With Deadly Intent

by KA Richardson

  The sun was just starting to appear on the horizon as he threw the seaweed back down to the beach, placed his precious toolbox into the boot, got into the car seat covered with a cut up black bin bag, and drove to the place he had so carefully selected; his own private balcony from which to watch the next act of his great show.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Burglary Crime Scene, Sunderland – 11 October

  Cass jabbed the squirrel hairbrush through her ponytail in one motion, before gathering up the pots of powder and acetates from her forensic kit and closing the case with a snap. She carefully sealed the evidence bag containing the swabs and placed it, with the lifts, into the pocket of her combat trousers.

  It had been a busy day so far; Faith had phoned in sick after getting some bug off Joey who, she’d been reliably informed, was still off school. Deena was on annual leave which left Fred Everett working the jobs, until the late shift came in anyway. It was turning out to be one of those days, so Cass had dutifully picked up several jobs off the log. When it was busy everyone mucked in, at least everyone was supposed to. She frowned as she remembered the conversation with the city centre depot earlier that morning and their complete lack of support relating to the outstanding jobs. She would have to schedule a meeting with them to discuss the benefits of teamwork and cooperation, and brief Jason on any impending problems. Kevin was still off work, Marge’s death hitting him hard, and Cass didn’t know when he would return.

  Her current job, a bogus official, had been a quickie she’d attended on route to another. Grabbing her case, she wandered into the living room to tell the elderly victim what would happen next.

  ‘Martha,’ she said, kneeling down in front of the frail woman sat on the sofa. She waited patiently until Martha looked at her, tears glistening in her opaque eyes. ‘I’ve taken some swabs from the mug you said the woman had used. I’m going to send those off to our DNA lab to see if there’s anything on them. I’ve also got a couple of fingerprint lifts off the mug itself which we’ll check against known offenders on the computer.’ Cass was fully aware of CID listening in from the armchair by the fire, but purposefully kept her attention directed at the frail old lady. Understanding passed over Martha’s face, and she nodded at Cass.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, the shock rendering her voice all but a whisper.

  As Cass stood and nodded to Sam Walsh, one of the CID Burglary Team, she heard her name mentioned on the radio clipped to the side of her belt.

  Taking her leave, she quickly put her gear in the van and jumped in, twisting her radio and pulling it from its clip. Turning the volume up slightly, she depressed the side button to speak. ‘LV, this is 7265 Hunt, did I just hear you call for me?’

  ‘Hey, Cass. Sorry to push this on you, I know you guys are busy. But it looks like we have a murder coming in. DCI McKay has requested you attend the rendezvous point as quickly as you can.’

  Cass sighed deeply. It never rained but it poured. ‘OK, LV, thanks. I’ll call in some cover, but can you make sure no ETAs are given for any jobs coming in? Also please ring the IPs for any outstanding jobs on the log and advise them of potential delays. I’ll update you with staff details as soon as I have them. Where’s the RV point?’

  She jotted down the location quickly, clipped her radio back on her belt and turned the key in the ignition. She had received Alex’s cryptic text yesterday and hadn’t said, figuring today would be there soon enough. Now though, she doubted her decision, wondering what he would say when she got to the scene.

  As the car radio kicked in, the gruff tones of Nickelback blared from the speakers, singing words about living and dying, and for a moment Cass felt a lump in her throat. Some days she wondered what the world was all about, when old ladies were robbed and people were killed; she took a minute to reflect on her silent question, resting her head on the steering wheel. If it wasn’t for the evidence left behind, these people wouldn’t get caught. It was why she did the job she did, to help those that couldn’t help themselves, and give a voice to those who couldn’t speak. Her sense of security rebuilt, she put the van in gear and headed for the scene.

  It seemed like hours had passed before she arrived at the car park on top of the cliff, but really it had only been around ten minutes. She parked the van, took a deep swig from the bottle of water she always had to hand, and walked over to the melee of police cars.

