Soul to Take

by Clare Revell

  “Such as?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Umm, cars parked where they shouldn’t be. Meter readers, cold callers, window salesmen, that kind of thing.”

  Gramps frowned. “Some phone engineer came this morning. Said he needed to check the landline. I told him there was nothing wrong with it, but he had all the correct ID. So I let him in.”

  Isabel put her fork down, alarm bells ringing in her head. “Which company?”

  “The phone one. He checked it and said the phone plug was faulty and a fire risk. He put in a new one with a dedicated thingy for Zander’s computer.” He pointed to behind the computer.

  Isabel set her plate to one side and crawled under the desk to look. The phone jack now had a router point which the modem was plugged into. But to her it didn’t seem kosher. There was no company name on the box. Normally she’d call the Guv, but she didn’t want to do that. Not in light of Zander’s concerns.

  “Is everything all right down there, Girlie?”

  “Umm. It looks a little loose. I might unplug it for now. It’s not like you or I use the computer anyway. I’ll give them a call and see if they can come back and tighten it.”

  “But with no phone,” Gramps began.

  Isabel smiled brightly. “We can pretend it’s the nineteen fifties and use the call box over the road.” She sat back on the couch and finished her meal. In reality she’d used her mobile, but she wasn’t saying so out loud. Then she took the plates to the kitchen. “Just going to make a call. Won’t be long.”

  She slipped out of the house and onto the street. Heading over to the call box she closed the door and pulled out her mobile. She called Adam.

  “Hey, Isabel. What’s up?”

  She explained quickly. “It’s probably nothing, but we didn’t ask for anyone to check the phone and there is no one at work I can trust right now. I’m not even using the work phone to call you. This is my personal one. I copied the number over.”

  “I know someone you can trust. A chap from church called Patrick. I’ll give him a call. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Thank you.” She hung up and headed back into the house.

  Twenty-minutes later the doorbell rang. A tall familiar-looking man in overalls stood there. “I’m Patrick, from the phone company. I understand there’s a problem with your phone line.” He held out a card.

  Isabel took it. The card read, be careful what you say in case the house is bugged.

  Isabel nodded. “Someone came this afternoon and fitted a new phone box to the wall by the computer, but it’s loose. I unplugged the phone and router for now as it’s a fire hazard.”

  “Of course. Show me where it is?”

  Isabel led him into the lounge. “It’s down under the desk. Gramps, this is someone from the phone company to tighten the box.”

  Patrick nodded to him. “Hello.” He lay on the floor and took a screwdriver from his tool kit. He fiddled with the box for a few minutes. “There you go, ma’am. All done. Do you want the router and phone line plugged back in?”

  She looked at him and he nodded slightly. “Well, maybe just the phone. The computer is my boyfriend’s and he’s away on business right now. He doesn’t like anyone else using it.”

  “What about your Wi-Fi?”

  “I don’t use the Internet,” she said. “So it can stay unplugged.”

  Patrick nodded. He plugged the phone in and rose.

  Isabel saw him out. She stood on the doorstep with the door pulled to behind her. “Well?”

  “You were right to be concerned,” Patrick said quietly. “Just be very careful what you say as you’re infected. If I removed it, it’d alert whoever placed it there. But it was such a shoddy job, me coming to reattach the box to the wall won’t arouse any suspicions.”

  “You hope. Thank you for coming.” She pulled out her phone. “And this bloke has been parked outside all day.”

  He glanced at it. “Thanks. If you need anything, give Adam a call.”

  She nodded and went back inside, locking the door behind her. She noticed the car was back across the street. She sucked in a deep breath. All normal stuff, she told herself. They were bugging the house, watching the house, all in a day’s work. Right? Who was she trying to kid?

  She headed into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Gramps, being a creature of habit, would want a cup of tea within the next ten minutes. She had to keep things normal, not say anything someone would want to hear.

  Isabel walked quickly into the lounge. “So, Gramps, fancy a game of cribbage?”

