by M A Comley
“I don’t know. Maybe, we should ask Mary?”
“How the hell should I know?” the overweight controller snapped back.
Lorne’s eyes narrowed, “Surely, as radio controller, you should be aware of his every move, shouldn’t you?”
“What’s going on, Inspector?” Toni said.
“Why don’t we ask Mary—or, should I say, Katherine Scott—about that?”
“Bloody hell!” Pete’s voice bounced off the walls.
Lorne turned and, for a minute, wanted to laugh at Pete’s gobsmacked face.
Toni shook her head, confused. “Mary, are you related to John?”
“What about it?” the woman shouted, her upper lip raised, baring her uneven teeth.
“You told me your name was Matthews. Why would you do that?”
“I think I can answer that one for you, Toni,” Lorne told the bemused woman but kept her gaze fixed on the controller. “It was much easier for her brother to abduct the women on his hit list,” she said, then looked at Toni, “if they deceived you.” She addressed Mary again. “You doctored the dockets, made sure another driver’s name was on the docket instead of your brother’s. Am I right?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Mary snarled.
“Where are the dockets from yesterday, Toni, and I’ll show Mary exactly what I mean?”
“I’ll get them for you. I put them away this morning.”
While Toni located the dockets, Lorne glanced back at Pete, whose eyes and facial gestures told her he was itching to come through and question Mary, as well. She threw him a Don’t you dare stare.
Toni removed the final shoebox from the top shelf of the unit behind her and handed it to Lorne. “Here you are. What specifically are you after, Inspector?”
“There should be a pick-up from Ashleigh High School at around four, maybe four fifteen, in the name of Sedark. Can you tell me who the driver was?”
“Let’s see. Ah, here it is. The call came in at four ten, and the driver who picked her up was Wacko.” Toni studied the docket and frowned.
Lorne tilted her head. “Something wrong, Toni?”
“You could say that, Inspector. Wacko wasn’t on duty until nine o’clock last night.”
“Perhaps you can tell me who was on control when the call came in?”
“It was you, Mary, wasn’t it? What the hell is going on? Why would you put Wacko’s name on a docket, when he wasn’t even on duty?”
“I can answer that one for you, too, Toni. It was intentional. John Scott picked up Jane Sedark and two kids. Thankfully, the kids managed to escape, but Miss Sedark wasn’t so lucky. We discovered her a couple of hours later in the cellar of his flat. Naked and tied to a chair. She suffered multiple fractures but is relieved to be alive. Unlike John Scott’s previous victims. That’s right, isn’t it, Mary, er…I mean, Katherine?”
The controller glared at Lorne but remained silent.
“I’m so sorry, Inspector. I had no idea. Get your things together, Mary. You’re finished here, and that goes for your skanky brother too.”
“Yes, Mary, gather your things, you’re coming down the station with us. Pete? Will you do the honours of escorting this person from the premises?”
“Will do, boss…”
“Just one more thing, Toni. Is the car Scott drives a company car or his own?”
“They all have their own vehicles, Inspector. I’d soon go out of business if I had to supply the cars.”
“Thanks for your help, Toni. I hope you find a new controller and driver soon.”
The colour continued to drain from Toni’s face, and she asked, “Do you have any idea where Scott is?”
“Let’s just say we’re closing in on him.”
A loathsome smirk appeared on Mary’s face and remained there throughout the journey back to the station.
They put the woman in interview room one. Pete and Lorne nipped next door and observed her through the two-way mirror. The whole time she glared at the uniformed officer guarding the door.
“You were right. You said there was something fishy about her. She’s one hell of an evil bitch.”
“Let’s hold fire on the congratulations. Wait till we’ve got her brother in custody, shall we? I’m chancing my arm here, Pete, but you know your mate, ‘Stinger’, on the local paper? Do you think he could run a story for us? Maybe he could let it slip that Mary was being held for questioning. If J.S. knows we’re holding her, it might bring him out in the open, or at least force him to contact me.”
Pete glanced at his watch. “If I’m quick, the story could make the late edition. I’ll see what I can do. What about her?” He jerked his head in the direction of the interview room.
