He was right about the hours they’d been putting in. ‘But it’s important, sir. Another week has passed. Going by his track record, it’ll be tonight, if it hasn’t already happened. But maybe this time we can stop it.’ Eve was aware she sounded desperate. ‘If not me, then put Ferguson on it. He said he wanted to be more involved.’
Hastings straightened. ‘He been giving you trouble?’
He’d been difficult, but he’d also been so keen. Last week, him and Mearns had followed the dealer, spider’s-web tattoo and all, from the pub to a flat in Portland Street. According to them, he’d looked shifty but more through fear. Kept checking over his shoulder every five seconds. She wasn’t sure what to make of that.
Anyway, as tempting as it was, she didn’t want to get Ferguson in shit. ‘Not trouble, no. Just being his usual pain-in-the-backside self.’
‘You do know it’s not about what happened with Sanders?’ Hastings let go of the chair, walked round to the front of his desk and perched on the edge of it. ‘I don’t think he even blames you. On another note, Dr Shetty seems happy with you according to her weekly reports.’
Eve had no wish to talk about Dr Shetty or the bullshit Eve had been feeding her. ‘Can we look at putting him on to Hardy? I know when I mentioned it last week you felt it didn’t merit the manpower but, with the MacNeill link and Sanders being his arresting officer, the fact another week has passed and this now fits the pattern of murders to date, I’d say we have to.’
‘Anything else?’
Eve grappled for evidence to support her argument. ‘As you know, Cooper and Mearns interviewed the ex-employer he stole the ketamine from. I spoke to Sonia again. Ferguson and the team looked into anyone with links to the guy. Not much came out of any of it. It’s a hunch, sir, on what we do have.’
Hastings nodded slowly, not looking convinced. ‘And what about the prostitute?’
‘Rosie, sir?’
‘Yes. Her experience of Hardy sounded twisted, but is it enough? Has there been anything else from her?’
‘No, but I think she’ll back him all the way. We know she’s got some obsession with the guy. Jealousy. And I doubt it’s because he’s good in bed.’
Hastings looked disgusted.
‘I know. I’ve been thinking about her a lot. She reminds me of that girl.’
‘What girl?’
‘The one in Austria. Locked in the cellar.’
Hastings stared at Eve as if she was the one who should be locked up.
‘I know, but there’s something about how Rosie defended Hardy, protected him, like she couldn’t see what he’s been doing to her. The day the Austrian girl escaped, her captor was found beheaded on a train track. She was devastated. She still carries a photo of him in her purse.’
‘Stockholm Syndrome.’
‘That’s it. Knew there was a term for it.’
Hastings looked to the ceiling, crossed his arms. ‘Sounds a bit far-fetched, don’t you think?’
‘It’s better than the other option.’
‘What?’
‘That she loves the screwed-up sonofabitch.’
Hastings smiled.
‘Anyway, it depends if we can put a little pressure on her to rethink. I’ve got some of the beat guys keeping an eye out for her down Union Grove tonight. Ferguson’s got the aunt covered if you put him on surveillance at the house for both of them tonight.’
Hastings sighed. ‘Fine. Go home.’ He stood. ‘Let me break the news to Ferguson.’
Eve was heading out to her shed when her mobile rang. Cooper. Shit. Had they found a body?
‘Please tell me this isn’t what I’m thinking, Cooper.’
‘It isn’t what you’re thinking. Promise. Not yet, anyway.’
Eve’s heartbeat slowed. ‘Make it quick then. You’re coming between a woman and her escape.’
‘I won’t pry. Been asked by the better half to invite you to dinner Christmas Day.’
As Eve walked across the snow-covered grass towards the shed, she was trying to think what date they were on, how far away Christmas was. The thought of it all the last thing on her mind.
Cooper spoke again. ‘She says if you say no, I’m to put her on the phone.’
Eve smiled, unlocked the shed. ‘Doesn’t sound like I have a choice.’
Cooper spoke a little quieter. ‘Louise wants to invite Sanders and Archie too.’
Eve pushed open the door. ‘I can’t see Archie and me being a recipe for festive cheer.’
‘I said that, but she’s adamant it’s the way to go.’
