‘Do any of you have a key to this gate?’ Carter called to the coppers. A PC came running up and showed him the key. ‘Network Rail property, this is. Can’t let you through without authorisation.’
‘Have you called the locals?’ Carter asked.
‘Our sergeant is in Waverley Station coordinating with your lot, and we were to meet up in the middle. Power’s off; standard procedure for a jumper. Going to be chaos this morning if there’s a body. TV and journos will be over us like the pox.’
‘Who reported it?’
‘Driver of the one-sixteen to Aberdeen. He’s stuck in the tunnel.’
‘Talk to your Sarge, find out who the senior officer is and tell him I want to come through with Dr Flowers.’
PC stepped away to radio the request.
‘It doesn’t look feasible for someone to jump from the castle onto the tracks,’ Dr Flowers said, looking up above herself. ‘I think they’d fall well short.’
‘It’s high enough, I suppose. The castle is closed though.’
PC returned. ‘Inspector Peter Conway from St Leonard’s. Says he knows you but wants to know why you’re here.’
Within seconds the order came back.
81
Pictures of Lily
Walking for Carter was uncomfortable. The two cricket balls between his legs were chafing. He had to stop regularly as dagger-like pains shot through his testicles at the slightest stumble. On the castle side of the railway, a public walkway snaked up the hill towards Castle Esplanade, but access via this gate was only ever meant for railway engineers.
A hundred metres ahead was another bridge. Arc lighting illuminated the scene. On their left, another gate was open, allowing direct access to the rail tracks. A large white tent appeared, spanning all four rail tracks leading from the station. White-suited CSEs were walking around, safety boards covered the rails. A man wearing the peaked cap and checker-board design came to meet them.
‘Passing my arse, Leccy,’ said Inspector Peter Conway.
Carter introduced Dr Flowers. ‘What’s the story, sir?’
‘I’m guessing,’ said Conway, ‘you’ll know more than we do. A woman has jumped from the bridge and been decapitated by the west-bound Aberdeen LNER train. What’s happened to you? You look like you’ve been in a fight.’
‘That’s a reasonable description,’ Carter replied.
‘Why are you here?’ Conway demanded but was interrupted by a shout from the crime scene manager, standing further along the rails.
‘A suicide note.’ CSM held a cellophane sheet in a gloved hand. He walked along the boards with a young man’s confidence. ‘Addressed to Sergeant Leccy Carter, E Division.’
‘Who just happens to be here,’ Conway said.
‘Less than two weeks ago,’ Carter said, ‘another woman was thrown off a footbridge in Dalry. She’s in a coma in hospital. An hour ago, when I was in hospital with these injuries, I received a text from the killer. I was to come here.’
‘So this isn’t suicide.’ Conway said.
‘Nope. Can I open the note?’
CSM slit the envelope along its edge then handed him a single sheet of paper.
36874521
Bye-bye Lily baby, don’t cha cry no more.
‘Have you found her phone?’ Carter asked the CSM whose badge said, Norrie McLean. He held out the paper for Dr Flowers to read. She hesitated.
‘Who else do you need down here, Leccy?’ asked Conway.
‘Nick Mason. He’ll just be settling into his bed.’ Carter smiled.
CSM McLean helped Carter walk along the wooden boards. Inside the tent, a photographer and four CSE’s, all wearing facemasks, were busy. The metallic smell of human blood caught in his throat, even before he saw the remains. He put on a facemask.
The torso was being carefully attended to by a female crime scene examiner. The head lay a few metres closer to the bridge. Carter couldn’t see the face and wasn’t sure he wanted to, but he knew she deserved the dignity of recognition. Death by ScotRail was always savagely brutal.
He shuffled over until he could see more. The steel wheels had mangled her, and all he could see of a human face was bloody, matted, dark hair. He turned back to the torso. Her left arm was severed just below the elbow, and her left leg had been severed at the shin. The right leg had lost its foot just above the ankle, but otherwise, the torso was intact. The pathologist would confirm her exact height, weight and age. Still, he couldn’t help noticing the sleeveless dress, drenched in blood but otherwise showing patches of white and teal. His breathing got shorter as his heart raced. He turned to the CSM McLean, and both men went outside, grateful for the snell breeze.
