‘Just get on with it,’ the DCI demanded.
Marnie looked at her boss and scowled but Reese chose to ignore it, his hands tight on the wheel, his face set in harsh lines.
‘Another dismembered body,’ Bev replied in a whisper.
Marnie felt the shock lance into her brain as she pictured the body parts shoved into the rucksack, the blood and gore and Tam Whitlow looking up at her with his one good eye, his mouth stretched wide in a perpetual scream of agony.
‘Where, at Phelps’s office?’ Marnie asked, puzzled.
They listened as Bev explained about the change in her orders, Susan taking over at Phelps’s office while she was ordered to go to the house where the body had been found. She gave them the address, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal as the shock continued to affect her.
‘Do we know who the victim is?’
‘No, but apparently, the house belongs to a local builder named Collier—’
‘How did you find out about the body?’ Marnie enquired.
‘An anonymous call came through to the desk, so I was sent to check it out. And Christ, it’s bad.’
‘OK, listen, I’m on my way over now,’ Marnie said and glanced at Reese who nodded in agreement.
‘Thanks, boss.’
Marnie tapped the screen and slid the phone back into her pocket before opening the door and climbing out.
‘I’m sorry for being a miserable bastard,’ Reese said, as she made to close the door.
Marnie hesitated and then sighed. ‘My main concern is the girl, she didn’t ask for any of this, she’s not a dealer or a killer, she’s just a kid who lost her mother to cancer and now her father’s dead and—’
‘That’s the real reason you didn’t tackle Conway, isn’t it?’ Reese interrupted.
Marnie dipped her head to look into the car. ‘Look at us, we’re stretched to the limit, we have Rae to contend with and now Hall’s dead and Rowan is still missing and another dismembered body turns up and—’
‘That doesn’t make it right, Sergeant, you let Conway walk, if he kills someone else then their blood will be on your hands,’ he jabbed a finger towards Marnie, his eyes firing pulses of anger.
‘Conway is following the leads and I’ve already told you, he had a knife.’
‘He killed Hamer!’ Reese barked. ‘He stamped all over his bloody head, you saw the damage done.’
Marnie leaned further down. ‘You’re right, I did, but I also saw the damage done to Emma Winstanley and Drew Watkins. Two lives ruined and for what? Just so Hamer could line his pockets and play the big man. The Hamers of this world are not bothered about the law, so what if they serve a few months in the nick, they still come out and start all over again. So, if you are asking me if I have any sympathy for Hamer then the answer is no, my sympathies lie with the victims and not a bastard like him.’
Reese moved back slightly in his seat, his eyes widening in surprise, when he opened his mouth Marnie raised a hand.
‘The day you don’t trust me is the day I walk away from this job,’ she fired back.
Reese seemed to expand behind the wheel, the air between them charged with anger and frustration.
‘Just get over to the house and sort this,’ he said as he pushed the door open.
By the time he climbed from the car, Marnie was storming over to her Audi, Reese watched her, pensively, over the roof of his car.
She didn’t look back as she got into the car, even when she spun it around in the turning space and drove away she kept her eyes looking straight ahead.
The DCI rubbed a hand across his tired eyes. ‘What a bloody life,’ he mumbled, slamming the car door and heading back towards the house.
61
Marnie went through the gears, siren wailing, lights flashing, her emotions see-sawing back and forth. Part of her mind was disgusted with the fact that she had let Conway walk away from Phelps’s house. Reese was right, she had failed in her duty. He had seen through the thin façade to the truth. She should have at least followed the man, got the make and registration of the car he was driving, that would have given them a chance to pick him up before someone else died. Instead, she had let him walk away, unchecked, worse still she had told him about John Hall, no doubt adding to his desperation to find the missing Rowan.
The traffic lights in the distance changed to red and she slowed down, glancing left and right before crossing the junction at speed.