“I’m going to let her stew in there for a few hours. It might make her crack quicker.”
Lorne replaced the receiver as Pete marched into the office twenty minutes later.
“Phew, that was a close one. Half an hour to spare. Stinger lapped up the story. They want to see this bastard caught as much as we do. Who were you on the phone to?”
“Gordon Sedark. Checking to see how Jane is. She’s out of hospital, still shaken up, but she’s coping remarkably well, considering what has happened to her. He wanted me to pass on his thanks to the team.”
“Did you tell him about Scott’s sister?”
“Not yet. So, now we sit and wait. Scott will be in touch soon, I have no doubt about that. Fancy grabbing a quick bite before we try and break down mardy Mary?”
“Did you tell the chief we’ve brought her in?”
“I have. He’s still in a mood. Insists you should question her while I observe.”
Pete pulled a face at the suggestion.
“Don’t worry, I’ll prompt you through the earpiece if needed, but I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Oh great. It’ll be like Big Sister watching over me while I’m questioning The Big Sister,” Pete grumbled on the way to the canteen.
Half an hour later, after draining the last of their coffees, Lorne asked, “Are you ready for this? We’ll take her a sandwich. I’m feeling generous.”
“You’d need a truckload of sarnies to satisfy her appetite, boss, by the looks of it.”
An old saying popped into Lorne’s mind, something about a pot and a kettle. She chuckled.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Pete flicked the switch on the recorder as soon as he entered the interview room. He cautioned her, using her real name of Katherine Scott, then fired questions as if there was no tomorrow.
“Hey, slow down, Pete. Give her a chance to answer.” Lorne’s voice came through his earpiece. “Ask her where she stayed last night?”
Pete did, and the woman refused to answer. He had placed the sandwich in the middle of the table, and her eyes focused on that rather than him.
Hours dragged by, and the response remained the same. Silence with a capital S. Needing a break, a frustrated Pete left the room every hour. After a quick chat with Lorne, he returned to try again.
At four forty, Tracy brought Lorne the early edition of the evening newspaper. On the front page and in thick bold type was the headline:
SUSPECTED SERIAL KILLER’S SISTER HELPING POLICE WITH THEIR ENQUIRIES
“If this doesn’t bring the bastard in…” Lorne said, satisfied by the piece Pete’s mate had written. Tracy played with her watch as if the strap had pinched the hairs on her arm, and Lorne noticed what the time was. “Shit, is that the time? I’m supposed to be meeting my daughter from school. I’ll have to ring my sister—see if she’ll do it for me. Pete, I’ll be right back,” she said, before running out the room.
Her mobile was upstairs in her bag so she rang her sister from the nearest phone. “Jade, thank God. I’m supposed to be picking Charlie up after netball practice, but I’m stuck here—”
“You’re kidding me? Again, you’re putting work before your family.” Her sister sighed loudly. “What time?”
“Thanks, Jade
. You’re a treasure. Now, if you can?”
“You owe me big time, Lorne,” Jade shouted down the phone then hung up.
Lorne returned to the observation room. Pete looked as though he’d had enough of Ms Scott’s ‘no comments’ and dodging the daggers shooting from her eyes.
About twenty minutes later, Tracy rushed into the room. She coughed to clear her throat.
“What’s up, Tracy?”
“Ma’am, the phone was ringing in your office…and, I answered it.”
Lorne could tell she was struggling to give her some bad news.
“Spit it out, Tracy, you’re beginning to worry me.”
“Sorry, ma’am. The call was from your daughter.”
Lorne frowned. “And? She can’t be home already?”
“Oh God, ma’am…She was still at school. She was hysterical.”
“Tracy, for fuck’s sake, tell me what’s happened?”
“Your sister has been…abducted, ma’am.”
Lorne’s knees buckled, and she fell against the two-way mirror. “Pete, get out here. Now!”
“What’s going on?” Pete asked, barging through the door. He looked at Lorne and then at Tracy.
Tracy continued, “Charlie saw her being bundled into the back of a taxi. A black Peugeot.”
