by Clare Revell
She tapped the report. “So you’re telling me that Zander’s finger prints are all over the envelope that was posted ten days after he was locked up?”
Arend frowned. “Come again?”
“The postmark was ten days after he was arrested. There is absolutely no way it could have been him.”
Arend shook his head. “No one told me that.”
She tossed the file to the desk. “Yeah, well, why would they? They all think it’s him. Did you test the gloves and sheet of paper?”
“Yes, I did. The report is in there, as well.”
“Thanks.” She flicked to it. A scrunched-up bit of paper hit her, and she looked across the room.
“Isabel?” Austin asked. “Do you have a stapler?”
“Yes, I do.” She didn’t move.
“Can I borrow it?”
“Yes.” Isabel opened the drawer and pulled the stapler out. She froze and gazed in the drawer at the contents. Could it really be that simple? The evidence had fingerprints but no DNA. Just like the blood and other touch traces. She stood, and walked around to Zander’s desk. She tugged open the drawer.
“Isabel what are you doing?” DI Holmes asked.
“I’m looking for…” Isabel pulled out a packet of A5 sized envelopes. It was originally a packet of twenty with only one left. “I need an evidence bag.”
DI Holmes passed her one.
Isabel slid the envelope inside. “We give each other stuff all the time. If these ones are police issue it’s why we can’t trace them elsewhere. Therefore, his prints would be on them because he gave them to someone.”
Arend took it. “I’ll do it as fast as I can.”
“Thank you.” Isabel went back to the computer. She opened the folder of paintings. “OK. Painting Ten is called The Lady in Green. The description says she always wants what she can’t have and what someone else has.” She tilted her head. The dress looked like one Isabel had owned. It had to be pure coincidence. It wasn’t as if it were a designer dress. She’d picked it up from the Saturday market for a fiver. So there would be loads around.
Isabel opened the search engine to find the location of the photo. She found plenty of parks, fields and farms, but nowhere matched the photo. “This is hopeless.”
“We’ll find it,” DS Painter told her.
“It won’t be in time.” Isabel groaned. “That card was posted eleven days ago now. There is normally a two day turn around, if that. Sometimes, slightly less.”
“Isabel, take a deep breath. Assuming you’re right, and it’s not Zander…”
“It’s not, and I am,” she interrupted glaring at him.
DS Painter waved a hand. “Assuming that, whoever it is would be close enough to set it up. Thus they would have to know you were suspended and not here to check your mail. Right?”
“Yes.” Isabel shoved her chair back and made three trips to the briefing room, tugging an incident board back with her each time. This needed to be where they could see it.
“What are you doing?” DI Holmes asked.
“This case is not over, sir. This isn’t a copycat, it’s the Slayer.”
“My office. Now.”
Isabel rolled her eyes but followed him.
DI Holmes shut the door. “I had a call from the fraud squad.”
Her stomach pitted. “Oh?” Her voice came out more like a whimper. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Oh?”
Her boss nodded. “I also got the CCTV footage from the bank. You, or someone claiming to be you, closed your bank account over a week ago.”
Shock rippled through her and she gripped the edge of the desk for support. “Can I see?”
DI Holmes turned the monitor around so she could see.
Isabel shook her head. “That’s not me. Why would I close the account and then try to use it?” She shoved her hand through her incredibly short hair, surprised when her hair just ended. She still wasn’t used to it, maybe she never would be.
“Think for a moment. Where were you last Wednesday?” He pulled across a sheet of paper. “And have a seat before you fall.”
She sank gratefully into the chair. Wednesday. “I accompanied Zander’s grandfather on the church seniors outing. I went as his carer. We spent the day in Kew Gardens. The coach left the church at ten and we got back around four. Pastor Jack was there. He took a register. Counted us all on and counted us all off. You can check if you want.”
He nodded. “I will.” He picked up the phone and dialled. “Hi, Jack, it’s Nate. Just a quick question about the seniors outing last week. Can you tell me if Isabel York and Francis McNally were there?”