She had allowed herself to be swayed by Tom Conway, seeing his pain she had ignored the fact that he had killed Hamer and tortured Chelsea in his hunt for the Hall family. Yet she had seen the look of despair in his eyes, the same heartache she saw when she looked in the mirror. The haunted look of someone who knew they could never change the past yet desperately clinging onto hope in an uncertain future.
The road narrowed, she slowed down slightly and dragged in a huge breath of air, letting it out through her nose in an attempt to calm her pulsating brain.
Ten minutes later, she pulled across the road and onto the tarmacked drive, parking up behind the two squad cars at the front of the property. The house was newly built and yet it managed to look tatty – as if it had been built on the cheap – paint peeled from the shingles, weeds grew from the crooked guttering that spilled rainwater down the red brickwork to pool on the uneven flagged floor.
Unclipping her seat belt, Marnie got out into the rain and glanced around at the garden, a few stunted bushes and a patchy lawn with more barren earth than grass.
She turned just as Bev Harvey walked out of the house, her face etched with the same look of horror she had been wearing when they found Tam Whitlow.
As Marnie walked over, Bev tried to smile but her eyes were still full of fear and disgust.
‘You drew the short straw again I see,’ Marnie said as she reached the house and stepped into the hallway.
‘I wouldn’t mind but I’m meant to be going out on a date tonight, the fancy restaurant is booked but how the hell can I eat after seeing what’s upstairs?’
‘You could always become a veggie.’
Bev’s eyes widened in shock. ‘But I love my meat!’
Marnie glanced towards the stairs. ‘OK, so what have we got?’
‘The body’s upstairs – the bedroom on the right – whoever did it cut his head clean off.’
‘Sergeant Hammond, you are here to assist me, not standing gossiping like a bloody fishwife.’
Marnie looked up to see DI Rogers standing at the top of the stairs, his hands in his pockets, his hair plastered to his head.
‘Now, if you’ve finished chatting then I suggest you get up here and earn your salary for a change,’ with that he spun right and vanished along the landing.
Marnie looked at Bev who shrugged apologetically. ‘Sorry, boss, he turned up just before you got here.’
‘Like a bad penny,’ Marnie sighed as they headed for the stairs.
Reaching the top, she turned right with Bev close on her heels, Rogers was standing in the bedroom doorway with his back to them. The DI looked over his shoulder, his chin jutting out, his eyes narrowed. He stepped to the side, keeping his eyes locked on Marnie, waiting for the gasp of shock.
Marnie steeled herself as she looked down whilst trying to block out the offal-like stink that filled the room.
‘Are you feeling all right, Sergeant?’ Rogers asked, without any hint of sympathy.
Marnie didn’t reply, didn’t even look at the DI. Instead she glanced down at the headless body, her heart rearing at the grisly sight.
‘Is Doc Kelly on his way?’ she asked as she turned to Bev.
‘I put the call in so he should be en route.’
‘What about SOCO?’
‘Excuse me but who’s in charge here?’ Rogers snapped.
Marnie slowly turned to her superior. ‘Sorry, sir, just checking.’
‘So, you think I’m incapable of managing a crime scene, is that what you’re suggesting?’
> Marnie could see the petulant anger building in Rogers’s eyes as she shook her head. ‘Of course not,’ she replied.
The DI glared at her, looking for any hint of sarcasm, Marnie kept her face impassive as she met his venomous gaze.
‘Right, Hammond, I want the rest of the house checking, and the garden, so take Harvey with you and sort it. If you find anything suspicious then I want to know about it.’
‘You mean you haven’t checked the other rooms?’ Marnie asked in disbelief.
The look of anger flared in Rogers’s insipid eyes.
‘I shouldn’t have to explain that a crime scene needs to be secure,’ he snarled as he pointed at the body on the bed. ‘This, sergeant, is a crime scene, now do your job and let me do mine!’ he barked.
Marnie felt a barbed reply form on her lips but she turned away and grimaced at Bev before walking from the room and back along the landing in silence. Reaching the first door on the right, Marnie tapped it open with her foot, the smell of sweaty feet and testosterone wafted out of the room and both women scowled as they stepped inside.
