‘Someone’s coming,’ said Tulloch as we heard noises inside the house, the rustle of paper, a clanging and a soft cursing sound. Then the door opened inwards. Tulloch stepped forward and held up her warrant card as a thin, unhealthy-looking boy of about twenty stuttered that he didn’t know where Emma Boston was, he had nothing to do with Emma Boston, his own flat was below hers, he hadn’t been in earlier that day when it had happened and it had all been some serious shit, man.
‘Shut up and step aside,’ said Tulloch. ‘Mark, see he doesn’t go anywhere.’
After a brief argument with Joesbury about who was going to go in first, Tulloch led the way along the corridor and up the stairs. The boy followed, then Joesbury, then one of the uniformed constables. The other stayed at the front door.
We waited. I saw a light go on in a first-floor window. The uniformed constable had a short conversation with someone on his radio. I was itching to get out of the car. Knew Tulloch would tear me apart if I did.
Emma Boston had been obnoxious and opinionated and in a position to make life pretty uncomfortable for me. But I’d actually quite liked her. I really didn’t want to think about what Tulloch and Joesbury might have found in the room upstairs.
Noises on the stairs. I saw Joesbury’s jeans-clad legs, then both he and Tulloch came into view. In the dim hall lights I scanned both faces. They looked tense, puzzled, not shocked.
‘Is she there?’ I asked, realizing I’d got out of the car.
‘Place has been broken into,’ said Joesbury. ‘Trashed about a bit. No sign of Emma.’
‘About ten o’clock this morning, according to her downstairs neighbour,’ said Tulloch. ‘He heard crashing about but didn’t bother investigating. He didn’t see anything. Says he didn’t hear anyone calling for help either.’
‘She doesn’t live alone,’ I said. ‘Any sign of her boyfriend?’
Tulloch shook her head, just as the uniformed officer who’d accompanied them inside appeared, with one hand on the boy’s shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement and turned.
‘Oh thank God,’ I said, stepping forward.
Not three metres away, in the light of a streetlamp, stood Emma Boston, her burned scar livid against her pale face, looking pissed off but very much alive.
31
‘YOU’VE HAD HOW MANY TEXT MESSAGES FROM EMMA Boston today?’ Tulloch asked me.
‘Six,’ I repeated. ‘The first late this morning and then at two-hourly intervals. With a break for lunch.’
Emma, in another interview room at the station, had already confirmed that her flat had been broken into early that day and her phone taken. The text messages I’d been getting all day could not have been from her and, so far, I was managing not to think about the full implications of that.
Emma had also identified the sunglasses and the shoe I’d found at Forest Hill as hers. When asked why she hadn’t reported the break-in she’d given us a withering look. Clearly yet another Londoner who didn’t have much confidence in the Met’s ability to investigate burglaries.
‘Did you reply to any of her texts?’ asked Joesbury. I explained about my brief, polite responses.
‘The sixth being the one you got shortly before half past nine this evening?’ asked Tulloch. ‘The one that came in just after we all left?’
‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘That was the one asking me to meet Emma at Forest Hill.’
‘If Boston’s telling the truth, someone broke into her flat and stole her phone just to get access to you,’ said Joesbury. I ignored him. I really could have done without him in the room. I needed my wits about me and, somehow, they never seemed to be when he was around.
‘I tried to phone her after the one asking me to go to Forest Hill,’ I told Tulloch. ‘She didn’t answer, just sent another message, asking me to come. I called it into control and then I went.’
Tulloch nodded. ‘And then shortly after you got there, you received the last one? The one saying Help me?’
‘Whoever sent that had seen you arrive,’ said Joesbury. ‘Did you notice anyone in the street? See anything unusual?’
‘Nothing,’ I said to Tulloch. ‘It all looked completely normal. Until I saw the sunglasses on the fire escape. And the broken window at the top.’
‘When I saw you, you said you’d heard someone screaming,’ said Joesbury. ‘When was this?’
I took a breath and gave myself a second. ‘It was when I was at the top of the fire escape,’ I said to the tabletop. ‘I heard what I thought was screaming, coming from inside.’
