctor wouldn’t tell me or Chloe, son.’ Dad was panting. ‘He’s waiting for you.’

  Fenchurch turned the corner, could see Abi’s room from here.

  Dad nudged his son’s arm. ‘Heard about Acting DCI Mulholland.’

  ‘Jesus, Dad, how do you still hear stuff before me?’

  ‘I’ve got the whole police station bugged.’

  Fenchurch almost laughed. ‘No, really?’

  ‘Doc told me. Poor bugger.’

  Fenchurch grabbed him. ‘You need to stop hacking into police investigations, Dad.’

  ‘What? I was just looking out for Chloe, son. That Sam geezer. He’d . . . Well, she asked me to check about that video. He swore he deleted it.’

  Chloe peered out of the room. ‘Dad.’ Her frown deepened. ‘Mum’s . . .’

  Dad . . . And she’d called Abi Mum . . .

  Fenchurch grabbed her hand and squeezed. Wanted to stay holding it forever, to never let her go again.

  She grimaced at him. ‘Dad, Mum’s—’

  A scream tore out from behind her. Even drowned out Zachary’s in his head. Not Abi . . . a baby.

  ‘Come on.’ Chloe led him into the room.

  Abi was sweating, her face puffed up from painkillers. ‘There you bloody are.’ She reached out a hand for his. ‘I need you here!’

  Fenchurch got up close and kissed her forehead. ‘Sorry, love. I’m—’

  Felt like her grip was going to snap the bones in his hand. ‘Where the hell have you been?’

  ‘I had to help Kay. Something to do with the case.’ Fenchurch grabbed her and pulled her tight. ‘I thought we were losing you.’

  ‘So you went to work when I’m giving birth?’

  ‘I . . . I needed to focus on something other than worrying about you dying.’

  ‘I’m never leaving you, Simon. Okay? I’m fine.’ Abi held up the tiny ball of blankets, a shrivelled pink face peering out. ‘Alan’s fine.’

  ‘Alan?’

  ‘After Docherty.’ Abi smiled. ‘I hate the name, but it’ll do.’

  Fenchurch took the package from Abi and held baby Alan up to his face, getting that new-baby smell. ‘He’s perfect.’

  The midwife was loitering around, her frown increasing the longer she looked at Alan.

  Chloe sat on the bed next to her mother. ‘My brother . . . Jesus.’

  The midwife raced over, much faster than she looked like she could move. ‘Oh no.’ She grabbed the baby out of Fenchurch’s grasp and started walking away.

  Fenchurch followed. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I need to put him in a ventilator.’

  Fenchurch could only stand there while history repeated itself, as a midwife swept away his newborn baby from his arms.

  About the Author

  Photo © Kitty Harrison 2014

  Ed James writes crime-fiction novels. In For the Kill is the fourth novel in his latest series, set on the gritty streets of East London and featuring DI Simon Fenchurch. His Scott Cullen series features a young Edinburgh detective constable investigating crimes from the bottom rung of the career ladder he’s desperate to climb. Set four hundred miles south on the streets of East London, his DI Simon Fenchurch series features a detective with little to lose. Formerly an IT manager, Ed began writing on planes, trains and automobiles to fill his weekly commute to London. He now writes full-time and lives in the Scottish Borders, with his girlfriend and a menagerie of rescued animals.