The Essence of Evil

by The Essence of Evil (retail) (epub)

‘I don’t want to!’ I scream, jumping up from my chair.

  I swipe my arm across the table and the plastic counters clatter to the ground. I glare over at McNair who hasn’t even flinched. I wonder again if she’s really there at all.

  ‘Dani, sit down!’ Greg says, not shouting, but I can tell for once he’s losing his cool with me. His response only fires me up further. I heave and upend the table and it crashes against Greg’s legs. He squirms back in shock as two burly porters rush towards me.

  My brain is acting on pure instinct now. This anger, the outbursts, it’s like a survival mode. I wish there was an off button for it, but so far I've not found one.

  I know the nurses and doctors here don’t want to hurt me; that I’m not a prisoner, no matter how much I feel like I am sometimes. They just want to help me. To protect me. Yet somehow as the porters come forwards, I find myself swinging back my arm and balling my fist. I throw a punch into the first man’s face and he clatters to the ground, but seconds later the other man has me restrained, pinning my arms. I’m kicking, screaming, writhing. I just want them to get off me, but the more I protest, the harder their response, and the more I protest. It’s a vicious cycle my brain won’t allow me to break.

  Out of the corner of my eye I spot McNair. She slowly, calmly, turns and walks away. The staff struggle to contain me as I continue to rage. After a couple of minutes of grappling there are three men pinning me to the ground as I continue to buck and twist and shout. A nurse hovers over me. I feel the pinch as the needle is pressed into my flesh. I feel the cold liquid surging through my veins.

  A few seconds later I’m genuinely relieved when a sense of calm washes over me and my eyes draw shut.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Thursday morning was grey and grim. Dani couldn’t help but think of her time in hospital, of that visit from McNair, of all the pain and anguish she’d been through, as she headed into the office for the early morning team briefing that she’d set up. It wasn’t the thought of the briefing that had her mind turning over, but the appointment to visit Ben that she’d be heading to soon after.

  At two minutes to nine the dated blue conference room was already full, with more than ten officers clustered around the worn pine furniture. Dani vaguely recognised most of them but couldn’t yet remember all of the names of the more junior staff, particularly those from other departments. Easton was already there, as was Fletcher. McNair wasn’t, Dani was relieved to see. Although she'd sent her boss an invite, she was well aware that the DCI had an early morning meeting over in Harborne, which Dani had somewhat deliberately double-booked against.

  As she closed the door behind her, the room fell into a hushed silence, like it would at school on the first day of term, when a new teacher walked in to start a class. Dani could feel eyes on her. Could almost hear the questioning thoughts, everyone still wary of the copper back from the dead.

  ‘Morning all,’ Dani said. ‘We’ll be ready in a minute.’

  She smiled and got some murmured responses in return. Fletcher was standing on her own at the front of the room, cleaning a whiteboard. Dani headed over to her.

  ‘You're leading this?’ Fletcher asked quietly.

  ‘I'm happy to.’

  ‘Makes sense. I think you're probably more into the detail than I am at this stage.’

  Which Dani would agree with, even if Fletcher’s acknowledgement surprised her.

  She got the meeting underway. First, she went over the events of the last three days, from Natalya’s murder scene, to Reeve’s murder and the drugs found in his apartment, to the information given by Rebecca and Laura and the link to Grace Agnew.

  ‘Where are we at with house-to-house for Natalya’s murder?’ Dani asked when she was done with her initial regurgitation.

  ‘All done, ma’am,’ said a smartly dressed DC with designer slicked back hair. DC Constable, the same officer who’d been with Easton at Paul Reeve’s murder scene. ‘We went to every house over three streets. We’ve been back since to cover ones who were out. Still a few to go where the residents must be away, but other than the Mondys, we’ve got nothing new.’

  ‘And cameras?’

  ‘Again, we’ve covered them all off now. Nothing new.’

  ‘But we had Natalya on one less than half a mile away? We used the image for the press con?’

