Monument to Murder (35 page)

K
ATE SLAMMED HER
hand on her desk.

‘What do you want me to do?’ Hank asked.

‘The only thing we can do. Bail Kent out for further enquiries.’

‘You sure?’

She nodded. It wasn’t a brave decision. She firmly believed that whoever had taken Rachel had killed the others, so Kent was off the hook. Besides, she had to sleep. She just had to. She’d been working for thirty hours solid. Her concentration was dropping like a stone and it would only get worse the longer she went without rest. Asking Hank to take over, she set off for the B & B. Rachel was safe now. The other victims were long dead and another few hours would make no difference to the case.

As she drove, the macabre image of a little girl’s tea party in that filthy lock-up kept going round and round in her head. It brought
to mind her father’s dead twin, the aunt she never knew. Mary’s death had affected him greatly. Still did, decades later. These two unconnected events and Rachel’s alertness in leading them to a crime scene had given her a glimpse into a killer’s past.

She called Jo.

‘You were right about an act of devotion,’ she said.

‘You found the lock-up?’

‘Yep, and I’m betting the person we’re after lost a daughter or sister at an early age. He’s marking an anniversary of some sort, as crazy as that sounds. A birthday in all probability. It means Lisa can now concentrate her efforts on the back record checks and search specifically for an incident involving a young child. I just wanted to thank you and let you know where we’re at.’ Her voice broke. When they were together, she often used to debrief with Jo on difficult cases and had always felt better for it. It wasn’t so easy now they were living apart. ‘Actually, I just wanted to hear your voice.’

‘Get some rest,’ Jo said. ‘You sound shattered.’

Kate wiped a stressy tear from her cheek.

Words failed her and she hung up the phone.

A
T THE
B & B, she fell into bed but couldn’t settle. After only three hours’ sleep, she showered and made her way back to the station, arriving shortly before four p.m. Ron Naylor was there when she arrived, her sounding board should she require one, he told her.

A hastily arranged briefing focused on Kent’s release on bail. There was universal agreement within the squad that he was an innocent victim rather than a perpetrator of murder. With no time to indulge that thought, Kate turned her attention to the two men still in the frame. She had reason to suspect Harrison and Walker and sufficient cause to make an arrest.

They were brought to the station under protest an hour later, Gormley and Carmichael interviewing Harrison, the DCI and Brown having a crack at Walker. But after two hours of intense questioning, neither pair were any further forward. Both suspects refused a request to take part in an ID parade, denying any involvement in Rachel’s abduction, the disappearance of Sophie Kent or the murder of Maxine O’Neil.

‘Well, that was predictable,’ Kate said as she left the interview suite.

‘Bail them out.’ Naylor was resigned. ‘There’s no hard evidence to hold them.’

‘Apart from the fact we know one of the arseholes is responsible,’ Hank scoffed. ‘Harrison was a dick throughout the interview. I could happily have punched his lights out.’

Kate was only half-listening to his tirade. In her mind’s eye she was picturing Walker in the interview room, his uniform on. It set her wondering what shift he was working, a plan forming in her head.

There was an alternative to a straight ID parade.

She looked at Maxwell. ‘Were they both at work when you picked them up?’

He nodded.

‘Any idea if they’ve gone back?’

‘They did. I dropped them off myself. Thought it was the least I could do, given that their vehicles were at the prison. Walker was quiet in the car but Harrison . . . well, let’s just say he didn’t shut up the whole way. He kept bleating on about an official complaint. Said the Governor was going to hang you out to dry.’

Kate shrugged. Like she gave a shit. She was used to being complained about.

‘I got the impression he started at two, if that’s any help, boss,’
Maxwell said. ‘So finishing at ten would be my best guess. Walker is probably the same. You want me to get on to prison admin and check it out?’

‘No, someone might tip them off. Call Jo and ask her to do it surreptitiously on my behalf. Do it right away. But tell her it’s strictly hush-hush.’ She looked at Robson, who was sitting beside the window, a flurry of snow falling gently behind him. ‘Robbo, assuming Neil comes back with the right answer, I want you to speak to division and organize a street identification at the prison at ten o’clock. If they argue about the lack of notice, just refer them to me. Tell them I’ll let them know when and where to collect the witness. I’ll sweet-talk Rachel. I’m sure she’ll agree to go through with another ID.’

Gormley and Naylor exchanged a grin.

‘If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain . . .’ Hank said.

He didn’t bother with the rest.

