by BIBA PEARCE
Jo continued, “And disposing of her clothes in his own rubbish bin? That seems a bit too obvious, even for a first-time criminal.”
“Are you thinking he was set up?” Rob indicated and pulled into the left-hand lane, so he could ponder this in more detail.
She sighed. “I don’t know, but he could have been. Think about it. If our killer wanted to get off scot-free, how better to do it than to frame someone else?”
Rob met her gaze. “And what better person to frame than the man who stole his girl from him?”
“Exactly.”
It made sense.
“I think we should check it out, don’t you?”
“Definitely.” Rob turned his attention back to the road. “Let’s pay Ben Studley a visit tomorrow morning and see what he has to say for himself.”
Chapter 19
It was a long drive back to Putney, so they stopped at a McDonald’s drive-through on the M20 to grab a bite to eat and some more coffee.
“I’ve got to start eating better.” Rob took a hungry bite of his burger. “This is becoming a habit.”
Jo laughed, unwrapping hers. “I know what you mean. When I’m on a case, my diet goes out the window.”
“You don’t need to worry,” he said, without thinking.
She hesitated, and he grimaced. Had he overstepped the line?
“Thanks,” she said, putting him at ease. “Although, I have a secret.”
“A secret?”
“Yeah. I have a treadmill at home. It helps me keep in shape and unwind in the evenings when I can’t sleep.”
When, not if. Insomnia was an occupational hazard. He had Yvette. Or he used to.
Jo was really easy to talk to. She told him she had a degree in psychology from Manchester University, which might explain it, but he was impressed, nonetheless. It was more than he could say for himself.
“How did you find yourself here?” she asked, once they were back on the motorway.
“I messed about a bit after school,” he told her. “Did some odd jobs, travelled a little, but then I started going off the rails. I was just bored, I guess. I began drinking heavily, got into a few bar fights with sleazeballs. I couldn’t stand the way they behaved.”
And he didn’t have a very good role model in his father. He hadn’t mentioned his past to any of his colleagues before — or his girlfriends, for that matter — and he wasn’t sure why he was doing so now.
“It was my uncle who suggested I join the police force. At first, I thought he was crazy. What would they want with a lout like me, right? But he wouldn’t let up, so I got used to the idea and eventually signed up.” He shrugged. “Turns out it was a good fit, after all. I did a couple of years in uniform, then applied to the criminal investigation department.” He smiled wryly. “I wanted to solve more serious crimes.” And he was ambitious, something else that had surprised him.
She finished her burger, then took a sip of her coke. “Have you always lived in Richmond?”
He liked that she wasn’t fussy about food. Yvette would never touch a McDonald’s. She’d rather starve. It didn’t make for very fun date nights.
“No, I was originally based in north London, but I got transferred to the MIT at the beginning of last year after I became a DI. They had an opening, and I thought the change might do me good.”
“And did it?”
“Yeah.” He’d shared enough. “How about you? What made you decide to become a detective?”
There was a slight pause. “My sister went missing when we were kids. There was an extensive search, the whole village turned out to help, but they never found her.”
“Christ, I’m sorry. I had no idea.” He felt bad for asking.
She smiled sadly. “That’s okay. It was a long time ago, nearly twenty years now, but I guess I’ve always had this burning desire to find out what happened to her.”
“And did you?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Is that why you studied psychology?” He knew his mate Tony had gone into the field because he’d wanted to better understand the bipolar disorder that had consumed his mother. Perhaps Jo needed to understand how someone could have taken her sister.
“It was part of it, but the workings of the human mind always fascinated me, so I figured it was as good a degree as any. My parents always wanted me to go to university. Then, after I graduated, I decided to use what I knew to catch killers, so I signed up to the Met’s fast-track recruitment programme, and five years later, here I am.”
So, his first instinct had been correct, although he’d been wrong about her being the teacher’s pet. She worked hard, he could see that, and deserved the rank she’d achieved. That would put her at roughly twenty-eight. A year younger than him. “What about family?” he asked her. “Do you ever want to get married, have your own kids?”
