‘You gonna eat that?’ Stefan pointed his fork at the full plate. Elias shrugged, then shook his head, pushed the plate aside and sipped his coffee.
Stefan sat back in his chair. ‘Did she give you the “no first name” spiel?’ Elias remained silent. ‘She does give that speech to everyone.’
Elias sat back in his chair, jutted out his chin in defiance. ‘You think I’m taking myself too seriously.’ It was a statement rather than a question.
‘Well you said it,’ Matthews quipped.
‘Ignore him,’ said Stefan. ‘Best thing you can do is not take Claire’s attempts to destroy you seriously. She’s as harmless as a kitten really.’
‘As far as harmless sharp-clawed kittens go,’ Matthews added, nose still buried in the newspaper. Stefan rolled his eyes at him.
‘Cut her some slack. She’s really been through it in the last year. What with all that uncertainty with her father and… ’
He trailed off when he saw he’d piqued Elias’s interest.
‘She’s tough,’ he said at length, ‘but she’s good. I’d trust her with my life, Crest. You just got to earn her trust and respect.’
Elias sat forward and looked stern again, his hands now clasped in front of him on the table. ‘You know respect works both ways, right?’
Stefan’s eyes narrowed, silently questioning.
‘I mean, I can see you’re her biggest fan n’ all that but I don’t need to know the inner workings inside her head. I’ll deal with her in my own way.’
There was a long pause as the two men stared at each other. Stefan raked his fingers through his floppy light brown hair, trying to work Elias out. Realising he might have spoken too harshly, Elias added, ‘Thanks, though… for the advice.’
He stood, drained the last dregs of his coffee and set the cup back down onto the table with a bang. ‘Team briefing now, yes?’ he said as he left.
Stefan felt Matthews looking at him.
‘Are we taking bets on how long it takes him to walk?’
Stefan watched Elias leave the canteen. ‘I think he’s gonna need training wheels that’s for sure.’
CHAPTER 6
From his desk, back in CID, Elias watched her through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall of her office, talking into the phone glued to her ear.
Claire must have felt eyes on her, because she looked up, straight in his direction.
He looked away first.
‘And what’re you doing for Christmas? Have you been a good girl this year?’
Elias glanced up, saw Matthews was beside Claire as soon as she came out of her office. Her face turned from a frown to what he thought was the faintest hint of a smile.
‘I’ll probably be in my straitjacket,’ she said.
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Do I even want to know?’
‘My mother’s staying… Probably right up until Christmas.’
He laughed. ‘Don’t tell me Iris managed to prise herself away from the Costa Brava?’
‘Her once-a-year jaunt.’
‘When it’s this cold as well…’
‘She’s full of surprises,’ she said, as she took her place at the front of the room. After several seconds the room quietened down.
‘By a stroke of luck, we’ve already got some news on the body,’ Claire said, as she circulated some photographs of a young woman who, despite smiling, had eyes that remained dark pits, captured in time, the light never reaching them.
‘Nola Grant, twenty-three years old, prostitute.’
‘So our Jane Doe has a name,’ Stefan said, crossing his legs when he sat down in his chair.
Claire nodded. ‘Switchboard took a call from a girl claiming to be her flatmate, who reported her missing on the second. Her name’s Rachel Larson. She heard about the body in the lake and she said it had to be Nola, based on the significant tattoos described on the body.
‘We ran the name. Grant was known to police for soliciting and has been cautioned for drug offences. Looking at the photograph we have on file and this one provided by Larson, it sure looks like the girl we pulled from the lake this morning. The post mortem should confirm her identity with the records we have on the system. Nola went missing in the early hours of Friday morning and guess who her pimp is?’
Everyone in the room looked expectant.
‘Daryl Thomas.’
Nobody spoke at first. Claire looked at Stefan.
He paused. ‘Christ…’
‘Yeah, I thought the same,’ she said. ‘The “filth beater” as he’s affectionately known since that assault on PC Southgate the other year.’ She paused. ‘That’s not the best bit either.’
