No One's Safe: DI Max Byrd & DI Orion Tanzy book 3

by C. J. Grayson

  Then he smiled, laughed quietly to himself.

  He flicked on the light and noticed the timer had thirty-four minutes left of the cycle. The clothes he’d put in before were meant to start in the morning, so Claire could take them out, and get them dried. He must have set the timer wrong.

  He did a quick visual around the well-lit garage. The door at the back, leading to the garden, was closed, as was the garage door itself at the front.

  Happy there were no monsters in his house, he locked the garage and turned the kitchen light off. Before he climbed the stairs, for peace of mind, he checked the handle on the front door and froze, immediately feeling the icy fingers crawl up his spine when the handle dipped and the door opened inwards.

  ‘Jesus!’ he whispered in panic.

  As well as putting the wrong timer on the washing machine, he’d left the front door unlocked too. What was he thinking? He shook his tired head, had a quick peep outside. The dark street sat silent and still. He closed the door, grabbed the keys from the small table, and locked it.

  Before he went upstairs, he checked the living room and dining room, then tiredly made his way back upstairs.

  As Byrd reached the top and turned for his bedroom, the person crouched down behind the living room door sighed and smiled to himself. He'd wait until Byrd fell back to sleep before he made his move.

  16

  Wednesday Morning

  Darlington

  Tanzy was late out of the house and told Byrd he’d meet him at B&Q just after eight. He hadn’t slept well, especially being woken at half two when Byrd had told him someone was in his house. A few minutes later, he’d received a text message saying there was nothing to worry about and went back to sleep.

  Tanzy stepped out of his Golf and closed the door. He paused to look at his purchase. It was similar to his last but had all the mod cons, and the colour was a darker shade of grey. Pip was envious but to compensate, she drove his Mercedes CLS 350 when he was at work. Other than taking the kids to and from school, she didn’t use it much, so Tanzy wasn’t too concerned about her racking the mileage up.

  Walking across the car park, he was surprised how full it was, wondering if people actually had jobs to go to. He spotted Byrd’s X5 near the entrance in one of the ‘load and go’ bays.

  The sun was up and about, shining down brightly, a mirage of reflections from angled car windscreens and polished roofs. It had been warm over the past few weeks and according to the weather reports, would only get warmer. It would be a record for May, the experts predicted.

  As he approached the black X5, he made eye contact with Byrd through the driver’s wing mirror, who opened his door and dropped down, wearing black trousers and a very thin dark blue jacket. His hair had been gelled and his moisturised skin shimmered in the morning light, although noticeable dark semi-circles sat just under his eyes.

  ‘Morning, Max.’

  ‘Morning, mate,’ Byrd replied.

  ‘You look shattered.’ Tanzy stopped in front of him.

  ‘I am. I kept hearing things all night. Didn’t sleep well at all.’

  ‘Thanks for waking me at half two.’

  They shared a smile.

  ‘Don’t know what’s wrong with me. I went back up then heard something again, but knew I’d already checked the house. Strange thing is, is when I went back upstairs, I checked the door and it was open. I’d forgot to lock it.’

  ‘You know what that is, don’t ya?’

  Byrd waited, frowning.

  ‘Old age,’ Tanzy said, winking.

  Byrd playfully jabbed his arm, and they turned and headed for the entrance. At the reception desk, a small woman, probably in her fifties, with blonde hair and a wide smile showing coffee-stained teeth asked them how she could help.

  Byrd took charge. ‘Can we speak to the manager, please?’

  ‘Sure. Can I ask what it’s regarding? Maybe I can help.’

  ‘It’s about one of your employees. Danny Walters.’

  Her smile faded quickly. ‘Oh. Okay, I’ll call him.’ She picked up the phone to her right and told the person on the other end that the police were here to speak to him about Danny. She placed the phone back on the receiver and told them he’d be a few minutes.

  Byrd and Tanzy smiled and stepped back, spending their waiting time looking at the deals strategically placed on the low level stands near the entrance door. It wasn’t long before a short guy in his late twenties appeared with a practised false smile.

