Killing for Keeps: A Kate Daniels Mystery (Kate Daniels Mysteries)

by Mari Hannah

  Angry that he’d dismissed her so abruptly, Kate told him off, pointing out that she might need the police one day and he’d done nothing to foster an opinion that they were in any way approachable. Hank winced and apologized for not picking up on the abuse angle she was still banging on about, grateful that the park was only a few minutes away and hoping their arrival would bring an end to his reprimand.

  Kate managed to squeeze her car into the only available space in the small car park. Most times, it wasn’t possible to get in there. People visiting sick relatives at the hospital opposite were charged inordinate amounts to park in the hospital’s own parking bays, so they often used the free one belonging to Paddy Freeman’s instead.

  Getting out of the car, the detectives followed the path to the water’s edge, turning right towards the play area. There were scores of folks milling around, many with kids. Vicky and Nathan were not among them.

  ‘Damn!’ Kate said. ‘We missed them.’

  ‘Unless they’re in the cafe.’ Hank pointed to the single-storey building behind them, a favourite stop-off point for hungry detectives passing to and fro. Good coffee and snacks never went amiss when they were working flat out. Officers grabbed what they could whenever they could. ‘You want me to check it out?’

  Kate nodded. ‘I’ll skirt the Dene. See if I can spot them. Bring me an ice cream.’

  Hank didn’t move. His attention was drawn to something over her shoulder. Kate turned to see what it was. Vicky was sitting alone at a picnic table in the shade of an overhanging tree, handing Nathan bread with which to feed the ducks. To the untrained eye, it was a happy scene replicated right across the park, except the girl was weeping.

  ‘You still want an ice cream?’ Hank asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘An ice cream. Still want one?’

  ‘It was for Nathan, you daft sod, not for me.’

  As he loped off in the direction of the cafe, Kate made her way over to mother and son. She sat down on the bench beside them and spoke without looking at the girl.

  ‘Vicky? How are you coping?’

  The girl sniffed. ‘He won’t settle. He misses his dad.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Kate said. ‘If it’s any consolation, he’ll stop fretting eventually. I’m not suggesting he’ll forget – you wouldn’t want that – but it’s true what they say: time is a great healer. I can see you’re heartbroken. In the coming months you’ll see beyond John’s death and remember the good times you had together.’

  ‘Thank you.’ It was almost a whisper.

  ‘You were helpful to me before,’ Kate said. ‘Now I need something more from you.’

  ‘I don’t have any more.’ The girl pulled a chunk of bread off a loaf and gave it to her son, who threw it at the ducks, hitting one of them on the head, making the rest squabble over it and the child squeal with delight.

  Kate stared straight ahead. On the field opposite, a few bare-chested young ’uns were kicking a ball around using their T-shirts as goal posts. One scored a goal and did a dance, emulating the professionals he’d probably seen at a match or on television. She swivelled round to face the young mother. ‘I want to reassure you we’re making headway with the enquiry. We already know who Theresa’s boyfriend is.’

  The girl gave herself away, her hand freezing in mid-air as she offered more bread to Nathan.

  ‘I’m not blind, Vicky. I can see you’re terrified of him,’ Kate said. ‘But I need to find him fast. He has no idea that you’re talking to us. How could he? I need answers because, believe me when I say that there are things about this case that make McKenzie seem like a really nice guy. I want to make sure you and Nathan are safe. Do you understand?’

  ‘I can’t help you.’

  ‘Vicky, look at me, please.’

  The girl turned her head away.

  ‘There’s always a nice way and a nasty way to deal with potential witnesses,’ Kate said, urging her to see sense. ‘Please don’t make this difficult for me, for yourself. For what it’s worth, I believe you are an innocent in all this. I think you had very little idea of what John was up to, am I right? Vicky, please look at me.’ When she didn’t respond, Kate tried again. ‘I happen to think you’re better than John and his kind. Isn’t it time to stop buggering about and tell me everything you know? I’m trying to keep you safe, can’t you see that?’

  She waited but still Vicky didn’t bite.

  Kate was losing patience. ‘Look, if you don’t help, I’m sorry to have to say it, but you’re on your own.’

