‘No. I’ll send the report straight over though.’
Alex hung up the phone thoughtfully. Susan being pregnant provided more motive for someone to want her gone.
It was time for him to visit Brian personally and speak with him. He had planned to do his cursory visit tomorrow, but this afternoon would do fine.
Pallion, Sunderland – 23 September
He pulled apart the top shelves of his toolbox to get to the hammer in the space at the bottom. He remembered finding it years earlier, in the shed of one of his neighbours.
His teeth glinted as he smiled, remembering the look of horror on the neighbour’s face when he came upon the mangled body of his faithful pet in his yard in front of the shed.
He had hidden behind the small, wooden building, wanting to see what the old man would do.
It had only taken five blows with the hammer to kill the West Highland terrier, its white fur quickly becoming stained with blood. But he had hit it a few more times, enchanted by the crack the bones made and the pattern of the blood. He didn’t know what he expected when the man saw his dead dog, but he hadn’t expected to see him cry.
His neighbour had knelt in the yard, with the rain pouring down on his bald head, and sobbed, pulling the broken body of the dog close. In between the sobs he had cried the word ‘why?’ before he had shakily taken a spade from his shed and painstakingly dug a shallow grave.
He had watched from behind the tree as the old man dug for an hour and buried his beloved pet, and he remembered being surprised that he hadn’t felt something other than satisfaction.
The old man had passed away a few weeks later, pneumonia the rumour mill had said. And again, he had spent time in his garden and wondered why he hadn’t felt something.
Now though he understood.
He had read a multitude of psychology books, enough to understand he was what was categorised as psychopath. He was completely lacking in empathy, had no remorse for his actions and was emotionally detached from everything.
But he knew he felt something. Or maybe it was more the search for feeling something.
It was the reason he did what he did.
He was constantly searching to achieve that feeling. That same satisfaction he had felt when he looked at the sobbing old man and known that he was responsible for his pain. He felt enjoyment at the sorrow he could inflict, and a kind of peace in the knowing that when life ceased, it was because he chose to make it so. His favourite part of the kill was when the light of life and hope extinguished and the dim glow of acceptance appeared, the point they knew they would die. He’d seen it in the eyes of the small white dog and all the other animals he’d killed over the years. And now he’d seen it in Susan’s eyes. He knew that was what he needed to see again.
The feeling was not a sexual release, but it gave him the ultimate sense of satisfaction. He knew that he was good at what he did.
He handled the hammer, feeling the grooved wooden handle weigh his hands down. He hadn’t used it since the day with the dog. He was looking forward to listening to the old vagrant beg for his life as he made his bones crack in the same way the dogs had all those years before. He looked forward to making him pay for his life of ignorance, the life where he chose not to help the boy whose mother beat him, the meagre existence where fate had already intervened, rendering him an alcoholic bum with nothing better to do than drink his life away.
‘Yes, you saw me. You saw the bruises. You were friends with that useless arsehole of a father I had. You saw what she did. And now I see you.’
He’d been surprised the first time he saw Albert, barely recognising him through the unkempt beard and hair. The years had not been kind.
But it was definitely him.
And it was time he paid for his ignorance.
He took a deep breath and put the hammer back, closed the shelves, and fastened the clasp. He had the patience to wait until the time was right. The current news headlines would ease from first page down to the middle of the paper and then the city of Sunderland would be ready for his next great masterpiece.
Chapter Ten
Mackintosh Residence – 23 September
Alex found himself sitting in the Ford Focus outside the house owned by Susan and her husband Brian. The front garden was well kept, the grass cut short and only just starting to sprout after the downpour at the weekend. He shook his head; it had been four days since the murder now, but it was all still so fresh that it could have happened that morning.
A blue plastic tricycle lay on its side on the grass and he felt a sudden deep pang to see his family.
I’ll go see the Super when I get back, see if I can get a lieu day tagged on to my rest days. It’ll be good to go home.
Mary had been given an emergency caesarean and his niece had been born safely but was in the special care baby unit. Mary had lost a lot of blood during the birth and was just being moved from ICU to a side room today. His mum had sounded dog tired when she’d phoned him that morning. She needed him right now, and he wanted nothing more than to be there.
Since he’d left with Helen he had tried to get home regularly, but something always seemed to come up. He spoke with his mum every other day on the phone, was in constant contact with his siblings, but he knew that it was his choice to stay where he was. Being home reminded him of all the things he should have had with Helen but that he had thrown away on his job. He hadn’t realised at the time just how awful it must have been for her, the wife of a police officer, waiting at home for that dreaded phone call or visit every time he was at work. The fact he did now just seemed to make Helen more bitter, and she never served to disappoint whenever she spoke to him, always making sure he knew everything was his fault.
He focused in on the house, distracting himself from the feeling of loneliness, and noticed a curtain twitch slightly. Realising suddenly that he must look suspicious just sitting in his vehicle outside the house of a murder victim, he unclipped his seat belt, grabbed his mobile off the dash and got out of the car.
The husband opened the door as he arrived, two small faces peeping out from behind the safety of his legs, their eyes wide as they looked up at Alex.
