‘Hmm,’ responded Potter, digesting all of this. Finally, he nodded. ‘Okay, good. Now, where were we? Oh yes, Saturday.’
‘Yes, guv, we have to consider that another attack may be imminent.’
‘But where, Stella?’
‘That’s the thing. With hindsight, last Saturday may have been predictable but it’s certainly not this time around. He’s done Brandt’s three attacks in Nottingham, but there’s nothing to say he won’t just revisit them again so we need police out in each location.’
‘I’ll phone the DSIs in charge of each of those,’ Potter responded, reaching for the phone on his desk. Johnson could see the hope in his eyes that a bit of the pressure might be taken off them if the killer elected to switch areas.
‘Of course, there is another possibility,’ she added, waiting for him to replace the receiver in its cradle. ‘He might decide now is the time to branch out on his own. But that might not be a bad thing because it could help us better identify which elements of the killings are of his own design rather than simply trying to follow Brandt’s example. Also, without Brandt’s unique experience, he might slip up with the location he selects, and we might be able to trace him from CCTV or whatever.’
‘Fine. Let’s just hope that if he does decide to go rogue then he sods off and does it somewhere else.’
Johnson uttered a laugh that she hoped Potter wouldn’t realise was false and went back to her office. She could completely understand why he felt that way, but the last thing she wanted was the complication of having to work with other constabularies. The thought put her in mind of the press conference following the murder in Milton Keynes. It was there she had met Franklin and had seen the delight in his eyes at the media circus finally stopping in his town. They may never know the extent of his involvement in what Brandt did but even if, as Johnson suspected, it was little, she didn’t feel a great deal of sympathy towards him. Not that she couldn’t see the similarities between Franklin being happy that the notorious serial killer had visited his patch and Johnson not wanting the copycat to stray from her territory. And yet there was one crucial difference that separated them: Franklin wanted it for his own personal gain whereas her motivation was purely from a desire to bring this reign of terror to an end.
Chapter Thirty-four
‘I guess it’s now or never,’ Brandt muttered to himself as he logged on to the computer. He had resisted the urge to check the night before, even though he knew that day would prove crucial in terms of whether there was a chance that Johnson would accept his offer of help. If nothing else, Kath was becoming a little put out by his, seemingly newfound, interest in the world wide web.
He didn’t know if Johnson had truly expected another attack the Saturday following the murder of Sarah Donovan and her husband, but he did know that they would have been on high alert in case there was one. With all the pressure they were undoubtedly under, they couldn’t afford any room for complacency.
Whilst Brandt had been nervous to finally meet Kath’s friends, at least it had been a welcome distraction from pondering what was going on elsewhere. The day went well, and he believed the comments about what a nice couple they made not just been born out of politeness. More than that, he had genuinely enjoyed the company of a larger group and it was with a tinge of regret that he reminded Kath they had agreed not to stay out too late. He could tell from her reaction that she saw his keenness to get home was because he had something intimate in mind, but he was not displeased and, after insisting they catch up with the day’s news, he duly obliged satisfied in the knowledge that nothing untoward had occurred in Nottingham.
– Are you looking for redemption?
Judging by how late Johnson had sent the message and the sort of long and frustrating day she would have experienced, he doubted she would be out of bed for a few hours yet.
Not that he had an instant response in mind anyway. He supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised that she hadn’t chosen to say yes or no and instead was enquiring as to his motivation. But redemption was a bit strong. The fact he was sat there pondering it for so long made him realise Johnson was hardly likely to have just rattled off the first thing that came into her head either. It was entirely possible she knew that he would be shocked by the question and so it would have been deliberate on her part. To say she was likely to be wary of him would be an understatement and why would she expect him to answer a simple question about his motivation truthfully? As a consequence, she could be trying to provoke him into revealing the reason why he was offering to help her by suggesting something it clearly wasn’t.
– No.
Sometimes the best response was the simplest. He might have thought differently had her question come through immediately after his last email, but something had changed her previous stance of ignoring his offer. That could only mean that she was at least leaning towards acceptance and so all he now needed to do was to keep on leading her down that path.
– Well you can’t have it. Not after what you have done.
The ping of the incoming message was surprisingly swift, and Brandt had expected to need to find another excuse to use the laptop later in the morning. This was good because it meant if he kept up the momentum, they might enter into a conversation that led to a conclusion. Of course, he needed to be careful in his haste not to write something he later came to regret, but Johnson was in the same boat and her speedy response was the first show of emotion.
– You assume by referring to redemption that I now see my actions as wrong.
Bold, but perhaps it wouldn’t do any harm to establish a certain amount of control. No matter how aggrieved Johnson may feel, Brandt still had something she wanted.
– You killed McNeil. And nine other innocent people.
Brandt found it interesting that she chose to just refer to his name rather than the nature of his relationship to her but, more importantly, he was sure that this was a test. Johnson was using this to establish whether there could be any basis on which they could form a working partnership. He didn’t want to retract the power of his earlier statement but to revel in the death of the man she had grown close to was likely to see this exchange terminated prematurely.