T
HE
A
REA
C
OMMAND
Inspector’s tone of voice was evidence enough that it hadn’t gone well. Two hours before the planned street ID it had begun to snow steadily and by ten o’clock he was dubious of a good outcome. Emily and Rachel met him in the prison car park, travelling under their own steam in Robert’s Land Rover. It was a smart move. The Traffic car reported all sorts of problems getting there. Regulations prevented Daniels from taking part, fairness demanding that she stay away. No chance to influence the witness, no fear of being accused of that. Fair enough, she thought, time to back off and let uniform sort it.

P
ARKING IN A
bay near the prison gatehouse, the man in charge looked out of his window as the Land Rover Defender pulled up alongside. The doors opened almost immediately, two females emerging, transferring to his car as instructed, brushing snow from their clothing as they slammed the doors.

As they waited for the shift change, the officer turned to face them, having a word with Emily, then telling Rachel exactly how it would go down when staff walked out of the gatehouse. That included the reason why she was there, even though it probably sounded like he was stating the obvious. Experience had shown that in circumstances like these it was advisable to be prescriptive.

There was no room for error. He didn’t want the witness doing or saying anything inappropriate, anything that might render the evidence inadmissible.

He smiled at the girl, an attempt at reassurance. ‘Rachel, you’re here to see if you can identify the man who abducted and held you captive in a garage in Northumberland. You must appreciate that you may not see the person responsible. However, if you do, you must indicate to me – in the clearest way possible – that you have seen someone you recognize. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, perfectly’

‘I can’t prompt you in any way. For example, I couldn’t ask is he the man in the red jumper or anything like that.
You
must describe and point him out to
me
: That’s him, he’s wearing a red jacket, a blue jumper, a yellow scarf or carrying a suitcase or whatever. Agreed?’

Rachel gave a little nod.

But as the minutes ticked by, the weather worsened. It was a complete white-out by the time the finishing shift trooped out. As they filed past the Traffic car en route to their own vehicles, they all looked the same dressed in uniform parka jackets with hoods pulled tight
around their faces. The whole thing was a bloody disaster, an outcome the Inspector conveyed to Kate Daniels at the earliest opportunity.

‘T
HIS IS
A
LPHA
O
NE
, ma’am. No joy here, I’m afraid. We weren’t able to make a street ident. By the time the shift cleared the gate they all looked like Nanook of the North. It was impossible for Rachel to tell one from another.’

Kate punched her steering wheel in frustration.

‘OK, return to base,’ she said. ‘And thanks for the assist.’

‘Don’t thank me yet. I was clocked by security in the car park. They kicked up a fuss when I arrived, gave me a bit of earache for not clearing it with them first. Think you’re in for the high jump for not giving them any notice, ma’am.’

‘That’s received, Alpha One. I’m shaking in my boots. Actually, I’m on my way there now to eat humble pie. Apologies if you got it in the neck.’

Parked just a short distance away, Kate had already received a summons from the Governor. He was screaming for answers, wanting to know why she’d locked up three of his bods, thrown them out again and then positioned a Traffic car on his doorstep without a word in his shell-like. She was about to tell him to butt out. It was prison service property, that was true, but she was on police business, investigating a very serious matter. He’d just have to put up with her doing her job.

Well, almost.

Naylor wanted her to wear kid gloves and calm troubled waters. She hoped the Governor wouldn’t turn out to be a prat or she’d find that extremely difficult in her present mood. With very little rest in the last few days, she was exhausted and ready to call it a day. ‘Can you ask Rachel and her mother to hang on for me, Alpha One? I’ll rendezvous with them in the car park in five.’

‘No problem,’ came the reply. ‘Sorry we weren’t able to help this time.’

‘Don’t worry about it. You did your best.’

Half a mile from the prison, Kate passed the Traffic car going the other way. He flashed his lights in lieu of a wave. She did likewise and drove on, arriving a few moments later. Emily and Rachel were sitting in the Defender in the staff car park. Pulling up alongside, Kate wound her window down and offered a few words of apology for another aborted attempt at identification. Then she made her way into the jail to keep her appointment.

T
HE
G
OVERNOR WAS FURIOUS
. He had every right to be. It wasn’t every day that a member of staff was locked up by the Murder Investigation Team, let alone three. But he was an OK bloke and – without giving too much away – she managed to placate him. Her investigation had been an arduous one, an intense couple of weeks, but she reassured him that it was as good as over with just a few loose ends left to tie up. That was stretching the truth a bit, but he accepted it with good grace, even offered to walk her from the admin block to the main gate.

No hard feelings.

They fell in step, chatting about the recent spate of bad weather as they walked. But as they neared the gatehouse, Kate stopped listening to the man by her side, or rather his voice faded out of her consciousness as she noticed something odd through the chain-link perimeter fence . . . Emily’s Land Rover was only just pulling away. More worryingly, there was someone following . . . a suspicious second vehicle . . . skirting the car park . . . no lights on. Kate did a double take – just to be sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her – then she started running.