  ‘It’s a mainly residential area,’ Easton said. ‘There really aren’t that many cameras about unless we go out further, but would Natalya really have been running for miles?’

  ‘Probably not,’ Dani conceded, though she thought she might come back to it.

  ‘I’ve no idea how the killer escaped the one Natalya was caught on, but he did,’ Easton said.

  ‘And that one camera doesn’t give a clue as to where she came from?’

  ‘We’re still looking into it, but on the face of it, no.’

  Dani sighed.

  ‘And who’s working on formally IDing Natalya?’

  A female officer at the back of the room stuck her hand up. ‘No real luck yet, ma’am. We found no ID at the address taken from Rebecca Hargreaves and Laura Finlay, and no correspondence for our vic, or anyone else for that matter. All utility bills were paid by the landlord who… well, he’s a bit dodgy. Took cash, no questions. He couldn't give us anything useful on Natalya.’

  ‘No ID at all at her home? Any evidence that the place was deliberately cleared?’

  ‘No. Sorry.’

  ‘But he did acknowledge that someone by that name had been staying there?’

  ‘Kind of, but he really was pretty vague even about that.’

  Dani thought about that for a moment. She didn’t like the sound of the situation at all. Was the guy just a dodgy landlord or was he a potential suspect?’

  ‘Bring him in for formal questioning. Find something to caution him with if you need to. Firstly, I want to clear him off as a suspect.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘And Mrs Staunton. Have we cleared up what happened to her?’

  ‘Still waiting for forensics results,’ Easton said. ‘Maybe we’ll have something today.’

  Dani sighed. Other than her relaying to the team her own thoughts and findings, there really wasn’t much else to go on. She spent a couple of minutes dishing out further responsibilities. Largely casting the net of enquiries and CCTV searches a little further. Then she was done. She needed to go anyway.

  ‘Are there any further points before we wrap up? Dani asked.

  ‘So we really are looking for a serial killer now, do you think?’ piped up one of the young DCs. DC Grayling.

  ‘No,’ Dani said. ‘We are not toeing that line, either internally or externally. Not officially. But it’s becoming quite clear these two murder cases are closely linked, and we can’t rule out that possibility.’

  There were a few murmurs from the room. Dani was aware that Fletcher was staring at her but she didn’t bother to look. Her answer this time certainly wasn’t as inflammatory as at the press conference, but would McNair still have disapproved?

  ‘Anything else?’

  No one raised their hand this time, and Dani called the meeting to a close. After a quick and largely pointless further debrief with Fletcher and Easton, Dani was soon back in her car, whatever insecurities and aggravations she was feeling about her role in the force well and truly sidelined, and her anxiety levels peaked despite the tablets she’d taken before leaving the house earlier that morning.

  When she reached the junction for the M42 she went right over, continuing south on the A435 towards Evesham. She knew the area south of Birmingham relatively well. There were many picturesque towns there that she’d been to over the years. She remembered relaxing Sunday morning strolls with her parents and her brother when she’d been a child, the odd weekend escape to a luxury hotel with Jason.

  No, thinking about those times wasn’t going to make her much happier right now.

  But wasn’t it a little ironic it was in that area
, much loved by her family all those years ago, that Ben, her twin, would likely spend the rest of his life?

  Dani might have known the area generally, but she’d never before been to her destination; HM Prison Long Lartin – a category A prison in a somewhat unusual village setting, where all manner of violent or otherwise highly dangerous prisoners were incarcerated; rapists, murderers, drug dealers, terrorists. Her brother.

  When she reached the security gate at the perimeter of the prison complex, Dani explained who she was and was let through into the small visitor’s parking area. The prison from here looked like nothing more than a 1970s low-rise office, with blocky features and slabs of concrete interspersed with red brick and blue painted panels.

  Dani made her way to the visitor’s entrance, pushed open the left of the double doors and moved into line behind two others who were queuing in front of the glass-fronted reception desk. She noticed there were already more than a dozen people crammed into the waiting area, eagerly awaiting the chance to spend some not-such-quality time with their not-so-good loved ones. There were children among the visitors too. They were the ones Dani felt sorry for. But then she wondered again about Harry and Chloe. Did they deserve the chance to come here to see their dad?

