Downes gnawed on his thumbnail as he mulled it over. ‘If we find out that Nathan Crosby’s responsible, you can’t put the brakes on. You have to see it through to the end. But if you can’t do that, you need to step away from this investigation now.’
Ruby was quick to respond. ‘I’ll find justice for Ellie. Think about it, I have an insight to the Crosby family, and yes, of course, I’d be investigating the possibilities of planted evidence. But I’ll see it from both sides, and maybe bring in some new suspects. I heard about the post-mortem. Nathan’s no surgeon.’
‘Maybe, but . . .’
‘I’ll be privy to some good intel, and you can always overturn my findings if you don’t agree.’ Ruby could see he was softening. Her heart lit like a beacon; she was winning him over. ‘I promise I won’t impact on this case in a negative way. You know I’m the right person to oversee this. Please.’ She stared at him, her dark eyes beseeching.
Downes nodded wearily, handing her the folder on his desk. ‘It’s the photographs of the evidence found under Crosby’s bed. It’s not pretty. They’re undergoing testing but we’re confident they belong to Ellie Mason.’
Slipping them from the folder, she flicked through the crime scene photos. The organs were contained in a zip-locked plastic bag within a macabre black-ribboned gift box. Zip-lock was good, it would explain why Nathan didn’t smell the freshly harvested organs when he proclaimed his innocence.
‘And anything else?’ Ruby said. ‘Any drugs?’
‘No,’ Downes said, ‘nothing was found.’
‘Of course it wasn’t. Nathan may be a lot of things but he’s not stupid. You know as well as I do that he wouldn’t keep coke in his house. That warrant was a bit convenient, don’t you think?’
Downes rubbed his chin, for once short of words.
‘C’mon, why keep a set of organs under his bed? It’s obvious what’s going on here, Jack. You must see that.’
‘Then why has he run away? If he’s so innocent, why didn’t he stand his ground? It’s not as if he can’t afford the best lawyers.’
‘Well, would you blame him? I’d do the same thing in his shoes. Evidence is evidence, and a lot of people won’t care who planted it there as long as he gets banged up.’
A door closed in the distance, and Ruby peeped through the blinds as lights were switched on. ‘It’s Ash,’ she said. ‘He’s in early. I’ll put the kettle on, make us a cuppa before they all roll in. Everything’s gonna be OK, I can feel it in my bones.’ But she was trying to convince herself more than anything, and Downes was not finished with her yet.
‘Ruby…’
‘Yes?’ she said, as nonchalantly as she could.
‘When you talk to him, and you will talk to him, you tell him to hand himself in. The longer he stays away, the worse it looks.’ Another rub of the chin. ‘Ask yourself: if what you’re saying is true, and he’s been set up, what the hell has he done to deserve this sort of revenge?’
‘I’ve already asked the Crosbys to provide a list of people who hold grudges—’ Her words jolted to a halt as she realised she had let the cat out of the bag. She cringed as he thumped a hand on her shoulder, but Downes was smiling, a bemused look on his face.
‘I knew you were lying. Very well, we’ll do it your way. But put a foot wrong and we’re both for the high jump. Don’t let me down.’
‘I won’t, I promise,’ Ruby said, grateful that at least she had said ‘The Crosbys’ instead of Nathan’s name.
‘Update your enquiries under “Operation Lancelot”. I’ll grant permission to carry out internal checks on Crosby and his acquaintances. It’ll do ya some good to find out what’s going on with that lot.’
Ruby nodded. She may have let her knowledge of the case slip but she was pleased with the clearance to carry on background checks. It would have been tricky otherwise. Hinting she was on the side of the Crosbys was enough bait for Jack to insist that she check them out. She knew all along that was what he had wanted – for her to see the Crosbys for what they really were. She was under no illusions as to what they did for a living, but his reaction suited her just fine. Now she had carte blanche to do as she wished with the investigation. She turned to leave, trying not to look too smug.
Downes’s voice echoed behind her. ‘Just don’t forget who you’re dealing with. And if you do bump into Nathan Crosby, I expect you to nick him and bring him in. But call for backup. In a situation like this they’re capable of anything.’