  Silence.

  Hank was back.

  He handed Nathan a cornet.

  ‘Take him for a stroll,’ Kate said.

  ‘Boss?’ He raised an incredulous eyebrow. ‘Is this about before?’

  ‘Do it.’ Kate glanced at the boy’s mother, letting him know that they were halfway through a delicate subject. ‘Is that OK with you, Vicky?’

  Vicky nodded.

  ‘What if he cries?’ Hank was beginning to panic.

  ‘That’s what the ice cream was for,’ Kate said.

  Hank pushed the buggy away, muttering expletives under his breath.

  Kate smiled inwardly. Served him right for talking behind her back to Naylor. He’d think twice before doing it again. They were partners, and partners didn’t grass, no matter how well intentioned.

  It was time to stop teasing him and get down to serious business. She turned to face Vicky, taking something from her pocket. ‘I didn’t want to have to do this, but you forced my hand. I’m going to show you a photograph that you’ll never, ever forget. It’s John. Your John – or should I say, what’s left of him.’

  The girl looked horrified. Her imagination was obviously working overtime.

  Her comeback was emphatic: ‘I don’t want to see it.’

  ‘Makes two of us,’ Kate said. ‘I didn’t want to either. Now it’s the only image I see every time I close my eyes. You probably think I’m a cruel bitch. Well, here’s the thing, in my line of work you have to be cruel to be kind sometimes. My job isn’t only chasing villains, Vicky. A big part of it is protecting the public. I have good reason to believe that what happened to John may well happen to the man we’re searching for. As sad and awful as it sounds, John was collateral damage. I believe Arthur McKenzie is the real target.’

  At the mention of the name McKenzie, a flash of recognition crossed Vicky’s face, enough to convince Kate – not that there’d been much doubt in her mind – that he was indeed Theresa’s boyfriend. All the DCI needed now was a little cooperation from this frightened young woman and she’d be on her way.

  But things were rarely that simple.

  ‘Listen, McKenzie’s right to hide,’ Kate said. ‘I don’t give a shit what he has or hasn’t done. I just want to ask him some questions, find out what he knows – and, believe me, that’s plenty. For starters, he knows who did this. And that the reason they killed John and Terry was to get at him. I need a statement from him. Vicky? Are you listening? These are scary people I’m talking about. They won’t stop until they find McKenzie, and God help him when they do.’

  Kate wasn’t getting through.

  ‘You ever wonder why I didn’t ask you to ID John’s body?’

  Vicky’s eyes shifted from her lap to the DCI. ‘You said I wasn’t his next of kin.’

  ‘I lied. I was sparing you the heartache of finding out how bad it really was. I guarantee that when you see this photograph you’ll wish you’d cooperated before it came to this.’

  ‘I won’t look at it. You can’t make me.’

  She was weakening.

  Kate was running out of ideas. She gazed into the middle distance. Hank had been once round the lake and was now walking back towards her, chatting away to Nathan like a proud father. Vicky followed her gaze as the DCI kept her focus on the child, commenting on how much he resembled his dad.

  ‘So cute,’ she said. ‘I hope he gets the chance to break some hearts one day.’


  ‘Stop!’ Vicky stood up.

  ‘No, you need to hear this.’ Kate stuck the knife in and twisted it. ‘John and Terry were tortured to death. How long do you think you’ll last when they come for you? You’re in grave danger and so is Nathan.’ Hank pulled up right in front of them. Kate bent down, stroked the child’s hand and then glanced up at his mother. ‘How do you think these thugs are going to get you to talk? Ever thought about that?’

  Reality was sinking in. A sob left Vicky’s throat. Grabbing Nathan up in her arms, she held him close, terror in her eyes.

  ‘I can offer you both protection if you tell me where I can find McKenzie and Theresa. It’s entirely a matter for you. Look at Nathan. Look at him! You can’t afford to say nothing.’ Kate slid a card from her pocket and threw it on the picnic table. ‘Give me a call when you see sense.’

