A broad, Nordic-looking man in his late forties opened the door. Yvonne knew immediately this must be Lars, Kate’s father. The sad heaviness of his expression and his hunched shoulders would be confirmation enough, even if the DI hadn’t caught the resemblance to Kate’s photograph.
“Mr Nilsson? I’m Detective Inspector Yvonne Giles, Dyfed-Powys Police.”
Lars extended a large, warm hand to shake hers before stepping back to allow her into the hallway. On the walls hung a gallery of family photos, over which Yvonne cast a rapid but thorough gaze.
“Can I get you anything?” Lars motioned her into the medium-sized country kitchen. A tearful Mrs Nilsson sipped from a mug while leaning back against a cream-coloured Aga.
“My wife, Hayley.” Lars put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Kate’s mum,” he added needlessly.
“Mrs Nilsson,” Yvonne acknowledged, with a sad smile.
“Hayley,” the other mumbled. “The kettle’s just boiled.” She leaned her chin on her mug, her eyes glazed.
“I’m all right, thank you.” Yvonne chose a position at right angles to the couple, leaning against a row of oak cupboards facing the window. “I’m really sorry about your daughter.” Yvonne looked from one to the other. “There is no good time to lose someone you love,” she said, eyes half-lidded, “but this time of year is…” She sighed.
“I’m angry.” Lars folded his arms across his chest, glistening eyes narrowing in his muscular face. “She was afraid. My daughter was afraid.”
“Afraid?” Yvonne frowned. “What was she afraid of?”
“Lars…” Hayley put a hand on her husband’s arm and the DI could see she had visibly paled. Lars fell silent.
Yvonne shifted position. She realised Kate Nilsson hadn’t been the only one who was scared. She didn’t push it. Not yet. “What time did Kate leave to go running?” The DI ran her eyes around the kitchen - the tinsel, draped around witty kitchen signs, a tray of mince pies abandoned on the counter - evidence of celebrations interrupted.
“Around three-thirty. I’d just entered my study when I heard the door go.” Lars looked up at the clock.
“She gave me a kiss on the cheek as she left.” Hayley broke down, her chest heaving as sobs wracked her body.
“She was found by Ken Davies, who was out checking his sheep.” Lars pulled his wife into his arms, kissing her forehead as he removed the spilling mug from her grip to place it on the countertop.
“What time was that?” Yvonne checked her notes. “We received the phone call at four-twenty pm. Was that when he found her?”
Lars pursed his lips. “About then, I think. Well, actually it was about four-ish. Mobile signals are semi-precious out here. They come and go like the mists. I think he had to go back to the farmhouse to call you and then call us.”
“He knew who she was then?”
“He should. He went to school with Kate.”
“She was lying face-down in the ditch. I’m sorry to tell you that, but how could he be sure it was your daughter?”
“Kate ran every day, often twice a day, whenever she was home on leave. She always took the same cross-country route. Ken said he had spoken to her only yesterday.” Lars pulled his arms from around his wife who was now much calmer. “She only had two jogging suits with her. She wore one and washed one. Ken would have seen both.”
Yvonne nodded. “Is Ken at the farm every day?”
“Pretty much. As far as I know.”
Yvonne made a note to visit the farm as soon as possible. “Mr Nilsson-”
“Lars, please.”
“Lars. Would you allow me to see Kate’s room?”
The deeply sad expression was back. “Of course.” And, after a look from his wife,“Could I ask that you not disturb anything unless you really have to?”
“Of course.” Yvonne nodded, adding, “My detective sergeant, Dewi Hughes, is in the car outside. Would it be all right to have him accompany me?”
Lars glanced at his wife, who nodded. “Yes, Detective Giles.”
“Please, call me Yvonne,” she said in soft tones, as she headed for the door. She was glad Dewi would be joining her. She wasn’t feeling her best, head still mashed from worrying about her own family.