Eve tutted but then thought of Sanders. ‘I could handle passing the salt. If he goes for it, then OK, but I doubt he will.’
‘Great. Louise was asking about Mearns. Doesn’t want her to feel left out. Thought she might be alone what with her folks being in Bolton and her life revolving around work.’
‘Jesus, Cooper. Are you guys having a Christmas dinner or a work do?’
Cooper laughed. ‘You know what’s she’s like.’
Eve knew exactly what Louise was like. A homebody with a good heart who wanted the world to be a better place, for everyone to get on. A tall order for the world but maybe even more so for Eve and Mearns. Although it seemed there had been a slight warming in the attitude from Mearns recently, spending Christmas together might be pushing it. ‘I’m sure Mearns’ll be spending it with the new boyfriend. What’s the deal with that anyway? All this secrecy?’
‘You tell me. Her mobile’s been going a lot. I’ve almost asked a few times if there’s something she wants to tell me, but she doesn’t strike me as one for sharing at the best of times. Might get a swift kick to my groin.’
Eve smiled.
‘Anyway, I can only ask – about Christmas, I mean.’ Cooper went silent. ‘Boss, I hope to hell it is Hardy otherwise it feels like we’re all sitting about letting someone else die tonight.’
‘I know. It’s shit. Don’t know what to do with myself. Not going to stop it from happening by sitting in the office. Or working here either. But what do we have? How the hell do we know where we need to be?’
‘We don’t.’
Eve switched on the lights in the shed. ‘Nothing we can do other than keep an eye on Hardy tonight and hope.’
Cooper clicked his tongue. ‘You’re not Ferguson’s favourite person.’
‘When am I ever?’
‘True. Last time I saw him today he was dressed like the Michelin Man, getting ready for a long cold night in the car.’
Eve couldn’t help but smile. ‘Maybe not such a long night if Hardy is our man. And I don’t see what Ferguson’s problem is when it was him that brought Hardy to the table. I thought he’d be up for proving he’s right.’
‘Mmm, I’d say it’s more to do with being made to do a task he feels is beneath him. Let someone else freeze their bollocks off and he’ll take the glory once they have.’
Eve kicked the door closed behind her, reaching for her mask that hung from a hook on the wall. ‘We work on Rosie and his aunt. See if we can play them off against one another – get them to admit they weren’t always with Hardy on the dates of the murders. See what tonight brings.’
‘They both look like they’d take a bullet for Hardy. He’s sharp – he’ll have them buying into anything that he needs them to.’
Cooper was probably right, but Eve couldn’t see what else they had to go on. ‘Fair play, but we need to try. Anyway, in the meantime I need to get lost in something, anything.’
‘I’m hearing that. I’ll go do my husband duty and phone Archie about Christmas.’
‘Good luck. You’ll need it.’
Eve jumped at the sound of her phone ringing, the TV remote on her stomach clunking on to the floor as she did. She dragged herself up the sofa, where she’d sat to eat the takeaway she’d eventually ordered in, realizing she’d fallen asleep sometime after. She peered over to the telly still flickering in the corner of the room and twisted towards the side table, re
aching for her mobile. Cooper. Almost midnight.
She cleared her throat. ‘Eve.’
Silence. Eve checked the screen, thinking the line had gone dead, and then heard Cooper. ‘It’s Sanders.’
It took her a second to process what was being said. She rubbed at bleary eyes. ‘Don’t tell me you’re ringing at this time to say they’re not up for Christmas.’
No answer. Something about Cooper’s voice before all wrong. Eve’s skin prickled. She sat up, rigid. ‘What? What about her?’ Her voice cracked, heart thumping against her ribcage, mouth gone bone dry, instinct telling her what Cooper hadn’t yet.
‘You better come.’
Chapter 33
Friday, 29 November
The familiar scent of oak furniture polish was there as soon as Eve stepped into Sanders’ home but tinged with the sharp smell of copper. She swallowed, willing herself not to puke again, the partly digested takeaway of earlier left at the side of the road on the drive here.
Bodies seemed to swarm the hallway. Eve negotiated them as best she could while avoiding eye contact with faces partly hidden by masks, trying not to see the looks of sympathy she knew would be directed her way.
