by Jane Isaac
‘Are you sure you understand how to use this?’ she asked Gina, picking up the personal alarm and rolling it over in her hands.
Freeman had taken some persuading to agree to an alarm with a direct link to the police control room. They rarely used them these days, due to their hefty cost, but Beth had pressed hard. If Gina was on Yates’s list, she needed protection.
The door flapped open and Isla entered, the mugs rattling against the tray as she set it down.
‘Do you really think Gina’s at risk here?’ Isla said, eyeing the alarm.
‘No,’ Beth said reassuringly. ‘This is merely a precaution. We want Gina to feel safe. We are doing everything we can to locate Yates,’ she said to Gina. ‘It’s only a matter of time.’
Gina didn’t answer, her bewildered gaze resting on Isla who was placing the mugs of tea down on carefully arranged coasters. She’d lost everything and was facing the possibility that some of the vicious rumours surrounding her late husband, a man she thought she knew, a husband, a father, her life companion, were true. And the killer was still out there. It was crippling to watch her suffer.
‘We were discussing where to put it,’ Beth said to Isla, holding up the alarm. ‘It needs to be hidden, but also easily accessible.’
‘Ah. What about behind Phoebe’s graduation photo?’ Isla said to Gina, ignoring the glassy stare the other woman returned. ‘That way we’ll both know where it is.’
Beth gave Isla the box and explained how it worked. They positioned the device and moved back to the sofas.
‘Come on, dear,’ Isla said to Gina. ‘Let’s not let the tea get cold.’
*
Beth’s phone rang as she walked back to her car.
‘Hi Beth, it’s Paul Osborne here.’
An affectionate smile touched Beth’s lips. She’d been tutored by Osborne as a rookie on uniformed response. He was a no-nonsense cop with a good eye for detail and she wasn’t surprised when he later took his detective exams and was promoted to sergeant. She’d recently heard he was working on one of the teams at headquarters and kept meaning to look him up.
‘Hey,’ she said warmly. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘I wanted to thank you for the information you passed to my team this morning.’
‘You’re on the organised crime unit? I didn’t realise.’
‘Yes, I joined them a couple of months ago. Anyway, I thought you’d want to know – we’ve arranged a raid on Ian Waite’s property this evening.’
‘Oh.’ The organised crime office had been almost empty when she’d called by that morning. She’d left Kyle’s information with a bored-looking analyst, expecting little to come of it. ‘I take it you’ve got something else on him?’
‘We have. Ian Waite’s been in our sights for a while,’ Osborne said. ‘We suspected he’d gained some seniority in a local drugs ring and was running his own patch. Your information links with other intelligence we have. I’m just organising the warrant.’
‘Great, let me know how you get on.’
‘Do you mind me asking about the informant?’ Osborne asked. ‘I’ve got the information listed as an anonymous tip.’
Beth bit her lip. As Freeman had said, an informant had a right to confidentiality. But… Kyle’s agenda wasn’t yet clear and she refused to become a pawn in whatever game he was playing. ‘Strictly between you and me?’
‘Of course.’
‘It was Kyle Thompson.’
‘The Kyle Thompson?’ She could hear the amazement in his voice. ‘What’s your connection with him? You’re keeping shady company there, Beth.’
Beth held her breath a second, not wishing to discuss her sister’s relationship with a known criminal, although if they’d been watching Kyle, they probably already knew. ‘He’s moved into my village,’ she said. ‘You know what it’s like, everyone there knows I’m police.’
‘Do you think you could persuade him to become a registered informant? It’d certainly be useful to have someone on the inside.’
Beth recalled Kyle’s cocky attitude when she met him at the village store, days earlier, and the impressively large house he’d purchased. She couldn’t imagine him putting any of that on the line. ‘I doubt it.’ She relayed their earlier conversation.
‘Hmm.’ Osborne sounded suspicious. ‘The team here have been after Kyle and those linked to him for months. He’s moving up the drugs chain. It’s possible he wants to muscle in on Waite’s patch. I will keep his name out of it, but I’ll let you know if anything links back to him.’