  Squinting in the bright sun, she stopped as a shiver suddenly passed through her. Cass shaded her eyes with her hand and scanned the area in the distance, feeling the little hairs rise on the back of her neck. She once again acknowledged the lead weight in her stomach. Shrugging in surrender, she knew it would be a bad one – but then she always got that feeling when it came to murder.

  She had just given her name and force number to the loggist when she heard Alex’s voice.

  ‘Cass, thanks for getting here so quick. I was just about to start. We have a white male, believed homeless from his appearance. Severely beaten to death in a cave on the beach. His dog’s also been killed. Containment is proving difficult as the cave entrance overlooks the sea – we’ve already got media on boats with telephoto lenses. I’ve got the Media Liaison trying to gain control, but you know what that’s like. Have also taken the liberty of contacting the coast guard who are en route with some floaters to manage the media. The body was found by two school kids who were bunking off school, they’ve been taken back to the station.’

  Cass nodded, realising belatedly that he wouldn’t want to talk at a crime scene. ‘Poor kids. We can put up a tunnel tent at the entrance that should help obscure anything the press can see. How many officers have been in the cave?’

  ‘One. The first officer on scene is only just out of probation. I’ve sent him back to the nick.’ Alex sighed, then almost as an afterthought he added, ‘The vomit to the exterior of the cave entrance is his.’

  ‘OK. If you don’t mind, I’ll head down and begin. I’ll need a couple of officers to help with the tunnel tent and equipment until my staff arrives. They’re travelling from South Shields.’

  ‘Porter, Johnson, you accompany Cass to the beach. Mind the path though, it’s steep.’ Alex turned slightly, dismissing the officers and Cass silently.

  Alex had been right; the cliff path was steep. Cass almost fell a few times, her bulky kit causing more of a hindrance than a help. Porter and Johnson also concentrated on not slipping as they carried the stepping plates, tripod and large bag of other assorted kit between them. They all paused at the inner cordon manned by two more officers, and promptly plonked all the equipment down.

  ‘Wait here while I take a look,’ said Cass. She pulled on a white scene suit and put blue plastic covers over her boots. Already she could feel the perspiration start to flow. It was uncharacteristically warm for the time of year, and the heat made the suits even worse. Snapping on two pairs of purple gloves, she yanked up the hood to the suit, and pulled a face mask over the top. Checking the settings on the camera, she began taking shots of the area leading to the cave.

  As she approached the cave entrance, the sudden aroma of vomit filtered through the mask to her nostrils. Catching the gag reflex, she breathed deep and purposefully through her mouth, avoiding looking at the large pool that resembled vegetable soup. Of all the smells she encountered at a crime scene, vomit was always the one that knocked her for six and had, in the past, caused her to throw up in response.

  Hugging the edge of the cave, she made her way inside.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ muttered Cass as she took in the image of the blood-painted walls and the horrific injuries to the man and dog. She was surprised to feel bile rise in her throat. In the seven years she’d been doing the job, she’d never seen anything quite so gruesome. The blood patterns up the wall showed multiple hits with whatever the killer had used. Grey brain matter was scattered around the old man’s head and he was covered in contusions and lacerations. A wave of compassion flooded through her as she took in the torn, dirt
y blankets and the precious dog bed. Whatever his problems, the old man had tried to make the best for himself that he could. It was clear that this cave had been his home.

  Cass finished her photography, before using her own footwear marks as a guide to retrace her steps back to the entrance. The sunlight hit her like a bolt, and she fought back another wave of nausea. She pulled the mask off, bent over and put her hands on her knees as she gulped in breaths of air. Shaking her head ruefully, she acknowledged that for once, she was glad she’d skipped breakfast.

  Telling the officers to stand by Cass made her way to the top of the cliff to speak to Alex.

  ‘Alex, a word?’ she said, motioning Alex to one side with her hand.

  ‘You OK? You look a little green.’ said Alex quietly.

