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

by C. J. Grayson

  Behind them, black writing covered most of the wall.

  ‘What does that say?’ Tanzy said, pointing from over Leonard’s shoulder.

  Leonard, knowing what he meant, double-clicked the screen to enlarge it, but the writing was too small and blurry.

  ‘I can’t see it properly,’ replied Leonard, squinting.

  ‘No way of zooming in?’ DC Cornty suggested.

  ‘Someone get Mac,’ Tanzy said to anyone.

  ‘Sir,’ Weaver replied, then dashed down the corridor towards Digital Forensics.

  ‘Print screen it and save it,’ Tanzy told Leonard. ‘Hopefully, we can enhance the shot to see the words better.’

  Leonard nodded and saved the still shot.

  ‘Watch it again,’ Tanzy said.

  It was clear the video had been edited. The time in the bottom right corner of the screen kept changing, progressing forward as the video did. The whole video should have been nearly three hours long but had been compressed to thirteen minutes. It showed the couple, if that’s what they were, waking up, the woman before the man. She was on the left. When she woke, it wasn’t long before she started panicking and screaming.

  ‘What’s with the tubes in her arms. Where do they go?’ Cornty said, seeing the two small, clear tubes going towards and off the bottom of the screen.

  ‘I have no idea,’ Stockdale said. ‘Are they going to her arms?’

  ‘Like a catheter?’ added Tanzy, nodding.

  ‘Could be, yeah,’ Stockdale replied.

  It was moments later when Weaver returned to the office with Mac, who, judging by the crumbs on his t-shirt, had been eating crisps. Tanzy asked him to sit and watch the video.

  ‘Jesus, what’s this – is this him again?’ Mac asked, noticing the name of the uploader being RCarl20.

  Tanzy came from Mac’s right and pointed to the screen. ‘Can you see what’s on the wall behind them? It looks like writing but we can’t make it out.’

  Mac leaned closer to the screen, trying to make out the black writing.

  ‘Is there a way you can enlarge it?’ asked Tanzy.

  Mac used the mouse to copy and paste the address and fired an email over to himself. He told Tanzy he’d get straight on it and get back to him when he knew what the words said.

  The woman on the screen woke up a little startled, sighing and getting her breath back. It took a few seconds for her to recognise the man – and the situation – in front of her. It wasn’t long before a mechanical sound was heard.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ DC Leonard asked, furrowing his brows up at Tanzy, then to Cornty.

  ‘Doesn’t sound good, whatever it is,’ replied Cornty, peering down over his glasses, with folded arms.

  They watched on.

  Linda Fallows appeared in the walkway. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Your man is at it again,’ Tanzy said, pointing to the screen.

  She stopped next to Tanzy and focused on the screen.

  It wasn’t long before they learned the man’s name was Aaron and she was called Rachel. Aaron kept telling her not to push the button, and it wasn’t long before the detectives noticed something in her right hand, the hand nearest to the camera.

  ‘Is that some kind of remote?’ Tanzy wondered out loud.

  Aaron then screamed, jerking his body back and forth, as much as the rope holding him allowed. The sound of the pump continued while she pressed the button.

  ‘Whatever is happening, isn’t good. He’s in pain,’ noted Tanzy.

  ‘Is she doing this to him?’ Leonard asked.

  Tanzy wasn’t sure so stayed silent.

  ‘Does Max know about this yet?’ Cornty asked.

  Tanzy shook his head. ‘He’ll be back soon. He had to pop out for a little while.’

  Footsteps were heard behind him. It was Mac, carrying a piece of paper in his hand. ‘Hey…’ They all turned. ‘I took still shots and zoomed in,’ Mac informed them, handing the paper to Tanzy, who took it to read.

  ‘Those tubes are pumping water in their veins…’ Tanzy told them after digesting what it said.

  ‘Water?’ Leonard frowned. ‘Why water?’

  ‘Here, read this…’ Tanzy handed the paper to him.

  A moment later, Byrd turned up, wondering why they were all standing by Leonard’s desk, watching something on the screen.

  ‘What’s the big commotion?’ Byrd said, stopping behind them.