Beth thanked Osborne and ended the call. Kyle had chosen her because of her connection to Eden. By now, he’d have realised she hadn’t reported the fight in the street the other night and was using that to his advantage. But there was no way she was going to be his go-to police contact when he decided he wanted to kick someone aside. It was no longer a matter of keeping Kyle from Eden. She needed to find a way of removing him from both their lives before he could cause any more damage.
39
Beth elbowed the door closed behind her. It was shortly after 4 p.m. and the house was quiet. Her mind burned with images of Dale Yates. Forensics were working through the garage. Back at the office, they were searching for a sighting of Yates or the Nissan. It was a waiting game.
In her front room, Myrtle was curled on an armchair beside the window, in a pocket of heat obligingly bestowed by the autumn sun. Beth bent down and stroked the cat’s back. Smears of red marked her fur. More spots of red dotted the leather chair. Blood.
‘Have you been fighting again?’ Beth asked. She gently lifted the cat into her arms to take a closer look. Myrtle mewled as she examined her coat. It wasn’t until she turned her over that she saw blood coming from a gash on one of the pads of a back paw. ‘How did you do that?’ she asked, kissing her pet’s head fondly and placing her back down. The cat ignored her and licked her paw. She’d done a pretty good job of cleaning it up; a trip to the vet’s wasn’t needed. ‘Let’s find you a treat to make it better.’
Myrtle plopped down off the chair and followed Beth into the hallway. The kitchen door was pulled to. Beth pushed it open and gasped. The pane in the back window was shattered. Shards of glass were scattered across the floor, sparkling like diamonds in the early evening sunshine. Beth grabbed the cat and placed her back in the front room, eyes darting in all directions as she did so. She checked the dining room, grabbed a heavy old torch out of a drawer and made for the stairs. The bathroom was empty. She held the torch out, ready to use it as a weapon. A waft of mustiness filled her nose as she opened the door to the spare room. It was clear. The other rooms were empty too. She let out a breath. Ran back down the stairs. In the front room, Myrtle was in the corner. The games console was still in situ, the television unmoved.
As Beth bent down to stroke the cat, her phone slipped out of her pocket. She made to catch it but was too late. It hit the marble hearth with a loud snap. Damn! A crooked crack stretched the length of the screen.
It wasn’t until Beth rose that she noticed a square of paper, poking out from behind a candle on the mantel. She pulled it down, unfolded it. The chill that rushed over her was like being plunged into icy cold water.
Justitia suum cuique distribuit.
He’d been there.
Beth rushed to the front door and ran outside. Her heart hammered in her chest. There was no sign of life; even her neighbours’ driveways were clear. A faint swish sounded as cars passed along the nearby A43, but apart from that the air was still.
A creak behind her made her spin around. The side gate to her garden was ajar. She glared at it; she hadn’t noticed it open when she’d arrived home earlier. Slowly, she walked towards it and pushed it back, exposing the side passage that ran to her back garden.
‘Who’s there?’ she called out.
When there was no answer, she walked down the side of the house gingerly, her senses alert, and surveyed the empty patio, the broken back window. Sunlight sparkl
ed off the shards of glass, creating a rainbow of colours. The killer had been there, broken in and left the note, but appeared to be gone now.
She remembered the photos from the breeze-blocked wall in the garage. The ones of her, arriving and leaving Gina’s house; visiting Olive Underwood; crossing the police station car park. Her skin crawled. She raised her phone to call it in when she heard the purr of an engine and ducked back down the side passage and out into the driveway, just as Nick pulled up in his Spider.
At the sight of Beth, Nick swerved. The car jerked to a halt. He jumped out. ‘What are you doing? I nearly drove into you.’
She pulled herself together. ‘Why are you here?’
‘I was at Hollowbrook Nursing Home, double-checking on Sarah Carpenter, the last member of Whitefield’s staff on our list. They wanted to see a senior officer. For reassurance that they could continue business as usual with the police guard we’ve placed on her. Why we couldn’t do it over the phone, I don’t know.’
