Perfect Silence

by Helen Fields

  ‘Have you really lost faith in mankind to that extent?’ he asked.

  ‘Some days,’ Ava said. ‘Perhaps I have.’

  ‘Well then, there’s something I need to tell you about Detective Superintendent Overbeck that might change your mind. Turns out she did her best to defend you before you were called to the disciplinary board committee.’

  ‘Who told you that?’ Ava asked.

  ‘Lively.’

  ‘That figures, but I’m afraid he’s not the most reliable source of information.’

  ‘There’s more. It was Overbeck – via Lively – who asked me to instruct Ben Paulson about the mobile data in the slashing case. She even paid him out of her own pocket. No question about it.’

  ‘Are you sure? Only she’s an easier woman to hate than to like. If you’re even one per cent unsure about this …’

  ‘I’m not, I’m afraid. It’s not that I disagree with your assessment of Overbeck’s qualities. I just thought you should know the truth.’

  ‘Which would mean that I owe her an apology. Damn,’ Ava said, pulling the sleeves of her jumper over her hands.

  ‘And that is something I would absolutely love to see,’ Callanach smiled, as they walked back through the tunnel of trees.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  ‘Ms Jerome, you understand that this interview is being recorded, but you are not under arrest. You may ask to stop at any time and you’re not obliged to answer any of my questions, although it will assist us if you do. Given that we found your brother with Caroline, we will need to carry out substantial forensic investigations on not only the greenhouse, but also inside your home. You will need to find somewhere else to stay while that happens,’ Ava said, casting a glance in the direction of the uniformed officer next to her who was taking notes.

  Rachel Jerome sat opposite them, coat hugged tightly around her, a box of tissues in front of her. The puffy redness of her eyes and her hunched stance were evidence that her brother’s arrest had started to sink in. There was always a time delay. Arresting a loved one for a serious crime had its own set of emotional stages, much like grief, Ava had found. Shock, disbelief, anger, horror, then the inevitable soul searching.

  ‘Before you start, may I ask … How did Samson do it? Kill them, I mean,’ Rachel asked.

  ‘You haven’t heard?’ Ava replied.

  ‘I don’t have a television. I suppose I live a simple life. Old fashioned these days, I know. I find even listening to the news on the radio too distressing most of the time.’

  ‘There were surgical wounds,’ Ava said. ‘Each girl suffered massive trauma and blood loss.’ Rachel pressed the back of her right hand against her mouth, trembling, eyes closed. ‘Ms Jerome, I know this is difficult but I need to press on. Can I confirm that you’ve been seen by a medic and that you feel well enough to speak with us now?’

  Rachel nodded, sniffing a couple of times before sitting more upright in her chair and pushing the crumpled tissues she’d been clasping into her pocket. ‘I’m fine, thank you. You must have a lot of questions. I’ll answer what I can.’

  ‘I appreciate that. Have you travelled with your brother in his vehicle into Edinburgh or the surrounding areas at any time in the last few weeks?’

  ‘Not at all. I really don’t like the van. It’s terribly creaky. Doesn’t feel altogether safe,’ she replied.

  ‘Has anyone other than you or your brother been in your house in the last few weeks?’ Ava continued.

  ‘No one at all. We live rather a long way from civilisation. Samson and I used to come and go independently of one another. He never gave away a thing. You’d think there’d have been some sort of change, something obvious … Did I miss something? If I missed something, perhaps I could have saved those poor girls … I’m so sorry. It’s just awful. I can’t believe it.’ Rachel plucked more tissues from the box and blew her nose, leaning forward as her breath hitched.

  ‘We’re just trying to establish the facts and a timeline, Ms Jerome. No one’s suggesting this is your fault. When did you last visit the greenhouse?’

  ‘Perhaps six months ago, possibly more. Gardening’s not my thing. I dislike the mud, and having dirt under my nails. Samson has green fingers though. He grows all our vegetables, and a little fruit if it’s a warm summer. Where is he now? Has he told you why he did it? That’s what I don’t understand. He’s never been a violent man. Not once. It defies logic.’