  When it was her turn Dani walked up to the reception desk and smiled at the uniformed prison officer who was sitting on the other side. He had a grey-stubbled face and droopy eyes that gave him an overall unkempt and tired appearance. Perhaps that was the toll his job had taken on him.

  ‘Morning,’ Dani said.

  ‘Morning,’ the officer said in return, though the greeting was somewhat forced and his tone was coarse, his face serious.

  Dani explained who she was and the officer, whose name tag gave his surname as Abbott, began a long search on his computer.

  ‘Yes, that’s fine, Miss Stephens,’ Abbott said when he’d finished. ‘When the masses get called through you’ll need to wait here. The Deputy Governor will collect you separately.’

  ‘Oh, right, yeah ok,’ Dani said. Abbott turned to the next visitor in line behind Dani, and she realised she’d get no more explanation from him as to what he meant.

  She turned and moved to the four blue plastic chairs that were bolted to the ground underneath a large corkboard, taking the one free chair. Various pamphlets and posters were pinned to the board, mostly outlining in no uncertain terms the dos and don’ts of prisoner visits. Don’t bring drugs or alcohol. No knives or guns. Did people really need to be reminded of that?

  After scanning much of the board Dani’s eyes focused in on a leaflet discussing mental health.

  How apt.

  When the clock in the waiting area edged past ten fifty-eight, a set of double doors at the far end opened and two uniformed guards came out and began giving heavy-toned instructions to the crowd of people. The guards weren’t quite talking to the visitors like they were the scum of the earth, but it wasn’t far off. The crowd was quickly shepherded through the doors into the inner sanctum, one guard taking the lead. Soon Dani was the only visitor remaining on the outside.

  ‘Miss, are you coming or not?’ the second guard said, staring at Dani suspiciously. ‘Last chance.’

  ‘I’ve been told to wait for the Deputy Governor.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ the guard said, shaking his head as though she were a moron.

  He turned and walked through the double doors and they closed behind him, leaving Dani alone. Well, Abbott was there too, but he wasn’t exactly the best company.

  It was nearly eleven-fifteen by the time a woman emerged from a different set of doors. Grey suit. Grey hair. Pale skin. She looked like she’d been put through the washing machine on a too hot setting several times over. When she smiled, however, there was a certain warmth to her face – a contrast to Abbott’s dour expression for sure. Dani got to her feet and the woman stretched out a hand.

  ‘Miss Stephens?’ the woman said. ‘I’m Anne Cartwright, the Deputy Governor. Please, come this way.’

  ‘Is there a problem?’ Dani asked, as she set off in tow.

  ‘Not exactly.’

  Cartwright led Dani back the way she’d come, down a short corridor, and soon they were standing in a dreary and dated office that was sparsely furnished and, like the outside of the building, looked like a snapshot of the 1970s, save for the sleek laptop computer on top of the roughed-up desk.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Dani asked.

  ‘No, of course not. I just didn't want to have this conversation with you out there. Some visitors feel uncomfortable with that. You have to appreciate, Miss Stephens, that your brother is among the most high risk and high profile prisoners here. Access to him is heavily restricted, and we won’t allow him to be in the visiting hall with the general masses. I hope you understand that?’

  ‘Has he done something in here to warrant that?’ Dani said, though she wasn’t quite sure why she felt the need to stick up for Ben. They could do what the hell they wanted to him.

  ‘Not at all. This is how we treat all of our highest risk inmates. You’ll see Ben in a private room. You can speak to him alone, if you wish, with someone watching from outside, or you can have a prison officer in the room with you. It’s up to you.’

  ‘I’d rather speak to him alone,’ Dani said, though she wondered if there was really much difference if someone was watching on a screen or through a one-way mirror.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Cartwright said. ‘We’ll need to do some formalities first, and then you can see him.’