  Byrd extended his hand and shook it firmly. ‘Can you spare a few minutes to speak about one of your employees Danny Walters?’

  The man nodded several times. ‘Of course, anything we can do to help.’

  From his response it was obvious he was aware of what had happened to Danny. He led them from one end of the shop to the other and went through a door near the trade entrance and climbed some steps, took a left, then, a few metres down a narrow corridor, opened a door to an empty room. There were a couple of chairs and a table, but other than the clock on the wall, it was empty. Most likely used for one-to-one meetings.

  He introduced himself as Peter Gilbert, then sat down, waiting for the detectives to speak first.

  ‘So, I’m sure you’re aware,’ Tanzy started, taking the only seat on that side, ‘that Danny and his family tragically died in a house fire?’

  Peter nodded. ‘Yes, I watched it on the news. We are devastated. He was a lovely man. Been here longer than I have.’

  ‘How long is that?’

  Peter explained he’d been the manager for almost four years, and Danny had been there at least ten years before that. ‘He worked in the plumbing aisle. Did his time as a plumber but work had dried up and he got a temporary job in here until it picked back up but didn’t leave. Said he enjoyed it and liked the people.’

  Byrd, standing beside Tanzy, nodded. ‘Can you tell us if he’d ever mentioned any problems he’d had outside of work? I’m sure you know we are investigating this fire as an act of intent.’

  Peter thought for a moment. ‘I can’t say he ever did. We talked most days that he was here. He was an upbeat guy. Everyone liked him.’

  ‘What was he into, any interests?’

  ‘He said he liked his online games, used to play a lot with his friends. I don’t see the fascination, but I know many people his age do. It isn’t unusual. Have you found anything that can help in finding who did this to him?’

  The detectives waited before answering. Then Tanzy said, ‘We have a few leads we are chasing. Do you know anyone here who were friendly with him?’

  ‘I’d say just about everyone. As I said, everyone liked him.’ Peter shrugged, indicating he could offer no more on the matter.

  Byrd and Tanzy both stood and in turn, shook his hand, asking him if he can think of anything else, to ring the number on the card that Tanzy handed to him. He told him he would, then led them back out on to the shop floor. Moments later, they were outside. It was still hot with not a cloud in the sky.

  Byrd didn’t say much on the way back to the car and it didn’t go unnoticed.

  ‘You okay?’ asked Tanzy, looking his way.

  Byrd held his gaze. ‘Yeah. Why?’

  ‘Just don’t seem yourself.’

  When he stopped at the car, he turned to Tanzy. ‘I’m just nervous about the baby, I think. It upsets me that… ahh it sounds soft. I—’

  ‘You don’t need to be all macho for me, Max. What is it?’

  ‘My mum and dad won’t get to see him. It upsets me the way the world is, that I’m bringing a baby boy into this mess.’

  Tanzy placed a palm on his shoulder. ‘The world is the way it is. It will never change. I’m telling you that having kids is the best thing you’ll ever do. If you’re worrying it will be hard, it will be, but it’s amazing.’

  Byrd nodded, appreciating his words of encouragement. ‘Let’s head back to the station, see what mood Fuller is in this morning.’

  When Byrd got into
his car, his phone rang in his pocket. He leaned to the side, pulled it out, noticing Claire was ringing him. It was unusual because she’d always text when he was at work unless something was wrong.

  ‘Claire?’

  ‘Max, did you go out the back door this morning?’

  Byrd thought quickly, realising he didn’t.

  ‘No. I got a quick shower, grabbed a bite, and went straight out the door. Why?’

  ‘Because my laptop isn’t here. And the back door isn’t locked. I think someone’s been in the house.’

  17

  Wednesday Afternoon

  Police Station

  Once they’d spoken with Hope and Tallow, Byrd and Tanzy had learned all the evidence had been collected from the house fire at Napier Street. After DNA had been taken from the four of them, matching with their identities, their bodies had been sent to the undertakers. The need for detailed post-mortems was unnecessary considering the nature of their deaths.

