by Sally Rigby
‘We’ve already done that. But we can look again. We might’ve missed something,’ Matt said. ‘We know it’s him. It all fits. We’ll nail him. At the moment I’m running down a lead from the hotline. Someone who claims to have seen Poppy walking through Riverdale Shopping Centre the afternoon before her murder. I’ll check the CCTV.’
‘Good. Maybe they saw Vaughan in there, too. He could’ve been stalking her.’
‘That’s what I’m hoping,’ Matt said.
The phone on the front desk of the incident room rang, and Whitney reached over to answer it. ‘Walker.’
‘We’ve got another body. Under Tile Bridge. Looks like same MO.’ Her hand gripped the edge of the desk, and she sank down onto the chair.
No. It can’t be. They’d got their man.
‘Thanks. I’ll be right there.’
She replaced the phone on the handset. How the fuck had this happened?
‘Guv?’ Matt’s puzzled expression stared back at her.
‘There’s another body.’ The words stuck in the back of her throat.
‘Shit. That mea—’
‘Vaughan couldn’t have done it. He was in custody. Unless it’s a copycat. We’ll know more once I’ve been to the scene.’ She grabbed her bag from under the table.
‘Where’s the body?’ Matt asked.
‘Tile Bridge. It’s by the stream, on university grounds.’
‘Water again,’ Matt said.
‘Yeah. Speak to your lead about Poppy. I’ll meet you back here later.’
She hurried out of the incident room. Another young woman murdered. She cursed herself for saying at the press conference they weren’t looking for anyone else. How many women took that as they were now safe? She’d even told Tiffany she’d be fine to go out on her own. Okay, she’d said women should still be careful, but would they have listened? Or would they have assumed, like most young people, they were immortal and it didn’t apply to them? Was this young woman’s death on her?
Stop.
She forced the thoughts to the back of her mind. It was pointless jumping to conclusions before assessing the situation.
She turned on her siren and drove as fast as she could to the crime scene. By the time she arrived, Claire Dexter was already there. She recognised her old red MG soft top.
Running down to the cordon, she pulled on gloves as she went. She signed in and ducked under the tape, heading in the direction of the body.
‘Hello, Whitney,’ Claire said, looking up from taking photos of the body.
She moved closer to take a look at the woman, immediately recognising the victim. ‘Shit. That’s Lydia Parker.’
‘You know her?’
‘I met her when we interviewed the twins who had a party the victims all attended. Lydia’s their flatmate. She was a really sweet girl. Had everything going for her and now—’ She swallowed hard. ‘I take it this murder’s the same as the others?’
‘From my findings so far, yes.’
‘Could it be a copycat?’
‘I’ll know more when I get the body back to the lab.’
‘Tiffany will be devastated.’
‘Are they friends?’
‘Tiffany started dating Henry Spencer, one of the twins, so she’s bound to know her.’ She dragged in a long breath. She had to get on with the case. She couldn’t dwell on having to tell her daughter.
‘Here’s the phone, which was in her lap.’
‘Thanks.’ She took the phone and pressed the button. Her insides clenched as she viewed the photo of Lydia restrained on the bed. She placed the phone in an evidence bag and skirted around the body to look more closely at the scene. No drag marks. Nothing. She’d get forensics onto it, but she doubted they’d find anything.
‘I’ve done all I can. I’ll get back to the lab and will be in touch once I’ve got something to tell you,’ Claire said.
‘Thanks. I better get back to the station. I don’t want to release Vaughan until we have confirmation it’s not a copycat.’
She drove back to the office. How had they managed to get it so wrong? The evidence against Vaughan was compelling, though circumstantial, but had she been too quick to pin the murders on him? What was she going to tell Jamieson? She’d be the one blamed in the media because she’d done all the speaking. Had he done it on purpose, in case it all backfired? Usually he loved to be the centre of attention and having his name out there in the media. Yet this time he’d handed it to her.
She didn’t have time to think that one through.
When she got back into the incident room the team was there.
‘There’s no easy way to say this. It looks like we’ve fucked up big time. I’ve been to the crime scene. I recognise the body. She’s Lydia Parker, and she lives with the Spencer twins. Ellie, find her family’s address. They need to be informed. Matt—’
The phone on the incident desk rang, interrupting her. ‘Walker,’ she answered.
‘It’s Jamieson.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘My office now.’ He hung up before she could even reply.
Her heart sank. What she wouldn’t give for a stiff whisky right now. He was going to give her both barrels. ‘Jamieson wants me in his office. I want a run down on where everyone is when I get back.’
‘Yes, guv,’ Matt replied, the pitying look on his face reflecting her thoughts.
She got to Jamieson’s office and found the door open, so she tapped on it and walked straight in.
‘Sir.’ He was sitting at his desk, staring into space.
‘Close the door.’
After doing as he’d asked, she sat in front of him. The look on his face unsettled her. It wasn’t angry, more determined, and his eyes were cold as they fixed her with a stare. She involuntarily squirmed in her seat.
‘What do you have to say?’