The bed was unmade, the plain white duvet lay on the floor and Marnie thought about the cellar room with the single bed and the filthy duvet that had more than likely been Rowan Hall’s bed for the past five weeks. The thought made her anger towards Rogers flair, if he had done his job properly then John Hall would have been found sooner and they would have pulled out all the stops to find his daughter. However, as things stood, Rowan would have suffered for longer, no doubt praying that the police would be out in force looking for her, desperately trying to keep the flame of hope alive and Rogers had done nothing to follow the leads.
Shaking her head to dislodge the feelings of disgust, Marnie walked around the bed and looked into the wardrobe. The space was empty apart from a couple of odd socks on the bottom shelf, sliding the door to the left revealed even more empty space.
‘I’ll check the bathroom,’ Bev said and Marnie nodded as she turned and looked around the room.
There was no dressing table, just a battered-looking running machine in the corner of the room, the obligatory pair of underpants dangled off the handle as if they had been kicked there by the owner. The view from the window revealed a lawn made up of scrub grass, over to the left stood a rusting Transit van standing on breezeblocks.
Marnie was in the process of bending to look under the bed when the scream erupted from the landing, she heard a yelp followed by a heavy thud and then a man flew past the open bedroom door. Leaping across the bed, Marnie bulleted across the room in time to see the figure hurtling down the stairs, his black coat billowing behind. She glanced right, Bev was sprawled on the floor, one hand held to her head. Turning left she saw Rogers standing in the bedroom doorway, his hands dangling by his side, his eyes saucer like as he looked at Marnie.
‘You OK, Bev?’ she asked, moving towards her colleague.
Bev managed to nod. ‘I’ll live,’ she said.
Marnie threw Rogers a poisonous look and then she was running for the stairs, her heart pounding as she dashed down to the hallway and sprinted out through the front door. The man was twenty yards away, still running full tilt, his arms pumping, his long legs eating up the ground.
Reaching up, Marnie gave her ponytail a vicious tug and then she exploded forwards, her face set with determination, her eyes locked on the running man. She saw him throw a look over his shoulder, his face twisted with hatred and then he turned back and concentrated on running.
By the time he made it to the road, Marnie had closed the gap to fifteen feet, the man was big which also meant he wouldn’t be able to keep up the ferocious pace for long.
She sprinted out onto the street to see him standing at the kerb as if waiting to hail a taxi, his face stark with anger.
‘Fucking bastard!’ he screamed into the squally air.
Marnie slowed her pace as he turned towards her, breathing heavily, his face coated with rain and sweat, his jaw clamped.
‘Your lift has vanished I see,’ Marnie said as she came to a halt.
The man glared and then he jabbed out a finger. ‘I didn’t kill that fucker,’ he snarled.
Marnie edged closer. ‘So, what were you doing at the house and why did you assault my colleague and run?’
She watched as his features twisted with anguish and indecision, then he blew out and squared his shoulders. ‘Come any closer and I’ll snap your bastard neck,’ he warned.
Marnie shrugged as if unconcerned with the threat. ‘We both know you can’t outrun me—’
‘I don’t need to outrun you, I can knock the shit out of you and walk away.’
Marnie felt the anger inside flare and then she smiled. ‘I don’t doubt you’re right but all I have to do is keep my distance because within the next few minutes a Transit van will come around that corner with half a dozen officers in it, you will be Tasered and locked in a cell until you decide to cooperate.’
‘I’ll never fucking talk!’ the man bellowed.
‘That’s what they all say but you were running from a house in which a man has been slaughtered—’
‘I told you, I didn’t do it.’
‘So, who did and why has your driver left you stranded?’
The man stepped towards Marnie, his face stark with fury, his hands opening and closing as if he couldn’t wait to get them around Marnie’s throat.
When the sound of the siren split the air, she saw him snarl as he realised he was seconds away from being collared.
