by Emmy Ellis
“Including us?”
Fuck. Helena turned around. Yarworth stood in the doorway with a bloke beside him. How could she say no without sounding a cow?
“If you like,” she said grudgingly.
Someone let out a breath behind her. Probably Phil at the thought of having to spend time with the chief again.
“Team,” Yarworth said, as if he was a part of it, “this is Evan Ufford. He’ll be joining us next month some time, depending on when the current case he’s working on is over. Kid gone missing, isn’t it, Evan.”
“It is.” Evan smiled at everyone. “Hello.”
The team returned his greeting, and Helena stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
“Looking forward to working with you,” she managed. Think of how you’d feel in his shoes. “Are you a beer or spirit man?”
“Bit of both,” Evan said, smiling.
“Then we’ll see you at the local about five,” she said. “Sorry to cut this short, but we’ve got someone to interview.”
“Oh?” Yarworth said, raising his eyebrows.
“We apprehended the killer earlier,” she said and raised hers, too.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yarworth asked.
She could tell the truth in front of Evan or lie. The truth won. “Because you told me never to bother you with that sort of thing, sir, until it was all tied up with a pretty bow. I think those were your words anyway.”
Yarworth blushed and cleared his throat.
Evan hid a smile behind his hand and looked at Helena, eyes twinkling.
They’d get along fine.
“See you both later then?” she said, walking towards the exit.
“I’ll… I’ll give it a miss actually,” Yarworth said.
I bet you bloody will.
“That’s a shame. Phil, let Evan know where we’ll be, will you?”
“Yes, guv.”
Helena strode out and waited for Andy downstairs.
He grinned at her and shook his head. “You don’t half know how to push your luck.”
“Well, he shouldn’t be such a dickhead, should he. Honestly, what’s the point of pretending to be a DCI to show off for the new bloke when Evan’s going to find out Yarworth is an office hermit who does jack shit? Christ.”
“True.”
Helena moved to the front desk. “Hi, missus. Are they ready for us?”
Louise nodded. “Yes, and what a creepy-looking fucker he is. Room two.”
“Thanks.”
Helena went in first. Landon sat on the left-hand side of the table, his solicitor next to him. A uniform stood in the corner. Helena sat in front of Landon, and the sound of the door closing gave her the shudders. She didn’t like the expression on Landon’s face. Andy took the seat beside her, and she touched his foot with hers and gave him a look—the look they shared when she was uneasy and needed to know he had her back. He nodded, but only just enough for her to catch it, then she faced forward.
She glanced up at the camera, and a red light came on. They were good to go.
She stated the date, time, the charges, her name, Andy’s, the officer’s, and Landon’s, then, “And the solicitor present is…?”
“Tim Huxley.” Youngish, brown hair, a pair of black specs, and stubble.
“Thank you.”
“Ian, as you’re already aware, you’ve been charged with four counts of murder. Felicity Greaves, Mark Simons, Den Simons, and Katy Watkins. Your roll of plastic, knife, wig, and mask have been taken by forensics and will undoubtedly throw up the DNA of the victims as well as yourself. It’s pointless denying anything, so please, save us the hassle if you’re thinking of going down the ‘no comment’ route.”
He stared directly at her, his strange, unsettling eyes giving her the creeps.
“Now,” she said, forcing herself to appear in control, although she didn’t feel it. He bothered her in a way she couldn’t explain. “You mentioned in your home that we ‘forgot the others’. I took that to mean there are more people you’ve killed. Elaborate on that.”
“No one important,” he said in that eerie voice he’d slipped into earlier.
“Why are you speaking like that?” she asked.
“I’m pretending I have the mask on.”
What? “Please explain that to me. Why do you need to pretend you have it on?”
“It calms me. Makes me feel safe. Important.”
“Why do you need to feel important, Ian?”
“Because I never was.”
“I see. Sorry about that.” She wasn’t, but if she could feign empathy, she might get more out of him. “Who weren’t you important to?”
“Everyone.”
“Give me some names.”
“Mum, Dad, Eddie, Mark—and he was meant to be my friend and all. Den. He didn’t like me. Probably because I used to nick his fags and saw him snogging my mum. Stupid bastard.”
“Anyone else?”
“Them women you said about.”
“Felicity and Katy?”
“Yeah.”
While she’d gathered who Eddie was, she wanted him to clarify it. “Who is Eddie?”
Landon sat up straighter and rocked back and forth. “Bad things…bad things…”
“What do you mean by that?” she queried.