  Trying to hide how shaken she felt, she said, ‘Yeah, hot in here.’ She unzipped the front of the suit before continuing, ‘We need a blood pattern analyst and the doc down here. It’s bad. Worst I’ve seen to be honest.’

  ‘Nigel Evans will be here in a little over an hour. I’ll ask Comms to get the on-call analyst out. The lounge is here, you should go get a drink and what-not. Get out of your suit.’

  Cass felt her cheeks flush at his innocent comment. Normally she was much thicker skinned; working for the police did that. Alex realised the implications and shook his head, rolling his eyes in an effort to diffuse her embarrassment. She felt herself start to smile back, and then feeling somewhat mortified at the thought of flirting at the scene of a murder, she drew back and said, ‘It’s OK thanks, I’ll cool down later. Gonna head back down. Will you show Nigel where I am?’

  Alex nodded. ‘You want me to send your staff too?’

  ‘No, it’s OK, tell them to wait in the lounge. The analyst and doc need to have a look first. Am going to put some stepping plates down, get the tent up and start my notes.’

  As she turned, Alex slowly moved his hand and swiped at her face softly. Cass felt electricity shoot down her cheek and into her neck at the contact. She pulled back slightly, looking at him, silently asking him what he was doing. He cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing slightly. ‘You erm…’ clearing his throat he finished his sentence. ‘You’ve got silver powder on your cheek.’

  Sensing his embarrassment, Cass grinned and said, ‘Just call me the Tin Man. Silver face and no heart, that’s me.’ For a millisecond, a look of utter sadness crossed her face, but it was gone in an instant and Alex half thought he had imagined it.

  By the time he thought to reply, she’d turned away and was heading back down the cliff. He watched her figure retreat for a moment, then, pulling his head back in the game, he turned and headed back towards the lounge.

  Cass had been on the beach for around an hour when the blood pattern analyst was led down the path. The tunnel tent had been erected at the entrance, and the front flapped slightly in the sea breeze. She put a hand over her eyes, trying to obscure the sun to see the woman that stood before her.

  ‘Moira Phillips, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure?’ she questioned directly, holding her hand out towards Cass. There was the hint of an Irish accent and the red hair and pale skin backed up the evidence of her descent. With her short, slim frame, she looked almost like a pixie and Cass stretched out her own hand, shaking firmly, a little surprised at the strength of the grip from the unusually short female.

  ‘I’m Cass, thank you for coming so quickly. Have you been briefed?’

  Moira nodded in return, her keen eyes taking in Cass’s somewhat dishevelled appearance and guarded look. ‘Pretty bad is what I’ve been told but I’m guessing from how you look that it’s worse than pretty bad?’

  Cass nodded slowly. ‘We have a male and a dog inside. The body can’t be disturbed as the doc hasn’t been yet. There’s a lot of spatter and brain matter, and with the heat, he’s starting to smell a little. The spatter may have been disturbed by either the offender as he cleaned up, or the boys who found the body.’

  ‘Boys? Jesus. The things people do never cease to amaze me,’ Moira muttered under her breath, before visibly steeling herself. ‘I’m ready to go in.’

  Cass held open the flap entrance to the tent, and allowed Moira to go in first, watching as she stepped carefully on the silver plates that had been strategically placed around the cave. Cass had managed to rig up some lighting, which though relatively dim, helped illuminate the inbuilt delve in the cliff face. There was also a ray of light coming in through a crack in the ceiling above the entrance and Cass heard Moira gasp as it seemed to illuminate the body of the old man.

  Moira had been in the cave for around twenty minutes when a shout came from the cave entrance. They both exited quickly and came face to face with Nigel who was pulling on his foot covers.

  ‘Two in a month, Cass? Something you’re not telling me?’ he joked lightly, smiling to accompany his humour.

  Cass smiled back warmly and quickly introduced Moira, before escorting Nigel back into the cave. He frowned, the dim lights of the cave casting shadows over his straight-cut features. ‘The PM’s going to be a long one,’ he said quietly as he pulled out his digital recorder and began making verbal notes.