‘About the latest murder?’ she asked, just to check he already knew. Which was stupid, because of course he did.
‘No. About what you watched on the TV last night. Of course the murder,’ he growled.
‘It appears we might have arrested the wrong man. Unless this is a copycat, which I doubt, Kevin Vaughan didn’t do it.’
‘You don’t say. How could you fuck this up so badly? I thought it was an open and shut case.’
‘We thought it was. The evidence was circumstantial, but there was so much of it we believed it to be only a matter of time until Vaughan confessed.’ She flicked non-existent fluff from her trousers, not making eye contact with him.
‘Yet even though we had no confession, or concrete evidence, you took it upon yourself to focus everything on Vaughan and look no further. Do you think that was a wise move?’
‘In hindsight, probably not. But you knew all this,’ she added before being able to stop herself.
‘I was being led by you. You’re the officer in charge of the case, and you insisted you had your man. If I’d have imagined the evidence was so tenuous, I’d have made sure you continued investigating other leads.’
Did he really believe what he was saying? Or was he just trying to distance himself?
‘We’re back investigating the case and following up on anything that’s come through the hotline. We do have a lead on someone who saw Poppy Brooks at one of the shopping centres. We’ll catch the bastard, sir.’
‘We’ll have to call another press conference. That will make us look incompetent in the eyes of the public. The Chief Constable won’t be happy.’
‘I understand. Do you want me with you at the press conference?’ she asked, hoping he’d say no so she could get on with the investigation. But she’d understand if she had to be there. She was the one who’d told the good news, so it was only right she was the one to admit their failure.
‘Are you joking?’
She frowned. ‘No. I just thought you’d want me there. I’m happy to leave it to you and get on with solving the case.’
‘You don’t get it, Walker. Not only are you not g
oing to be present at the press conference, you’re not going to be involved in the case.’
She swallowed hard. Surely he didn’t mean he was taking her off the case? Why would he do that? ‘Not involved in the case?’ she repeated.
‘Well done. At least you managed to get that right. I warned you if you fucked up again then you’d be put on other duties. And that’s exactly what’s going to happen. We can’t afford this case to drag on any more. We need someone in charge who’s a lot more competent than you.’
She could hardly breathe. She’d worked hard to succeed in her career, and now it was over. How could she continue on the force if all she was doing was traffic rotas, or worse?
‘Who, sir?’
‘I’m calling in DCI Masters.’
Talk about rubbing salt into the wound. Masters was the biggest arse around. An arrogant son of a bitch who pissed everyone off. He didn’t care whose toes he stood on as long as he got the results he wanted.
‘Do you want me to work with him, to bring him up to speed?’
‘I do not. He’s on annual leave at the moment and comes back from overseas in forty-eight hours. You have that time to tie up any loose ends and write a report which can be handed over to him on his return.’
‘But if we don’t continue investigating, that’s forty-eight hours we’ve lost.’
‘I didn’t say stop investigating. Your team can work the case, and you can advise where necessary. In the meantime, concentrate on getting everything in order for DCI Masters. You can go now.’ He dismissed her with his hand and averted his eyes to some papers on his desk.
Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away, grateful he didn’t get to see them.
There was a killer on the loose, and they had no idea when he’d strike again, yet all she could do was sit back and watch.
Chapter Thirty
George hadn’t slept for two nights after seeing Stephen in the pub with that woman. She’d decided to work from home, as she couldn’t face going in, which was fine, as she didn’t have any lectures or tutorials. How could Stephen cheat on her? They had a good thing going. Okay, she was more dedicated to her work than he was, and she didn’t want to be around other people as much as he did. But he’d never complained in the past. Well, not much. And relationships were give and take, weren’t they? She’d given up a lot when he moved in. Her privacy. Her need for quiet when working. She even put up with his untidiness. Yet it clearly wasn’t enough, because he was seeing someone else. And who the hell was she? Certainly no one she recognised.
What should she do? Could she forgive him? Should she even mention it? Deep down, was she surprised? He was a good-looking guy, and women were always throwing themselves at him. So many questions, for which, at the moment, she had no answers.
She’d sat at her jigsaw all morning, hoping it would help her think clearly about what to do. It usually had that effect when she was stuck over something. But for some reason, it wasn’t working. Her mind was still as conflicted now as it had been earlier. She’d asked him to pop home for lunch, using the excuse she’d enjoy the company, as she was stuck there working.
The front door banged, and her heart flipped. This was it. She either faced him or pretended nothing had happened. Burying her head in the sand wasn’t the way she usually operated, so she had her answer. But it wasn’t easy. And was now the right time? Should she wait until the evening when they’d have more time? But could she stand another five or six hours of uncertainty? Too many questions.
‘Hello.’ Stephen walked into the dining room where she was staring at her puzzle and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘I thought you were meant to be working. Or are you just taking a break?’
‘I couldn’t settle to work.’ She tried to make her voice sound normal, but it didn’t.
He frowned as he looked at her. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Fine.’ She bit down on her bottom lip, inwardly debating her problem.
