Deadly Game

by D. S. Butler

  Mackinnon made his way to Collins’ desk. “What’s going on?”

  Collins looked at Mackinnon’s bedraggled appearance and raised an eyebrow. “Is it raining?”

  “Very funny.”

  Collins smiled. “I do my best.” He pointed in the direction of Brookbank’s office. “Tyler is furious. The DCI has just announced Cracker is turning up.”

  “Sorry?”

  “A behavioural analyst. They’re supposed to tell us who we are looking for, you know, bullied as a child, trouble forming long-term relationships blah, blah, blah.”

  “I see. When are they supposed to arrive?”

  “Any time now, I think. Coffee?” Collins got to his feet, picked up his mug and started to walk over to the coffee machine just as the door to Brookbank’s office opened, and Tyler stormed out.

  His cheeks were red and he didn’t look at all happy.

  “Collins, you will be questioning Addlestone with me, but first we have the pleasure of talking to Ms Zelda Smith, who is going to provide us a tremendous amount of insight into our case.”

  There was no mistaking Tyler’s sarcasm.

  “Everyone, briefing room, now,” Tyler added, looking grim.

  As Mackinnon filed into the briefing room with everybody else, he got his first glimpse of the behavioural analyst.

  She certainly didn’t look anything like Robbie Coltrane. Her cool, blonde good looks were a marked contrast to Tyler’s harassed appearance as he walked to the front of the room and shook her hand.

  She was tall, slim and wore a beige trouser suit, and as she shook Tyler’s hand, she didn’t crack a smile. Although, to be fair, neither did Tyler.

  Tyler muttered a few words and then said in a louder voice to the rest of the room, “Let’s make a start.”

  Tyler began the briefing by bringing everybody up-to-date and giving them the latest information on Terrence Addlestone.

  When he had finished summarising the man’s character and background, he turned to Zelda Smith.

  “Do you think he fits the profile?” Tyler asked her directly.

  Her features tightened, and it was clear she didn’t appreciate being put on the spot.

  “Possibly. With the limited information I have to work with so far, it is hard to say for sure one way or the other.”

  Mackinnon heard Webb mutter behind him, “Well, that’s about as useful as a chocolate teapot.”

  “Right,” Tyler said. “Well, thank you very much for your input, Ms Smith. Now, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to draw this briefing to a close. Collins you’re with me. If the profiler can’t tell us whether or not Addlestone abducted the girls, we’ll need to find out the old-fashioned way, by questioning the suspect.”

  Chapter 37

  At that moment, Claire Watson was lying fully-clothed on her bed, worrying herself sick. Out there somewhere, some evil bastard had her daughter, and he was treating it like some kind of game.

  Claire was being forced to compete with another set of parents for her daughter’s life. What kind of sick mind could think up something like that?

  She’d been horrified enough to find herself prepared to throw paint over a random stranger, but it could so easily have been her with the container of acid. She couldn’t imagine how the other woman had felt in that situation.

  Claire closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She had to harden her heart against the other parents. She couldn’t feel sorry for them or imagine what it was like to be in their position because that would drive her mad.

  But, Christ, it must have been awful to throw acid over someone.

  She now knew how far the other mother was prepared to go for her daughter, which meant Claire had to be ready to go one step further.

  Peter was a wreck. He wanted to be the protector, the provider, but the abductors had snatched that from him. Not only had they taken his daughter, they had also taken his identity. Under different circumstances, Claire may have been more sympathetic, but right now, she didn’t have the emotional strength to deal with Peter’s crisis.

  She needed all her energy to focus on her missing daughter.

  In a perfect world, they would get both girls back, but nothing about this situation was perfect. If only one girl came back, Claire was determined to make sure it was Ruby.

  Usually, Claire was content to assume the role of nurturer and defer many of the family decisions to Peter, but not this time. They had taken her daughter, and she would fight to the death to get her home. Traditional marital roles and Peter’s identity be damned. Claire would not take a backseat in this. The police were trying to get both girls back, but when it came down to it, there was only one person she knew who would do absolutely anything to get her daughter back, and that was her. She couldn’t trust anybody else.

  Her mind reeled through the possible things the abductors could ask her to do next.

  What would be the next stage in this twisted game? Whatever it was, Claire knew she would do it without question.

  There was a knock on the bedroom door. She held her breath and sat up.

  Don’t get your hopes up, she ordered herself.

  But it was no good; she bit her lip as she rushed to pull the bedroom door open.

  “I thought I’d come and see if you were all right. I am sorry for what I said earlier,” Peter said.

  Claire hid her disappointment. She wasn’t interested in Peter’s apologies. She only wanted news about her daughter.

  “That’s okay. We are all under a great deal of stress,” Claire said mechanically.

  He smiled and reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “We need to stick together. We’re stronger that way.”

  Claire struggled to raise a smile.

  Instead of going back into the bedroom, she followed Peter out into the hallway and walked towards the open plan kitchen.

  Kelly, the family liaison officer, was there as usual. Her constant presence was already starting to grate.

  She smiled at Claire and offered her tea.