She found Dewi listening to radio four with the engine running.
“Feeling cold?” She grinned as she got into the passenger seat.
“It’s f…f…freezing,” he moaned, exaggerating his shivers.
Yvonne gave him a dig in the ribs. “I should have accepted their cup of tea.” She put her tongue out. “Anyway, that wasn’t a conversation you would rush, even if you needed to.”
It was Dewi’s turn to grin. “I was fine. Only just turned the engine on, in fact. And that was mostly because I’d steamed up the windscreen.”
“I’m going to go upstairs to see Kate’s things. I thought you might like to help.”
“Lead me to them.”
The door creaked. So did the floorboards, as they entered Kate’s room. A used towel had been tossed onto the end of a semi-made bed and her hairbrush and mobile phone lay where she appeared to have left them, on the dresser.
Next to the bed, Kate’s army kit-bag. On the walls, several photographs of Kate in Afghanistan.
Yvonne took out an evidence bag and a pair of latex gloves, teasing a few strands of hair from the brush and sealing them away. She pressed the button on the front of Kate’s mobile, flicking through apps and files.
“Anything interesting?” Dewi was on her shoulder.
“Possibly. Who knows? I’ll bag it up. The tech bods can take a look.” The DI frowned, as she flicked through the photographs.
“Ma’am?”
She showed the phone to Dewi.
“What am I looking at?”
“It looks like it could be her barrack room. Bed well made. Very tidy. Regimental flag on the wall.”
“So?”
“Keep looking.” Yvonne flicked through photo after photo. All of the same room, taken from similar perspectives.”
“I feel like I’m playing spot the difference.” Dewi shrugged.
“Exactly.” Yvonne bagged the phone. “Why would Kate have taken so many photos of her barrack room?”
“Maybe she was trying to get the light just right,” Dewi offered.
Yvonne pursed her lips. “Maybe.”
She wandered over to the photographs on the wall. A smiling, blonde-haired Kate placing her life on the line. Bravely putting herself in harm’s way. “She came back home only to lose her life in a muddy field not quarter of a mile from here. Imagine the relief of her parents on her return,” Yvonne said out loud, “only to have her brutally taken from them, in a place where she should have felt safe.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “Makes no sense.”
Dewi took his own photographs of the mural with his phone.
“Thank you, Dewi,” she acknowledged, adding, “Lars said his daughter was afraid-”
A knock on the bedroom door had the DI up off the bed, heart beating fast.
When it opened, Lars Nilsson filled the door-frame.
“We’re nearly finished.” She sounded breathless. “We’ve taken your daughter’s mobile phone. I hope that’s okay?”
“You won’t delete anything?” Lars appeared unsure.
“I promise we won’t do that, Lars. You said your daughter was afraid.”
“She was. She was looking into suspicious events at the barracks. She was constantly looking over her shoulder.”
“Go on.” Dewi stood next to Yvonne, notebook in hand.
“Suicides and strange deaths. Two alleged suicides in five years. Plus other accidents.”
“You say alleged suicides?” Yvonne frowned.
“Well, if three bullets in the head and hanging from a tree, with no ladder and no way to get up there, are suicides…”
“What did your daughter tell you? In what way was she looking into them?”
Lars glanced back towards the
stairs. “She’d begun talking to other young soldiers, friends of the deceased. She’d had run-ins with some of her seniors.”
The DI flicked a look at Dewi’s notebook, checking he was getting it all down. “Lars, may I ask what it is you do for a living?”
Lars hesitated, then, “I’m a photojournalist. Freelance. I sell stories to newspapers and magazines. Mostly based in the UK but, occasionally, those abroad.”
“I see.” The DI rubbed her forehead, gazing at her shoes. “Did you ask your daughter to look into those deaths?” She raised her eyes to his, looking straight into him. He coloured.
“Lars? Is everything okay up there?” Hayley’s voice rang up the stairwell.
