Deadly Vengeance: A gripping crime thriller full of twists and turns (Detective Jane Phillips Book 3)

by OMJ Ryan

  Robbins stumbled over his words. ‘Er, no. I wasn’t.’

  ‘I think you’re lying to me, John.’ Phillips opened her laptop and turned it to face him, then tapped the screen with her finger. ‘Because I believe this is you, captured on CCTV, walking towards Sam Cartwright’s house just moments before she died.’

  Robbins stared at the screen, his eyes wide.

  ‘Is that you, John?’

  Robbins’s mouth fell open as his eyes switched from the screen back to Phillips.

  Phillips brought up another still image taken from the CCTV footage. ‘Here you are again, on the phone, a few minutes after Cartwright died.’

  ‘That’s not me,’ said Robbins. He sounded panicked.

  ‘Would you mind rolling up your left shirt sleeve for me, please?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your left shirt sleeve,’ repeated Phillips. ‘Can you roll it back? I’d like to see your wrist.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Why do you want to see my wrist?’

  ‘Well, the thing is, John,’ said Phillips, ‘the man in this picture has a tattoo on his left wrist that looks just like yours. It’s a very distinctive design. A lion motif, intricately inked, within a dark leaf ring and a globe. DS Jones looked into that specific design and found out all about its origin, didn’t you, Sergeant?’

  ‘I did, Ma’am,’ said Jones, playing his part to perfection like he had in so many interviews before. ‘It’s the symbol for the Royal Marines.’

  ‘You’re an ex-commando, aren’t you?’ said Phillips.

  Robbins’s breathing was shallow now. His eyes darted between the image on the screen, Phillips and Jones. Phillips could sense he was on the edge and about to open up, so she pushed on. ‘You may as well tell us the truth – while you still can. You see, we also found traces of DNA at Cartwright’s house that belonged to someone else. A male,’ she lied. With no suspicion of murder, Evans and his team had not needed to look for detailed forensics. ‘A simple swab of your mouth will tell us whether that DNA belongs to you, John. And my money’s on the fact that it will. So I’ll ask you again, were you at Sam Cartwright’s house on the day she died? A simple yes or no will do.’

  Robbins shoulders sagged and he dropped his head. He stared at the table for a long moment before he looked up at Phillips and nodded.

  ‘For the tape. John Robbins has just nodded, indicating he was at Sam Cartwright’s house on the day she died,’ said Phillips.

  ‘What were you doing there, John?’ asked Jones.

  Robbins’s words came out all at once. ‘I was there. But I didn’t go inside. I rang the doorbell. Tried the front door handle and looked through the front window. But she wasn’t at home.’

  ‘Did you go round the back?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘Yeah. I checked the garden, and tried the back door, but I couldn’t see anything.’

  ‘Why were you there?’

  Robbins seemed eager to please now. ‘Sam suffered from depression and anxiety. A lot of veterans do. And she’s been quite down, lately. I hadn’t seen or heard from her for a few days since the kidnapping. I got the sense she felt responsible in some way. So I figured I’d go round and check on her. You know. To make sure she hadn’t done anything stupid.’

  ‘You mean suicide?’ said Jones.

  Robbins focused his full attention on Jones. ‘Yeah. It’s the silent killer among veterans. We all saw, and did, things in active combat that changed us forever. Sam was no different, and that stuff can eat away at you if you’re not careful.’

  ‘So how do you explain being there at the exact time she took an overdose?’ said Phillips.

  ‘I can’t. Just a coincidence, I guess.’

  Phillips glanced sideways at Jones. She was sure he was thinking the same thing. There’s no such thing as a coincidence. She turned her attention back to the laptop screen. ‘I’m intrigued, John. In your role in the Marines, were you trained in surveillance and counter-intelligence?’

  Robbins’s brow furrowed. He seemed surprised by the question. ‘Yes, to some degree.’

  ‘You see, John,’ said Phillips, ‘we’ve watched every piece of CCTV footage that features you around Cartwright’s house, and you never once showed your face to the camera. Do you not think that’s a bit odd?’

  Robbins shrugged his shoulders. ‘Not really. I was wearing a cap with a wide brim.’

