by Jay Gill
Dave sighed resignedly. He knew that police cars have cameras and that he had very likely been filmed using his phone. The situation would only be made worse if he tried to contest the truth of the matter.
The officer examined his licence. “Please confirm your name.”
Dave picked at his fingernail. “David Alexander Howes.”
“And your permanent address?”
He gave Rebecca’s address. The last thing he wanted was the police contacting Emma.
He watched the officer fill in the space for his address. He looked at her fingernails. They looked well-manicured. His eyes moved to her hands, her uniform, her face and her hair. He leaned forward to look at her shoes.
New uniform and new shoes, thought Dave. Hair and fingernails like she’s come straight out of a salon.
Dave looked around the car at the dashboard and the dash cam. Something seemed wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something felt out of place.
The police officer looked at him, and he looked away. He looked back and said, “I know this is going sound silly, but can I see some identification, please?”
“I showed it to you.”
“I’d like to see it again. Please.” He sat up a little straighter.
The officer looked mildly amused. “Of course you can. You are entitled to see my identification. Better to be safe than sorry. One moment.”
Dave felt pleased with himself. He heard the rip of Velcro as the officer opened a jacket pocket. His eyes followed her as she first looked ahead and then turned in her seat to look behind.
He turned his head to see what she was looking for. The officer appeared to be looking to see whether any cars were approaching. Dave could see the road was empty.
“Here we go,” she said.
He put out his hand and took the warrant card. Studying the card, he didn’t notice the officer’s other hand as it suddenly pressed a taser into his chest. The taser’s 1,200 volts seared through his body.
Rigid from the shock, he was unable to prevent the hand holding a cloth covered in chloroform from covering his nose and mouth.
Lyle pulled the seatbelt across Dave’s body and fastened it. She took off her police hat, wig and jacket and dropped them in the footwell behind his seat. She got out of the Volvo and walked back to Dave’s car, where she hunted around for his mobile phone. She finally located it in the glovebox, tucked it in her pocket and returned to the unmarked police car.
Satisfied that Dave looked like a sleeping passenger, she pulled back onto the dual carriageway and made her way to the workshop.
Chapter Fifty
Emma was closing the front door behind her when the call came in. She dropped her shopping bag on the worktop and answered the phone. It was a woman’s voice, one she didn’t recognise.
“Is he with you? If he is with you, tell him he can go screw himself.”
Emma had a good idea who this was and who she was talking about. “Rebecca? If you’re talking about Dave, he’s not here. I did tell him to get out, and I assumed he went straight back to you.”
She could hear Rebecca breathing on the other end of the phone. She started unpacking her shopping. She opened the fridge and tucked a carton of milk inside. She took the loaf of bread and dropped it on top of the bread bin, the bread bin being full of biscuits. She folded up the shopping bag and stuffed it into a drawer.
“Dave was here,” she said. “I threw him out. Between you and me, Dave isn’t the man I thought he was.”
Rebecca said, “I’m sorry. By the time I found out about you, it was already too late. I was already in love with him.”
Emma knew she was lying. Dave had mentioned Rebecca Wild, a co-worker, on many occasions. She’d been so busy with the Lyle investigation over the last few months that she hadn’t given it much thought.
Looking back, she realised it had probably started out as Dave using Rebecca’s name as a way to gain her attention. Perhaps he’d thought she might feel a little jealous and give him some attention rather than focusing full-time on her investigations. She could only presume that, after he didn’t get the response he hoped for, he’d taken it a step further. Then another step, until…
“I tried calling his mobile,” said Rebecca. “At first it went to voicemail. Now when I call his number, I get a message that says ‘This phone might be switched off.’”
Well, that’s odd. Emma wondered whether Dave might have more than one relationship on the go. It seemed unlikely, but then again, until recently, the thought of him with any other woman had seemed impossible to her. She now realised Dave was full of surprises. She wondered whether she could delicately ask Rebecca whether she thought he might be seeing someone else. She decided there was no easy way to ask.
“Is there anywhere else you think Dave might go?” she asked.
“No; I assumed he was with you. He told me his parents live in Cardiff. He left a message telling me he was on his way over to me. That he’d spent the night at a friend’s place, that night he came to see you. I called all the friends of his I know, and they’ve not seen him. I don’t understand what’s going on.”
Telling Rebecca that Dave had been in her bed and not on a friend’s sofa would benefit no one, Emma decided. At least not at this particular moment.
“He is really close to his parents. Although I doubt he’s gone to Cardiff without telling you. I shouldn’t worry too much. He’ll turn up. I can assure you he won’t be coming back here any time soon. I feel sure he’s been sidetracked in some way, the way blokes are. He’ll be knocking on your door before you know it.”
Rebecca didn’t sound convinced, but Emma had had enough of playing nice. She ended the call as politely as she could then threw her phone onto the armchair and watched it bounce.
Chapter Fifty-One
Emma had been polite to Rebecca and told herself she no longer cared what Dave was doing, but it didn’t stop her feeling hurt and angry. Emotions clawed their way through her body. His betrayal had winded her; it was like a punch to the stomach.