“Just coming,” Lars called down. “If you’ve finished?” He looked from Yvonne to Dewi and then back again, his expression closed.
“For now.” She nodded. “Thank you.”
The DI was silent as she and Dewi left the cottage, heading for the car. Her DS could see she was churning stuff over and waited for her to snap out of it.
“They’re hiding something,” she said, finally. “And Hayley Nilsson is scared. Dewi, see to it that a marker is put on their address. Any call-outs to be given top priority.”
“Will do, ma’am.”
4
Questions and intrigues
Back at the station, Yvonne examined the items she had collected from Kate’s room and prepared the paperwork for forensics. She was still musing over the dozens of photographs on Kate’s mobile. Photographs of her barracks room, all showing the same scene. She put a note in with the phone, requesting two copies of every photo.
After a quick coffee and catch-up with DCs Jones and Clayton, she took a deep breath and knocked on the DCI’s door.
Llewellyn gave her a warm smile, his eyes searching her face. “How’d it go?”
“It wasn’t easy.” Yvonne proceeded to fill him in, then added, “Kate was investigating suspicious deaths, at Dale Barracks in Chester.”
“Suspicious?”
“Suicides and accidents, that she and her father believed were murders.”
“You think her death was related to her investigations?”
“I think she was taken out by another soldier. Perhaps Cheshire Police would have more information regarding the other deaths. I hope to speak to them in the next couple of days. But I came to ask if I can go further.”
“You want to go to Dale Barracks.”
“You know me so well, sir.”
Chris Llewellyn ran a hand through his hair, lines creasing his forehead. “Investigating the army is usually a fraught affair. Are you sure you can’t get everything you need from Cheshire Police?”
“Well, I doubt it. Her investigation wasn’t official. She was talking to other soldiers and friends of the dead. I feel I need to tread in her footsteps. Learn the things she learned.”
“If they’ll talk to you. Talking to the police is a lot different to talking to one of their own.”
“She had run-ins with her seniors, according to her father. I don’t know which seniors. My best hope is the other young soldiers on the base.”
“You’ll need clearance.” Llewellyn scribbled a few notes in the pad on his desk. “I’ll speak to the Colonel of the regiment, Major-General Forster.”
“You know him?”
“I was in school with him. My brother is a close friend of his.”
Yvonne’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a dark horse, sir.” She grinned. “I’d be really grateful if you could pull a few strings. Get me in.”
“You don’t go alone. Take Dewi, and get as much as you can in one day.”
Yvonne pulled a face.
“Perhaps two. I’ll try to get you two days. Everything else will need to come through military police, news archives and Cheshire Police. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.” Yvonne nodded, wondering if two days would be anywhere near enough.
“What about the murder weapon?”
“Pistol, we think. Ballistics have what’s left of the bullets. That reminds me, I need to ask Jones or Clayton to speak to the pathologist for a final run down before the report comes out.”
Llewellyn nodded. “Well, if there’s anything else?”
“No, sir. Nothing else.” Yvonne turned to leave.
“Oh, Yvonne?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for coming off leave for this. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, sir.” The DI gave a weak smile, her sister’s disappointed face coming vividly back to her.
Dewi was waiting for her as she came out of the DCI’s office, a mug of steaming coffee in each of his hands. “Ken Davies is in interview room one. Are you ready?”
Yvonne grabbed one of the mugs and followed him down the corridor.
Ken sat with his arms folded, his face red, his jaw sticking out. The DI offered him her mug of coffee but he waved it away. Dark-haired and twenty-something, he leaned back in his chair. “How long will this take?” He looked at them all in turn. “It’s just we’ve had a problem with the sheep getting stuck down the brook fence and I usually start my rounds in the next half-an-hour.”
“We’ll be as quick as we can,” the DI reassured him, before introducing herself and Dewi for Ken and the tape recorder. “Mr Davies, can you tell us what time you began your rounds on December twenty-second?”
