Cross and Burn

by Val McDermid

  ‘We think someone took Nadia,’ Paula said. ‘He kept her prisoner. And then he killed her.’

  ‘In Poland?’

  ‘We think she never left Bradfield,’ Paula said.

  ‘But she texted me. She said she had to go home at short notice because her mum had cancer and she thought she was going to die. I said to Skype me when she got there but she said she couldn’t because her mum didn’t have internet access. So we texted.’ She pulled her phone out. ‘Look, I’ll show you.’

  ‘That’s really helpful, Ashley. And we’ll need a copy of those text exchanges between you. Did anything strike you as odd about anything she said in her texts? Or the way she said it?’

  Ashley frowned. ‘Everything was just normal. That’s why none of this makes any sense. Are you sure you’ve got the right person?’

  Paula’s heart went out to her. ‘I know this is a terrible thing for you to hear, but we’re sure. And we need all the help we can get. The sooner we get it, the more chance there is that we’ll catch whoever did this to your friend. So we’d like to ask you some questions. Do you mind?’ It was heartless, to demand such a thing when the woman was still in shock. But necessary.

  Ashley’s eyes brimmed with tears and she started to shake. Paula put an arm round her shoulders and let her sob. Her eyes met Fielding’s. Any suggestion of sympathy had disappeared. Her boss made a rolling gesture with her hand; hurry it up. Fuck that. Paula let Ashley cry, finding a packet of tissues in her pocket to wipe her eyes and blow her nose when the first storm had passed. ‘I’m s-s-sorry,’ Ashley hiccuped, smudged mascara giving her racoon eyes.

  ‘Don’t be. She was your friend. It’s right to feel upset.’ Paula sat back but kept a hand on Ashley’s arm. ‘So, tell me when you last saw Nadia.’

  Ashley gulped and swallowed, then managed to speak. ‘It was a Saturday.’ She counted back, her lips moving silently. ‘Three weeks ago. We went down Manchester to go shopping at the Trafford Centre. They’ve got, like, a load of cool shops there. We met up with Anya – that’s our other mate, Anya Burba. She’s Polish, like Nad. Anyhow, we met up at Burger King at noon and had a burger then we went round the shops.’ She stopped, smitten by memory, her bottom lip quivering.

  ‘Did you buy anything?’ Paula sounded chatty, interested in the shopping rather than the sinister.

  ‘I got some purple jeggings and a sequinned top to match. Nad got two blouses for work. A yellow one and a blue one. They had, like, a white pinstripe. They were really pretty, she looked lush in them. Anya, she got some stuff out of Body Shop. Bath stuff. She’d live in the bath, give her half a chance. Then we went to the food court and had chips and Cokes. Then Anya gave me a lift home. ’Cause Nad decided she wanted to see this movie that me and Anya didn’t fancy.’

  There was always a moment in an interview when the witness said something whose significance wasn’t obvious to them. The trick was not to show that it mattered. Paula had to struggle to keep her hand from gripping Ashley’s hand tightly, as if she could squeeze information from her. ‘What film was that?’

  Ashley shrugged. ‘Dunno, really. It was something French. Nad, she speaks French as well as English. It had subtitles, like, but I’d rather watch the telly or go down the pub. If I wanted to read all night, I’d buy, like, a magazine.’

  ‘So Nadia was planning to go to the cinema alone?’

  ‘Yeah. She did that sometimes. She was into films, way more than me and Anya.’

  It made sense. Paula remembered a couple of French films in the stack of DVDs in Nadia’s flat. ‘And she was happy to go by herself?’

  ‘Yeah, why not?’

  ‘And you’re sure she hadn’t made plans to meet anyone there?’

  Ashley shook her head. ‘It was a spur of the moment thing. We went and had a look at what was on, to see if there was something we all fancied. And when Nad spotted that French film she was made up.’ Her face crumpled. ‘That might have been the last thing she ever did before he got her, right?’ Tears dribbled down her cheeks again.

  ‘We don’t know, Ashley. Now, here’s how you can help us even more. I want you to cast your mind back to that Saturday. Were you aware of anyone following you? Was there anybody you kept catching sight of?’

