DS Strange, ashen faced, appeared at his shoulder. Barton almost asked after her health but settled for a breezy, ‘Okay?’
‘Fine,’ she replied.
Sirena, the CSM, had been in the police station when he’d left and said she’d follow. She drove into the area in front of them and gave Barton a wave that reminded him of one he’d received in an assembly at school from a girl who then proceeded to stalk him.
Strange tutted next to him. ‘She’s an oxymoron.’
‘What’s one of them?’
‘In her case, she’s an intelligent fool. Bright lady, but she must be mad to find your lumbering ass attractive.’
Barton smiled. His relationship with Strange was changing. Two uniforms were leading the baby and mother towards a patrol car with flashing lights. Barton found Ginger inside the shared kitchen. He had contained the crime scene. Two very normal men with rifles stood next to him as well as DS Zander and DC Whitlam. Barton nodded at the younger rifleman.
‘Listen up, guys,’ said Barton. ‘That retired Inspector Griffin who lives down my street had a neighbour in his bungalow when I visited a while back. At the time, I didn’t know Griffin’s name. When I asked her, she said that she calls him Mr Smith. He was asleep. When I mentioned that to him later, he didn’t know anything about it; said his name had always been Griffin.’
Barton stared at their blank faces. ‘Her name is Smith, not his. She was messing with me.’
‘Wow, that is icy behaviour,’ said Whitlam.
Barton glowered at him. ‘Do you admire her? Scary is a better description, there is no wow.’ Barton thought for a moment. ‘She was short, yes?’
Ginger nodded.
‘This little old lady lives down your street?’ asked Strange.
‘I’m an idiot. I’ve also seen her in a white coat. I just never thought it would be a woman. She’s been living as Ronnie Smith, not Veronica. Let’s go there now and at least block the cul-de-sac off. How about you boys kick the door down?’
The younger of the two armed men laughed. ‘I’m not kicking anything with a loaded gun behind it if I can help it. Your man here brought me up to speed on the whole thing. You think she’ll have returned to her house after being rumbled?’
Barton frowned. ‘Probably not. She’ll know we’re looking for her now that Ginger’s seen her close up. Unless she’s gone back for an OK Corral type ending.’
‘Exactly. We don’t have the equipment for that sort of situation. I’ll ring for the Tactical Firearms Unit. They’ll send a van. They’ve got smoke grenades, sniper rifles and the rest if necessary.’
‘How long will that take?’ asked Strange.
‘They should be here within the hour,’ the older rifleman answered. ‘I’m on that team too, so I understand the procedures. We all have other jobs because we have few shootouts.’
Barton knew that. He had never been at a scene where they’d called the TFU.
‘Call them up, then. What’s your name?’
‘I’m Jules Cureton. Call me Jules. Everyone knows Alistair.’
‘Yes, I trained Alistair when he first started.’
Alistair, a short barrel-chested man with a Scottish accent, laughed. ‘Aye, and it took me a long time to unlearn it afterwards.’
‘Okay, Jules, Al, what’s the process with approaching the house?’ asked Barton.
They got Barton to explain the layout of the street. He filled them in on what he suspected and the history of the snow killings.
Jules replied. ‘We’ll cordon off the road halfway down. She’s armed with a pistol at least, so she might be a threat to the public. However, this sounds like scores being settled. If she’s there and in the bungalow and there aren’t any hostages, at least she’s contained.’
Al took over. ‘This isn’t TV. That’s her house, and she knows the layout. Going in there blind would be extremely dangerous and unnecessary if lives aren’t at risk. We’ll cover the exits and she’ll come out when she’s ready. If she leaves shooting, we take her down, but they rarely do. Most times they give up or turn the gun on themselves.’
‘Will we go down the street with sirens blaring?’