‘Inarticulate screaming or words?’ asked Joesbury.
I shook my head. ‘Just screaming, I think. I don’t remember any words.’
‘Man or woman?’ he asked.
Oh, could the guy not go get a cup of coffee? Another deep breath. ‘I’m not sure, it only lasted a second. Female, I think.’
‘How old? Child, adult, elderly?’
If I did much more deep breathing I’d be hyperventilating.‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘It might not even have come from the building. It could have been kids near by. I was scared and I wasn’t thinking straight.’
‘When I found you, you weren’t scared, you were petrified,’ said Joesbury. ‘Why would you be that frightened if you’d just heard kids?’
I turned round so quickly I almost toppled the chair. ‘Well, shit, let me think,’ I said, speaking directly to Joesbury for the first time since we’d entered the room. ‘Eight days ago a woman was stabbed to death. She died in my arms. Maybe I’m still a bit twitchy.’
Joesbury was just thrilled to have broken my cool. ‘Past catching up on you, Flint?’ he said, leaning back in his chair as I glowered at him. ‘Any of your old friends been in touch?’ He turned to Tulloch. ‘Did you know your new pet was cautioned for possession when she was a teenager?’
‘Yes, I did actually,’ said Tulloch, as I looked at her in surprise and Joesbury frowned. ‘And don’t tell me you haven’t come across that before.’
Tulloch’s support gave me that extra bit of courage I needed. To go too far. ‘Why are you even here, Joesbury?’ I said. ‘You’re not part of this investigation.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Well, you’re certainly not,’ he replied. ‘And yet you keep finding yourself in the thick of it. I have to wonder why that is. And another thing I’m wondering, Flint, is where you were before ten thirty this morning, which is the time I’ve been told you arrived for work.’
‘Mark—’
‘At home,’ I said, interrupting Tulloch. ‘I needed to see my landlord about something. I had permission from the sergeant to come in late.’
‘So your landlord can confirm this?’ Joesbury wanted to know.
‘He phoned to rearrange,’ I said. ‘What is this about?’
‘OK, you two …’
I turned to Tulloch. ‘I want him out of here,’ I said, as her eyebrows shot into her hair. ‘I want him out of here or I want a solicitor.’
Joesbury was smiling at me now. And it wasn’t his usual grin, this one was mean. ‘Something to hide, Flint?’ he smirked.
‘Fuck you.’
‘Mark—’
‘OK, OK. I’ll catch you ladies later.’ He pushed himself up from his chair and sauntered out. The door closed and I dropped my head on to my hands. Tulloch didn’t speak. After a second I heard her stand up and cross the room. A moment later a box of tissues had been pushed in front of me. I hadn’t even realized I was crying.
‘Bull in a china shop doesn’t really cover it,’ she said. ‘But he has a point. Someone does seem fixated on you. We have to ask why.’
I took off my glasses and wiped my eyes. What the hell had got into me? I never cried. Tulloch got up again and brought me a glass of water from a tray on the side table. As she held the glass out, the sleeve of her shirt fell back and I caught a glimpse of a scar on her right wrist. It was about two inches long, running across the inside of her wrist, pale and ugly against her café-au-
lait skin.
What had she said in the cathedral last night? Scars run deep? I hadn’t taken her literally. As I took the glass, she pulled her hand away and tugged the shirt cuff back into place. I drank most of the water, blew my nose and then polished and replaced my specs.
‘It’s what the Ripper did,’ I said, when I trusted myself to speak. ‘He picked people out – people in the police, the press, even the local vigilante committees. He picked them out and he sent them messages. He played with them. Our guy’s just following the historical pattern.’
There was a knock on the door.
‘’Scuse me, Boss.’ It was DS Anderson. ‘SOCs are closing up Forest Hill. They’ll go back first thing, but nothing else to report for now. Entry through the fire escape, as we thought. No sign of how he got out. Boston’s mobile and the other personal effects have gone to Forensics. There are traces of fingerprints, but it will take a while to sort them all out.’