Pete shook his head. “Who was?”
“My sister, Pete. Scott has my sister.”
“Oh, Jesus fucking wept. Tracy, get the chief. Now.”
Tracy ran from the room, and Pete stepped forwards to comfort Lorne. The words echoed round her head. My God, John Scott’s got my sister. Don’t lose it now, girl.
The chief joined them as Lorne was issuing Pete with instructions. “Ring the school, tell them to keep Charlie, then ring Tom and order him to get to the school and pick his daughter up. Interview or not, got it?”
Pete nodded and left the room.
Roberts’ features showed how worried he was. He handed Lorne a glass of water. “Tracy filled me in. Lorne, I’m so sorry. Come on. Let’s get back to your office.”
Lorne glanced down at his hand tucked under her elbow then, when she saw such sadness and concern in his eyes, she remembered he’d once thought the world of Jade, too. “What about her?” she asked, nodding towards the woman on the other side of the mirror.
“I’ll get the desk sergeant to lock her up.”
They had not long arrived at the incident room when the phone rang. Everyone stared at it before Mitch finally picked it up. “Just a minute. I’ll put you through.”
He held out the phone to her and mouthed. It’s him!
“Let me take it, Lorne,” Roberts insisted.
But Lorne hit his outstretched arm away. “No,” she snapped. Her pulse quickened as she prepared herself for a confrontation.
“Lorne, listen to me. It’s imperative that you remain calm, don’t let him goad you.”
“Christ, I know how to handle this, sir,” Lorne said through gritted teeth. “Hello, this is DI Simpkins,” she said, fighting to keep her voice normal.
“Lorne…It’s me.”
“Jade, sweetheart, are you all right? Where are you?” Lorne asked, tears burning her eyes.
“Ah, Inspector. Questions, questions, always questions. Did you forget to pick your daughter up? It’s a good job your sister thinks more of her than you do.” His hollow laugh filtered down the line.
“You bastard.”
“Now, now, Inspector. If you want to see your sister again, you really should be nice to me.” His voice was low and threatening.
“Just tell me what you want, Scott?”
“Keep him talking, we’ll try and trace the call,” Roberts mouthed to her.
“I’ll consider doing a swap with you, my sister for yours. How about that?”
“I’m sure that could be arranged. I’ll have to talk to my superior, see if he’ll agree to it.”
“Why don’t you ask DCI Roberts now, that is him standing beside you, isn’t it?” J.S. laughed in her ear.
Lorne twisted and peered out the window at the offices opposite. Is he there, watching me?
“He’ll agree to it. Just tell me when and where?”
“I’ll call back. My time’s almost up, I’m sure you’ve got people beavering away tracing this call.”
“Please, let me talk to Jade.” But he’d hung up, leaving her listening to the dial tone. Her knuckles tensed and whitened as she gripped the phone. Roberts had to prise it from her hand.
Pete walked into the silence of the incident room. “What’s going on?”
Lorne’s explanation dried in her throat.
Confused, Pete asked, “Boss? No worries, Tom’s gonna pick up Charlie.”
“Scott just made contact,” Roberts said.
“Shit. That’s it. The bitch better start singing now or…” Pete spat out in anger.
“That’s enough, Pete. I don’t want her knowing about Jade. We’ll keep her banged up overnight, see how she likes that.” She glanced at Roberts, and he nodded his approval. If she was going to meet with Scott, there was no way his sister would be handed over.
“I’m going over to Scott’s place to see how SOCO are getting on.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it?” asked Roberts.
Lorne stared at him and shook her head. “I’ll just make a quick call and get over there.” She walked into her office and closed the door behind her. “Jacques, it’s me.”
“Bonjour, Lorne. What can I do for you?”
“I needed to hear a friendly voice,” she told him, her own wavering slightly.
“Is everything okay, Lorne?”
“No. John Scott has found another victim…”
“What! Oh no. I read in the paper that you have his sister in custody. Do you think that forced his hand?”