  ‘Your brother made a series of voluntary statements to the officers who transported him to the hospital. Perhaps unsurprisingly, given the fact that we found him with Caroline, he has admitted abducting and killing each of the girls. For the record, he was advised that he shouldn’t be confessing anything until he had legal advice. Apparently he insisted,’ Ava said.

  ‘Perhaps God was intervening, in an effort to save his soul. It’s the first step to salvation,’ Rachel said.

  Ava resisted the urge to raise her eyebrows. Salvation for a serial killer who had tortured his victims and most likely raped one of them was a concept she found repugnant. Eternal damnation, yes. Working towards forgiveness? That really would have to be granted by an open-minded deity.

  ‘He also said that you had no idea what he was doing. He was very clear about it,’ Ava said, watching Rachel’s face carefully as she delivered the news.

  There was a remarkable blankness to her face, as if she hadn’t heard what Ava had just said, or at least as if it hadn’t sunk in. Any number of responses might have been forthcoming. Confusion at the suggestion that her involvement could ever have been contemplated. Outrage that anyone might have considered her involvement possible. Even fury that her brother had thought it necessary to make her innocence plain to the police. But there was nothing. Ava stared at her, conscious of the passing seconds and wondering if she needed to repeat the statement.

  ‘Even with all the harm he’s done, he still has space for truth in his heart,’ Rachel said eventually. ‘I’m grateful for that mercy. What will happen to him now?’

  ‘Once he’s been signed off by the doctor as fit to be interviewed, I’ll be cautioning and charging him,’ Ava explained, shaking off the sense that Rachel’s reactions were more staged than genuine. Shock made everyone behave abnormally.

  ‘Can I see him?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. Ms Jerome, there is one matter we don’t yet understand. No one from the Children of the Word recognised your brother, and you said yourself he didn’t attend services there.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Rachel replied, frowning slightly, tipping her head to one side as if trying to properly comprehend where Ava was going with the line of questioning.

  ‘But the first victims – Zoey and Lorna – both had links to your church group. Zoey was Christopher Myers’ stepdaughter and Lorna was a patient of nurse Lydia McMahon. I am curious as to how your brother might have heard of those young women.’

  There was a lengthy pause before Rachel let out a long sigh, her shoulders collapsing forward, head rolling towards her chest. Ava was about to reach forward and stop her before her forehead could hit the desk when suddenly Rachel bolted upright, howling and scratching at her own cheeks.

  ‘God forgive me. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. They died because of me. Those poor little girls …’

  Ava reached across the table, taking hold of Rachel’s wrists. ‘Ms Jerome, please stop, you’re going to injure yourself.’

  ‘But they died because I told him about them. If I’d only kept my mouth shut. I broke the rules because I had nothing else to talk about,’ she sobbed. ‘The church is my life. I bake and I read, but who wants to talk about that at the end of the day? It was all I had, the things I heard about other people’s lives. I never thought, not for a second, that he would take it to heart … I should have died instead of them.’ She began a low moaning, rocking back and forth, tears falling unchecked onto the desk.

  Ava continued. ‘What did you tell Samson about Zoey Cole, Ms Jerome?’

  ‘J
ust her allegations against her stepfather. We prayed for the family regularly. The poor girl seemed determined to bring trouble to Christopher’s door. Her mother didn’t know what to do any more,’ she cried.

  ‘And Lorna?’ Ava asked.

  ‘Only what Lydia told the prayer group. That she was a lost soul who had brought a baby into the world without knowing who the father was. Personally, I blamed Lorna’s parents. Children need guidance, boundaries …’

  ‘Was your brother very religious, would you say?’ Ava asked.

  ‘Fiercely,’ Rachel replied, curling her hands into fists. ‘That’s why I just can’t understand this. We prayed together before every meal, and tried to live simply in God’s image. What could have driven him to kill?’

  ‘The notes he sent indicated that he felt the women were steeped in sin, for want of a better phrase. I’m not sure if he was punishing them or if he thought he was saving them,’ Ava explained.

