From the Shadows (Detective Sergeant Catherine Bishop Series Book 3)

by Lisa Hartley

  ‘She didn’t answer your questions because she hadn’t done anything.’

  Catherine was half out of her chair. Rafferty shot her a look, and taking a shuddering breath, Catherine made the effort to calm herself.

  ‘Did John McKinley know about the rape?’ Rafferty was perfectly calm.

  ‘He suspected. He wouldn’t speak to me, didn’t want to know me.’

  ‘And the other two officers – Clement and Southern?’ Deliberately, Catherine didn’t give their current rank. She wanted Kemp to tell the truth, and if it meant Clement and Southern were dropped in the shit, so be it. She was sick of this case, of the lies and deceit.

  ‘Nothing was said, not at the time,’ Kemp said. ‘I left the force in the end. I wasn’t dismissed, but like I said, I was aware I should jump or be pushed.’

  ‘But you can’t tell us who made the threat?’

  ‘I told you, there were whispers, rumours, gossip. Nothing more. Enough to make my position impossible, not enough for me to make a complaint. How could I?’

  ‘Why did John leave?’

  ‘He guessed what I’d done, and the fact I was getting away with it made him sick.’

  ‘Why weren’t you charged?’

  Kemp stared into Catherine’s eyes, a curious smile on his lips. ‘You sure you want me to answer?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.’

  ‘All right. There were men in positions of power who believed their own careers, their reputations, would be damaged if the truth came out. When she tried to report the crime, they panicked, got some new lad to tell her to get lost. They got rid of me and hoped nothing more came of it.’

  ‘And you went? Didn’t put up a fight?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m guilty.’

  Catherine imagined Dolan and Knight watching the interview unfold. Where would they go from here? How would they proceed? It was a mess - a huge, sickening mess.

  ‘What about more recently?’ Rafferty asked. ‘What happened between you and John?’

  Kemp rubbed his forehead. ‘Cards on the table time. John saw me at the shelter, at Phoenix House. I’m there occasionally – meetings, collecting Maggie if her car’s in the garage.’

  ‘He recognised you?’

  ‘It wouldn’t have been hard to put two and two together. He saw Maggie if he stayed at the shelter, but he didn’t often. He’d only met her a few times, years before. But when he saw me, even though it’d been a while, he recognised me.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I was doing a gardening job in the city centre. John turned up, drunk. He didn’t make much sense at first. He told me he knew what I’d done.’ Kemp shook his head. ‘I didn’t admit to anything, but I agreed to give him some money.’

  ‘He blackmailed you.’

  ‘Not exactly. It was more a favour, helping out an old mate.’

  Catherine sniffed. ‘Call it what you like.’

  ‘He was going to tell Maggie. I … I said I’d meet him, give him the cash. When I got there, he was drunk, off his face. I had the heroin, and I shoved it in his arm. He’d used in the past, I was certain it’d be judged accidental death.’ He gave a tired smile. ‘Shows what I know. His life was fucked anyway, he’d soon have been dead, but I couldn’t take the risk.’

  ‘You put him out of his misery? It was a mercy killing?’ Catherine didn’t attempt to hide her contempt.

  Kemp squirmed.

  ‘No. I killed him because I was terrified he’d ruin my life. All right?’

  ‘Like you ruined Bethany Oliver’s?’ Catherine couldn’t resist.

  Kemp bowed his head.

  ‘Believe me, I know what I’ve done. And now everyone will know.’ He lifted his face, tears on his cheeks. ‘Should have confessed, told Maggie, called John’s bluff. Too late now.’

  ‘Where did you get the heroin?’ Rafferty was calm, her face impassive.

  Kemp shook his head. ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘You know it does.’

  ‘Want to arrest the dealer too? I’m not telling you.’

  Rafferty folded her arms. ‘We’ll find out.’

  Kemp gave a bitter laugh. ‘Yeah, no doubt.’

  ‘What time did you meet McKinley?’ Catherine asked.

  ‘Eleven. In a shitty alley where he’d slept a few nights.’ He confirmed the name of the street. ‘Are you searching my house?’

  ‘As we speak.’

  He rubbed his eyes. ‘Maggie.’

  ‘She’ll be okay.’

  ‘She wants to help. Every lame duck, every waif and stray, everyone other people have given up on. She’s a saint. Pity she married me,’ Kemp sniffed.