‘Yes, boss.’ Ruby rolled her eyes, glad the blinds were shut so he could not see her reflection. Nathan would never hurt her and, whatever she discovered about him or his family, she would never allow it to come between them. So why did she feel so nervous about digging into his past?
Her phone beeped with a Facebook message from her daughter, worrying about her dad. Ruby shoved it back in her pocket. She would speak to her later. Try to offer reassurance. Tell her that Nathan would soon be in the clear. Because he would, wouldn’t he? A rumble of thunder from outside halted her thoughts, filling her with a sudden sense of dread.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Wakey, wakey,’ Ruby said, gently shaking DC Ash Baker by the shoulder. ‘Can I have a word in my office, please?’
Ash slowly lifted his head from the paperwork, peeling back the list of taskings from his cheek. ‘What?’ he said, pausing to dry wash his face with his hands. ‘I. . . I must’ve fallen asleep.’
‘Here,’ Ruby said, minutes later, handing him a mug of tea as they took a seat in her office.
Sipping from their mugs, they listened to the relentless winds screeching through the cracks in her window. Rain hammered on the glass outside. Daylight had finally prevailed and a dull slate colour washed over the city sky, doing nothing for her morale.
‘You look knackered. You shouldn’t have come in so early,’ she said. But as Ash’s shoulders drooped, Ruby could tell that home was not a place where sleep came easily.
Tipping back his head, he ingested a mouthful of tea. ‘Mmm…’ He smacked his lips and smiled appreciatively. ‘There’s more than tea in this.’
Ruby leant forward conspiratorially. ‘Just a drop of whisky, nothing to set you over the limit. Want to talk about it?’
‘I’m sure you’ve got enough going on with this case and everything.’
But the haunted look in his eyes told her he was desperate to get it off his chest. With briefing due in ten minutes, soon neither of them would have a second to spare. Ruby’s priority sat with the members of her team, and she couldn’t help but worry that she was pushing them too hard.
‘Mate, there’ll always be cases,’ she said, closing the door. ‘It doesn’t mean I don’t have the time to listen to you.’
Ash took another gulp of tea. The deep frown lines embedded in his forehead told her this was a problem that had been worrying him for some time.
‘C’mon, don’t pull all that macho keep-everything-in stuff with me. God knows the job puts enough weight on our shoulders without added problems at home. I take it that’s what it is, home?’
‘It’s the missus,’ Ash said, still staring at the floor. ‘Her depression’s getting worse. Mum can’t cope with her anymore, and I’ve had to make some tough decisions.’
‘Really? I’m sorry to hear that. What are you going to do?’
‘We don’t have any choice, she’s gonna have to be sectioned.’ His hands were clasped around the mug as if it were a lifebuoy in a sea of despair. Rain battered the window from outside, adding to the bleakness of the situation. Ash sighed, his gaze finally meeting Ruby’s. ‘I just can’t face going home. What sort of a husband does that make me? What kind of a dad?’
His voice cracked, and Ruby could feel the stress emanating from his body. She hated to hear him wracked with guilt when he was doing everything he could. It was a place she had been to herself with her mother’s dementia, and it didn’t seem all that long ago.
‘Stop it, you silly sod. You’re the br
avest person I know, and not just in the job. How’s the kids?’
‘The girls have gone to live with my sister, but the missus can’t be left alone now she’s threatening suicide.’
Ruby nodded. She had to keep Ash buoyant if she wanted to help him get through it. ‘But they’re OK? I guess it’s easier now they’ve started uni.’
‘Oh yeah,’ he paused as he threw her a wry grin. ‘They love Canterbury. They seem to be a lot happier living with my sister than they ever were with me and Abigail.’
‘I guess it makes sense, with your sister living so near the university,’ Ruby said. ‘And it’s not as if they’re little kids anymore.’
‘Hmm… Thankfully, Fiona, my sister, loves to have them. If it wasn’t for her, I don’t know what I’d do.’