  Tanzy turned to him. ‘Max, there’s another one…’

  Byrd sighed and placed both hands on his head.

  ‘Not only that,’ PC Eric Timms said from across the office as he dashed over. Byrd and Tanzy looked at him, eager to hear what he had to say. ‘There’s someone on the phone. She says she knows the woman on the video. She’s Rachel Hammond, aged twenty-seven.’

  ‘Does this person know Rachel’s address?’

  ‘Yeah. She does.’ Timms handed over the slip of paper. ‘Here.’

  Byrd glanced down. ‘Looks like we’re heading out. Come on.’

  57

  Friday Late Afternoon

  Elton Road

  Byrd took Tanzy and Fallows in his X5 and Cornty went with Leonard in his Vauxhall Insignia. Stockdale said he’d travel alone and would meet them there.

  The differences that Leonard and Cornty had seemed to be a thing of the past. What Leonard hadn’t told him, is that he and Amy Weaver had been seeing each other outside of work. He hadn’t mentioned it because Cornty and Weaver used to be a thing, but she’d broken it off a little while back, although it was obvious Cornty still liked her. Who could blame him? She was gorgeous. Her blonde hair was always pristine. Her blue eyes were the focus of her very attractive face, and that figure turned the heads of all men, even men who liked men. If Leonard was being honest, he was proverbially punching above his weight. Things weren’t serious between them yet, but Leonard couldn’t deny he was starting to fall for her. Time would tell.

  Byrd turned into Elton Road, drove a hundred metres then slowed, looking at the house numbers. When he approached the number, he pulled over on the right, stopping at the semi-detached property with a brown-painted door.

  The street, as usual, was quiet.

  Byrd stepped out onto the grass verge while Tanzy opened the passenger door and stepped down onto the road. Fallows climbed out too, trailing them. They’d been discussing, on their way over, how they needed to stop Mackenzie Dilton. Fallows had weighed in, expressing her concern that now they had experienced water, it would only be a matter of time before he used earth to kill someone.

  The house looked well-kept but carried a unique character in comparison to others in the street. The low wall at the front of the boundary that protected a modest neatly trimmed square of grass complemented the style of the bay windows, which were probably installed fifteen years ago but looked brand new.

  They stepped onto the driveway, where a yellow Renault Clio, less than two years old, looked polished and new, glistening in the late afternoon sunlight. As they angled right towards the brown door, Tanzy stepped up first.

  Behind them on the road they heard a vehicle pull up. It was Leonard and Cornty, who seconds later, got out, and eagerly walked up the driveway.

  Tanzy knocked but after fifteen seconds of getting no answer, he tried the handle. The door opened. In his hand was the baton he’d grabbed from Byrd’s glovebox.

  ‘Hello?’ he shouted as he entered.

  Byrd, who was a few feet behind him, turned and directed Leonard and Cornty around the side towards the brown gate which spanned the width of the drive. He then told Fallows to wait at the door until he deemed it safe for entry – after all, she was his responsibility whilst she was here – and stepped inside.

  The hallway was wide. The walls were white but shades of green gave it a little colour.

  ‘Hello?’ shouted Tanzy, looking up the stairs, then down the hall, seeing into the kitchen. He moved forward with the baton in his right hand, ready to attack if
someone jumped out. By the time he’d got to the dining room, he lowered the weapon, noticing Rachel and Aaron in the chairs.

  ‘Jesus,’ said Byrd in the doorway, looking inside the dim room.

  They were still tied up. The tubes and catheters were still in place, fixed to equipment down on the floor. There was a large, plastic tank next to the table – a similar size to a water tank you’d find in the attic before Combi boilers had taken over – with what looked like a pump in front of it, being powered by an extension lead that ran to a socket in the alcove.

  The writing on the wall to their right was clearer and much bigger now. Byrd took a few steps in the room and skimmed over it to get a feel for what he was seeing. Tanzy passed him, going closer to the victims, and could feel the carpet underfoot was saturated with water.

