Last Gasp (25 page)

Megan sounded scornful. 'Tracy?
Don’t be ridiculous Jamie. I’ve never heard anything so absurd.'

Her reaction was what he’d anticipated, but he wasn’t going
to push too hard - yet. He didn’t want the barriers to come up.

'How do you know about Tracy anyway?'

He waited, letting her work it out.

'Jess.'

He nodded.

She gave an apologetic look. 'It was a bit of silliness. It
shouldn’t have happened.'

'It doesn’t matter. Tell me about Tracy.'

She went quiet, thinking on it, then began. 'Her name’s
Tracy Redmond. She lives somewhere over in the Cheadle area.’ Over the next few
minutes she told him what she knew. It wasn’t much. Tracy had been coming to
see her for around eighteen months. She was into the fantasy of enforced,
sexual-slavery. Every now and then, she liked to play the part of Megan’s
house-slave for a few days, a good deal of it spent chained up in the Playroom.
She left her off the list she’d given Jess because Tracy was sensitive about
her position. She was a barrister, or so she’d told Megan.

He asked if she ever showed interest in switching.

'Never,' she said, but then caught herself.

'What?'

'Did Jess mention, Arthur?' His bewildered look was answer
enough. 'He’s another… special friend. He was there the same night I introduced
her to Jess.' Carver sighed, wondering what else they hadn’t told him.
'Sometimes I make Tracy top Alex. It’s part of the game.' Carver waited, saying
nothing. 'I think she enjoys it.'

He asked for Tracy’s address. She said she didn’t know it.
Seeing his sceptical look she said, 'Honestly, Jamie. She’s never given me her
address. She’s a bit paranoid about being found out. She says it would ruin
her.’ Megan brightened. ‘But I’ve got her mobile number.' She left the room and
came back with her mobile. Brought up a number, showed it to him. He rang it
through to the MIR, telling the duty DS to run an urgent subscriber check. When
he came off the phone he saw her confused look.

'You’ve not told me what this is all about yet. Why are you
suddenly so interested in Tracy? And what’s happening about Cosworth?'

He thought about how much to tell her. For her safety, it
was time to fill in some of the gaps. He told her about the blonde hairs, the
CCTV footage Alec had found, what he’d learned from Franky, though he left out
the bit about Edmund Hart. As he spoke her eyes widened, As Jess’s had done.

He spread his hands. 'It could all be coincidence. But you
can see why we’re interested.'

She nodded, but still looked doubtful. 'If… if somehow Tracy
was involved in some way, why hasn’t she done anything to me before now? She’s
had plenty of opportunities.'

Carver remembered Cleeves’s theory about the killer leading
up to something. 'There’s a theory the killer could have a grander plan. Maybe
you’re part of it.’ She shuddered, and the thought he’d frightened her gave him
a strange feeling. He lowered his tone. 'There’s something else.' She sat up,
gave him her full attention. 'Gary Shepherd’s disappeared.' Her brow furrowed.
'He’s not been seen since he came to see you.'

For long seconds she did a good job of not giving anything
away. But her silence and too-calm reaction spoke volumes. She lifted a hand to
her mouth.

'What?' he said.

She hesitated. Once before when he’d caught her out, she’d
looked abashed. He saw the same look now. She took a deep breath.

'The night Gary came to see me, he was being… I didn’t like
the way he was. I thought he needed teaching a lesson.'

'What sort of lesson?'
Surely not-

'He was being… superior. Acting like a prick. I decided to
show him how foolish he was.' She avoided his gaze, bowed her head.

'You didn’t…?' She nodded quickly, her hair bouncing and
shimmering.

'I took him into the Playroom. Tracy was there.'

'Ohhh Shit.' Carver said. He hardly dared ask. 'Spare me the
details, but what happened?'

'I shouldn’t have done it, but he was being such an arse.'
She actually looked contrite. 'I played with them. I made sure he knew I don’t
like being treated like an idiot.'

He couldn’t believe it. 'You and Gary? And this Tracy?' He
slumped back in the sofa, not sure whether to laugh or cry. But Gary
disappearing afterwards left no room for humour. 'What happened after?'

'Tracy was planning to go home that evening. I was supposed
to drive her. Because she was late, Gary offered to take her.'

'She left with him? Oh, Christ.'