‘I was coming to that,’ said Jules. ‘It’s a residential road. We need to get everyone inside or preferably elsewhere if they’ve got somewhere they can go. That’ll be easier if people aren’t panicking. We’ll park up like we’re visiting a friend. I doubt she will have gone back anyway. In this weather, even if she has, she may not even see us. Once the area is controlled, the negotiator will communicate by loudspeaker or we’ll ring them if we can get the number. Failing that, we throw a mobile phone through the window.’
Barton’s phone rang. He spoke quickly and quietly and finished the call.
‘That’s DCI Naeem. She’s on her way. Go ahead with the containment but don’t try to initiate contact until she arrives. She’ll sort the negotiator.’
Zander cleared his throat. ‘I’m poised and ready.’
Barton wondered about the man’s state of mind for the job, but of all the people present, only Zander had trained for it. Barton briefed those attending with the order in which the vehicles would arrive and sent DC Whitlam to the hospital to see if he could prise any more information out of Britney.
Had he missed anything? There didn’t seem to be anyone else as a target he could think of now she’d got to both of the sisters. Was her work done? He couldn’t say why, but he didn’t think so.
65
DI Barton
Barton cast a worried look at his house as they coasted down the street. He needed to stop this killer. In his mind, he expected an empty, barren wilderness devoid of life and a view littered with frozen cars. Instead, he gazed at two little kids in bright yellow jackets sliding in the snow at the end of the cul-de-sac. A shiny blue car drove past them, which must have just come out of a garage to be so clean. Barton stopped fifty metres from the bottom of the street where Jules said they would form an outer cordon to keep people and traffic out.
The response vehicle carried on and parked opposite the house but on the other side of the road. The man who lived next door to Veronica Smith shovelled snow from his path. He slowly rose as the men with guns took positions to cover the house. The shovel dropped from his hands.
Jules beckoned Barton’s team to start. They’d agreed that the detective team would clear people off the street while the firearm pair covered the property. Jules and Al wanted to get the road empty as fast as possible and thought that it was safer to do it straight away rather than wait for a shooter to come out blazing.
Barton’s people spread out. Shovel guy’s mouth dropped open and he moved towards his kids. Barton directed Strange and Rodgers to collect the kids. He instructed Zander and Malik to go to each house and inform the residents.
Barton approached the now worried man.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Barton. We have a situation here and need everyone in their houses. Are they your children?’
‘Yes.’ He put his arm around their shoulders after they were shepherded over. ‘What’s happening?’
‘We’ll go inside to discuss this.’ It wasn’t a choice.
Barton asked Strange and Rodgers to help the door knockers, especially as Smith’s bungalow looked so innocuous. There were no lights on, and the lounge curtains were wide open.
Once inside the neighbour’s house, the man took his kids’ coats and boots off, gave them a bag of crisps each, and plonked them in front of the TV. He ushered Barton into the kitchen.
‘I don’t understand,’ he said.
‘I can’t explain too much, but there could be a dangerous person next door.’
‘In Ronnie’s bungalow?’
‘Yes. How well do you know her?’
The man considered his answer. ‘Not particularly, to be honest. She’s quiet. We see her walking around, and she says hello. She sometimes buys the kids sweets from the shop, but she gives them to me, not them. Just so I’m happy and c
an stop them eating them all at once. I usually clear her path of snow.’
Barton couldn’t remember the condition of the path. ‘How long have you been out in the street today?’
‘A good while. At least three quarters of an hour. We came straight out after my wife went to work, so 9:00.’
Barton wracked his brain. Britney was shot after that, so if the Snow Killer had returned, this man would have seen her coming.
‘Did you see Ronnie return to her house this morning, around 9:15?’
‘No, that’s what I’m trying to say. I saw her yesterday morning when she was getting in a taxi. I asked her if she wanted her path cleared and she said no because she’d be away for a few weeks.’
‘You haven’t seen her since?’
‘No, she had a suitcase with her. I assumed she was off to the airport or something.’
‘Okay. Hopefully we’ll get this resolved fast. Do you have somewhere else you can stay today? A relative?’