  Catherine was unmoved. ‘We’ll talk again soon, Mr Kemp.’

  When they arrived back in the incident room, Dolan was standing with Jonathan Knight.

  ‘Well done in there, you two,’ she said as Catherine and Rafferty approached. Catherine managed a smile. She still hadn’t forgotten the way the DCI had humiliated her, but she was willing to let it go. All she wanted now was to go home, have a soak in the bath and spend the night in her own bed.

  ‘What are you going to do about what Kemp told us? The ACC and Chief Constable?’ Rafferty asked. Dolan scowled.

  ‘It’s all there, on tape. I’m going have to speak to Professional Standards. What choice do I have?’

  Catherine froze, knowing Dolan was right, but also aware of her own vulnerability. On a previous case, Knight had placed her in a difficult position, and if Professional Standards were going to be sniffing around … She had done nothing wrong, but it could still mean the end of her career. She looked at Knight, who smiled. No hint of worry, no trace of guilt. Not for the first time, Catherine wanted to confess. To tell the truth about what had happened, and fuck the consequences.

  She wouldn’t, out of loyalty to Knight, misguided though it might be. She had trusted him since their first meeting, though she’d never been able to explain why.

  Rafferty nudged her. ‘Your phone’s ringing.’

  Catherine pulled it out of her bag and checked the display.

  The caller was Ghislaine Oliver.

  49

  ‘Ma’am, did we locate Ghislaine?’ Catherine raised her voice to be heard above the chatter of the incident room. Dolan shook her head.

  ‘We don’t need to now. We haven’t found Jake Pringle either, the slippery little bastard.’

  Dolan might not agree, but Catherine certainly needed to speak to Ghislaine again. Confess who she truly was, perhaps suggest Ghislaine talk to her mum? They didn’t know why Bethany and Ghislaine’s relationship had fractured, but surely there was hope for it? Catherine wanted to believe it, though it was none of her business. Her mobile was still ringing.

  ‘Hello, Ghislaine?’

  ‘Catherine? I need your help.’

  Catherine’s heart leapt. She turned to Rafferty, grabbing the other woman’s arm, alarmed by Ghislaine’s tone.

  ‘What’s the problem, Ghislaine?’

  Dolan heard the change in Catherine’s voice, Knight too. Catherine pressed the button for speakerphone, and they moved closer, circling Catherine as she gripped the handset.

  ‘Ghislaine? Talk to me, please.’

  ‘You know where Jasmine was killed?’ Catherine heard Ghislaine swallow, her voice tight as though terrified. ‘There. He says you should come alone.’

  ‘He? Who do you mean?’

  But Ghislaine had gone, the call ended abruptly.

  ‘Fuck.’ Dolan had gone pale. ‘I’m sure we can all guess who she’s talking about.’

  They could. Jake Pringle.

  50

  Catherine hunched in the back of the patrol car, Knight beside her, Rafferty squashed next to him. In the front, Dolan was berating Zaman as he tried to wind his way through the traffic.

  ‘Come on, Adil. Get out of the fucking way!’ she bellowed, giving a delivery driver the finger. Her phone bleeped. ‘The helicopter’s been mobilised, hope
fully they’ll be able to fly over the car park and see what’s happening. Listen, Catherine, there’s no way you’re going up there, do you understand? Pringle killed Jasmine, he’s got Ghislaine, and he’ll chuck you off the car park too if he gets a chance.’

  ‘Ghislaine asked for me,’ Catherine said, her voice shaking.

  ‘I don’t bloody care if she asked for you, the Queen and Mother Teresa, you’re not going. A negotiator is on his way.’

  ‘From where?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘It does if we want Ghislaine safe and Pringle arrested this side of Christmas.’

  Dolan’s face was purple. ‘You’re staying in the car.’

  Catherine said nothing, staring out of the window. Zaman thumped the steering wheel as traffic hemmed them on all sides. They weren’t using the siren or lights, not wanting to alert Pringle. This seemed pointless to Catherine if the helicopter had been mobilised, but what did she know?

  If this had been a normal car, she could have opened the door since they were at a standstill, and made her way to the car park on foot. No chance in a patrol car – the back doors wouldn’t open from the inside. Maybe Dolan had thought of that. Knight nudged her.

