Finally, he nodded, happy about his decision.
He went back into the hallway, and picked Jane up, using her armpits to drag her flaccid body across the living room. He lowered her for a moment to readjust his stance and picked her up again, this time higher, toward the height of the railing.
‘Jane?’ he whispered.
No response. She was still unconscious.
He smiled, then very carefully, lifted her onto the balcony railing, placing one of her arms over the outside of it, then did the same with her right leg, so the top of the balcony rail was against her chest, stomach, and in between her legs. Her head was tipped to the left towards the flat, so, to balance her weight, he shuffled her centre of gravity to the outside of the railing.
Once he was sure she was balanced, he took a step back.
Her left arm and left leg were hanging inboard, and her right arm and leg hanging over the edge, four floors up.
‘When you wake up, Jane, don’t panic,’ he whispered. ‘Or you might just fall.’ He went inside, grabbed her phone from her small bag and placed it on the floor of the balcony. Pressing the button, he saw it had plenty of battery remaining.
He went back inside, locked the French doors and on his way out of the flat, he turned off the light and shut the front door. He took the stairs all the way to the bottom and stepped outside at the ground level at 3.34 a.m.. Jane was still balanced on the railing. Deciding his work was done, he smiled.
At 6.01 a.m., DI Byrd’s phone rang. His eyes flickered a few times until he realised what it was. He sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes from the morning sun that had crept around the edge of the half-closed curtains.
It was DC Phillip Cornty.
‘What the hell does he want?’ he muttered.
He accepted the call. ‘Phil, do you know what’—
‘Boss. You need to come. We have a very delicate situation on our hands.’
26
Saturday Early Morning
Darlington
Byrd pulled up in his X5 at the address which Cornty had given him, red-eyed and tired. He hadn’t slept well; kept hearing noises downstairs at home and, on several occasions, had investigated to find a quiet, house with no intruders lurking in the shadows. The whereabouts of Claire’s laptop were still unknown, and she’d claimed on her insurance that it had been stolen. He checked all the doors and windows before he left, happy Claire was safe inside, asleep upstairs, nestling their baby boy who, in three months, would be here. Whoever had entered his home the other night, if that’s what it was, wouldn’t be getting in again. He’d managed to fix the cameras which he could access remotely on his phone, informing him of anyone approaching which gave both of them peace of mind.
Trinity Road was a quiet road. There were cars scattered along the street on either side, their windows reflecting the bright morning sun. As he unclipped his seat belt, a car pulling into the road up ahead caught his eye. A Golf. Tanzy’s Golf. He watched Tanzy angle over and stop just in front of him. They made eye contact and nodded, then stepped out. Byrd, although it was a Saturday, dressed in his usual smart trousers and shoes, but instead of a shirt, he’d put on a black t-shirt and worn a thin black jacket over the top. His hair had been dampened and brushed to the side.
‘You going to a funeral?’ Tanzy said.
Byrd cracked half a smile at his mistimed joke. ‘Let’s hope not.’
Tanzy was more casual, wearing trainers, blue jeans, and an open thin, dark blue jacket, showing a tight white t-shirt. He wouldn’t look out of place in a fashion magazine, with his trimmed goatee, piercing blue eyes, and tanned bald head.
They both moved toward the entrance of the flats that Cornty had described, looking up, trying to see what had been explained to them, struggling in the low sun that dominated the morning sky.
When they arrived at the pillars that were either side of the entrance, they noticed a cluster of people standing in the middle of the car park, in front of the building’s front door, glaring up with concern on their faces. Some of them on the phone, some of them silently staring up into the sky at the woman balanced on the handrail.
Tanzy and Byrd stopped at the small crowd and looked up, using a palm to shield their eyes from the sun.
‘Jesus,’ Byrd whispered.
To the right, DC Cornty heard the detectives approach and looked their way.
‘Morning,’ he said. ‘We got a call from a runner who spotted her from Cleveland Terrace just over half an hour ago. Just hanging like that.’
Byrd and Tanzy craned their necks to look up.
‘Is – is she dead?’ Byrd asked, squinting in the morning glare.