Isabel tuned him out. Why did no one believe her or take her concerns over Zander’s guilt seriously? She stood and walked over to the window. Gazing out over the town, she sighed. The Slayer was out there somewhere, another girl was going to die, and she was the only person who cared. At least that’s the way it seemed.
“Isabel?”
She turned. “Guv.”
“Pastor Jack confirms you were there. Do you know who that woman is? She had all the ID she needed to take out the money and close your account.”
She shook her head, taking another look at the CCTV image on the screen. “She does look familiar, but no.” She swallowed hard. Throwing up on the boss’s floor wouldn’t be a good thing. “Why would someone do this? If they could access my bank account then…” She broke off, the thought almost too horrid to voice.
“Go on,” DI Holmes prompted. “Talk to me.”
“Maybe they didn’t stop there.” Isabel’s voice was barely above a whisper. “They could have done anything with my ID.”
“The Fraud Squad are dealing with it as a matter of urgency. We can get you replacement ID for everything.”
“DVLA included?”
He nodded. “Just need to send them an up to date photo. I can send a copy of the one you had taken here.”
She sank into the chair and wrapped her arms around her middle in a bid to ease her quaking stomach. “Who could hate me that much?” she wondered out loud.
“It’s possible the bank card was cloned, and they got the details that way. When was the last time you used it?”
Isabel thought for a moment. “I renewed my bus ticket at the shop in town last week. I don’t shop online much. I prefer to use cash. I don’t even internet bank.” She sucked on her bottom lip. “My place was broken into a while back. Perhaps they copied the details then. I don’t know.”
“That’s possible.” DI Holmes sat opposite her, leaning his elbows on the desk. “There’s something else you need to know. But this doesn’t leave this room. Is that understood?”
Her mind whirled. “Yes, Guv. Cross my heart and hope to die and all that. What have I done?”
“It’s not you,” came the quiet reply. “It’s Zander.”
~*~
Zander took an experimental deep breath, then looked at the cute ED doctor—the same one he’d seen the other day when he was here. For the first time in at least three days, breathing no longer hurt…well, not as much as it had done. “That’s better, thank you.” He glanced at Adam who hadn’t left his side since they’d left Broadmoor.
OK, he was still in custody, but at least not locked up in the loony bin. He was on his way back to HMP Headley Cross.
Adam nodded. “Good.”
Dr. Sutton checked her clipboard. “The brace is usually used for broken backs not ribs, but if you’re insisting on doing this then you need it. I really would rather we kept you in here.”
Zander flicked his gaze sideways at the prison guard. “I know, doc, but I don’t really have a choice in the matter.”
“Hey, I did my best, mate,” Adam told him.
“Yes, and I’m grateful.”
Dr. Sutton nodded. “Well, the brace has to stay on for two weeks.”
“Really?” the prison guard asked.
“Unless you want him back in here and on bed rest, yes.” Dr. Sutton
glared at the man irately. “I’ll be contacting the prison doctor and telling him the same thing.” She turned back to Zander. “Nothing stronger than paracetamol. You need to keep on top of this. If the mild meds aren’t helping you need to come back.”
“Sounds good to me, doc.” Zander flexed his shoulders and then put his sweatshirt on over the brace. It wasn’t any more uncomfortable than a stab vest. “Do I sleep in it?”
“You do. And no showers for two weeks either. You’ll have to make do with strip washes in your cell.”
Zander tried to contain his pleasure. “He won’t like that,” he said, angling his head at the prison guard.
“Tough.” Dr. Sutton winked at him. “Doctor’s orders. Consider that back brace a plaster cast. You can’t get it wet or remove it until I see you again in two weeks.”
“Thank you.” He ran his hands over his chest. It wasn’t as good as a Kevlar vest, but it’d help. And no showers would be safer.
“Maybe I should make it a plaster cast…”
“This’ll be fine, Doc, thanks. I promise I won’t take it off.”
“We need to go.” The guard moved to Zander’s side and snapped the other half of the metal handcuff to Zander’s wrist.