  ‘Okay?’

  ‘Okay?’ Catherine swallowed. ‘No.’

  ‘Caitlin’s called the baby Olivia.’

  She stared at him, speechless at his timing. ‘Great, Jonathan.’

  ‘Sod this, let’s get moving,’ Dolan said. The siren screeched into action, the lights whirled. Finally, cars began to move.

  ‘Right, shift your arse, Adil.’ Dolan peered through the windscreen, arms folded.

  ‘Doing my best.’ Zaman’s jaw was clenched in concentration.

  Soon, they stopped beside the car park, the siren silenced again, the lights off. Dolan turned to the three officers in the back.

  ‘Now, we wait. I’ve requested an armed response team as well as the helicopter, but it’s going to take time to get them here and into position.’ Catherine protested, but Dolan silenced her with a look. ‘Pringle has a hostage, he could be armed. This is a busy city centre. I’m not taking any risks, not with your safety, Catherine, or anyone else’s. Understand?’

  ‘But I want to—’

  ‘Not your decision.’

  Closing her eyes, knowing further protest was futile, Catherine had no choice. She took her phone out of her pocket, willing it to ring again. Dolan squinted at the huge structure in front of them.

  ‘Anyone spotted him?’

  No one had. They were too close to see the top floor in any case. In her hand, at last, Catherine’s phone was ringing again. She fumbled, nearly dropping it into the footwell.

  ‘It’s Ghislaine again.’

  ‘Answer it,’ Dolan snapped. ‘And put it on speakerphone.’

  ‘Ghislaine, where are you?’ Catherine said. There was laughter – male laughter.

  ‘She’s here with me, safe and sound. Come on, Catherine. Join the party.’

  ‘Send Ghislaine out first.’

  ‘No chance. You’ve got five minutes.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  He laughed again, the sound echoing around the car, taunting them.

  ‘Ghislaine will be coming down to see you. And I don’t mean using the stairs or the lift.’

  He ended the call.

  There was silence for a second before everyone spoke at once. Dolan clapped her hands.

  ‘Quiet. Let’s …’

  ‘You heard him, he’s going to throw Ghislaine over. Let me out of this fucking car.’ Catherine pounded on the door, her knees thumping the back of Dolan’s seat, hard.

  ‘All right, DS Bishop,’ Dolan barked. ‘Boot my seat again, and I’ll kick your arse. Now listen. It seems we have no choice. He’s obviously seen us arrive.’ She tried to look at the sky. ‘No sign of the fucking helicopter. Catherine, I hate to do this …’

  Knight said, ‘You’re not seriously going to send her up there?’

  ‘What choice do I have?’

  ‘He’s a fucking maniac, he’ll …’

  ‘I’m going, Jonathan. We can’t let him hurt Ghislaine.’

  Knight snatched at Catherine’s arm. ‘She could already be dead. Listen to yourself, Catherine. You don’t need to do this.’

  She shook him off. ‘I do. It’s my fault she’s there.’

  ‘What? You’re being ridiculous. Why put yourself in danger?’

  Dolan opened her door.

  ‘DI Knight, we have no choice. Go on, Catherine. Ring my phone, keep the call connected and hopefully we’ll hear what’s happening. We’ll follow.’

  She opened the door for Catherine and she tumbled out, sprinting towards the car park’s entrance. There were stairs and a lift – she’d be more vulnerable if she took the lift, because Pringle could attack her as soon as the doors opened. But if she took the stairs, even though she considered herself fit, she’d be out of breath by the time she arrived at the top. It would have to be the lift.

  She thumped the button, relieved when the doors immediately slid open. Hammering the button for the top floor, she leant against the wall. Why had Pringle asked for her? Because she was Ghislaine’s friend, and he guessed she would come if Ghislaine was in danger? He must know Catherine was police, though how, she’d no idea.

  The lift clattered and hummed, the number for each floor flashing as they passed it. With a thud, it halted and the doors opened.

  Catherine looked around. Several cars, plenty of empty parking spaces, but no Ghislaine. No Jake Pringle either. She stepped out of the lift, her blood thumping in her ears. Silence. There was no movement, nothing to indicate they were even here. Had Pringle been bluffing? A few seconds passed before realisation dawned.