  The ‘formalities’ took another twenty minutes. Dani’s ID was checked. A full body search was conducted. They checked her jewellery over too, apparently looking for any signs that a key was somehow forged into it. Her pockets were emptied; they checked her shoes. They took a photo of her face, took her fingerprints. She was read a long list of what she could and couldn’t take into the room, and of things she could and couldn’t do when seeing her own brother.

  Hands to be seen at all times. Remain fully clothed at all times. Don’t sit on the prisoner’s lap. No passing of contraband.

  Really? She thought, sarcastically; but what about the weed I brought?

  When it was finally over Dani was escorted through corridors and metal-barred doors until finally they arrived outside the interview room. Dani paused. She pushed away the wave of nausea as best she could. Cartwright turned.

  ‘Are you ok?’

  ‘I'm fine.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Let's continue, please.’

  Cartwright didn’t look convinced but she turned to the officer by the door, who unlocked and opened it, and ushered Dani inside.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The interview room was much like the ones Dani had been to in countless police stations and prisons in different locations over many years. Ben was already in there, sitting down on one of two chairs in the room, wearing the standard prison garb of blue jogging bottoms and blue jumper. His hands, cuffed together, were on top of the small table in the middle of the room. He looked up at Dani and smiled awkwardly. She couldn’t read what the expression meant. Was it friendly? Or was it calculated and knowing? Taunting, even? Again Dani’s mind took her back to the hospital and all of the stories she’d read about Ben’s crimes and his trial. Diminished responsibility? Yeah right. At least the jury hadn’t bought that crap.

  The officer who’d shown Dani in waited for her to take her seat and then promptly left, shutting and locking the thick door behind him.

  ‘Well isn’t this nice,’ Ben said, breaking the silence.

  Dani didn’t say anything, just stared at him. This was her brother, the same person she’d grown up with, yet he looked so different. There was a coldness to his manner that set this man apart from the one she’d known for so long. His skin was paler too, more creased, his hair lighter, his eyes a dull grey. It was like all of the goodness and colour and vitality had been sucked right out of him.

  Had prison done that to him, or was this just the man who’d always
been beneath the mask?

  As kids the two of them had naturally spent a lot of time together. Not friends exactly – they’d often fought, like many siblings did – but their blood bond had always kept them close. Even as young adults they’d continued to mix in the same crowds. Ben had eventually married Dani’s best friend. Alice.

  God, poor Alice. He’d killed her. Throttled her to death on their own bed. His first victim. Not his last.

  Dani felt a wave of nausea, but she fought against it and it quickly went away. In its place came a rush of memories as she stared at Ben. Some good, many bad.

  ‘You came all this way and you’re not even going to speak to me?’ Ben said.

  But in those first few moments, Dani really didn’t know what to say. She noticed him stare up at her scar, but he didn’t say anything. She didn’t react at all. In fact, she almost felt frozen, though her brain was busy, wondering what he was thinking.

  ‘How are the kids?’ Ben asked. He shook his head, looking distressed, almost, for a fleeting second. ‘I miss them so much.’

  ‘They’re fine,’ Dani said. ‘Though I’ve not seen them that much recently.’ Again, she felt bad. Those kids hadn’t deserved any of what had happened. She really should have done everything she could for them. She had no sensible reason for not having seen them more often, other than that she was a selfish cow. Oh yeah, and because for the last two years she’d been suffering the after-effects of brain damage, thanks to Ben.

  ‘Why haven’t you been seeing them?’ Ben asked. ‘They always loved you so much.’

  Dani clenched her teeth before answering. ‘It’s not been easy for me, Ben. But I do see them when I can. I saw them the other day in fact. That’s partly why I came. Harry was asking after you.’

  ‘He was?’

  Ben’s face brightened slightly.

  ‘I’ll be there for them,’ Dani said. ‘Gemma too.’

  The brightness faded at the mention of Gemma, Ben’s second wife. He’d tried to kill her too, the same night he’d tried to kill Dani. Apparently he blamed Gemma and Dani for everything. Despite his best efforts, both of them had lived.