Zander was tempted to make a snarky comment, like ‘I didn’t know you cared’, or ‘maybe we just hold hands’, but didn’t think the guard would get the humour. Isabel would. Oh, how he missed her and her ability to make light of any and every situation. Instead he glanced over at Adam. “Can you let Is know for me? She’ll be worried.”
Adam nodded. “Of course, and yes, she is. Though frantic is more the word I’d use to describe her.” He grinned. “She’s quite the blonde bombshell.”
Zander frowned. “Blonde?” Isabel had long, dark wavy hair that came past her shoulders.
Adam winked. “She took your advice and went to see Kyle. Her hair is now shorter than mine, and that’s saying something.”
He allowed himself a slight smile. She’d done it then. Listened to him. Maybe she’d be safer now. “Is she all right?”
“Not exactly. I’ll get her to come and visit you later. Hopefully, today.”
Zander shook his head. “They won’t allow it.”
“Yes, they will.” Adam sounded forceful. “I’ll see to it. Bring her myself and stay in the room if needed.”
“Are we clear to leave, Dr. Sutton?” the guard asked.
Dr. Sutton nodded. “Yes. I will be calling the prison doctor later to ensure my orders are carried out.”
Zander walked from the department between Adam and the guard. The prison van was parked in the short stay car park. Zander climbed inside, watching Adam until the door closed. He sighed.
“Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time,” the guard told him.
Zander rolled his eyes. “You do know he’s still out there, right? And he’s about to kill again?”
The guard shook his head.
“You’ll see.” Zander leaned back against the wall as the van began to move.
They were running out of time.
~*~
Isabel glared at the postcard on her desk. Where was it? It had to be somewhere but everything she’d tried so far had revealed nothing. Every second that passed was a second less to catch the killer. On a hunch she opened the search engine and typed cows in Headley Cross into the page.
Behind her DS Painter laughed. “Seriously? Cows in Headley Cross?”
She shrugged. “Well, you never know. It is a cow and it is in Headley Cross, at least if the Slayer is running true to form. There can’t be that many farms with cows locally.” She grinned. “There are four herds of cattle.” She tossed a box of drawing pins at him. “Can you do the honours?”
“Sure.”
“OK.” Isabel waited until he reached the map. “We have Aaron Field’s farm, Maranatha. Old MacDonald’s farm, which is a working farm, but kids can visit and pet animals and ride tractors and so on. They even have a play barn. You should take your nephew at some point.”
DS Painter laughed. “He’s not even two yet, but he does like animals. Where next?”
“Colebrook Pastures. And finally, Granger’s Dairy. Ohhh.” She grinned. “They sell their own ice-cream and have a shop and restaurant on site. We’ll have to go and visit.”
“Work outing once this is over,” DS Painter promised.
“Why wait?” Austin wandered over from his desk. “I mean, it’s on the list of places to check, right? We could do a working lunch. Check it out, eat the ice-cream, don’t tell the boss.”
“Sounds good to me. Are we asking everyone?” Isabel reached down to get her bag from the drawer. “As it’s almost lunchtime.”
“Nope.” Austin grinned. “Just Will, me, you, and the Sarge here, as it was his idea and he’s your partner at the minute. We’ll head over there now on the pretext of checking it out against the postcard.”
“And have ice-cream whilst we’re there.”
“Of course. It’d be rude not to.” Austin laughed.
DS Painter shook his head. “No wonder the Guv is going grey. C’mon, I’ll drive. We can check out all four places, not just the one.”
“Shotgun the front seat,” Isabel said quickly.
Austin pulled a face. “I wanted to do that. But fine, so long as we start at the ice-cream place.”
Isabel looked at the map. “We do that one, then the Old MacDonald’s Farm Park, then Colebrook Pastures. Maranatha Farm is too far.”
“Really?” DS Painter raised an eyebrow.
