Winter came into the tent and took in the scene quickly, his mouth twisting into a grimace for a brief second. He seemed to gain control of himself. ‘I haven’t seen anything like this since Iraq.’ He shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. ‘When do you think this happened?’
The crime scene manager shook his head. ‘Not long ago; rigor mortis hasn’t even set in yet. The internal temperature is still quite high. Less than twelve hours. My personal guess, less than five, but that’s not evidential.’
Winter looked perplexed. ‘Is it the same person who killed Emma Robins?’
Loxton nodded. ‘It looks like the violence is escalating along with the importance the officer played in the Barratt investigation.’ She motioned towards Gabriella’s body.
‘This murder is exactly like a Szyman´ski killing,’ Lena said, her full attention on Loxton. ‘Did Barratt use a knife on his victims?’
‘Yes, but not to this extent. This is something else.’
‘Szyman´ski’s violence increased to this level as his killings went on,’ Lena said. ‘Szyman´ski is definitely the inspiration, but this killer is doing it to avenge Barratt. Kevin Harding is obsessed with both of them. He’s Szyman´ski’s Avenger.’
‘We’ll find him,’ Winter said. ‘We’re putting out a medial appeal to the public that he’s wanted.’
Loxton felt herself withdrawing from the scene as if it wasn’t real. Gabriella couldn’t be dead. Gabriella, so full of life, who could drink anyone under the table. Loxton tried to keep it together.
Meyer came into the tent and glanced at the body and then at the people gathered there. ‘DC Loxton, you’re going back into protection now,’ he said. ‘I’m going to get that arranged. DC Trawinska, can you step out here and tell me your thoughts on the killer?’
Lena nodded in a daze and moved out of the tent with Meyer to a quieter spot, leaving Loxton and Winter with Gabriella.
‘The specialist protection team can’t protect me,’ she said to Winter. ‘We didn’t even make it to forty-eight hours.’
‘Alana, Meyer’s taken it out of my hands. He called the borough commander when we left Walworth. That’s why he was late to the scene. The borough commander was quite clear that this is no longer my case. It’s Meyer’s call. They think the killer must have followed you and Philip to the safe house, there was that device in your coat. It could well have been a tracker put there when Harding broke into Walworth. They’re saying Philip and his team fucked up and it won’t happen again. You’ll be getting a different team. I’m sorry.’
‘I shouldn’t be hiding.’ She tried to hold back the angry tears. ‘We need to find him – stop him. Don’t you get it? Unless we stop him, I’m going to die.’
‘We will stop him, Alana. Just not you.’ Winter’s voice was softer than she’d ever heard it before. ‘The team will pick you up at Walworth. DI Meyer’s calling them now. Are you okay here? I’ll just get Kowalski so he can take you back to Walworth. Lena and I will stay at the scene.’
Loxton nodded, not trusting herself to speak. It was out of his hands; there was no point in arguing with him anymore. But she couldn’t go into protection. Jane was out there and Loxton believed she was still alive, that there was still a chance to save her – to save herself.
Winter left her in the tent alone. The others treated Gabriella as if she were just sleeping and they didn’t want to disturb her. But Gabriella didn’t look like she was asleep one bit. Her mouth was contorted in a scream and her eyes were wide open. They were blood shot, all the capillaries in them burst, leaving strange, almost snowflake-like bright red patterns on the whites of her eyes. Her neck was at a horrible angle. Loxton screwed her eyes shut for a moment. When she looked again, she found herself leaning closer towards Gabriella’s opened mouth. There was something there – a white object lodged painfully at the back of Gabriella’s throat.
She stepped outside of the tent and called the crime scene investigator back. Lena and Winter were both stood nearby; she could hear them talking about Kowalski. They couldn’t get hold of him to take her back. She saw them both notice her and then glance nervously at each other, as if they were keeping tabs on her.
The CSI came into the tent with her. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘There’s something in her throat.’ Loxton’s voice sounded strange and quiet.
