Darkness Looking Back, The (21 page)

'
MONTHS
? HALF THE women in the city will be dead by then!'

'Sorry, Andy,' said Kirkpatrick. 'That's bureaucracy for you. At least it's Malaysia and not China or Russia or something. Trying to get anything out of
them
is like bashing your head against a brick wall.'

Stirling kicked his toe rhythmically against the corner of Kirkpatrick's desk, full of pent-up frustration.

'So Interpol's basically a no-go then. I hope we'll have caught him by the time
they
come through.'

'That's the way to look at it. Whichever one it is. I'll see if we can't assign someone to look out for Lena, okay?' His expression cheered slightly, and he sat up straighter. 'But we have got
one
bit of good news. It's definitely not Stuart Fletcher. Believe it or not, his ex provided an alibi.'

'You're kidding.' In all the latest mess, Stirling had forgotten the banker.

'She came in to tell Willy. On the night Charlotte Hiscocks was killed, Fletcher was out of his mind drunk, trying to get his wife to take him back. That's the irony — she was actually on the point of calling us. Poor sod doesn't even remember.'

'And she's telling us
now
?'

'She knew he was a suspect, but she never thought it was serious. As soon as she found out, she rang to let him off the hook. She's still here, actually, giving John a statement.'

Stirling looked thoughtful. 'Guess she didn't hate him as much as she thought she did.'

As he was walking back down the corridor, he bumped into Rees.

'What are you doing at work so early? I thought you were supposed to be off till one.' Rees checked his watch.

'I got a letter.'

'Dobbing someone in?' Rees's eyebrows shot up.

'Not quite. It was from the killer.'

'What
?
'

'It was sent to James Paxton.' Stirling took a chair in front of one of the computers, swivelling it to face Rees. Despite all he suspected about Rees, he couldn't help hoping the big man would make him feel better, as he used to. 'He threatened James's girlfriend if he didn't stop helping us. Looks like he heard about
Cross
and got a bit spooked.'

Rees frowned at the carpet and folded his arms. 'He could always have been
watching
, and got inspired. It was right after that that Shannon was killed.' He looked up and saw Stirling's expression. 'Sorry to offend you — I'm just throwing ideas out there.'

'You don't think James predicted anything, do you?'

Rees smiled. 'I'm a typical detective, I guess. I need evidence.'

Stirling didn't smile back. 'I used to think the same way you did. But if you'd seen what I've seen, you'd believe him too. Whoever leaked his name to the press should know that it isn't a joke. It could get him or his girlfriend killed.'

Rees nodded, his smile gone.

'This guy isn't scared of us, or anyone. He's killing women right under our noses, with all this public scrutiny. For God's sake, he's still taking them out of the same café! And people keep
going
there . . .' Stirling realised his hands were clenched. He shook his head.

'Look on the bright side — they get killed off, future generations get smarter. Survival of the fittest.' Rees looked at him more closely. 'So has Paxton told you the name of the killer?'

Stirling hesitated.

'Hello, Andy. Don't you ever go home?'

Stirling had never been more pleased to see Ciaran Paynter. 'Morning, Ciaran,' he said, forcing himself to look easy. 'Yeah, I'm putting in overtime. I'm owed a holiday and I need to make up with my wife.'

'Shame,' said Paynter. 'Women just can't understand playing second string to a dead person.' He turned a chair backwards and sat on it, facing them. 'So who do
you
think the guy is, Andy? I'm thinking of starting a bet.'

'I'm starting to believe more in our mate Huia,' said Kirkpatrick, appearing behind them. 'Believe it or not, I just got a phone call. There's a woman in an interview room. Says she was raped and beaten by Huia — left for dead. A report was filed a few years back, but she never gave us his name.'

Stirling stopped slouching. 'So why'd she change her mind now?'

'The media.' Kirkpatrick gave a wry smile. 'It wasn't the TV networks or the papers this time. Someone who doesn't give a shit about suppression orders was at the courthouse when Huia was up for bail, and it ended up on a blog. And guess who decided to screw us over a bit more and blurt it all out on the radio?'

'That
arsehole
Webb,' said Rees.

Kirkpatrick nodded. 'His suspension lasted a long time, didn't it?'

'So you think it really is Huia?' Stirling asked.

'He's cocky enough. He won't even give us an alibi for any of the murders . . . This woman certainly thinks he's it. She's damn scared.'

'I can't believe they let the little shit go,' said Rees. 'Some people just never get what they deserve.' His tone was slightly off.