‘Shoes?’ Carter asked.
‘Not that we’ve found,’ said McLean, pulling down his white hood to reveal blonde hair.
‘Other outer clothing? Coat, scarf, gloves?’
‘Not yet. Might be under the train.’
‘She’s been raped and drugged. He’s taken her shoes, and possibly her knickers too.’
‘How do you know?’ McLean asked.
‘He’s done it twice before that I’m certain of. This is a murder scene. He’s thrown her off this bridge deliberately. Did she have a Louis Vuitton bag?’
‘Yes, the note was in it.’
‘What else?’
‘Usual stuff – purse, makeup, lipstick, tissues. Also, two phones and a small box with glasses and alcohol.’
Carter shuffled off towards the crime scene examiner processing the LV bag, noticing Dr Flowers walking along the boards.
‘Do you really want to see her, Lisa?’ he warned, then spoke to the CSE, ‘Purse? A driving licence?’
‘Yes,’ the man said. He opened the LV purse with gloved hands. ‘Lily Sutherland. An address in Trinity.’
‘Scan it into ICRS as soon as. The box?’
‘Two shot glasses, miniatures of Talisker whisky. Fingerprints only on one glass.’
‘He’ll have cleaned his away. This code will open one of the phones.’
Carter keyed the code from the note into the first device, a gold iPhone. It opened, and he quickly found the SMS nano-app, with its pulsing red dot. He tapped.
[2019-01-24:0123] I’ve decided it’s your time, Carter. Today is your last day on earth, so use it well. I will tell you where you should be and when you should be there. Alone. J
The message vanished before he’d a chance to grab it. Dr Flowers appeared, face grey, green eyes dulled.
‘Are you OK, Lisa?’
She didn’t reply.
‘Let’s get up top, leave the experts to their jobs.’
‘You have to stop him, Leccy,’ she said fearfully.
They turned to walk along the boards, and she took his arm, helping him, steadying him, steadying herself. Peter Conway was where they’d left him, issuing directives and maintaining control of his locus.
‘Sir,’ said Carter. ‘The garden gates are all locked, so he’s come from the castle area.’ Carter pointed towards the dark hulk of the Esplanade slope. ‘Maybe someone saw them. They had drinks beforehand; it was a ritual execution. We’ll find she’s been raped somewhere around there. Ask the train driver if he saw anyone on the bridge.’
‘Nick Mason is on his way, Leccy,’ Conway confirmed.
‘He can fill you in. Dr Flowers is not well.’
They slowly retreated the way they’d come, back to his car. ‘I don’t want to bump into Nick just yet,’ Carter said to Flowers. ‘I need some sleep before we face the team tomorrow.’
‘Come to Prestonfield with me, will you?’ She asked. ‘I can’t be alone tonight with him out there. Please.’
82
Major Investigation Trauma
Sleep on the couch was fitful but necessary. Carter couldn’t quite shake off the images he’d seen on the railway tracks, and the painkillers for his injuries didn’t render his dreams less stark. Lisa Flowers had cried herself to sleep.
At 7 a.m. he gave rest up and caught th
e number 31 bus. It dropped him at Rankeillor Street ten minutes later.
His phone rang. ‘Morning, Gavin,’ he answered.
‘There’s a video on your wife’s phone that’s password protected. We tried to crack it overnight, but it was taking too long. One of my team read some metadata telling us it was saved on the seventeenth of March 2018, timestamp 03:47:43. No other vids are passworded. Thought you should know.’
‘Right, OK, thanks.’
The detectives’ room was full of people he didn’t recognise. DC Garcia was at her desk with her right leg in a grey plastic support.
‘Morning, Leccy,’ she said quietly. ‘Who are these people? No one will speak to me.’
‘The Major Investigation Team, I guess,’ he said, still distracted by Gavin Roy’s call.
‘Why are so many more personas needed to review the evidence and make the strategy?’ she said. ‘We were going just fine. The boss and Mason are upstairs.’
