COVER BLOWN: covert police work clashes with a murder investigation

by Ian Robinson

  Nash had explained that she’d been sent on an autism awareness training day with an outside agency. She’d come away having enjoyed a free lunch and coffee on tap and, when it was over, she’d stayed and discussed her need for an analyst on her Intel desk with the organiser of the event.

  Nash had left her card and forwarded an application form to the person in the agency who’d organised the event. Clarke applied. She’d been there for over a year. She’d never been sick, did her allotted hours and more, when required, and always completed a task on time. Where identifying, extracting and linking data was concerned, she was the go-to person.

  Moretti noticed Clarke had seen him out the corner of her eye. He waited for her to finish what she was doing and remove her headphones. He sat beside her and explained what was required.

  ‘Will Sergeant Matthews be all right?’ she asked as she placed the paperwork in a tray and ensured the base of each A4 sheet aligned evenly as she listened.

  ‘Yes, he should be fine. He’s in hospital to make sure he’s fit to go home and then, hopefully, back here with you,’ he said.

  ‘Hopefully?’ Clarke asked.

  ‘Just an expression, a poor one really,’ he said.

  ‘He wants to go on holiday.’

  ‘Does he? He never mentioned that to me. I would have covered for him,’ Moretti said.

  ‘He knows there’s no holiday time while people keep getting stiffed – his words not mine. He also said he’d look at the social media accounts for the victims as I was up to my eyes in work. I tried to explain the level of my in tray was no higher than my chin, but he just smiled and got on with it. I knew he hadn’t done it right,’ she said.

  Moretti went to give her a reassuring touch on the arm but stopped himself, smiled and left. She had already attached her headphones and was engrossed in the first sheet as Moretti glanced back at her. Clarke was right. A holiday is what they all needed. He got back to his desk just as his desk phone began to blink indicating an active call.

  He picked up.

  ‘Is DI Nash there please?’ a female voice enquired.

  ‘No, I’m afraid not,’ he said.

  ‘It’s the ward sister at St Thomas’s Hospital, I need to speak to her urgently.’

  ‘Can I help? It’s DS Moretti. DI Nash is on her way to you as we speak,’ Moretti said.

  ‘My, that’s quick. I’ve only just found out Mr Buchanan has left the building… hello?’

  Moretti dropped the phone back in its cradle and grabbed his jacket and car keys. The last thing to be heard was the vibration of the handrail on the stairs as he bounded down each flight and out of the building towards his vehicle.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Nash stopped pacing the small side room of the hospital and took a deep breath. PC Tipton sat, hat in hands as he turned it over. He explained the circumstances that had led to Buchanan absconding. Tipton had needed a leak and a nurse offered to sit with Buchanan while he went. That nurse was now being treated for a puncture wound to the back of his neck, after Buchanan had plunged a biro he’d secreted under the mattress into the soft tissue at the base of the nurse’s skull.

  ‘I’ve radioed in and units are out searching for him. I’m sorry, boss,’ Tipton said, as he waited for Nash to admonish him.

  A minute can seem like an eternity when you’re expecting the worst. Nash turned to him.

  ‘Just get out there and find him,’ she said.

  Tipton sullenly placed his flat hat on his head and closed the door on his way out.

  There was a light knock and Nash turned towards the sound as Moretti entered.

  ‘Thank God,’ she said.

  ‘I’ve been referred to as worse. I take it the PC I just saw dragging his sorry arse was Group Four’s next recruit?’

  ‘The very same.’

  ‘I’ve updated George on the developments, and Buchanan’s details and description are now circulated to all cars.’

  ‘So, how’s things with Matthews and Jonesy?’

  ‘They’re out searching,’ she said.

  ‘Bloody hell, they’re like Batman and Robin. Are they OK?’

  ‘The doctor said they’re both fine and recommended a day’s recovery before being interviewed, which I will ensure is adhered to once they return. I hope they find Buchanan soon, Nick. If he’s our man and kills again…’

  ‘Let’s not go there. I’m certain he’ll come to notice. He’s dressed in a hospital gown and no shoes. He won’t get far,’ Moretti said with a note of reassurance.