'What if it wasn't any of them?' asked Paynter suddenly. 'What if it wasn't even a man? Have you considered a lesbian who
identifies
herself as a man?'

Everyone looked startled.

'You're a worry, boy,' said Kirkpatrick.

'No, no, think about it. It makes sense. She's killing cheating women because another
woman
stole her partner. This is all about jealousy, right? A man would kill the guy who stole his girlfriend. But who else but a woman would go round blaming the
other woman
? I'm telling you.'

Rees smiled. 'It's a nice idea.'

'And a woman would be more likely to let another woman into the house,' said Kirkpatrick. 'It's plausible. They've all been afraid of a
man
.'

'
And
if she had kind of a gruff voice, she could easily be mistaken for a man on the phone . . .'

'For God's sake, Ciaran, stop fantasising about lesbians. You couldn't get a straight woman to sleep with you, let alone one who hates men.'

Gardner stood by the doorway, scowling. He looked in an even sourer mood than usual. 'Have you listened to the 111 call he gave us? If that's a woman, then I'm Claudia Schiffer.'

It had to be a first — Gardner had actually made Stirling feel better.

'What are
you
doing back here?' Rees asked. 'I thought you were supposed to steer clear of the place for a while.'

Gardner pulled over a wheely chair and sat down as if he were trying to hurt it. 'No point now. He potted us.'

'
What
? The killer?'

'Did you call her Sergeant in bed or something?' asked Paynter.

'Oh, very funny, Ciaran. As a matter of fact, he recognised me straight away. Bloody
waste
of time. I knew it.' He crossed his arms.

'Hi everyone.' Nielsen came in, dressed to the nines in a skirt and heels, her face defeated. 'Anyone want a bunch of roses?'

Stirling stared at her. 'Oh, tell me he didn't.'

Nielsen nodded.

'There a note with them?'

'Sure was. How did it go, Ray? "Dear detectives, thanks for the laugh. Like the ring tone." ' Stirling remembered — 'The Pink Panther'.

Gardner smacked a desk with the fat of his hand, making them all jump. '
Bastard
. It had to be Huia. Who else would have recognised me?'

'Are you sure you didn't give it away somehow, Ray?' Paynter asked. 'I mean, no offence, but you're not exactly what I'd call the affectionate type.'

'Hey, don't blame
me
. Vicky was the one who was hamming it up. I felt like telling you sometimes, Vicky, but I couldn't exactly say anything in there, could I?'

Nielsen looked at him in disbelief. 'Maybe you just don't know what a woman in love looks like because you've never actually
seen
one.'

'I've pressed
your
button, haven't I?'

Stirling had never seen Nielsen lose her temper before. Her face flushed, and she slapped her palm down on the neighbouring desk. 'You could have leant over the table and told me whatever you liked, and it would have looked perfectly appropriate, but no, you just kept yabbering away with your opinions on everything else. No wonder the killer wasn't fooled — anyone would have thought you were in love with yourself!'

Gardner bared his teeth. 'Maybe I had to keep talking because you never said anything worth listening to the entire time! No wonder your husband works late.'

'Steady on, Ray,' said Kirkpatrick, with an anxious look at Nielsen.

She was pale now with rage. 'You're just a selfish, evil —'

'Here, here, what's all this about?' Woodward was standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed. 'I can hear you from my office.'

There was a moment's silence.

'Sorry, boss,' said Nielsen in a low voice, then hurried past him out the door.

Gardner looked a little ashamed.

Kirkpatrick sighed. 'I'll go see how she is.'

'It's all right, I'll go,' said Stirling. 'I want to talk to her.'

'What's happened?' asked Woodward, looking at the door. 'Graeme?'

Stirling saw the door to Nielsen's office swing shut. He gave two quick knocks to warn her, then, without waiting for an invitation, he pushed his way in. Nielsen was sitting at her desk, struggling to stop the tears rolling down. Stirling shut the door quietly behind him.

'He gets to everybody,' he said. 'You're just lucky you didn't punch him like I did.'

Nielsen wiped her eyes. 'I don't know why I'm letting it bother me. My kids are used to me working funny hours. But it was Sara's birthday yesterday and I couldn't even be hhh-ome . . .'

Stirling waited until the sobs quietened down. 'You're a great cop, Vicky. You've got so much more patience than I have.'

'It was all for
nothing
. That's what gets me.' She raised her red face from the desk. 'Usually I can handle Ray — we get on all right. I think he's a bit of a joke. But he wouldn't even let me read at his place, he just kept talking about the case. And then the flowers . . .' She shook her head.

