The Principle of Evil: A Fast-Paced Serial Killer Thriller (DCI Claire Winters, Book 2)

by T. M. E. Walsh

  He noticed her pace slow.

  A quick look around confirmed they were alone.

  His pace quickened.

  She headed towards a bench which was coming up on the left. She slowed to a fast walk before putting a leg up on the bench to stretch it. She didn’t bother to look behind her. Her head bobbed in time to the music.

  He picked up speed, closing in on her.

  She was almost within his reach.

  Everything in his mind seemed to happen in slow motion when his hand reached out towards her.

  Her back was to him and as he rushed past, he let his fingers brush through her hair. In an instant he caught the scent of her perfume. He felt euphoric, as the softness of her hair slipped away through his fingers.

  Everything happened in under a second, but it would remain with him for a lifetime.

  He didn’t look back.

  He picked up his pace and turned out of sight, off towards the street next to Claire’s home, where he’d parked his car earlier. Later he would come back, watch her arrive home. He hoped the mother wouldn’t be there this time. He wanted to enjoy the feeling he got when he knew Claire was all alone. Vulnerable and at his mercy, knowing what he could do if he wanted.

  What he longed to do.

  *

  Claire’s head shot up when something pulled through her hair.

  She frowned, watching the man in the black tracksuit running ahead of her, never bothering to look back and apologise.

  Creep.

  She was feeling so pumped with adrenaline, it was a hard decision for her not to go after him and give him a piece of her mind. Instead, she watched him until he disappeared from sight and soon, out of mind. She finished stretching the other leg, before resuming her jog.

  CHAPTER 51

  Social get-togethers with colleagues weren’t usually top of Claire’s list of priorities, but since it was DSI Donahue’s birthday drinks, she’d been dragged along. Donahue’s favourite local wine bar was called Hedonism, which sat in the heart of the town’s high street.

  Decorated in gold and silver, with floor-to-ceiling glass windows at the front, Claire felt like she was in a car showroom rather than a bar. It was almost 7:00 p.m. and the place was busy.

  ‘Clifton must be in a good mood,’ she said to Stefan when he sat down, placing a small glass of wine in front of her. ‘Open bar for us lot and spouses?’

  ‘Shut up and drink.’

  ‘I’m driving.’

  ‘One won’t kill you.’

  Picking up the glass, she brought it up towards Stefan, met his pint glass with a loud clink, then downed half the liquid in one mouthful. As she put the glass back on the table, Elias sat down in front of them, swiftly followed by Matthews.

  ‘Donahue said if you haven’t lightened up by the end of the night, you’re footing the bar tab,’ Matthews said, his words already slurring.

  He gave Claire a wink.

  ‘If lightening up means ending up like you, Matthews, I’d gladly foot the bill.’

  Stefan laughed. Matthews took a large swig of his beer and drunkenly pointed his finger at Claire. ‘You need something to take your mind off the case. The Davenport girl in particular.’ He gave Elias a playful dig in the arm with his elbow.

  ‘I’ve seen her like this before, last year. There was this DS and he–’

  ‘Matthews,’ Claire said, arching her eyebrow. It was a warning, and Elias shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  ‘Let’s drink to new beginnings,’ Stefan said, raising his glass towards Elias, ‘and to new colleagues?’

  ‘I’ll drink to that,’ Matthews said, slapping Elias on the back. ‘Even though you’re a bit of a prick, you’re all right most of the time.’

  Elias lifted his glass. ‘I guess there’s a compliment there somewhere.’

  They sipped their drinks and the table fell silent. Claire excused herself, took her glass and wandered off to the entrance of the bar. Matthews started talking about something so unintelligible that Stefan just made noises in what he hoped were the right places.

  Elias followed Claire. He stood beside her, following her line of vision. She was staring out of the glass front towards the toy shop across the road, its windows twinkling with fairy lights and decorated in an old-fashioned theme.