  Ashley frowned, concentrating on recall. ‘Nothing springs to mind. We were just out having a laugh and a shop, we weren’t paying attention to anybody else.’

  ‘And you didn’t get into a ruck with anybody? Nobody hit on you?’

  She shook her head. ‘Nothing like that. Like I said, we weren’t interested in anybody else.’

  ‘You didn’t see any guys you fancied, then?’

  Ashley gave her a shrewd look. ‘Not that we did anything about. We were looking, like. When we were sitting down eating, we were checking out the talent. But not in any serious way. Just, like, “he’s hench”, or, like, “he’s got a nice bum”. We never spoke to any of them and they never spoke to us. It was totally, like, normal.’

  ‘What about boyfriends? Was Nadia seeing anybody?’

  Ashley looked down at the table. ‘Not any more.’

  Paula caught Fielding’s eye. They were both like pointers who had caught a whiff of prey. ‘She’d been seeing someone?’

  ‘Yeah, but it’s been over and done for months.’ She looked up and cottoned on to Paula’s interest. ‘It’s not what you’re thinking. She was going out with this Polish bloke, Pawel. She started seeing him soon after she moved over here. When it was all done and dusted, she said she thought she’d fallen for him because she was feeling homesick and he made her feel safe. She was going out with him when I first met her. He was a nice bloke, he was working as a hotel receptionist. Anyway, one night they were out in Leeds and they ran into this other Polish woman who totally freaked out. She called Nad a slapper. Well, she said it in Polish, but that was the gist of it. She said Pawel had a wife and two kids in Gdansk and Nad was a dirty whore. All at top volume in the middle of a bar. Well, Pawel tried to make out it was a case of mistaken identity, but the woman wasn’t having it. She whipped out her phone and took a photo of the two of them and said if he didn’t get his sleazy arse home to Gdansk, she would send it to his wife so she’d know what a bastard she’d married. And that was that, pretty much.’

  ‘She dumped him?’

  Ashley shrugged. ‘One of those things where you’re not sure who got the shaft in first. She dumped him or he dumped her on his way to the airport. He went back to Poland and she said she was taking a break from men.’

  ‘And did she? Take a break?’

  Ashley looked mildly shifty. ‘Pretty much. She had a one-night stand with one of the doctors at Bradfield Moor after a Christmas party, but they were both off their chops. No hard feelings the next morning, but neither of them was interested in taking it further.’

  ‘There’s a set of keys on Nadia’s keyring that don’t fit her flat. Do you know whose keys they are, Ashley?’

  She nodded, her face bleak. ‘They’re Anya’s house keys. She’s, like, totally dozy, always locking herself out. So she gave a set to Nad because Nad’s dead organised and that way Anya wouldn’t be screwed the next time she left her keys sitting on the breakfast bar.’

  It made sense. Paula pulled the photo of the three women towards her. ‘Looks like you three like to party. Did you ever get anybody bothering you? Taking an unhealthy interest in Nad?’

  Ashley chewed the skin at the edge of her pinkie nail. ‘We like a night out,’ she said eventually. ‘We have a few drinks, but we’re not like some of those mad bitches that get so off their faces they don’t know their own names by the end of the night. We’re not silly little girls, Detective. We have a laugh but we don’t take stupid risks. That’s why I can’t believe Nad’s gone.’

  ‘What about drugs? Did Nad ever do drugs?’

  Ashley sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Everybody over thirty thinks our generation’s permanently off our tits. Look, I did E when I was a teenager. A few times,
when I was out clubbing. I did coke half a dozen times when I was twenty. But I don’t do that shit now. I’ve got a good job, my own flat, my own car. I’m not going to flush all that down the toilet. And Nad was the same. She came over here to make enough money to go back to Poland and have a good life. She wasn’t going to risk all that for one daft night. No way.’ She gave a twisted little smile. ‘We’re the good girls, Detective.’ Then the bravado crumbled and tears spilled again. ‘Shit like this, it’s not supposed to happen to girls like us.’

  Except that this time it had.