‘What?’ The crime scene investigator glanced at her.
‘In her throat.’
The CSI hurried forward and peered into Gabriella’s throat. He pulled out long tweezers and Loxton flinched when he inserted them into Gabriella’s mouth. He retrieved the object and carefully opened it up.
Loxton saw that it was another note in his gloved hand. She stepped outside and called to Lena and Winter to come over.
The tent was crowded as they all stood together.
Lena leaned closer and read aloud the typed text: ‘If you take Alana off the case again, you’ll be sorry More people will die than need to.’
Chapter 41
Saturday 5 February, 09:30
‘I can’t get hold of Kowalski,’ Winter said. ‘I don’t know where the fuck he’s got to. Uniform took Rosa to Walworth to meet the protection officers, so he’s not with her. I’ll have to take you back to the station.’
‘He’s okay, isn’t he?’ Loxton asked. ‘Harding took his address as well, remember.’
‘I hope so,’ Winter said.
Loxton’s mobile rang with an unknown number and she picked it up with relief. ‘Dominik, where are you?’
‘DC Loxton, it’s Kevin Harding.’ Loxton’s hand tightened on her mobile. Was he calling to taunt her? Was Jane with him? She left the tent, not wanting to be near Gabriella while she talked to him.
Harding’s voice sounded panicky, his words tumbling out in a rush. She frowned and put him on loudspeaker, motioning for Winter to come over and listen.
‘Kevin, slow down.’ She moved over to Winter, who was frowning in concern.
‘I want to talk, but I’ll only speak to you. No one else.’ Harding’s voice was panicked on the phone.
‘Well, I’m listening,’ she said.
‘No, not like this.’ Harding sounded angry. ‘In person. I only trust you.’
Loxton looked at Winter, who frowned and shook his head. He would never agree. Harding was their main suspect, and now he seemed desperate. If he was the killer, she’d have expected him to be cleverer than this, though. It didn’t feel right.
‘Can’t you just tell me over the phone?’ Loxton asked. ‘It’s just me now.’
‘I don’t know who’s listening in; you don’t either. My mobile could be tapped. My life’s at risk here. You need to come over right now.’ His voice was shaking and he sounded hysterical. Had he been drinking?
She had to keep Harding talking, get as much information as possible. ‘Okay, but you need to calm down. Where are you?’
‘You know where I am. I’m in my flat waiting for you,’ Harding hissed.
‘Kevin, I know you took off your tag and left your flat. Why did you do that?’
‘Szyman´ski’s Avenger can track me using that tag. He’s going to kill me. I had to go on the run. I’ve only come back to the flat to meet up with you. You’ve got to come quick; I can’t stay here long.’
For a brief moment she believed Harding. He was utterly convincing. He seemed terrified of something. He seemed to share her belief that the killer had infiltrated the police. ‘Look, I can’t just come over on my own,’ she said. ‘I need to get it authorized first.’
‘Please, I need police protection now.’ Harding’s voice was urgent. ‘You’re supposed to be getting me protection.’
‘Let me send a unit to you; they’ll be with you in a few minutes.’
‘No police, that will make it worse. Just you.’
‘I’m police, Kevin.’ Harding was hysterical; he wasn’t making sense.
‘You’re different,’ he said. ‘Szyman´ski’s Avenger
is trying to kill you too, so I know I can trust you. Your name was on the list.’
List? So he was involved. And now he was trying to trick her, by pretending they were in it together – that both their lives were in danger. Attempting to make a connection was classic manipulation; she did it herself with suspects, but this was something else.
‘Get out of your flat,’ she said. ‘Go to a public place. A café. You’ll be safer there. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’ Loxton didn’t like the fear in his voice. It was real. Winter raised his eyebrows in warning and Loxton put her hand out to placate him.
‘I’m not leaving my flat now. No way. It’s too dangerous. They could be in the corridor outside. I’ll be here. I’ve been on the phone too long.’ Harding hung up.
Loxton let out a long breath, her adrenaline levels high, as if she’d contracted Harding’s fear through the phone.