  Claire nodded. “Thanks. Tea would be nice. Is Curtis still in his bedroom?”

  Peter nodded.

  The phone rang in Peter’s study. He hesitated, but Claire told him to go and answer it. As Peter walked away, through the sitting area, the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” Claire said to nobody in particular and walked towards the front door.

  * * *

  Rob had approached the entrance to Drake House feeling absolutely terrified. He’d stared at the glass-fronted building and tried to control his nerves.

  He lifted the enormous bunch of flowers in his arms up high so they obscured most of his face, but it wouldn’t be enough. The amount of cameras they had in London these days meant he was bound to be spotted.

  Marlo hadn’t given him any instructions about what to do if he got caught, but Rob had already decided that if he was apprehended, he would tell the police someone had given him a tenner and asked him to deliver the flowers.

  Rob took a deep breath and then pushed open the glass door and stepped into the foyer of Drake House.

  A bored-looking doorman sat behind the reception desk. “Can I help you?”

  Rob licked his lips and looked around nervously, searching for the cameras.

  “You all right?” the doorman asked.

  Rob needed to get a hold of himself. The doorman was already looking at him with suspicion.

  “I need to deliver these,” Rob said, nodding at the flowers.

  “You’ll have to sign in,” the doorman said and pointed to a book on the reception desk. He handed Rob a pencil, and Rob scrawled his name in a scribble that wouldn’t be recognised.

  The security guard appeared to be satisfied. “Who are the flowers for?”

  “Mrs Watson.”

  For one horrible moment, Rob thought the doorman had sussed him out. He looked him up and down and then finally nodded and pointed behind Rob’s shoulder.

  “You want the lift on
the left. That goes straight up to the penthouse.”

  Rob thanked him and quickly walked off to the lift.

  He could feel the doorman’s eyes burning into his back and was convinced as soon as he was in the lift the doorman would be on the phone to the police.

  His hands were trembling as he stepped inside the lift and pressed the button for the penthouse.

  He felt sick to the stomach at what he was doing and was sweating so much his shirt was sticking to his back.

  He hadn’t thought it was possible to feel any more nervous, but when he stepped out of the lift into the lobby and saw the front door to the Watsons’ apartment, his stomach churned, and for a moment, he was convinced he was going to throw up there and then.

  He put a hand against the wall to steady himself and took a couple of large breaths, trying to calm down. He wasn’t helping himself by acting this way. He needed to get the job done and get out of there.

  If he got caught, God knows what would happen to Benny.

  On his way to Drake House, he’d gone past the nearest Chinese takeaway to see if he could find Benny, but there was no sign of him. But Rob wasn’t too concerned yet, he knew there were another couple of Chinese takeaways in the vicinity, and Benny could have gone to one of those.

  It wasn’t Benny’s absence so much as Marlo’s behaviour that triggered alarm bells.

  Something about Marlo just seemed off.

  Rob straightened up and walked towards the Watson’s front door.

  He held the flowers up high in front of his face, and holding his breath, he rang the doorbell.

  As the door opened slowly a lump grew in his throat, and Rob was scared he wouldn’t even be able to talk.

  The woman he recognised as Claire Watson stood in front of him.

  Thank God.

  That made things a little easier.

  It was the first time he’d seen her up close. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her hair was messy.

  “I am sorry to trouble you so late,” Rob said.

  Claire nodded, but she wasn’t looking at Rob, she was frowning at the huge bunch of flowers in his hands. He had to admit Marlo had been clever on that account. Nobody looked twice at a delivery driver these days.

  He held the flowers out to her, feeling like a lowlife. “Delivery for you.”

  “Who are they from?”

  “I… I am not sure,” Rob stammered. “I am just the delivery driver. There is a card, though.”

  As soon as Claire took the flowers, Rob turned away. He had to force himself to not run for the lift.

  “Wait!”

  Rob turned around with his heart in his mouth.

  She knew. He’d been made.

  It was all over.

  “Don’t you need me to sign something?” Claire Watson asked.

  Rob could have cried with relief. He shook his head. “Oh, no, there is nothing to sign,” he said and then turned around and dived for the lift.

  * * *

  At Wood Street Station, the investigation was still rolling inevitably onward. Interviews were being cross-referenced and entered into the system. A couple of team members had retired to get a few hours’ sleep. From now on, they would be working in shifts.

  He was starving and pleased to see Collins had ordered in pizza. Mackinnon took a slice of ham and mushroom and then stood beside Zelda Smith, the behavioural analyst.

  “You’re here late,” he commented.

  “Your DCI asked me to stick around,” she said pointedly, looking in disapproval at the pizza. “I know my ideas are not popular around here, but I am just doing the job I was paid for.”

  Mackinnon had clearly stumbled onto a touchy subject.

  He held up his hands and almost dropped the pizza. “I didn’t mean any offence.”

  Zelda Smith looked up at him with startlingly blue eyes. “Do you believe behavioural analysis can be helpful to police enquiries?”

  Mackinnon took too long before answering.

  “I thought so,” Zelda said wryly.

