Suddenly his mind flashed back to those Sunday mornings. His mother would wake him at 5 a.m. on the dot. His father was always allowed to stay in bed. He was not a religious man, much to his mother’s exasperation. Quietly, so as not to wake the man that was her husband, she’d put her son into a scalding bath and scrub his skin until it was red raw, telling him softly that she was scrubbing out his sins. When he was little, he would cry, the tiny spots of blood scaring him. Startled by the noise, she’d started pushing the flannel into his mouth, muffling the sobs. He soon learnt that if he stayed quiet, she ‘d stop quicker, and he wouldn’t be subjected to the flannel. And then it would be off to church, to show the world what a wonderful son she had.
Right up until the day she’d died, he had detested Sunday mornings. He still did.
But a Sunday would be a good day for the show. The ‘day of rest’ in the working week meant fewer people in the town centre and more on the beach. People would certainly remember this show, especially if the scene was placed in plain view, ready for their attention as they scurried like rats fitting everything into their day off. It would prove a little more intricate to plan, but he still had over a fortnight left. He knew he could do it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sunderland Outreach Centre – 15 October
Brian sat in his office, Gill standing beside him as they both stared in consternation at one of the local beat officers, PC Rob Watson, who was sitting in front of them.
‘Are you sure it was Scott? He couldn’t have been coerced by another boy?’
Brian frowned as the man shook his head.
‘Brian, I’m sorry. I wanted it not to be Scott too – I personally looked at the footage for the shop and also picked some up from over the road. There was no one with Scott except Kourtney. He left her on watch outside, entered the shop, punched the shop owner and made off with the money from the till. Mr Ahmed, the owner, doesn’t want to press charges, he just wants Scott warned off. Says this happens all the time. But with the CCTV evidence I don’t really have a choice, Brian. I need to arrest Scott, which means he ‘ll be in direct breach of his probation order. There isn’t anything I can do. I actually thought Scott might have tried to turn his life around with the chances you guys have given him.’
Frustrated, Brian swore softly. Running his hands through his hair, worry lines deepening into wrinkles on his too young brow, he sighed.
‘You know what, Rob, it’s not your fault. Scott had every chance to improve himself. I don’t like washing my hands of any kid, especially one I’m sure is inherently good at heart, but he made the decision to go into the shop, he chose to take the money and hit the owner. You need to do what you need to do. It’s nobody’s fault but Scott’s that this is happening. If the judge decides to be lenient, I’ll happily keep him in the programme – but if not, then there’s not really a lot I can do.’
‘Sucks though, Brian. How’re you holding up anyway? Didn’t expect to see you back at work so soon.’
‘I’m OK, getting through one day at a time. I was going a little nuts in the house to be honest. Maureen’s great, but she’s practically moved in since Susan…’ He paused taking a breath, steadying the wave of emotion that threatened his composure. ‘I can’t complain, though. She’s great with the kids, they need her at the minute. And I had to come back to work sometime.’
‘Yeah, I guess. You’ve got my number, right, in case anything happens here? What time’s Scott due in today?’
Brian glanced at his watch, ‘He should be here anytime now. His session’s booked in from 12.30 p.m. for the afternoon. Gill, can you arrange for Stan to give you a hand with the session – the other kids will need motivating if Rob here is going to arrest Scott in view.’
‘Sorry, Brian, I’ll be as discreet as I can. Know the uniform makes the kids uncomfortable.’
Brian nodded, acknowledging without reply. It didn’t take a genius to know that kids with problems had an aversion to the police. Most of them had encountered the wrong side of the law at some point. It was a big part of why they had to attend the centre.
‘Actually, Rob, would you mind staying in the office? I’ll bring Scott to you – less disturbance that way.’
‘Sure thing. As long as this pretty young lady wouldn’t mind making me a coffee while I wait?’
He batted his eyelids at Gill, who smiled widely, laid her hand on his arm and said, ‘I’m way too old for a youngster like you, and I don’t make coffee, sugar, but I ‘ll show you where the kettle is. Come on.’
Grinning at Brian, Rob got to his feet and followed Gill as she sashayed her way out of the corridor in the general direction of the staff kitchen.
Scott turned up about half an hour later, and Brian dutifully herded him into the office, where Rob was waiting. Scott’s scowl turned to hatred when he saw Rob waiting.
‘You grassed me up? You twat,’ he spat, in Brian’s direction as Rob quickly cuffed him.
‘Enough, Scott, he didn’t grass you up. CCTV did. The whole thing was caught on camera. Scott Anderson, you’re under arrest. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
He walked Scott out of the office, leaving Brian looking on, shaking his head in disappointment. He hated being wrong.
He had watched as Scott entered the centre. He’d noticed the police car parked round the corner when he arrived, and he had wondered if it was for the kid.
Five minutes later, he watched as Scott was marched out of the centre in cuffs and walked to the car.
Damn it, the kid couldn’t keep his nose clean for a second. It would be a gift to society getting rid of the little shit. Provided of course he wasn’t kept in custody, or remanded when he attended court, which would no doubt be soon.
He scowled at the officer as he placed Scott into the backseat of the panda and jumped into the driver’s seat.