‘Mr Mackintosh. Detective Chief Inspector Alex McKay. I’m here to express my sincere condolences and speak with you about Susan if I may.’ The well-polished lines fell from his lips smoothly, but in his head, they sounded insincere and emotionless. He watched as a slow shutter of pain passed over the husband’s eyes before he composed himself and stood to one side, silently granting Alex access to the house.
He led the way into the living room, the two children holding tightly to his legs as they moved back and forth with the stepping motion. He half turned and motioned to Alex to sit on the smaller brown leather sofa.
Alex remained silent as the two children clambered up the couch and clung to their broken father, one on each side.
‘The Coroner’s Officer said he can’t release the body yet. When can I have my wife’s funeral, Mr McKay?’ His voice trembled on the word funeral, and he pulled the children a little closer to him. It was obvious to Alex that the man had adored his wife. He was finding the transition difficult, and as was often the case, the children became his rock, his sense of strength.
‘We have lines of enquiry ongoing at the moment that require keeping your wife’s body for the time being. As soon as I can, I ‘ll have her released over to your funeral directors. Would you prefer to continue this conversation at a time when someone could perhaps look after the children for a while?’ asked Alex.
The husband stared at him, not understanding that the conversation would likely prove too much for the innocent minds of his children. Realisation eventually dawned and he nodded. ‘Susan’s mother is upstairs. She’ll have the children for a while.’
He got up and led the children away, and Alex heard muffled speech as Brian made his request.
When he returned, Alex explained all the points of the case honestly. He had learnt o
ver the years not to tell untruths, or sugar coat information when speaking with relatives. Invariably, they wanted to know the basic truth and what would happen next. He still paused over his next question though; it was never a pleasant thing to reveal a person’s infidelity.
‘Brian, did you know your wife was pregnant?’
‘Pregnant? That’s not possible. I had the snip after we had Abbie.’
‘I’m very sorry to ask, but is it possible that your wife could have been having an affair?’
Alex watched as Brian’s face paled in shock. Tears pricked at his eyes and his breath caught as comprehension dawned.
‘Oh God. Why? Why would she do that? We have everything. I mean … it’s not been easy lately, I’ve been doing more hours at the centre coz we’ve had a lot more people in needing assistance, but I thought we were OK. I thought she knew I was doing it for us. Was it him, Detective? Did that monster kill my Susan?’
On his last desperate question, Brian broke down. Great heaving sobs caused his shoulders to shudder as he wept out his anger and grief. Alex wondered how long he had held it in, whether he had cried before today or just been in a state of denial. And he felt like a complete heel. Being the one to tell someone their wife was having an affair definitely rated high on the list of things he didn’t enjoy doing. Silently, Alex handed Brian a box of tissues from the table.
An hour passed quickly, and as Brian walked Alex to the front door, his voice filled with emotion and tears shone heavy in his eyes. ‘Please find who did this to my wife, Detective. Please. I don’t care what she did with him, whether she was pregnant. She was my wife. If she strayed, then it was my fault. I should have been here for her more.’
Alex nodded. ‘I ‘ll do everything in my power to catch this person, Brian. You have my word. I’ll be in touch.’ Always conscious never to make a promise he couldn’t keep. His words were positive and confident. Brian nodded once, then closed the door with a quiet click. Alex could imagine him resting his head on the door frame in defeat.
As he walked back down the path towards the car, he felt a heavy drop of rain hit his cheek. Visiting those left behind was always hard, it left him with a heavy heart and today, a sense of unease. He wasn’t one for making snap judgements where suspects were concerned, but his gut was screaming that Brian hadn’t killed Susan. Which meant someone else had. And who knew what that person would do next?
He climbed into the car and brought the engine to life with a roar, just as the heavens opened, and the rain began lashing down in earnest.
Chapter Eleven
Ryhope Police Station – 26 September
Cass had made good use of her rest days, cleaning and finishing the decoration of the laundry room which was now fully kitted out with the washer from the kitchen. She had made up the spare room ready for her mum’s visit, and finally headed to work for late shift and was currently sat in her office with a hot coffee.
It had been a slow night.
Faith, Johnny and herself had cleaned all the vans, ensured they were all stocked, sorted out the DNA freezer and the other two were currently putting exhibits through the in-force property systems. It kept costs down to do as much as possible in house so the expensive cost of hiring external companies didn’t mount up. This meant that there were always a large number of exhibits kept in the secure store. Every couple of months it got to the point where you could barely move for boxes of items.
Each CSI was supposed to keep on top of putting their exhibits through and sending them off to the main property store, however in reality this wasn’t the case. Generally, when people got a quiet late shift they would start the arduous task of booking the items out on Socard and packaging them to be transported, usually by means of Frank the handyman. Frank only worked a thirty-hour week, the same as a lot of the police civilian staff, so if he wasn’t around then whoever was on day shift would take whatever items were required over to the main depot in the city centre.