‘In your Spider?’ She gestured towards his Alfa Romeo on the driveway. She couldn’t understand why he’d chosen a classic car for an everyday run-around.
‘There weren’t any pool cars available.’
‘Well, I hope it’s insured for business use.’
He snorted. ‘You okay? You look pale. I was worried about you after those photos in Yates’s garage.’
Beth held up the note, desperately trying to control the tremors in her hand. ‘He was here.’
‘Who?’
‘Dale Yates.’
‘Christ!’
He tried to lead her into the house, but she shook her head. ‘He broke in. We need to get the CSIs out.’
Nick grabbed his phone and made some calls. She was aware of him shooting commands in the background, requesting backup, a full CSI team and a PolSA search team, but she wasn’t really listening. Questions were rattling around in her mind: Why would the killer break into her home? What was his motive for leaving her a note?
‘Sit down,’ Nick said as he ended the call. He guided her to the doorstep.
She rested her palms on her temples, trying to settle her thoughts.
Nick rummaged through a bag in the boot of his car and pulled out some overshoes.
‘You shouldn’t go in there,’ she said. ‘It’s a crime scene.’
‘I don’t care.’ He snapped on some gloves.
‘In that case, can you do me a favour? I’ve shut Myrtle in the front room, but the CSIs are bound to focus there because it’s where I found the note. Will you move her to the bathroom with some food and water? There’s some cat litter and a tray in the cupboard under the stairs. I don’t want her upset any more than necessary.’
Nick nodded and went inside. Feet thundered the stairs. She heard doors squeak open. The crunch of glass in the kitchen. A tap running. Eventually Nick returned. ‘He’s definitely gone.’
‘I could have told you that. I’ve already checked.’
‘You’re in shock.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Do you know how he got here?’
‘I’d just got back. He could have broken in hours ago; I haven’t been back here since I left this morning.’
‘We’ll do a house to house, in case anyone’s seen anything.’
She glanced around the empty street and frowned. ‘Did you move Myrtle?’
‘All sorted. I’ve put her bed in the bathroom too. I’ll inform the CSIs she’s there.’
‘Make sure they’re careful with her.’
‘Don’t worry.’
He passed her a glass of water. The cold liquid slid through her insides, calming her frayed nerves.
‘I’m calling an ambulance,’ Nick said.
‘No.’
‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
The thought of an ambulance sent her reeling. She was still trying to convince Freeman that she didn’t need babysitting; the last thing she wanted was to appear weak and fall to pieces because her house had been broken into. ‘I’m okay.’
An idea rushed into her head at breakneck speed. ‘Where’s Gina?’
‘At home, I presume. Why?’
‘If it’s something to do with the photographs on the garage wall, Gina was also pictured there.’
She made to stand, but Nick pushed her back down. ‘You’re not fit to go anywhere. This is a crime scene and you were the target. I’ll get someone to check on her.’
Beth wasn’t listening to him. She ran her fingers across the broken screen on her phone, selected Gina’s number and called. A buoyant voice answered at the other end. It was Isla.
‘Isla, it’s DC Beth Chamberlain. I’m checking you’re okay? And Gina?’
‘We’re fine, thank you. Gina is having a nap. Is there some news?’
Beth fought to keep her tone even. ‘No, it’s a welfare call. You know where I am if you need me.’ She ended the call, her mind on overdrive. ‘The note,’ she said to Nick. ‘What if it’s a decoy? To draw attention here. If he follows the pattern, his next victim should be someone connected to the children’s home.’
Nick stared back at her. ‘The only member of staff left is Sarah Carpenter. He grabbed his phone, scrolled through the contacts and pressed call. The dial tone rang one, two three… When it clicked to voicemail, he left a quick message and rang off. He tried the home, but again the call wasn’t answered. Beth contacted the station, asked the control room to reach the officer guarding her on his radio. They’d just climbed into his car when Nick’s phone rang.
A beat passed as he listened to the caller. ‘What?’ he said eventually. Another pause. ‘No, we’re nearby. We’ll get straight over there.’ He slipped his phone into his pocket. ‘The officer’s not answering his radio. We need to get over there. Now.’