“Sure,” she gave him an odd look. “When the time is right. How about you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know if kids are on the cards for me.” At the moment, he didn’t even know if he was still in a relationship. Yvette had studiously ignored his texts and phone calls and wasn’t returning his messages. Perhaps he’d go over to her sister’s tonight and try to talk to her. He didn’t like the way they’d left things. It felt wrong.
“Well, you never know.” She smiled across at him. “Life is full of surprises.”
* * *
Back at the station, Rob updated his team on what they’d discovered in Kent. “We don’t know that it’s related yet,” he told them, “but Jo and I are going to Whitemoor tomorrow to have a chat with this Ben Studley.”
“Good idea,” barked Lawrence. “But let’s keep this under wraps for now. We don’t want to step on any toes. This man was tried and convicted for the murder of Bridget Kane, so we’re going to have to come up with some pretty compelling evidence before we say otherwise.”
“Gotcha.” Rob was in complete agreement. Retired DCI Becker wouldn’t look too kindly on them opening the case again. He’d staked his career on that conviction.
“Any news on the CCTV footage from the Gap store?” he asked Celeste.
She shook her head. “They don’t keep their surveillance footage longer than six months, guv.”
“Shit. Well, we always knew that was a long shot.” He bit his lip. “What about the wedding expo? Any joy there?”
Luke also shook his head. “We’ve got officers armed with the stalker’s profile shot going around to all the companies, but so far nothing. Nobody recognises him.”
“Okay, keep at it.” Rob looked at Mallory. “What about the victims’ laptops?”
“We’ve made a list of Julie’s wedding contacts as well as Sara’s, but so far there are no crossovers. I think the expo is still our best bet.”
“Right, thanks everyone.”
* * *
It was gone eight when Rob next saw Jo. Her ash-blonde hair had successfully escaped its confines and more of it was falling around her face than was left in the band. There were faint smudges of mascara underneath her eyes, and the lip gloss had long disappeared. She looked tired, but also cute and dishevelled.
“Any luck?” Rob slung his rucksack over his shoulder. He knew she’d gone to see a criminal profiler when they’d got back, and it had been a pretty long meeting by the looks of things. In the end, they’d gone with someone she’d used before and who the courts knew, rather than Tony. Secretly, he suspected she didn’t want anyone he had a connection with, as it might affect the prosecution. One thing he’d learned about her was that she was always thinking ahead.
She stifled a yawn. “Yeah, it was very useful. I see everyone’s left for the day.” Her eyes met his. “Do you want to get a drink and we can go over it?”
Rob was tempted, but he needed to see Yvette, who had now turned off her phone completely. After calling her sister, Naomi, he knew she was working the late shift tonight. She would come off at nine when the store closed, and he wanted to be th
ere to meet her after work. It was important they talk.
“I’m sorry, I’ve got plans tonight.” He was intrigued by what the profiler had come up with, and if he were honest, he would have liked to have had a drink with Jo. She was good company. “Can we take a rain check?”
“Sure.” If she was disappointed, she didn’t show it. “We can go through it tomorrow. Have a good evening.”
Rob said goodbye and left the office, just as she sank into her chair and switched on her computer. For Jo Maguire, the day was not over yet.
* * *
Harrods, which took up a whole block of prime Knightsbridge real estate, was lit up like a fairy-tale castle. Despite it being almost nine o’clock, Brompton Road was packed with people. There was a constant flow of shoppers being ushered out of the majestic building by eagle-eyed security guards. Rob stood on the corner under the tube sign and waited for Yvette to emerge. When she didn’t come out, he went inside and asked at the cosmetics department where she was. Her supervisor, an elegant middle-aged woman who wore too much make-up, said she’d got off early and had gone for drinks with some of the others at Harvey Nicks. By her wistful tone, Rob got the impression she’d much rather be there than cashing up the till.
