Deadly Intent

by D. S. Butler

  DI Tyler already had his suspect’s location, so it was probably a waste of time, but a nagging feeling wouldn’t leave Mackinnon. His instinct was telling him to check it out. If he didn’t, he’d spend the rest of the day wondering what he could have found at the property.

  He checked the map app on his phone and then headed left, away from the underground station. The paperwork could wait a little longer.

  A quick visit to Pine Avenue wouldn’t take long, and he’d be able to cross it off his list. One thing he’d learned being a police officer was that it paid to be thorough.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Tyler clenched his fists as DC Charlotte Brown reported the last room in the flat was empty. Neither Brendan nor Tammy was here. All the rooms were clear.

  “And there’s no sign that Tammy and Ashley were ever kept here?” Tyler asked.

  “I haven’t seen anything to indicate they were, sir,” DC Brown said. “Perhaps the search team will uncover something.”

  Tyler nodded slowly as the search team filed in ready to methodically take everything apart. There was still a chance, but in his gut Tyler felt this was a dead end.

  Just when he thought they had the culprit cornered, things shifted.

  Tyler cursed and walked away from DC Brown to look out of the large windows above the sofa. He stared out, trying to come up with a strategy. The sky was no longer an unbroken blue. Grey clouds were gathering above them, the sign of the storm to come.

  He turned away from the window, facing DC Brown again. “We need to talk to every member of his family and all his friends. We have to track him down. Does he have business premises?”

  DC Brown shook her head. “He lists this address on his tax returns.”

  “Any other properties in his name?”

  “None on record, sir.”

  Tyler let out a sigh that sounded more like a hiss. “Right, get back to the station, DC Brown. We are going to turn over every rock and look in every nook and cranny until we find this man.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said and turned to leave.

  DC Collins passed her in the doorway.

  “Did you speak to the neighbours?” Tyler asked him.

  Collins nodded. “Yes, and according to his neighbour directly opposite, he hasn’t been around for weeks. He thinks Brendan might be staying at his mother’s place.”

  “And I don’t suppose he has an address for Brendan’s mother?”

  Collins shook his head. “Sadly not. Though he said he thought it was within walking distance from what Brendan told him.”

  “Right, then get back to the station. You need to look up every other Maynard living in the area. Let’s hope she shares the same surname as her son.”

  Collins nodded and started to head out but turned before he got to the door. “I was so sure they were going to be here,” he said. “We have to catch him, sir.”

  Tyler recognised the desperation in Collins’s eyes and knew he was feeling guilty for his previous screwup with the CCTV. Officers were only human and mistakes happened, but that wasn’t going to make Collins feel any better right now.

  Tyler put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, we’ll find him. Believe me, Collins. We’ll not stop until we do.”

  As they walked across the yellowing, dry grass towards the red front door, Wendy turned back to Brendan in desperation. Underneath the hoodie casually draped over his arm, was his knife. The pointed edge pressed against her skin, a warning in case she dared to run. But she would never try to escape, not when he had her son.

  “Where is Davey?” she asked, desperation making her voice sharp.

  “Inside,” Brendan said, reaching for his keys and moving to unlock the door.

  “Please, just let him go. You have me now.”

  “I can’t just let him go,” Brendan said, shaking his head. “He’s a little boy. He’ll get lost or some nasty person will pick him up. What kind of mother are you?”

  “I could call my husband to collect him. I won’t mention you and I’ll stay here—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” He pushed open the door and shoved Wendy inside.

  The door slammed behind them, and Wendy screamed out, “Davey! Davey, where are you?”

  Brendan gave her another shove, pushing her from the hallway into the living room. “Are you trying to annoy me? Keep your voice down.”

  Wendy rushed around the living room, checking for any places a little boy could hide and then tried to make her way to the stairs.

  Brendan roughly pulled her back. “Stop. If you want to see him again, you need to do what I tell you.”