  27

  Her words had been necessarily harsh. Bereaved or not, the DCI was sick of dancing around Vicky Masters. The threat of showing her a photograph of her tortured boyfriend had been merely a ploy to get information, a tactic designed to scare her. Kate had no intention of carrying out the threat. In fact, the snap she’d taken from her pocket was of Jo. In the end, she’d wasted her time. The girl refused to cooperate.

  With the Murder Investigation Team assembled, Kate took the floor in the crowded incident room. There was much to discuss. Maxwell kicked things off; he had no further information about Terry’s antique ring, but on the plus side he had made a positive ID on Sky, a development Kate invited him to share with the others.

  ‘Sky’s real name is Bethany Miller.’ Maxwell could hardly look his colleagues in the eye. ‘She’s fifteen years old, from Barrow-in-Furness; an only child, according to the Cumbrian officer who visited her parents to break the news. They threw her out in January following an argument over money she’d spent on a bloody mobile phone. The parents are en route to the morgue to make a formal identification. It’s a given, unfortunately. She gave her real name and former address to the hospital that scanned her. Sounds like she had plans to go home and patch things up with her folks.’

  ‘If only she’d gone sooner,’ DS Robson said.

  The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.

  Kate cast her eyes around the room. The death of any child had a sobering effect on the team. She couldn’t afford to let their heads go down for a second. To avoid them dwelling on Bethany, she moved on, singling out Lisa Carmichael, who had news the DCI felt sure would lift morale. The nervous joyrider who’d been interviewed by Division had been invited into the station for further questioning. On Daniels’ say so, Lisa had informed him that they’d overlook the Driving Whilst Disqualified offence he’d committed in exchange for information that might assist with a more serious enquiry she was dealing with.

  ‘He responded to that,’ Lisa said. ‘He told me that the Range Rover he’d seen in the early hours of Friday morning had “shot out of Silverlink like a bullet”, crossing the roundabout on the wrong side of the road, heading straight for him.’

  ‘Go on,’ Kate said.

  ‘The driver and passenger apparently laughed as the kid swerved to avoid them, narrowly missing the offside of his car, nearly wrapping him round a lamppost in the process.’ Lisa Carmichael’s exuberant tone was an indication that there was more to tell – a potential leap forward that enthused everybody present. ‘That roundabout is well lit,’ she continued. ‘The lad got a good look at the idiots in the Range Rover, good enough to see that one of them was ginger.’

  The squad began to mutter among themselves. It was the first clue to the identity of one of the offenders they were seeking. Across the room, Bright raised an impressed eyebrow, congratulating Lisa on her contribution. She sat down, chuffed that the head of CID had been in attendance when she broke the news – knowing it wouldn’t be forgotten.

  Maxwell was pulling a face.

  For her part, Kate had enjoyed the exchange. Their former guv’nor had tipped Lisa for the top, as he had her years ago. No wonder: Lisa was both intelligent and conscientious, two attributes that went hand in hand. Without one, the other was useless. His endorsement was totally justified. The opinion of such a senior officer carried a lot of weight in Northumbria force. Right now though, Kate’s own wisdom was kicking in. Like the ball on a roulette wheel, something inside her head whizzed round and round and fell neatly into place on a winning number.

  Shutting her eyes, she dragged a memory up from the depths of her subconscious, a snippet of information she’d filed there long ago. She had no idea where it came from. Only that it was important. Scotland had the highest proportion of redheads in the UK. Around four out of every ten Scots carried the redhead gene.

  ‘Kate?’ Bright’s voice cut through her thoughts. ‘You want to carry on?’

  She dropped her head to one side. ‘Guv, what colour hair did Dougie O’Kane have?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Was he a redhead?’

  His answer came in a smile.

  This new snippet of information galvanized the Murder Investigation Team. They couldn’t yet prove it, but the consensus among them was that one or both of Dougie O’Kane’s sons was reaping revenge for their father’s death. Unless they were a mile wrong, Craig and Finn O’Kane were gunning for Arthur Ross McKenzie, taking out anyone and everyone who was stupid enough to get in their way.

  ‘Have you all got a copy of Andy’s report on the QC Club?’ Kate asked.

  Some detectives did, some didn’t.