  Nash didn’t have Moretti’s faith in the crippled system. Due to the cuts and lack of officers, they were lucky to get a copper to be on a hospital watch such was the shortfall on the streets.

  Moretti could tell Nash was downbeat. He explained what he’d done back at the incident room in the hope it would lift her mood.

  ‘I’ve got Sally reviewing Matthews’s Instagram work. I had a look myself and discovered a pattern to the times the cat images were taken. All were taken on or around 6:45 p.m. If the killer’s on her friends list then they’d soon work out she’d be in at that time. If, and it’s a big if, Buchanan has access to her account, then we should know pretty soon. Sally’s good and if it’s there, she’ll find it and make it stand in court,’ Moretti said.

  ‘That’s good to know. At least we’ll get a fast result if she finds anything. I need him in custody more than ever now, he’s a liability and if he isn’t guilty, he’s not making a good case of convincing me to look elsewhere.’

  The blur of a dark coat flashed past the glass in the room’s door. They had both been affected by the brief change in light and were looking at the door as it burst open.

  Jonesy was bent over, out of breath, and as Nash went towards him to help, he extended his left arm, palm out.

  ‘I’m OK, just a bit fucked from running all over the hospital trying to find you both.’ He paused to get his breath then continued, ‘We’ve found him – Buchanan.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  ‘What’s the situation?’ Nash asked.

  Matthews was busy ushering staff and patients along the corridor and away from the main ward.

  ‘Buchanan is in the side room with a woman. He’s got hold of a scalpel and holding her at knife point. He’s demanded some clothes and to be let out of the building. He wants a taxi and once he’s in it, he says he’ll let her go. He wants no police outside. If he sees any, he’ll kill her,’ Matthews said.

  As he spoke, a porter rushed by with a patient on a trolley being evacuated from the main ward. As the ward door swung open a figure caught Nash’s eye.

  ‘Owen, who’s that female? The one not in nurse’s uniform near the main desk area?’

  ‘I don’t know. She was with the woman in the room according to the ward sister, but she couldn’t tell me more as she was trying to calm everyone down and get people away,’ Matthews said.

  It suddenly dawned on Nash who she was, and everything fell into place. It was PC Sonia Roberts, the SOIT officer she’d seen earlier. Nash moved closer to the door and peered through the ward window.

  ‘Oh no – he’s got Diane in there,’ she said.

  ‘Diane?’ Matthews asked.

  Moretti was by Nash’s side now. He could see PC Roberts standing with both palms held out as she spoke towards the open door of the room where Diane was being held.

  ‘Diane is the victim of rape from the scene Jonesy attended,’ Nash said to Matthews.

  Matthews turned and rested his forehead against the wall. He then stood back and faced them again.

  ‘Can this day get any worse?’ he said as a uniform inspector joined them. He had been called by the hospital security once Buchanan had been discovered missing.

  ‘Is one of you DI Nash?’ he asked.

  Nash turned at hearing her name.

  ‘That would be me,’ she said with an air of despair as she looked at the imposing figure before her.

  ‘Inspector Dylan Ivers. I�
�m the duty inspector as well as a hostage negotiator. I understand you know all about the time sapper who’s about to ruin my meal plans later,’ he said.

  Nash nodded her sympathies.

  ‘So, what can you tell me about him before I try and build a rapport?’ Ivers asked as he removed his black clip-on tie and placed it in his flat hat.

  ‘All I can tell you is that he’s a ticking bomb. As well as being a suspect for two murders, there’s a charge of rape and a new rape investigation. He’s managed to be brought to the same hospital as his potential victim. The only bonus is I don’t believe he’s made the connection yet,’ Nash replied as she peered, side-on, through the glass in the door to the ward.

  ‘So, pretty straightforward then,’ Ivers replied, peering over Nash’s shoulder through the window. ‘At least I know one of them in there.’ Ivers nodded in the direction of PC Roberts who was sat side-on to them, balanced on the edge of the nurses’ station.