  Wendy was beside herself. She wrapped her arms around her stomach as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Okay. I will. Anything you want.”

  “Sit there.” He nodded at an old-fashioned armchair.

  Wendy did as she was told and he walked through the archway at the end of the living room that led into the kitchen. She couldn’t see him from her seat, though she could hear him moving about. Was this her chance to rush upstairs to get Davey while he was occupied?

  But she couldn’t afford to make him angry, not when there was a chance he would hurt her son.

  She sat in the chair and rocked back and forth. How had it come to this? She’d known Brendan needed help. She’d suspected delusional parasitosis for some time, but not this. She’d never expected this.

  Brendan walked back into the living room holding a scrap of material, cable ties and a glass of clear liquid. She knew without being told that it wasn’t water.

  He handed her the glass. “Drink this, then I’m going to tie your hands together with these.” He held up the cable ties. “It’s for your own safety. As long as you cooperate, you won’t get hurt and neither will your son.”

  Although her brain was screaming not to trust him, she had no choice. She couldn’t call his bluff, not when Davey’s life could be at stake.

  She took the glass from him and began to drink. It was bitter but she gulped the liquid down.

  “Very good,” he said when she passed the glass back to him. “Now put your wrists together.”

  She did as she was told, and he fastened her arms together with two cable ties, then he held up the scrap of black fabric. “I was going to use this as a gag, but if I can trust you to not make a noise, then I won’t use it.”

  Wendy nodded frantically. “You can trust me. I won’t make a noise.”

  He nodded slowly. “Okay, let’s get you upstairs.”

  Wendy got to her feet too quickly. She swayed a little and reached out her bound hands to steady herself on the chair.

  Brendan grasped her elbow, and she shuddered at his touch as he pulled her towards the stairs. She had more trouble with the steps than she’d expected. Her arms were tied together but that shouldn’t affect her balance. Whatever drugs he’d put in that drink were working quickly. She drank the stuff down willingly like a trusting fool, eager to see her son, but she was likely to be out of it within minutes. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “Is he up here?” she asked after stumbling on the top step.

  “Just up there,” Brendan said. He nodded to an aluminium ladder leading up to the loft.

  Slowly, feeling like her limbs weren’t obeying her brain, Wendy climbed the ladder with Brendan behind her. The hatch was open and she crawled out onto the wooden boards, whipping her head around, looking for Davey.

  “Davey, where are you? It’s Mummy.” Her words were slurred.

  There was no answer.

  Brendan climbed through the loft hatch behind her and then slid the cover over the opening. Wendy, still on her hands and knees, scrambled away from him. Her head was swimming and she didn’t think she could stand.

  “Where is he? What have you done with my son?”

  Brendan rolled his eyes. “I assume he’s safe at home with his father. You really don’t know me at all. I’d never hurt or involve a child in this. What kind of monster do you think I am?”

 
; Deep down, Wendy had known this was coming, but as the truth hit her and she couldn’t deny it any longer, she began to cry great heaving sobs. He’d tricked her. But at least Davey was safe.

  “Look, you don’t have to cry. I’m really not going to hurt you. I just need your help,” Brendan said. “I’m a scientist, practically a doctor like you. We’ve got a lot in common.”

  Wendy stared at him with hatred. She wanted to scream at him that they had nothing in common, that he was a sick, twisted individual who thought he could mess with other people’s lives, but she wouldn’t say that aloud. Her only chance depended on her ability to create a bond with Brendan. She needed to be more cunning and more intelligent than him. She’d allowed herself to be manipulated as he’d played on her greatest fear – the loss of her son. Now she needed to play him at his own game, press his buttons and bend his will to hers.

  “All right,” she said, through her tears. “I can work with you.”

  She blinked, looking at Brendan and realised he wasn’t standing as confidently as before. He hunched over, facing the wall. Then he flinched, curling further over inward, as though he was trying to hide.

  “What’s wrong, Brendan?”

  He was shaking. “She’s back? Can you see her?”