40
Nick’s Spider negotiated the bends and undulations of the country roads towards Hollowbrook Nursing Home like it was on the rails of a rollercoaster. While the car sped along, Beth tried to maintain contact with the office, the phone line dropping in and out of service as she requested urgent backup. The raw carnage at the third murder scene was embossed on her mind: blood-spattered walls; cigarette burns; the gash in Underwood’s neck. Yates was becoming more violent with every kill. With any luck the patrol cars would beat them to Sarah Carpenter. She desperately hoped so.
Dusk drew in by the minute. Clouds blanketed the sinking sunshine, thick with the promise of rain. By the time the gravelled driveway of Hollowbrook crunched beneath their wheels, it was nearly 5 p.m.
Ornate lamps lit the red-brick front with circular beams of light. A liveried police car was parked at an angle beside the main entrance. The rest of the car park was deserted: visitors already left to huddle around their fires with a warm meal, the only sane plan for such an evening.
The hail started before they climbed out of the car. Glassy bullets hammered the windscreen, needling every bare patch of skin as they hurried inside the building. The foyer was stark in its emptiness; a lone chair sat at an angle behind the reception desk. In the distance, they heard the rhythmic voice of a bingo caller, followed by the low-bellied roar of unknowing residents, incongruously consumed with their weekly activity.
Beth and Nick crossed the foyer, past a winding staircase and into a corridor leading to the ground floor rooms tucked away at the back of the house. Earlier, he’d visited the home to reassure them about Sarah Carpenter’s safety. Now they were on a desperate mission to save her life.
They dashed past two empty rooms, the doors hanging open, rounded a corner and spotted a uniformed officer walking out of another room, holding out gloved hands awkwardly. Nick raised an inquiring brow as they approached, hardly daring to speak.
The officer nodded in acknowledgement. ‘She’s still with us.’
They rushed in to find Sarah Carpenter lying on the bed, her head resting awkwardly to the side. Hoarse, laboured breaths emitted from her mouth. Dark shadows were imprinted on her neck. Another unifor
med officer stood beside her.
‘When did you get here?’ Nick asked.
‘A minute or so before you.’ The officer looked shaken. ‘I think the sound of our car interrupted him.’
‘You didn’t see anything? Where is everybody?’
‘Sounds like they’re all in the bingo hall.’
‘What about the officer guarding her?’
‘I don’t know.’ He nodded towards the hall. ‘My colleague is trying to locate him; the GPS is down on his radio.’
Beth moved Sarah Carpenter’s head in an attempt to clear her airway. She leaned in towards her. ‘It’s going to be okay,’ she said softly. ‘You’re safe now.’ The woman showed no reaction.
The empty foyer and the obsession with the weekly bingo might explain the home not reaching their phone, but where was the officer and why hadn’t he answered his radio call? She crossed to the window. It overlooked a number of cars parked at the rear. Back in the hallway, a fire door at the end was ajar.
An engine roared into life. Beth dashed back to the window. Gravel spat from the rear wheels of a Nissan as they fought for traction. She exchanged a glance with Nick and rushed out to the corridor, through the fire escape and down the side of the building to the front. When they reached Nick’s Spider, the Nissan was close to the end of the drive.
The will to end this raged through her. Yates had evaded them twice, and now he’d tried to kill again. Children’s screams filled her ears: she was back in the house on her last case. Hunched on a sofa with the family she’d tried to protect, a handgun pointed in her face. She blinked away the images. ‘Faster!’ she commanded Nick.
The engine strained, the brakes screeching as he navigated the bends on a road slick with melting hail. They were almost on Yates now, the Nissan no match for the Alfa Romeo’s horse power and manoeuvrability. He rounded another bend, disappeared from view. The engine strained under the pressure of Nick’s foot. The Nissan was back in sight. Another bend. The Spider fish-tailed and rocked. Beth gripped the edges of her seat, thought the car was going to lose its grip, but it held the road. Another bend. Sharper this time. The Nissan rocked from side to side, the back end spun.