  ‘Well, you can leave now. There’s plenty for you to be doing and he’s secure. I have other officers in the hospital. I’ll keep you updated and let you know when your suspect is returning to his cell. I’ve spoken with the doctor in charge of his care and she wants him out of here as quickly as possible. It would appear your man’s a good actor. They’d conducted some tests when he bailed and there’s nothing adverse with his heart,’ Ivers said as he left to find a phone.

  Nash extracted herself from the doorway. Behind her Moretti, Matthews and Jonesy were sat on a bench. All looked exhausted. Nash strolled over to them.

  ‘Another fine mess,’ she said.

  Moretti looked up from his phone and Jonesy and Matthews remained in repose, legs out, arms folded across their chests, heads drooped, eyes closed.

  ‘Let’s get the hell out of here,’ Nash said, rousing the two sleeping policemen.

  * * *

  Nash brought the team to attention. All staff were present other than Jonesy, Matthews and Moretti. Moretti was with Clarke outside the room. They’d dropped Matthews and Jonesy at their respective homes from hospital. Nash didn’t want them anywhere near the incident room as one sniff of them being available to talk and DI Richards of Professional Standards would have them in an interview room quicker than Buchanan could abscond from a ward.

  ‘Thanks for getting back here so quickly. I’m aware you are all busy. I’ll keep this update as brief as I can,’ Nash said.

  The others in the room shifted to a comfortable position.

  ‘So far the investigations haven’t moved as quickly as we would’ve liked.’

  Murmurs of agreement echoed around the table.

  ‘However, we can only go where the evidence takes us. So far that’s been scant. What we can say is that Buchanan was in Melissa’s flat. We have the physical evidence and also his prepared statement. What we can’t say is that he killed Melissa or knew or had any contact with Jade.

  ‘We also know that he used a garage belonging to his girlfriend,’ she continued. ‘In that garage was a set of motorbike panniers that contained what can be described as a rape kit. The contents are all being forensically examined. In addition to the rape, we await the results to see if any item can be linked to Melissa or Jade.’

  ‘I thought Dr King found no signs of sexual interference at each scene,’ a young DC from the outside team queried.

  ‘That’s right. But that’s not to say our victims haven’t encountered Buchanan before and for whatever reason failed to report a rape or attempted rape. We can’t ask them now, and we need to close that door so the defence can’t argue that he had but didn’t murder them. As far as we can ascertain, Buchanan had done some work for Melissa on her bathroom. He’s acknowledged as much in a prepared statement. As for Jade, we don’t know yet. The only person he’s admitted seeing, but not touching, is Melissa when he saw her in the bath and was already dead,’ Nash answered.

  ‘In addition, we have a victim of rape who’s entered the investigation albeit on the periphery. Our team won’t be investigating her allegation, but the MO would fit with Buchanan’s previous in relation to the charge of rape he’s wanted for. The SOIT officer thought the same and made contact as a result of the Intranet appeal. Unfortunately, the victim’s now a hostage of Buchanan at St Thomas’s Hospital, so if he’s the suspect for that rape then that investigative team have a huge mountain to climb. It’s not insurmountable as far as forensic transfer goes,’ she said.

  Her heart felt heavy. She looked at the sea of faces, most sported shadows under their eyes.

  ‘Buchanan isn’t going to walk away from this. He will go back inside, but I want him to remain there until he dies. I want him to receive multiple charges, but unless we can come up with anything more concrete, he will walk at court on our murders,’ Nash said.

  As she looked around the table, she was aware that Clarke wasn’t there. This wasn’t unusual. Matthews would always relay anything she had established, and Nash would follow up outside the meeting.

  ‘I have something from the Intelligence Desk,’ Moretti said as he entered the room and held a file aloft.

  There were a few sniggers at the suggestion the Intelligence Desk had come up with anything worthwhile and Moretti knew they’d soon be sitting mouths agape once he’d fed back the results.

  ‘I’m sorry to intrude like this, guv, but it’s important,’ he said.

  Now he’d announced this, ears were pricked. Nash smiled and Moretti sat down and passed a copy of the file along the table eventually arriving to Nash.

