by Helen Phifer
‘Am I acting weird?’
‘A bit. Have you and him had a spat already?’
She shook her head. ‘Not yet, although I was just on my way to give him a piece of my mind. He’s useless.’
‘Come on, let’s get out of here – you can buy me a coffee before we go to the hospital and tell me what’s going on.’
She didn’t know if there was anything she could tell him; she didn’t have anything yet to tie all the cases together. However, coffee sounded like a good idea and it would be nice to get out of the station and give her brain some breathing space, a chance to get back to normal.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
He pinned the photographs onto his board and stepped back. He’d done it and it had gone without a hitch. It had been lucky the man hadn’t gone into his son’s bedroom first because he didn’t know if it would have worked out as well. As it was, he’d gone in to see his wife and once he’d turned on the light and seen her lying there he’d barely had a split second to react before he’d crept up behind and shot him in the back of the head. It had been a couple of hours after he’d killed the woman and child when the man had come home. He’d had to occupy himself, but he’d done it and hopefully without leaving behind any evidence.
Tomorrow, the last of the acid he’d ordered should be arriving. What a job it had been getting hold of that. He’d had to set up a company online as a drain cleaner, months ago. When it was delivered he should have enough to fill the forty-five gallon drum. It would have been a lot easier for John George Haigh to get hold of large amounts of sulphuric acid back in the forties than it was now. It was a popular choice for terrorists making bombs, so to ensure he didn’t arouse the suspicion of Special Branch he’d had to create the fake business: registering a domain, setting up a website and a business account, and ordering a whole load of other stuff he would never use along with the acid. Still, it was worth it – he didn’t know of anyone who would put in as much effort to recreate this next killing as he had.
The only problem he had would be getting the victim to his house; he didn’t want to take any risks. He’d given this some serious thought and concluded that it would be best if it were a slender woman, in order for the body to fit neatly into the drum – unless it was the homeless guy from the pier. He would fit, at a push. He just needed to find a way to lure him here. He still wasn’t sure whether it would be best to start by filling the drum with the acid, or to put the body in first and then pour the acid over it. It was probably safer for him if he didn’t put the acid in before the body. He didn’t think it would make any difference to the finished result. As long as the body was left in the acid long enough before the police found it, the plan would still work.
He realised that for the coppers to discover this next body, he might have to give them a hint – or maybe he should leave it somewhere blatantly obvious such as outside the police station. Surely, if he did that, they couldn’t miss it. Would this be the one that made them connect the murders? It was a possibility, but really he wanted them to figure it all out on their own without a helping hand from him. It was much more fun this way; watching and listening out to see if they had found anything. Of course, it helped that he had inside information.
Detective Inspector Harwin had no idea who he was – for now. That could all change if he made a mistake, which he wouldn’t. Up to now he hadn’t, so why should he worry that they were going to catch him any time soon? No, he just needed to focus on figuring out exactly where to place his next body and how he was going to get the victim to come to his house without arousing their suspicions.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Costa was quiet for a change and Lucy was grateful; she would be able to hear herself think. Mattie went to get their usual table, which was tucked away in front of a sofa in the far corner, near to the toilets. Lucy didn’t know any of the staff on shift today; Ellie worked here on Saturdays. She carried the coffees over to the table, where Mattie was staring down at his phone. He looked up at her from the sofa and smiled, taking his coffee from the tray.
‘So, then – this morning has been like working in an alternative station in a completely different world. The atmosphere has been terrible.’
Lucy laughed. ‘It hasn’t been that bad.’
He arched an eyebrow at her. ‘Maybe not for you. What’s the deal with the very temporary boss, then?’
‘I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.’ She was inwardly cursing Mattie’s intuition, but that’s why he was such a good detective sergeant. He didn’t miss anything. She thought about brushing it off once more, then decided it was easier to tell the truth.
‘I don’t trust Patrick. What has he done about the body found in the woods so far?’
Mattie shrugged.
‘I’ll tell you what: nothing. He was lazy when I worked with him years ago; it doesn’t look as if he’s improved much. Then they let him take over while Tom’s in hospital.’
‘So you don’t like him much and you’re angry he’s swanning around doing fuck-all?’
Lucy nodded.
‘Good, I’m glad we’ve cleared that up. Now what are we going to do to find the maniacs who are killing everyone?’
She sat back, relieved to be talking about a subject that she felt comfortable with. She’d rather discuss cold-blooded killers than her disastrous personal life.
They finished their drinks but Lucy didn’t want to move from the sofa; she was so comfy. The smell of the café always made her feel relaxed. Coffee was one of her favourite aromas – not to mention that she was brain-tired and bone-weary. Her head didn’t know which case to work on first, but something in her gut was telling her that if she could concentrate on Melanie Benson and go back to the beginning they might find something to help them.
Mattie stood up and held out his hand. Lucy took it and he tugged her up from the sofa, almost throwing her across the room.
‘You’re strong.’
‘And you need to eat more – that was like holding a bird. You’re wasting away.’