  Mackinnon frowned and swallowed his mouthful of pizza. “You didn’t give me a chance to answer. I’m for anything that can help us catch whoever has taken those two girls.”

  Zelda watched him carefully, and Mackinnon had the uncomfortable feeling she was analysing him.

  “It is not magic. It is science. I’m not saying I have all the answers, but along with all the other tools the police use in an investigation, behavioural analysis can help.”

  Mackinnon took another slice of pizza and offered the box to Zelda. She pulled a face and shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  “What’s your take on Terrence Addlestone?” Mackinnon asked, hoping to move onto safer ground.

  “You were the officer who first suspected him, right? I heard your Detective Inspector talking about it. You thought you were acting on instinct, but really you were performing your own version of behavioural analysis, just on a smaller scale.”

  Mackinnon shrugged. “He was twitchy, and he was definitely hiding something on that laptop.”

  Zelda nodded. “I believe you, but I don’t think he has the organisational skills or the narcissistic tendencies needed to create this game. If he was involved in the girls’ abduction, he isn’t the mastermind behind it.”

  Mackinnon took a bite of pizza. That wasn’t what he had hoped to hear. “The tech team have found photographs on his laptop. Surely that counts for something.”

  Zelda raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but they weren’t photographs of Ruby Watson or Lila George. They were photographs of Ruby’s friend from school, Kirsty.”

  Kirsty Jones, the girl Curtis had mentioned. Even if he wasn’t involved in the abduction, Terrence Addlestone was still in a great deal of trouble. Kirsty was in the same year as Ruby at City College, and Addlestone taught them both. Kirsty was eighteen now, but Addlestone would lose his job over the photographs found on his laptop, deservedly so in Mackinnon’s opinion.

  Mackinnon polished off his second slice of pizza and then shrugged. “True, but he was deleting stuff from his computer. Maybe the tech unit will be able to find more before the night is out.”

  Zelda smiled confidently. “Perhaps, but I’m sure he’s not the ringleader. Whoever they are, they are still out there.”

  That was a sobering thought.

  Chapter 38

  Claire Watson looked at the flowers with disgust. What good were sodding flowers? She had no idea who had sent them. Closing the door, she peeled back the cellophane around the flowers to get at the card and carried them into the kitchen.

  “Oh, they look lovely,” Kelly said.

  Claire smiled weakly.

  At least they weren’t lilies, she thought. Funeral flowers.

  “Shall I get a vase?” Kelly asked, trying to be helpful.

  Claire nodded. “There is one in the cupboard by the sink.”

  As Kelly bent down to get it, Claire opened the card and the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

  Another message.

  Claire only looked at it for a second before she crushed it in her hand and stuffed it in the pocket of her trousers. Kelly was saying something, but Claire wasn’t listening.

  She put a hand to her forehead, trying to concentrate. It was a message from the kidnappers, so did that mean the delivery man was involved? Did he know where they were keeping Ruby?

  Surely, he had to know something.

  She dropped the flowers on the floor and ran out of the kitchen and then the front door.

  She could see the lift wasn’t free. The delivery driver was probably still inside it, getting away and taking his information with him.

  She ran for the fire escape and took the stairs two at a time. She was vaguely aware of some voices behind her, but she ignored them.

  Then she heard Peter’s voice shout, “Claire? What’s going on?”

  But there was no time to explain. She still had another three sets of stairs to go until she reached the lobby.

&
nbsp; Her heart was hammering so hard she could barely breathe.

  Please let him still be there.

  She burst out into the lobby just as the delivery man was walking out onto the street.

  “Evening, Mrs Watson,” the doorman said.

  She ignored him and ran outside, frantically looking for the man who had brought the flowers.

  There he was, on the opposite side of the road.

  “Wait!” she screamed.

  He turned around, and she saw it on his face – – he knew.

  Claire ran. She had never been good at running, but the need to catch him and find out where Ruby was gave her the power to sprint.

  At first, she gained on him, but not for long. He was too fast.

  Peter was close behind her, and she could hear him calling her name, but she didn’t dare turn away in case she lost sight of the delivery driver. He was getting further and further away, but her lungs were burning, and her muscles were slowing already.

  Panting for breath, she pointed at him. “Someone stop him!”

  No one did. Passersby gave her strange looks as though she were a crazy lady.

  And then, in the blink of an eye, he’d gone.

  Disappeared.

  The street was dark, and Claire turned in a circle, unable to believe she had lost him.

  A bus went past. Did he get on that? Or had he darted into a side street?

  Distraught at losing sight of the one person who could tell her where her daughter was, she sank to her knees and barely noticed when Peter reached her side and tried to pull her up.

  “He knew. He knew.”

  That was the only thing she could say.

  “Who knew?” Peter asked.

  “The man who brought the flowers. He knew where Ruby was.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  Claire tried to explain about the look of horror on the man’s face when she’d confronted him.

  “Didn’t you see it?”

  Peter pulled back and shook his head. “No. I think you’re overwrought. I’ll call the doctor. Maybe he can prescribe something to calm you down.”

  “No!”