– It was not my intention to kill McNeil.
– But you meant to kill me.
The immediacy of her reply not only implied that she found his response acceptable but his thoughts about it being a test were correct. And yet Brandt suspected that this new message was the real trial. If she caught him out on what she believed was a lie then, again, it limited his chances of her accepting his help.
– I did the first time.
He waited nervously and wasn’t sure that every moment that passed without an incoming email was a good or bad sign. Even if Johnson hadn’t wondered how she had managed to escape the fire in the weeks that had followed, surely the revelation that Brandt had faked his suicide would have caused her to reassess whether anything that had happened in her house that evening had been as it seemed. In addition, he hoped that his answer would do more than just indicate the sincerity in his offer to help identify the copycat killer. The subtlety of this confirmation that he no longer wanted her dead would do far more to allay any fears she may hold about her personal safety than any direct reassurance he tried to offer her.
‘Damn it,’ he muttered, hearing Kath stirring upstairs. He needed to see this through without being disturbed by her. His hopes that she might shower before coming down were dashed when he heard her bare feet padding along the wooden floor boards of the landing.
Brandt knew he could find a reasonable explanation for being on the computer so early, but he couldn’t afford to have her trying to look over his shoulder. Instead, he picked up the laptop and went into the seldom-used dining room, taking a seat facing the doorway.
‘Morning love,’ Brandt called cheerfully as she passed. ‘There’s plenty of tea in the pot,’ he added so that she wouldn’t choose to linger too long.
‘You�
��re up early,’ she said, carrying on into the kitchen.
‘Yeah, slept like a log and just woke up fresh and raring to go.’
‘What are you doing in there?’
‘Well, call me silly but I was just doing a bit of daydreaming. I was looking at holidays next summer just in case I manage to pick up a job in the new year. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Feel free, just make sure it’s somewhere warm. Can I pour you another cup before I crack on with knocking us up a spot of breakfast?’
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Brandt responded, trusting that the conversation was now over, and he would be left in peace to finish his important business. Kath was neither the greatest nor the fastest cook in the world and he estimated he should have a good 10-15 minutes to wait for Johnson to reply.
With the clashing of pots and pans indicating that it would be a while yet until she called him in to eat, the ping of an incoming email finally sounded.
– How do you propose to help?
Chapter Thirty-five
Johnson was relieved to find CID quiet when she went in that Sunday afternoon. It seemed that everyone, Potter included, had taken the one positive out of yesterday which was that they could spend a rare few hours with their family and friends. All except DC Hardy, that was.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, trying to make any inference of an accusation sound like mere concern for his wellbeing.
‘I could pose you the same question, ma’am. Didn’t you say that you were going to take the day off unless something cropped up overnight?’
‘Yeah well, I just thought I would pop by and catch up with some paperwork,’ she replied casually, already heading toward the confines of her office.
She hadn’t expected Hardy to follow her in. ‘Can I help you with any of it, ma’am?’
Johnson allowed a small smile to form on her lips. Yeah, sure. Pull up a chair and help me send across all our confidential and highly sensitive documents to a serial killer. You know the one, the chap that nearly raped me and then killed McNeil. Yes, that’s it, the one who tried to burn my house down with me in it.
‘Nah, it’s alright. It should only take a few minutes and, besides, don’t you have somewhere better you can be on a Sunday afternoon?’
‘Well, as it happens, I was planning on going to the pub to watch the football.’
‘Sounds fun,’ she lied.
‘Why don’t you come, ma’am? It’s just a couple of the boys from here and a few from uniform. Should be a good match.’
For one dreadful moment, she wondered whether this was his way of trying to ask her out. But a quick study of his face, with its open expression, and not to mention its obvious youthfulness, was enough to convince her she was just being silly and, despite everything, a little arrogant. ‘Thanks, but I am overdue a session at the gym. Another time maybe.’
‘Sure thing, ma’am,’ he said chirpily, heading back to his desk.
A few minutes later, and having gathered what she could electronically, Johnson contemplated how best to do this. She could create a drop box and provide Brandt with the password but, and she thought this may just be a sign of her age, she didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of all these files existing somewhere on the internet just for some spotty teenage hacker to find it. Not that the alternative of sending it through in a series of emails seemed any better.
With them all neatly arranged, ready for her to click the send button on each, she considered the full implication of her actions. This wasn’t just crossing a line, it was leaping straight over it and giving it the finger as she went. Not only was a substantial stretch in prison assured if this came out, there was nothing to say that this wasn’t Brandt’s new way to get at her.
It wasn’t as though he hadn’t tricked her before, and all he would need to do this time would be to forward on the emails to internal affairs and that would be that. But whilst her brain was screaming at her to reconsider, her gut was telling her that it was a chance worth taking. Not only had Brandt proven that he favoured a more hands-on approach to dealing with people with whom he held a grudge, but there was something about his answers to her questions that morning that made her think his offer to help was genuine. Perhaps in some warped way he did think that helping her catch this killer would provide him with some form of redemption. Regardless, she felt she owed it to Sarah Donovan to take whatever risk was required to catch her killer.