‘What game is he playing?’ Winter said. ‘As if I’d let you go there on your own, when he’s our main suspect. He’s insane.’
Loxton shrugged; she had no idea. ‘He sounded genuinely scared, sir. I think he’s being serious about his life being in danger. And when people are frightened, they make mistakes. This could be our only chance to catch him. To stop this.’
‘You need to go to Walworth to meet the protection team. DI Meyer is adamant.’
‘Protection didn’t work out so well last time, sir. And you read the note. More people will die if you take me off the case. It’s my life. Let me make the choice. If you go there without me and Harding sees that I’m not there, he won’t talk. If I’m there he might tell me where Jane is. And if there is someone else involved, this Szyman´ski’s Avenger, they could kill her while we waste time.’
Winter considered this and then closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them, she saw a flare of anger there. ‘Fine, but you’re to stay right by my side, whatever happens,’ Winter said. ‘This feels like a trap, Alana. Kowalski’s gone missing now. We’re having uniformed units go with us. I’m not taking any chances with any more of my officers.’
She knew what he meant about a trap, but what choice did they have? The note was clear: more lives would be lost if she wasn’t on the case. This might be their only chance to get Harding talking and find out where Jane was being held. And two could play at setting traps.
Chapter 42
Saturday 5 February, 09:43
Winter banged again on Harding’s door; there was no answer. He tried the handle, but the door was locked. In his other hand was his drawn baton. Loxton stayed back but made sure she could be seen through the spy hole, so it looked like she was the only person there.
‘Kevin, open the door,’ she called out.
The uniform were behind the corner, out of view.
Winter shook his head and lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Harding could be stood behind that door with a knife.’
She nodded back in silence, drawing her own baton too. He motioned for the uniform to move forwards with the enforcer. Loxton stepped away to let them through. The largest officer swung the enforcer back in silence and then sent it full force into the door. The crash was deafening, and splinters of wood showered back at them. He then swung it into the door again. The thin council door smashed open and another officer ran forward with a riot shield. The other uniformed officers charged after him.
Winter was next to Loxton, and she realized his only concern was for her. One uniformed officer kept watch and nodded for them to go in while he stayed outside as guard.
Inside the flat, they were met with disarray. A side table in the corridor had been knocked over, a smashed bowl was on the floor, its contents spilled across the cheap linoleum flooring. She saw spatters of blood on the floor.
Winter and Loxton raised their batons high and followed the trail of blood and disaster into the living room, as if someone had run through here, desperate to escape something. The officers were checking all the hiding places, searching everywhere for danger.
The two-seater sofa was shoved to the side. She saw a door leading off from the living room and knew from the previous search that it was the kitchen.
‘In here. Suspect’s dead,’ called a uniform officer. She headed towards the voice, dread filling her heart. Winter caught her, shook his head, and stepped in front of her. She followed him into the kitchen and saw Harding sprawled on his front across the kitchen floor.
His neck was at a strange angle, his face turned to the side, but too far to be normal. Winter checked Harding’s pulse before allowing her near. Satisfied Harding was dead, he motioned her over.
One of the uniformed officers put down a bag full of equipment and started handing out forensic suits and masks. This had gone from a welfare check to a crime scene. Loxton pulled a suit on, gloves and fixed her mask in place before crouching down next to Harding.
She was drawn to his eyes, which were wide with disbelief. It was as if, at the moment he was killed, he couldn’t believe it had all gone so horribly wrong. There was a kitchen knife a couple of inches from his outstretched hand, his fingertips almost brushing the handle. The tip of the knife had a little white piece of paper stabbed through it.
She glanced at Harding’s knife block, which had been dragged towards the edge of the kitchen counter, and saw the same style of kitchen knives neatly stored there.
Except one knife was missing.
Harding must have run to it and tried to grab the knife to protect himself, but before he could turn around and use it, he had collapsed from his injuries.