Harvey Nichols, another familiar fixture in Knightsbridge, was the closest thing to competition that Harrods had, and sported a very fashionable cocktail bar on the fifth floor. Rob knew it well, having met Yvette there several times when they had first got together.
It was only a short walk away, and he emerged from the lift on the fifth floor less than ten minutes later. He spotted Yvette and her colleagues immediately. They were sitting on the plush orange sofas against the windows, laughing and drinking. He felt a momentary flash of annoyance that she didn’t seem to be as concerned by their current relationship crisis as he was. He recognised one or two of her colleagues, but there was a tall, bald man sitting next to her who he did not know. The man was offering her a taste of his cocktail, and Rob frowned as Yvette put her scarlet lips around the straw and sucked.
Rob approached the table. Yvette spotted him and abruptly let the straw pop out the corner of her mouth. Her eyes widened.
“Hello,” Rob said, without smiling. “I thought I’d come and surprise you.”
Yvette stood up. The man next to her looked up in interest. He had very arched eyebrows. Her girlfriends stopped talking. “Rob, why don’t you join us?” Yvette purred, beckoning to him to come and sit next to her.
He shook his head. “Can I have a word?”
She excused herself and glided over to him. The smile had vanished from her face. “You might have given me some warning,” she hissed. “You’ve embarrassed me in front of my friends.”
“So, I need to warn you before I see you now, do I? Is that so you don’t get caught with other men?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Him.” Rob nodded towards the man with the cocktail.
“Oh, please. Don’t be ridiculous. That’s Simon. He’s new and as gay as they come. Just look at him.”
Rob studied the bald man who’d been sitting next to Yvette. His pale pink shirt was open at the neck, showing a silver chain. Apart from his bald head, or perhaps to make up for it, he had a millennial-style beard and sported a trendy pair of black-rimmed spectacles. His legs were crossed in an effeminate manner and the hand that held the cocktail was pale and elegant with long, slender fingers.
Rob breathed a sigh of relief. “Sorry, I overreacted. I thought he was coming on to you.”
She shrugged petulantly. “Would you care?”
He took her arm. “Of course I would. I love you. You know that.”
She shook her head.
“Please come home. I miss you.”
Yvette gazed at him for a long moment, then she shook her head. “No, Robert. I’m having fun with my friends tonight. I don’t want to come home.”
He tried to embrace her, but she pulled away. He sighed. “We need to talk. We have to sort this out. I don’t like it when there’s conflict between us and I don’t like it when you’re not there.”
Her lips went up in a smirk. “Ah, so now you know how I feel every night.”
“It’s not every night,” he snapped, feeling the old anger return. She was being totally unreasonable. “It’s only when I have a case on, and this is an important one. Why can’t you see that?”
“I do see it,” she said. “You always have a case on, and when you don’t, you wish you did. You’d rather be out catching criminals than home with me.”
He released her arm. “Now it’s you who’s being ridiculous.”
She spun on her heel and he got a whiff of her perfume. It made him weak with longing. “Please, Yvette . . .”
She turned back, a scornful look on her face. “No, Robert. I need time to think this through. I’m not sure you’re what I want anymore. I’m sorry.”
She went back to her friends.
* * *
The stalker watched as Yvette said goodbye to her friends and left Harvey Nichols. She was a little tipsy, he could tell by the way she teetered gently on her heels. He wondered if he should take her now. It would be so easy. Her senses were dulled, she was vulnerable. All he had to do was get her alone.
But no, it wasn’t the right moment. It wasn’t perfect.
He followed her at a distance, hoodie pulled up and head bent down to avoid the street lights and the cameras. He knew they were looking for him, it was obvious. He was currently on every police officer’s most wanted list. And London was littered with CCTV cameras, not only on the street, but outside shops and department stores, in car parks and even on buses. There was no privacy anymore.