  Ryhope Pier, Sunderland

  It had taken him a while to get set up. His fishing line hung over the edge of the pier, aimlessly touching the water with no intent of catching fish. The brown fishing hat hung low over his eyes, helping the fake moustache obscure his features. Sometimes disguise was essential, and he took great care to ensure he used different ones for each job. He had invested in the likes of cheek inserts and fake teeth coverings. He currently looked right at home on the pier with the other fishermen.

  The reality of course was that it just provided him a good vantage point from which to observe what was happening on the shore opposite. His grin had spread wide as he watched the young police officer bring up his breakfast outside the cave. Keen interest had almost marred his attempt at blending in as he watched her, the one who’d dealt with scene of his previous kill, boss some officers into helping her with a long tent at the entrance to the cave. He had already noticed the telephoto lenses on the boats drifting just deep enough not to beach themselves on the virtually still waves of the ocean, and he knew they were recording his show. He would stop at the newsagents on the way home and see what the headlines were saying.

  He felt a moment of satisfaction – it was all thanks to him.

  Momentarily he wondered who the tiny red-headed woman was, but as she came out of the cave when a male approached and started sketching, he decided she was some kind of scientist, designed to help tell the crime scene manager exactly what had occurred.

  He frowned as he tried in vain to see to the top of the cliff where the persistent flashing blue lights proved a large police presence. He wondered if her sex slave was there, whether he had been lucky enough to nab the same team for his second show as for his first.

  He was tired now. It felt like he had been up forever, and he knew when he finally crawled into bed, his hard work would be paid in full with the promise of a deep sleep.

  His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a gruff voice. Guardedly, he glanced up, knowing his hat and sunshades were helping hide him well. A young male stood in front of him, his tracksuit bottoms tucked into the tops of his socks and bright white Nike trainers stark against the wood of the pier. His eyes travelled up past the Sunderland football shirt to the lad’s spotty, arrogant face. ‘I said, can I have some spare change, mister,’ spat the lad, scowling at him with a complete lack of fear.

  Dislike brewed, and instantly he knew he had just discovered his next work of art. Deciding to begin his preparation work, he smiled at the young man

  ‘Yeah sure.’ He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a few quid, holding his hand out to the lad, but clenching his fist closed before the coins were released, ‘What’s your name?’

  The teenager paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. ‘Andy Smith,’ he said, holding out hi
s hand.

  Letting the coins drop into Andy’s hand, he said, ‘Sit yourself down, lad. Seems to be something going on over there.’

  Shrugging, Andy sat down, cross-legged beside him, not noticing as his new friend’s face twisted into a slight grimace.

  Making friends was never a problem.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ryhope Police Station

  Cass had let the staff from the Shields office go home, only an hour past their mid-shift end time which wasn’t too bad. Fred had long since left for the day and Greg was out processing the backlog of jobs. Cass’s office resembled the proverbial bomb site, as the exhibits gathered thus far were strewn all over the floor and spare work desk.

  Her own desk was covered in paperwork, thumbnail images and just general stuff. She sighed to herself – it was going to be another long night.

  Knowing Alex was still somewhere in the station hadn’t helped matters when she first started. She wanted to see him, to talk about what the hell was going on because she didn’t have a clue what had changed from one day to the next.

  But instead of pondering further, she’d got on with the paperwork.

  Carol and Frankie, two of the South Shields’ CSIs, had already booked the exhibits out of Socard ready for Cass, and she was busy bagging them up and sealing the bags with unique tags. Some would go to HQ for processing and internal examination, and the rest would be handed to the exhibits officer who was due in her office at 10.30 p.m.

  Deciding she needed a caffeine hit to boost her before starting on the murder box, she jumped up and strode out of the door – and bumped into someone coming the other way.

  Impacting hard with a solid force, she stepped backwards instinctively, and grunted with a loud ‘Oomph’ before looking up into Alex’s surprised face. His hands reached out quickly to steady her, his eyes not breaking her gaze.