She crouched next to the body and saw that there were multiple stab wounds in his back, blood still oozing from them. There were no stab wounds on his front. His neck had red marks on it, where the killer must have remained calm, strangling him to complete their ritual.
She suspected Harding had been a challenge. She imagined him letting his killer in and turning his back on them for a moment. A fatal mistake.
Winter interrupted her thoughts. ‘The rest of the flat’s clear,’ he said. ‘The killer’s gone.’
‘We were too late,’ Loxton said. She felt frustration and guilt heavy in her chest. Harding had called her for help, no one else, and she hadn’t been able to save him. She hadn’t been able to save any of them. She shivered. If Harding, a trained killing machine, couldn’t protect himself, what chance did she have? Or Jane?
‘He was on bail for murder and he gets killed after requesting police protection,’ Winter said. ‘We had it all wrong.’
‘No one could have predicted this was going to happen,’ Loxton said. ‘And we got here as quickly as we could. Why did he come back to his flat? He must have known how risky it was. It was like he thought I’d told him to come here.’ She felt sick thinking that the killer must have only just left. If Harding had called five minutes earlier, they might have got here first, and he might have told them something vital – something to help them save Jane.
Winter rubbed his hand across his face and then radioed Control and updated them, requesting Forensics. She stared at the dead man and couldn’t help imagining Jane in his place. She blinked rapidly, but the image remained – Jane’s hand reaching for the knife instead of Harding’s. Jane stabbed to death before she could defend herself. Loxton shook her head, trying to dislodge the picture from her mind.
She heard voices from the corridor and called out. ‘We’re in here.’
Lena and Kowalski walked into the kitchen with full forensic suits on and joined them by Harding’s body.
Winter looked relieved when he saw Kowalski. ‘I thought something had happened to you. I couldn’t get hold of you.’
‘I was on the phone sorting out police protection for Gabriella’s sister and then Meyer got me to arrange a team for Alana.’ He looked guiltily at her, as if he’d betrayed her.
‘It doesn’t matter, Dominik,’ Loxton said. It wasn’t his fault.
She looked back down at the body and carefully picked up the note with tweezers and held it
up so the others could read it at the same time. The first few words didn’t make sense to her and she wondered what language it was written in: ‘Wczoraj bracie Dzisiaj wrogu.’
Kowalski leaned towards the note and went grey as he read out loud. ‘Wczoraj bracie. Dzisiaj wrogu. “Yesterday a brother. Today an enemy.” Alana, it’s your turn to disappear next. Better run, they can’t save you.’ Kowalski’s eyes met Loxton’s and she saw the horror contained in them. For an awful second, she had thought Kowalski had been talking directly to her, that he was the killer. But then she saw the address to her on the paper. If she were in any doubt before, she now knew it was their killer who had murdered Harding.
It was the first time he had written in a different language, though. And instead of the carefully crafted printed-out letters, the note had been handwritten, as if he was in a hurry.
‘Harding was going to talk,’ Lena said. ‘He knew who the murderer was, assisted them. Somehow the killer pre-empted Harding’s betrayal and silenced him.’
Winter sighed and looked down at Harding’s face. ‘If we’d just got here quicker.’
Loxton wanted to reach out her hand and squeeze his shoulder. She saw the guilt she felt reflected in his face, but he was responsible for the whole investigation. He was in charge.
She looked at Kowalski and Lena. They threw each other a worried look. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘It’s Polish and I… I recognize the handwriting,’ Kowalski said.
‘Care to share?’ Loxton glanced from Lena to Kowalski.
‘It looks like Szyman´ski’s handwriting.’ Kowalski shook his head in disbelief. ‘It’s almost an exact match.’
‘But it can’t be,’ Lena said. ‘You know that’s impossible. I saw his body. I touched his skin to make sure he was cold.’ She looked embarrassed by her admission.
‘What part of Poland was he from?’ Loxton asked. ‘It might help us reduce our search. People often write in a similar way when they’re from certain areas and generations.’
Your Life or Mine Page 22