She walked towards the sitting room, but her body felt like it was being pulled backwards instead, legs heavy, not wanting to lead her towards what lay beyond.
She glanced sideways as she passed the kitchen. Two liaison officers standing inside, one of them moving towards the kettle, revealing Archie hunched over the table, face pressed against the wooden top, body heaving. Tears sprang to Eve’s eyes. She wiped at them as she caught sight of Mearns.
Mearns was standing in the sitting-room doorway with Hastings. Her skin grey, eyes hollow. She made eye contact as Eve approached but didn’t speak, just gripped the top of Eve’s arm and looked to the floor before stepping to the side. Hastings’ mouth was moving. Eve watched his rubbery lips, trying to concentrate on what he was saying, searching his face for God only knows what.
‘You don’t have to do this.’
The words drifted to her in slow motion, from the end of a tunnel. She moved forward, forcing her boss to step back. She stopped inside the room, steeling herself to look at what was a crimson blur in the corner of her eye. In her head she counted to three, turned. Her throat made a noise she never knew it could.
Sanders was looking right at her – wide, terrified blue eyes above a sea of red, as dead as the rest of her body had been in life. She was sat in her wheelchair. The cotton pyjamas she wore lay slick against her slender body, their intricate snowflake pattern no longer white. Her head and wrists still held fast in the cushioned supports, the ventilation tube ripped out and hanging loose, her mouth gaping, tongue gone.
Eve swayed on her heels, the room spinning around her, blood red filling the space. She turned, searching for the door she’d come through, shrugging off hands that reached for her as she moved towards it. She burst out into the hallway, her hand clutching at her chest, struggling to breathe. Eve banged off the patterned wall before slumping her shoulder against it, gasping. Her leg was throbbing in time to the words running through her head. This is your fault.
‘Eve?’
She raised her eyes at the familiar voice, watched Cooper rushing towards her, concern etched in his features, arms outstretched, Eve unsure whether it was to embrace her or stop her from falling. She let Cooper’s arms reach her, allowed them to hold her, clinging to him like a lost child, grateful for Cooper’s support once again.
MacLean looked out of place. He was sitting in plain clothes on the brown leather armchair, Eve used to seeing him bent over dead people and dressed in white overalls. But they all knew it was more – that they were watching a professional struggling to report on the murder of a colleague, a friend.
‘The tongue …’ MacLean coughed, shifted in his chair, his eyes brimming. ‘The tongue was removed while she was alive. Same as the others, but the scene doesn’t appear to be staged in any way this time. They’re taking her to the lab. But my initial examination showed no signs of a puncture wound.’
Those last words hit Eve square in the gut. Confirmation that for Sanders there’d been no hallucinations or escape. Her mind had been alert and in that room with the killer, no need for any drug to cause paralysis. Eve’s leg jittered, brushing against Cooper’s, who sat on the sofa beside her, his hand covering hers, Mearns by her other side.
They all looked out of place sitting there – uncomfortable in the front room of Hastings’ home in Hazlehead, where money was evident and the streets clean. Barely two hours since they’d found her. Their boss trying to make this easier, somehow thinking being here would feel better while the rest of the city still slept. Better than being at Queen Street HQ. Eve wanted to laugh; brittle, broken bitterness wanting to burst from within her. Nothing would ever make this better.
She watched her shoe knocking against the polished wooden flooring, as she refused to cry. She wanted out of here, to break free of this crap, but she didn’t trust herself to stand.
‘Wait a minute …’ Her brain kick-starting into gear. ‘Hardy. Have—’
‘Yeah, we checked in with Ferguson.’ Mearns had read her mind. Eve wondered if she’d spoken to him, questioning again whether there was more between her and Ferguson than Mearns was letting on. ‘Hardy didn’t move an inch last night.’
Eve felt like she’d been punched. ‘Is he sure? What about the back door, a window?’
‘He’s sure.’ Mearns spoke softly but with enough of an edge to try to convince Eve.
Was she defending Ferguson? Eve didn’t know what was going on but let MacLean continue.