Damn police had the worst timing.
He glanced at his watch; it was almost time for work. Grumbling to himself he wandered back to his car and wondered what he would do if Scott was remanded – it would most definitely scupper his plans. Perhaps he should have a back-up.
A cold smile flittered across his lips as he decided this was a good option. There was one person he already knew a great deal about, it wouldn’t be too hard to alter the plan for Scott to the beloved Kourtney instead. Or he could do the meddlesome CSM or her slave. He knew enough about both of them now, where they lived, worked, and shopped. Though he would admit their routines were somewhat irregular.
Not one of the three would expect it.
Choices, choices, he thought, as he turned the key once, turned it back to the off position, then started the engine and drove home to get ready.
Content now, he grinned. Every good plan should have a back-up.
Sunderland City Police Station – 15 October
Alex made his way down to custody, unlocked the door and entered the waiting area. It was only seconds before he was buzzed through to the booking desk.
It was busy today; the stench of warm sweat and chemical cleansers mixed with the faint undertone of fresh paint and assaulted his nostrils as he glanced around the recently refurbished suite.
Walter Saunders, or Wally as he was called, to his face at least, was seated behind the main desk, his puckered face reddening in the central heated cluster of rooms. Behind his back though, the officers were far less kind. Wally was less affectionately known as Nar Nar, so named for his response when being asked to do something by anyone not holding rank. ‘Wally, could you do me a favour?’ a colleague would ask and Wally would respond with his force wide known reply, ‘Nar Nar, not my job, mate.’
For people like Alex though, the response was always more akin to the TV character off the old TV show Roots, when Nar Nar would quickly become ‘yes, boss.’ Alex didn’t like the man, but he respected his position
. Custody Sergeant wasn’t a role suited to everyone, and despite his attitude, he was in the right place.
There was a queue of officers waiting to book prisoners in, all of whom looked sullen and miserable as Wally slowly allocated them their cells for their time in the criminal version of the Holiday Inn. The prisoners were given the basics only; toilet breaks if they were in the small holding cells without a toilet, food, water and a thin, plastic coated mattress to lay their weary heads. The Ritz however, it was most definitely not. Frequently, the offenders showed their displeasure at the room allocation by smearing their own faeces and blood all over the walls. The cells were not a pleasant part of the station.
Alex leant against the wall and sighed – it would be a while before he would get the file he wanted. But for once, he had time to wait, and he quite liked watching how people acted in environments that weren’t his own. He’d had his fair share of run-ins in custody though, a faint smile passed over his lips as he remembered one particularly colourful incident from his days as a beat bobby where he had assisted in a strip search of a male who turned out to be wearing women’s lacy knickers and stockings under his masculine clothes. That gave the whole nick something to talk about for weeks.
He straightened as he watched one of the male offenders, approaching the front of the queue. There was something about his body language that was virtually screaming ‘watch me blow.’ His fists were clenched in his cuffs, his legs slightly askew and apart, his stance solid, and his pupils were pin pricks: he was obviously high on something. The officer at his side was still young, possibly a probationer, and his colleague had gone to escort a second prisoner to the cells.
Alex barely had time to blink as the man acted, throwing himself at the young officer and sending him into the wall with force. Wally hit the alarm behind the counter quickly, bellowing at the prisoner to stop. Frantic now, the lad looked for an escape but was blocked on every side by other offenders and officers.
Alex stepped forward, grabbing his attention.
‘Easy,’ he said softly, holding his hands out in an effort to placate the man, who snorted like a wild animal, spit spraying from his mouth as he gasped his breath. Alex knew there would be no way to talk him down, he was flying higher than the Angel of the North, and probably didn’t know where he was. Alex moved slowly to the side, watching out of the corner of his eye as the officers started closing in.
Seeing a gap, the man decided his best option was to run for the door, and he bolted, crashing into another offender and sending him flying to the floor. Alex stuck his foot out, tripping the runaway and causing him to stumble. He then grabbed the man’s arms and put his knee into his back.
‘Easy, stop struggling. You’ll make it worse for yourself.’
The wailing that came from the man was primal, but it was quickly silenced to a whimper as three more officers quickly helped Alex restrain him. The other waiting prisoners set up a chant to encourage the offender on the floor into further rebellion but it was rapidly extinguished by harsh stare of warning from Wally.
Within a couple of minutes, the man had been placed into additional restraints and moved into a cell to await a visit from the duty FME.
Alex stood slowly, brushing his trousers down, his cheeks a little pink. He took note of the officers watching him and nodded in acknowledgement.
He walked over to talk to the probationer, who was sitting on the bench to one side looking ashen.
‘You get ‘em like that every now and then. Trick is to watch their hands. If they’re relaxed, then they’re not likely to kick off like that. If they’re tense, then just be on your guard. Are you hurt?’
‘No, sir, my ego’s a little bruised but that’s it.’
‘It’s just Alex, no need for sir. And bruised egos mend, you’ll be more aware next time.’
The lad nodded slowly, and Alex turned back towards the desk where Wally was back to his old self and swiftly booking people in.
‘What is it I can help you with today, boss?’ he asked, glancing up as he signed his name on a custody record.