‘We don’t know. When dispatch received the call, the woman explained what she could see and cleverly advised the operator not to approach with sirens in case the loud sounds woke her up.’
Byrd nodded. It made perfect sense.
Tanzy looked around at the people. ‘Where are these people from?’
‘The guy in the suit lives on the third floor. Was on his way out when he saw the runner standing in front of him, looking up with a worried look on her face. He said he doesn’t know her but has seen her around, coming and going.’
Near the short chubby guy in the suit, there was an old lady, dressed in running gear but was holding a small dog on a lead, who seemed to be itching to finish his run, doing small energetic circles around her feet.
There was another couple, in their fifties, probably on a morning walk, and just beyond them, a bald guy dressed in shorts and a hoody.
‘We need to get something set up,’ Tanzy said to Cornty. ‘If she is alive and wakes up, we need to make sure if she falls she lands on something soft. Or at least clear these people so they don’t get hurt. Has the fire department been notified?’
Cornty shook his head.
‘Get on it,’ Tanzy instructed, disappointed with him. Cornty nodded, pulled his phone out, and stepped back a few paces.
‘What on earth is she doing up there?’ Byrd said. ‘Is she drunk? Had she tried to jump and fell asleep? Is she dead already?’
Tanzy shrugged. ‘We need a negotiator down here. If that’s what her intentions are.’ He looked over to Cornty, who had made the phone call to the fire brigade. ‘We need the fire lads out, get an extended ladder up there. If we can’t get through that door, that’ll be the only way, Max.’
Byrd agreed. Tanzy then went over to the man in the suit from the third floor. He was holding a black briefcase and looked like the banker or lawyer type. ‘What floor is she on, the fourth?
The man, who Tanzy guessed was in his fifties judging by his hairline, turned. ‘Yeah, the fourth. I’m on the third.’
‘Can you let us in the building? We need access to her flat.’
‘Sure.’
Tanzy turned his attention to Cornty, who’d finished on the phone. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Back up is coming now. I’ve told them to approach quietly.’
‘Okay, we need to move these people back. If she falls now, she'll land on them.’
DC Cornty moved forward, and one by one, asked the people to move back. Everyone complied. To the left, they heard a murmur of voices, five people passing the pillars at the edge of the property with one thing in mind: to get a closer look at the woman balanced on the balcony. Tanzy immediately made his way over to them with his palms out. ‘Please, I need you to leave. This is a very delicate situation. The fewer people the better.’
One of them, a man dressed smartly in chinos and a tight-fitting black jumper, said, ‘What’s going on here?’
‘What’s going on is that we have a delicate situation. And I’m asking you, as a police officer, for you to please leave and let us deal with it.’
They all stopped before him. ‘What about them?’ a woman said, pointing to the handful of people in the car park watching. ‘Why can they watch?’
‘They live in this apartment block. So please,’ he said, his tone now firmer, ‘leave
. Let the police handle this.’
They pulled a face, reluctantly turned, and left the property, stopping on the path outside to watch from there which Tanzy knew he couldn’t do anything about. The more people here, the more chance of waking or disturbing her. He went back over to Byrd who slipped his phone into his pocket.
‘Negotiator is on his way,’ Byrd informed him.
Tanzy nodded. ‘The guy in the suit will let us in.’
‘Cornty can control people down here. If we can get in her apartment and open that door, we could pull her back before she wakes.’ Byrd and Tanzy went over to the short guy in the suit. ‘Can you let us in now, please?’
The man nodded, pulled his keys from his pocket, and shuffled over to the front door of the building. Once he let them in, he went to the lift and pressed the button. Within seconds, the doors pinged open and the suit, Byrd, and Tanzy stepped inside. After the button for floor four was pressed, the doors closed, and the lift started to rise.
They stepped out but the man stopped to think and decided to go to the door on his right. ‘Judging by her window, this should be the door.’
‘Do you know her name?’ Byrd asked him.
He squinted. ‘Could be Lorraine. Or Jane. I’m not one hundred percent certain.’
