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

by Catriona King

  “She was healthy and well cared for. Better than well cared for, loved, and probably indulged. Her jewellery and clothes were far more expensive than a student could have afforded. And she had highlighted hair and artificial nails, both expensive. There were no signs of drugs or substance abuse. All her blood tests showed a fit young woman. She wasn’t drunk or under the influence of anything when she died.”

  Craig stilled him with a hand. “Hold on John, are you saying that she was fully conscious through all of this? They didn’t give her anything to sedate her at all?”

  John shook his head. “Nothing.”

  The word hung in the air for a moment as they scanned her injuries, knowing that she’d been fully aware the whole time. Nicky excused herself, ostensibly to make more coffee.

  It was a step too far, even for Liam who’d seen a lot over the years. “Fucking bastards. I like to do it to them.” He turned to Craig. “Give me ten minutes alone with them when we make the arrests.”

  Craig said nothing but his eyes agreed. John spoke again, accelerating, as if he could gloss over the horror if he said it fast enough.

  “We know she was raped by more than one man. But they must have worn condoms because they left no D.N.A. behind, except the false trail of Tommy Hill and Rory McCrae’s blood. Leaving none of their own only tells us they watch C.S.I., but leaving the false D.N.A. was overkill. It tells us that they knew about the Stephen Barron case and had access to the file. And that they also had access to the blood samples. That could have been done by Morgan; he could have tampered with the samples at St Marys.”

  Craig nodded, bringing them up to date with Liam’s find. Then John continued.

  “The only people who would have known which case to access and could have given Hill’s and McCrae’s names to Morgan to obtain their D.N.A., was someone in either the police or judiciary. Someone who was aware that the Barron case existed, and had the clearance to get through the firewalls into the file.”

  He turned towards Craig questioningly. “Am I right in saying those files are password protected, Marc?”

  Craig nodded, shooting him a warning look not to ask the name of the man who’d accessed the file. They all saw it but no-one asked why, and John moved on. “The problem of course was that whoever did it didn’t realise that Rory McCrae was still in Maghaberry. So he couldn’t possibly have killed Ms Ackerman.”

  Reggie raised a finger to interrupt and John nodded, glad of the break. Reggie’s slow voice was so quiet that they had to lean forward to catch his words. Their shift in posture gave Nicky cover to slip back into the circle virtually unnoticed. Craig smiled at her in concern and she smiled back, signing that she was O.K. She usually coped well with their gorier cases, unlike Annette, but the girl’s un-sedated pain had been a step too far.

  Reggie updated them on Tommy Hill’s activities since their interview. “Aye well. As we expected he took a day-trip to Maghaberry, to pay McCrae a visit. There was no way to stop him. Tommy miraculously has no record since he got out in ’98.”

  “More by good luck than good judgement. Any dirt from the visit, Reggie?”

  Reggie turned towards Liam, the only man in the room tall enough to look him in the eye when they stood. They knew each other well, crossing paths many times over the years, although Reggie was older and his kids were long grown. Liam would be working till he was seventy if he kept having babies.

  “Just the usual rubbish. Moaning about the ‘Pigs’ and what have you. Of course Tommy says they’re going to get whoever framed them when McCrae gets out. Mind you, the Governor said Tommy was pretty fed-up about us accusing him of a young woman’s murder. When his own daughter only died in April.”

  “Ah… did we hurt diddums’ feelings then?”

  “Aye. Diddums was wild upset.”

  The whole group laughed at the baby talk coming from men with a combined height of thirteen feet. Craig joined in for a minute and then interrupted, apologising for breaking the mood. “Sorry everyone, but I have a meeting at five, so much as I’m enjoying the Morecambe and Wise show we need to push on. Reggie, had you finished?”

  “Aye. Except to say that we’ll keep a close eye on Tommy, in case anyone unusual tries to contact him. The Governor’s monitoring McCrae’s visitors just in case.”