  Wendy looked around the dim corners of the loft. There was only one lightbulb, hanging in the centre of the large space, which made it hard to see. The ceiling was covered with some kind of black material – probably soundproofing. A few black rubbish bags were piled in one corner, but other than that, the loft was empty.

  “I can’t see anyone, Brendan. Who’s there?”

  He shook his head, still trembling. “She’s not really here. She’s dead.”

  He was hallucinating. This wasn’t good.

  “Talk to me, Brendan. She can’t hurt you if she is dead.”

  He screwed his eyes shut. “I’m not dirty. It’s not my fault.” He dropped to his knees.

  Wendy tried to move towards him, but the floor seemed to shift beneath her. The drugs were making her woozy. “Who is it, Brendan? Who’s talking to you?”

  He kept his eyes shut, and his lip wobbled as he spoke. “It’s my mother. She won’t leave me alone. I only ever wanted to help her, but I was never good enough.”

  “Maybe she loved you but found it hard to tell you that.”

  “No, she hates me. She thinks I’m dirty and good for nothing. She told me she never wanted to see me again. She said I made her skin crawl.”

  “Brendan, she was probably very angry at the time and said things she didn’t mean. We all get angry sometimes and lose our tempers. Take some deep breaths and look at me, Brendan.”

  The drugs were affecting her vision now, it seemed like she was looking at Brendan through a long, dark tunnel.

  “I tried so hard. After she said she never wanted to see me again, I thought up an idea. It was stupid, but I hoped it would work. I put the bugs in her house. I thought she would call me for help. She knew it was my job, but she didn’t ask for my help. She called another company. I was never good enough.”

  He flinched as though someone had hit him and curled up in a ball on the floor. “I’m sorry. I only tried to help. Please, go away. Please.”

  Mackinnon approached the third address on his list. It was a small terrace, owned by Mrs Penny Crumb.

  The house looked ordinary enough, a two up, two down. The windows were old and had aluminium frames but were clean. The property itself appeared to be well-maintained. The garden was another matter. Long yellow, dry grass covered the small, square section of lawn at the front of the house. Weeds covered the narrow flowerbeds. Mackinnon paused by the gate.

  The curtains were open. No lights were on, but then they wouldn’t be at this time of day. Though the sky was now dark with heavy clouds, threatening to burst. Close to the front door was an outdoor tap that dripped onto the concrete.

  Next door a man, who looked to be in his sixties was busy weeding. He looked up and nodded when he noticed Mackinnon standing at the gate, but didn’t speak.

  Mackinnon walked up the path and knocked on the front door and waited. As he’d expected there was no answer.

  “Do you know your neighbours well?” Mackinnon asked the man next door.

  The man set down his hoe. “I used to get on with Penny. But I don’t know the lad well. He tends to keep to himself. Doesn’t look like he’s home.”

  “So Penny Crumb doesn’t live here any more?”

  “No, sadly she passed away. About six months ago, I think it was. Her son lives here now. Penny used to keep the garden well,” he said, nodding at the yellowing patch of grass. “But young’uns don’t take the same sort of care, do they? Can’t really blame them. I sometimes think it’s a thankless task. My back is aching from all the weeding, and I’ve still got to spray the roses today.”

  “Do you know Penny’s son’s name?”

  The man sucked in air through his teeth and looked up at the sky. “I should know it. But it escapes me at the moment. Sorry. Were you a friend of Penny’s?”

  Mackinnon shook his head and discretely held out his warrant card. “I’m from the City of London police. DS Jack Mackinnon.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “Oh, is the boy in trouble? He didn’t really seem the type to do anything illegal. Drugs, is it?” He sighed. “Neighbourhood is going to the dogs.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Trevor, Trevor Cranson.”

  “Have you seen him bring any women back here, Trevor?” Mackinnon asked.

  “Funny you should ask, he came home not long ago, maybe half an hour, with a woman. I don’t like to pry, but I paid a bit more attention than I normally would because she seemed upset.”