She explained the missing persons report and the voicemail left on Rachel Larson’s mobile.
‘You’ve listened to the voicemail?’ Matthews said.
Claire shook her head. ‘No, I haven’t yet, and Nola was still being treated as a missing person. It couldn’t be established whether the call was legit and not a prank. We need to get Larson’s and Nola’s phone records. Larson should tell us who Nola’s network provider was. We also need her mobile, which leads me to my next question.’
She glanced at Elias.
‘Larson refused to say whether she’d formally ID the body and now her phone is switched off. I want you, Fletch, to head down to her flat – and take DS Crest with you.’
After allocating various other tasks to the rest of the team, Stefan was soon close beside her, pulling his coat on. Claire followed his line of vision.
It was firmly set on Elias.
‘Is this his test run?’
She paused. ‘You could say that.’ She stared at Elias. ‘Keep an eye on him, Fletch.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you expecting trouble?’
‘Truth be told,’ she said, looking away when Elias glanced in her direction, ‘I’m not sure yet.’
CHAPTER 7
Elias looked out of the window and sighed as Stefan drove his car towards Rachel Larson’s flat. The tired-looking buildings that ran through the heart of the industrial area did little to enhance an already rundown part of Haverbridge. As they headed towards Haverbridge North, Stefan squinted at the bright shafts of light penetrating through random gaps in the gunmetal grey clouds above.
He hadn’t offered Elias any conversation and he felt uncomfortable. Racking his brains for something to chat about, he couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound contrived or insincere.
‘Ice Maiden gave you permission to take me out with you, did she?’
Stefan’s face shot around to look at him, feeling Elias had somehow read his mind. He returned Stefan’s gaze. ‘I mean Claire, of course.’
‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Stefan was never really any good at lying, not even telling little white ones.
‘Sure you don’t. Why would you? It’s all in my head, I get it,’ Elias said. Stefan remained quiet, concentrating on the traffic. ‘Is she like this with everyone she first meets?’
Stefan felt his face flush a little as he drew near a roundabout. ‘It’s the third exit here, isn’t it?’
Elias laughed. ‘Don’t change the subject.’
Stefan sighed as he followed the road away from the roundabout and slowed the car as he approached some local shops, pulling into one of three parking spaces outside a chip shop.
‘Larson’s flat is one of them over the shops,’ he said, looking Elias hard in the face. ‘And with Claire, just cut her some slack. You’re new to a tight-knit team, she’s naturally wary.’
Elias looked incredulous. ‘Everyone’s so far up her arse and I just don’t get it.’
Stefan had heard enough and as Elias got out of the car, Stefan followed after him. ‘Word of advice. Just drop it.’
‘Drop what?’
‘Your petty vendetta against Claire. She’s got the respect of those in high places, not to mention from those who work directly with her, me included. My advice to you is to make the most of the time y
ou’ve got left at Haverbridge.’
Stefan started towards the stairs which led to the flats above the shops, when he felt Elias pull at his shoulder.
‘You’re threatening me?’
‘I don’t need to. Your attitude alone is gonna get you the push.’ Elias was silent but his eyes bore into Stefan’s. ‘Why are you starting something with Claire? That’s what I don’t get.’
‘I’m not. I just can’t seem to find any common ground with her. I don’t know what I’ve got to do or who I have to become to get her to say, “You know what, Crest? You’ve done a good job today.”’
Stefan’s eyes widened with amusement. ‘You’re expecting a pat on the back every time you do something good?’
‘What, you think I don’t deserve her thanks?’
‘Wow, your arrogance knows no bounds, does it?’
Elias dismissed him with a gesture of his hands and started up the stairs. ‘You may like being pussy-whipped by a woman but I don’t.’ Stefan stared at him, face blank. ‘Let’s just see the Larson girl, shall we?’
CHAPTER 8
Daryl Thomas watched from the window of his old beat-up BMW, parked across the road, eyes narrowing as the two men, dressed in suits, moved towards her.
