The Death Messenger

by Mari Hannah

  ‘If it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay.’ Murder Incident Rooms didn’t close down for Christmas and well she knew it. If she intended to work through the holidays, then so did he.

  ‘I could order you to leave.’

  ‘That would be harsh.’

  ‘I was joking.’ Her smile faded. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He lied.

  ‘Something is.’

  He looked away, his turn to avoid an issue that was bothering him. He’d been dreading Christmas for weeks, long before he learned that it had unfortunate associations for her too. The closer it got, the worse he had felt. When a certain invitation arrived, it knocked him sideways.

  ‘Ryan? Talk to me?’

  ‘It’s Hilary.’

  ‘Fenwick?’ The question was rhetorical. She knew he didn’t mean Forsythe. They had talked about Hilary Fenwick only yesterday. Still blaming himself for Jack’s death, Ryan looked out for Hilary and her children, the youngest of whom was his god-daughter. He was struggling with the prospect of seeing the family over Christmas.

  ‘I can’t face seeing her tonight.’

  ‘You have to, Ryan. Little Lucy will be heartbroken if you don’t go. Robbie and Jess too.’

  ‘I will call in. Just not for long. I’ll drop Caroline off and stick around for a bit. She’s staying over and will spend the day with them tomorrow, so there’s no need for me to knock off early. Her Christmas is sorted and I have no other plans. They won’t miss me.’

  ‘That’s bollocks, Ryan, and you know it. Hilary adores you.’

  He met her penetrating gaze. ‘You don’t want me around. I don’t want them around. Cowardly of me, I know, but I can’t and won’t try to fill the gaping hole Jack left behind. It’s not possible, even if I wanted to. Eloise, I’m not Santa Claus. I can’t magic up happiness or bring him back any more than you can.’ She bristled at the reference to the man she’d been engaged to.

  Ryan was past caring.

  ‘You have to let it go, Ryan.’

  ‘We both do.’ He never took his eyes off her.

  The chemistry he was certain they had lost had come flooding back over the past few days. Little by little, he’d felt it return. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but they were heading in the right direction. There was no way he was leaving her to mope, this afternoon or this evening. There wasn’t a hope in hell of that happening.

  ‘Maybe you could spare the time to come and hold my hand?’ He put on his best begging face. ‘Figuratively speaking, I mean. We could grab a bite to eat later. Nothing special. I’ll stand you a bag of your favourite nuts and a Babycham.’

  The magic disappeared from her eyes.

  The knock-back stung before she had chance to voice it.

  ‘I’d love to, but—’

  ‘You have plans. That’s cool. Some other time?’

  She didn’t answer.

  ‘Is it Forsythe?’ He raised a hand, fending off a response. ‘Sorry, none of my business, I’ll butt out.’

  She hesitated long enough for him to wonder why. What might she have been doing at this time last year: champagne breakfast, early hairdo, spa? He imagined her celebrating her last morning of freedom as a single woman, blissfully unaware of what would happen to her later in the day. Hilary Forsythe would have been joyful too, getting ready to receive her into his family. His benevolent words arrived in Ryan’s head . . .

  You take good care of her.

  She yielded. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘It wasn’t hard to work out. He loves you dearly. You’re not the only one affected by what happened a year ago, Eloise. You need to give the guy a break.’ She dropped her head, resumed reading her newspaper, shutting him out for the rest of the morning.

  ‘This is BBC Radio Newcastle. Breaking news at midday. In Devon, the flooded River Lemon claimed the life of a forty-six-year-old man who died trying to rescue a dog. Witnesses say the man was swept away shortly before noon after gale-force winds and persistent rain battered the southwest of the country. Despite the efforts of Devon and Cornwall Police, the man bystanders hailed a hero could not be resuscitated. The animal survived . . .’

  Ryan noticed Caroline stroking Bob’s head. He killed the radio, cutting off the distressing report and logged on to his computer. Within a few minutes, he was engrossed in the Sauer’s chat room. It wasn’t long before he stumbled across something that caught his interest. He didn’t say anything but, responding to his preoccupation, O’Neil raised her head.

  ‘Ryan? Have you found something?’