‘I’m not! My trousers are too tight.’
‘Good. Maybe you should buy the next size up and be comfortable.’
He walked out before she could hit him and she followed.
As she pulled on the plastic apron and gloves in the ladies’ changing room at the hospital, she felt as if she were living in some weird time warp. The same things were happening over and over again; she needed to get her act together and put a stop to it. There was no logical explanation for any of it, at least not to her. She imagined that whoever was doing the killing thought it was all very logical. She was the last to walk into the mortuary, where they were all standing around waiting for her.
‘Sorry. Is it just me or does anyone else feel as if they’re stuck? Like in that movie with Bill Murray, Groundhog Day? I feel as if my life is on one continuous loop.’
A multitude of heads nodded in agreement.
‘Good, I’m glad it’s not just me. It kind of makes me feel better.’
The door opened as the mortuary attendant wheeled in a trolley with a black body bag on it. The body inside was far too small to fill the bag. For a split second she thought about walking out of there; stripping off the plastic apron and the gloves, and running away. She didn’t care where to, as long as it was hot. Somewhere the people were happy and full of life. There was only so much death you could stare in the face before it got the better of you. She didn’t realise that she was swaying until Mattie reached out and grabbed her elbow to steady her. He leant towards her and whispered, ‘Are you okay, boss?’
She looked at him, her eyes wide, and whispered back, ‘I don’t know.’
Catherine pretended to be busy writing up notes, but Lucy knew that she was watching her and giving her a few minutes’ breathing space. The woman was a saint – how she did this day in, day out was nothing short of a miracle. Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, blinked a couple of times, then looked across at Catherine and nodded
. The doctor smiled back at her. The look in her eyes told Lucy that she got it and that it was perfectly fine to freak out now and again.
The body bag was lifted onto the slab, under the fluorescent lights. The bright-yellow plastic tag was checked and then cut off the zipper. Lucy steeled herself to come face to face with the small figure of Arran Martin for the last time.
Chapter Forty
He walked past the kiosk on the high street, which sold magazines and newspapers, stopping to look at the headlines on the local paper. There was nothing about the family, which was strange, although they’d probably printed the paper before the crime had been called in. In fact, it was highly likely – they lived in an unusually quiet neighbourhood. What stared back at him from the front page instead was the grainy black-and-white mug shot below the headline ‘Have You Seen This Man?’ He pulled a pound coin out of his pocket and picked up a paper, passing the money to the vendor, so absorbed in reading the article about Brooklyn Bay’s most-wanted, he didn’t even wait for his change as he wandered off. So that’s definitely where he recognised him from.
As he got into his car he was still smiling to himself. At this rate the police would never catch him; they were too busy putting all their resources into finding the wrong man. Which was good – very good – but he also craved attention and recognition for his brilliant work. He wanted to see the headlines splashed across the pages when they realised what a fucking genius he was. He desperately wanted someone to work it all out. He had high hopes for Detective Inspector Lucy Harwin, and going on her past record she would, or should, be the one to figure it out. Maybe he should stop believing that she was this good. He hoped she’d be the copper to realise what was going on because he didn’t want to have to start communicating with the rest of them. The last thing he wanted to do was to put it on a fucking plate to serve up cold for them. That would really anger him; it would undermine his sheer brilliance if the police were too stupid to figure out the connections between each kill. He supposed that was the trouble with being much cleverer than the average person – stupid was the norm.
He drove past the police station once more on his way home. He couldn’t help himself, even though he’d finished work for the day and should have gone straight home. He wanted to get a clear idea of the layout of the front of the building and the land around it. He’d never really taken much notice of it before, because he’d never had to. If he was going to be brazen and bold enough to leave his next victim outside in the car park as a calling card, he needed to know exactly where all the security cameras were.
Whoever had designed this building hadn’t taken into account the fact that the floor-to-ceiling wall of glass windows gave anyone outside the perfect view into the offices and of the staff who were working in them. The ground floor was like a beehive; so many officers dressed in black and wearing fluorescent yellow vests. They were flocking around computers or standing talking to each other. None of them was interested in who was outside in the car park watching them. He glanced up to the second floor, where there were lots of desks and people in plain clothes milling around – this was either CID or office staff.
Starting his engine, he slowly drove out of the car park, counting the security cameras. There were six. That was an awful lot of cameras to have just outside the front of a building, but with the state of the country today it probably still wasn’t enough. He knew what he would do; this place was like a ghost ship at night. The upstairs offices would no doubt be empty; downstairs, the staff would be out on patrol. If he used the van with his Drain Busters logo, he could get away with parking outside. As long as he had on overalls, a baseball cap pulled low over his head and a jacket that zipped up high, he would be able to park up, get the drum out and leave it in the best place to get noticed, and then he’d be straight out of there.