  “Good, thanks for that.” Craig thought for a moment, realising something. “Not knowing that McCrae was inside would point away from it being someone closely involved with the Barron case. So it’s unlikely to be the Judge on the case, or either of the barristers. And Hill and McCrae’s solicitor would definitely have known McCrae had been sent down until 2014. So if it’s someone in the judiciary it’s someone further away from the case.”

  Sylvia Bryce’s young lawyer client sprang to mind. What if he’d reappeared as she’d predicted? He would be old enough to be senior now. Something else occurred to him and he turned to Liam.

  “And if it’s someone in the police, then again it can’t be someone directly involved with the case. And all of us, up to and including D.C.S. Harrison, would have known that Rory McCrae went down for eighteen months.”

  Liam’s eyes met his and he nodded imperceptibly. Relief flooded across Craig’s face and he turned to Davy and Karen quickly. “Davy, pass whatever you can to Karen. I’ve something special for you to work on.”

  Karen frowned - she didn’t like too much work.

  Craig turned to Nicky, checking his watch. It was nearly four-thirty. “Nicky, can you cancel my five o’clock meeting please? Say that I’ve an urgent lead to follow. Remake it for tomorrow, late afternoon if possible. I need twenty-four hours to check something out.”

  She went to make the call, leaving everyone but Liam looking at Craig curiously. He shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t tell you what it’s about yet, but it’s important to the case. Bear with me until tomorrow’s briefing.”

  He turned back to John, signalling him to move on.

  “Britt Ackerman was, as her clothes and colouring indicated, northern European. We now know she was Swedish. Her father is the Swedish Ambassador to Northern Ireland. She was studying law - in her second year. She was a very bright girl by all accounts, specialising in equality and Human Rights. Her closest friends were Hannah Benner and Fiona Torney and, as we know, Hannah herself nearly became a victim too. There’s nothing about Miss Ackerman’s profile that links to prostitution and she certainly wasn’t short of money. So we need to look at her family dynamics for a clue as to why she did something so dangerous, and so likely to destroy her chances of being a lawyer. It was guaranteed to disgrace her father as well.”

  John answered his own queries. “We know that Hannah Benner lost her father when she was young and greatly resented her step-father, so did Britt Ackerman have problems with her father as well? If so, it may tell us why such a privileged young woman diced with danger in this way.”

  He turned to Karen. “It might be worth trying to source the kosher knife as well. There may be more information there.”

  Craig glanced at Karen warily, knowing that he was about to add further to her burden. One look at her grudging face made him appreciate Davy’s amiable willingness even more.

  “Karen, the pictures that Davy was working on from the office raid are top priority too. We need to see how many of the girls in those photographs are missing, and how many are confirmed dead. We’re looking at deaths going back years here.”

  Karen sighed theatrically and bit hard into her second cake, wrapping her chubby fingers around it protectively. Liam squinted at her, biting back a sarcastic comment. Her moaning drove him mad. Craig made a note to keep her supplied with chocolate, as Annette had suggested. It might be the difference between her being tolerable and Liam killing her.

  “Anything more, John?”

  “Nope, not until we get the full forensics from the house and office.”

  “Thanks for all of that. Right. Liam, where are we with Morgan?”

  “Traffic picked him up on
the M2 half an hour ago heading towards Ballymena. He turned off at the A26 and they followed him, staying far enough behind not to be spotted. Last I heard they were heading towards Portglenone Forest on the A42.”

  “Give them a quick call and check where he is please. Everyone else, let’s call it a day and meet back here at four tomorrow please. John, I’ll call you later.”

  They dispersed quickly and Craig turned towards his young analyst, beckoning him into his office. He closed the door behind them and Davy stared at him curiously. Craig’s tone said this was something very important.

  “Davy, it’s essential that you don’t discuss this with anyone but Liam or me. Do you understand?”

  “Not even Nicky?”

  Craig thought for a moment and then shook his head. Not because he didn’t trust her but because these were dangerous men and he wouldn’t put her harm’s way. “Just Liam and me please.”