‘My sister lives just around the corner in Baggswell Lane. I could go there.’
Barton shook his head. ‘That’s too close. No, stay here for the moment. Do not set foot outside and keep away from the windows at the rear and side. Pull down the blinds if you have any. I’ll be back soon.’
Barton had a final thought. ‘Can you recall the name of the taxi company?’
‘A2B. I remember because it’s the same firm I use.’
When he returned outside, DCI Naeem approached on foot. They got in Barton’s car.
‘The neighbours have been informed. Anything else to update me with?’
‘I’ve just spoken to the immediate neighbour. She left yesterday with a suitcase, telling him that she was going away for a while. Took an A2B taxi. The house looks empty. He’s been shovelling snow and playing with his kids out here since nine. He didn’t see her come back. I don’t think she’s there.’
‘Right. I’ll check the situation with the ARV guys.’
‘I reckon I should go and knock. We’re wasting time here.’
‘Don’t be daft, John. I know you want to solve this, but we don’t do anything stupid. There’s no risk to anyone if she’s in there. We don’t want her to start shooting. The TFU will be here soon. Control the neighbours for me.’
‘I’d like to be the negotiator.’
‘No problem. Shall I see if they have a course running this morning for you?’
Barton sighed. The course had been on his development plan for seven years.
‘The more time we spend here, the better chance she has of getting away.’
‘We don’t put lives in danger, you know that. The duty Super is Braithwaite. He’s initiating the major incident plan and will be Gold Commander. He’ll make the calls with Firearms and the Tactical Advisor. They’ve summoned a negotiator. I’m Bronze Commander dealing here until the unit arrives.’
‘Shall I just get a few coffees from my house?’
‘That’s the spirit, John.’
‘I was joking.’
‘We’ll only try to initiate contact when everyone’s here, and further decisions will be made from that point onwards. We could be here for days.’
Barton stomped back to his home. And still it snowed.
66
DI Barton
Barton left his house twenty minutes later with three flasks and some plastic cups. Holly had agreed to take their family to a friend’s house until the situation was resolved. DCI Naeem was still in his car. ‘Anything?’
‘No. The property looks very empty.’
‘I’ll ring A2B taxis. I should have done it straight away, sorry.’
‘That’s okay. I didn’t think of that immediately either. Zander rang them. They were a little evasive, so he’s gone down to talk to them personally.’
The Firearms Unit parked up, and Barton spotted heavily armed men slip down the sides of the neighbouring houses. Naeem remained permanently on the phone. The remaining neighbours had been warned to keep away from the windows. Barton could see another cordon further up. He noticed the odd vehicle stopped there and turned around. Just the BMW of the Armed Response team and the newly arrived truck were behind it.
Malik knocked on a window and told them that everyone they’d spoken to in the other properties had left. Barton asked after the retired Inspector, but Zander had said no one answered the door. At that point, Naeem finished her call and let out a deep breath.
‘What’s the plan, Boss?’ said Barton.
‘We watch the property. It looks dead but Gold Command doesn’t want any risks taken. He wants her alive.’ Naeem rolled her eyes at him. ‘The negotiator’s ETA is five minutes. He’ll deal from my car. If we have no contact by midday then they’ll deliver a mobile phone.’
The negotiator turned up thirty minutes later. Barton recognised him. He was a florid man who smelled as if he’d run behind schedule because he’d been to Burger King. Barton liked the smell and the man. He knew his job. Two hours later, after repeated failed attempts with the loudhailer, two armoured men edged towards the front door. One held the ballistics shield while the other posted an envelope containing a mobile through the letter box. They both retreated. The snow had stopped, so Barton could see the front window. Nothing moved.
Three hours later, Barton watched as an armed team of four battered the door down with a ram. Five minutes later, one of them came out. She indicated an empty house to Naeem.
Naeem and Barton made their way inside. With a shattered entrance, it felt like walking into a freezing crypt. On the kitchen table they found a note to them.
