The Waiting Room (#4 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series)

by Catriona King

  ***

  10am

  Craig pulled-up a chair out on the open-plan floor and beckoned Liam and Davy to join him. Nicky lifted her notepad from the desk and pulled up a chair beside him, then glanced around her. The floor felt empty without Annette here.

  “Sir, when does Annette get back? Her exam was yesterday wasn’t it?”

  Craig replied without lifting his head from his file. Not from rudeness, but because Nicky saw everything and she would read the truth in his eyes.

  “I told her to take the rest of the week, Nick. She hasn’t had a holiday in months and we can cope.” He lifted his eyes, scanning their faces, then said wryly. “Two murders in a week is nothing to us, is it?”

  Liam guffawed and the rest laughed with him, breaking the awkwardness. Nicky knew Craig hadn’t answered her real question but she left it for another day. He was still talking.

  “Besides, we have Inspector McNulty kindly helping out with Hannah Benner, and Karen helping Davy.” He turned to Davy quickly. “Actually Davy, it mightn’t be a bad idea if Karen joined us on alternate briefings. Would that be OK with you?”

  Davy nodded regally, unthreatened by the idea of another analyst. It would have been a different reaction last year when he was new and shy, but he’d proved himself repeatedly now. He was sure of his place in the team so he could afford to be generous.

  “Karen’s not in today, s…sir. But I’ll get her here tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. I’ve also asked for Sergeant McLean to be seconded to us for the remainder of the case, to cover for Annette. Liam, he’ll report to you if that’s OK?”

  Liam puffed out his chest and nodded. Nicky smiled to herself knowing that Craig was easing the team’s transition to him becoming superintendent, and Annette taking Inspector rank. The realisation hit her that they would need more junior staff to work under two Inspectors. Perhaps Jake McLean would be permanent? If not him then some other sergeant would.

  “OK, let’s start. First, I’ll update you on yesterday’s interview with Sylvia Bryce. I’ll come back to Dr Morgan’s interview at the end. Then Liam, can you cover the searches? Davy, update us on Paul Ripley and the houses’ ownership. And if you’ve had a chance to look at the records we got from the search that would be great as well. I’ll wind up with Morgan and Hannah Benner’s status.” He took a deep drink of black coffee before starting.

  “OK. Sylvia Bryce is a Madam. She started her career in the early 2000s in Ballymena, running small groups of girls out of back-street locations. She was lifted plenty of times on suspicion but unfortunately no charges stuck. Then, in 2010, she mysteriously ups-sticks and moves to a large house off the Malone Road – in Marrion Park. She also has an office in Cornmarket; carpets, coffee-machine, the works. When she was questioned about where the money came from she implied that an old friend had left her something in their will.”

  Nicky snorted and pursed her lips disapprovingly. Some people would do anything for money.

  Davy leaned forward. “Her address is Marrion Park?” He was new to the information. “But that’s w…where Ripley was found!”

  Craig nodded. “You’re right, Davy. Just next door in fact. Sylvia Bryce lives in number 42 and Paul Ripley’s body was found at number 40. Number 40 was also the address where Hannah Benner was told to meet her customer. And where she saw Tim Morgan driving in. Hannah Benner was also one of our murder victim Britt Ackerman’s best friends.”

  “Not coincidence, boss.”

  “I agree. But we’ll need watertight proof to tie our two murders together, and to link them to Bryce and her circle.”

  “Evil bastards.”

  Craig turned quickly towards the words, surprised at them coming from Nicky’s mouth. She and Annette rarely swore, but where children or women were involved they’d make an exception. He smiled at her and she blushed.

  “Bryce is denying everything of course. I’ll come back to her at the end, but that’s the context of the searches. We had warrants for her home and office, but unfortunately someone got to her home first. We believe they took Hannah Benner’s photograph and intend to silence her. That’s why we have her in protective custody.” He nodded towards Liam, handing over.

  “Right, well. The search of the office was good. And bad. The good bit was that we found lots of records; girl’s names, ages, addresses, next-of-kin. Or rather, no next-of-kin in most cases.”