She tried to sound reassuring. 'Believe me, Jamie. I know
her. I’m sure his disappearing isn’t anything to do with her.' But there was
less confidence in her voice than there had been.

'Are you sure you don’t have her address?' He let a doubtful
note sound. 'Gary’s life might depend on it.'

But she seemed in earnest when she said, 'Honestly, Jamie.
You can search the house. If I had it, I would give it to you, if only so you
can rule her out. I’m sure when Gary turns up, you’ll find it’s nothing to do
with her.'

His phone rang. He listened for a few moments, then said,
'No, thanks. I’ll get back to you.' He put it away, frustrated. 'Tracy’s
mobile’s a pay-as-you-go. We can’t trace the subscriber just off the number.'

'What if I ring her?' she said. 'I could make an excuse to
see her.'

'Good idea.' They agreed a story and she called the number.
The voice said that the phone wasn’t in use or may be switched off.

'Damn,' he said. 'I’ll get our tech people onto it. They may
come up with something.'

Drained by the day’s succession of revelations, he rubbed at
his forehead. A dull pain was starting.

'Let me get you something,' she said.

She poured him a Jameson’s and came and sat next to him on
the sofa. He remembered her fragrance. Shalimar.

'This must be so difficult for you all,' she said. ‘And I do
hope Gary’s alright. I know you and he don’t see eye-to-eye, but I’m sure you
wouldn’t wish him any harm.'

He shook his head. She was right. Whatever his thoughts
about Shepherd, he didn’t like to ponder the possibilities if the last person
to see him alive was this Tracy, and it turned out she was connected with the
killings. Glancing at Megan, he could see guilt in her face. He tried to
reassure her.

'It isn’t your fault. You were just giving him what you
thought he deserved. Any other time it would be amusing.' His curiosity got the
better of him. 'As a matter of interest, how did he…?'

She flashed a wicked smile. 'Putty in my hands.'

'I can believe that,' he said. Again, he stifled the impulse
that nearly made him chuckle. She slapped his knee, playfully, but left her
hand resting on it. He drank his whiskey.

'It must be especially hard, for a man like you.' She rubbed
his knee, the top of his leg.

‘What does that mean?' He came on guard. But her face showed
only sympathy.

'I know what goes on inside that head of yours, Jamie
Carver.'

She lifted a hand to his left ear and combed some hair back.

He moved back. 'I don’t think so.'

She sat forward on the edge of the sofa, took his hand.

'I’ve been part of the scene for a long time, Jamie. I know
what men like. What they want.'

He made to get up, but she placed a hand on his chest and
pushed him, gently, back. He thought about resisting but the way she was
sitting, she might end up on the floor. He didn’t want to overreact and cause
an embarrassing incident.

 'It’s alright,' she said, 'Don’t be embarrassed. I knew
that first day. I could see the struggle within you.'

'Megan, I’m not-'

‘Shhh.’ She pressed a finger to his lips. When she spoke she
did so softly, almost a whisper. 'You saved my life, Jamie. I’d never hurt you.
I just want you to know, that I know.' She leaned into him, the finger replaced
by her lips. Not a kiss, an invitation.

Carver felt his heart thumping. There was a drumming in his
ears. But she seemed calm, utterly in control. Her dreamy eyes played with his,
burning into his brain, delving. Her breath mingled with his own.

'I can help, Jamie. If you want me to.'

He didn’t answer.
So beautiful
.

'
Do
you want me to?'

Somewhere deep inside, a voice he’d listened to once before
- in another life - cried,
YES
' He wrestled with it, trying to ignore
it. He’d known this moment would come one day. He’d steeled himself for it. But
it was harder than he’d ever imagined. She pressed her mouth to his, her tongue
encircling his as it had, briefly, that night. The memory of it had never left
him. But this time it lingered. She cupped a hand to the back of his head,
pulling him to her. His head swam and her scent was all around him.

He let go.

Suddenly she was in his arms and they were kissing, urgently.
His hands roamed over and under her dress, now holding her face, running
through her hair. She slid, easily, into his lap as they took each other’s
tongues, deep. She began to fall backwards, pulling him with her, down into the
sofa. He went to follow, but sitting up the way he was, he could only go so
far. He pulled back a little to adjust his position, scrabbling at his collar,
tearing at his tie.  Their mouths separated and as he yanked his tie off she
fell away from him, arms reaching out, eager not to let the separation last.