  Linda Fallows, ignoring Byrd’s instruction, entered and gasped when she saw Aaron and Rachel sitting lifeless in the chairs.

  ‘The skin…’ Tanzy whispered.

  Fallows grew closer. The skin on the back of Aaron’s neck was white, almost translucent. ‘The water’s changed his skin,’ she said.

  Byrd finished reading and turned to see what Tanzy and Fallows were meaning. It was true. Their skin colour had changed, almost becoming see through and bloated. Byrd was about to comment on it when the mechanical pump whirred near the table.

  Tanzy raised the baton quickly, angling his body to the sudden sound.

  ‘Easy partner,’ mused Byrd, realising what it was.

  Through each openly visible orifice – their mouths, nose, ears – water seeped. It was like their bodies couldn’t absorb any more, like a sink overflowing. It was the strangest thing Tanzy had ever seen. ‘This is fucking weird.’

  Fallows didn’t like to swear but nodded in agreement, leaning down, taking a closer look at Aaron’s forearm.

  ‘We need Tallow and Hope here,’ said Byrd.

  Tanzy picked his phone from his pocket and rang Jacob Tallow, telling him the situation.

  ‘Jacob said he’s on his way with Emily,’ Tanzy told them, putting his phone away.

  ‘I’m going to have a look around,’ said Byrd, turning slowly, leaving the dining room.

  Tanzy, with his phone still in his hand, made a call to the undertakers too. After forensics were finished, the bodies would need to be taken to the hospital for further analysis by pathologists.

  Once Byrd had swept downstairs, he went upstairs. The house, apart from Tanzy and Fallows discussing the colour of the skin in the dining room, was eerie silent. Off the rectangular landing, a bathroom was on the right. Straight ahead, there was a bedroom with the door open. To the left there were two further bedrooms, one of the doors shut, the other ajar.

  He peeked into the empty bathroom, then headed straight into the bedroom with the open door. It was square. A single bed was against the left wall, a chest of cheap-looking drawers against the far wall, and a wardrobe was positioned to the right, next to the long, wide window.

  He stepped back onto the landing, made his way to the bedroom at the end, and opened the door, finding a much smaller room with a desk over to the right. On the closed laptop, there was a business card.

  He picked it up.

  Roger Carlton Hot Tubs.

  ‘Crafty bastard.’

  Byrd sighed heavily. He could have screamed but didn’t have the energy to. Roger Carlton - or Mackenzie Dilton as they know him to be – had used an excuse to get into someone’s home. A valid excuse alluring people to think he was a normal guy doing a normal job.

  A carpet cleaner.

  An electrician.

  A guy who rents out hot tubs.

  Under his name, there was a handwritten message saying, ‘Look at Laptop!’

  Byrd dropped the card on the desk, found his phone, then dialled Mac. He didn’t answer on the first ring but did on the second.

  ‘Mac, you remember the laptop from Jane Ericson’s apartment that you looked at?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘I need you to do it again, please. I’m currently at the house where we saw the couple on the video. There’s a card with handwriting on telling me to look at the laptop. I believe there could be something on it.’

  ‘Okay, Max. Would you be able to bag it up and drop it off at some point over the weekend?’

  ‘I’ll bag it up and drop it off very soon.’

  ‘How soon?’

  ‘As in I-want-to-catch-this-fucking-killer soon. Probably within the hour.’

  Mac sighed, as if he had plans, but said, ‘Okay…’

  Byrd wasn’t impressed with his attitude and hung up the phone. He picked up the card again and looked at the back. His eyes widened. This card was different from the others. There was a number on it with a handwritten message: Call me.

  Byrd typed the number into his phone, pressed CALL, and put it to his ear.

  ‘Hello, Detective…’ said the male voice.

  ‘Roger Carlton? Or should I say Mackenzie Dilton?’

  ‘Call me whatever you like.’

  ‘I’ll call you Mackenzie Dilton as that’s your real name.’

  ‘Suit yourself. How’s the investigation coming on, Detective?’

  ‘We’re very close…’

  ‘No, you’re not. You’re a million miles away. And let me tell you something…’

  ‘What’s that Mr Dilton?’