He would steal some number plates from the estate later on tonight; there was a man who sold second-hand cars and left them parked all over with big white ‘For Sale’ signs inside the windows. If he took them from one of the cars furthest away from any houses, no one would even notice, and if they did it didn’t matter. He knew the locations of the ANPR cameras that would ping the registration if he passed, and he didn’t need to go anywhere near them. This was a brilliant plan and he even had his victim now, thanks to that chance meeting on Friday night with Lewis Waite.
What better present for Lucy than to deliver her escaped fugitive to her in a barrel of acid. This was going to be a lot more exciting than the last killing; that had been a necessity. He hadn’t gained any pleasure from shooting the kid or his parents, if he was honest; the excitement came only from getting away with it. They were just pawns in his game of chess and they had served their purpose.
Chapter Forty-One
Lucy felt as if her life had stood still for the last seven hours. She’d forgotten how hard it was to stand up in the same position for so long. She walked out of the ladies’ changing rooms to see Mattie leaning against the wall waiting for her.
‘That was tough.’
He nodded. ‘It was very tough indeed.’
‘Should we go and see how the boss is?’
‘Great minds and all that.’
They walked down the long corridor and followed the sign for the intensive care unit. Lucy never even noticed Stephen who was talking to a nurse in the corridor, but he saw her and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pair of them. He watched her walk along the long corridor towards the Intensive Care Unit, until she turned the corner and was gone from his sight. The double doors that led into it were shut and Lucy pressed the buzzer. A nurse came to the door and Lucy showed her badge.
‘Tom Crowe is a close friend and colleague. Can you give us an update?’
The nurse scrutinised the badge. ‘Hold on.’ Then she shut the door.
Lucy stared at Mattie. ‘She did not?’
‘Yeah, she did. You know, a please or a thank you might have helped just the tiniest bit. Let me do the talking.’
‘I only asked a question.’
‘Yes, in your best Attila the Hun voice. Honestly, Lucy, your people skills are sadly lacking at times.’
‘I forgot, okay? All I can see in my head is Arran’s cold, white, frozen body. I’m not thinking straight.’
The door opened again and Alison came out, her face was pale and blotchy. Her eyes were puffy and she looked tired. She held it ajar so it didn’t shut and lock.
‘How is he?’
‘He’s okay, I think. They managed to keep him stable overnight. He opened his eyes before, so things are looking up.’
‘Can we nip in and see him?’
‘I don’t want you upsetting him or talking about work.’
Mattie grabbed Lucy’s arm, reminding her to let him talk. Lucy had to bite her tongue at the cheek of it – the woman standing in front of her was the one who’d been screaming at him when he’d collapsed.
‘We wouldn’t dream of it. We just wanted to say hello.’
Alison held the door open for them. ‘I’ll go grab a coffee while you’re here, although I doubt they’ll let you stay long; they keep kicking me out. He’s in the second bed on the left-hand side.’
She headed off in the direction of the relatives’ room and they walked into the ICU. It didn’t look like a normal hospital ward; it was more like an aeroplane hangar. It was much cooler in here than the rest of the hospital. There were beds surrounded by so much equipment that Lucy had no idea how the staff could even remember what to do with it all. Every bed had a patient; the noise from the machines filled the room. There were so many beeps and alarms going off – it was Lucy’s idea of hell.
Walking towards the bed to which Alison had directed them, her heart skipped a beat. Tom was a slightly better colour than he’d been the previous night when he’d collapsed, but he looked tiny in the big bed, attached to every piece of equipment there was. Standing close to the head of the bed, Lucy bent down and whispered ‘Hi.’
Mat
tie’s much louder voice echoed in her ear. ‘Boss, how you doing?’
Lucy looked at him, amazed he’d just asked like that. No pussyfooting around, straight to the point. Tom opened his eyes and smiled to see them both standing there.
‘I’m alive.’
‘Good – you almost gave us a heart attack, the state you were in.’
Lucy kicked Mattie’s shin, shutting him up.
‘You’re in the best place; they’re doing an excellent job.’
Tom stuck his thumb up at them, then closed his eyes. Lucy bent down again and kissed his forehead, whispering ‘I’ll find him.’ Then she stood up and nodded at Mattie.
‘Come on, we don’t want to tire him out.’
Mattie looked from Tom to her. ‘Bye, boss.’ He followed her as she pressed the button to let herself out through the doors.
‘Well, that was short and sweet.’
‘I just wanted him to know we were thinking of him. There’s nothing we can do, is there? And I don’t want him getting stressed out over work.’
Mattie nodded. ‘I suppose not.’
They left the hospital and walked out to the car park into the heavy downpour that had just started; they had to run to reach the car.
Lucy had to call it a day by five; she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She was grouchy and snapping at everyone, which in her opinion wasn’t exactly professional. She went to see Patrick, whom Browning informed her had been out all day and was now sitting at Tom’s desk. She had to ask him if it was okay for her to finish early, and the thought made her even more irritated. She also wanted to know what the hell he was doing towards getting a positive ID on the body from the woods. Had he even been to speak with Jenny Burns’ parents? She knocked on his door, then walked in before he had a chance to answer.