  ‘Notes?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘A doll was made from each victim’s skin. There was a Bible passage included inside each that seemed to be relevant to their background. Did he ever discuss any verses with you that he seemed especially interested in?’

  Rachel shook her head, rising from her seat and letting her jacket fall onto her chair.

  ‘Ms Jerome?’ Ava said. ‘Do you need something?’

  Rachel Jerome sank to her knees on the floor. Ava wanted to tell her that of all the surfaces, the floor of a police interview room was not somewhere she would recommend kneeling down, but by then the woman had commenced praying. Crying and praying. Asking for forgiveness. Asking to be shown how to make amends for her brother’s sins.

  ‘Can you take it from here?’ Ava asked the uniformed officer with her. It was clear that the useful part of the interview was over. It appeared Ms Jerome would only be speaking with God for a while.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Exiting Rachel Jerome’s interview room, Ava walked two doors along to find DC Salter with a tearful Oliver Davenport and his lawyer. Through another window she could see Leo Plunkett rocking back in his chair, arms folded, being given heavily gesticulated advice by both his mother and two lawyers. The prosecution was far from a done deal. The first two victims might never be found to attend court, and if they did there was every chance they would be useless giving evidence. If that happened, then making the case stick that the Melanie Long killing was one in a chain might be difficult. So many hurdles to overcome, but MIT had done all it could. The legal system would take over now, and that always seemed a lottery.

  ‘Excuse me please, madam,’ a well-spoken English voice sounded from behind her.

  Ava turned to see a bespectacled lawyer in a three-piece suit clutching a notebook, ushering in Noah Alby-Croft, who was handcuffed and being followed by the extraordinary bulk of Pax Graham. Behind them was Noah’s father.

  ‘All right, Ava.’ Noah blew a kiss at her as he passed.

  DS Graham put a hand against the boy’s back, propelling him forward into another interview suite, giving Ava a brief smile and nod. Alby-Croft senior paused next to Ava, leaning down to whisper in her ear. ‘My son will walk out of here, and when he does, I’m going to see to it that your career is finished once and for all.’

  ‘Oh, please, would you stop? Just forget the bullshit. Your son needs you. He’s in a great deal of trouble. That has to be your priority. Has it occurred to you that if your parenting had been better earlier on, Noah wouldn’t be here? Forget Oxford, forget whatever stupid club it was he wanted to join and think about what he really needs. Maybe take a few minutes to consider the sort of man you want your son to be. Perhaps that’s also the sort of man you yourself should have aspired to be.’

  She left the area and took the stairs, dropping her coat in her office before heading up to see Detective Superintendent Overbeck.

  Lively was already in there. Of course he was. Ava would have laughed had she not been so exhausted.

  ‘Ma’am,’ Ava said. ‘I gather the three boys will all be charged with the killing of Melanie Long.’

  ‘Yes, we’re confident that we can find blood residue on either shoes or clothing. A search of all their homes is being implemented. Also, we now have enough to get a warrant to check through their communications devices,’ Overbeck said.

  ‘Officially, this time.’ Ava smiled.

  ‘Yes, that French police officer didn’t do a bad job, getting his hacker friend to find a way in. Well done with the girl, too. I spoke to DS Graham about how you handled it – off the record, of course. I would just like to say, that was beyond your remit given you’d been taken off the case.’

  ‘You can stop now,’ Ava said. ‘I know it was you who got Lively to approach Callanach.’

  ‘Frigging men, can’t keep their mouths closed for a second. Did you spill it, Lively?’

  ‘Not me. I told Detective Inspector Fancypants to keep it to himself.’

  ‘How did you know Callanach was in contact with a hacker who would help?’ Ava asked.

  ‘I don’t know what’s more insulting. You thinking I’m stupid, or blind, or that I don’t have a handle on absolutely everything that happens in my police station. Ben Paulson seems to be a valuable, if illegal, asset. You seem to have no scruples about abusing that friendship when it suits you so, why should I? It worked,’ Overbeck said, raising her eyebrows and sticking her nose in the air.