'Sad when the only time we get flowers in our job, they're from a serial murderer.'

Nielsen actually smiled at that. Stirling was relieved.

'What did Brad say about you spending your evenings alone in an apartment with Ray?'

Nielsen rolled her eyes. 'He just laughed and kept texting me dirty suggestions.' She smiled, more easily, wiping her face. 'He's just busted a massive drug ring from Thailand, so he's in a great mood lately.'

Stirling felt a firework explode in his head. 'Hang on!' It was all he could do not to jump up and down. 'I'll bet Brad has a lot of contacts in Asia,' he said.

Nielsen gave him a quizzical look.

'Could he use his contacts in Malaysia to find out information on Arthur Wong?'

She narrowed her eyes, sitting up. 'I bet he could . . .' She looked at him sharply, now fully on the alert. 'You think he sent the flowers?'

'Let's find out, shall we?'

FOUR HOURS LATER, Stirling was back in Nielsen's office, actually feeling sick with anticipation. Brad was standing next to his chair, with an expression that said he hadn't come up empty, and the desk in front of him was full of paper. He was reading a fax still warm from the machine.

'There was a complaint filed against Arthur by his wife. She says he killed her dog.'

Stirling's heart stopped. 'Did they say why?'

'There was a nasty separation, apparently. He caught her screwing around with the chef in their restaurant. It's all in the report.'

Stirling exchanged looks with Nielsen, who was on the other side of her desk. 'And there's our motive . . .' His insides were filling with champagne.

'
Did
he kill the dog?' asked Nielsen.

Brad shrugged, shaking his head. 'They never found it. I had them double check. But I
did
find out what happened to his wife — she's still alive.'

'Did they talk to her?' asked Stirling.

'Yep. She says he killed her dog because it loved her more than it loved him. Oh, and get this. She says when Arthur came across her and the chef, he got into a screaming match and threatened them both with a cleaver. She would have taken out a restraining order, but as the guilty party, and the wife, she wouldn't have had much luck.'

'Bloomin' heck,' said Nielsen. She shook her head. 'Polite little Arthur. He was so lovely to us at the café.'

'Ha. Wait till you listen to what his wife had to say: "The only reason I got away from him was because I hid. We didn't tell him where we were going. We went to Brunei for six months." The "we" is her and the chef — they're still together.' Brad read the next line, and smiled. 'And you're gonna owe me big for this, Vicky.'

'What?'

'Guess when they were married? Just under two weeks before
Charlotte was killed.'

HOW COULD SOME people be so evil and look so normal? It never failed to give Nielsen the creeps. Her eyes fell on the photo on her desk, taken just this Christmas — the kids and Brad on a day at the beach. Parents knew nowadays, didn't they? The friendly youth group leader who took the kids out for ice cream, the old man who liked to feed the birds in the park, right by the swings. It could be anyone. Anyone.

Her cellphone rang suddenly. Breathing deeply to clear her head, she reached for the phone in her bag.

'Hello, Vicky Nielsen.'

The voice was quiet, as if afraid of being overheard. 'Hello, is this the detective who was in Parsifale this morning?'

Nielsen's pulse took off. 'Yes.'

'Hey look, I don't want to scare you, but do you have children?'

Nielsen's eyes went back to the photo. He was reading her mind. 'Who is this, please?'

'Oh sorry, it's Nathan. I work at the café.'

'Oh, right. How did you know I was a detective?'

Nathan sounded surprised. 'My boss told me. Weren't we supposed to know? We get detectives through all the time.'

Wong told him.
'What's this about my kids?' Nielsen asked sharply.

Nathan's voice was nervous now. 'Well, I'm just here closing up. Arthur's gone down to the bank to make a deposit. I was looking for some more rubber bands in his office, and I saw these photos . . . I can't believe this . . .' She heard him breathe into the receiver. 'You're in them. You and that other detective you were with. I recognise both of you together. And there's some other pictures of kids clipped to them. Really little kids. Didn't you say once you had kids? I remember you buying some extra . . .'

Nielsen's chest was hurting. 'How many?'

'Kids? At least two.' He sounded scared by her tone. 'I can't tell if one of them is the same as the other one. They've both got blond hair, but they could be the same kid. Sorry.'

Nielsen could hear her own breaths through the phone now. 'When do you expect Arthur back?'