  ‘DS Matthews had been looking at the social media accounts for the victims. He had proposed a theory that the killer may be connected with each victim via their friends list, as they had access to the images posted. Some of which were marked with where they were taken. He thought this could be a lead, as the killer would know where they lived and hence where he’d strike. However, I reallocated this to Sally once DS Matthews became indisposed, and she’s worked on the Instagram account for each victim,’ Moretti said.

  He opened the file and handed out sheets of A4 around the table.

  The sheets showed images of cats and a map of where they were taken. Another showed a timeline of when they were taken.

  ‘I wasn’t convinced by the theory that the killer was a friend of either victim from what Matthews had suggested. Mainly because these women were cautious about whom they associated with. Despite going out socially, they didn’t just add anyone they met to their social media accounts. Each account was private, but they hadn’t disabled location services on their phones and the app was enabled for this service. However, you couldn’t see Melissa or Jade’s pictures unless you were added as a friend.’ Moretti paused, as he attempted to recall how Clarke had explained everything to him. It had to be Moretti who relayed the information because she found talking to the DCs exasperating –what was common sense to her was at times like another language to the officers.

  ‘So, where does this take us?’ Moretti continued. ‘Sally had access to the accounts and could work on the images. She’s extracted what’s known as EXIF data for each picture and this is shown against a selection of the photos. As you will see, the pictures were taken at the same time on the same day of each week. The time is around 6:45 p.m.’

  ‘I don’t understand how this helps?’ Sagona said.

  This was met with nods of agreement around the room.

  Moretti continued, ‘A friends list for both Melissa and Jade is small by comparison to most. None are connected between the victims or have any connection to Buchanan. Sally has also looked at Buchanan’s phone. He’s on Facebook only but under a pseudonym. Sally was able to establish the pseudonym was Buchanan’s by his associates, places frequented, and music and film tastes. It’s not difficult and when you look at how she did it, it becomes clear. It’s hard to remain anonymous on social media when your associates don’t. Truth gets added in images and posts and that leads to identity revelation.’

  Sagona raised his pen like a kid at
school.

  ‘So, if it isn’t taking us anywhere, we can now put this to bed and concentrate on another area that will provide a lead?’ Sagona said. It sounded like he was still upset at the linked cases and the volume of work he had on the go.

  Moretti smirked and waved his chewed pen in his direction.

  ‘Less haste, our Keeper of the Gates. Sally looked at the phone data for the victims’ incoming and outgoing calls and she noticed a number that appeared once, calling out and coming in. The significance of the number was that it showed on both victims’ call data.’

  Nash stopped writing and looked up at Moretti.

  ‘It’s a non-attributable number, but CRIMINT shows a log that’s marked as protected for your eyes only, ma’am,’ he said with a frown.

  Nash sat back, wide-eyed. The team had all turned in her direction and waited on her response.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Inspector Ivers regretted any thought he’d had on starting his shift that it would go smoothly. He’d decided to enter the ward but remain away from the side room Buchanan inhabited along with his unwilling tenant. PC Roberts remained where she was, perched on the nurses’ desk, and appeared to be doing her job well – keeping Buchanan calm and his knife hand steady.

  The ward was theirs. Ivers began a breathing exercise in preparation for his role. A role he’d been specially trained for. Weeks of training: sleep deprivation, talking, learning and psychological challenges under extreme pressure were about to be put into practice again. The last deployment hadn’t gone as he’d hoped but he placed that at the back of his mind as he focussed on PC Roberts. This wasn’t a case of good cop bad cop. Ivers didn’t fit any type other than unpredictable.

  Ivers waited until Buchanan became weary of the inactivity and voiced his demands. Ivers had been writing in Sharpie on A4 with instructions for PC Roberts. He held these up whenever she reached for a drink of water in a bottle that sat next to her. She could naturally look away from Buchanan without him questioning her. Ivers had written words of encouragement to reassure Roberts she was doing well, but now he needed to change tactic. He prompted her to allude she was unable to promise anything Buchanan demanded but that she’d get someone here who could. Now was her chance to introduce not only the last line of defence, but also her ticket off the ward.