  ‘Reminds you of something out of a Dickens novel, doesn’t it?’

  She gave him a sideways glance. ‘I don’t do small talk.’

  ‘I’m trying my best here.’

  ‘Don’t feel you have to.’

  Elias stared at her, his eyes appearing darker than usual. He had something to ask her, and was unsure how to phrase it.

  Seeing he was struggling, she forced her face to soften. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘Am I that transparent?’

  She half smiled. ‘You’re not standing with me for my company, I know that much.’ He didn’t answer. ‘What can I do for you, Crest?’

  ‘This isn’t related to the investigation.’

  ‘Now I am worried,’ she said, eyes widening in mock surprise.

  ‘What have you told Stefan about why I’m here?’ he said.

  Claire noted the hard edge to his voice. He was serious; in no mood for games. He was trying his best not to sound confrontational, but failing miserably. His body language told her how uncomfortable he was.

  Claire held his stare. ‘Why you’re here at Haverbridge you mean?’

  Elias nodded.

  Claire opened her mouth, sighed, then said, ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You’re both close, so I find that hard to believe.’

  Claire gave half a laugh, and shook her head. ‘I think you’ve miss-read our relationship.’ She paused. ‘Stefan is one of my most trusted and loyal officers, but there are limits to what I share with him, and that includes what I know about your reasons for transferring from Merseyside.’

  Elias took a moment to process her words, not sure if he believed them, and Claire remembered the reasons that had been passed to her from his old colleagues as to why Elias seemed to hate working under the authority of a woman.

  Elias lived on his own, despite having a steady stream of girlfriends on and off. He preferred his own company.

  He was born in London and spent most of his early years living – no, surviving – on a rundown sink estate in Brixton, sharing a cramped mould-ridden one-bed flat with his mother.

  Elias’s biological father had walked out when he was fifteen, and he hadn’t seen much of him since then. When he’d found out Elias wanted to be a police officer, he pretty much disowned him. Elias’s mother had then had a steady stream of boyfriends, all of whom had their own emotional baggage carried in tow.

  By the time Elias’s mother gave him the third half-sister since his father had left, Elias had quite literally had enough. He left home and moved to Liverpool, and soon took his first steps to becoming a police officer.

  After five years in Liverpool South’s CID team, Elias had wanted out.

  ‘Has DI Fletcher said anything to you about why you came to this division?’ she said at length.

  Elias paused. He looked out the glass front again, focusing his gaze back towards the Christmas display in the shop opposite.

  The official reason he left and transferred back down south was because he wanted to live and work closer to his family, but the real reason wasn’t quite so clear cut.

  Claire knew that. She knew pretty much everything.

  Elias didn’t like working under a woman’s authority, that much was clear. A psychiatrist might argue that this is down to Elias’s childhood and the way his mother raised him, but Claire wasn’t buying into that.

  His mother could’ve been the complete opposite of what she became and Elias would still resent her.

  ‘Well?’ she said. ‘Has Fletch made any comments to you?’

  He looked at her then and held her gaze. He shrugged. ‘Not as such.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning, he m
akes the odd dig… about my apparent problem with authority.’

  Claire pulled at a strand of her hair that hung down over her shoulder. She twisted it through her fingers.

  ‘Fletch, or anyone else for that matter, doesn’t need me to spread gossip about your behaviour,’ she said. ‘You’re not exactly an enigma to me, Crest. Your feelings are abundantly clear.’

  ‘My file–’

  ‘That only I and a select few have seen,’ she added, cutting in.

  Elias sighed. ‘… My file can’t be read as purely black and white.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Why do you think you were transferred to this team?’ Elias didn’t answer. His brow furrowed and Claire smiled. ‘Despite what you may have heard or assumed about me, Crest,’ she said, ‘I tend to read past the paperwork, past what others say someone can or can’t do.’

  She leaned in closer to him.