‘I estimate that she died within a half-hour window before Archie arrived home …’
‘This is bullshit. It’s Hardy,’ Eve hissed through clenched teeth. ‘Ferguson must’ve missed something.’ Eve leaned forward, ready to fight her point – until Hastings lifted an arm from the armchair he sat in, silencing her. ‘It’s not him, Eve. Let it go.’
Eve moved to stand, to challenge her boss, but Cooper’s arm was on her with a strength Eve was unaware he had, and one that made her rethink.
When Hastings spoke again, it was without anger. ‘I can have someone take you home, Eve. Everyone will understand.’
Eve stayed seated, forced herself to set Hardy aside for the moment. ‘I’m staying. Why was she on her own?’
‘Archie’s cards night.’ Cooper didn’t sound like Cooper. ‘They got a nurse to come in on a Thursday to let him meet friends.’
A recollection of Sanders telling her about the nurse teetered on the edge of Eve’s memory as she listened.
‘The nurse would keep Sanders company, get her ready for bed. Sometimes she waited with her until Archie got home. A couple of times she left because Sanders wanted a little time on her own before he got home.’
‘Left her?’ Eve’s pulse pounded in the side of her neck.
‘The nurse is in bits. Blames herself.’ Cooper’s voice was a monotone.
‘She should.’ Eve spat the words, instantly regretting them, not wishing on anyone what she’d gone through with her own guilt about Sanders. She shook her head. ‘Why the hell would you leave her on her own?’
Hastings stood, walked over to the fireplace. ‘We all know it was pointless arguing with Sanders. If she was ready for bed, and Archie was due home at a certain time, the nurse saw no reason not to let her have a little independence.’
Eve tutted, looked over to her boss standing by the stone surround dominating the wall. He was leaning on the cluttered mantlepiece, his elbow jostling for space amongst framed family photographs. It looked as if it was his habit to stand there – or perhaps it was because otherwise he’d be in danger of falling over. The night had taken its toll on all of them.
‘Even though, sir, surely someone had to be with her at all times?’
Hastings looked uncomfortable. ‘Sanders had access to an alarm. The nurse wasn’t concerned, said she’d asked
to watch some drama she’d recorded, wanted to catch an episode before Archie got home.’
‘An alarm? Did she—’
‘No.’ Mearns cut in, expecting the question. ‘Could be that she didn’t get time to.’
Eve felt something stirring in her stomach. The words she was trying to squeeze out threatening to stick in her throat. ‘Or it could be that she knew her attacker but trusted him. She arrested Hardy, remember?’
No one spoke, trying to digest what that would mean, before the deep, hollow ring of the doorbell broke into their thoughts. Her boss left the room and then Eve spoke, not loud enough for her voice to carry through to him. ‘Surely you guys aren’t buying into this shit about it not being Hardy?’
‘What are we supposed to do if Ferguson says he didn’t move?’ Cooper shrugged but didn’t make eye contact with Eve.
‘We don’t take it. We go in there – question him, the aunt, Rosie. Put the pressure on.’ Eve shut up as Hastings walked back into the room, someone following behind from the hallway. It took a moment for Eve to register who. ‘What are you doing here?’
Ferguson’s eyes widened. ‘I was told to come.’
Eve glared at her boss. ‘You ordered this? Told him to leave Hardy’s?’
Hastings clenched his fists, a steely glint creeping into his eyes. ‘Eve. I said to drop it. We don’t have anything on Hardy.’
‘How can we be sure? What if he did manage to get past Ferguson? What if he’s gift-wrapping Sanders’ tongue right now?’ Eve was giving in to the rage, the grief. Letting it engulf her, feeling like she was in danger of drowning but couldn’t stop it. She was aware of herself, from a distance, shouting in her boss’s face. ‘Jesus Christ, what if he’s already out there, stalking the next one?’
‘Enough.’ Hastings had turned red, was almost nose to nose with Eve. ‘We don’t have anything on him and that’s the end of it.’
Eve glared at Ferguson, who stood there looking at Mearns, perhaps feeling sure she’d be on his side. She felt the familiar rage building inside her. She had to calm down, get away.
Hold Your Tongue Page 20