  ‘Daisy,’ Ava said softly. ‘I came to apologise.’

  Overbeck scraped her chair back with a noise that would have been extreme even in a horror movie. Ava winced. The detective superintendent walked slowly, her heels clacking like a noisy clock’s second hand as she moved around her desk to stand in front of Ava, putting one perfectly manicured fingernail under Ava’s chin to stare directly into her eyes.

  ‘If you ever, ever, use my flowery fucking first name again, Detective Chief Inspector, I will not be responsible for using extreme violence against you, and I don’t care about your expertise in the martial arts, or your tenacity, or your relative youth. I will destroy you.’

  ‘Ay, she really doesn’t like that,’ Lively added with a laugh.

  ‘Get your low-hanging scrotum out of my office, Lively. You’re not a high enough pay grade to pronoun me,’ Overbeck said, turning abruptly and opening a cupboard. She poured two glasses of whisky, the measure greater than Ava would have normally thought appropriate for lunchtime. She took it anyway. There was only so much violence it was sensible to induce from a woman wearing six-inch stilettos with nails to match.

  ‘As I was saying, I’m sorry. I assumed too much. I thought you were on Alby-Croft’s side. I believed the disciplinary hearing was down to you because …’ She trailed off.

  ‘Because I’m screwing Lively, and you can’t get it out of your head that I’m not going to punish you for what you saw?’

  ‘I wasn’t going to put it quite like that,’ Ava said.

  ‘Yes, well, however you were going to put it, just because I’m a bitch does not, contrary to popular opinion, mean I don’t care about MIT’s cases. Or my officers. You’re not a bad DCI, Turner. A bit green, maybe. You need to knock off that dull crusader thing you’ve got going. Frankly, it’s unhelpful. You want to be devious? Take my advice, it’s best done with a smile rather than a statement of ball-breaking intent. You’re like an overenthusiastic schoolgirl sometimes.’

  ‘So, the fact that you had the hacked texts put under Pax Graham’s door rather than pursue them yourself wasn’t about making sure no resulting shit hit your personal fan, then?’ Ava asked, sipping the whisky.

  ‘Of course it fucking was. Lively delivered the texts to that somewhat impressive Hulk lookalike knowing he’d take them to you. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist following them up. My team stayed out of the questionable activity and you regained the moral high ground. Win, win, I’d say, or are you going to start moaning again?’

  ‘No.’ Ava shook her head. ‘No more moaning. I underestima
ted you, ma’am. Both how manipulative you are and how good a police officer you are.’

  ‘Same fucking thing, Turner. Same fucking thing. Now, update on this deviant wanker who’s been carving up young women,’ Overbeck said, slamming her empty glass onto the desk.

  ‘He’s in custody but hospitalised. DI Callanach and I found it necessary to use substantial force to prevent an attempt on Caroline Ryan’s life. He’ll live to stand trial, though.’

  ‘And Miss Ryan? What shape’s she in?’

  ‘We had confirmation half an hour ago that she’s in a coma. Samson Jerome struck her a serious blow to her upper skull with a spade. It was aimed at her neck. Callanach saved her life, for what it’s worth. He’s a dab hand at brick lobbing. We won’t know more until the hospital have had time to perform full scans. Her fiancé is with her. Other than severe dehydration and some damage to her wrists and ankles, she’s otherwise unharmed,’ Ava reported.

  ‘Unharmed? She’ll be traumatised for life if she ever comes round. Get the paperwork in order. I want that bastard to go down until all trace of him has been eaten by worms in his coffin. No screw-ups.’

  ‘Got it,’ Ava said. ‘Before I go … About Lively. Are you two—’

  ‘Really? None of your goddamned business. But the man needs to go on a diet if he’s not going to keel over next time he exerts himself. From now on, I want all cakes and biscuits banned from the incident room.’

  ‘Uh, I’m not sure I can implement that, given the …’