  ‘Not sure.’ He scrolled down the page. ‘This chat stream makes interesting reading. Someone who calls herself broken-kiss – assuming that’s a female – claims her father went to see a brief in order to stop his wife from having a second child. The lawyer who took the case failed to secure a court order.’

  ‘Any names mentioned?’

  ‘No. She refers to a “him”, so it’s definitely a male. More importantly, she’s talking to dude1980.’

  ‘Keep checking.’

  Caroline used Ryan’s room to get ready to go out. O’Neil was dressing for dinner too. When her bedroom door opened, out of habit Ryan stood up. She looked amazing in a fitted black dress, killer heels, a string of tiny pearls and a pair of exquisite drop earrings to match. It was the style of a bygone era, reminiscent of a lead character in a fifties movie. She was glamour personified but, in spite of the effort she’d made, she didn’t appear happy.

  Ryan’s bedroom door opened and Caroline entered the living room.

  ‘Wow! You two are really going for it.’ He felt more comfortable lumping them together in one compliment. It gave him a good excuse to stare. Caroline’s hair was up and she looked lovely, if more Bohemian in style. Like O’Neil, she was fully made up. Ryan had never understood how she managed that. He couldn’t brush his teeth without a mirror.

  O’Neil checked her watch, slipped her phone into a silver clutch bag.

  ‘You need to leave that here, guv. Just in case.’ He hadn’t given Spielberg his number. If she phoned, it would be on Eloise’s device.

  ‘Yes, I better had.’

  Ryan held up his mobile. ‘Want to take mine?’

  ‘No, Forsythe has several and you have his number. I’ll be fine.’ She took the mobile out of her bag but hung on to it. ‘Let me call Hilary and the kids quickly. I’d like to wish them a Happy Christmas before I go.’

  As she made the call, Ryan walked to the window, feeling like a shit for passing on the opportunity to stay over with Jack’s family. Outside of the job, Hilary Fenwick was his best friend. She hadn’t complained – she knew he was working – although she was very disappointed.

  Down on the street below, Forsythe’s Porsche cruised towards the building. Several floors above, Ryan heard the throaty roar of the Carrera’s engine as it changed gear, entering the underground car park. There was no way Forsythe’s dinner guest would take her chances in the rain.

  Moments later, the doorbell rang.

  Ryan swung round.

  O’Neil hung up as he walked towards her. Panic rose in her eyes – a plea almost – she didn’t want to go. Not tonight. As she offered him her mobile, their hands touched briefly, a moment charged with electricity. Her scent was divine. This close, he could see how very beautiful she was. What must she have looked like in a wedding dress? For the first time in his life, Ryan felt jealous of another man.

  The doorbell again.

  Ryan shook hands with Forsythe as he let him in.

  As the two men walked into the living room, O’Neil’s mobile rang in Ryan’s hand. She almost lunged forward to take it from him, grateful for the excuse to answer. Any justification to delay her dinner date was welcome. Much as she loved Hilary Forsythe – Ryan had no doubt that she did – this was one engagement she could well do without.

  She raised her eyes from the screen.

  ‘Operation Shadow,’ she said.

  Caroline promised to keep
quiet and wished her twin the best of luck. Forsythe nodded for him to take the call. Taking the phone from Eloise, a deep breath in at the same time, Ryan put the phone on speaker so they could listen in. It was THE most important call he’d ever take.

  ‘Marge, thanks for ringing! And on Christmas Eve! And there was me thinking we’d fallen out.’

  ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ Her voice was noticeably weaker.

  ‘You have a habit of cutting me off. That’s not polite.’

  ‘Something came up.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Nowt important.’

  There was a noise in the background. Caroline had her head on one side, concentrating. When she made no attempt to draw Ryan’s attention, her brother took it as a cue to continue. She hadn’t nailed the sound.

  ‘Do you have company?’ Ryan asked.

  ‘Do you?’

  Clever.

  ‘C’mon, you can tell me. Did someone come in? Was it Santa? You must’ve been extra good for him to call this early.’ Ryan listened carefully, one eye on Eloise. Her panic was gone. Spielberg was her Get Out of Jail Free card. Forsythe may as well cancel their dinner reservation. ‘Is he with you now?’ he asked. ‘Is that why you can’t talk?’