  ‘It’ll only get worse. Because I’m going to kill them all… one by one…’

  ‘Kill who?’

  ‘The ones who deserve it.’

  ‘Deserve what?’

  ‘I guess you’ll have to wait and find out.’

  Dilton hung up the phone and the line went dead.

  58

  Saturday Morning

  Darlington

  Brad opened the door of the computer room and carried the coffee holder containing the two cups over to the desk that Mitch was and placed a coffee down in front of him.

  ‘Cheers.’ Mitch picked it up and took a sip.

  Brad removed the holder from the base of his take-out cup, threw it at the bin over to the right but failed miserably, hitting the wall instead. He took a drink of his Salted caramel latte and closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Unbelievable.’

  He noticed something on Mitch’s face as he glared at the computer screen. ‘What is it?’

  ‘HammR33 wasn’t online last night.’

  ‘She didn’t play?’

  Mitch lowered his coffee and shook his head. ‘No, she didn’t.’

  ‘Well, that’s a waste of money, isn’t it?’

  ‘Spork11 and RCarl20 were there, though.’

  ‘How many were watching?’ Brad asked.

  Mitch grabbed the mouse, clicked a few tabs, and found the figure. ‘Just over a thousand. The most so far.’

  Brad felt tingling in his chest and his smile widening. ‘It’s all working out, isn’t it.’

  Mitch smiled, agreeing with him but didn’t look convincing. ‘Why have players not turned up? Last night, neither did HammR33. I don’t understand.’

  ‘As long as we get paid who’s bothered, Mitch,’ noted Brad, greedily rubbing his hands.

  Mitch gave a fair-enough shrug and looked at the screen on the right showing the room below. ‘I wonder how long it takes her to realise she’s alone?’

  ‘She probably already does.’

  ‘Where’s Lisa?’

  ‘She’s in the van,’ Brad replied, looking over. Their eyes met for a moment. ‘I’m not stupid, you know, Mitch. I’ll make sure the back door is locked this time.’

  Mitch looked away from him, rolling his eyes. He knew Brad wasn’t stupid, but he was a long way from Britain’s next top scientist. He looked at the list of players.

  Spork11.

  RCarl20.

  ‘We’ll open the table tonight. We’ll allow another three in to play.’

  ‘I think we should up the price too,’ said Brad. ‘It’s clearly popular with so many watchers waiting for their turn.�
��

  Mitch turned back to the computer and considered it. It was a good idea. If they could make more money, then why not. To the right of the screen in the bottom corner, another notification popped up.

  ‘They’re coming thick and fast,’ Mitch said, smiling.

  Brad rubbed his thick hands together again, this time quicker. ‘It’s making the rounds.’

  Each time someone clicked on www.attheend.com, a notification in the form of a small rectangular box came up in the bottom corner, with an IP Address, and underneath it, an option for either Brad or Mitch to press ‘Yes’ or ‘No’.

  He hovered the mouse over the box and decided to click ‘yes’ then smiled. It was another potential customer. He leaned back and sighed lightly, tilting his head into the leather of the high-backed chair.

  ‘What’s going to happen after Sarah is dead?’ Brad asked, watching the screen. Sarah was sitting against the far wall with her knees tucked under her chin, shivering a little.

  ‘We need more women. Preferably in their twenties. Nothing older.’

  ‘When by?’

  ‘This time next week,’ Mitch told him. ‘We’ll need another four. Doesn’t matter where from.’

  Brad looked over to him and nodded, understanding his role. He knew Mitch had set this up; he was the brains behind this idea and had arranged the computer side of things. Brad was just the muscle. He would collect – or maybe taking women against their will using whatever violence he deemed necessary was a better fit – and bring them here, ready for the show.

  They’d started so well.

  The first group had been successful.

  From the group of four, three of them were dead. They’d made thousands of pounds so far. For this to continue, they’d need to be clever and patient, not letting it go to their heads. Obviously, it was something they couldn’t do forever but for now, they’d cash in whatever they could get. The ones unfortunate to be involved was collateral damage that Mitch was willing to make.