  Nicky glanced up from her shorthand. “No next-of-kin? But surely they were all young? Wouldn’t most of their parents still have been alive?”

  Liam nodded. “Aye, they were all between eighteen and twenty-five, so that’s what you’d expect, right enough.”

  He continued. “Aye, well, as I said, there were lots of girl’s records. We’re going to start looking for them today and let’s just pray that they’re all living happy lives somewhere. The bad bit is that the records go back to 2007, so this was going on long before Bryce moved to Belfast. I’ll contact Ballymena and see what they have on her.”

  “Sergeant McLean can help you there, Liam. He’s done a bit of digging into her past already.”

  “Great, all help gratefully received. Anyway, Bryce’s house was broken into and we think that nothing was taken except paperwork. The place was clean and tidy, except for a wrecked filing cabinet in an upstairs bedroom, so whoever did it knew what they were looking for. C.S.I. did their best, but I doubt that we’ll get a print. This was a professional job and I’m betting they won’t have left a trace.”

  Liam took a quick swig of his tea and made a face, then shot Nicky a pleading look. She raised her eyebrow and went to fill the kettle.

  “Now, the lovely Sylvia Bryce, or Josie Rocks as she once was. It doesn’t have quite the same ring, now does it?” He laughed and they all laughed with him. “Our Sylvia was attacked at her house on Monday, by a man who she says she doesn’t know.” He snorted derisively. “She did a sketch with the artist at Stranmillis that looked more like someone from Dallas than anyone real. When we questioned her on it she clammed up. That could be bravado or fear, but given what they did to Britt Ackerman my money’s on fear.”

  Craig nodded.

  “The boss engineered a little encounter between her and Dr Morgan in High Street’s reception. That showed that she definitely knew him and he scared the bejeesus out of her. She denied everything, of course, but we caught it on tape and the boss will show you that in a minute. My view is that she’s in with a bad crowd. I think she’s been procuring for them for years. And now that things have gone wrong with Britt Ackerman they’re cleaning house. She’s dangerous to them, so they want to shut her up for good.”

  He sat back with a smug look indicating that he’d finished. Craig turned to Davy.

  “Davy?”

  Davy was deep in thought, picking at his nail varnish. He jumped when Craig said his name, knocking over his dead coffee cup and blushing furiously. Thankfully the cup was empty. Liam took the break as a chance to brew a fresh pot of tea, and after a minute they settled again. Craig waved Davy on just as his blush was subsiding.

  “Paul Ripley w…was very high-up in the church. I mean, right hand of God high-up. The only one above him was a Dr Henry and he’s about ninety.”

  Craig rubbed his face. “How does someone so young get to the top of the church? He was only in his forties.”

  “That’s what I thought, s…so I did a bit more digging. It turns out that Mr Ripley was actually Earl Ripley. His family have a s…stately home just outside Birmingham. From my research I think he was the family black s…sheep.”

  Craig’s eyes widened suddenly, realising that they had two bodies and no relatives had identified them yet. In his urgency to stop more killings he’d completely forgotten the next-of–kin. Nicky saw his look and patted his arm reassuringly.

  “Don’t worry sir. I knew Annette normally chased the relatives for you, so I did it instead. Britt Ackerman’s father is coming in today to do the formal I.D. and I got in touch with
the Ripley’s as soon as Davy told me their name. One of them is flying over from Birmingham tomorrow.”

  Craig exhaled noisily and smiled at her, making a mental note to organise some flowers for her desk. They really needed more staff. Annette’s time off was showing just how much extra work she’d been doing.

  Davy restarted. “OK, Paul Ripley. It was the driving under the influence charge in Dublin that first identified him, but I did a bit more digging. He w…was also lifted for kerb-crawling in 2001. And again in 2005, in a police prostitution sting. Both times were in Ballymena, and doing a cross-check, both of the prostitutes were run by, guess w…who?”

  “Sylvia Bryce.”

  “Correct. And in 2008 Paul Ripley gave Bryce a character reference when she was accused of running a brothel. The charge was dismissed.”