  Davy nodded and Craig repeated the intranet information that Liam had called him with earlier. Davy let out a low whistle. This was dynamite. “I understand now w…what you meant when you talked about someone in the force accessing the files. Liam’s certain that it was accessed by D.C.S. Harrison?”

  “Positive that the file was accessed on Harrison’s computer, using his password. Just as positive as I am that this is another red herring, just like McCrae’s D.N.A. But this could end up with an innocent man being accused and his career ruined, Davy. Mud sticks, so I need to you find out what’s behind this before I meet with the Chief Constable.

  I think someone discovered Harrison’s password and accessed his computer with it. Probably more to cover their tracks than implicate him, although it will have that effect. With the office move going on upstairs they could easily have slipped into his office in the confusion.”

  “You’re certain he’s innocent then?”

  Craig nodded. Terry Harrison was many things; smarmy, a political operator and a snob. He’d made his life hell on many occasions and used him ruthlessly on others. He was also an inveterate womaniser, especially with young women, pursuing them relentlessly. But if they finally said no he always took it for an answer. Craig could believe him guilty of being lecherous and social climbing, but not of this. But someone who knew his proclivities had obviously thought that he’d make the perfect fall guy.

  “Absolutely certain. And he’s not an idiot. Only someone who didn’t know the detail of the case or couldn’t be bothered finding it out, would have made that mistake with McCrae’s D.N.A.”

  He stared seriously at the young man in front of him, whose genius with computers rivalled John’s in pathology.

  “Can you find me something, anything, Davy, that will trace this back to someone else? I need you to help me prove Harrison’s innocence, before five o’clock tomorrow. If I tell the Chief Constable it will trigger a major investigation and ruin Harrison’s reputation. Worst of all, it will alert the real killer that we’re on to them.”

  Davy nodded, genuinely excited. He’d always wanted to be a spy and now he had his chance.

  Chapter Eighteen

  7pm

  The cold air held Bjorn Ackerman’s breath in a cloud, moving ahead of him as he entered the freezing mortuary with Liam. It grew and shrank as if it had a life of its own, except that there was no life in this place, or anywhere else for him now.

  John led the way, solemn and sad faced, as sad as if this was his first time. Except that the rows of names in the sign-in book said it wasn’t. He reached the door and turned silently towards the father, with a look that said ‘are you sure?’

  They all knew that he had to be. Who else could say ‘this is my daughter’ with such certainty and love? Only her father. He had to do it for Britt.

  Liam watched as the lean man beside him guarded himself against what he was going to see. His heart burned with pain for him, imagining himself performing such a task when Erin grew up. He shuddered inwardly. It didn’t bear thinking about. He sent up a prayer that she stayed two-years-old forever, and he never had to school her against bad men.

  But time didn’t freeze like breath, and after a nod from Bjorn Ackerman John opened the door to the small viewing room. In its centre sat a long table, draped with pure white cloth. Beneath it lay a daughter.

  The word conjured up pictures of smiles and tears and childhood cuddles. Pretty dresses and bows in her hair, and dolls clutched tightly in her arms during sleep. It held the sounds of giggles and whispers, and then fights, about curfews and dresses that were too short. It meant disapproving looks at unsuitable boyfriends and ‘concentrate on your studies until you graduate’. Bribed with shoes and cars, and a little dog called Mitzy.

  But daughters don’t stay two-years-old and, one day, other men claim Daddy’s little angel, and Daddy’s little angel says yes. Time doesn’t stop, no matter how much we will it to.

  Bjorn Ackerman gazed down at the sheet that covered his daughter, and the look of pain that seared across his face tore through the other men’s hearts. Even after years of cruel sights they weren’t immune. As the man beside them prepared to look at his child for the last time, they shielded their hearts against the pain they knew was coming.

  On Ackerman’s nod John withdrew the sheet and their small clouds of breath stilled in the cool air. Not ebbing or flowing with life any more, but suspended now as no one breathed.

  The father lowered his gaze slowly and his eyes ran across his daughter’s pretty face. Across her full cheeks and pert nose, and then slowly to her eyes and hair. His gaze moved back to rest on her soft long lashes, staring hard at them. Willing her to open her eyes and smile.