  Phillips forced a thin smile. ‘It’s a bit convenient, isn’t it?’

  Jones cut in now. ‘Do you know what that says to me, John?’

  ‘No,’ said Robbins, his eyes narrow.

  ‘That says to me that, because of your military training, you knew the cameras were there, and how to avoid being seen.’

  ‘That wasn’t the case at all. I just chose to wear a cap that day.’

  ‘Bollocks.’ Jones pressed on. ‘I think you went to see Cartwright because you and she were involved in the kidnapping of Hollie Hawkins.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘You knew she was flaky, that she had a drug habit. And that if we put pressure on, she’d crack. Tell us where the girl is. Tell us how you did it—’

  ‘Seriously,’ said Robbins as he cut Jones off, ‘you’re living in cloud cuckoo land, mate.’

  Jones continued unabated, ‘So you went to her house to make sure she didn’t say anything to us. But when you got there, you spotted her lying on the floor, just like we did. But instead of forcing your way in to help her, you realised your troubles were potentially over. So you legged it, leaving her to die.’

  Robbins slammed his fist down on the table. ‘That’s just not true!’ He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. ‘Look. I went round to see Sam because I was worried about her. I cared about her. I should have looked through the window at the back, but for whatever reason, I didn’t. And I can’t forgive myself for that. If I had, maybe she’d still be alive. You have to believe me. I had nothing to do with the kidnap of Hollie Hawkins. Nothing.’ Robbins pointed an index finger at Jones now. ‘In fact, if you remember, I was the one who showed you how the kidnappers got in. Now why would I do that if I was working with them?’

  Phillips folded her arms across her chest. ‘To throw us off the scent.’

  ‘Do me a favour,’ scoffed Robbins. ‘I’m a retired, highly decorated Royal Marine with an unblemished service record. Not to mention, I’ve got kids of my own. I couldn’t kidnap a young girl. It goes against everything I believe in. I’ve risked my life in combat to protect the people of this country. Because that’s what I do; I protect those that cannot defend themselves. I don’t hurt them.’

  Phillips eyed Robbins for a long moment before she responded. ‘Did you know Sam changed her name?’

  Robbins’s brow furrowed. ‘She what?’

  ‘She changed her name. She was known as Sam Blackwood when she was in the Army, but changed it to Sam Cartwright after she left. Were you aware of that?’

  Robbins shook his head. ‘I had no idea.’

  Phillips continued. ‘We think she did it to hide her past; the fact she had a record for drugs possession and assault.’

  Robbins’s mouth opened, but he said nothing for a moment. Then, ‘Assault?’ he breathed, in a wondering tone.

  Jones interjected now. ‘Don't you do background checks on your staff at Marstons?’

  ‘Yeah we do,’ said Robbins. ‘But Green does them. I just get given the names once they’ve been appointed.’

  ‘Well, looks like he needs to be a bit more thorough in future, doesn’t it?’ said Jones.

  ‘Yeah. I guess he does,’ said Robbins.

  Phillips decided now would be a good time to regroup with Bovalino, get his take on what they’d just heard. She glanced up at the clock on the wall behind Robbins’s head. ‘Right. I think we should take a short break. I’m suspending this interview at 5 p.m.’ She stood and signalled for Jones to follow her out.

  ‘Do we think he’s involved?’ Bovalino asked as they walked i
nto the observation suite.

  ‘He seems genuine enough. And seemed shocked when we told him Cartwright had a record,’ said Phillips. She shook her head. ‘But the timing of his visit, plus the fact he hid his face? That’s what’s bothering me at the moment.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Jones. ‘Should we arrest him? Scare him a little, see if we can crack him?’

  ‘On what grounds? We can’t prove he’s done anything illegal,’ said Phillips. ‘According to Chakrabortty, Cartwright died of an overdose, and we have absolutely nothing to tie him to the kidnapping.’

  Jones nodded. ‘And to be fair, he’s right. He was the one who spotted how the gang got into the Marstons Club.’