  26

  Fielding was already on the phone as the door of the health centre swung shut behind them. She talked as she walked, moving surprisingly fast for such a small woman. Paula almost had to break into a trot to keep up.

  ‘Get a car round here now,’ Fielding said briskly, heading for the car. ‘Yes, Harriestown Road Health Centre. Pick up Ashley Marr and take her to the Trafford Centre. She can identify where Nadia parked her car on arrival that Saturday… Yes, that’s right, three weeks ago. Nadia said she was going to watch some French film at the multiscreen that same evening. I need another team down there, finding out when the film ended and checking out the CCTV for routes from the multiscreen to where the car was parked… I appreciate that… Pull them off the diary contacts, this is the strongest lead right now.’

  Fielding ended the call as she got into the passenger seat. ‘What’s Ashley not telling us?’

  Paula eased into a space in the steady flow of traffic. ‘You think she’s holding on to something?’

  Fielding popped a piece of nicotine gum into her mouth. ‘There’s always more. They don’t always know it, but there’s always more.’ She rubbed one eye with a knuckle and stifled a yawn, skin stretching taut over her fine bones. Paula realised she wasn’t the only one who’d been up late the night before. ‘Another thing,’ Fielding added. ‘Why is he going to all this trouble to cover up the fact that he’s taken her? All the texts and the emails?’

  ‘I wondered that too. The only thing I could think of was that most private security cameras recycle their recordings, whether it’s tape or digital. They only keep them for a certain length of time. Maybe he was worried about the CCTV at the Trafford Centre and reckoned a month of blue water between the abduction and the alert would keep him in the clear.’

  Fielding brightened up for a moment, her brown eyes alert and shining. Then she scowled. ‘So why kill her after three weeks if you’ve bought yourself some extra time?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Paula admitted. ‘Maybe he didn’t mean to kill her when he did. Maybe she did something to make him lose his temper. And then once she was dead, he just wanted rid.’

  Fielding gave a little snort of cynical laughter. ‘Aye, right enough. You wouldn’t want a corpse lying around making the place look untidy.’

  ‘They are a nuisance,’ Paula said. ‘It’s always easier to deal with them sooner rather than later, before they start decomposing and leaking all over your car boot.’

  ‘Yeuch. But you’re right, McIntyre.’

  ‘Thank you. Todmorden, then? Anya Burba?’

  ‘Sure.’ There was a moment’s silence, then Fielding said, ‘I had respect for Carol Jordan. I imagine you learned a lot, working for her.’

  It was a statement, not a question. In Paula’s head, she’d worked with Carol Jordan, not for her. Not that there had been any doubt who was in charge. It was more that Carol had always acknowledged the different skills in her squad and had made sure they all understood that MIT was greater than the sum of its parts only when they played as a team. A team of mavericks, admittedly, but a group of people who saw the personal advantage of being part of a successful unit. Paula didn’t sense that same collegial spirit in Fielding. She was very clearly the boss and apparently everything went through her. Paula knew which style she preferred. But her preference was irrelevant. She had to work with what she had. Not to mention that Fielding’s methods also seemed to get results. ‘We all came out of MIT better cops than when we went in,’ she said, trying not to make it sound like a challenge.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. You’re my bagman from choice, not necessity. But on this firm, we don’t go off on our own, McIntyre. We do things through the proper channels. We clear on that?’

  Paula kept her eyes on the traffic and her face expressionless. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘Is that what you called Jordan? “Ma’am”?’ It wasn’t quite a straight question.

  Paula wasn’t comfortable with where this was going, but she wasn’t willing to start lying over something so apparently trivial. ‘No. I called her “chief”. She wasn’t very keen on “ma’am”.’

  ‘No more am I. Ma’am’s what you call the queen. It’s fine in formal situations, fine from the grunts in uniform to remind them who’s in charge. But it makes me feel a bit of a twat coming from my own officers. My lads call me “boss”, but “chief” would be fine.’

