‘Yes.’
Back to the file. ‘And you were there all night. Watching DVDs. Eating takeaway food.’
Sophie nodded.
Anni looked directly at her, the earlier friendliness now completely absent. ‘No you weren’t.You’re lying.’
Sophie was taken aback by the words.
The test results were back, thought Clayton. And they were positive.
46
‘But let’s put that to one side,’ said Anni. ‘We’ll get to that. Let’s talk about Ryan first. How did you meet him?’
Sophie, shaken from Anni’s previous words, trotted out the same story Clayton had heard the previous night. She was seeing one of Ryan’s competitors, she heard there was a job going, she applied, was taken on, then dumped her boyfriend and took up with Brotherton. Anni listened, nodded, said nothing.
There was silence while she consulted the file once more. Clayton watched the monitor helplessly. There was nothing he could do. Anni was controlling things now.
‘Did you know Susie Evans, Sophie?’
Sophie seemed to be deciding on what her answer should be. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But not very well.’
‘You got pulled in with her. On a raid.’ Anni read down. ‘Couple of raids.’
Sophie nodded, but said nothing.
‘Did Ryan, your boyfriend, know Susie Evans?’
Clayton saw the fear and desperation in Sophie’s eyes as she stared at Anni. ‘No. I don’t know. Not that I know of.’
‘Which one is it?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know.’
‘If he did, he never mentioned it.’
‘Right.’ Anni flipped over a few pages, brought out another sheet of paper. ‘Funny, that, because his name has come up a couple of times where hers is concerned. Quite a few times, actually. And yours is there too.’
Sophie again looked round, trying to find help and support from some corner of the room, fear now rampant in her eyes. Clayton, in the office, looked at Anni, knew that look on her face. She was trying not to smile. She had something.
‘Yes. When you and she were picked up a few times, he was picked up too. Never charged, which was why it took me so long to find the information, but his name was taken. Don’t you think that’s a strange coincidence?’
Sophie looked at the table. ‘Yes. It’s a coincidence.’
‘A coincidence. Right. So it’s a coincidence that you knew Susie Evans. Worked with her. And that Ryan Brotherton knew Susie Evans. And that Ryan is now your boyfriend. And Susie Evans is dead. Murdered. And Ryan’s ex-girlfriend, Claire Fielding, is also dead. And Ryan, your boyfriend, the one you were eating takeaway food with and watching DVDs with the other night, has a history of violence towards women. A problem with women, in fact. A very serious problem.’ She sat back, her eyes locked on to Sophie like laser beams. ‘Quite a coincidence.’
Sophie looked frantically at Anni.
Anni leaned forward. ‘You want to tell me the truth now?’
Sophie’s head dropped into her hands. ‘No . . . He’ll kill me . . .’
‘Yes,’ said Anni, her tone conciliatory yet steely. ‘He very well might. So I’m your only chance, Sophie. You’d better talk to me. Right?’
She nodded.
‘Truth this time.’
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘The truth.’
Phil walked back into the interview room holding a document file. On the file was Ryan Brotherton’s name. He set it on the table, resumed his seat. Brotherton looked expectantly at him. Phil opened the file, glanced at the contents. Raised his eyebrows.
‘Oh, Ryan . . .’
‘What?’ Brotherton craned his neck forward, trying to see what was written there. Phil moved it further away from him.
‘Jesus, you have been a naughty boy . . .’ He held his gaze on the pages for a few more seconds, just long enough for Brotherton’s anxiety levels to increase, then flipped the cover of the file closed and looked levelly at him. This was a different Phil from the one who had left the room. He had appeared to be Brotherton’s friend, someone on his side. This new Phil was something different. A professional. A heat-seeking missile zeroing in on his target. And he wasn’t going to miss.
‘Where were you on the night of Wednesday the seventeenth of November?’ he asked.
Brotherton looked startled at Phil’s abrupt tone.
‘Where were you?’
‘I was . . .’ His eyes slipped away to the left. ‘At home. With Sophie. We watched a DVD, I told you this.’
‘Liar. Where were you?’
‘I told you where I was . . .’ Eyes straight ahead, imploring, trying to hold Phil’s gaze, saying: Would I lie to you? ‘That’s the truth.’
‘You’re lying, Ryan. Where were you? Between eight p.m. and two a.m.? When Claire Fielding, your ex-girlfriend, the mother of your child, was being murdered, where were you?’
‘I’ve told you.’ Eyes left. ‘At home. Watching a DVD. With Sophie. Ask her.’
Phil gave a small, tight smile. ‘We will. Don’t worry about that. Can you trust her?’
‘What?’
‘Can you trust her? To lie for you?’
Eyes away to the left. Thinking. ‘I can trust her. Yeah.’ Defiance in his voice.