  Phillips stared at the monitor displaying the video feed of Interview Room Two, and watched Robbins for a long moment, sitting alone at the table. She turned back to Jones and Bovalino. ‘Release him for now, but let's keep an eye on him. Get Entwistle to dig into his background. Run his bank accounts, previous jobs, friends and family, the works. If there’s anything dodgy about this guy, Entwistle will find it.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Jones. ‘I’ll give Robbins the good news and drive him home.’

  27

  It had become a well-worn routine at mealtimes, and it seemed that Blue had been selected to deliver her food. Like clockwork, the lock being released would signal someone was about to enter, then the door would open slowly and Blue would walk into the room. Sometimes – as was the case this time – if Hollie managed to get to the small table in the middle room before Blue entered, she could catch a glimpse of the world beyond her makeshift cell: a long, concrete corridor lit with what appeared to be temporary lights. But the space was always empty. Never a soul in sight.

  Blue carried the tray in and was careful when he placed it on the table so as not to spill any of the precious cargo. ‘I’ve made you carrot and coriander soup,’ he said.

  The softness of his voice took her by surprise, and she detected an accent of some kind; Scottish or Irish, but she couldn’t be certain.

  Hollie opened her mouth to thank him but, as ever, Blue appeared keen to remove himself from the room as quickly as possible. He turned on his heels, and marched back towards the door.

  ‘If my dad doesn’t pay, are you really going to kill me?’ Hollie asked, even though she feared the answer.

  Blue turned to face her, and for a moment it appeared as if he would answer the question. Instead, he swivelled and yanked the door wide open, forgetting to knock.

  Without warning, Hollie found herself staring into the cold, black eyes of a tall, muscular woman. Her face was scarred and distorted down the entire left-hand side, as if it had been burned.

  The woman, angry with Blue’s error, shot out of sight. ‘The door! Shut the door, you stupid old bastard!’ she cried.

  Blue lurched through the open door and slammed it shut behind him.

  A chorus of shouts erupted outside Hollie’s room, and she rushed to the door in an attempt to hear what was being said. But by the time she got there, all she heard was a door slam and the muffled argument as it continued, fading away from her room.

  28

  November 7th

  With time running out, and the pressure mounting by the minute, Phillips was beginning to feel a touch of claustrophobia in her office. She decided to decamp the core MCU team of Jones, Bovalino and Entwistle, to the conference suite at the far end of the incident room.

  When she arrived, carrying her early morning coffee, Entwistle had just finished connecting his laptop to the projector that hung down from the roof. This made it much easier for the whole team to view the background information he’d found on John Robbins.

  With everyone seated, Entwistle began. ‘I pretty much worked all night to find this information—’

  ‘What d’ya want, mate? A medal?’ joked Bovalino.

  ‘Ignore him, Entwistle,’ said Phillips with a grin. ‘Carry on.’

  ‘I’ve dug into every file I could find on John Robbins. Turns out he’s a bloody war hero.’

  A grainy picture of a younger Robbins appeared on the large screen fitted to the wall. Dressed in desert fatigues with full body armour, Robbins stood in front of a military vehicle. His skin was heavily tanned, and he carried an SA80 automatic rifle in his gloved hands. ‘This is John Robbins in Afghanistan in 2011. He was a sergeant in the Royal Marines, 3 Commando Brigade. This was taken during his second tour of Afghanistan, where his bravery earned him the Conspicuous Gallantry Cross. Apparently he and another member of his team took on the enemy at close quarters so that seriously wounded casualties from their section could be medivacked to safety.’ Another picture of Robbins, looking a little older and in civilian clothing – but still armed – appeared. ‘He was also part of a highly successful reconnaissance unit that deployed around the globe. I’m not sure where this was taken, but it would seem, from the fact he’s in civilian clothes, that he was working undercover at this point.’ Next on the screen was a collection of pictures with Robbins in sports gear. ‘He retired from the Marines in 2015, but remains a reserve. He’s big into charity work to support veterans whose lives have been changed through their experiences of combat.’

  ‘Seems like a thoroughly decent bloke,’ said Jones.

  ‘He really does,’ said Entwistle. ‘No criminal record, not even a speeding offence. And his finances are in great shape too. He receives a full navy pension each month, as well as his salary from the club, which is thirty-eight grand a year before tax. Basically, he’s as clean as a whistle.’