Dear Police. Thanks for popping in. If you have the chance, water the plants.
Two hours later, the armed officers had departed apart from Jules and Al, who secreted themselves under a neighbour’s carport. They would be relieved by another unit at 22:00. The road was reopened, and the team left. They’d leave the situation like that for the moment in case she returned but that didn’t seem likely. A neighbouring county needed the Firearms Unit for a drugs raid. CSI would arrive in the morning.
There had been no sightings or further intel on Veronica Smith. A taxi card was found in the house, but Zander had already tracked her to the Marriott Hotel where she’d left her clothes and wash bag. A despondent team returned to the incident room. DCI Naeem entered the office. Her shoulders drooped like many others.
‘Thanks for today,’ she said. ‘It’s been a strange one. The girl who survived the shootings in the sixties was a Veronica Smith. She vanished, never to be seen again. We’ve confirmed the identity of the shooter as Ronnie Smith. It looks like the same woman, but their dates of birth don’t match. A year younger and a different day and month.’
Zander put his hand up. ‘She could have changed it when she took the name Ronnie Smith.’
‘Yes, that’s most likely. Britney Chapman will be fine. The bullet penetrated the fleshy part of her thigh. Why wasn’t she killed like the others? Ginger said that he didn’t disturb the shooter. She was already finished so where is she now? Her house has been left as though she won’t be returning, and her toothbrush, amongst other things, remains in the hotel room.’
‘She could be leaving the country,’ said Strange.
‘There’s no passport for Ronnie Smith. Her cupboards are full of medication, which we’ve linked to Parkinson’s disease. We can’t get to her medical records, but that makes me think she might be ending it soon. Any thoughts? Yes, John.’
‘I don’t understand letting Britney live at all. Look how ruthless she’s been with the other kills. We must have missed something. I know we’re checking other hotels, although I assume she would pay in cash. Her family are all dead, so that limits our options. She literally could be anywhere in the country.’
Ginger spoke up. ‘Not with Parkinson’s. I don’t believe she intends to live very long. She’d need to keep in touch with her doctor for repeat prescriptions, or she would’ve taken the pills with her. Perhaps she’s going to do somethin
g dramatic. She might already have taken her own life.’
‘I’ve got a theory.’ Strange jumped to her feet. ‘Shit, why didn’t I think of this before? We thought Celine was the big cheese, but she’d been straight for years when she died; a model citizen, in fact. Britney still dealt, but she’s hardly the type to be running a crime syndicate. Where is she getting her product from? There’s got to be someone fairly local further up the chain.’
Naeem wrote Britney’s name on the board. ‘Brilliant, Kelly.’ She pointed an arrow upwards from Britney. ‘Who is it here? Britney doesn’t want to tell us anything as it incriminates her. Did Smith spare her because she revealed this person’s name? I bet that’s where she’s gone. The head of the snake is all that remains. We need to find out who Mr or Mrs Big is around here. If the Snow Killer is still alive, they’re going to be next.’
67
The Snow Killer
It’s just past nine at night, and the Colonel and I are struggling. After shooting Britney, I strode to the Colonel’s property as fast as I could. Unsure what to do and not wanting to hang around in the cold opposite the detective’s house, I rang his doorbell. He opened it and clung to the doorframe. It was difficult to believe the things that Britney told me. But time has no friends. We all wither under its assault. I know that as surely as anyone.
He attempted to shut the door on me but stopping him was no effort at all. I shoved him into the house and he wobbled backwards, glancing at the floor with fear. When I got him back to the lounge, he collapsed into an armchair, gasping. I hunted through his drawers to find something to restrain him. I might have known he’d have duct tape. Well, it was actually packing tape, but that was fine for a weak old man. I wound it around the big recliner, under his armpits, and around his chest. It made me laugh – the ridiculousness of it – until I remembered what he’d done.
The Snow Killer Page 22