  ‘No, I’m alone.’ Her voice broke.

  ‘C’mon, it’s Christmas. Why so down in the mouth? You should be out celebrating.’ When she didn’t answer, Ryan carried on: ‘Anyone would think you were party to our intelligence.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘We have an eyewitness, Marge.’

  ‘Bully for you.’

  ‘You were seen outside the British Embassy in Copenhagen. You think you turned away when the security guards came? There were other people watching you. The person who saw you will do well on the witness stand. She thought you had a close personal relationship with the man you were with. I think that man is very important to you. Is it your brother, Mark?’

  In the silence that followed, Caroline immediately became animated. She tugged at Ryan’s sleeve, causing him to face her, used her index fingers to draw tears on her face. Ryan squeezed her hand as a thank you. He changed tack. It was time to stop being flippant.

  He might have an in here.

  ‘Are you still there, Sophia?’ It was the first time he’d called her by her real name, personalizing their relationship. She didn’t reject it. Maybe her work was done and she didn’t care. Maybe she was finally getting ready to do everyone a favour and end it all. If Robert Parker was correct, she’d threatened to do it once before. ‘Has something upset you? C’mon, spit it out. You can talk to me. Nothing is ever as bad as it seems. I can help.’

  She cleared her throat. ‘Sod off, I’m fine.’

  Caroline shook her head. Sophia was lying. The others didn’t need her to tell them that. If Montgomery was getting upset, there was a reason for it. It signalled a definite chink in her armour that Ryan might capitalize on. He tried again.

  ‘Clearly you need to talk, Sophia. If you have a problem let’s discuss it.’ No response. ‘Something is bothering you – I think I know what it is.’ Still nothing. Ryan glanced at his watch. Montgomery would ring off before the call could be traced. Time to let her know that his luck finding a witness in Denmark wasn’t all he had.

  Turn the screw.

  ‘You lied to us, Sophie. You told us, time and again, that your victims deserved what you doled out. That wasn’t true though, was it? The guy you killed in Whitley Bay didn’t do anything to you, did he? He was an innocent bystander. Is that what’s upsetting you, the fact that you’ve killed a man who wasn’t part of your plan? I know he wasn’t part of your plan. I worked that out already. You did it because he saw you, because he could ID you, isn’t that the truth of it?’

  O’Neil and Forsythe were nodding encouragement. Interview technique was not about giving suspects information that would benefit them in any way, rather to prove that detectives hunting them were closing in and to provoke a reaction from cavalier offenders like Montgomery. Up to now, Ryan had kept communication flowing, but he was running out of time.

  ‘The guy you killed was a nurse, a person universally liked, someone who’d spent his adult life in the service of others. I can appreciate how bad that makes you feel. Who did it, Sophia? Was it you or Mark?’ She didn’t admit or deny anything. To Ryan, the dialling tone was like his case flat-lining.

  Montgomery was gone.

  ‘Good job, son,’ Forsythe said. ‘I’d say you came out on top there.’

  Ryan didn’t feel worthy of praise. Unaware of his discontent, or possibly ignoring it, Forsythe turned to face his twin. ‘And you, my dear, must be Caroline. I’ve heard so much about you from so many barristers. All good, I hasten to add. My colleagues at the bar aren’t known for giving compliments unless they’re justified. I knew your father. He was a good man, a credit to his uniform.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  O’Neil studied Ryan. ‘Why the face? You did well.’

  ‘I did nowt.’ He scowled. ‘She never even said why she called.’

  ‘I have a view on that,’ Caroline said.

  ‘Go for it! I can do with all the help I can get.’

  ‘She was like Ice Woman on the tapes and didn’t flinch when you were goading her about the nurse, even though it must have appalled her to discover that Fraser was a medic if, as you suspect, her brother has the disease. Sophia won’t cry easily. Her tears would suggest that she’s upset about something far more serious than killing someone who got in her way, perhaps something personal or, dare I say, monumental.’

  Ølgaard’s voice arrived in Ryan’s head: anorexia?

  Then Pedersen’s: Yes, the man with the phone looked like her.

  Ryan’s eyes widened. ‘What if it’s both monumental and medical?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ O’Neil asked.