“Oh, there’s no doubt about that. I just hope he doesn’t harm Jade. She sounded okay when I spoke to her earlier…”
“Lorne, I don’t understand. You’re babbling…Oh my God, did you say Jade? Lorne—has he abducted your sister?”
“Oh, Jacques, it’s all my fault. Tom asked me to do one simple thing, and I couldn’t even manage that. Work got in the way as usual. Now she’s gone. Gone forever, for all I know.” Tears slipped down her cheek, and filled with anger and dread, she wiped them away.
“Lorne, you mustn’t blame yourself. I’m sure she’ll be fine. Think positive. What can I do to help?”
“There’s nothing anyone can do. He’s hinted that he’d be willing to swap his sister for mine, but I can’t see the boss going along with that scenario. I’m just on my way to Scott’s flat now. See what SOCO’s turned up. That’s if they haven’t taken it all away already for examination.”
“I’ve got a couple of posts still to do. When I’ve finished, I’ll track you down. Till then, chin up and stay strong.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Around dusk that evening, Lorne, Pete, and the chief turned up at J.S.’s flat. The rain had stopped, but now, cold air swirled leaves close to the ground, forming mini tornadoes as the team gathered outside the property.
Before entering the flat, Lorne asked, “Has everyone got a pair of latex gloves?”
The SOCO team were just winding things up.
“Bloody hell, Pete, what a tip this place is,” Lorne said, eyes scanning the clutter, then she approached the head of the team. “Hi, Jack. What’ve you got?”
The tall middle-aged man, still in his white suit, sidestepped the boxes of paraphernalia as he made his way through to the lounge. He pointed at the evidence they’d gathered. “Items of interest are a scrapbook and a shoebox we found in a wardrobe, containing some old pictures and a set of keys.”
Lorne checked inside the shoebox. She viewed the photos one by one and passed them to the chief and Pete to examine. The pictures were pretty dark memorabilia from a troubled and traumatised past. In one photo, a raging fire engulfed a house. What kind of warped mind films something like
that? Is this his family home? Did he watch it burn to the ground? Also in the box, she found a few Polaroid pictures of two gravestones. The inscriptions read Grace Scott and Geoffrey Scott. ‘Good riddance’ was written in capitals across the Polaroids in felt-tip pen.
The final item in the box, a black cloth wrapped around two playing cards—the king and queen of spades—and a Tarot death card.
“He’s one dark, mixed-up cookie,” Pete said. He gulped noisily when it dawned on him what he’d just said. “Sorry, boss, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“That’s okay, Pete. It’s nothing we didn’t know already.” Lorne sat on the sofa and flicked through the scrapbook.
Pete sat alongside her and whistled. “Jesus, the guy’s been watching you for ages.” He glanced up at her and then back at the scrapbook.
As she stared at hundreds of photos of herself, she remained speechless. Pictures of her with Tom and Charlie. Even a recent snap of her holding hands with Jacques in the park was included in the collection, along with lots of dull everyday photos of Lorne with Pete coming and going to work. But the most upsetting photo, in her eyes, had to be the ones he’d taken of Charlie in the school playground. John Scott had been stalking, not just watching her for days.
“Why? Why me?” she uttered the same words Jane Sedark asked when they’d found her earlier.
“Because you’re the leading investigator on the case, one would presume,” Roberts suggested, looking over her shoulder.
“Hey, take a gander at this,” Pete said, turning to the penultimate page of the book. Neatly arranged were pictures of a smiling, young J.S. standing next to an elderly couple. On the final page were grainy pictures of a little girl, aged seven to eight—Lorne presumed it was his sister—with the same couple. “What do ya think? Could be the grandparents.”
“Surely, if their grandparents had been alive, the kids wouldn’t have been put into care. Maybe they died before the abuse scandal broke. Pete, ring Molly, see what she can dig up?”
Pete stepped out into the hallway, and Roberts took his seat beside Lorne. They browsed through the scrapbook again. “Maybe this place was some kind of holiday home. It looks in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees.” Roberts picked up the scrapbook to examine the picture more closely. “It’s some kind of cabin, nestled in a wooded area.”