  So, it was a power play. Call me ‘chief’ or I’ll assume you rate me lower than Carol Jordan. Paula had never had a conversation like this with a senior officer before. Was that because men just assumed they’d be treated appropriately according to their rank but women had to fight for that right? Whatever. She’d try to avoid calling Fielding anything. If she had no choice, she’d go with boss. If it was good enough for the lads, it was good enough for her. She was saved from answering by the beeping of Fielding’s phone.

  ‘Text from the pathologist,’ she said, bringing it up on her screen.

  ‘What’s Grisha got to say?’

  ‘He’s finished the post-mortem. I need to call him.’ She plugged her phone into the car jack so she could make the call on speaker and keyed in the number.

  ‘Shatalov speaking,’ came from the tinny speakers.

  ‘DCI Fielding. I got your message. What have you got for me?’

  ‘I completed the post-mortem on Nadzieja Wilkowa. Cause of death was internal bleeding from multiple blunt trauma injuries.’

  ‘Not the head injury?’

  ‘The blow to the head was probably sustained first, given the bleeding around the site, but it’s doubtful whether that would have been enough to kill her on its own. I’d say she was beaten with a tapering cylindrical object such as a baseball bat. And she was kicked repeatedly. So much so that the skin was torn and bleeding. That’s not all. There was a considerable amount of old bruising at various sites all over her body, consistent with regular assaults over a period of up to two weeks.’

  ‘Not longer than that?’

  ‘Bruises generally fade completely after two weeks. So any predating that will have disappeared.’

  There wasn’t much to say to that, Paula thought. But Fielding found something. ‘On the scale of beatings you’ve seen, where would this figure? Top five? Top ten?’

  A moment’s silence then, his voice flat, Grisha said, ‘I have only ever seen one body more severely beaten than this. And that was the victim of a biker-gang punishment beating.’

  ‘Thank you. What about sexual assault? I mean, before the superglue, obviously.’

  ‘I treated the superglue with solvent so I could examine the genital area. I would say she had recently had violent sexual intercourse, vaginally and anally. There are internal tears that would suggest a pretty brutal rape scenario. Again, there’s old bruising in the genital area, and some internal tearing that is partially healed.’ He let out a heavy sigh. In all the years she’d known him Paula had never known Grisha to be blasé. Being confronted with the terrible things humans did to each other still caused him distress. ‘No semen. Either he used condoms or a foreign object.’

  ‘A foreign object?’ Fielding’s question was clinical.

  ‘A dildo. Maybe even the baseball bat he used on her head. It’s impossible to say.’

  ‘Then theoretically it could be a woman?’

  Grisha gave a hollow laugh. ‘Theoretically it could be a woman, yes. She’d have to be pretty strong, to mo
ve your victim around. But yes, it could be a woman.’ Silence, while they all thought about that one. ‘One other thing,’ Grisha said. ‘It was hard to pick up at first because of the bruising and the damage to the skin. But I found three instances of two puncture wounds close together. One on her right shoulder, one on her left thigh and one on her stomach, by the navel. The one on her shoulder was almost totally healed. All that’s left are the purple-pink marks of scar tissue.’

  ‘Knife wounds?’

  ‘No. Much smaller and shallower. There are some tears to the skin in four of the cases. I can’t be sure but I think they might be damage inflicted by taser probes.’

  ‘You think he’s tasered her?’ Fielding sounded intrigued.

  ‘I can’t be certain, I don’t have much experience in this area. I’ll need to do some research. But yes, that would be my cautious opinion at this point.’

  ‘That would explain how he acquired her without any report of a struggle somewhere public…’ Fielding’s voice tailed off as she thought through what she’d just heard.

  Paula took her chance. ‘Hi, Grisha. It’s Paula here.’

  ‘Hi, Sergeant Paula. How’re you enjoying your promotion?’

  ‘I can’t remember when I last had this much fun without laughing. Grisha, what have we got on time of death?’ Fielding gave her a dirty look, as if she’d been caught speaking out of turn.

  ‘I’d say between nine in the evening and four in the morning. Can’t do better than that, sorry. Stomach contents are no help because there are none. The small intestine’s also empty, so it looks like it was at least twelve hours between her last meal and the time of death.’

  ‘No question that he kept her before he killed her, then?’