Rachel was sitting in the bus shelter on her usual daytime patch, looking at her mobile phone when the two men approached her. She seemed nervous and he saw her eyes flash across the street in his direction.
It meant one thing.
Trouble.
The black eye he’d given her for lying to him about Nola had started to fade but he could still see it from the car. He’d cursed himself inwardly for damaging her where people could see. This wasn’t out of some new-found sense of sympathy for her, but purely from a business point of view. It might put the punters off.
One of the men stood in front of her, blocking his view.
Daryl lit a cigarette, took a deep drag and exhaled, revealing his stale-yellow teeth, and got out of the car. He walked a short way up the road and leaned up against the wall of a house on the edge of the turning towards the main street. He could now see Rachel’s face clearly and she appeared on edge. Her eyes kept darting back and forth towards him and, after a short while, he crushed the cigarette under his foot and crossed the road.
*
‘We could go back to your flat, if that’d make you more comfortable,’ Stefan said, more than aware of the fear in her eyes. ‘We could talk more openly then.’ Rachel shook her head, and when she saw Daryl closing in on them, she sprang from her seat.
‘You need to leave. Now.’
Stefan and Elias exchanged glances. They saw the panic in her eyes. They knew what they needed from her and the sooner she ID’d the body, the better.
‘Look,’ Elias said, ‘I don’t think you understand. We need to talk to you about your friend. It’d be better if we went back to your flat.’
‘No, you don’t understand,’ she said, edging closer. ‘Please, leave now. I’ll call the station later, I promise.’ She gently pushed Elias out of her way, but it was too late.
‘You two paying or not?’ Elias turned to look behind him. ‘If you’re not, just fuck off, yeah? You understand me, boys?’
Elias sneered at the sight of the shabby, dirty-looking man and reached inside his pocket. He showed the man his warrant card.
‘DS Crest, meet Daryl Thomas,’ said Stefan. Daryl’s face turned sour and his eyes narrowed at Elias’s credentials.
‘She’s done nothing wrong, sitting ’ere minding her own business. You got nothing.’ He folded his arms in defiance.
‘Miss Larson isn’t in trouble, Daryl. An associate told us she was here after we got no answer at her flat. We’re here about Nola Grant,’ Stefan said.
Daryl swaggered around Elias to stand beside Rachel. ‘You tell that silly slag to get her skinny arse back round ’ere ’n see me.’
‘That’s not possible,’ Elias said. He saw Stefan shake his head and his jaw set firm as Rachel began to cry.
Daryl saw their faces and edged closer. ‘What you two hiding?’ he said, raising his finger, pointing at both of them. ‘Where is she?’
Stefan ignored him and focused on Rachel. ‘We’d like to talk to you back at your flat. We’ll give you a lift.’
‘Stay out of the fucking car,’ Daryl said, grabbing her roughly by the arm. ‘Whatever you say to her, you can say in front of me.’
‘Careful, Thomas. You don’t want another assault charge under your belt.’
‘Fuck off. I’m just looking out for the lady, aren’t I, Rach?’
‘Shall I add using offensive language to an officer as well?’ Elias asked Stefan. Daryl puffed out his chest and pushed strands of his thinning brown hair out of his eyes.
‘What’s your name again?’ Daryl let go of Rachel’s arm and she rubbed it instinctively through her thick coat. Daryl squared his tall wiry frame up to Elias. Stefan took the opportunity to move Rachel, and helped her into his car.
‘Hey!’ Daryl called out and Stefan used his key fob to lock the automatic doors as Daryl reached for the passenger-door handle.
‘She’ll be fine, Daryl, settle down.’
Elias reached out and gently pushed Daryl back when he tried to round on Stefan.
‘Get your fucking dirty hands off me.’
‘You want to get a new profession, Thomas. Real men don’t beat women.’
‘You wanna fucking have a go, pig?’ He shoved his hand hard into Elias’s chest. ‘What does it matter to you? Plenty of your lot are serviced by my girls.’