Ruby crossed her legs, deliberately ignoring the clock on the wall. The briefing would have to wait. ‘So is it arranged for tomorrow?’ Memories of putting her mother into care sprinkled her thoughts.
‘Yeah. I’m not looking forward to it because I know she’s going to kick off. She’s outraged when I mention treatment, becomes violent. It’s not her fault.’ He placed his empty mug on the desk and glanced out the window.
Ruby’s forehead creased. ‘You’ve never reported any violence.’
‘Why should she be criminalised because of an illness? Besides, if I were a better dad and husband, maybe none of this would have happened. Yet here I am, burying myself at work because I can’t bear to be at home.’
If Ruby were to follow procedure, she should document their conversation and ensure any allegations of violence were reported. But Ash’s wife was getting sectioned, and police involvement at this stage could only make things worse. Ruby had vowed to be a human being rather than a walking, talking police procedure handbook; it was why her team respected her as much as they did.
She took a deep breath. ‘When I put Mum into care I was sinking in guilt. We couldn’t cope living together anymore, and her senility had got so bad that she was a danger to herself. But it didn’t stop me from feeling responsible somehow. Sometimes she would shout and scream, and I didn’t know where to turn. But you know what? She’s used to her care home now. There’s nowhere else she’d rather be. I know it’s not the same thing but there’s a good chance Abigail will get better. It’s not too late for things to go back to what they were when you first met.’
‘But that’s the thing,’ Ash said, his expression pained as he voiced the words. ‘The love I felt for her died years ago. It’s such a mess.’
Ruby was lost for words. Who was she to give relationship advice? ‘Have you spoken to occupational health? Maybe take some time off, go to Canterbury, see the girls? It sounds like you need a holiday.’
‘To be honest, all I want to do is to work. When I’m investigating, I feel occupied, you know? Useful. I don’t have to think about what’s going on at home.’
It was a feeling Ruby knew all too well. Her personal life was a mess, work was all she had to cling to. It was the one place in the world where she felt valued. ‘What about taking the rest of the day off then? Get some sleep so you’re at full strength.’
‘No offence, Sarge, but I’d rather be here. I’ve taken a half-day off tomorrow. I’ve arranged for a uniformed officer to come round to help me get her into the ambulance – Aoife Daly, remember her, that nice PC that helped me with the house-to-house enquiries in my last case? It turns out her mum has schizophrenia. She’s very supportive.’
Ruby felt a pang of disappointment that Ash had not come to her first. ‘I would have been glad to support you, mate, had you asked.’
‘I’m always bending your ear. Besides, it’s all taken care of. If Abigail’s not sectioned soon, she’ll do herself in. She keeps going on about this spaceship. . . says it’s going to bring her to a better place, but the only way she can get there is by dying and coming back to life.’ He rubbed his face, which seemed to have aged by ten years. ‘Sometimes I get so tired, you know? I think my family would be better off without me. I don’t know the girls anymore, not really. They don’t know what to say to me. We’re like strangers.’
‘They’re teenagers,’ Ruby said. ‘Comes with the territory from what I’ve heard.’ She paused, her internal alarm bells still ringing from his earlier comments. ‘When you said they’re better off without you. . . You’re not thinking of doing anything stupid, are you?’
Ash threw on his well-worn smile, waving away her concerns as he rose. ‘Ah, don’t mind me, I’m just maudlin. You’re right, things will be a lot better when Abigail gets the help she needs.’ His eyes rose to the clock on the wall. ‘We’d better get moving before Worrow sends out a search party.’
Hitching up his trousers, he tucked in the shirt that was straining over his expansive belly. Eating junk food at random times had gained him enough weight to make him unrecognisable from his joining photo, taken almost thirty years before.
Gathering up her paperwork Ruby stifled a yawn, making a mental note to keep a close eye on Ash. It was a long day ahead, and she would have to draw upon her reserves of strength if she wanted to get through what lay ahead.
