R3 Deity

by Steven Dunne

  Brook raised an eyebrow. ‘Read and Smee?’

  ‘The Chief assigned them to me to take over surveillance but I assume we’re scrapping that.’

  ‘We are. Reece won’t go back to Leopold Street now he knows we’re on to him. Clear it out and get a SOCO team in to go over the place.’

  ‘Already in motion, though SOCO are getting pretty stretched,’ said Gadd. ‘On the plus side, I got a batch number from some of the bottles of barley wine and whisky I picked up last night. We’ve traced them to a Cash and Carry in Nottingham that took a bulk order from an Oz Reece.’

  ‘Any details? Credit card? Address?’

  Gadd shook her head. ‘The clue’s in the name. We got a mobile number but it’s a dud.’

  ‘Cameras?’

  ‘Too long ago for film.’

  Brook nodded and went to sit on a desk at the back of the darkened Incident Room, trying to tune out the pounding in his head. Charlton came to sit next to him. He looked over at Brook’s bandaged head and grimaced when the odour of whisky hit his nostrils but he didn’t offer comment.

  Terri had gone for a walk around the centre of Derby. Brook had tried to persuade Charlton that Terri should stay and offer valuable insights into the teenage psyche but Charlton wasn’t to be swayed and Brook didn’t have the strength to argue.

  The whiteboard screen came to life at Noble’s bidding and the Deity film started. For four minutes the officers in the room watched spellbound, despite this being the second viewing for some. Brook immediately recognised Becky Blake from her photo. She was sitting in her bedroom. The picture was a little jumpy at first and it was hard to see what she was doing. Fortunately the picture improved and the bright lighting around her make-up table clearly showed Becky’s reflection in the mirror. She was sitting on her bed working on her laptop.

  Brook was unsure if she was aware that she was being filmed but, a moment later, something changed in her manner, and as a result she put the laptop aside and moved to stand in front of the mirror. He could see Becky was scantily clad and a second later she began to sway, gently at first, then with more rhythm and purpose. The dance ended with Becky allowing her slip to fall to the floor and she turned to stand naked, gazing directly out of the window at the camera. Luckily Charlton’s presence ensured the absence of ribaldry that might otherwise have accompanied this finale.

  The film ended abruptly and Rob Morton switched on the lights.

  Terri was right. First violence, then sex.

  ‘That’s Becky Blake,’ said Noble. ‘And that’s definitely her bedroom.’ Even Charlton’s presence couldn’t stop the few sly grins at the implication. ‘The film was shot from outside the house from the branch of a tree, and I’ve sent a Scientific Support van to do a quick sweep of the exterior but we’re not hopeful.’

  ‘The same film has also been uploaded on to YouTube and is getting hundreds of hits. It’s being recirculated on Twitter and probably linked in emails and texts,’ announced DC Cooper.

  ‘The switchboard says press and TV are clamouring for information,’ said Charlton. ‘If it’s viral, we can’t sit on this even if we wanted to, so for once, we get the media to help us.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Brook.

  ‘This second broadcast,’ said Charlton. ‘Is this supposed to be Russell Thomson filming again?’

  ‘It’s an assumption,’ said Brook. ‘But a fair one.’

  ‘Any sightings yet?’ asked Charlton.

  ‘Not one,’ replied Noble.

  ‘These kids are still in the country, presumably.’

  ‘Far as we know, sir,’ replied Noble. ‘But as yet we know nothing about their whereabouts once the party started. We got nothing from door-to-door around the Kennedy house. No cabs picked them up. There’s no relevant CCTV on the estate. No reports of suspicious vehicles or vans.’

  ‘We’re sure the students were at the party?’ said Charlton.

  ‘Adele and Becky were both seen walking up to the house. We assume Kyle was there because he lives there. No sighting of Russell but it doesn’t mean he wasn’t there.’

  ‘What about the house? Has SOCO found anything?’ Charlton again.

  ‘The blood and tissue on the plaster is still our best lead,’ said Noble. ‘The lab is doing DNA comparisons as we speak.’

  ‘Against what?’

  ‘We’ve got Kyle, Becky and Adele’s toothbrushes.’

  ‘But not Russell Thomson’s?’ queried Charlton.

  ‘No. One other thing,’ added Noble. ‘They found a few traces of white powder on the carpet.’