Elias’s face dropped. He reached out and grabbed Daryl by the front of his jacket, pulling him forward, until his face was just inches from his own.
‘She’s dead.’
He watched Daryl’s eyes now searching his own. He went to speak, but Elias stopped him, tightening his grip. ‘Nola. Is. Dead.’
Daryl’s face grew serious. ‘You’re lying.’
‘She’s laid out on the slab in the morgue. She’s been murdered, Daryl, and I’ll be coming back to speak with you about it personally. I’ll make sure of it.’
PART TWO
02:58 a.m.
A deep pounding echo. A rush of blood through the ears. Breathing is hard and rapid.
She can see her own feet when looking down with eyes that don’t quite feel like her own. The ground is drenched in melting ice and snow. There are trees, so many trees, skeletal branches and trunks like twisted figures in the grey. Her surroundings are void of colour, entwined in a thickening mist.
Running.
She runs across the woodland floor. She has no shoes, and her feet are turning numb. Her legs are heavy. They can’t keep up with the will of her heart, the pull of her soul.
Her eyes scan the surroundings and everything whips past in a blur. A panoramic view of no way out, no place to hide. Her heart slams harder against her ribcage, fear driving her on.
All she can hear now is the sound of her own breathing, a fearful rush through the depths of her body.
A body too tired to run for much longer.
She sees the path ahead.
A path dense with trees, their roots stretching far and wide. She doesn’t see the twisting, dark root, snaking its way above the earth, and crossing her path. It’s too late now to stop herself.
Her foot is hooked. Her legs pull from under her. She is no more than a rag doll, cast aside. She panics as the ground rushes up to meet her. She can hear a voice as she falls.
She knows she can’t fight any more.
Still the ground rushes towards her. She feels like she is endlessly falling in slow motion, the wind pulling through a mass of blonde tangled hair.
CHAPTER 9
7th November
The first November snow started to fall at exactly 5:31 a.m. Claire knew the time, having been up since 3:00 a.m., unable to sleep after yet another night terror. It was her third that week.
This time she was sure the man with no eyes t
hat haunted her, who she ran from, was some twisted version of her father – Peter.
How long had it been now since they’d spoken?
She couldn’t remember and part of her felt guilty for not caring. Everything that had happened last year he’d brought upon himself, Claire knew that.
I did all I could, she reasoned with herself. Then why do I see the two of them – Father and the Other, whose name I can’t bring myself to speak – in every nightmare?
Sweat cooled against her skin, and she felt the shiver travel up her spine.
It was the morning of Nola Grant’s PM. She’d concentrate on that. It was all that mattered right now, not her broken inner self.
After she wiped the sweat from her face and chest, she headed downstairs. She then sat curled up in the window seat of the bay window in the living room, swathed in a blanket, nose buried in a book.
There was a small lamp dimly lit beside her and the curtains were open, despite it still being dark outside. A cup of coffee that rested beside her had long gone cold and she’d pushed it aside. When the first snowflake had settled on the window, she set aside her book in favour of watching the snow cover her garden in a blanket of white.
She could hear her mother, Iris, get up and start down the stairs, then her feet shuffling in her slippers against the hardwood floor as she entered the kitchen. When she heard the coffee machine whir into life, she sighed to herself, her solitude soon to be broken. She snapped her book shut and stood just as Iris entered the room.
Iris had invited herself to stay with Claire, forcing herself away from her home in Spain. Claire had never been to her mother’s house on the Costa Brava, and didn’t intend to if she could help it.
Since Iris had been divorced, she rarely made the effort to see her only child, and even when Claire had gone through her own messy divorce, Iris practically left her to go it alone.
Knowing how her mother felt about England nowadays meant Claire could relax, safe in the knowledge her mother only made an effort to visit once a year, at a time of her own choosing.
The Principle of Evil: A Fast-Paced Serial Killer Thriller (DCI Claire Winters, Book 2) Page 6