‘They never come to see me,’ Ben said.
‘Are you in any way surprised by that?’
‘I’m still their dad.’
‘And you still killed your son’s mother, and tried to kill your daughter’s mother too.’
Ben gave her a hard stare and Dani matched the look. He broke eye contact first.
‘I know you wouldn’t come here just for a social visit,’ he said. ‘So come on, spit it out, what’s on your mind?’
‘Nothing’s on my mind. I thought it might help me to see you. To discuss what happened. My therapist seemed to agree.’
‘You’re still seeing a therapist?’ Ben said, smirking as though he was impressed with the havoc he’d caused.
Dani didn’t understand quite what he meant by ‘still’. She hadn’t been to visit him before so he knew nothing of the rehabilitation she’d endured over the last two years.
When she didn’t respond to his taunt, Ben carried on: ‘I don’t buy it. Not Dani the super-detective. I saw you on TV the other night, you know. Life just carries on as before for you, doesn’t it?’
Dani just scoffed at that. If only he knew.
‘You’re searching for a murderer, right?’
‘Yes. We are,’ Dani said.
‘So what? You’ve got a mysterious killer on your hands and you’re all stuck for answers so you thought you’d come and speak to me to see if I can help you in some way? I’m flattered, really. This is all a bit Hannibal Lecter, isn’t it?’
Ben did a mocking impression of Lecter, sucking through his teeth. Dani had to admit, he actually did a pretty good job, but she showed no reaction. And was she there as a detective, or as his sister? Even she wasn’t fully sure of the answer to that one.
‘Priceless,’ he said, his smile wide now. ‘You coming to me to help catch a killer.’
‘That’s not why I’m here. I told you why I came. For me. And anyway, I hardly think you’re an expert on the subject of murder. After all, you failed. I caught you and helped put you in here.’
Ben huffed. ‘Yeah. You did, didn’t you? I’m not sure I’ve ever properly thanked you for that.’
‘No need.’
‘So that’s it, then. You don’t need my help. You’ve got no update on how my wife and kids are getting along—’
‘Your second wife. Your first one is dead, remember?’
‘Yeah. I remember,’ he said, his eyes narrowing.
‘To tell you the truth, Ben, I wasn’t sure about this. Until a couple of days ago I never planned to see you again. I didn’t think there was anything in the world you could possibly say to me that would help. And sitting here now, I still think that’s the case.’
‘Seems like you’ve wasted your time then, Detective.’
Dani shook her head. ‘Actually, I’m not so sure about that.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Maybe this is worthwhile. The thing is… look at you.’
She said the words with genuine disdain. She noticed him clench his jaw, holding back a response.
‘You’ve caused me so much pain,’ she said. ‘Have caused others so much pain. But you, in here, you can’t hurt me anymore. You’re nothing.’
She got up to leave.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Ben said through gritted teeth.
‘Bye, Ben.’
She turned but then jumped when Ben thumped onto the table.
‘Sit down, right now!’ he shouted.
Dani turned back to him then flinched when Ben lurched forwards towards her. The chain on his cuffs caught and held him back. He snarled and tugged on his restraints.
‘You stupid bitch. Who the hell do you think you are?’
The door to the interview room burst open and two uniformed guards rushed in, grabbed Ben and tried their best to pull him back. Ben roared and started twisting and writhing.
Dani looked on in shock. She’d seen plenty of people act batshit crazy before, but to see it in her own brother… where was it coming from?
She took a step back, closer to the door. Then another. Ben locked eyes with her.
‘Dani, don’t go!’ he said, writhing around, trying to shove the guards off him, but his voice now sounded more panicked than angry. ‘Please!’
Dani realised she was shaking. She simply didn’t know what to say or do.
‘Get out of here!’ one of the guards shouted over to her, just as the other one pulled out a baton and swiped it down across Ben’s back.
‘Dani, help me!’
‘Go!’
Dani didn’t need to be told another time. Her legs feeling like jelly, her head a jumbled mess, she darted out through the open door.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dani headed to her car, her legs wobbling underneath her. She sat down in the driver’s seat, closed her eyes and let out a huge sigh.
It took a few minutes to fully regain focus, to push thoughts of Ben to the back of her mind, before she felt ready to move on. What worried her most was that she could see so much of herself in Ben. She had thought – or was it hoped? – that her short and often irrational temper, and her occasional violent outbursts, were a result of the TBI. But was that just wishful thinking? Were sister and brother in fact both defective in the same way? Was there some problem in their DNA?
That was the idea that scared her more than anything.
As kids, as twins, they hadn’t just been siblings but rivals. Everything was a competition between them; whether consciously or not, they fought over who was the best, the fittest, the strongest, the cleverest, the kindest, whatever. Somehow Dani, a true tomboy back then, had invariably come out on top, much to her brother’s general disgruntlement.
Over the years that feeling of inferiority in Ben had gradually worn at their relationship, which had culminated in a period, immediately after their mother had died, where brother and sister fell out of touch completely.
But was all of that the reason Ben had flipped and done the horrendous things he had? Simple jealousy and pent-up anger from a lifetime of playing second fiddle to his sister? Did he consider himself a failure, even though he’d had a spouse and a family while Dani had been too career-focused to have ever settled down?