  Peter Gibbs, the lead coroner for Darlington and Durham, had been on the phone, going through what had happened. It wasn’t very often these house fires happened, and even less so, to take a family of four, so he went to the house to have a look himself.

  Hope had told Byrd that, after analysing the samples taken from the house, due to the fire, there wasn’t any other DNA found, which surprised Byrd as Roger Carlton had been there several times. Byrd had asked about prints on door handles, knowing he’d opened and closed the back door several times when cleaning the carpets on Sunday. But, looking back at the camera footage, the man had covered his tracks, wearing gloves to minimise his trace.

  They did find something.

  A footprint.

  Located at the back door near the mat, they cross-referenced the pattern and found it didn’t match up with any of the family’s footwear. She told Byrd she would find out the type of the trainer and get back to him once she knew.

  DCI Fuller popped his head through his office door, telling both Byrd and Tanzy he wanted a word with them. They stood up, went inside, and sat down in the two empty chairs.

  ‘Updates please, gents?’ he asked, wasting no time.

  They filled him in on the footprint that had been found and said they are waiting on forensics to find the model.

  ‘Keep me updated with that. What else?’

  ‘That’s it for now, sir,’ replied Byrd, itching his chin.

  ‘Where are we on the missing women?’ pressed Fuller, clearly agitated.

  Four days ago, on Saturday night, four women had left The Grange bar and had got into a taxi. It was the last time anyone had seen them. A string of queries had come in a day later from worried family and friends, saying they hadn’t seen them. The police had managed to come up with a list.

  Theresa Jackson. Lisa Felon. Sarah Mckay. Lorraine Eckles.

  Byrd and Tanzy had spoken to the husband of Sarah Mckay, who said Sarah had texted him saying she was leaving The Grange but was heading to Lisa’s house afterward for a few drinks. When he woke the following morning she wasn’t there, so tried ringing her but her phone was off.

  Byrd had got in touch with the manager at The Grange, who checked the CCTV, and had seen four women matching their descriptions leaving the bar just after two in the morning. With that information, Tanzy had spoken to Jennifer Lucas at the Town Hall control room who had followed them on the nearest camera, watching them climb into a taxi near Joe’s Bar. A red Skoda Octavia. Registration plate SN66 4LL. They found out the taxi was registered to 1AB, so Byrd had been to their office and spoken to the young, tattoo-covered, blonde-haired female sitting with the headset on who told him the name of the driver and his address. Byrd and Tanzy had knocked on his door the following day and he told them he remembered picking them up but had dropped them off in a lay by just past Morton Park. Apparently, from listening to their conversation, the driver assumed someone else was picking them up. The driver told them he was sorry he couldn’t offer any further help and said he’d driven straight back into town looking for more fares before the bars closed for the night.

  ‘No one has seen them, sir,’ Tanzy said. ‘We have obtained their pictures and as you know, the media have shown the public but nothing yet. We have updated our Facebook page and Twitter feed with it multiple times. We are receiving messages about how sad the situation is but there’s nothing to go on.

  Fuller sighed heavily and sat silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘Have we found our Roger Carlton yet?’

  ‘According to our data, the closest Roger Carlton lives in Leeds.’

  ‘Facial Rec?’

  Byrd shook his head. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘He may be wearing a wig and a fake moustache,’ added Tanzy.

  Fuller forced a smile, dipped his shoulders into the back of his chair. ‘Do the public know about Roger Carlton yet?’

  They both nodded, and Tanzy elaborated. ‘His picture and name are on the news. We’re waiting for anyone to come forward with any information.’

  ‘Okay. Well, that’s—’

  The door behind the detectives opened. They both turned.

  DC Leonard was standing at the door. ‘Sir, someone thinks they know who Roger Carlton is.’ It was aimed at Tanzy, more so than Byrd or Fuller.

  ‘They still on the phone?’

  ‘She’s waiting in reception, boss.’

  18

  Wednesday Afternoon

  Police Station

  Within a minute, Byrd and Tanzy entered the small reception at the front of the building, where a woman, in her early thirties, dressed in a black pencil skirt, a white blouse, a black blazer, and high heels, stood before them. If she told them she was a lawyer, they wouldn’t have second-guessed it. Her straight dark hair sat nicely on her shoulders, either side of an attractive, stern-looking face. Maybe a lawyer after all.