  Paul Ripley knew Sylvia Bryce, and so did Tim Morgan. And Morgan was seen entering the house where Ripley was killed. Davy’s next words vocalised Craig’s thoughts.

  “We’ve hit a dead end on the house w…where you found Ripley - the dummy company front is holding up. But the forensic accountants are on it now, so hopefully they can get behind that. The good news is that Mrs Bryce’s house is owned by the s…same company. That’s another connection between them. And w…when we find out who owns the company that might implicate others.”

  “That’s brilliant work Davy, well done. Say thanks to Karen for her help when you see her.”

  Craig shot him a wary look, knowing they’d only got the files from Bryce’s office the day before. And that they were all working too hard already. But he still hoped Davy had managed to find something on them, so he asked the question tentatively.

  “Anything on the office files yet?”

  Davy’s pale face took on a sudden darkness and Nicky was sitting close enough to see a tear flash into his eye. His shoulders drooped, giving him a funereal air, instead of his usual Emo cool. He nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  A chill permeated the small group. Craig’s sense of dread grew, but it still underestimated the facts. What came next horrified them all.

  “We had over a hundred girls’ names, so I started running them in batches. I ran the first ten through the database and they all came back as missing persons. Still. One since 2007. I ran the next ten and it was the s…same, except…”

  He hesitated and Nicky could see perspiration forming on his smooth forehead. He looked like a child with a fever. She understood why after his next words.

  “Except two of that group w…were found. Both dead. Their bodies were left at different locations near Belfast, in May and September 2010. The cases were never solved. I’m running the third group now.”

  Liam’s mug stopped mid-air, its journey to his mouth no longer seeming important. Craig’s face paled as he realised the implications. There could be dozens more girls dead. He shocked them all by smashing his palm down hard on the desk. “Damn.”

  The word echoed around the vast floor, stilling people at their distant work stations and turning all eyes towards the small group. Craig rose without a word and entered his small glass office. They all followed and there Davy detailed how Britt Ackerman’s murder was only the tip of the iceberg. The men they were dealing with were worse than criminal; they defied description.

  ***

  “I need more staff, sir.” Craig was leaning forward on Terry Harrison’s desk, staring at him intently. “This case is going to blow wide open soon and we need to be on top of it.”

  Harrison stared up at the man who was taking his job in a month’s time, unsure whether he wanted to help him break a case that might make his career. But then…he was still Craig’s line manager for a few weeks, so he could control the direction that he took.

  He did the calculation in his head and Craig saw him doing it, disgusted that he could hesitate, even for a minute. Even more disgusted that he was agreeing based on self-interest, rather than any sense of right and wrong. He bit back the urge to tell him where to stuff his extra staff, but the missing girls were worth any pride that he had.

  Harrison slicked back his hair with a manicured hand and stood up, bringing his nose level with Craig’s chin. He saw the disparity and quickly nodded Craig to sit, redressing the imbalance.

  “You know you’ll only have them for the duration of the case?” If his calculations were correct it wouldn’t last out the month.

  “Yes.” Craig couldn’t bring himself to squeeze out a ‘sir’.

  Harrison noticed the omission but ignored it. He would take his revenge in the future. “How many staff do you need?”

  “I need full time use of Karen Atherton, one of the Unit’s analysts. D.I. McNulty from Limavady, Sergeant Jake McLean from Stranmillis, and two other sergeants; one uniform and one detective. That should be enough.”

  “McNulty? Aren’t you and she in a relationship?”

  Craig glared at him defiantly. It was irrelevant, she was already here and she was good.

  “With all due respect sir, that isn’t pertinent to the case. She’s already here on a few days leave and she stepped in to help us protect Hannah Benner.”

  Harrison’s face reddened and Craig thought he was going to burst a vessel.

  “Don’t you tell me what’s pertinent, Craig! I’ll decide that. You can keep her until Sergeant McElroy gets back, or should I say Inspector McElroy. She’s passed her board so you can call her and congratulate her now. But as soon as she’s back, D.I. McNulty goes straight back to Limavady. I’ll be there full-time soon and I’ll need her.”