  ‘At one of the briefings last week we discussed how long justice takes in this country, right?’ He glanced at Forsythe. ‘No offence, sir . . . I put forward the idea that our offenders weren’t prepared to wait for the judicial process, that they were impatient vigilantes wreaking revenge. What if one of them physically couldn’t wait? If Mark Montgomery is deteriorating rapidly, that would explain why his sister is upset.’

  ‘Or maybe Sophia is ill herself now,’ Caroline said. ‘We all develop diseases at different rates, don’t we? Some people live with cancer for years, others fade away immediately after diagnosis. Her personality would suggest that she’d belong to the former category. You said yourself, she’s fighting those who wronged her.’

  ‘Ryan, you and I have work to do,’ O’Neil said. As Gold Commander with a depleted team, she was going nowhere. Forsythe took it well. The case was ultimately her responsibility. Ryan was already raising an action – a nationwide trawl of hospital admission departments – in an effort to trace either sibling. O’Neil removed her earrings, kicked off her heels and sat down.

  60

  With Forsythe’s help, the search warrant was secured within hours. He flew Ryan and O’Neil to Bletchley in a private jet he’d hired to take him south on Christmas Day. Clearly, O’Neil was not the only one pleased to avoid an encounter with the past. Unsurprisingly, father and son hadn’t seen eye to eye this year. The truth of it was, they never would again.

  Both target properties had escaped the flooding. The detectives searched Mark Montgomery’s flat first, local crime scene investigators in tow. Apart from a worn pair of size ten shoes, they found nothing startling there: an untidy mess, a lot of drugs – prescription and illegal – no family memorabilia to speak of, a computer wire but no computer, a sorry excuse for a home all round. The CSIs would do a job on the place, lifting samples for comparison with DNA found at crime scenes.

  Maybe they’d get lucky.

  Ryan and O’Neil were ferried between addresses by Thames Valley police on empty wet streets. The wind had gone but the rain was relentless. There would be no white Christmas
for any British kids. No sledging or rides on new bikes. No roller-skating and scuffed knees.

  Ryan’s mobile rang as they pulled up outside Sophia Montgomery’s place. The house was in darkness. No need to rush in there. He checked the screen, grinned at O’Neil.

  ‘Grace?’ Eloise already knew the answer.

  ‘The one and only.’ Ryan pressed to receive the call. ‘Merry Christmas, missus. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today.’

  ‘Liar.’

  ‘I’m serious. Please pass on my regards to Frank.’

  ‘And ours to you too, Matthew.’

  ‘Hey, cut it out! The Sunday name is reserved for Caroline and well you know it. If you’re not tucked up in bed with a movie, eating chocolate, what are you guys up to?’

  ‘You’re at work. We’re at work. Caroline is with us now. She had a great night last night, a super morning with the kids. They all said to tell you they loved their presents. Lucy made you a card. It’s so sweet. And we have a special visitor here at base.’

  ‘What?’ Ryan was horrified.

  ‘Don’t panic,’ she said. ‘With no transport to take him anywhere, Hilary joined us. He brought goodies. It’s quite a party. We’re drinking good champagne and eating luxury mince pies. Tell Eloise she has a full backup team.’

  ‘Sounds like fun.’ He glanced across the rear seat. ‘They’re in the office.’

  ‘So I gathered.’

  ‘I have two presents for Dumbo.’ Grace didn’t stop for breath. ‘Not from me, I hasten to add. She knows I’m not that generous. These are special delivery, from Santa.’

  O’Neil shuffled closer to Ryan, enjoying the chat.

  Grace was on top form.

  ‘Careful what you say,’ Ryan warned. ‘Someone we both know is listening.’

  O’Neil played along. ‘Can we have our present now?’

  ‘Only if you’ve been good.’

  ‘I have, get on with it.’

  ‘Mark Montgomery’s symptoms came on two years ago. I’m in possession of his medical records and on first-name terms with his GP.’ She chuckled. ‘I think he fancies me. The good doctor described Montgomery as unpredictable but resourceful, with a list of ailments as long as your arm. He was in a very bad way. It’s a wonder he ever managed to carry out those attacks.’