‘What about the body part?’ asked Tulloch, looking exhausted, and I realized the last thing she needed was Joesbury and me going at each other like a cock-fight.
‘Gone to the mortuary at St Thomas’s,’ Anderson replied, his eyes flicking from me to Tulloch. ‘They’ll have someone look at it first thing in the morning. Let us know when we can go over.’
‘Thanks,’ said Tulloch.
‘Could easily be a prank, you know, Boss,’ said Anderson. ‘Lots of medical students in this city. Could just be someone winding us up, sending us on a wild goose chase over to Mandela Way, then leaving behind a little present from anatomy class for Flint and me to find.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ she agreed. ‘How’s the missing-persons search?’
‘We’re running the check for women aged sixteen to sixty reported missing in London over the last week,’ said Anderson. ‘Nothing so far.’
‘Thanks, Neil. I’ll be down in a second.’
Anderson gave me one last puzzled glance and left the room.
‘Something you need to know, Lacey,’ said Tulloch, as I looked up. She’d taken Joesbury’s chair. ‘Mark persuaded the police doctor to sign him off fit for active duty and I’ve had him seconded on to the team for the next few weeks.’
Oh great.
‘Our killer overstepped the line tonight,’ she went on. ‘Cutting out women’s organs and leaving them lying around the place is a step too far in my book. I intend to catch him now.’
I waited. I could tell from the look on her face that she had more to say.
‘But I’m not one of these macho types who think they can do it by themselves,’ she said. ‘I need Mark. I think perhaps I might need you too. And it would really help if the two of you—’
‘I know.’ I didn’t give her chance to finish. I was feeling pretty ashamed of myself by this time. ‘Of course. I’m sorry.’
‘What will happen to Emma and her boyfriend?’ I asked, as Tulloch and I made our way downstairs.
‘I’ll give them the option of staying here for the night,’ said Tulloch. ‘If they’ve got somewhere else to go they can leave, but the flat is out of bounds until our people have finished with it.’
‘Emma’s going to run the story first thing in the morning,’ I said.
‘At the moment, she doesn’t have a story,’ replied Tulloch. ‘She doesn’t know where we found her phone or what else was there. I’ve told her there’ll be an announcement in the next couple of days and that I’ll give her fifteen minutes alone with me afterwards. As long as she continues to keep you out of the papers.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. We’d arrived at the incident room. Way after midnight, it was still full. Joesbury was in there, talking quietly to DS Anderson. As we walked in everyone looked up.
Tulloch raised her voice. ‘OK, we’re assuming there is another victim out there until we get confirmation the body part is either from an animal or a fake,’ she said to the room at large. ‘Now, here is the problem. When Flint arrived at Forest Hill earlier this evening she heard a woman’s scream. She’s pretty certain it came from inside the building, so we might be forgiven for assuming it was the voice of our victim.’
‘Seems fair enough,’ agreed Anderson.
‘So what happened to her?’ asked Tulloch. ‘I mean the 95 per cent of her that isn’t currently in the mortuary at St Thomas’s?’
‘It can’t have been the victim,’ I said. ‘There just wasn’t time. It could only have been five, maybe ten minutes from when I heard the screaming to when we found the phone and the dummy in the pool. It just wouldn’t be possible to kill someone, cut out major organs, pop one of them in a plastic bag and then leave the building with a body over your shoulder. Sorry to be glib, it just wouldn’t.’
‘You wouldn’t think so, would you?’ agreed Tulloch, before turning to Anderson. ‘SOCs found nothing else down there?’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing so far.’
‘I was wrong then,’ I said. ‘It must have come from outside the pool.’
‘We’ve got uniform still searching the surrounding area,’ said Anderson. ‘The body could have been dumped near by.’
‘There still wouldn’t be time,’ I said. ‘Wherever the voice came from, there still wouldn’t be time for him to do – what he did – and leave. The screaming can’t have been connected to what we found.’
‘Blood-curdling screams within a fifty-yard radius of a body part is stretching coincidence for me,’ said Joesbury. ‘Could you have heard a recording?’
I nodded. I hadn’t thought of that.