She fed Watson and then they sat together on the sofa while she ate a microwave curry and drank white wine.
It was just after 11.30 p.m. when her mobile phone, still on the armchair, woke her.
“Hello?” She knew she sounded sleepy. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Emma speaking.”
“It’s lovely to speak with you finally. I’m a big fan of yours, Emma. Why wouldn’t I be? You’re a strong, independent, beautiful woman. This is really exciting.”
It was a woman’s voice. Emma was confused. Was this a prank call?
“Who is this? I didn’t catch your name.”
“You’ll figure that out soon enough, darling. I’ve been watching you. You’re a fascinating little thing. Buzzing here, there and everywhere. You’re like a pretty little bumblebee buzzing in circles around the garden. Hopping from one flower to another; round and round you go. And then, after bumbling around for hours and hours, you go home to your pussycat. Meow. Emma, all alone with her cat. How’s that working out for you? What do you think Dave’s up to right now? Right this minute? I bet you one million pounds you can’t guess.”
Emma could feel her breathing speeding up. She was awake now and on high alert.
Instinctively she looked behind her. She got to her feet, walked quickly and quietly to her front door and checked that the security chain was on. She went to the window and looked out. She looked up and down the street but could see very little; the only light came from streetlights.
She found a scrap of paper and a pen to record exactly what the woman was saying. She sat down on the couch, set the paper on the coffee table, pulled up her sleeves and began to write. At the top of the page she marked the time, and in capital letters “KELLY LYLE.”
“Why are you calling me?” she asked, keeping her voice level. “I’m pleased you are calling me – of course I am. I just wondered why now?”
“I felt now was the right time.”<
br />
“When can we meet?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’ve seen what I do to people who disappoint me. For the time being, I think it’s better we don’t meet. For now, I find you more interesting alive than dead. Dave, on the other hand…”
Emma’s eyes widened. She put a hand over her mouth to cover her gasp. What did Lyle know of Dave? Her brain started putting all sorts of connections together. She felt her heart pounding.
She asked hesitantly, “What do you mean?” She thought she knew what Lyle meant, but she prayed she was wrong. Please be wrong. Please God – no, not David.
“I have a little surprise for you. I suppose you’d call it a gift. I’ve been watching you, watching Hardy. I’ve also been watching Dave. I could see what he was doing. He isn’t good for you.”
Emma noticed Lyle had said “isn’t,” not “wasn’t.”
“I could see what Dave was doing long before you ever turned a blind eye to it. Love really is blind.” She chuckled at her own joke. “Dave won’t be breaking any more hearts. He’s a distraction, and I need you to focus. You’re a smart woman, Detective Inspector Emma Cotton, and you can do a lot better than him. You have a bright and shining future ahead of you.
“To fulfil our potential, there are those we need to leave behind. For you, Dave is one of those.
“We women need to stick together, look out for one another. So, I had a very long talk with Dave, and he agreed that he’d mistreated you and you should move on with your life without him. By the end of our conversation, he also agreed that he deserved to be punished. I will admit he is unaware of the full extent of the punishment I intend for him. Let’s just say sometimes I get a little bit carried away. You know how it is; we both find satisfaction in our work – just in different ways.”
Emma was shaking uncontrollably now. She could hear her voice trembling as she pleaded. “Please, no. I don’t need you to do anything on my behalf. Dave is a good man. He and I are history, yes, but he’s a good man. I’m fully focused on the investigation. I’m giving you all my attention. Just let him go. Please, let me know where he is and that he’s safe. There’s no need to hurt him. He’s no threat to you.”
“Oh, Emma, you’re such a sweetie. Dave is history. Of that, you can be sure. He was selfish and caused you pain. I think in the long run you will thank me for what I’ve done.”
Past tense, Emma noticed: “what I’ve done.”
“Myself, I have a love-hate relationship with men. I think it’s one of the things that define who I am. I used to think it was a problem. Now I see it as a blessing.
“It’s been lovely talking to you, Emma, but I really must go now. Dave has regained consciousness, and I need to strike while the iron is hot, as they say. One last thing: this is a freebie, just for you. No Scrabble piece this time.”
“Kelly, let me speak to—”
The call ended.
Emma felt the room spinning. Her body tingled. She got to her feet and began pacing up and down. She thought she might vomit. She went to the window and opened it. She needed air, lungs full of cold air. She couldn’t think. She needed to think. She was just about to call Hardy when her phone beeped.
It was a message from Lyle.
She clicked on it.
An address.
It must be Dave’s location. It had to be.
Emma searched around for her keys. She snatched them up from the kitchen worktop and sprinted out the front door.
Even though her head was telling her she was too late, her heart was urging her to hurry. She prayed there was still a chance.
Chapter Fifty-Two
An anonymous tipoff had led officers to a workshop on a small industrial estate. It was after 12.30 a.m. when I arrived. The desk sergeant who had called me told me the attending officers had insisted I would want to see the crime scene. Whether I liked it or not, I was being dragged deeper and deeper into my old routine.