It was her fiancé, Detective Inspector Rob Miller, who was in charge of the case. He’d seen him on television, informing the public about the rape and murder of Sara Bakshi in Richmond Park. There was quite a hoo-ha about it. Richmond Park, that peaceful idyll where families let their children play and dog walkers ambled at leisure, was a safe haven no more. Now it was tainted by blood. Sara’s blood. People were scared to walk there alone, particularly after dark.
He shivered in excitement. Sometimes he couldn’t quite believe he’d done that. He’d created this atmosphere of fear and panic. Him. And she’d said he’d never amount to much.
They’d even given him a nickname, like all infamous serial killers. The Surrey Stalker. The hairs on his arms prickled in anticipation. It really was too good to be true.
He watched as Yvette went into a newsagent and bought a packet of cigarettes and a diet coke. She stood unsteadily on the pavement and lit up, inhaling deeply, clutching the cigarette between her red-painted nails. That diamond ring, that symbol of her alliance to him, flashed in the streetlights. She was an attractive woman. The stalker was looking forward to making her — making him — pay.
Yvette hailed a cab and leaned through the window to give the driver directions. He watched the way her skirt rode up the back of her thighs. Slut. It was designed to make men salivate, to long for what they couldn’t have. Despite himself, he grew hard, and rubbed himself to ease the ache. He was weak, like all men, but he was also powerful, and in those dark, secluded moments when his hands squeezed around his victims’ necks, he redeemed himself. The cabbie nodded, and she opened the back door and climbed in.
The stalker melted into the shadows. He didn’t need to follow her. He knew where she was going. “Soon,” he whispered to himself as he watched the black cab drive away. “Soon it will be your turn.”
Chapter 20
Rob got to work early thanks to a restless night. He’d been plagued with disturbing thoughts about Yvette and the sobering fact that his relationship might well and truly be over. He glanced at Lawrence’s office and saw that it was still in darkness. He raised an eyebrow. That had to be a first.
Not in the mood for crappy drip-fed coffee, he’d stopped at Starbucks and bought himself a large double-shot Americano and, as
an afterthought, an almond croissant. He was just wiping the crumbs from his mouth when DCI Sam Lawrence marched in, purposeful and efficient, despite it being only ten past eight in the morning. His boss seemed surprised to see him there.
“Morning, Rob. What are you doing sitting in the dark? You got a new lead or something?”
Like there had to be a work-related reason for his early start. “No, not yet. I couldn’t sleep, so I came in.”
Lawrence gave him a long look. “Case getting to you?”
“Nah, nothing like that. Just a bout of insomnia, that’s all. Too much caffeine. I’ll probably sleep like a baby tonight.”
“Right.” His boss’s gaze dropped to the Starbucks cup on Rob’s desk, then back up to his face again. He wasn’t buying it. Rob shifted in his chair. The DCI had a way of making him feel uncomfortable at the best of times. “You and Jo off to Whitemoor today?”
“Yeah, soon as she gets in.”
“Good. Good. How are you getting on with her?” Lawrence paused at the entrance to his office, briefcase in hand.
Rob pursed his lips. “She’s a professional. I’ve got no complaints.”
“Glad to hear it. I thought she was very nice myself. A good copper too. Excellent attention to detail, judging by her reports.”
Rob didn’t reply. He didn’t know about her attention to detail, but he did know she was easy to be with and sharp as a button, always one step ahead. Her instincts were spot on, an important factor in detective work because sometimes your gut was all you had to go on.
“I’ll let you get on.” Lawrence pushed open his office door and switched on the light. The bubble illuminated, giving Rob a perfect view of the pristine room. There were blinds to block it out, but the DCI hardly ever used them. Rob suspected it was because he secretly liked to feel like he was part of the team, despite being the one assigned to watch over them. He wondered what that would be like, being in charge. It must be quite a heady feeling, calling all the shots. But then there was the political side too, the fielding of press calls, the schmoozing with the powers that be, all the stuff Rob wasn’t very good at.