  ‘I judge from my initial first impressions, yes, that’s true, but I’m not naïve. The cases you’ve worked on, the suspects you’ve helped catch…’

  She sighed as she crossed her arms tight across her chest. ‘You assume your file contains something questionable about your character …’ Her eyes meet his. ‘It doesn’t.’

  Elias frowned.

  ‘If there had been anything untoward, you wouldn’t be here,’ she said. ‘Your last boss, DCI Glass, she called me when she knew the details about the transfer had been approved.’

  Elias felt the lump rise in his throat, tried to swallow it back down. He’d always assumed his file had contained details of what happened in Liverpool. What had been alleged.

  An unreliable witness had made a complaint that Elias had harassed her about changing her statement. An argument with a neighbour had got out of hand. A man ended up dead after a known thug had smashed a glass bottle and slashed the man’s neck, severing a carotid artery. The only witness had been the thug’s mother, who was adamant she would stick by her son.

  Elias knew she was lying and tried to pressure her, or so she claimed. She promptly dropped her complaint and Elias never did find out why. He assumed her son must have intervened because he later admitted to what he’d done.

  The whole business had left Elias scared to an extent. He’d had enough and he wanted out of Liverpool.

  His eyes met Claire’s and he went to speak, but couldn’t find the words.

  ‘Professional Standards could’ve been involved,’ Claire said. ‘You’d never have been considered for transfer if they had. Your record is exemplary and you passed the vetting, the medical and fitness tests, and Glass gave you a good reference – fantastic in fact.’

  Claire turned to face him full on. ‘She gave you a bloody get-out-of-jail-free card, Crest. Don’t forget that.’

  Elias’s lips parted a little. He wasn’t sure he believed what he was hearing.

  Claire wasn’t finished.

  ‘What I heard, off the record, was that after the alleged harassment of a key witness, your relationship with your work colleagues broke down, and you needed a life line. After many meetings it was decided someone would give you that life line – the chance you needed, certainly not an easy ride, but a life line nonetheless.’

  A slow realisation began to hit Elias full force and he wasn’t sure what to think or how to feel. For the first time he found he couldn’t hold her stare.

  He blinked, lowering his eyes.

  ‘There were those privy to the incident that weren’t prepared to take a risk on you transferring here.’

  She let the sentence hang.

  ‘Someone gave me the chance,’ he said at last.

  Claire nodded.

  ‘That someone was… you?’

  Claire’s lips pulled into a hard line and she gave a small barely noticeable nod. Elias felt many emotions, but embarrassment was by far the most overwhelming emotion. He’d spent the last few weeks behaving like he had an axe to grind with her, and now he’d found out she’d helped save his arse, he didn’t know how to feel.

  ‘Truth is,’ she said, ‘it could’ve easily been me in the same situation as you ten years ago…’

  ‘I really don’t know what to say.’

  Claire understood that feeling at least. ‘Don’t say anything. Not about this conversation and don’t think that this makes us friends. In my eyes, you still have a lot to prove.’

  He allowed himself an inward smile. ‘Fair, I guess.’ He looked back towards Stefan.

  DSI Donahue had joined them with his wife. Her face was well-lined and her hair colour a perfect out-of-the-bottle auburn. Elias had met her briefly. She seemed all right, but he wasn’t planning on getting too friendly with them.

  Donahue had taken his side when he’d questioned Claire’s actions regarding Daryl Thomas, which had surprised him, but still, he didn’t know how far to trust the man.

  That would take time, and despite what Claire had just revealed to him, he was of her mind.

  He wasn’t about to put all his trust in her either.

  A raucous laugh erupted from the far corner near the bar, and Elias looked around and surveyed the drunken group of men and women, sharing a joke, and it was then that he saw her.

  A young woman sat in the corner, her coat pulled right up to her chin and her hair partially covering her face, but despite this he could tell what she was doing instantly.

  She was watching him.

  He stared at her until she looked away. He thought nothing of it, until minutes later he caught her looking again. He leaned over to Claire, but as he went to speak, the woman in the corner got up and disappeared into the toilets.