'He can't be more than five minutes away. I'd better get out of the office.' His panic was coming through. 'Shit. I can't believe this . . . Um, do you want to meet me somewhere? I can bring the photos.'

'If you can get them out safely, I'll meet you in ten minutes.'

'Okay. I mean, maybe they're nothing. I mean —
Arthur
. There's no way. This is stupid!'

'There's a school just by you, isn't there? How about I meet you there? Ten minutes.'

'All right.'

Nielsen thumbed the off button and almost ran to the door. As she strode through CIB, she kept an eye out for Stirling. This was his catch too. She sped up, jogging to the door of his office, but when she stuck her head round, he wasn't there. He'd be sorry to miss this.

Nielsen made sure to get an unmarked from the garage, and tried not to speed too much as she drove. Between the heat and the nerves, her hands were sweating badly on the steering wheel. She switched on the air-con, directing it towards her face. Even the bottleneck felt twice as bad this afternoon. It seemed to take an hour just to get down Ponsonby Road. Nielsen heard herself humming, wired tighter than a mesh fence. At last the school crawled into view. She drove to the back, towards the reception area, and parked. The only people in sight were a couple of older kids bouncing a basketball.

She saw the movement just a split second before Nathan opened her door. She sucked in a startled breath.

'Hi,' he said, clambering in with a nervous smile. 'Sorry to scare you like that.'

'It's okay — we're both a bit keyed up at the moment.'

'Tell me about it.' He breathed out. 'Have you got backup?'

'Not at this stage. I'm not making an arrest just yet. Why?'

'I just found some extra stuff in the safe I think you might want to take a look at. Necklaces and things. It's really starting to give me the creeps.'

Nielsen, trying not to show her excitement, spoke calmly. 'You did the right thing calling me, Nathan. You have nothing to be afraid of. Did you bring the photos?'

'I was just grabbing a bag to put them in when he came back. Sorry.' He looked a bit less frightened now. 'But luckily he's gone home. I was there when he locked up. I can let you back in with my key, and we can both take a look.'

'All right.'

He took a look out the window at the road. 'Might as well leave your car here. Walking'll be quicker.'

Nielsen set the pace, walking briskly on her short legs. Nathan had to trot to keep up.

'This feels so unreal,' he confessed.

She smiled at him vaguely. 'Wait until you're a cop. After you've been to a few drug labs and gang houses, normal life seems completely unreal.'

Parsifale was in sight now, locked up and dark, but in the still bright sunshine it didn't look like the headquarters for evil. Nathan took a set of keys out of his pocket. After motioning Nielsen inside, he looked around carefully, then shut the door behind them.

'Cloak and dagger stuff.' He gave her a sudden fleeting smile, clearly trying to brighten the mood. There was something vaguely creepy about a café after hours, its chair legs pointing to the ceiling on top of the tables, cases empty, the clink of cups and noise of chatter missing.

Nathan led the way into the office, snapping on the light. It was small and windowless, with the usual in and out trays, and invoices clipped together and pinned to a cork board on the wall. Much the same as Nielsen's own office.

'The stuff's in the safe,' said Nathan.

Nielsen realised she was holding her breath as he wound the dial. The safe opened with a clank, and Nathan pushed open the thick metal door, crouching to take out an ordinary-looking cash box. He turned round and set it on the desk, then looked up at Nielsen.

'I wondered why he'd got another cash box lately. I thought it might have been a spare or something, and there wasn't any key. But then when I was looking through the drawer after finding those photos, I found one and tried it out.' He held up a little square silver key, and stuck it into the lock. 'Tell me if these look familiar.'

As he lifted the lid, Nielsen saw a necklace, just a plain curl of silver on a chain. Lying on top of it was a ring, set with a bright green stone that looked like peridot. A chunky pendant made of shell lay in one corner, with another, plainer ring beside it. Nathan stretched out a hand to take a closer look, but Nielsen quickly took hold of his arm.

'No, you don't want fingerprints on them. You might get rid of any other prints.'

Nathan quickly dropped his hand.

'There's no chance these could just be valuables that have been left behind?' But Nielsen knew how ridiculous that sounded. What was the likelihood of two people leaving rings behind, let alone two necklaces as well? She wasn't surprised when Nathan shook his head.

'No, the lost and found's all on that shelf.' He pointed and behind her Nielsen saw a sad collection of baby toys, a neatly folded cardigan and a couple of single earrings, next to a pair of designer sunglasses. No other jewellery.

'Now show me those photos.'

Nathan nodded. 'Wait here. I hid them in a paper bag behind the till.'