“Err…that would have been about three-thirty in the afternoon.”
“Were you on foot?”
“No. I was on my quad bike.”
“The whole time?” The DI wondered if the victim and her killer had heard the quad bike coming.
“No, not the whole time. I had to free a sheep from the fence on the south-side and that delayed me a bit. I would normally be back at the farm about four.”
“Four pm?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you see anyone prior to finding Kate’s body?”
Ken looked away to the door. “No.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Very.”
“How about after?”
“No. I did look around but I could have missed something. I was shaking with the shock. I saw her red jogging suit and thought it was a bunch of old rags, to start with. Then I was just looking at her. I could see she was dead. No movement, see. It was then I ran back to my quad. I was scared that whoever done her in could still be around, like.”
“Did you hear any shots?” Dewi leaned in towards Davies.
“Not that I recall. I mean, I hear shots regularly anyway, it being the shooting season. I was on my quad and thinking about Christmas and going to my mum’s for dinner. I wasn’t really paying attention. I can’t believe she’s gone. I talked to her only yesterday. She was always pleasant. Who would have wanted to kill her?”
“Quite.” Yvonne agreed. “What time did you talk to her yesterday?”
“It was in the morning, about seven-thirty. Funny, she was in almost the same place.”
“That was early. Did she vary her running times?”
“No. She ran early morning and late afternoon. Like clockwork, she was.”
“And there’s nothing more you want to tell us, Ken?”
“Not that I can think of.”
The DI wrapped up the interview. Ken was on the suspect list, but Yvonne did not see him as the prime candidate for Kate’s murder. He looked like the proverbial rabbit in the headlights, and this crime had taken something darker. Much darker.
She ducked out of the interview room, heading down the corridor to the coffee area, to make a quick call. She waited an agonising thirty seconds for her sister to answer.
“Kim, how is it going? I’m so sorry to have left like that. How are the children? How’s mum?”
“Are you really telling me you didn’t want to leave?” Kim sounded doubtful.
Yvonne sighed. “I’ll admit I was feeling uneasy. I was in two minds. But when it came to it? No. I didn’t want to leave. And I miss the chi
ldren and you. And I am missing the opportunity to really talk to mum.”
Kim relented. “Okay. How’s your case coming along?”
“Well, it’s just getting going, actually. Loads to do over the coming days, but I will make time to come and see you guys and talk to mum before she goes back.”
“Stay safe.” There was genuine concern in her sister’s voice.
“I will. Give my love to the kids.”
“I will.”
Yvonne stared through the window. Another snow flurry had begun. So far, not much was sticking in Newtown. Just as well. She and Dewi would be driving up to Chester the following day.
She felt her focus returning, feeling better having made the call to Kim. Now all she needed was for the DCI to come up trumps with Broderick Forster.
The DCI hadn’t let her down. He came to find her in the coffee room, to let her know he had arranged for her to meet the Colonel of the Royal Welsh the following afternoon. “You’ll need to be on time and be polite.”
“Are you saying you’re worried I wouldn’t be polite?” Yvonne raised an eyebrow.
“No.” Llewellyn rubbed his chin. “Just don’t get his back up. How much freedom you have to question people, and who you get to question, will be directly down to him. You don’t have jurisdiction there, and you’ll be relying on his good will.”
“Goes without saying, sir,” Yvonne answered in clipped tones.
“Fine. I trust you to not get his back up.”
“I’m sure Dewi will keep me on track.” The DI grinned. “I thought I was the worrier.”
“And be careful.”
“Sir?”
“Whoever took that girl out is ruthless and calculating. If he’s on that base, he won’t take kindly to you poking around and rattling feathers. Be mindful of that, both for yourself and the young soldiers you’re interviewing.”
Yvonne nodded. “I really don’t want to put any more recruits in danger. I’ll tread as carefully as I can.”
DI Giles BoxSet Page 59