‘Whatever it takes,’ she whispered, tears beginning to form in her eyes at the cruel irony of those all-too-familiar words. McNeil’s sister had spoken them to her at the funeral and now fate had conspired to see her enlist the help of the man she had hunted across the continent in order to catch a different murderer.
‘I’m off now, ma’am!’ Hardy called as he got up from his desk.
‘Wait!’ Johnson shouted back. If left on her own she would agonise over the difficult decision she had to make for the rest of the day. Sending these emails was not to say she couldn’t try and catch Brandt again at a later date. Regardless of her personal feelings and what she still owed to McNeil, there was a more pressing concern.
‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend,’ she muttered bitterly as she left her office.
‘What’s that, ma’am?’
‘Oh, nothing, Hardy. Thanks for waiting. Thought you might like to walk me back to my car.’
‘Sure thing, ma’am.’
Chapter Thirty-six
‘Let me cook you dinner.’
‘What?’
‘Dinner, silly. I want to cook you dinner. These last few weeks have been really special, and I wanted to say thanks.’ Mandy held up the shopping bags to indicate that the decision had already been made and he had better accept her offer, and graciously at that.
‘Erm, sure. Come on in,’ Jack replied rushing over to his bed to try and flip the duvet over the sandwich packet, its contents consumed less than an hour before. Lack of appetite or not, he liked just how grown up it all felt. A few short months ago he was living with his parents, working at that café and trying to pluck up the courage to ask someone out for the first time in his life. Now here he was, in his own place and with his girlfriend about to prepare them a meal. All very mature.
And yet that wasn’t the only thing that made Jack feel grown up. He had completed his transition into manhood by successfully following in Brandt’s footsteps. The journey back after killing Sarah Donovan had been the longest in his life. Although the sirens his ears strained to hear never materialised, he was sure someone would notice the blood splatters on him that he had tried so hard to conceal. Arriving at his room and being able to get washed and changed did little to allay his fears, especially when news of what he had done surfaced before the day was out. He really should have thought to close the victims’ front room curtains so that when their visitors arrived, whoever they were, they would not have seen Sarah’s lifeless body through the window.
The deep anxiety had lasted for most of the following week, but it conspired to strengthen his relationship with Mandy. Certain that at any moment the police would storm in to arrest him, he was determined to make the most of the little time he had left. Not only had he spent as many occasions with her as possible, but on the Sunday night as he lay awake once more listening out for the rush of footsteps down the corridor, he roused Mandy to tell her he loved her. It wasn’t so much her response that she loved him too that gave him the greatest satisfaction, more that in the moment of saying it he realised he truly meant it.
In the days that followed, he pondered whether the absence of an urge to kill was like that of an alcoholic waking up after a particularly heavy bender and vowing not to drink again, and whether once he had recovered from the effects of what had happened, he would be compelled to resume his habit. But as the longest, and in a bizarre way the best, week of his life moved into the weekend and he started to believe he had got away with it, his thoughts hadn’t turned to planning another murder.
This
had pleased Jack because he could focus his efforts on his blossoming relationship with Mandy and ensuring that he did enough work to feel confident of passing his end of year exams, thereby ensuring he could remain at university. He hoped when they moved out of halls in their second year, they would be able to get a place together, just the two of them.
Not that Jack’s happiness and focus on the future didn’t stop him wondering why he no longer felt inclined to continue the thing that had been his sole reason for coming to this part of the country. Brandt had gone on to kill elsewhere and, although Jack hadn’t been sure he would seek to switch location himself, he had believed that once he had replicated Brandt’s Nottingham murders, he would look to branch out on his own. The single question in his mind as he planned how to get to Sarah was whether he would tie up the only loose end that remained: DCI Stella Johnson. The ease establishing where Sarah lived wasn’t the key reason why he targeted her first. He knew that killing her would be far easier: Johnson was a copper, which was intimidating enough, and she had managed to foil Brandt twice.
Jack had known from the moment he had arrived back in his room following Sarah’s murder that he would never go after Johnson; a resolution that didn’t wane as his immediate fear of detection wore off. Even if he somehow managed to work out where she was now staying, he knew that it would be a step too far. He may never be truly certain why Brandt hadn’t managed to kill Sarah, but if he’d wanted Johnson finished off then he would have to do that himself. With the news that Brandt was still alive, there was no longer the need to continue his work and Jack could settle on finding his own path in life, and preferably one that was far less dangerous.
Not that he wanted to forget the past. It had brought him to this moment of pure contentedness, where his girlfriend wanted to show her love for him by cooking a special dinner. And should he ever need reminding of everything he had gone through in order to get to this point, he need only retrieve his steak knife and relive that glorious moment when he had plunged it into Sarah’s exposed flesh.
Smoke and Mirrors Page 16