  Instructing them to share, she stepped forward. ‘The last action I raised on there was to establish who it was that Terry was looking at as he left the premises. We think we know who it might be. I want the footage re-examined from that point on in order to ID as many clubbers as humanly possible, especially any that have red hair. For argument’s sake, let’s call this new action “Sequence of Events – QC”. Everyone clear on that?’

  There were nods of confirmation.

  ‘I want frame-by-frame photographs of every movement to run all the way round the incident room where you can all see them. I want times, names, the whole nine yards. Bearing in mind the fact that John and Terry left early, I appreciate that it’s a massive undertaking. It’s necessary though, and I’m confident you’re up for it. Whoever killed them – and possibly Bethany too – I honestly believe is in this club.’ She pointed at the murder wall, a frozen image of Terry Allen looking over his shoulder. ‘He’s bloody scared. In my humble opinion, he’s looking at the man or men who assaulted him six weeks earlier on the thirteenth of July.’

  The team agreed with her assessment.

  ‘If we’re on the right track, Craig and Finn O’Kane will be on that footage somewhere. Only a halfwit would risk chasing someone out of a club in full view of CCTV. A sophisticated prig would mingle, bide their time, walk out with a crowd. These people are professional criminals, organized and savvy.’

  ‘In that case, they would make straight for the nearest fire escape, wouldn’t they?’ The suggestion had come from Jo Soulsby.

  ‘We have it covered, Jo. Andy recovered CCTV from all exits.’ Kate could feel the excitement building in the room as she focused on Brown. ‘Same goes then,’ she said. ‘I want frame-by-frame shots running right up until the last man or woman out of the QC turns the key in the damned lock. Let’s get moving.’

  28

  Two hours later, Kate raised her head to a tap on her office door.

  ‘Got a minute?’ Jo walked in and sat down without waiting for an invitation. ‘You keeping out the way?’ She thumbed over her shoulder. ‘There’s a mass wallpapering project going on out there.’

  ‘How are they getting on?’

  ‘Wonderfully, by the looks.’

  Kate glanced at her watch: 20:10. ‘Thought you’d have been long gone. Can I help you with something?’

  ‘Other way round. I think I can help you.’ Stretching her legs out in front of her, Jo placed her hands loosely in her lap. ‘I just got
off the phone with the Scottish prison service. Arthur Ross McKenzie was apparently a model inmate at Shotts. He was moved for his own safety in 2007. I asked why not to another prison north of the border and met a brick wall, so I rang Acklington, the receiving prison, or HMP Northumberland as it’s now known. They told me that special permission was sought to move him south from the Scottish system. And guess what else? In the last few months of his sentence, he had a visitor.’

  ‘Theresa?’ It was an educated guess.

  Jo grinned. ‘And that’s not all—’

  ‘What did I tell you?’ Bright breezed in through the open door. ‘Theresa was always a piece of work. She’s been a pathological liar since the day she was born.’ He nodded a hello to Jo and then focused on his DCI, resenting the fact that the profiler had got to her before him. ‘What does she look like these days anyway? Still good enough to eat?’

  Kate made a face. ‘Depends how hungry you are, guv.’

  They all laughed.

  The good humour was welcome relief from the seriousness of the offences they were dealing with. It helped to displace the elephant in the room that seemed to appear each time these three were together. Before his wife died, Kate had supported her boss through some difficult times. The two had become very close. In a brief moment of weakness – Kate would say madness – he’d let it be known that he wanted more than a working relationship with her, altering the dynamic between them for ever. It was ridiculous on two counts. First, Kate had only ever seen him as a mentor and father figure. Second, she was still in love with Jo – a state of affairs that he was unaware of.

  When Bright had made a play for her, he’d been ignorant of her feelings for women – for Jo in particular. He’d taken the news on the chin, but there was a residual resentment over the relationship that hung like a dark cloud over them all. Kate regretted how the news had come out: an anonymous letter sent by an offender stirring up trouble. It wasn’t as if she’d plotted to make a fool out of her former guv’nor – although sometimes it felt like that. She’d merely been keeping her sexual preferences to herself, as she was fully entitled to do.