“Honestly most of them are. The Slayer sticks to a small radius.” She squinted at the map. It was more like a very small radius. If she were looking at this right, all the victims had been found within two and a half miles of her old house. But she wasn’t voicing that idea and have everyone laugh at her. “If you want my opinion, the only place we need to check is Colebrook Pastures.”
DS Painter cocked his head. “Technically, you’re off the case.”
Isabel scowled and bristled. “And who just told you where to look? Fine, ignore what I say. You lot go for ice-cream, and I’ll take the bus and actually do some work.” She paused. “Remind me again who the Slayer writes to?”
“I’m beginning to think he loves you. Or at least has a massive crush on you.” Austin grabbed his jacket. “You don’t look like the victims now. Or like that woman in the Lost Love painting.”
“Hah!” she snorted. “The woman in the painting was me, or have you forgotten that?” She shoved her bag on her shoulder twice, as the first time it slid down her arm. “Let’s go before the Guv decides he wants to come too.”
They headed to the door and were almost clear, before a voice came from the office at the back of the squad room. “And where do you all think you’re going?”
“Check out a lead, Guv,” Austin answered.
“And it takes four of you?”
“Isabel thinks she knows where the cows are and needs backup in case, they turn out to be bulls.”
“Really?” DI Holmes didn’t sound, or look, convinced.
“Seriously…Maranatha Farm, Colebrook Pastures, Granger’s Dairy, and Old MacDonald’s Farm. The only four places around here with cows.”
DS Painter nodded. “I’ll make sure they behave, Guv.”
“Us, or the bulls?” Isabel asked.
DI Holmes laughed. “Go.”
Isabel headed into the corridor. “So where first?”
“Your hunch,” DS Painter said. “Then lunch, then the other two places.”
Austin’s stomach growled. “How about lunch first, then the other places. I know it’s barely midday, but I’m hungry. Colebrook is closest to here, so do it last.”
Unsurprisingly, the others agreed with him.
Isabel stayed silent. This was just wasting more time they didn’t have. But right now they were humouring her and if she pushed it, they’d shut her out of the investigation completely.
~*~
Ha
ving been to the three other farms, and stopped for the ice-cream lunch, it was almost two o’clock before DS Painter parked at the airfield museum.
Isabel jumped out of the car, not happy about the wasted time. The other three places had been wrong, just as she knew they would be. She glanced around. “I’ve never been here.”
DS Painter pointed to the plane parked in front of the main building. “That’s the plane the Queen flew to Kenya on in 1952. Well, technically she flew out as a Princess and came back as a Queen. The museum itself is well worth a visit. During the war this whole area was one of the largest and most important RAF bases in the country. Now it’s a housing estate. Shame, really.”
Isabel tuned him and the other blokes out as they started talking planes. She began to walk along the path. Tall, waist-high grass grew on either side of the gravelled walkway. Traffic roared somewhere in front of her. She tugged out her phone and brought up the photo she’d taken of the postcard.
It depicted cows, a wooden gate, tall trees, and a metal railing as if there were a stream. The path veered to the left and she kept walking. The road appeared in front of her. Was that the main dual carriageway? It would explain the amount of traffic.
The path kept going left. A metal railing loomed ahead, slightly to one side. Running water trickled over something. She glanced over the railing. There was a steep embankment and a brook. She looked forwards. Trees and a wooden fence. Isabel glanced over her shoulder. “Sarge!”
She ran, wanting to see if she were right and yet, at the same time, hoping she wasn’t. She stopped suddenly. There it was. Clambering on the bars of the fence she peered over the edge, checking both directions, her heart in her mouth.
DS Painter arrived at her side. “Well?”
“It’s the right place. But she’s not here. We’re not too late.”
He pulled out his phone and dialled quickly. “Guv, we found it. Colebrook Pastures. Right next to the dual carriageway.”
~*~
Zander leaned against the pillows on the cot. At least he was in the infirmary and back in HMP Headley Cross. Where he should be. He needed to find out who’d ordered the transfer.
One of the other inmates mopped the floor across the foot of the cot. “Yer back, then.” It was a statement not a question.
