“No, the one next door.”
I headed into the bathroom, my heartbeat going ten to the dozen. If I was right—Layla was definitely our killer. I just needed to check what was underneath those bloody tarpaulins.
Pixie was hovering in the hallway by the time I’d finished in the bathroom. “Coffee’s ready,” she called.
There was no chance of me getting back inside the garage. I’d need to think of another way to find out what was in there. I returned to the kitchen and sat at the dining table.
She handed me a mug of coffee and it smelled divine. “Thanks. This is the first one I’ve had today. I’d usually be onto my fifth cup by now.”
“Layla drinks far too much coffee as well. It must be something to do with the job.”
“Yeah. No doubt. We rarely get time for lunch so we live on the stuff.” I smiled. “I was surprised by everything in the garage. What are those two big things covered over?”
She rolled her eyes. “My ex’s belongings. It was only meant to be here for a short while until he got himself sorted, but he took off to France and Layla hasn’t seen him in ages.”
“Really? What are they?”
“A caravan and a vehicle of some kind. Don’t know, really. I’ve told her I’d scrap them if I was her. They’re not worth anything.”
My heart was racing. “A caravan? Seems strange to leave a caravan with somebody.”
“It’s his mum’s. He had it when we first got together and it’s just a pile of crap now. But it’s all he has to his name. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anymore, marrying a traveller.”
Her words sealed Layla’s fate. Layla’s dad was the traveller who bought the van. The last loose end was finally tied.
“What time did you say Layla would be back?”
“I thought she’d be here by now. Maybe she’s gone to see Max again—they’ve been arguing a lot lately.”
I thought I’d bite the bullet and ask her outright. “So, what do you think about him being a transsexual?”
“I think it’s disgusting. I mean, I have no problem with transsexuals in general, if that’s what a person feels then fine. But why wasn’t he honest with everyone prior to him getting married and having three kids? It makes me sick.”
It took all of my self-control to be able to remain calm. I got to my feet and put the cup in the sink. “I can’t wait any longer. I’ll come back later to see Layla.”
“Don’t tell her I spoke to you—she’ll go mad at me for interfering.”
“Maybe it’s best she doesn’t know I stopped by then?”
“Good idea. I’ll see you out.”
Forty-One
I rushed back into the office, wondering how I was going to explain my findings, and make everyone see I was telling the truth.
I burst in through the doors, all eyes turned to me. “We need to get a team round to Layla’s right now.”
“What’s going on, boss?” Will asked.
“I think Layla is our killer.” I was aware how crazy I sounded and even though, in my heart, I knew I was right, saying it out loud was another matter.
“Are you winding us up?” Joanna asked, her face a picture of confusion.
“No, I’m not.” The room descended into chaos as we all talked over one another.
“What the hell is going on in here?” Janine roared as she came crashing into the room.
“Dylan thinks Layla’s the killer,” Pete added.
“Our Layla? A killer?” She turned to me. “Have you lost your mind?”
“I know it seems that way, but we need to get around there, like now.”
“Hold your horses, Dylan,” Janine ordered. “Are you seriously accusing a long-serving member of your team of murdering five innocent people? Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“I know how crazy it sounds, but listen to me, please, or we could all be making the biggest mistake of our careers.”
I had the attention of the whole room.
“Talk and make it fast,” Janine ordered.
“I popped round to visit Layla last night to see if there was anything I could do for her, and, as I pulled up, I witnessed Layla basically throwing a woman out of her front door.”
“So what?” Janine commented. “It could have been this other woman of Max’s.”
“That’s what I thought, initially, as she rushed past my car. I didn’t get that good a look at her, but something about her must have caused a trigger because I woke up dead early this morning and realised who she was.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Janine said, having lost interest. “This is all very well and good, but why would it make you think Layla is the killer?”
“Because the person rushing out of Layla’s house was her ex-husband, Max.”
“Hang on a minute…” Janine looked confused. “… you just said it was a woman leaving Layla’s house. Make up your mind, Dylan.”
The rest of the team tittered at what they clearly thought was a badly executed joke.
I was pissed off they weren’t taking me seriously. “I know what I said, but Max was the woman leaving the house, and he’s transgender.” I looked around the room. The whole team stared at me open mouthed.
“Is it April Fool’s Day, or something?” Janine asked, sarcastically. “Very funny.”
“I know you think I’ve lost the plot but please give me the benefit of the doubt here, and if I’m wrong, I’ll resign. But we have to get around there, now.”
“No, Dylan.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not leaving here spouting this madness about one of our highly respected officers.”
“Layla is our killer, Janine, I know it.”
“Give me some proof and we’ll talk,” she said. “For all you know, Max could have been going to a fancy-dress party. If it was Max you saw.”
The team laughed.
I wish it was as easy as that because I wouldn’t be responsible for taking down my own partner. “Please, I know I’m right about this.”
Janine exhaled. “Then let’s suppose for a moment I believe what you’re telling me–what evidence do you have?”
“For starters, Layla’s Mum, Pixie, confirmed that Max is transgender.”