  Was he referring to Tammy? “What did she look like?”

  “Um, short, brown hair, quite a tall lady. Mixed race, I think.”

  That didn’t sound like Tammy.

  Mackinnon pulled out his mobile and opened up a photograph of Brendan.

  “Is this him?” Mackinnon asked.

  The old man looked at the picture and nodded. “Yeah, that’s him.

  “Brendan?”

  “Oh, yes that’s it! Of course, sorry. I’m terrible with names, but now that you’ve said it, I remember. His name is definitely Brendan.”

  “Thanks, you’ve been really helpful.”

  “No problem. Happy to help. Well, if you don’t need anything else, I’d better make a start on my roses. Although it looks like we’re about to get a downpour.”

  “Actually,” Mackinnon said, “I think it’s probably better if you head inside for a while.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m not afraid of a few drops of rain.” Trevor chuckled, misinterpreting Mackinnon’s warning.

  “I’m not referring to the rain.”

  The old man paled. “So Brendan has done something wrong then.”

  Mackinnon nodded. “Possibly. It’s probably safer if you stay inside for the next few hours.”

  As the man scurried inside, Mackinnon scanned the windows. There was no sign that someone inside was watching him, but he didn’t want to tip Brendan off. If he was watching, Mackinnon wanted him to think he’d given up.

  He walked away but stopped at the end of the street and pulled out his phone to call DI Tyler. He still had a view of the address. Maybe Tyler had already made an arrest and found Tammy Holt, but if he hadn’t, Mackinnon thought this could well be where Brendan Maynard was hiding out.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Tyler took a while to answer Mackinnon’s call. When he finally picked up, he said, “Bad news, I’m afraid, Jack. There was no sign of Brendan Maynard at the flat. According to the bloke who lives opposite, he hasn’t been there for a few weeks.”

  Tyler’s update convinced Mackinnon he’d discovered where Brendan Maynard had been staying.

  “I think I might have something. I’m at the third address on my list—Penny Crumb’s property, 9, Pine Avenue. Ther
e was no answer, so I spoke to her neighbour. He said she died a few months ago and her son is living there now. And get this, the son’s name is Brendan.”

  “Wait a minute? Did you say Penny Crumb?”

  “Yes.”

  He heard Tyler shouting at someone in the background and the muffled, scratchy sound of a hand covering the phone.

  “We’ve been trying to track down his family, and I’ve got a copy of his birth certificate here somewhere. His last name is Maynard—from his father. But Brendan’s parents never married. His mother’s surname is Crumb. I’m sure of it. Ah yes, here it is. Penny Crumb.”

  “So it’s got to be where he’s been keeping Ashley and Tammy.”

  “It looks that way, but don’t do anything stupid, Jack. I’m sending an urgent response unit there now, and I’m getting in the car myself.”

  It sounded like Tyler was walking while talking on the phone. Every so often, his conversation was punctuated with orders to officers at the station.

  “I showed the neighbour the CCTV still,” Mackinnon said, “and he identified him as Penny Crumb’s son, Brendan.”

  “All right, it sounds like we’ve got him. DC Brown, you’re coming with me.”

  Charlotte’s response was too quiet for Mackinnon to hear.

  “Do you think he’s there now?” Tyler asked.

  “I don’t know if he’s at home. He’s not answering the door if he is. All the curtains are open and everything looks normal. There’s a garage block to the left of the property. That might be worth a look, too.”

  “All right. Understood.” Tyler then barked an order at DC Webb before returning to his conversation with Mackinnon. “Your job is to sit tight and watch the property until we get there. We don’t want him slipping out, but we don’t want any heroics either, okay Jack?”

  “Okay, but–”

  “No buts!”

  “I understand, but–”

  “But what, Jack?” Tyler shouted, exasperated.

  “Brendan’s neighbour said he had a woman with him when he returned to the property about half an hour ago.”