  Craig could feel his hand twitch as the urge to grab Harrison by the throat grew. He pushed it down hard, focusing on the case. But he knew right then that the man in front of him would never give Julia a transfer. They would have some difficult choices to make soon. He frowned and nodded, turning to leave the room.

  “Did I say that that you could leave?”

  Craig stopped in his tracks and turned, a look of open contempt on his face. Harrison smirked and kept on talking.

  “No, I didn’t think so. I’ll put in for the additional staff, but the G8 summit starts in Fermanagh on Monday so deployments will be subject to approval by the new Assistant Chief Constable. In the meantime, second Sergeant McLean and D.I. McNulty, and borrow the analyst. If they aren’t approved they’ll all have to go back, so make the most of them over the next few days.”

  Harrison turned his back abruptly and walked to the window, dismissing him. Craig didn’t give a damn about his giant ego. He was a little man with too much power and they had much bigger fish to worry about.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Wharf House Remand Centre.

  Sylvia Bryce peered through the window of the small laundry room, catching a glimpse of cloud as it drifted across the sun. She turned back to the dryer she was unloading and frowned as she broke a nail. If they convicted her, this would be her life for twenty years. She’d be seventy-something when she got out.

  She shuddered at the thought of decades of bad hairstyles and poor conversation. She’d miss shopping in Victoria Square most of all. Her office was close enough to lunch at Ivory every day, then wander through the House of Fraser to buy some small trinket.

  Anger rose up in her, and she threw the sheet she was folding in a heap on the floor. God knows she wasn’t perfect, and most people would think she deserved whatever she got. But she’d come from nothing, and no-one knew what that meant unless they’d lived through it. She’d only given men what they wanted. It was business, pure and simple. It wasn’t as if they kidnapped the girls off the street! They’d all phoned her office of their own volition. Their choice only got limited once they’d made the deal.

  She shook her head hard, trying to erase the girls’ faces from her mind. But it didn’t work. It hadn’t worked since they’d hinted that they’d sold them, ten months before. A lot had fallen into place then. Why they’d wanted girls with no families, why the girls never came back to her looking for more work. She’d alwa
ys assumed that they’d decided to stop and that the ‘no families’ rule was some sexual quirk - ‘poor little orphan girl’. Just like the virginity clause. It had never occurred to her…

  Or had it? She’d racked her brains when they’d told her. Looking back at the times they’d called and asked her to find them a blonde, or brunette. A tall girl, an Asian girl, a size eight, size twelve, freckles, whatever…

  But no, she honestly hadn’t thought it strange. No stranger than the foibles of the men she’d known when she was on the game. Dress up as my teacher, my mother, the traffic warden. Make me clean your kitchen with a toothbrush. Beat me, whip me, but don’t wreck my hair. Men were just strange in her book, so the virginity and orphan requests didn’t seem any more abnormal than the ones she’d obliged many times over the years. It had honestly never occurred to her. Back then.

  When they’d told her about the selling she’d refused to do it anymore. But the beatings they inflicted on her each day for a week, convinced her that they’d kill her if she tried to stop. She fingered her stomach gingerly, the raised scars always there to remind her to obey.

  Bile rose in her throat as she touched the raised wealds. More followed at the thought of what Morgan had told her, joined by tears rushing wholesale to her eyes. A lot had fallen into place since her fight with him.

  The lucky ones had been sold but the others were dead, immortalised in snuff videos. Faces flashed in front of her eyes. Young, pretty faces, full of life. Full of their futures. Dead now, because they’d met her.

  She turned hastily towards the sink and retched, throwing up her breakfast in guilt. Then she sank to the floor and rested her back against a cool, steel machine, thinking hard.

  They would kill her now anyway. She had no doubt about that. They had contacts everywhere. The real question now was, was she safer inside prison or out?

  ***

  1pm

  Craig sprinted from the car-park to meet John in the morgue, where Britt Ackerman was waiting for her father to come and claim her. As he entered, John was flicking through some files. He turned sharply at the sound of Craig’s footsteps, his grim expression showing that he’d heard Davy’s findings.