“It always smells good when I’m cooking. Now if you don’t mind…” Mrs Brooking pushed the door.
“Whose is the other car?” asked Zoe. “Is it Mr Hamm’s?”
Mrs Brooking laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t seen Mr Hamm for weeks.”
“But here you are, cooking dinner in his house.”
“It isn’t his house now. He sold it.”
“To RJ Holdings.”
“Yes.”
“Who you now work for,” remarked Zoe.
“That sounds like quite a coincidence to me,” said Sheila.
“I get my work via word of mouth. If my clients have other business transactions, then that’s their concern.” She pushed the door further.
Zoe put out a hand to stop it. “It will be much easier if you just let us in.”
“Do you have a warrant?”
“Not yet,” said Sheila. Zoe glanced back towards the road. She wondered if Randle was watching. Had he taken advantage of the diversion to break in again?
“Well, then. Good evening.” The woman closed the door.
Sheila turned to Zoe. “That was a waste of time.”
“Not entirely. We now know this place is owned by the same company that owns the gym. And that she’s employed by them and by Petersen. I’d say that’s enough of a connection to get a search warrant for the gym.”
“You don’t think we should search this place?”
Again Zoe thought of Randle. “Maybe. But it’s just a house.”
She reminded herself that Sheila knew nothing about Anita Randle. Was Zoe doing the right thing, hiding her disappearance?
Had she even disappeared? Randle might have lied to get Zoe to go along with him.
“The gym is right next to the spot where we found Petersen,” she pointed out.
“True.” Sheila turned back towards the cars. “Come on, then.”
“The gym?”
“I’ll call for authorisation on the way.”
“I’ll do that,” said Zoe, a little too fast.
Sheila eyed her. “Why are you here, anyway?”
“I had the same information as you. We came to the same conclusions.”
“Shouldn’t you be grieving for your mum? Sorry, that came out harsh.”
“It’s OK. We weren’t close.”
“Still…”
They were at the cars now.
“We need to move. She’ll have phoned ahead,” said Sheila. She jumped into her car. DC Sarpong already had her foot on the gas.
Zoe walked to her own car. Force CID would be here any minute. She had to hope Sheila wouldn’t pass them.
Randle was in the driver’s seat. Zoe yanked open the door.
“I locked it,” she said.
He shrugged. “You were nearby, the key was in your pocket. Remote locking, see?”
“Let me drive.”
“Get in the passenger seat, DI Finch.”
“We have to wait for Force CID.”
He shook his head. “Call them. She’s not here.”
“How do you know?”
“What do you think I was doing while you were chatting on the doorstep?”
So he had broken in. “The gym is definitely owned by Hamm,” she said as she slid into the passenger seat.
“Course it is. You call Force Response, quickly. We need to hurry.”
He floored the accelerator and she held onto the door handle as they sped off.
Chapter Eighty-Three
“Play it again,” said DS Uddin. “Can you get closer?”
Connie was glad the video was higher quality than the rubbish they usually got. With the dark night, and the distance to the reservoir, that was the only thing preventing this recording from being utterly useless.
“Good,” said the sarge. “Start there.”
Connie hit play and the car reappeared at the side of the screen. The team had gathered around her, leaning over her shoulders to get a better look. Her skin tingled.
Once again, the two men got out. One went to the boot while the other watched. The first man turned to speak to his companion, who approached him. The two of them manhandled something out of the boot.
“That’s Jukes?” Connie asked.
“Has to be,” replied Mo. She could feel his breath on her neck.
The bundle was misshapen, wrapped in something. It was the right size and shape to be a body, twisted over.
“What’s he got round him?” Rhodri asked.
“Looks like a sheet,” said Connie.
“Something we can trawl the reservoir for,” added the sarge.
“Forensics are going to love that,” commented Rhodri.
“Keeps the divers busy.”
“Look,” said Connie. She pointed to the other edge of the screen. Another car approached. It parked facing the camera.
“Thanks, mate,” said Solsby. “Nice square view there. Good to know there are some considerate criminals about.”
“Might just be a witness,” said Connie.
“They’ve spotted him. If he’s just a witness, he’s about to become a second victim.”
“There weren’t any abandoned cars at the site,” Connie said. “If they’d killed him…”
“They’d have moved it,” said the sarge. “Hush. Let’s watch.”
The two men from the first car hauled the body up between them and walked towards the water. They looked confident, like they’d done this before. A shiver ran down Connie’s back.
The man from the second car stayed by his vehicle. He leaned against its side and watched, arms folded across his chest.
“He’s part of it,” she said. “Has to be.”
“Maybe he’s the boss,” Rhodri suggested. “Checking they’re doin’ their job properly.”
“You want me to pause it?” asked Connie. “See if I can get a better look at him?”
“Please,” said the sarge.
She clicked the mouse a few times. The image was of a balding man, heavily built, average height. Apart from that, she couldn’t make out any distinguishing characteristics. His face was blurred.
“Zoom in on the plates,” said Solsby.
Connie did as he suggested, her tongue moving across her teeth as she worked. “Whoah.”