Carter limped up to the next floor, knocked on DI Mason’s door and entered. It was empty. He went up another level, knocked on DCI McKinlay’s door, heard the ‘come in’ and complied. Three people in the tight office stared at him critically.
‘Sergeant Carter,’ McKinlay said breezily, ‘is SIO on this case.’ She wasn’t speaking to Carter. ‘He’s closest to the detail.’
A forty-something woman in a formal skirt-suit stood up. ‘I’m DCI Karen Jacobson from the Major Investigation Team,’ she introduced herself and reached to shake Carter’s hand. ‘I’m here to support you in apprehending this suspect. DCI McKinlay called us in, as you know, and DI Mason here has just finished updating us on Lily Sutherland’s death this morning. Quite a gruesome scene for our scenes of crime experts. Counselling is being extended to them now.’
‘Go back to base,’ Carter spoke directly to DCI Jacobson. ‘We can handle it. Nick, me, Charli, Ellen and the boss. Dr Flowers too.’
‘It’s her programme, of course—’ Jacobson let the sentence roll away.
‘He left a message for me on Lily’s phone,’ Carter addressed DCI McKinlay. ‘He wants to meet me later today. Alone. It was erased as soon as I read it.’
‘What’s your take on the investigation?’ asked Jacobson, ignoring Carter’s statement in favour of her own question. ‘What’s critical, in your view?’
‘He wants me to die.’
‘How do you know this?’ Jacobson seemed confused by the brevity of Carter’s assessment.
‘We need Dr Flowers’ experience,’ Carter said. ‘Without it, I’m a dead man.’
‘Sergeant. How can I help you?’ Jacobson tried again. ‘I have officers at my disposal, experienced in all aspects of running a major investigation. I’m not taking this case away from you.’
‘Ma’am,’ Carter said, addressing DCI McKinlay again. ‘Can you authorise a real-time tracking plot on Joe Moore’s phones? Urgently, please. InterMide will have all his numbers.’
McKinlay looked towards DCI Jacobson. Jacobson nodded and answered. ‘Starting when, Sergeant, and for how long? Our arrangements with the mobile operators require twenty-four hours’ notice unless the Chief Constable believes there’s an imperative. It’ll need a justification paper, with three signatures: DCI McKinlay, me and you. You’ll draft it, of course.’
‘You can draft it before you go back home, but I need that tracking up and running before midday. The tracking stays in place until somebody dies.’
‘What is more important than drafting this request, Sergeant?’ Jacobson asked again.
‘My life.’ Carter left the room.
83
JFDI
The custody desk was empty. He’ll be having his tea, Carter thought, plunging into the ground floor rooms, usually the exclusive enclave of the uniformed bobbies. ‘Tam! Jesus Christ, where are you?’
‘Try the garden,’ said a uniform, referring to the underground cell complex. ‘He’ll be tending the plants.’
Carter limped downstairs like a three-legged donkey failing to outrun the vet, nearly crashing into the veteran copper as he came up the stairs.
‘Has a package arrived this morning from Helen Street?’
‘Aye.’ He found the box and put it on the desk.
Carter tore the plastic sheath and took out Kelsa’s phone.
‘I need a car to take me home. I can’t drive.’
‘Cheryl will have to authorise it. There’s a form to fill out,’ he said haughtily.
‘She’s busy, but she told me I could have whatever I needed. There’s going to be another killing,’ he looked at his watch, ‘any time before midnight – unless Moore is arrested.’
‘Hmm.’ Tam wasn’t convinced a human life weighed equally with the unauthorised use of a police vehicle.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ said Carter, losing the plot. ‘What’s happened to your spirit of Just Fucking Do It?’
‘Corporate accountability,’ Tam said. ‘My nuts are on the line if the cost isn’t justified.’
‘My nuts have been in the line of fire recently, and I have the swellings to prove it.’ Carter replied, hand on his zip. ‘Want to see?’
Tam Watson deflated. ‘Naw, well, but– I heard what happened. I’ll see what I can do. By the way, don’t mention JFDI to anyone from Corporate; it’s a sacking offence these days.’
Carter dialled Dr Flowers’ number while he stared at Kelsa’s phone. He needed to get home, but Lisa had his car. ‘When can you get down here?’ he said. ‘I need your help.’