A young officer was outside the workshop throwing up. He had one hand on the wall as his legs buckled beneath him. His partner, Officer Franklin, came to the door and said, “It’s this way, sir. I hope you’ve got a stronger stomach than Grantham. We’re lucky he didn’t puke all over the crime scene.”
The workshop was used by a printing business. Along one side was a guillotine and a collating machine. The back wall had racks piled high with paper of all descriptions. On the right side of the workshop was a modern-looking printing press. In the centre of the room was a long white-topped bench.
Stairs led to the second floor; there were offices and a graphic design studio on a mezzanine floor. A walkway at the top of the stairs gave access to the offices. A handrail ran along the edge of the mezzanine floor for the safety of those using the walkway. A rope was tied to one of the handrail posts.
At the end of the rope, hanging upside down by his feet, was the naked body of a man. His head and hands had been removed, and his stomach had been sliced from left to right, its contents spilling out over what remained of him.
Franklin looked at me. “This was on the bench. We haven’t touched it.” He pointed to a glass jar on the bench. I squatted down to look at the contents.
“It’s his tongue,” I said.
“Yeah. It wasn’t enough to do all that to him.” He gestured at the mutilated body. “They also needed to cut out his tongue and stick it in a jar. I hope I never see anything like this again.”
I remembered saying something similar when I was a young detective constable. Since then, I’d seen many scenes like this – and many much worse.
I heard raised voices behind me and turned to see Cotton rushing in through the front door.
“Is it him? Is it David?”
I looked at what was left of the body suspended from the ceiling. I watched as she ran and stumbled towards the body. As she got close, she fell to her knees and let out a mournful cry.
“I’m sorry, Cotton,” I said without knowing why. “I don’t understand. Do you know this person?”
“He was my fiancé.” She looked at me with tears pouring down her face.
I looked at the headless body. “How can you be sure?”
“There on his arm – the tattoos.”
His blood-soaked right arm and shoulder were extensively tattooed.
Cotton looked at me and then behind me at the bench and the glass jar.
I needed to get her out of there. I helped her to her feet and, putting my arm around her to keep her up and keep her moving, took her outside.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Cotton leaned against the front of her car. I stood beside her, unable to fathom what was going through her mind. Her face and eyes were puffy. She blew her nose and wiped it.
“I’m okay. He was my ex-fiancé. We’d just broken up.” She tried to laugh. “I’d just found out he was sleeping with someone else. The trouble is, I still loved him. I probably would have taken him back if we’d had a chance to work it through.”
She rooted around in a pocket and found another tiny piece of tissue to wipe her nose.
“I wish you hadn’t seen that.” I looked back towards the horror show in the workshop then took off my jacket and put it around her.
I realised how little I knew about her life beyond this investigation. I felt helpless seeing her this way. She looked so vulnerable and so alone. I wanted to put my arm around her and tell her everything would be okay, but I stopped myself. I knew the Emma I recognised, the fierce and tenacious Detective Inspector Cotton, would soon be ready to hunt down the bastard who had done this unspeakable crime. She’d make them pay. That was the reason I didn’t comfort her.
She brushed herself off and cleared her throat. She looked at me and struggled to find the words. “Lyle did this.”
I said nothing. I waited, giving her time to compose her thoughts.
“Lyle called me a couple of hours ago… to tell me she had David… She wanted me to know she had him. That I could do nothing… nothing to stop
her punishing him… Her killing him this way was a gift, she said, for me.”
In her eyes, I could see she was holding onto the blame for Dave’s death.
“You couldn’t have stopped this, Emma. You’re not to blame in any way. She killed him several hours ago. She’s playing with you. Whatever she told you, it was a lie. You couldn’t have got here in time. There was nothing you could have done to stop this.”
She took off my jacket, passed it back to me and said, “Thank you.” After a moment, she asked, “What’s this about a recording? I heard someone say there was a video. I want to see it. Don’t look at me like that.”
The fighter is back, I thought.
“It’s on a smartphone left on what remained of Dave’s clothes, the clothes she cut from his body.
“There is only one phone number on the phone, which we now know is your number. I haven’t watched the whole recording, but what I have seen is disturbing. It’s very graphic. I’m not sure you should see it. Or at least, not right now. You should give yourself a little time.”
“Time is something we don’t have. Don’t you dare sideline me on this. It’s my investigation, and no matter how far it goes, I’m in all the way. Show me the damn recording.”
Her eyes were full of fire; I could tell she was going to watch the recording whether I thought it was a good idea or not.
The recording bounced around at first. It showed the floor moving past and the sound of someone walking. The picture panned left and right then all over the place.
“Fast-forward a few minutes,” I said. “We can analyse the full recording another time.”
Suddenly the video showed Dave’s face. I turned to Emma, who showed no emotion. The frame pulled back to reveal Dave’s naked body. I could see no blood, but his face was red from exertion, and he was crying.