  Byrd stepped forward and extended his hand. ‘Hi, I’m DI Max Byrd.’ He turned and used his hand to indicate Tanzy, who stepped forward. ‘And this is my partner, DI Orion Tanzy.’

  After she shook Byrd’s hand, she repeated the process with Tanzy and told them her name was Samantha Verity.

  ‘We have been aware that you may know Roger Carlton?’ Byrd asked.

  She nodded several times. ‘Is there a place where we can talk?’ Whatever she wanted to say, she wasn’t comfortable saying it there, knowing it would take a while to explain herself.

  The detectives led her through a door, down a corridor, and into a room on the right. It was a box room, with a table in the centre of it, two chairs on either side. There was no window and didn’t feel very welcoming.

  ‘Please, take a seat,’ Tanzy told her, motioning either seat with his hand.

  As Samantha sat, Byrd, who was still standing, asked, ‘Can I get you a coffee?’

  ‘Yes, please. Milk. No sugar,’ she replied, followed with a smile.

  Byrd nodded, left the room.

  She settled herself in and looked a little nervous. Tanzy waited until Byrd’s return so made small talk about the weather, and the recent building development near the new cinema. Byrd soon returned with three coffees and placed them all down on the table.

  ‘So, what can you tell us, Samantha?’ Byrd said, not wasting any time, knowing Tanzy would’ve waited.

  She blinked a few times. ‘I heard about the fire in Napier Street, about how the family all died. I saw it on the news actually. Then the still shot of the man in the backyard. Roger Carlton. The name Roger Carlton doesn’t exist. At least not that I know of.’

  The detectives frowned, unsure where she was going with it.

  She noticed their confusion. ‘Sorry, I’m not explaining myself well. Many years ago, I went out with a guy. He was obsessed with this American show.’ She rocked her head back and looked at the ceiling. ‘God, I can’t remember the name. There was a character in it called Roger Carlton. The guy I used to date loved it. He always watched it. He always said if he could change his name it would be Roger Carlton. From the photo on the
news, he was wearing a wig and a fake tache. The character in the American show did the same.’

  ‘What’s he called? Your previous boyfriend.’

  ‘Mackenzie Dilton,’ she replied clearly.

  ‘Does Mackenzie Dilton have an address? We’d very much like to speak to him urgently.’

  ‘He used to live on Victoria Embankment when I knew him. I fell pregnant with his baby but we lost it when I was six months along.’

  Byrd gave her a sad smile, uncertain if she regarded it as a good thing or a bad thing.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, it was for the best. I can promise you that.’

  Her words insinuated she had more to tell.

  ‘I’d been seeing him for a couple of years. Things were okay. We’d spoken about marriage and having a family but then he got weird.’

  ‘Weird how?’

  ‘He started spending a lot of time on his computer. He didn’t want to go out and have fun anymore. He completely shut me off. All he cared about was his stupid computer.’

  ‘What did Mr Dilton do for work?’ inquired Tanzy.

  ‘He worked for an IT firm, based somewhere in Newcastle. He’s got a degree in some IT thing, I’m not sure the name. Programming or something.’ She waved her hand, expressing little understanding or interest.

  Byrd and Tanzy absorbed her words.

  ‘I’m not sure if it was because we lost the baby, but we lost interest in each other and finally called it a day. It wasn’t that he was a nasty man, it’s just… he didn’t prioritise his things well. And his obsession with his computer, well, that got too much for me.’

  ‘What did he do on his computer?’ Tanzy asked, curiously.

  ‘Games, I think. But then sometimes, I think he did things he shouldn’t have been doing.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘A few times, I walked in without knocking or without him knowing I was there, and he went ballistic, telling me to eff off and that it was his time. I’m not entirely sure, but he became obsessed with it. A few months before we split up, there was this look in his eye. A dark look. As if there was another side of him that he hadn’t shown me yet.’