‘You think the killer recorded the victim’s screams and then played them back when he knew Lacey would hear them?’ asked Anderson.
‘Someone wanted her in that building,’ said Joesbury. ‘He practically pinned up arrow signs.’
Tulloch gave me one last dirty look. I still wasn’t forgiven for going into the pool alone. ‘OK everyone, if you’re not doing something essential and urgent, I want you home,’ she called out. ‘There’ll be a team briefing in the morning, depending upon what time we’re needed at the mortuary.’
Around us, people started to leave. Tulloch turned to me.
‘Your car is still at Forest Hill, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right,’ I said, wondering if perhaps Stenning would offer to drive me over. I really didn’t fancy getting a cab.
‘I’m going to have it brought back in,’ said Tulloch. ‘Just in case whoever lured you into the pool building decided to touch it when you were inside.’
Great. I was losing my car for the second time in just over a week.
Tulloch raised her voice again. ‘I need someone to take DC Flint home and check her flat out,’ she said.
‘I’ll do it,’ said Joesbury, getting up off the desk he’d been leaning against. ‘I have to drive past her place anyway,’ he added. ‘And besides, I think Flint and I need to bury the hatchet.’
‘I could get a cab …’ I tried.
‘No,’ said Tulloch, glancing my way. ‘You’re staying with someone I trust and Mark lives just across the river from you.’ She leaned over the desk to reach the phone and caught the look on my face. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Flint,’ she snapped. ‘He doesn’t bite.’
Knowing that to argue any further would make me look childish and make a nonsense of what I’d just promised Tulloch, I picked up my bag and headed for the door. As I passed Tulloch, I saw her giving Joesbury one of her eyebrows-to-the-ceiling looks. That was him told, too.
32
BEST INTENTIONS OR NOT, THERE WASN’T MUCH BURYING OF hatchets in evidence on the drive home. Joesbury turned on the car stereo as we pulled out of Lewisham car park and cranked up the volume. I sat in the passenger seat, hugging my bag to my chest, listening to a hypnotic blend of house and jazz club music. After a while the bright orange and white lights of south London started to hurt my eyes and I closed them. I was a lot more tired than I’d realized.
The city had quietened down by this time and it didn’t take us long. Joesbur
y slowed the car as we turned into my road and I opened my eyes.
‘Thank you,’ I said, as he pulled up to the kerb. I made myself blink, wishing my head didn’t feel so fuzzy. The hot, noisy car had acted like a drug. I needed cold air and silence. As I pushed open the door I noticed he’d turned off the engine. Without looking back, I got out and stood up. I heard a door slamming and realized Joesbury, too, was out of the car.
‘You’re not coming in,’ I said, turning to face him.
He didn’t flinch. ‘Wrong,’ he said over the roof of the car. ‘I’m not leaving you until I know there are no bogeymen under the bed and that all your entries and exits are secure. Tully would never let me hear the end of it. Would you like me to go in first?’
I turned and walked slowly down the steps. I took my time finding keys, although I knew exactly where in my bag they’d be. All the while I could feel him, inches away, hear him breathing softly.
Fuck it, nobody came into my flat. Nobody.
‘Would you mind checking the space under the basement steps?’ I asked him as I put the key in the lock. ‘I’ve had some real low-lifes hide under there and spring out at me.’
‘You’re wasting your breath, DC Flint,’ he said. ‘It’s impossible to insult me.’
I turned on the spot, looked him up and down. ‘Maybe I just haven’t seen enough of you yet,’ I replied.
For a second I thought he might laugh. Then both corners of his mouth stretched into a slow smile. He didn’t take his eyes off me. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘that sounds like a bridge we should cross when we come to it.’
I turned back to the door, unlocked it, found the light switch and stepped inside. What the hell was I thinking? That was twice now I’d given this man the come-on. Even if he hadn’t been one of the most obnoxious men I’d met in a long time, there was almost certainly something close and romantic between him and Tulloch. I dropped my bag on a chair and walked over to the fireplace, automatically taking off my glasses and leaving them on the mantelpiece. Just get it over with. Let him do what he had to do and leave.
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