‘I just need to see the custody file for Rob McNally, SRN 984442. I’m not in a rush though, just give me a shout when you’ve sorted it out?’
‘Yeah sure, I’ll sort it out as soon as this lot are settled in and have one of the guys bring it up for you.’
Alex nodded, and turned to leave as the side door opened and Rob, one of the beat officers, ushered in a sulky looking teenager.
He grinned at Alex, and said to the teen, ‘Well, Scott, looks like you’ll have a bit of a wait looking at the queue here. Hope you didn’t have plans for the afternoon.’
‘I’m not staying in here all day. Get me done first,’ said Scott, scowling at Rob who remained passive. ‘For fuck’s sake, I need to take a leak.’
‘Well you’ll just have to hold it in. You’ll get to the front soon enough.’
Scott slammed his back against the wall in temper, wincing slightly as the cuffs chafed at his wrists with the impact.
Alex manoeuvred past the two and made his way back out to the corridor. He found himself wandering along to the CSI office, despite knowing Cass wasn’t there. She’d told him she was at the central depot all day, in and out of meetings and sorting through some evidence.
He grinned to himself as he remembered her shyness after their shower; she’d drowned herself in the oversized bath sheet, hiding her body as she got dressed beneath it. He had teased her a little, and it had been comfortable. It was a long time since he had felt comfortable with anyone. The more he got to know her, the more his feelings about what had happened with Helen faded, and he was starting to believe he wasn’t a bad person. When he thought about their relationship honestly, and looked past the blame, he could remember the constant bickering and nit-picking. The way Helen had constantly hidden her mobile phone from his view and spent ages in the bathroom. As he looked back now, he wondered if she’d been having an affair – not that it mattered, he was sure never having him around had given her every right, but now he was starting to wonder whether the split had been as mutual as he initially thought, or whether it had been orchestrated by her so she had an excuse to leave.
When it had finally broken down completely, he had felt a sense of relief. For him, and her. Overwhelming guilt but also an ultimate sense of relief.
He paused outside the CSI office, wondering where this sudden rush of emotion had come from, and listened for a moment as he steadied his thoughts. A burst of laughter emanated from within. Whatever the joke was, it was obviously funny as more giggles came from inside.
On impulse, Alex grabbed his phone and sent Cass a text asking if she fancied dinner that night – they’d both left the cottage in their respective vehicles without discussing when they’d see each other next. And he wanted to hear her laugh like that.
Finally deciding he was now guilty of just wasting time, he headed back up to the MIT office to have another look at the files piling high on his desk.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cass’s Cottage – 15 October
He stood in the shadows; his form completely obscured by the trees around the cottage. Pulling his jacket close as a shiver rippled through him, he acknowledged that winter was on its way. He’d been stood in the wood now for an hour, and the cold was starting to seep into his core.
Cass’s beat-up Peugeot was parked up, but the cottage was in darkness. He hadn’t seen them leave, but he knew she ‘d be with him. He’d seen them up close, practically canoodling in full view. Yes, they were definitely screwing each other.
In his opinion it was a crying shame the UK police forces didn’t employ similar policies as their US counterparts when it came to inter-office liaison. Over there, this kind of behaviour would have meant disciplinary action.
He heard the car approach before its headlights lit up the driveway. Shrinking back into the shadows, he watched as Alex pulled up, the white Audi stark in the floodlights around the cottage.
/> Scowling to himself in the pitch-black of the wood, he watched Alex open the car door for Cass and guide her to the front door, his hand at her back.
He didn’t like Alex. Cass was OK, he figured, she’d been nice to him once or twice, but Alex barely knew he was there – had actually blanked him earlier that day to his face.
He didn’t know yet whether Scott had been released from custody yet to take up his role as the fake, spotty, arrogant Andy. His plan was still focused on Scott, but he did like being prepared. This was the perfect location to start on Cass if he needed to. She would be easier than her slave to get rid of. And there was just something about her. He’d already seen the huge mutt that kept guard; a good dose of steak laced with a hefty dose of poison would soon get rid of that problem. As much as he enjoyed a good torture, there was no need to get close enough to let that monster bite him.
The woods provided an ideal backdrop, secluded, no neighbours, no one to hear her scream. Yes, this would definitely do as a back-up.
Now he only had to decide how.
It was only another seventeen days to his three-week deadline after all.
He froze as he heard soft voices to the rear of the cottage and realised they were taking the dog out. Worried it would pick up his scent, he left his hiding place and made his way back to the car.
He would look at Google Earth when he got home, see if he couldn’t find a better vantage point to keep watch from. If she was going to be his back-up, then he would do it properly. He might get rid of Alex too as a bonus, after forcing her to watch him endure a slow painful death of course. Might as well enjoy it.
Without the back-up plan, Alex would have eventually paid for blanking him. No one did that, not any more.
He got to the car and slipped the key in the ignition, listening to the engine roar to life, turned the heating on full, and set off home. He had taken a risk coming in his own car that evening, but he had just finished work and he didn’t really have time to pick up his mum’s car. He was confident he hadn’t been spotted though. The old logging track hadn’t been used in a long while.
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