  ‘Drugs?’

  ‘Talcum powder.’

  ‘Talcum powder?’ echoed Brook.

  Noble shrugged. ‘No telling how long it’s been there.’

  ‘What would they use that for?’ Charlton asked.

  ‘Maybe one of them had nappy rash,’ offered a grinning Cooper. His mirth subsided quickly under Charlton’s glare.

  ‘Or maybe Len had damp feet six months ago,’ said Brook. ‘It’s meaningless without context.’ He looked at the screen. ‘Any chance of tracing these . . .’ he waved a hand in the air looking for the technical jargon.

  ‘Uploads?’ suggested Cooper. ‘Yes and no.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means they can identify the profile of a computer accessing a website via its Internet Protocol address,’ said Noble.

  ‘And trace any uploads to an actual physical address,’ continued Cooper.

  Brook narrowed his eyes. ‘I’m not sure what you just said but I’m sensing bad news.’

  ‘While you were in hospital we traced the first upload,’ said Charlton.

  ‘Elsie Shaw. An eighty-year-old widow who lives in Robincroft Road, Allestree,’ announced Cooper, gesturing at a blue pin in the map of Derby. ‘She had Broadband fitted so she could Skype her grandchildren in Canada. Unfortunately she didn’t secure her router.’

  ‘In English, please,’ said Brook.

  ‘With wireless technology, anybody with a modern laptop and a little knowledge can piggyback somebody else’s system,’ explained Noble.

  ‘Especially if they don’t need a password,’ added Cooper.

  ‘So the first Deity broadcast was uploaded to Deity from her address,’ said Brook slowly.

  ‘Right,’ said Noble.

  ‘But being wireless it could have been done from a house in the next street or even a car parked outside,’ added Cooper.

  ‘You went round there?’

  ‘In numbers,’ smiled Noble. ‘Poor old girl got quite a shock seeing six of our finest banging on her door.’

  ‘And how many of these unsecured routers are there?’

  ‘In Derby?’ said Cooper. ‘Hundreds, I would think. People don’t take internet security seriously enough.’

  ‘So Deity can pick and choose where to access the site,’ nodded Brook.

  ‘I thought we had all their laptops anyway?’ said Morton.

  ‘Doesn’t mean they don’t have another,’ said Noble.

  ‘Did we look at Thomson’s laptop yet?’ asked Brook.

  Cooper nodded. ‘Same as the others. Professionally wiped.’

  ‘On the plus side we do have the fruits of the Watson house,’ said Noble, indicating the photocopies of Adele’s diary and notebook on the array. ‘Her computer was wiped like the others but there’s some pretty strong stuff about Adam Rifkind and her father in the diary, as well as other things she wants to get off her chest. No direct clue to her whereabouts, but as to her intentions, there’s this on the last page of her diary.’ Noble held up the copy of the page containing just three words. time to die.

  ‘That’s a line from Blade Runner,’ said Gadd.

  ‘It is,’ said Noble. ‘And there’s a poster of the film on Russell Thomson’s bedroom wall. Another connection between Adele and Russell.’

  ‘It doesn’t mean they’re intent on suicide,’ said Brook.

  ‘All part of messing with our heads
,’ Charlton said heavily. ‘Let’s hope. Any prints?’

  ‘Her father’s, obviously. And another set that match all the other prints taken from Adele’s bedroom. Without her here for a match, we’re assuming they’re hers. We’re also ESDA testing the surface below the missing pages. See if we can read what was on them from the indentations.’

  ‘What about this website?’ said Charlton, pointing at the screen. ‘Can we close it down?’

  ‘The host server’s in this country, so yes, we can start the ball rolling,’ said Cooper.

  ‘The question is, do we want to?’ said Brook. ‘Like it or not, this site is our direct line to Adele Watson and the other students. It’s their mouthpiece. Ordinarily I would want to cut off their supply of publicity and maybe drive them into the open. However, she – they – have been very clever unloading the broadcasts to YouTube . . .’

  ‘So they can continue reaching their audience even if we close their site,’ Charlton finished. ‘You’re right, keep it open. What was this boyfriend’s reaction to the site?’

  ‘Rifkind? He didn’t even know it existed until we told him,’ said Cooper.