Phil sat back, not taking his eyes off the other man. Time for something else. ‘When did Claire first tell you she was pregnant?’
Brotherton thought, looking down to the right. ‘About . . . five, six months ago.’
‘And what was your reaction?’
‘I’ve told you. I didn’t believe her.’
‘But you soon did.’
Brotherton shrugged.
‘She soon convinced you. Because you told her you wanted her to get rid of it, didn’t you?’
Brotherton stared at him, said nothing.
‘In fact you said that if she didn’t, then you would. With your own hands. Isn’t that right?’
Fear appeared on Brotherton’s face. ‘I . . . I want my solicitor . . . I’m not sayin’ another word without my solicitor bein’ present.’
‘We’ve called her, she’s on her way.’
Rage and fear clouded Brotherton’s face. ‘She? What the fuck d’you mean, she? Where’s Warnock?’
Phil could barely keep the smile off his face. ‘We phoned your solicitor, Mr Warnock. He’s . . . unavailable, apparently. But they’re sending someone from the practice. Bit young, but very good, they say.’The smile appeared. ‘She’s just finished working with victims of domestic abuse in a women’s refuge, I think they said. I’m sure she’ll be very interested in all this.’ Phil didn’t know anything of the sort, but he knew what kind of effect his words would have.
Brotherton said nothing. Phil knew he had hit the bullseye. Brotherton would talk to him now.
‘So you offered to give Claire Fielding, your girlfriend, an abortion. With your own bare hands, is that right?’
‘It wasn’t like that . . .’
Phil leaned across the table. ‘What was it like then, Ryan? Tell me. Make me understand.’
‘She . . . I didn’t believe her at first. But then I had to.’
‘And you got angry.’
He nodded.
‘You didn’t want a kid around the place. It would stifle you, tie you down, that right?’
Another nod.
‘Too much responsibility. So you made that very generous offer.’
Brotherton said nothing.
‘And what was Claire’s response?’
Brotherton still said nothing.
‘No? I’ll tell you then, shall I? She left you. Summoned up the courage to walk out on you.’
‘No she didn’t. I threw her out.’ His eyes away to the left as he spoke.
‘No you didn’t. That’s a lie. She left you. But you could-n’t take it, could you? Couldn’t take some piece of skirt walking out on you. Especially not a pregnant one. How hurt was your pride?Your ego?’
‘Same as anyone else’s. So what did you do next?’
‘Nothin’.’
‘Liar.You phoned her. Texted her. Threatened her.’
‘No I didn’t . . .’
‘Yes you did, Ryan. We’ve got her phone records.’ Not strictly true, thought Phil, but they were on the way. He was confident they would show that he was telling the truth.
Brotherton’s head went down. Phil had been right. He didn’t have time to gloat; he had an advantage. He had to press it.
‘You stalked her?’
‘No.’ Eyes away to the left. A lie.
Phil hid his smile. Another bullseye. ‘Yes you did, Ryan. You stalked her. Why? Because she’d dared to escape, to run away? Because you couldn’t have her where you wanted her to torment? Yeah?’
Silence.
‘So what did you think you would achieve by stalking her? Would that get her back?’
Brotherton said nothing.
Phil regarded him coolly. He was well in the zone now, thinking and acting intuitively. On fire but controlling it.
‘Did you like the feeling of power it gave you, is that it? Do you think it scared her?’
‘Fuck off.’
‘Because you like scaring women, don’t you?’
‘Fuck off!’
‘Like hurting them . . .’
Brotherton stood up, swinging his arms. ‘Fuck off!’
The uniformed officer waiting at the door stepped forward, ready to grab him if he made a move. Phil got to his feet too. Brotherton moved forward. He was going to go for him.
47
He stood up, opened his eyes. Allowed himself a few seconds of indulgence. Smiled.
His prey was gone. Dead. The birthing room trashed. Order had become chaos. He could feel the blood of his prey soaking into his clothes. He loved that feeling. Luxuriated in it.
It had started when he used to hunt rabbits and deer in the woods. There was the planning, the preparation.Then the chase, the thrill of the kill.Then that moment of power, looking down on something that had recently been alive, knowing he had had the power of life and death over it.And had chosen death. He used to get his knife out and quickly slit the animal open. Steam would rush out as the hot innards and blood collided with the cooler air. Blood would spurt and fountain and he would catch it. Spray it on to himself, feel the hot, glistening liquid warm his skin, smell the dark, coppery scent of his prey. Spraying it down his throat, swallowing it down. It felt like he was taking the spirit of the slain beast, ingesting it, letting it feed him.
He looked down at his prey, lying there on the floor of her living room. He had wanted to do just that. Catch her blood in his hands as it had spurted out, strip naked, rub it all over himself, feel her on his skin.