I noted the expression on Janine’s face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t joke about something like this, but there’s more. Max is managing director of Monahan Holdings and they own the sex shop where the prosthetics were procured.”
“Oh, my God,” Will said. “But didn’t Layla volunteer–”
“To go round there and speak to the manager.” I finished his sentence. “Yeah, she did, but according to her, there was no CCTV or anything that could lead us to a suspect.”
“Dylan, you have to be certain everything you are saying is correct because the fallout will be…” Janine shook her head.
“I know it’s definitely her. There’s a vehicle parked in her garage and I’m certain it’s the Transit van. Pixie confirmed it belonged to her ex-husband and he’s a traveller.”
“Heather, Pete stay here and see what you can find out. Get in touch with Max’s GP and confirm he’s trans. Will, you’re with me and Dylan.” She was halfway across the room while my mind was still whirling. “Come on, you lot, move it, now.”
“Pete, get uniform round to Layla’s stat, but make sure you tell them she’s possibly armed.”
I jumped in behind the wheel. Janine sat beside me, and Will in the back.
“I can’t believe this,” Will said.
“Me neither, I’d give anything to be wrong.” I sighed.
“Layla told me herself; Max had another woman,” Will added. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Max is the other woman, simple as.”
“But why didn’t she just tell us what was going on? There’s no shame in it. We would have supported her no matter what.”
“I’m no psychologist,” Janine said as I shot out of the car park. “But imagine how you’d feel if you
r marriage was a sham and you found out your husband was going to have his dick cut off.”
I cringed at Janine’s analysis, knowing there was so much more to what the transgender community went through before surgery was even discussed.
Traffic was building and we were slowing to a halt.
“Shit,” I said, banging the steering wheel.
“We don’t have time for this, Dylan, get the blues and twos going and shift this lot out the way.”
I did as she ordered and minutes later we were speeding down the dual carriageway.
“Why don’t you try to call Layla?” Will asked.
“I’ll do it,” Janine volunteered.
“No offence, but if you call her, she’ll know something’s up. I’ll do it.” I hit redial.
We were only a few minutes from her house now, but I was desperate to talk to her, knowing what was coming. If she heard the sirens, would she suspect her time was up?
She didn’t answer.
The tyres screeched as I rounded the corner.
“Jesus, Dylan,” Janine shrieked. “This isn’t an episode of Cagney and Lacey, you know.” She was holding onto the dashboard.
I turned into Layla’s estate. “She’s still not here. Her car’s not here.”
“It might be in the garage,” Will added.
“I already told you, the Transit is in there.”
I pulled the car to a stop.
“Let me go first. Will, you go and make sure nobody is trying to get out the back.”
He disappeared down the side of the house.
I banged on the door.
Janine stayed behind me.
“Hang on, I’m coming.” It was Pixie. She pulled the door open and looked surprised to see me standing there. “Oh, hello again. Sorry, but Layla isn’t back yet.”
“Have you heard from her?”
“No,” she said, looking at Janine. “Is everything okay, Dylan?”
“We need to find Layla as soon as possible. Do you know where she is?”
“She took the kids to school. I told you that earlier. Now, what’s going on?”
Janine stepped forward. “My name is Janine Kerrigan and I’m Layla’s boss. Can we step inside for a moment, Pixie? I don’t want the whole street hearing this.”
“Well, yeah, I suppose, but I need to call my daughter and make sure she’s okay.”
Pixie turned and we followed her inside.
Will was now at the French doors.
“Who the hell is he?” Pixie’s voice had raised a few octaves.
“He also works for me. Do you mind if I let him in? We need to conduct a search of the property.”
“Hang on a minute. You didn’t say anything about that. This is my daughter’s house and she won’t be pleased with people rifling through her things.”
I decided to be honest. “Listen, Pixie. I’m not going to bullshit you, but I believe Layla is responsible for the recent murders, you know, the ones on the news.”
“The trannie murders?” Her eyes widened with shock.
I didn’t have time to debate with her. “Yes, the trannie murders.”
“Don’t be so bloody stupid. She’s a cop—and a damn good one too.”
“You confirmed earlier your ex-husband’s van is in the garage, and, if I’m right, it’s the same one we spotted on CCTV after a couple of the murders.
She fell back onto the sofa. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t want to believe it either, but your daughter is killing innocent women.”
Janine stepped forward. “Do we have your permission to search the entire property?”
Pixie nodded, the wind clearly knocked out of her sails.
Just then, I heard a van pull up outside and assumed it was armed response.
“Will, let the guys in please. Then the door at the end of the hallway is the garage—check under the tarpaulins.”
“Got it, boss.” He looked pale. The shock at what his friend and colleague had done had clearly hit him hard. “I’ll get uniform to search upstairs and see if they find anything worthwhile.”
I turned back to Pixie. “Can you please try to call Layla to find out where she is? But don’t tell her we’re here. I don’t want her harming anybody else, or herself.”
“She’ll see our cars if she arrives home, then make a run for it,” Janine reminded me.
Pixie grabbed her phone from the coffee table and put it to her ear. “It’s ringing.”
“Not a word.” I held my finger up to my lips.
To my surprise, Layla answered.