  ‘And do we believe him?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Brook. ‘He can’t be so stupid as to set up a website with his own credit card knowing it was going to be used like this. He’s getting nothing out of this except our scrutiny of his dubious sexual behaviour. Adele Watson played it beautifully. She gave him to us on a plate.’

  ‘You seem very sure this girl’s the ringleader, Inspector,’ said Charlton.

  ‘That’s because she’s the smartest, sir. She’s thoughtful and reflective, she’s a writer and a poet so she’s used to making things up. But she had two things wrong with her life – a boyfriend who used then dumped her, and a father, if you believe her diary, who lusted after her. And what happens after she vanishes? Her father’s been cautioned for obstruction and Rifkind is a suspect in her disappearance. He’s paid for the Deity website with a credit card to which she probably had access, and endorsed passport applications for two of the missing students.’

  ‘So as a suspect, he’s a bit obvious,’ Charlton commented.

  ‘I’m sure Adele knows that,’ said Brook. ‘She just wants to embarrass him.’

  ‘But the website was created months before they broke up,’ Cooper objected.

  Brook smiled at him. ‘That tells us how long this has been planned and that actually Adele was using Rifkind, not the other way round.’

  ‘Couldn’t somebody else have borrowed his credit card and set this up?’ muttered Charlton.

  Brook shrugged. ‘Who?’

  ‘Is Rifkind married?’

  ‘He is,’ said Noble. ‘His wife is Carly, a twenty-three-year-old former student – of Rifkind’s, I mean. She’s seven months’ pregnant with their first child.’

  ‘He likes ’em young,’ chipped in Cooper.

  ‘Sounds unlikely she’d be up for wrecking her husband’s life,’ said Charlton. ‘Unless she found out about the affair. Hell hath no fury and all that. Somebody should speak to her.’

  ‘Can’t hurt,’ said Brook unenthusiastically.

  ‘Did Rifkind deny endorsing the passport photographs?’ continued Morton.

  ‘No, why would he?’ said Noble. ‘He didn’t do anything wrong.’

  ‘Tell me we got something useful from the college today,’ said Charlton. ‘That was a lot of expensive manpower.’

  Noble smiled weakly at DS Morton who flicked open his notebook. ‘Fern Stretton, Becky Blake’s best friend, got a text from her before she disappeared. The next time you hear my name you’re going to be soooooooooo jealous.’ Morton grinned. ‘That’s ten Os, incidentally.’

  ‘Jealous of what?’ asked Charlton. ‘Becky’s sudden fame? Is that what this is about?’

  Brook smiled his agreement. ‘We can’t discount it.’

  ‘To kids now, in a world of instant celebrity, fame is everything,’ said Noble. ‘You’ve only got to watch some of the drooling vegetables auditioning for X Factor.’

  ‘And even the completely talentless can be king for a day if they get slagged off badly enough and it goes viral,’ agreed Cooper.

  Brook bowed to superior knowledge, if not vocabulary. He was lost when it came to young people and their tastes.

  ‘For the record, Fern texted back but got no reply,’ said Morton. ‘That was the day of the party. Fern says she hasn’t heard from her since and insists to anybody who’ll listen that she’s abroad somewhere. According to Becky’s mobile phone records, that was the last text or phone call she ever made. Kyle Kennedy also used his mobile for the last time on the night of the party. He made a call to Jake McKenzie the night before and sent a text to his mum in Chester on Friday to say he was fine. Then nothing.

  ‘Interestingly, Adele and Russell were even more extreme,’ continued Morton. ‘There was no record of any activity on their phones the day before the party – or since, obviously.’

  ‘They shut up shop on the Thursday?’ said Brook.

  ‘Right. We’re also checking all recent texts and calls for the four of them, against the list of known contacts – but so far we’ve seen nothing untoward.’

  ‘No common number texting or phoning all four?’ asked Cooper.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Strict radio silence,’ said Brook. ‘Clever. Maybe Russell Thomson’s her second-in-command. It would make sense. He had the DVD and he’s the one with the camcorder.’

  ‘And he arrived in Derby just before the website was set up,’ added Noble.

  ‘Good point. So what next?’ asked Charlton.