Nielsen looked at the jewellery again, especially the rings, remembering the indentation on Shannon Lawrence's finger. She slowly strolled around the open safe door, peering inside, trying to spot God knew what among the bags of change. The rings would be enough for a search warrant, and for a case to be brought, but she wanted more, especially because of the photos. The photos of her own damn kids. Sara had just turned three . . . Nielsen's fingers flexed. She wanted his cell locked so tightly the door rusted shut.

A soft footstep announced Nathan's return.

The safe door slammed shut on Nielsen's head just as she started
to turn. Woozily, she registered the blinding pain at the same time as a hand
cupped the back of her head and rammed it back into the door.

THE SOUND OF his cellphone going off was a welcome respite from the acres of case notes and sod all. Gardner massaged his sore neck as he picked up.

'Sergeant Gardner . . .'

PAXTON WAS FLOATING in the darkness. Voices came from all around him, through his ear and straight into his mind.

I thought he was good . . . I knew his face.

It's okay, Alicia. It's okay. Just tell me what happened.

She didn't respond.

Alicia, I need you to help me. If you —

The sudden ringing made Paxton's head jerk up, so fast that he cricked his neck.

'Ooh!
Christ
!'

He sat for a few seconds, wincing, until the pain receded. He'd been sitting so long in the same position that his whole body hurt when he unfolded it. Alicia and the others were gone now.

It was Stirling. 'Hi James, how are you?'

'Exhausted. I haven't stopped to eat anything since breakfast.'

'Been trying to get hold of Shannon again?'

'Yeah. Not much luck with her, but I've kind of got bits of the others, through her. They're all linked now, you see. All tied to the same killer . . .' He rubbed the left side of his face.

'Did the name Arthur come up?'

'Pardon?'

'I just rang to tell you. He caught his ex-wife cheating with one of his staff. That's why he came here. It was getting too hot for him back home.'

'It all comes back to the café. That much I know. He's like an evil spirit over the place. But I can't tune him in.'

Stirling seemed to be thinking. 'He thinks he's doing some good, right? He thinks he's saving other men from being hurt by these cheating women. In his own mind, he's doing something truly . . . I don't know. Charitable. Does that make sense?'

'Yeah. I guess you could be right.'

'And someone saw a man take Arthur's ex's dog just a week or so after she moved in with her lover. It's never been seen since. But God it's annoying — we still don't have enough for a warrant.' Stirling sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth. 'All we can do is keep an eye on him, and wait. By the way, I've spoken to my boss about the letter you got, and he's getting an officer to look after Lena, all right? I've given him her number.'

'Thanks, Andy.'

'Arthur or George, the guy's bloody dangerous, James. Just because he's mad doesn't mean he can't be clever. Keep your eyes open. If anything happens, give me a call.'

'I just wish there was something I could
do
!'

Stirling sounded tired. 'Yeah, I know.'

PAXTON DRIFTED AIMLESSLY over to the sink, washing the black ink off his hands, then opened the fridge. There was last night's leftover Chinese, which he put in the microwave. He sat at the table while it was heating, aware of the absolute emptiness and stillness of the place. Now he knew how Lena felt, all by herself in the house. He felt a low-grade nausea. Just worry, or his growing awareness of the killer? Whatever the man did was poisoning his bloodstream. He was so close he was getting beneath Paxton's skin.

Paxton wondered how Lena was, but with Mandy there, he didn't dare to call. He hadn't realised how accustomed he'd become to having someone to talk to. He tried to watch TV, but it only half held his interest. He should have been working tonight. Without that, without Lena, and with this horrible feeling trying to get his attention, he didn't know what to do with himself. At midnight he still wasn't tired. The ringing of the phone wasn't a relief but a shock, sending Paxton jumping out of his skin. He looked at the clock on the stove as he picked up. 12:36.

'James! Thank God. Are you okay? Have you seen anything?' Lena's voice sounded breathless and frightened.

'No, why?'

'Please come over here, now. As soon as you can.'

'What's wrong?'

'He found me! He knows I'm here!'

'What
?'

'He left me something. Please, just come.'

'Hang on.' Paxton was running out the front door like a shot when Glen, thinking it was a race, barrelled after him, barking.

'No!
Inside
, you stupid dog.'

He made a few sweeping movements to shoo the dog inside, but then reason took hold. He had no idea when he'd be back. Best to take Glen with him. He let the dog in the back seat, then reversed out of the drive with his foot almost fat to the floor.