  He reached forward and Liam noticed his hands. Tanned and thin with long slim fingers. They stroked her blonde hair gently, smoothing it away from her face as if she could feel his touch. Tears ran unfettered from his eyes and he dashed them away with his palm. Then he stroked her hair again, as if to say ‘there there, Britt. There there.’

  Liam recognised the action as his own with Erin and his tears fell in sympathy. He turned away quickly, and John motioned him to leave the room, and allow the father time with his child.

  They waited outside, neither of them speaking, until finally Bjorn Ackerman joined them, walking straight-backed from the mortuary. He turned to look at Liam, his grey eyes wet and the words he said echoed Liam’s own thoughts.

  “You must find these men before me, or I will kill them.” Then he walked out alone into the warm evening air.

  ***

  “I’m sorry pet; this has been a hopeless holiday for you.”

  Craig was sitting at the dining-room table with a glass of chilled Semillon in his hand, grasping the bulb in a way that was guaranteed not to improve the taste. Julia turned around from the sink and smiled at him, more concerned by the tiredness in his face than by her wasted annual leave.

  She walked over and stood behind him, running her hands through his thick dark hair. He laid his head back against her gratefully and closed his eyes, dangerously close to sleep. Encouraged by the soft Sinatra playing in the background. He had a fleeting thought that if this was what marriage was like he could cope with it. Then he checked himself and sat forward slowly, disengaging her seductive fingers. He wasn’t ready for that just yet.

  She caught his shift and smiled knowingly, then turned to serve dinner. She chatted brightly about her shopping trip with Natalie and her outing to the coast with her mother the next day. Anything but the case, or commitment. Craig smiled as her words washed over him in her high light voice, planning his own paradise of a Man United replay and a cold beer in an hour’s time.

  ***

  Thursday 13th June. 9.45am.

  Craig stared through the glass wall of windows that gave his tenth floor office one of the best views in the C.C.U. The bright summer light glinted off the waves below as they rose and fell hypnotically with every breeze.

  The Cairnryan ferry was docking, yawning open its stern to release hundreds of eager tourists onto
dry land, ready to explore Belfast. And beyond, to the country, where trees and lakes and the City of Culture 2013 lay waiting for their cameras.

  A hard knock at the door broke his reverie and he threw ‘enter’ over his shoulder, reluctant to pull his eyes from the sunny view, back to dark reality. He said. “Good morning Liam,” before looking around - the loud knock couldn’t belong to anyone else. He moved to make coffee for them both, knowing that the evening before would have taken its toll on Liam in at least two ways.

  Liam sat heavily in the chair, instead of taking his normal stance by the wall. It was as close as he’d ever come to admitting he was tired. Craig broke the silence first, Liam’s grim face saying that he wouldn’t.

  “Have you heard from Annette yet?”

  He watched Liam’s face closely as he nodded acknowledgement, prepared for his annoyance. He was surprised by the wry smile that curved his lips, and even more surprised by his next words.

  “About bloody time. The girl should’ve got it years ago.” He shook his head. “I suppose she didn’t have the confidence to try before.” Then he smiled broadly at Craig. “I’m looking forward to her coming back. What with you making Super, and us two Inspectors. We’ll make a good team.”

  Craig was genuinely pleased by his reaction, and decided to say what he’d been thinking of all month. “I’ll need a new D.C.I. Liam, and I want you to go for it.”

  Liam gawped at him, then a kaleidoscope of emotions crossed his pale face. Gratitude and fear mixed with disbelief. Then came the denial. “Naw, I couldn’t boss. They’d never give it to me, what with my record of putting my foot in it. I’ve broken every political correctness rule in the book in my time.”

  Craig shook his head. “You’re excellent operationally. All we have to do is get you through the board. Once you’re in rank you’ll just have to bite your tongue a bit more outside the squad.” He laughed. “But for God’s sake don’t change too much, it would be boring.”