  ‘Something wrong?’ Claire’s eyes scanned the tables, following his stare.

  He shrugged, turning towards her. ‘It’s nothing. You want another drink?’

  ‘If you were paying the tab I’d feel more inclined to say yes and think that this was an honest attempt to get to know me.’

  He frowned. ‘Is that a yes or a no?’

  She handed him her empty glass. ‘I’ll have an orange juice.’

  *

  The girl went into the toilet cubicle, locking the door behind her. Her heart was beating hard, and she flattened her palm over her chest to calm herself. She rested her head against the door and blew out her breath. She closed her eyes.

  She thought about the fact there was nothing keeping her from walking away from this whole mess and starting a new life somewhere else, but then again she was born into this and there was no get-out clause. It was meant to be and the sooner she accepted it, the better.

  *

  When she came out of the toilets, Elias was waiting for her.

  She took great care to hide most of her face when she swerved around him in between a large group of men.

  Elias had an uneasy feeling deep inside his gut. This girl wasn’t watching him because she was interested in him for company. She had another agenda.

  As she neared the main door she risked a glance behind. She saw he was now going back to his table, grabbing his coat. He was coming after her. It was then she felt unsure about the whole thing for the second time that night.

  There’s no going back, not now.

  It didn’t matter how many times she told herself that, she was still fighting the urge to just run. Run now and never look back.

  But she didn’t.

  She stepped out into the cold, pulled her hood up and headed down the high street.

  *

  Elias made his excuses and left Hedonism, pulling his coat collar up high when he stepped out into the bitter cold.

  He looked in both directions and saw the back of the woman, a few yards away, heading towards the petrol station. He started to follow, pushing past the revellers spilling onto the pavement outside the clubs and restaurants. Then she stopped dead in her tracks and glanced behind her.

  Stared right at him. Then she ran.

  Elias gave chase.

  When he turned a corne
r, she was already halfway down the road ahead of him. Despite her high heels, the girl could run fast. He pushed himself harder, picking up speed, skidding in the snow. She rounded another corner and slipped on the ice. She landed hard on her knees.

  She scrambled on the pavement when he grabbed her shoulder.

  ‘Take it easy,’ he said, pulling her up. ‘You’re the one who was watching me, sweetheart.’

  ‘Get off me!’

  ‘Detective Sergeant Elias Crest,’ he said, flashing his warrant card at her with his free hand. ‘Why were you watching me? Why did you run?’ She ignored him, pushing his arms, but he held tight. ‘Answer me and I’ll let you go.’

  ‘All right, just get your hands off me!’ He released her but closed the gap between them. He watched her adjust her clothes.

  ‘I’m waiting.’

  ‘And I’m fucking freezing. You mind if we do this somewhere else?’

  He looked surprised, but nodded, taking a cautious step back. ‘Don’t try to run again.’

  She glowered. ‘Not in these heels.’ She shoved past him. ‘The Clover. You’re paying.’

  CHAPTER 52

  The Clover was a greasy spoon just off the main high street run by a third-generation Irish family. Not the nicest of places, but it was cheap if not so cheerful, and it was warm, even if it did smell of cooking fat.

  Elias had never been in there, but he’d heard of it – most policemen had. It wasn’t uncommon for trouble to break out around here after kicking-out time in the pubs and clubs. The Clover was the only places that stayed open until 3:00 a.m., that wasn’t a fast-food joint or kebab house.

  Choosing a table in the corner, the girl sat down without removing her coat. The place was busy, mostly with groups of young men.

  Elias ordered two mugs of tea, then sat watching her in silence until a grubby-looking man slammed down two steaming mugs in front of them. She reached forward and cupped one mug in her hands, breathing in the steam.

  ‘Why were you watching me?’

  Her eyes, smudged with black kohl, looked hard into his. She leaned in closer across the faded yellow table and glanced over his shoulder, checking it was safe to talk.