If that was Ben’s only trigger, then there must still have been something inside him to make him capable of the acts he committed, and to allow him to rationalise breaking societal rules so flippantly. Not every jealous sibling goes on a murderous rampage. So did Dani, deep down, share those same killer traits as Ben? And was it simply circumstance which had meant that thus far in her life those traits had been buried beneath the surface?
Trying to take her mind off those depressing and worrying thoughts, Dani checked her phone. She had a missed call and a voicemail. She listened to the message from McNair. Her boss had briefed DCI Fairclough from the Organised Crime team on the deaths of Natalya and Paul Reeve, given Reeve’s clear link with the drug world. For now the Homicide team still had the lead, but it could be that Fairclough would soon take over.
Was the explanation for Reeve’s and Natalya’s deaths really as simple as gangland violence? Perhaps it was, though Dani felt there was something bigger and more sinister at play. After all, Reeve was connected to the missing Grace Agnew too.
Either way, she wasn’t impressed that the investigation was slipping from her grasp.
Despite the turmoil in her mind, Dani decided to head straight back to HQ. She could have called McNair back, to air her concerns about Fairclough’s involvement, but she’d rather have the conversation in person. She arrived just before one p.m. When she stepped from her car she realised she was still shaky from the abrupt end to the meeting with Ben, but as she walked it subsided and she managed to calm her still swirling thoughts.
Did she feel better for having seen her brother? In a way, yes. She’d meant what she said to him. Seeing him in that place, if only for a few minutes, had helped reaffirm that he really couldn’t hurt her anymore. But then the way
he’d flipped so easily at the end… that crazed man simply didn’t tally with the one she’d known for so many years.
She remained terrified that the same demons that tormented Ben were also now inside her. Over the last two years it had certainly seemed that way. How many times had her brain felt ready to explode, had she been on the brink of losing control? Scratch that, how many times had she lost control?
As Dani headed through into the open-plan space of Force CID the place was bustling, not with work but with chatter. Which likely meant McNair wasn’t around after all. There was a group of five guys standing by Easton’s desk chatting and smiling and being a bit… laddish. Easton was among them, along with DC Constable – his best chum, it seemed – and three others Dani hadn’t seen before. They looked to be in their early twenties so most likely were constables or sergeants from one of the other divisions.
Dani headed towards her recently acquired desk, the second to last space in the far corner of the room. She’d previously had one of the best positioned desks, over by the windows. She greeted the group of men in passing. Easton said hi; the others smiled and smirked. She did see that right, didn’t she? She heard a snippet of what they were talking about as she moved away. Murderer. Maniac. Tried to kill her. Now in the clink. Gone mental.
Dani took her seat and glared over at Easton. He caught her eye and somewhat nervously stepped away from the group and came over to Dani.
‘Post lunch gossiping, DS Easton?’ Dani said.
Her harsh tone drew stares from the other men and their conversation suddenly became more hushed.
‘A possible lead actually,’ Easton said, his face creasing slightly at her coldness, though as ever he didn’t bring her up on it.
‘Yeah?’ Dani said, her ears pricking up.
‘Do you remember Professor Steven Grant?’
‘Should I?’
Easton glanced over his shoulder towards his chums, then back to Dani.
‘Seems his son, Ethan, was arrested last night.’
‘For what?’
‘Driving pissed. He was also found with a pretty big bag of weed on him. They let him out this morning on bail.’
‘Ok, am I missing the point here?’
‘You really don’t remember Professor Grant?’
‘No.’
‘I mean, I was only a little kid back then, but I still remember the news headlines. You’ve heard of the Southwell Slicer, haven’t you?’
Dani rolled her eyes at the ridiculous name. Why did the tabloids always have to do that? They’d tried the same with Ben too. The Barmy Brummy was the closest moniker that almost stuck, making him sound more like some loony character from a crappy 1970s British comedy than the vile killer that he was.
But as Dani properly digested the words, she realised she did know what Easton was talking about.
‘Grant was his last victim,’ Easton said, filling in the blanks. ‘He was abducted and held in a remote barn for weeks before the police found him. He was the only victim to escape.’
Dani looked back over at the gaggle of men. So had the snippets she’d overheard been about Grant and the Southwell Slicer? Or had they been comparing Grant’s fate to Dani’s? Whatever. She had to expect a certain level of chatter about her past. It was more the tone they had used, the smiles and sniggering, that riled her. Did they know she’d just come from the prison?
‘Grant was already a doctor of criminology back then,’ Easton said. ‘Apparently the Slicer targeted him for that very reason: because Grant was helping the police with their enquiries.’
‘And then afterwards Grant wrote a book all about it,’ Dani said. She’d even tried to read it at one time, but had given up halfway through. She had enough of death during her day job.
‘And there was a documentary,’ Easton said ‘Very nearly a Hollywood movie too, apparently.’
‘So what has all of this got to do with our case?’
‘It seems Grant junior, Ethan, was friends with Paul Reeve. I’ve got a list of contacts from Reeve’s phone and Ethan is on there. He was on our list of people to talk to anyway. Then he got himself nabbed last night.’