There was a slight hesitation on the line that Carter instantly picked up. ‘What’s happened?’
‘My contract has been terminated. The Chief called me twenty minutes ago. I’m packing now, got a plane at half ten this morning. I’m sorry, Leccy.’
‘Unpack. The only place you’re going is with me. Bring my car – we’ve got a video to watch.’ He killed the call and limped his way up four flights of stairs. At McKinlay’s office, he didn’t knock. The three inspectors were precisely where he’d left them.
‘Ma’am,’ he said interrupting. ‘With respect, what the fuck is going on? Dr Flowers’ insight is vital to help us catch Moore. She understands his behaviour.’
DCI Jacobson jumped in before McKinlay could answer. ‘She is not an operational resource, Sergeant. She has implemented the counselling initiative that she was engaged to do. Her job is finished: it’s as simple as that. We must control costs.’
‘Arrange a TV slot to find Joe Moore,’ he spoke directly to Jacobson. ‘And while you’re appealing to the public, you can justify the murders of women in this town as an operational efficiency. Tell us if the public agrees with your approach.’ Carter was incandescent. ‘You need to take a good look at yourself, Inspector.’
Jacobson was speechless.
‘Ma’am,’ Carter addressed McKinlay again. ‘You agreed Dr Flowers could work with me on this case, so she has your operational authorisation. We’re this close to catching Moore, and when we do, we’ll need someone in the interview room who has sat in front of psychopaths and made them weep.’
A thin smile flashed across DCI McKinlay’s face. Carter knew he’d won. All that remained was the theatre and Jacobson hadn’t read her lines.
‘Karen,’ said McKinlay, ‘the remit of the MIT on this case is crucial. You have extensive experience in managing complex cases, and I welcome your judgement. I also welcome the new minds you’re bringing to the table. All of them good police officers; just what we need to ensure the case files have no gaps and all leads are accounted for and watertight. Putting this case before the Fiscal is a vital task. That is why I suggested your team could help. Are we agreed?’
‘Yes, of course, but—’
‘Do your officers have any experience interviewing suspects with complex mental disorders? Narcissism, bipolar, sociopathy, or DID?’
‘Not that I’m aware of, but I can request—’
‘I believe Dr Flowers added a profile assessment into ICRS on the personality type we
’re dealing with here that has greatly influenced the direction of the investigation. You are familiar with that assessment?’
‘Well—’
‘I’m going to call the Chief Superintendent now. Will you support my request for Dr Flowers’ contract to be extended for, say, a couple of weeks? In light of the evidence of her efforts so far. I’m sure he’s not entirely familiar with her work in this regard. Still, we can convince him of his role in bringing a vicious killer to justice with your support. Yes?’
Jacobson paused. ‘Of course.’
McKinlay nodded. ‘Carry on, Sergeant.’
84
Murder by Proxy
Ten minutes later, a horn sounded on St Leonard’s Street. Carter squeezed himself into the passenger’s seat of his own car, preferring it to Tam Watson’s option. Another dose of Dicloflex dulled the inflammation in his nuts but kept him sharp.
‘What’s happening this morning?’ Dr Flowers asked.
‘The MIT have found something to do. They’re going to appeal to the public for sightings of Moore, and McKinlay has agreed your contract extension.’
As they pulled into the drive at his home, Carter’s phone rang again.
‘Sergeant Carter,’ Rocketman greeted him. ‘Sad news about this latest victim, it’s still total chaos at Waverley Station. Lily’s remains were taken to Cowgate mortuary about an hour ago. The post-mortem is scheduled for midday, though I can’t see there is any doubt over cause of death.’
‘We need to confirm a few things, though,’ Carter said, putting the phone on speaker so Dr Flowers could listen. ‘Was she drugged, was she raped, and how did she get onto the tracks? Was she lying on the tracks when the train ran over her or was she pushed, like Alice, as the train went underneath the bridge?’
‘We know she had a phone in her bag that held a message meant for Leccy,’ added Dr Flowers. ‘Moore has likely set all this up. But it’s still possible she put herself in front of the train.’
A Wife Worth Dying For Page 27