‘You don’t look it. Are you unwell? You haven’t seemed yourself recently.’
‘And you noticed. Wow. Aren’t I honoured?’
He pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the table and sat down. ‘What’s going on? I’d never have pegged you for making facetious comments for the sake of it. You know I hate that sort of thing.’
Decision made. He needn’t think he could get the better of her by acting like she was the one doing something wrong.
‘I went for a drink the other night with DCI Walker.’
‘I didn’t think you liked her. And now you’re hanging out together. Why?’
‘It doesn’t matter why. It matters where we went.’ She stared directly at him, searching for any tell-tale signs of his guilt. And there were plenty of little ticks. ‘Don’t you want to know where the pub was?’
‘Tell me if you want.’ He acted like he couldn’t care, but she could see he did.
‘I do want. It was the Black Swan in Hollowton. Do you know it? Of course, you do.’
His face paled. ‘It’s not what you think,’ he said quietly.
‘And what do I think, exactly?’
‘You saw me there with a woman, and you think I’m cheating on you.’
‘Ten out of ten,’ she retorted.
‘It doesn’t mean anything.’
George gave a hollow laugh. Could he have come up with anything more clichéd?
‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better, is it? Because let me tell you, it doesn’t. I’m having a quiet drink with a colleague, and suddenly I see my boyfriend. My live-in boyfriend, with his arm around another woman. And you were so wrapped up in each other you didn’t even realise I was there.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Was he? His relaxed shoulders and casual expression didn’t support the words coming from his lips.
‘Sorry for what? Your seeing another woman? Or I found out?’ Her body tensed. She was in danger of losing control, and no way would she let that happen.
‘Does it matter?’ he asked, suddenly appearing less contrite.
‘Yes, it does.’
‘You haven’t even asked why I started seeing someone else.’
‘I don’t need to. You always put it about in the past. Foolish me, I assumed once we got serious and started living together, it would stop. Clearly I was mistaken.’
Nausea coursed through her. He’d made a total fool out of her. She wondered how many of their colleagues knew.
‘I’m not the only person in the wrong here,’ he stated.
Was he now planning to put the blame on her? It beggared belief.
‘What’s that meant to mean? I haven’t been seeing anyone else behind your back.’
‘No. You were doing it in front of me. All the time.’
‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ she demanded. He was making no sense at all.
‘I’m fed up of coming second to your work. It’s all work, work, work with you.’
She flinched, her stomach in knots. ‘I’ve never hidden how important my career is. It always has been. So why are you suddenly using it as an excuse for your infidelity? I don’t believe it. There’s something more.’
‘Okay, there is more.’ He paused. ‘You’re predictable and boring.’
Her shoulders slumped, as she held onto the table to steady herself. He certainly knew how to hit below the belt.
‘Thanks. That’s good to know. Anything else about me you don’t like?’ she asked, immediately regretting it, because she could tell from the expression on his face she’d given him carte blanche to say whatever he wanted.
‘Yes. You’re cold and unfeeling. It’s like you’ve had an emotion bypass. Do you ever cry?’
He was wrong. She got emotional just like the next person, but she kept it to herself. She hated people seeing her cry. Tears were threatening to spill now, but she’d be damned if he was going to see. Luckily, she was wearing her glasses, and she blinked them away without him realising.
‘So, because I don’t cry, I’m cold and unfeeling?’
How could he be so cruel? She’d never dream of being so vindictive. Most people had annoying tendencies, but that didn’t mean you had to destroy their confidence by pointing them out.
What an idiot she’d been to think they had some sort of future together.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you these things.’
She glanced at him, the look on his face unreadable. Why the sudden backtrack? It didn’t make sense.
‘Don’t be. These are your opinions. I’m sure you have others you’d love to share.’
She could’ve kicked herself for yet again giving him free rein for further insults.
‘I don’t want us to fall out. It’s just sometimes everything is too predictable. Even down to your jigsaws.’ He nodded in the direction of the one she was currently doing.
She loved her jigsaws. So what? Some people do crosswords. Some do Sudoku. They were her relaxation of choice.
‘And they make me predictable, how exactly?’
‘It’s your behaviour when you’re doing them. You won’t let anyone touch a single piece because you have it just so.’
He was right. She had a thing about people not touching them. But was that really so bad? She could think of far worse ways to be.
‘I take it this woman you’re seeing isn’t boring or predictable.’
Did she really want to know about the woman? It wouldn’t serve any purpose.
‘I’m not serious about her. But you’re right, she isn’t like you. She’s passionate. Has a thirst for living. Is spontaneous.’
‘All things I’m not.’
‘You said it.’ He shrugged.
‘Could you insult me anymore?’ She clenched her fists in her lap and looked away before she totally lost it and punched him in the face.
‘You asked.’
He was right. She did ask, and she had her answer. But now she knew exactly what to do about the situation.
‘I’m so sorry I’ve been so unbearable to live with. But that stops right now. Pack your belongings. I want you out of my house. Today.’