  ‘We’ve done all the heavy lifting for now,’ said Noble. ‘A blank on bins and grates around the house. We’ve interviewed most of the students and college staff. We can take a longer look at the parents and maybe re-interview.’

  ‘What about the fields?’ said Brook.

  ‘Fields?’ echoed Charlton.

  ‘If these kids left on foot, which looks likely, they would have taken the path at the back of the house.’ He indicated the large map on the wall. ‘There’s a large area to cover but they could have walked along the path round the back of the college.’

  ‘Or even gone across the fields through the woods,’ said Morton, pointing. ‘The A38 runs past. They could have been picked up from there.’

  Charlton nodded reluctantly. ‘That’s a lot of manpower. Check the A38 cameras first.’

  ‘Maybe they’re hiding in the woods,’ suggested Cooper. ‘Or even dead.’

  ‘Unlikely, Dave,’ said Noble. ‘Kids mess about in there. They would’ve been found by now.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Charlton testily. ‘Get uniform on it.’

  ‘Fingertip?’ asked Noble.

  Charlton glanced at Brook for help in protecting the budget.

  ‘Not without evidence of foul play,’ said Brook. ‘They’re not going to be there, dead or alive, but we need to have looked.’

  Charlton tried to hide his relief. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘What about Jake McKenzie and Wilson Woodrow?’ asked Brook.

  ‘Remind me,’ said Charlton.

  ‘McKenzie was one of the lads in the happy-slapping film,’ replied Noble. ‘He wasn’t in college today. Neither was Wilson Woodrow. We showed the first film to Rifkind. Woodrow was the boy who laid out Kyle Kennedy in the assault. Rifkind confirmed there was some kind of bust-up between all three of them in his lesson the day before the party. Woodrow made some homophobic comments and went for Kennedy, and Jake stepped in. We’ve got addresses.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Charlton. ‘I think we’ve got all we need for the press briefing.’ He eyed Brook’s bandaged head. ‘How are you feeling, Inspector?’

  ‘Actually, not so good.’ Brook groped for a chair and lowered himself gingerly into it.

  Charlton narrowed his eyes. ‘You took a heavy blow. Maybe it’s concussion.’

  ‘I’ll be okay.’


  ‘You’d better sit this one out. That bandage would be a distraction. Get some rest. DS Noble, fancy a bit of the lime-light?’ Noble’s ashen face told its own story but he managed to smile weakly. ‘Good.’ Charlton made to leave.

  ‘Sir?’ said Brook. ‘Can I have a word?’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘In private.’

  Charlton looked at his watch. ‘My office in half an hour,’ he said as he left.

  ‘Are you well enough to hear about Yvette Thomson, sir?’ said Noble sarcastically, brandishing a wad of papers.

  Brook smiled. ‘I’ll try to stay conscious.’

  ‘Bad news, sir. She’s Welsh.’ Brook raised a disapproving eyebrow at Noble. ‘Born 1978 so she’s thirty-three years old, originally from St Asaph in North Wales. It’s near Rhyl, if that helps at all. She was an orphan from the age of nine, when her mother died of an overdose of painkillers in 1987.’

  Brook nodded. ‘An orphan. Of course.’ Noble looked bemused. ‘She seems . . . needy,’ Brook explained. ‘How long did she spend there?’

  ‘The next seven years – St Asaph’s School for Boys and Girls – an orphanage in all but name. In 1993 Yvette had a baby – Russell. Her only child. No record of the father. Mother and child stayed at the orphanage until she left in 1994 to move to Chester.’

  ‘She was only fifteen when she gave birth?’

  ‘Older than many,’ said Noble.

  ‘And they didn’t take the baby from her?’

  ‘And do what?’ asked Noble. ‘Put it in an orphanage?’

  Brook conceded with a shrug. ‘It’s still odd. Social Services would normally intervene; maybe put the child up for adoption. Ever married?’

  ‘No. And she seems to have survived on benefits for most of her life. There’s no record of any employment until she’s twenty when she moves and becomes a teaching assistant at a primary school in Whitchurch, in 1998, just over the border in Shropshire. The following year, she moves to Uttoxeter. She’s jobless and again surviving on benefits. In 2003, when Russell was ten, she returned to North Wales where she moved around at regular intervals – hardly a settled life. Six months ago, she and Russell turn up in Derby where Russell was enrolled at Derby College.’