“Perfect,” said the sarge. “Rhodri…”
“Got it, Sarge.” Rhodri scooted round to his desk to bring up the vehicle database.
Connie’s eyes flicked from the screen to Rhodri and back again. He stared at his screen, sniffing.
“Hurry up,” she said.
“Going as fast as I can. This system is bloody slow.”
She zoomed back out and restarted the video. Watching Rhodri wouldn’t help him do his job. And the plates would be false, anyway.
“Got it,” said Rhodri. He looked up, his eyes alight.
Connie stared back. “What?”
The sarge hurried round to Rhodri’s side of the desk. He put both hands to his cheeks, his mouth wide. “We’ve got him.”
“Who?” Connie’s heart was thudding in her ears.
Mo grinned at her. “That car is a 2018 Jaguar XF. Registered to RJ Holdings.”
Chapter Eighty-Four
“I’ll get out here.” Randle slapped the steering wheel. He stopped the car and slid out, disappearing into the shadows behind the Co-op supermarket.
Zoe shuffled across to the driver’s seat and started the ignition. If she was going to alert Mo, or maybe Carl, now was the time.
Sheila was standing in the road as Zoe turned the corner past the waste ground where they’d found Petersen. Zoe stopped and opened her window.
“I’ve had a call from Gordon.” Sheila was out of breath.
“Gordon?”
“DC Solsby. He’s working the forensics and CCTV with your guys. They’ve got video of Jukes being dumped in the reservoir.”
Zoe jumped out of her car. “When?”
“Eighteen days ago. It gets better.”
“How?”
“Two cars. One had the body. Two guys got it out the boot and chucked him in the water. The other car had a man. He stood and watched. He was part of it.”
“And?”
“The second car is registered to RJ Holdings. It’s a Jaguar.”
“The one sitting in the drive back at…”
“I’ve put out an alert for that registration. And Uniform are on their way to the house. If he tries to run, we’ll get him.”
Zoe clenched her fists. She turned towards the gym. “We go in. Now.”
“Shouldn’t we go back? If his car is parked at the house…”
Zoe looked Sheila in the eye. She’d worked closely with Sheila on Canary, back when she’d been a DS. But she was the other woman’s senior officer now.
She could give the order, and refuse to brook questions. Or she could give Sheila the respect she deserved.
“I think they’re holding a woman in there.”
“What? Who?”
Zoe scanned the area. It was too late to protect Randle; she had nothing to gain from it.
“Anita Randle.”
“The Super’s wife?”
Zone nodded, taking in Sheila’s narrowed eyes.
“How long have you known about this, ma’am?”
“Not long.”
“It’s been reported?”
“Randle told me.”
“How?”
“We just need to get in there. If they’ve seen us, they’ll kill her.”
Sheila turned towards the gym. “You got authorisation?”
“From the Super.”
“Really?”
“Check, if you need to.”
“I will.”
Zoe waited while Sheila called Command. She’d be in deep shit once this was over. Knowing a woman had been abducted and not calling it in. Working with Randle despite everything she knew about him.
And Carl would never forgive her.
“You’re right,” said Sheila. “Let’s go.” She started towards the fence that separated the gym from the road.
Zoe scanned the hedge opposite the gym and the railings closest to her as she ran to keep up with Sheila. Had Randle heard their conversation?
“We have to wait for Force Response,” Zoe said. “They’re on their way.”
Cars pulled up behind them: two squad cars and a dark unmarked vehicle. PS Ford emerged from the unmarked car.
He put out a hand which Zoe shook, then Sheila.
“DI Finch. Good to work with you again.”
“Likewise. This is DS Griffin from Organised Crime. Joint operation.”
“What have we got?”
“The gym over there” – Zoe gestured towards it – “belongs to Trevor Hamm. Wanted on multiple counts of—”
“I know who Trevor Hamm is.”
“That makes thing simpler. We believe the premises are linked to the murder of Howard Petersen, found on that land over there, and of Dwayne Jukes, who was brought out of Edgbaston Reservoir earlier today.”
“Organised crime, double murder and terror activities,” he said. “It’s your lucky night, DI Finch.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“OK. I’ve got a team of six with me. Three of us will take the front, three are already finding position at the back. You’ve already got your stab vest on.”
“Yes.”
“We’ll knock on the door, but you be with us. OK?”
Zoe had done this before. She nodded assent.
“There might be a civilian in there,” said Sheila.
“Who?” asked Ford.
“IC1 female, mid to late forties,” replied Zoe. “Not a purple-haired Scottish woman. If she’s in there, arrest her.”
He spoke into his radio.
“I’m waiting for your order, ma’am.”
“Of course.” Zoe took one last look at Sheila, who had adopted her pissed off look again. Right at that moment, Zoe hated herself.
“Go,” she told Ford.
Chapter Eighty-Five
Anita sat hunched in the opposite corner of the room from her toilet space. She was cold and dirty, her clothes felt slimy, and her stomach growled repeatedly.