C
HARGING INTO THE
gatehouse in a panic, she banged loudly on the inner security window. The duty officer jumped to attention, abandoning his newspaper when he saw the Governor racing into the building behind her.

‘Rewind the CCTV!’ Kate yelled, pressing her ID to the glass. ‘Now, man! DO IT!’

Taking his cue from the Governor’s nod, the officer did as she asked.

Three pairs of eyes scanned the image as it rewound at speed until Kate told him pause it, then run it on at normal speed.

‘Freeze it there!’ she said.

Pressing the pause button again, the officer stopped the tape, leaving the image of the unlit car on screen. Without being asked to do so, he zoomed in on the car. One person only inside.

Instinctively, Kate knew who it was.

‘Let me out of here, quick!’ She moved towards the exit. ‘Call for backup and keep hold of that tape.’

It seemed to take for ever for the inner and outer doors to open and close. Then she took off, sprinting to her Q5. She started the ignition and sped off like a woman possessed.

The narrow country lane was winding and unlit, the Q5’s wipers struggling to cope with the bleaching snow. Each load that was wiped away was quickly replaced by more big white flakes that settled on the windscreen, obscuring her vision. Peering through it as best she could, she did a double-take, closing on a sight up ahead that was confusing: white lights rotating in the darkness.

‘Shit!’ Panic set in.

As she depressed the brake, slowing the Q5, her phone rang.

‘I know who did it,’ Carmichael said.

A
S SOON AS
she got home, Emily told Rachel to set the fire while she went into the kitchen to make some tea and toast for supper. Twenty metres short of her driveway, moving headlights changed direction and stopped. The lights were cut. A car door slammed shut and a figure moved swiftly towards The Stint on foot.

D
ANIELS HARDLY HAD
time to digest what Carmichael had told her before the image up ahead became clear. The lights she’d seen were the headlights of a car, flipped on its roof and spinning in the road like a breakdancer. Applying the brakes sent her bag and other items shooting forward into the foot-well. The Q5’s backend slewed across the road and she had to compensate by steering into the skid before finally bringing the car to a halt.

Putting her hazard warning lights on, she got out, the phone still in her hand as the spinning vehicle came to a graceful stop. It wasn’t Emily’s car, or the suspicious vehicle that followed her from the prison car park – the same vehicle she suspected of colliding with this car and causing it to crash.

Steam was billowing from the engine of the upturned car and there was a strong smell of petrol in the air. The driver was trapped inside.

Kate swore under her breath.

‘Boss?’ Carmichael was yelling down the phone. ‘Boss? You OK?’

‘Lisa, I’ve come across an RTA. Get on to Control. I need immediate assistance.’ Giving her exact location, Kate took a mini-Maglite from the door pocket of the Q5 and scanned the scene. The crashed vehicle’s front windscreen was out – a side window too – but there were no passengers as far as she could tell. ‘I have one casualty, but there may be more. Ambulance and fire service personnel required.’

‘Leave it with me,’ Carmichael said. ‘I’ll sort it.’

‘Lisa, Emily is in danger. A suspicious vehicle tailed her from the prison. I was following when I came across this lot. The prison should’ve called for backup already, but tell Control they’ll need to find another route through Felton. The stricken car is sideways on. The B6345 west of Acklington is completely blocked.’

F
EARON TRIED THE
front door. It was locked. Silently, he moved round the rear and saw Emily through the window. She’d nicked her finger on a bread knife and was searching in a cupboard for something to put on it, leaving the knife unattended on the bench.

Stealthily, he moved away.

When Emily heard the window break, she froze.

Rachel!

Her eyes darted to the knife block. She grabbed the largest knife there and bolted from the room, reaching the living-room door just as it slammed in her face. She tried the handle but it wouldn’t budge.

I
N THE LIVING
room, Fearon kept his shoulder to the door. Grabbing Rachel by the hair, he pulled her head to one side so it was almost parallel with her shoulders. He stared deep into her eyes, sniffing her perfume, the same one her mother wore. The girl was too terrified to struggle, her whole body rigid, eyes fixed on the cold steel blade in his hand.

‘Walter, please listen to me,’ Emily called through the door. ‘Let my daughter go. Take me instead. That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve always wanted. Mr Stamp told me so.’

Emily wished Martin were here now. She was calm, despite the sound of Rachel’s hysteria from the other side of the door. Careful not to make a sound, she searched the drawer of a small side table. Finding the key she was looking for, she moved to the cupboard
under the stairs and opened the gun cabinet Robert had fitted against the far wall. Removing the shotgun with trembling hands, she fumbled in her first attempt to load the ammunition. Cursing under her breath, she tried again, determined to do whatever was necessary to protect her only child.