In that moment, as he looked down at her, and from where he
would never know, Rosanna’s face, sad with tears, swam before him. Suddenly he
saw the chasm into which he was about to disappear. He hesitated. As if sensing
what was about to happen she tried to claw him back. Too late.

He stepped away from the edge.

In one fluid movement, he lifted her off him, stood up and
deposited her gently back on the sofa, dropping his head and shoulders to slip
from under her arms. He moved quickly to the other side of the room.

'Jamie?' A hurt whimper.

'I’m sorry Megan. It’s not going to happen. And if you know
me as well as you say you do, you know why.'

She propped herself on an elbow, waves of glossy-black hair
falling, provocatively, over her face. She was heart-achingly desirable, and he
knew he had to get out, fast. Grabbing his jacket, he headed for the door.
Without stopping he shouted back over his shoulder. ‘'I’ll let you know if we
get anything on Tracy.' He slammed the front door behind him.

On the doorstep he gulped a
lungful of cool, night air, just as he’d done after the last time she’d kissed
him. He let it out slowly, and headed for his car.

Megan Crane remained sprawled across
the sofa for several minutes longer. She was smiling, but also berating
herself. She’d underestimated him. But she knew now she had been right. She had
seen it in his eyes. The hunger. The fear. If she’d played it a bit longer,
she’d have had him.

She gave a throaty chuckle. 'Next time it’ll be different.'

God, she loved this game.

The two detectives watched as the
Golf turned, wheels spinning in the gravel, and came down the driveway. Dan
Hewitt returned Carver’s quick wave, then he was gone, accelerating down the
track, rather quicker, Dan thought, than was good for the car’s sump.

'Bugger!' he said.

Tony Turner logged his DCI’s departure, then held out a
hand.

'You’re not very good at this, are you, Danny-me-old-mate?'

Dan fished inside his jacket. 'Only an hour?. He must have
had a knock-back.'

'Not our Jamie Carver,' Tony said. 'I told you, he’s
straight as a die. There’s no way he would get involved with someone like her.'

Dan Hewitt handed the tenner
across to his colleague. 'Well someone ought to tell him to lighten up a bit.'

Carver banged his hand against the
steering wheel. He was furious with himself for forgetting - again - the oldest
rule in CID.
Stay away from beautiful victims and witnesses.
He hadn’t
intended it would happen. That was all in the past. The present belonged to
Rosanna. But as he put the miles between him and his narrow escape, his
thoughts came round to Shepherd. They needed to find this Tracy, and quickly.
One thing was clear. Megan had kept things from them. What else was she holding
back? It was time to do what he should have done a long time ago.

He rang the duty DS again on hands-free. After briefing him
up, he issued three instructions. The first was to arrange a search warrant for
The Poplars. ‘Tell whoever it is she’s withholding personal details of a
suspect, and that there’s no privilege involved. Two. I want a POLSA Team
briefed and ready to go at six tomorrow morning. Third, call out the duty
Intelligence Officer. I want a full search and trace on a Tracy Redmond living
in the Cheadle Area. Give it a ten-mile radius. Oh, and she may be a barrister.
In which case it should be easy.' He waited as the DS wrote it down and
listened as he read it all back, then rang off. It meant another early start.
But at least they would have a few hours together. He remembered Jess’s words.
'Rosanna just wants you back.' Well it was time to come back. And to tell her.
Everything.

Half an hour later as he locked the Golf, he heard the
plaintive tones of Amalia Rodriguez, Rosanna’s inspiration, coming from the
cottage’ open window. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d played it. As he
walked in, her voice drifted through from the front room.

'Jamie?'

He walked through. Open on her lap was the bulky biography
of Maria Callas he’d given her for her last birthday. She let it slip to the
floor as she rose, smiling, to come round the sofa. As they embraced, a weight
lifted off his shoulders. He wasn’t sure when they would talk, but it didn’t
matter now.

'I got back as soon as I could. Things are happening and
I’ll need to be out early tomorrow. But it’s nice to be-.' He felt her stiffen.
'I know. I’m sorry. It can’t be helped. But we have the rest of the evening to
ourselves. Let me see you. You look beautiful.'