They’d brought her a bottle of water, and a packet of Hobnobs. She’d devoured the biscuits greedily then thrown up. She’d brought up the water too, and it had been hours before they’d brought more.
If no one came for her soon, she was going to pass out. She didn’t care who it was: at least if it was that Scottish woman, she might bring more water. Food, too. Not that Anita held out much hope of being given any. The woman had made her disgust clear when she’d brought the second bottle of water. “I’m not cleaning that up, yer posh bitch.”
She’d heard people moving around nearby for the last few hours. It sounded like they were running, or lifting weights. Men’s voices, sharp and easy. Her captors, or someone else? Were there people using this building who didn’t know she was in here?
She’d tried using her tongue to push the gag off but had only succeeded in making it tighter. When she’d drunk the water they’d yanked it down onto her chin. It had made it difficult to drink and she’d lost half of the water down herself. Her shirt was still damp.
Anita wrapped her arms around herself. David must have alerted his colleagues by now. Her captors knew who she was married to, they’d made that clear. Was this related to an investigation? Was it connected to that photo? And if so, did he know where she was?
He’d have been here by now if he did, half of Force CID in his wake. Even with the photo of that woman, Anita knew enough to understand that David would never abandon her.
A few cars had come and gone outside throughout the day but it seemed the people beyond the wall had come on foot. She wondered what this building was. Where it was. There were no clues from what she could hear. No trains, no buses, no factory sounds.
She scuttled along the wall and raised herself up to lean into the window, listening. If she heard someone, she would bang the glass as hard as she could. It didn’t matter if she cut herself.
She heard voices, distant, from below. Was that…?
It was.
“Police!”
They were here for her. David had come.
She felt a gust of air as the door opened.
“Move!” came a voice. A man.
She shrank back against the wall. She put her hand against the glass and drew it back, but he grabbed her wrist and twisted it.
She cried out in pain.
“Shut up, bitch. Come with me.”
He hauled her up and she struggled to get her footing. Her legs were numb and her right foot ached. He dragged her out of the door and along what felt like a corridor. She put out a hand as far as she could and swept it along a wall as they moved.
Another door was opened – kicked – and she was flung forward. She landed heavily on her front, her right shoulder catching the brunt of it. She felt pressure on her feet and pulled them in.
A door slammed. She turned, panicking: it had been behind her. She was in total darkness now, nothing visible around the edges of the blindfold.
She slammed her body into the door but it didn’t budge.
“Quiet! You don’t want me to come in there.” The same man.
She pulled in a sour breath and fell back against something sharp, wincing. The ache in her foot had turned from a thrum to a stab. Her shoulder screamed at her. She wished she could reach it, to feel if it was damaged.
She tried to scream. She hurled herself against the door. The police were here. She had to tell them she was inside.
The door gave against her weight. She fell to the floor beyond it, every muscle on fire.
A kick landed in her stomach. She curled up, wishing her hands weren’t tied behind her back. She wanted to fold in on herself, to protect her vital organs.
Another kick, this time to her back. She screamed, the sound muffled.
“Shut the
fuck up.” A mouth was close to her ear, breath hot on her skin. She trembled.
She felt something cold against her cheek. She jolted away from it, then felt an arm pull her back towards the man.
The knife was on her cheek again. He pressed the side of the blade into her skin.
“Shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you.”
He stood up, withdrawing the knife. She struggled to pull away from him. He placed his foot against her back and shoved her back into the cupboard, then closed the door.
Chapter Eighty-Six
Mo listened to PC Solsby as he spoke to DS Griffin on the phone. He kept glancing at Mo, nodding excitedly.
Zoe was off duty. She was grieving. She needed to find Nicholas.
But they’d just got their best lead to Trevor Hamm.
He grabbed his phone and dialled her number.
Voicemail. Damn.
“Boss, it’s Mo. We’ve got video that links Hamm to Jukes’s murder. Call me.”
He ran his hand across the stubble on his chin as Solsby hung up. “Is DS Griffin at the house?”
“Not any more. She’s gonna head to the gym. With DI Finch.”
“Zoe’s there?”
“She was already at the house. My boss isn’t sure why.”
Mo wasn’t sure why, either. As far as he’d known, Zoe was dealing with personal matters this evening. If she was with Sheila, why wasn’t she picking up?
“I need to speak to DCI Dawson,” he said.
“Yeah.” Solsby licked his lips, his breathing shallow. “What d’you want us to do, Sarge?”
“Zoe and Sheila are already covering the gym. They’ll need more evidence. We carry on with what we’re doing.”
“My DS told me they’d seen the Jag at the house, Sarge.”
“Hamm’s Jag?”
“The one registered to that company. Got to be his.”
“OK.” Mo turned to Rhodri. “First off, I want concrete proof that firm is his. Get on the Companies House website, trawl anything you can find.”
“On it.”
“Connie, carry on scanning the video. The twenty-four hours after we see them dumping Jukes. And find cameras from the vicinity. I want a timeline of them arriving at and leaving the reservoir.”
Deadly Fallout (Detective Zoe Finch Book 6) Page 27
