Deadly Terror (Detective Zoe Finch Book 4)

by Rachel McLean

  “Connie, you still there?”

  “Still trying to match that Facebook account to the address Rhodri gave me. What’s up?”

  “Is Ian there?”

  “Haven’t seen him since… well since he went with DI Whaley, boss.”

  “Hmm. OK, thanks. You get off home, I don’t want you working too late.”

  Zoe’s own interview had taken just under an hour. In the meantime she’d been to the brothel, driven out to Hall Green, and followed Gatiss to Solihull. She’d taken a detour via Northfield station and was now on the Bristol Road.

  Three hours, almost four. If Ian still wasn’t finished, did that mean he was in custody?

  She hit the hands-free button.

  “You know we can’t talk right now,” Carl said.

  “Who’s to say I’m calling about the investigation?”

  “I know you, Zoe.”

  “OK. Two things. First, are we still going for a curry tonight? And second, has Ian been arrested?”

  “First: no, have you seen the time? And second, what makes you think that?”

  “He hasn’t come back into the office.”

  “I’m not telling you anything about his interview, or about the investigation, Zoe.”

  “Just tell me what time his interview finished. I’m his line manager, you need to keep me informed.”

  “As you’re also a subject of this investigation, we informed your senior officer.”

  Lesley was still in hospital. “David Randle,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  Zoe gripped the steering wheel. “Just tell me what time you let Ian go, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “Four thirty pm.”

  “And he was free to go?”

  “He was.”

  “OK.” She hesitated.

  “I’m not answering any more questions.”

  “Sorry. Shall we do that curry tomorrow, then? I can’t stand another evening in the house with my mum.”

  “She still there?”

  “God knows how I’m going to get rid of her.”

  “I’m sorry, but you know this is tricky for me. I’ve already had to talk to Detective Superintendent Rogers about a possible conflict of interest.”

  “It was interesting meeting him,” Zoe said.

  “There you go again. I’m not talking about the investigation with you. I shouldn’t have taken this call.”

  “You couldn’t resist me.”

  Zoe could hear the smile in his voice. “Maybe not. I’m sorry Zoe, but I think we should keep away from each other till this is concluded.”

  “How long will that be?”

  He sighed. “Again with the questions. I’ll see you around, Zoe. I’ll miss you.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  She turned off the Bristol Road and through the maze of houses that led to Mo’s nondescript modern home. When she arrived, she parked and sat in the car for a few minutes, staring ahead into the night. The rain had stopped and streetlights reflected off the wet road. She could smell damp: it was getting into her car somewhere. Something for her to deal with when this case was done. She hoped that would be soon.

  She heaved herself out of the car and pulled on a smile as she approached Mo’s front door. He opened it, a tea towel in his hand and a smile on his face.

  “Come in. I made biscuits.”

  “Biscuits? You only just got in from the airport.”

  “Fiona and Isla nagged me until it was easier to just do it than it was to argue with them. Come on, you can dunk one in your coffee.”

  Zoe grimaced. The coffee Mo and his wife Catriona kept in was way too good to be ruined by dunked biscuits, even homemade ones.

  She followed him into the bright kitchen. The worktops were littered with the detritus of baking. Flour dusted the surfaces, a rolling pin stuck out of the sink, and two trays of biscuits sat on a wire rack. Zoe leaned in and sniffed.

  “Gingerbread. Not bad.”

  Mo nodded. “Nothing but the best here.”

  Catriona came in, her youngest daughter clinging to her arm.

  “Hey Cat, hey Isla,” Zoe said. The girl gave her a shy smile.

  “Don’t mind me, I’m just getting this one to bed. She won’t go without a biscuit. And if she has one, her sister has to have one too.”

  “They’re still hot,” said Mo.

  Catriona laughed. “What does that matter, when you’re ten?”

  She grabbed a couple of the biscuits and handed one to Isla, who shovelled it into her mouth then gasped at the heat.