‘But he’s now been released?’
‘Yeah. Apparently we weren’t too connected there.’
‘You mean the lines of gossip didn’t quite stretch down as far as the local nick? Shock horror, DS Easton. Do we know where Ethan Grant is now?’
‘No. But we have his home address.’
‘Ok. Well, if he was on our list anyway, then we’ll go to him first. Any idea where Fletcher and McNair are?’
‘No.’
Dani rolled her eyes for the second time in a few minutes.
‘Let’s go then,’ she said.
She picked up a pad of paper and slipped it in her shoulder bag. Easton rushed over to his desk and grabbed what he needed. As Dani moved back over to the exit she felt as though the group of young men still had judging eyes on her. She stopped walking.
‘Don’t you lot have anything better to do?’ she snapped.
Silence.
‘Well?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ came the chorus of half-hearted replies, though none of the men hopped into action.
‘Then what are you bloody waiting for? Move!’
Dani stood there, glaring at them until they finally dispersed, then she stomped off.
‘That told them,’ Easton said, catching up with Dani, an amused grin on his face.
‘Easton, don’t act like you weren’t part of that too. If I see you and your mates having a laugh at my expense again, I’ll knock your damn head off. Understood?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘How many times have I told you, call me Dani.’
‘Yes, Dani. Look, we weren’t—’
‘I don’t want to hear it.’
‘Sorry, Dani. We were only saying how you and that professor had a lot in common.’
‘I said I don’t want to hear it.’
‘I was thinking, though, maybe that guy could help us. I mean, we’ve got two dead bodies, perhaps the same killer. Murder is Grant’s area of expertise.’
‘Yeah. And look what happened the last time he helped the police. He was abducted and nearly killed.’
‘And you were nearly killed too. But you still came back.’
‘True. And the moral of the story, Aaron, is that some people just don’t know when to quit.’
And that was about the most sense that Dani could make of it all.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
They took Easton’s Peugeot over to the Grants’ house in the upmarket village of Knowle, thoughts of Ben still swirling in Dani’s mind, particularly given the history of the family they were about to speak to. Steven Grant too had nearly lost his life at the hands of a deranged killer. Had he ever truly recovered?
The street the Grants lived on was a quiet cul-de-sac with a multitude of individually designed detached houses. None were overly extravagant – the street wasn’t filled with footballers or mega-millionaires – but the homes were, in the main, handsome and well-appointed with large front drives and wide and deep plots.
Easton pulled up outside the gates to the Grants’ house and left the engine idling.
‘So Ethan Grant still lives at home with mum and dad?’ Dani said.
‘Well I’m not sure a nineteen-year-old could afford this type of place.’
‘Nor would a nineteen-year-old choose to buy a place like this even if they had the money. A city centre bachelor pad would be most likely.’
‘The police were called out here a couple of days ago.’
‘What for?’ Dani asked, wondering why Easton had only just chosen to tell her this.
‘Domestic incident. The lads were telling me this morning. A couple of PCs came out here following a 999 call. From over there.’
Easton pointed to the house opposite.
‘The call was anonymous but the house is being rented to an Ed Francis.’
‘Re
nted?’
Easton shrugged.
‘So what happened?’ Dani asked.
‘No arrests made. Seems the PCs believed Grant was beating up his wife initially. She’s got a right shiner, apparently. The Grants both denied it was the professor, claimed the disturbance was down to their son, but that they didn’t want to press charges. The PCs didn’t believe that to start with, but felt there wasn’t much else they could do. The son by then was nowhere to be seen.’
Easton had certainly been doing his homework. Even though she hadn’t said it to his face, she was becoming more and more impressed with his ongoing diligence.
‘Ok. Let’s see who’s home. Go up onto the drive.’
Easton drove through the already open gates and parked the car up on the gravel driveway. They stepped from the car and made their way to the wide front door of the house. Dani rang the bell then knocked and waited.
Nothing.
She heard Easton stepping back and crunching across the gravel. She turned and saw he was looking up and across the house for signs of life. He shrugged.
Dani rang and knocked again. They stood and waited but there was still silence from inside the house. Dani was about to turn to head back to the car when she heard the lock on the door release, the door opened and she was looking into the eyes of a woman.
‘Mrs Grant?’ Dani asked.
The woman looked Dani up and down. In her late forties or early fifties, she was about the same height as Dani with wavy blonde hair, blue eyes and a light dusting of make-up that didn’t do a very good job of hiding the black and purple flesh around her eye.
‘Yes, I’m Mrs Grant.’
‘I’m DI Stephens, and this is DS Easton, from West Midlands Police. Is your son, Ethan, home? We’d like to speak to him.’
‘What on earth has he done now?’
‘Is he home?’
‘No. He’s not. He doesn’t live here anymore.’
‘Oh,’ Dani said. She turned to Easton but he just looked back at her blankly.
‘This is the address he gave on his arrest forms,’ Easton said to Dani.
‘Arrest forms?’ Mrs Grant said. ‘Can you please tell me what’s going on here, detectives?’
The Essence of Evil Page 17