  Phillips took a deep breath and let it out loudly through her nose. ‘Jesus. If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.’

  ‘Sorry Guv,’ said Entwistle. ‘I looked everywhere for even the slightest hint that he could be crooked, but he’s a bit of a living legend.’

  ‘But that still doesn’t explain why he was at Cartwright’s house when she died.’ said Phillips.

  ‘Maybe it was just a coincidence, Guv,’ said Jones.

  Phillips nodded reluctantly. ‘Yeah. Maybe.’ She placed her hands on the sides of her head and her elbows on the desk. ‘Doesn’t help us though, does it? We’re still no further forward, and we’ve been at this for almost a week now.’

  It was Jones’s turn to open his laptop. ‘I think I may have found something, Guv.’

  That drew Phillips’s full attention. ‘Really?’

  ‘Entwistle, I’m emailing you the ransom video. Can you pull it up on the big screen?’

  A moment later, the team found themselves looking at Hollie Hawkins’s face, staring at them from the video message sent to her father six days earlier.

  ‘Press play, and I’ll tell you when to stop it,’ said Jones.

  The video played for a few minutes, up to the point where Hollie broke down and one of the kidnappers forced her head sideways with the gun.

  ‘Stop there!’ said Jones.

  Entwistle paused the video.

  ‘Do you see that, there? To the left of her head.’

  Phillips leaned forwards and focused in on the image. ‘What are we looking at, Jonesy?’

  Jones stood up and walked to the screen, pointing to the area of the footage he was talking about. ‘This here. Can you make it out?’

  ‘It looks like a block of metal,’ Bovalino said.

  Jones returned to his laptop, but remained standing. ‘It is, Bov. Entwistle, I’m sending you another image. Can you pull it up for me?’

  Entwistle’s screen pinged, and the email notification with Jones’s name appeared in the bottom corner of the screen. He opened it and clicked on the attached image.

  Jones walked back to the screen and used his pen as a pointer. ‘See this picture of Salford Baths? Look closely at the steel structure that spans the apex of the ceiling. Now look back at the metal block behind Hollie’s head.’

  Entwistle put both images side by side on screen.

  Jones continued, ‘They’re not identical, but very, very sim
ilar.’

  ‘When was Salford Baths constructed?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘Eighteen-fifty, Guv,’ said Jones.

  ‘So, based on that structure, the building they’re holding Hollie in is likely Victorian and derelict,’ said Phillips. ‘And out of the way of any prying eyes.’

  ‘Looks that way,’ said Jones.

  ‘Bov, you’re a Mancunian. Where would we find a building like that?’ asked Phillips.

  Bovalino rubbed his stubble for a moment. ‘Probably around the parts of Salford that are still to be developed. Or over where I grew up, in West Gorton. There’s a bunch of buildings I remember scrambling round in when I was a teenager. I’ve not been back home for a while, but last time I was there, they were still standing – and still derelict. Could be worth a look?’

  ‘Bit of a needle in a haystack, isn’t it?’ said Phillips.

  ‘It’s something, though,’ said Jones.

  Phillips nodded. ‘You and Bov, check them out.’ She turned to Entwistle. ‘You’re a graduate, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, Guv.’

  ‘Right, well, while these two are in West Gorton, I want you to go back to uni.’

  Entwistle’s brow furrowed. ‘Hey?’

  ‘Get up to Manchester University. They’ve got a huge school of architecture there. See who you can find that knows about Victorian buildings – especially those in Manchester. They might recognise that particular structure and be able to match it to a specific architect. That could help us narrow the search considerably.’

  ‘Yes, Guv,’ Entwistle said with alacrity.

  Phillips checked her watch. It was coming up to 8.30 a.m. ‘Right. Well, I’d better prep for my morning debrief with Fox. No doubt I’m up for another bollocking. Let’s stay in contact and aim to reconvene this afternoon, ok?’

  A chorus of ‘Yes Guv’ filled the room.

  ‘Let’s get to it. We’re running out of time,’ said Phillips, and headed back to her office.

  29