  “Serves you right,” said Mo. He kissed his daughter on the cheek and watched as her mum took her out of the room.

  Zoe leaned on the kitchen island. Mo brought the coffee maker out of a cupboard and started spooning coffee into the top.

  “So,” he said. “Tell me what happened at the brothel.”

  She recounted the events of the evening to him: checking the brothel with Rhodri, Kyle Gatiss coming out, following him to the Belvista Hotel, the woman he’d brought out, and then losing him on the way out of the city.

  “Where d’you think he was going?” Mo asked.

  “Maybe another brothel, maybe a safe house. Maybe Hamm’s got a new place, or one of the other bastards he’s in league with. Fancy houses out that way, their kind of thing.”

  “Robert Oulman lived in Solihull,” Mo said.

  Oulman was one of the three men they’d arrested as part of the Canary investigation. A businessman who’d been involved in abusing children.

  “He’s in prison,” Zoe said.

  “Yeah. What about this Facebook account? You think the woman could be in the Belvista hotel?”

  “She could be. Maybe it’s where the women who were in Curton Road are based now. Place looked big enough.”

  Mo nodded. “I’ll ask Sheila to check it out. Dawson wants me focused on the airport.”

  “What’s new there?”

  He handed her a mug of coffee. Zoe sipped, enjoying the smoothness slipping down her throat.

  “That bag they found near the gate,” Mo said. “DNA analysis is due back tomorrow morning. The prints didn’t give a match but you never know. And we’ve got CCTV. The camera inside the airport on that spot had been tampered with, but we managed to get something from a nearby house.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s not clear, and trees obscure most of it. But it looks like a group of people left the airport not long after the explosion and got out via that gate. Two vans left the scene, both with people in.”

  “Who?”

  “We can’t tell. But there were people missing from that Wizz Air plane. Women and children.”

  Zoe felt a chill grip her. “Where did they go?”

  Mo shrugged and stared back at her. “Seven kids, and six women, and we have no idea.”

  She shook her head. She knew this already. She’d been at the briefings.

  “I still don’t get how they were there at the right time though,” Mo said.

  “Maybe it’s unrelated. Maybe they were going to get them off that plane, and the explosion just made it easier.”

  “It’s a hell of a coincidence.”

  “What about the location of the explosion? Did Adi have anything more on that?”

  “Definitely in the hold.”

  Zoe stared up at the ceiling. “So not planted by someone who cut through the fence then.”

  “Nope,” Mo replied.

  “So who?”

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Zoe kicked her front door shut with her foot. She’d had a text from Nicholas saying he was going out with Zaf, so she’d stayed at Mo’s to eat dinner with him and Catriona. It had been an awkward meal: she’d wanted to talk about the case but Mo and his wife had a rule of never talking shop at dinner.

  She walked into the living room and dropped her bag on the floor. Two people sat on the sofa.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Jim glanc
ed at her mum and stood up. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  She shook her head and walked past him to the kitchen, where she switched the kettle on. Inspector Jim McManus: Nicholas’s dad. He ignored her and her son when it suited him, but liked to poke his nose in when it didn’t suit her.

  “Is this about the Digbeth Ripper?” She stood with her back to him, watching the kettle. She didn’t want to drink instant after the premium roast she’d enjoyed at Mo’s, but didn’t have the energy to set a proper pot going.

  “He told me he’s scared. Being in Birmingham. Wants to go to university as soon as he can. Did he tell you he’s applied to Stirling?”

  She turned to him. “That wasn’t on his list.”

  “You saw his list of preferences?”

  “He wouldn’t show me. Damn. He changed them.”

  “Stirling’s a long way away,” Jim said.

  “It’s his life,” she said. “If he wants to go to Scotland, then good for him.” She had no idea what the Psychology course at Stirling University was like, Nicholas hadn’t even been to an open day there.

  “Did he put that first?” she asked.

  “That’s what he tells me.”

  “He might just be trying to piss you off. I’ll talk to him when he gets home.”