But he hadn’t. He had to be disciplined about this hunt. Focused on his objective. He had no time to ingest the spirit.
Or did he . . . He looked down at the small, kicking baby he had cut out of her. Birthed in blood, its midwife a blade and a dying host. He smiled. There was the spirit, the life force from within her. He was taking that instead.
He took out the blanket he had prepared, wrapped the baby up, put it in his rucksack.
Left the house, closing the door behind him.
He walked down the street feeling like a god amongst mortals.
No one saw him go.
48
The door of the observation room opened and Anni Hepburn rushed in. Marina reluctantly took her attention away from the mirror.
‘I think Phil needs help,’ she said.
‘Never mind that,’ said Anni. ‘He can handle himself. We’ve got something. Ryan Brotherton used prostitutes. He knew Susie Evans. And Sophie Gale. That’s how they met. He’s known her for years. She’s also told us that Brotherton was out on Wednesday night. The night Claire and Julie were murdered.’ She looked at the screen, took in the standoff that was taking place. ‘Tell Phil. Now.’
‘Ask him about prostitutes.’ Marina’s voice was loud and sharp in Phil’s ear.
‘What?’
‘It’ll calm him down, wrong-foot him. Anything. Just ask him. Now!’
‘What about the prostitutes, Ryan?’
The big man was close to hyperventilating. The uniformed officer ready to intercede.
Phil raised his voice. ‘Prostitutes, Ryan. You ever used them?’
Brotherton’s head jerked suddenly upwards. He stopped in his tracks. ‘What? What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘Come on, Ryan.You hate women that much, sometimes it’s easier to pay to vent your frustrations, isn’t it?’
‘No.’ He sounded disgusted. His eyes went away to the left. Lying.
‘He knew Susie Evans,’ said Marina in his ear. ‘Was a customer of hers. That’s how he met Sophie Gale. They worked together. And she’s also told us he was out on Wednesday night.’
Phil tried not to let his emotions show. He kept his face as blank as possible. ‘Sit down, Ryan. Let’s talk.’
Phil sat down. Brotherton, getting his breath back, did likewise.
‘Now,’ said Phil. ‘You sure? You’ve never used prostitutes?’
‘No. Never.’ Eyes again to the left. Another lie. ‘I don’t have to pay for sex. I don’t need to.’
‘Might not just be for sex, though, might it?’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘You know what I mean, Ryan. You like beating up women. Sometimes the women in your life don’t like it and walk out. Or testify against you and get you banged up. So you need an outlet. A bit of release. Would have thought prostitutes would fill the bill nicely.’
‘You’d have thought wrong.’ His voice sounded weak.
Phil sat back, regarding him again. ‘I don’t believe you, Ryan. You see, I’m good at my job. I sit here and I listen to people sitting where you are. They want me to believe what they’re telling me. And most of them are liars. Some of them are very good. Some of them I nearly believe.’ He folded his arms. ‘But not you, Ryan. I know you’re lying.’
‘Prove it.’ Brotherton aimed for defiance in his voice, missed.
‘Okay,’ said Phil.
Anni Hepburn had just left the observation room to return to questioning Sophie Gale when the door opened again and an out-of-breath Ben Fenwick entered. Marina took her attention from Phil, looked at him. She had never seen him so dishevelled yet so elated. He looked wired.
‘Let me in,’ he said, making for the desk.
Marina moved aside, let him take over the microphone. Fenwick took a few seconds to regain his breath before he spoke. While waiting, he turned to Marina.
‘How’s he doing?’
‘Good,’ she said. She didn’t want to commit herself to anything else. Especially after the way Fenwick had spoken to her earlier. She didn’t want to tell him that it looked like Phil was about to crack Brotherton, that he was homing in for the kill. That Fenwick had been right and she had been wrong.
Fenwick smiled. It was the kind of glassy-eyed leer a coked-up City trader would give. ‘Well he’s going to be even better after I tell him this.’ He opened the channel, spoke into the mic. ‘Phil? Ben Fenwick.’
Marina watched Phil’s expression through the mirror. His head jerked upwards and he stopped talking immediately. He didn’t reply but they knew he was listening.
‘The Birdies have been singing.’ Fenwick laughed at his own joke.
Technically, thought Marina, now irritated with the man, the Birdies had been making other people sing.
‘They’ve gone through the records of the estate agency Lisa King worked for. Guess what? Brotherton was registered with them. He looked at houses through them. Lisa King’s name comes up a couple of times as showing him round some properties. Phil, we’ve got the bastard!’
Fenwick turned to Marina, a leering smile on his face. ‘Police work,’ he said.
In the interview room, Phil once agai
n did his best not to respond. Instead he leaned back, regarding Brotherton quizzically. Brotherton looked down at the table, clearly scared.
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