‘Sergeant Preston, nice of you to join us,’ DCI Worrow said, casting a cold eye over her shoulder as Ash Baker skulked behind her, squeezing in between Luddy and Eve. She stood at the head of the table, her black bob skimming her jawline. Her face was pinched and tight, making it clear that their tardiness was an unacceptable interruption.
Ruby narrowed her eyes. If her DCI wanted to show her up she could not have picked a worse time. But her superior seemed to sense Ruby’s annoyance and drew her gaze back to the team. The room was full with as many officers connected to the case as they could squeeze in.
‘As I was saying,’ Worrow said, spreading the newspapers out on the table, ‘our capital city is no stranger to murders, but this recent one appears to have caught the attention of the media. It features in all of these papers, albeit in a small section. It’s up to us to ensure this progresses no further, particularly now a member of the Crosby family is suspected of being involved.’
Ruby pursed her lips, as if trying to contain her words. Yes, a splash in the newspapers could provoke an adverse reaction, setting the police in a bad light. But it wasn’t the end of the world. Despite her and DCI Worrow having a mutual interest, they saw things in a completely different way: Worrow worried about headlines and its reflection on her as the DCI, Ruby thought only of Lisa and Ellie lying frozen in a mortuary drawer. Such young lives to be snuffed out so suddenly. The fact they were so publicly displayed hinted at arrogance, a willingness to want to play. It was her priority to ensure the bastard that so brutally killed them was swept off the streets, her streets, before he struck again. She folded her arms, feeling crestfallen as her superior planned Nathan’s arrest with the team.
Chapter Eighteen
The doctor shuffled on the rotting mattress, shifting his bones to get comfortable. Underneath the material of his long military coat, small warm bodies stirred. A set of whiskers brushed against his own, a long black tail slithering across his neck as the rodents sharing his space settled down. The storm had brought them inside seeking warmth and shelter. He had not turned them away. Their bellies full from the food that he had brought them, they had kept him company as he plotted his next move. Surrounded by newspapers he had scanned each word under torchlight, absorbing the titles that referred to his victim as a young prostitute who had been transformed before her death. It had filled him with warm glee to see his art spoken of in the nationals. Not that they saw it as art, not yet. But they would, he would make sure of that. He must have fallen asleep around three when his flashlight dimmed, and his eyelids turned leaden. Waking up with his faithful creatures wrapped around him, he no longer felt alone.
It was not as if he didn’t have a home to go to – however his flat in Shoreditch no longer felt safe. The people who disfigured him had left him with nightmares, and it had taken some time to feel back in con
trol. His art was a testament to his recovery, and his victims gave him strength. Not that he saw them as victims, empathy was not an emotion he was familiar with.
Even throughout his childhood, he had known he was different to the others. As his friends buried their pets in makeshift graveyards, he threw his bug-eyed goldfish down the toilet. He remembered wondering, as he urinated on him, how long it would be before he could persuade his mother to buy him another one. Pets, like people, were disposable objects. There were too many of them in the world, and the loss of a few would make it a better place.
Just because he didn’t care about his fellow human beings did not mean they were not a subject of great fascination – and in what other occupation would he be able to place his hands on real-life subjects? He smiled at the thought. People were so trusting back then. Over the years things had changed. The respect faded, and he was forced to move his profession into the shadows of the darkness. Illegal abortions were highly paid, and it was something he developed a great fascination for. Word got around that he could be trusted. Soon he was employed by darker characters to treat gunshot wounds and life-threatening injuries. He had even dabbled in facial reconstruction. He had treated them all and been well paid for it.
Now he was an outcast. Money was no longer a necessity, and he was at least free to treat his betrayers with the contempt he felt.
He had already lined up his next work of art, and he could not wait to get his hands on her. He stroked the fur of the rat nestling underneath his coat. Like humans, they could turn on him without a moment’s notice. That was what he liked about the creatures that visited him in the night: they never pretended to be any more than they were, and he trusted them more than they deserved. Like the rats, he had learned to walk in the shadows and immerse himself in a community that rejected him long ago. With his long grey hair and oversized coat, he prowled the night with his head low, his offensive features hidden away from view.
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