“Hiya, love, I was just wondering what time you’d be back?” I could hear Layla’s voice, but not what she was saying. “No, not at all. I was just wondering where you are, is all.” More words I couldn’t make out. “Oh, you don’t want to do that love. You know it’ll only end in another row. Just come straight home and I’ll make you a nice cuppa.” Pixie listened, her face stricken with fear. “Okay, well if you’re sure, I’ll see you when you get back, Yeah, of course. Bye, love. Take care.” She hung up and turned to us. “She’s going to Max’s.”
“I need Max’s address, now.”
“All I know is he’s moved into a rental somewhere near Woolton, but the address is on the fridge. Hang on a minute.” Pixie rushed to the kitchen and returned with a post-it note. “122 Primrose Gardens. But she won’t hurt him, not my Layla. She wouldn’t.”
“I hope you’re right, believe me, I do. But I’m gonna need you to promise me you won’t breathe a word of this to Layla. If she gets wind we’re onto her, there’s no telling what she’ll do.”
“Boss,” Will shouted from the back of the house.
“Coming.”
A uniformed officer entered the living room. “Stay with Pixie please.”
Janine and I walked into the garage. The tarpaulin had been pulled off the Transit van. There was no doubt it was the same vehicle.
“What have you found, Will?” Janine asked.
“Look here,” he replied.
The back doors of the van were wide open.
We stepped closer.
“My God,” I said as Will held up voice distortion equipment. “She had it all planned.”
“That’s not all,” Will added. “There’re clothes in here, all black, covered in what looks like blood.”
“Layla, what have you done?” Janine shook her head, looking weary. “This is going to cause a stink when the papers find out.”
“Fuck the papers,” I snapped. “She’s one of us, and we have to make sure she doesn’t hurt anybody else.”
“Dylan, she’s a cold-blooded killer.”
“She’s still one of us. You know as well as I do, this isn’t her—she’s lost it.”
“This little lot says otherwise, boss,” Will said. “Looks like she knew exactly what she was doing and was one step ahead of us all the way—clever bitch.”
I was on the verge of tears. She was still my partner and I was going to be the one responsible for locking her up.
“Dylan, come on, we don’t have time for this,” Janine said, bringing me back to the moment. “We have to get over to Max’s before it’s too late.”
“I’ll stay here, boss. In case she comes back,” Will said.
Janine was on her phone. “Get a team round to 122 Primrose Gardens, Woolton, now, but don’t go in until I get there.”
Minutes later, Janine and I were back in the car and heading toward Max’s.
“I pray we’re not too late.” Surely she wouldn’t hurt the father of her children. I had to hold onto that because the alternative was too grim to contemplate.
“The Professional Standards Department will eat us alive,” Janine said. “We’ll all be hauled in for not spotting one of our own is capable of murder.”
“They can kiss my arse,” I replied. “How were we to know? She never gave us any reason to believe she was acting out of the ordinary. She was going through a divorce and was down abou
t it–which is understandable.” I pressed the phone icon on my hands-free kit and hit the redial button. Layla’s voicemail clicked in. “Layla, it’s Dylan. Call me urgently, please. I’m on my mobile.”
Forty-Two
After dropping the kids off at school, Layla pulled up in a layby and cried.
Everything had spun out of control. The things she’d done to those men were terrible, she knew that now. Having this time at home to ponder on her actions had made her realise that.
She knew it was only a matter of time before the team discovered she was the killer. Especially now she wasn’t there to tamper with their findings. There was also Darren Wilkes’ body to consider. It wouldn’t stay hidden forever, and she’d killed him with no protective clothing on.
She’d bumped into him as she left Kimberley’s house and chased him over the waste ground next door, and through to the mini woodland beyond. After overpowering the scumbag, she’d smashed his skull with a rock, and, unlike the other murders, it had felt so good. It had been at that moment reality dawned on her—Darren had deserved to die, the others hadn’t.
She’d had no choice but to leave his body where it was. Because there was an ANPR on the Transit van she’d decided to leave it in the garage at home but parked her car far enough away for it not to trigger any suspicion. She knew, without a doubt, that as soon as Darren’s body was found the game would be up for her.
The thought of being taken away from her kids tore her apart. She wasn’t a bad person, not really. She’d just made some bad choices. Doesn’t everybody at some point in their lives? She hadn’t been in her right mind.
The person she should have taken her hurt out on was Max. He was the one who had deserved every ounce of her venom, she could see that now, too. After his visit yesterday, when he told her he intended to fight her for shared custody, Layla knew what she had to do. There was no way she would allow that fucking freak to bring up her boys. No way!
Wiping her eyes, she checked her reflection in the rear-view mirror. She looked like a bag of shite, but maybe that would work in her favour. The doctor would have to take her seriously and grant her a sick-note. There was no point going back to work. Apart from the fact she wasn’t fit to tie her own shoelaces most days, she couldn’t continue being part of the team investigating the crimes she’d committed. Day after day, she’d been forced to listen to them slagging off the killer, but they didn’t know the motives and hadn’t gone through what she had—the humiliation, the self-doubt, having to watch her kids fall apart.
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