“He said bad things would happen, and they did.” Landon hugged himself and stared at her, those bloody eyes of his narrow and piggy.
“What bad things?”
“You get killed. That’s the bad thing. Eddie said not to tell.”
“Tell me about Eddie.”
“He was my mum’s bloke.”
“Where is Eddie now?”
“In the sea.” He grinned like he had at his house and let out a strange little titter.
It put the shits up Helena, and Andy shifted in his seat. So he was feeling it, too. Thank God it wasn’t just her imagination. Landon wasn’t right in the head.
“Did you put him there?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“What about your mother? Where is she?”
“Ashes.”
“How did she die?”
“Got run over by a train.”
“I’m terribly sorry about that.” For her, not you.
“I put her on the track.” He giggled again, a high-pitched flutter of sound.
Jesus… “Okay, what about your dad?”
“I didn’t kill him. He left us.”
“Was that upsetting for you?” She imagined him as a child, left with his mother, feeling abandoned.
“Yeah. She got pissed after. Was always pissed.” A mad glint sparkled in his eyes.
Fucking hell…
“Was she a good mother, though, Ian?”
“No.”
“And what about Eddie? Was he good?”
“No.” Back to that bland monotone.
“Has your mask fallen off?” She watched for his reaction.
He raised his hands and mimed putting it back on.
Dear God…
“What about your wig?” She swallowed.
He glanced about as if looking for it, then reached across the table in front of Andy and drew the invisible wig towards him. Ian put it on.
She had to wrap this up. Dr Varley had been wrong. This man wasn’t mentally fit to be questioned. If she was any judge, he wouldn’t be spending time in a regular prison.
“I just want to confirm, for the video, that you admit to killing the following people, okay?”
“Yeah.” He straightened the wig; he must have thought it was slipping.
She almost felt sorry for him. “Regina Landon, Eddie Goddard, Felicity Greaves, Mark Simons, Den Simons, Katy Watkins. Please state your answer verbally.”
“Yeah, they had the bad thing happen. Benny was meant to be next.”
Jesus Christ. Phil’s brother? Close call.
He stroked his face. Was he touching the rubber of the imaginary mask? Was his mind so brok
en he actually felt it? “But you got two the wrong way round. Eddie was first, then Regina.”
“Thank you, Ian.” She wasn’t sure what to bloody think here. “Interview suspended at—”
“Can I have my knife back?” he asked, slowly tilting his head and glaring at her, his eyes piercing, frightening.
“No,” she said.
Landon shot to his feet and looked down at the table, eyes wide as though he’d spotted something. Quicker than anyone could react, he swiped nothing into his hand and lunged across, forming a fist, and he brought it down as though holding a knife.
“One,” he said in that freaky voice.
The side of his fist didn’t make contact with the target of her stomach—Andy and the solicitor gripped Landon’s arm at the same time, and the officer in the corner ran over and cuffed Landon’s wrists behind him.
Landon blinked, staring at Helena’s belly. He frowned. “You’re not bleeding.”
“That’s enough, guys,” she said. “Mr Landon needs a mental evaluation. I’m no longer prepared to continue.” She signed off for the video and left the room, ushering a fearful-looking Tim Huxley out into the corridor.
“Fucking hell,” Huxley said, leaning against the wall and staring at the ceiling.
Helena closed the door. “It’s best we move into reception. The officer in there will be taking Landon back to holding in a second. I’m sure you don’t really want to see him again just yet. Come on. I’ll get you a cuppa.”
She led him to the front desk, and he pressed his hands to it and hung his head. Louise widened her eyes, and Helena shook her head to stop her saying anything, then went to the vending machine. Andy came through, waved, and went upstairs.
“Tea or coffee, Mr Huxley?” she called over her shoulder.
“Um, tea. Please.”
She pushed coins in and made the selection. Carrying the beige plastic cup over—Jesus, it was burning her fingers—she placed it on the desk. “Green, are you?” she asked.
“Clearly.”
She smiled. “I’ve dealt with worse. You’ll get used to it.”
“I suppose I’ll have to.”
Helena patted his shoulder then made her way to the incident room. Although what Landon had done had rattled her, as had his eyes, his smile, his weird voice, she couldn’t let that stop her elation. She’d thought there were two killers and she’d only found one in Landon. It had bugged her no end, but it didn’t matter.
No. She’d finally found the lady in the street.
OTHER BOOKS IN THIS SERIES:
THE MAN IN THE HOUSE: BOOK ONE
THE CHILD IN THE TREE: BOOK THREE