  Her phone. He was waiting for her to break the connection with Dolan. He must have tried to ring her again, and got the engaged tone. Slowly, she removed the handset from her pocket and ended the call to Dolan, holding it out so Pringle could see what she was doing, wherever he was. Immediately, Ghislaine’s name lit the screen.

  ‘Better,’ Pringle said. ‘Don’t want any interruptions, do we? Now walk forward.’

  Catherine did as she was told, her eyes scanning the area. Still she couldn’t see them. She didn’t know exactly where Jasmine’s body had been found. If Pringle was expecting her to be able to come to them, he was in for a disappointment. She hoped he wouldn’t take it out on Ghislaine.

  Warily, conscious of every movement, she kept walking, the phone pressed to her ear. She could hear him breathing heavily, as if excited. No doubt he was. Having her and Ghislaine here at his mercy was bound to be a massive turn on.

  ‘Where the hell are you?’ Catherine demanded, tension tightening around her chest. He laughed again, and this time she heard him properly. He was close.

  ‘Leave the phone on the ground. Stand slowly, keeping your hands where I can see them.’

  Catherine rolled her eyes. She did as he said, wondering if he’d said the same to Thomas and Anna the night he stabbed her. They stepped out from behind a car, Pringle dragging Ghislaine, hugging her to his chest, a knife under her throat. Ghislaine’s mouth was taped shut now, but her eyes, wide and desperate, found Catherine’s.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ Pringle said, as if they’d bumped into each other in the street. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

  ‘What do you want, Pringle?’

  He simpered. ‘How rude. Maybe you should be polite, since your little friend here’s at my mercy.’

  Catherine had a second to decide how she was going to play this. ‘My friend?’ There was a sneer in her voice. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Pringle’s smirk faded a little, but he rallied. ‘I know you’re mates, I’ve seen you together.’

  Catherine laughed, harsh and mocking. ‘I was undercover. I wanted to get close to Ghislaine to find out what she knew. I pretended to be her friend, yeah. Doesn’t mean I give a shit what happens to her now.’

 
As she spoke, she maintained eye contact with Ghislaine, hoping she would realise Catherine was lying. If she hadn’t cared, she wouldn’t be within a mile of this place. She held her breath as Pringle hesitated, hoping she hadn’t signed Ghislaine’s death warrant.

  ‘You’re bluffing.’ He gave another laugh. ‘Why would you come, if you didn’t care?’

  ‘To talk to you, Jake. You’ve had us all confused. We’d never have found you if you hadn’t asked me to come here.’ The words filled her mouth with bile, but they were necessary. She was banking on Pringle’s ego being larger than his brain.

  ‘Led you all on a dance, haven’t I?’ Pringle adjusted his arm, the blade scratching at Ghislaine’s throat. She whimpered behind the gag, her eyes pleading. Catherine knew she had to keep him talking, give Dolan’s back-up a chance to arrive - the helicopter, a marching band. Anyone who could help, who could rescue Catherine from a situation she had no idea how to manage.

  ‘You have, Jake. You’ve been clever.’ The word stuck in her throat.

  ‘How’s the policewoman? The one who got hurt?’

  Got hurt? She didn’t want to tell him about Anna. ‘She’s okay.’

  ‘Still alive? I didn’t mean to do it, you know. The knife … I waved it around, had to make them believe I was serious. All at once, she was bleeding all over me. Silly bitch.’

  He was lying. She could see he’d known exactly what he’d been doing. Catherine clenched her fists, hating him. Pringle saw the movement and smiled.

  ‘What about Jasmine?’ Catherine demanded. ‘Her death wasn’t an accident.’

  ‘Poor Jasmine.’ He cackled. ‘You must think I’m stupid, after all.’

  ‘Why bring me here?’

  ‘One hostage is good, two’s better, especially if one’s a copper.’

  ‘How did you know who I was?’

  ‘I guessed. I’ve been watching, following you. You went to the Headquarters, more than once. I knew you couldn’t be a suspect.’

  ‘I still don’t understand why I’m here.’

  ‘You’re going to drive. Here.’ Loosening his grip on Ghislaine for a second, he fumbled in his pocket, retrieved a bunch of keys and flung them at Catherine. ‘Black Ford Focus, over there. Start her up.’

  Catherine didn’t move. ‘I can’t, Jake.’