Tanzy took out his phone and phoned the station, telling them to check the occupant of an address and to update them on their intentions of getting inside her apartment.
‘Yeah, I’m sure it’s this one.’ The suited guy moved back, allowing Byrd and Tanzy to stop at the door.
Byrd tried pushing the door, then tried the handle. It was locked but worth a try. He checked Tanzy wasn’t directly behind him, took a few spaces back, then lunged forward with his right foot into the left side of the door against the lock and handle mechanism. The door shook with a loud bang but it stood firm. He tried again and failed.
A door to their right opened. Out stepped an elderly man. ‘What on earth is going on?’ He wore a long, blue dressing gown and thick-framed glasses sat on the end of a thick nose. It seemed they’d interrupted his newspaper reading, judging by the folded Northern Echo in his hand.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Tanzy said. ‘Don’t worry, we are the police. We need to get inside. The woman is in danger.’
‘What’s wrong with Jane?’
‘She’s on her balcony. We need to get inside to help her.’
He eyed them suspiciously for a moment. Although he recognised the suited man as someone who lived on the floor below, he asked, ‘Can I see some ID? You don’t dress like you’re with the police.’
The guy had a point. Tanzy looked like he’d do well on a catwalk and Byrd looked like he’d been to his gran’s funeral. Tanzy pulled his ID from his pocket to show him. Once satisfied, the elderly man said, ‘Don’t kick that door again. You might break it.’
‘But we need’—
‘I have a spare key,’ he said, stopping Tanzy short.
‘Thank you.’
The guy went inside. It felt like three hours had passed before he came back and handed Tanzy the key. It was a single key linked to a keyring with a photo of Benidorm’s seafront.
‘What’s her full name?’
‘Jane Ericson.’
Byrd pulled two pairs of latex gloves from his pocket and handed a pair to Tanzy. They both pulled them on and used the key to open the door. Byrd went in first, followed by Tanzy, then the guy in the suit. Tanzy turned, advised the suit guy to stay back to give them room to work and think.
Immediately to the left they spotted the French doors and saw Jane positioned on the balcony. From inside her flat, they could see how perfectly balanced her weight must have been, and it wouldn’t take much for her to become unbalanced.
Byrd tried to slide the door open but it wouldn’t budge.
‘The lock,’ Tanzy said, pointing to the mechanism near the handle. Byrd, for a moment, felt stupid, then flicked the lock down, and very slowly slid the door open. Just as he did, a loud ringtone rang out, coming from a phone positioned on the floor of the balcony.
It was so loud, it stirred Jane, who opened her eyes suddenly, staring wide eyed at the phone.
Byrd froze, watching her, listening to the ringtone. He didn’t want to speak or disturb her or call her name, knowing it could cause an unfortunate sudden movement that could literally tip her over. But she panicked, realising she was on her balcony handrail.
Then it happened so fast.
Byrd lunged forward to grab her left hand but missed.
And she fell four floors down to the concrete below with a sickening thud, the awful sound followed by a string of screams and panic from the people on the ground.
27
Saturday Morning
Police Station
‘You missed her?’ DCI Fuller asked Byrd after hearing what had happened.
Sadly, Byrd nodded. ‘It happened too fast. I missed her by inches.’
Fuller leaned back, sighed heavily, and looked up at the ceiling. Byrd and Tanzy didn’t say anything. Fuller wasn’t intending to come in today, but after Byrd had phoned him less than an hour ago, informing him about Jane Ericson, he had no choice. He didn’t look amused about it either, not that it was Byrd or Tanzy’s fault.
The sunlight coming in from the window that overlooked St. Cuthbert’s Way to the left had warmed the office for most of the morning. Fuller looked hot and bothered in his coat, but for some reason, he hadn’t taken it off. A simple phone call and an emailed report would have done. He’d promised his missus and kids they were going to the beach and weren’t pleased to hear he’d have to go down to the station to be personally updated about another death in Darlington.
‘We don’t need this shit.’ Fuller’s tone was grim, straight to the point. It was his usual tone, so it came as no surprise to Tanzy or Byrd. ‘So, as well as a house fire that killed a family of four, and four missing women who haven’t been seen in nearly a week, we now have this?’