Cass sat back in her chair and felt a small shiver as she remembered her evening with Alex before he had left to go home. It had felt strange at first, having Alex’s presence take over the living room. He had enjoyed her food and said he had been in need of company. She had spent hours since then wondering about what that meant, whether he would want her company again. They had talked until late, mostly about him and his family, a little about the case, and not much at all about her. She couldn’t tell him about the demons she had, making her reclusive and solitary in nature. Cass frowned to herself, acknowledging that she’d wanted to open up and tell him why she’d jumped so violently when he surprised her the morning he’d stayed over. She wanted to explain what gave her bad dreams and why she lived so far out of town.
But she couldn’t.
Because to tell him was admitting that she hadn’t moved on. She still lived in his shadow. And she always would.
Downing the last of her coffee and glancing at the clock, she wandered into the main office. Johnny and Faith were sat in silence, the radio playing quietly as they managed the bags surrounding them.
Looking up, Faith said, ‘Hey, Cass. Come to give us a hand? Stupid RFID scanner has gone skew-whiff, I’ve logged it with IT and they’re popping out tomorrow. I’ll put a note on monitor before I go. I’m just putting the barcodes in by hand.’
Cass smiled. ‘No I’m sure you guys can manage. I might do a pizza run though if anyone interested?’
‘I’m good thanks, Cass, too skint for pizza. Might get some chips though?’ Faith grabbed her handbag and started scrabbling for some change.
Johnny pulled the security tag tightly around the top of the latest property bag, pressed enter on the keyboard and spun on his chair to look at Cass. ‘I’ll go, Cass. I’ve gotta take these down to the mail room anyway and could use some air. What pizza you wanting?’
‘Chicken and mushroom please. I’ll shout you guys too, as a thank you for doing everyone else’s property,’ she added with a grin, knowing Faith would object. Despite never having any money she wasn’t one for charity. Cass watched as Faith glanced at Johnny, who shrugged noncommittally.
‘Thanks, Cass, would you mind if I got a chicken kebab then please?’ she asked.
‘No problem, Faith.’
Cass handed £30 to Johnny with a grin, ‘See you shortly.’
An hour later they’d all eaten, cleared up, and Johnny and Faith had perked up a little with the end of shift looming. Cass had already returned to her office and had completed the last of the Personal Development Reviews for the staff. Sitting back, she glanced at the clock above the door.
‘Faith, Johnny, you guys get yourselves off home. I’ll cover if anything comes in before twelve.’
She didn’t need to offer twice. Both of them had their stuff gathered and the office door locked before Cass had pressed save on the document she was working on.
Cass listened for a moment, the silence of the station almost deafening at this time of night. The nightshift were out on their patrols and the late shift had finished twenty minutes ago. Some people might have thought it a bit creepy, but Cass liked the quiet. She pulled her phone from her pocket, set the volume low and put her tunes on shuffle. For once, she was likely to finish on time.
Chapter Twelve
The Denes Park, Sunderland – 28 September
Scott was really pissed off. Despite Brian’s wife being killed, he had been at work today, on his case again, ranting on about second chances and opportunities. Brian and Gill had sat him down in the office like he was a frigging baby, telling him they thought he had potential and that he had been awarded more hours at the centre to help him get on track. It bugged the life out of him that Brian couldn’t keep his nose out. He just wanted to be left alone.
He’d had enough of all the shit and wanted to leave the centre. But it was part of his probation terms to attend the centre daily. Scott scowled to himself as he walked through the back alley that led to the park.
Stupid bloke had seen him
jemmy the car door. He was the only reason he’d been caught. He’d have been home free with the satnav if it hadn’t been for nosy neighbours.
Being on probation had made him more popular though.
John-Joe and Jamie actually wanted to spend time with him now. Brian had said they were too old to want to spend time with him, and were trying to manipulate him, but he was wrong. He was going to be part of their gang now, all because of getting caught. They trusted him. All he had to do now was pass their damned initiation, and he’d be a fully-fledged member of the small gang. Then he would be introduced to the other members, the leader even.
Brian didn’t get the honour involved in that. Brian didn’t get anything.
Kourtney, his girlfriend, thought it was great. She was already hanging around with Jamie’s girlfriend Sam, talking about whatever it was that girls talked about. He was pleased – it had stopped her being quite so clingy with him. He’d been on the verge of dumping her when he had been given probation. But the sex was good, and who was he really to complain?
Scott’s dad was always at the pub, so more often than not Kourtney stayed over. Her parents had sent the police on more than one occasion to pick her up; they didn’t get that she doted on him. They thought he was a bad influence.
Maybe I am a bad influence. But it’s her choice to hang around with me. I don’t make her miss school. Maybe she’s the bad influence on me. He frowned slightly as the thoughts ran round his head.
Scott was due to start work shortly. Not that his job took up much time: he only did part-time hours. But it topped his dole up so he could afford booze and fags, and the occasional bag of skunk. It was still a pain though. Pulling on the crumpled, black uniform shirt, he made his way towards the park.
Kourtney would be at the bandstand, skipping school as usual.
He figured if he grabbed her now, he could get a quickie in before he went to work. There was a local garage block that had a few empty slots, and Kourtney was always up for it whenever he asked. As he neared the park though, he heard yelling, and turned the corner just in time to see the old drunk lobbing a lager can at Kourtney.
With Deadly Intent Page 8