  “Where is he? I’ve been here a couple of hours, and he hasn’t returned my texts.”

  “He’s out with his boyfriend.”

  “Zaf? Is that wise?”

  Zoe stared at him. “Zaf is a great kid. He loves Nicholas.” She ignored the look of doubt that crossed Jim’s face. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have him going out with.”

  Jim raised his palms. “Alright, alright. But maybe hanging around with the other kid who was attacked just brings back memories.”

  “Zaf isn’t the other kid. He’s Nicholas’s boyfriend. He’s the brother of one of my officers.”

  “I did wonder how they met.”

  “Well, now you know.” The kettle clicked behind her. Zoe turned to it and poured water over the coffee granules.

  Jim leaned against the fridge. The kitchen was tiny, barely enough space for the two of them. “I heard what happened.”

  She sipped her coffee. “Be more specific.”

  “The airport thing.”

  “The airport thing,” she said. “You mean the Professional Standards investigation into whether a member of Force CID planted evidence.”

  “Not just Force CID.”

  “Half of Birmingham could be involved in this one.”

  “But you don’t think so.” He folded his arms across his chest.

  “I’m not talking about this with you, Jim.”

  “Zoe. I know you struggle for cash, with being a single mum. If you decided to take some money, it wouldn’t be all that sur—”

  She threw out her hand and clamped it over his mouth. “Don’t you say another word. I would never take dirty money, Jim. If you don’t know that about me, you know nothing. Have you told Nicholas you think I might be capable of this kind of thing?”

  He pulled her hand off. “Course not. And I don’t really think you…” He shook his head. “Let me know if you need financial help, yes?”

  She put down her coffee before she was tempted to throw it in his face. “I think you should leave now. I’ll tell Nicholas you were looking for him.”

  “Zoe, don’t be…”

  “This is my house, and I want to go to bed. Just leave, before I do something I regret.”

  He cocked his head at her. She wanted to punch him. But he was the father of her son, and a police officer. She clenched and unclenched her fists, her gaze steady on his face.

  “Fair enough.” He turned and walked out of the kitchen, crashing into her mum who was standing on the other side of the doorway.

  Zoe glared at her. “What are you doing there?”

  Annette blushed. “Just coming to make myself a cocoa.”

  “Since when did you drink cocoa?” Annette’s idea of a nightcap was something considerably stronger.

  Annette shrugged. “Sorry.” She shuffled back into the living room. Zoe gave her a stay there look while she showed Jim to the door.

  When he’d gone, she went into the living room. Her coffee was still in the kitchen. She didn’t want it.

  “He seemed like a good man,” Annette said. “Cares about Nicholas.”

  “You have no idea what he cares about, Mum. There’s a reason I’ve kept the two of you apart all these years.” She couldn’t be bothered explaining any of this to her mum. “I’m going to bed.”

  Chapter Seventy

  Wednesday

  Zoe walked into the briefing room to find Ian sitting at the back.

  “Where did you get to yesterday?” she asked, trying not to sound as if she was accusing him of something.

  “You wanted me to find the account holder, the woman who got that photo. I went to the address.”

  “You spoke to Connie?”

  “Got it off the board. Everyone had gone by then.”

  Zoe frowned. “When was this?”

  He shrugged. “Just before seven. The address was in Ladywood, Curton Road. It was empty, all dark.”

  Where had he been, then, in the hours after his interview with Carl had ended?

  “I already went there, with Rhodri,” Zoe said. “I tried calling you.”

  “Sorry. Low signal.”

  “You should have called me back.”

  “Boss, I was knackered.” He lowered his voice. “Alison laid into me when I got home, I missed a special dinner for the kids. I was distracted.”

  She sniffed. “How is Alison?”

  “OK. Ollie’s better than he was, he’s back at school full time.”

  “That’s good. Is Alison working again?”

  Ian nodded, then pointed as the door opened and Randle came in. The room had filled up while they’d been talking. Mo was at the front with Dawson and there were more people Zoe didn’t recognise from the anti-terror unit. Sheila Griffin was behind Mo, making notes on a pad.