Byrd and Tanzy didn’t reply, knowing it was a rhetorical question.
‘And nothing in the way of leads?’
Again, the detectives stayed silent.
‘Please talk me through this again,’ Fuller said, seeming like he had other things on his mind. ‘You managed to get into the flat using the key from her neighbour, then saw her on the balcony. Then as you opened the door, the phone rang on the balcony and woke her up?’
Byrd nodded, confirming his analysis so far.
‘But she panicked, realising she was balanced on the handrail and went over?’
‘Yeah.’
Fuller thought for a moment. ‘Who phoned her?’
‘This is one of the reasons why I phoned you,’ said Byrd. ‘I needed to tell you personally.’
‘Go on…’
‘The number in her phone was saved as Roger Carlton.’
‘The same name linked to the house fire, who we suspect could be Mackenzie Dilton?’
Tanzy and Byrd both nodded in unison.
‘Sonofabitch…’ Fuller dipped his head, looking down at the desk. ‘We need to find this fucking Mackenzie Dilton. He’s playing games with us. Do we know how she got up there?’
‘Not yet. There are several possible scenarios,’ said Byrd, who’d discussed this with Tanzy earlier at the scene after she’d fallen. Fuller waited for it. ‘We’ll be able to determine if she had consumed alcohol after the tox report, meaning she could have been out in the town, came home, and for whatever reason, collapsed in that position.’
Fuller made a face.
‘I know. It doesn’t seem likely,’ admitted Byrd. ‘Or… she was taken home, knocked unconscious, and carefully positioned there for her life to be determined whether she woke and leaned to the left or the right.’
‘Where is Jane now?’
Byrd informed Fuller she had been taken to the hospital for the pathologists to have a look at her. It was obvious, judging by the nature of what happened and the state of the body, the fall ha
d caused her death. But they needed to check to see what happened before then. Had she been drugged? Excessive levels of alcohol?
‘Did the building have cameras?’ asked Fuller.
Byrd nodded. ‘We spotted a camera in the lift and in the entrance door. DC Cornty is speaking with the maintenance team to see the footage from last night and early this morning.’
‘Why did the phone ring when it did?’ asked Fuller. ‘Seems a coincidence it was when you almost reached her?’
Tanzy nodded several times as if something had clicked. ‘It’s as if whoever did it, was watching, waiting for that exact moment, knowing that ringing her would wake her.’
‘Are forensics there?’
‘Yes. Forensics are checking the apartment for any prints. Tallow and Hope said they’d be in touch later. Tallow wasn’t happy he had to come in.’
‘Nature of the beast, unfortunately.’ Fuller shrugged, implying he wasn’t pleased to be here, either. ‘Good work, you two. See what the cameras tell us and see what Tallow and Hope find.’ He then noticed something on Tanzy’s face. ‘What is it, Orion?’
Tanzy turned to Byrd. ‘Remember the people watching below, the people near us?’
Byrd bobbed his head.
‘The bald guy in the shorts and hoody, remember him?’
Byrd said he did. Byrd rarely missed anything.
‘Didn’t Samantha Verity, from seeing the clip from the still shot on the camera at Napier Street, say she was certain that Roger Carlton was Mackenzie Dilton, and she was one hundred percent sure he was wearing a wig and a fake moustache?’
Byrd nodded. It finally clicked. ‘Same height, same features…’
‘I knew when I saw his face, there was something familiar about him. I’d spoken to him on the morning of the house fire. When I saw him this morning, he recognised me. But he didn’t have dark, brown eyes. He had bright blue eyes. And a thin goatee.’ Tanzy fell silent for a second. ‘They were contact lenses. He was in disguise. Mackenzie Dilton was there, standing with us, watching Jane.’
‘He knew exactly when to make the call,’ Byrd said. ‘As soon as he saw me at the French doors from below, he phoned her, knowing the call would wake her and there’d be a good chance she’d panic and would fall.’
No One's Safe: DI Max Byrd & DI Orion Tanzy book 3 Page 9