‘Cunt!’ he spat and bulleted forwards.
Marnie didn’t run, she didn’t back off, instead she waited until he was almost upon her and then she dipped low and to the right, avoiding his outstretched arms before slamming her left elbow into his ribs.
The man grunted, thrown off course. He smashed into the lamp post with a sickening crunch. Turning, blood streaming from where his nose had collided with the metal post, he came after her again like some cumbersome automaton, his face flushed with rage and blood.
Marnie could hear the siren growing louder by the second as the man lashed out his right arm, fist clenched. She ducked her head, her right leg shot out, her boot slamming into his left knee. This time the attacker did more than grunt, he bellowed in pain, knee twisted out of shape, his leg gave way and he crashed to the floor splitting both lips and cracking his chin, just as the Transit screeched to halt by the kerb.
‘Everything OK, boss?’ PC Paul Clark asked as he leapt out from behind the wheel with two other officers close behind.
Marnie nodded as she looked down at the injured man, his eyes blazing up at her with hatred.
‘Just get him cuffed and back to the station …’
‘I’ll fucking remember you,’ he snarled up at her.
Marnie tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. ‘No need to remember me, we’ll be seeing a lot of one another over the next few days, Mr…?’
‘Get fucked!’ he bellowed.
Marnie turned to Paul. ‘If Mr Get Fucked gives you any trouble, Taser him,’ she said.
Paul Clark stifled a laugh as Marnie turned and walked away.
Stevie Harrow watched her vanish back down the drive. Then he turned and looked at the space where the car should have been. Acton had been keeping watch while he and Westy had gone into the house but now he had scarpered, leaving them to fucking dangle.
He had no idea where Paul West was, he had been out in the garden having a cig when the filth had arrived so no doubt Westy had headed for the fence at the back of the house to escape into the open fields beyond. As far as Harrow was concerned that was fine, he wouldn’t have expected Paul to hang about with the coppers closing in but Acton was a different matter entirely.
‘Are you going to behave yourself?’ Paul Clark asked.
Harrow sneered as he raised his fists. ‘What the fuck do you think, you piece of shit.’
Five seconds later, Stevie Harrow was jittering as the Taser did its job.
; 62
The woman looked out of the window at the garden, her eyes taking in the trees and bushes dripping with rainwater, her face serene as she sighed in satisfaction. At her back, the logs crackled in the open fire, the faint scent of applewood scented the air. She sniffed, her eyes closed for a moment as the memories pushed at her senses. Her father had always used applewood in the old family home, she could see him now, stacking the wood in the grate, his huge, calloused hands sorting the timber just so, his brow, as always, was furrowed, his eyes – a match for his daughter’s – were bright with dark anger and malice.
This time when the woman sighed it held a note of bitter sadness, she had loved her father though she doubted whether anyone would believe that fact. They just saw a hard man, a man who cared little for the world and how he was perceived by others. She thought back over the years back to when she had been a child, the family home had been perpetually cold, the furniture even back then had been careworn, each room had the basics and nothing more. The six bedrooms had a bed and a wardrobe. The kitchen had been huge, the Aga rumbling away in the corner. Though it failed to heat the huge house, she could recall sitting on the flagged floor with her back to the oven trying to absorb the meagre heat.
At her back, a knot in the wood popped with the heat and she opened her eyes, feeling the warmth at her back. Raising her right hand, her fingers ran over the string of pearls around her neck like a catholic rolling the rosary beads between her fingers.
When her phone rang she lifted it from her pocket and tapped at the screen without bothering to see who was calling.
‘Hello, Mr Williams, I assume you have news for me?’ she asked as she continued her vigil at the window.
‘The police arrived at Collier’s house.’
‘And?’
‘One of them got away but the police collared the second man.’
‘And what about Phelps and the girl?’
‘They’re safe, don’t worry about that,’ Williams replied.
‘One thing you will learn, Mr Williams, is that I never worry, I leave all that to the people I employ.’
Cut The Threads Page 19