  The door opened again and Lesley walked in. A ripple ran through the room.

  Lesley walked towards Randle, gave him a curt nod, and sat down beside him. She had a dressing on her neck, much smaller than the one she’d been wearing when Zoe visited her, and carried her head stiffly. Her eyes looked glazed.

  Zoe wished she wasn’t back here, so far away. She waited as Lesley’s eyes roamed the room then landed on her and stopped. Her boss gave her a tight smile and she smiled back.

  “How are you?” Zoe mouthed. Lesley shrugged.

  Randle stood up. He turned to Lesley, a smile on his face.

  “Before we start, I’d like to welcome DCI Clarke back. The doctors didn’t want her coming back so soon, but well…” he turned to the room. “You know Lesley.”

  Applause broke out. Lesley acknowledged it with a tight smile and a nod of her head. “Let’s just bloody get on with it, eh? Got some terrorists to catch.”

  A ripple of laughter. Lesley widened her eyes and the room went quiet. As Randle turned on his laptop, she leaned behind him and shook hands with Detective Superintendent Silton.

  “Right, folks,” she said. “Bring me up to speed.”

  Randle leaned towards Lesley and whispered in her ear. She nodded and sat back in her chair, crossing her legs. She gave Zoe a nod.

  “Zoe, let’s get this out of the way,” said Randle. “How are we doing with identifying the New Street bomber?”

  Zoe cleared her throat. “We found a selfie that she sent to a friend via Facebook. She took it on her way to the scene.”

  “On Saturday?”

  “It was sent at 2:53pm.”

  “When did you find this?” Randle asked.

  “Yesterday afternoon.”

  “And you’re only telling us now?”

  “We spent the rest of yesterday following it up. We traced the account holder to a brothel on Curton Road that DS Uddin’s been
investigating along with DS Griffin from the Organised Crime division.”

  “Did you speak to her?” asked Lesley.

  “No, ma’am. The brothel was cleared out a few days ago.”

  “Any idea why?” Randle asked.

  Zoe looked across the room at Mo.

  “No idea,” Mo said. “But they didn’t leave in a hurry. It was planned, thorough.”

  “Because they knew you were watching them,” Randle said.

  “I believe if that had been the case, they would have been less neat. They didn’t leave in a hurry.”

  “And there was nothing left behind,” said Zoe. “No personal effects, no clothing. But when DC Hughes and I went to the site yesterday, we saw a man there.”

  “Who?” asked Randle. He leaned forward.

  “Kyle Gatiss,” Zoe replied. “If I may?”

  Randle nodded and Zoe went to the front of the room. She held up a photo of Gatiss that Connie had printed.

  “Kyle Gatiss, twenty-eight years old, no permanent residence. He was a person of interest in the Canary investigation, although we didn’t find grounds to prosecute. He’s a known associate of Trevor Hamm, Jory Shand, Howard Petersen and Robert Oulman. Oulman is currently serving a prison term. Shand and Petersen got suspended sentences, but Hamm is – well, we were unable to prosecute him either.”

  “You think Hamm was behind the brothel?” Lesley asked.

  “It makes sense. We’ve suspected him of being involved in organised prostitution before.”

  “We don’t have firm evidence though,” said Randle. “Just one of his associates being sighted at a house that DS Uddin was watching.”

  “We followed him, sir,” Zoe said. “To an address in Hall Green. The Belvista Hotel.”

  “So?”

  Zoe shrugged. “It’s just a theory right now, sir. But there may be a woman in that hotel who knew the bomber. We need to find her, and speak to her, if we’re going to find out who was behind the attack.”

  “It’s all very tenuous,” said Randle. He looked at Silton, who nodded.

  “The bar is high in a case like this,” Silton said. “By all means observe the hotel, but you won’t get a warrant to go in.”

  Zoe’s shoulders dropped.

  “We’ve got information that might change your mind,” said Dawson.