  “Now you’re talking, Girlie. My turn to win tonight.”

  She snorted. “In your dreams, perhaps. Get it set up and I’ll make the tea. No cheating this time.”

  “As if I would.”

  She went back to the kitchen, pausing to tug the curtain over the front door closed. She shivered, as if someone had just walked over her grave. Something bad was about to happen. And she was powerless to stop it.

  8

  The guard scowled. “Make it quick.”

  Zander resisted the urge to shoot him a sarcastic look. “When don’t I?” he muttered. He picked up the pay phone and shoved his phone card into the slot. He dialled Isabel’s personal mobile, hoping she would answer it. He was about to give up when the call finally answered.

  “Isabel York’s phone.” DI Holmes’ clipped tone was unmistakable.

  “Hey, Uncle Gee.” Zander pushed aside the worry that the Guv had Isabel’s personal mobile and forced himself to sound cheerful. “It’s Zander. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Where are you?”

  “Back where I belong,” he said non-committedly. “The doc gave me a brace to help with the breathing. It’s like a cast, so I can’t take it off or shower for a couple of weeks or so. Is Isabel there?”

  “Yes, she’s just got in. Daft girl went off and left her phone lying around.”

  “Good job you don’t know her passcode,” Zander said wryly.

  There was a rustling. “It’s Zander, for you.”

  “Hey, you.” Isabel’s voice sounded strained, as if she were forcing the gaiety.

  “Hi, honey. I miss you like crazy. Are you all right? You sound stressed.” Concern flooded him, and he once more wished this were over and he could protect her properly.

  “I’m fine. There’s a small problem with the landline at your place. But a friend of Adam’s from church came over last night to sort it. The box was loose, and I was worried it was a fire hazard.”

  Zander’s mind whirled. The phone had been fine before he was arrested. “What happened?”

  “Gramps said the phone company came to test the line and replaced the box. You have a dedicated modem socket now, but you know how I feel about the Internet, so your router isn’t plugged in at all.”

  “But you’re all right?”

  “We’re fine. Hold on—my desk phone is ringing.” Her voice was muffled for a moment. “Zander, I have to go.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s been another one.” The line went dead.

  Zander stared at the phone. Another one? Another one what? Surely the Slayer hadn’t struck again?

  “She hung up on you?” the guard asked. “Come on, times up.”

  Zander replaced the phone. “Something’s wrong at home. My girlfriend, she—”

  “Tell it to the judge,” the guard interrupted. “One phone call, sweetheart. That was it.”

  Zander trudged back to the infirmary. He perched on the edge of the bed, feeling powerless. However, if this was the Slayer, if that was what Isabel meant, then they’d have to release him. He glanced at the medic. “Is there any chance I can borrow your phone? Or could you send a message for me?”

  “You know the rules.”

  He groaned. “Yes, but I need to speak with my lawyer, not my girlfriend.”

  The medic stared at him. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Zander nodded. “Thanks. Just get a message to him. A
sk him to call or visit ASAP. But he also needs to contact Isabel first. There is something really wrong at home.”

  ~*~

  Isabel climbed out of DS Painter’s car as he parked by the airfield museum. Unlike yesterday, when they’d been the only car, today it was swarming with marked cars and vans. A news crew was also setting up. “I thought this place was being watched,” she muttered.

  “So did I,” DS Painter replied.

  Isabel made her way down the path, the same way as the day before, only this time the rock in her stomach settled further. At the end this time, weren’t just cows, but a body. Four uniformed officers stood guard. Isabel pulled out her ID. “DC York.” She ducked under the crime scene tape, DS Painter right behind her.

  “Isabel, we need to wait,” he began.

  “I know what to do and what to look for. This isn’t my first Slayer murder!” She didn’t care if she’d just bitten off the head of a senior officer. She was tired of being treated like dirt and being told this was no longer her case. She was working it, end of story.

  DS Painter held up his hands. “OK. Who rattled your cage?”

  “Well, if everyone had listened to me three weeks ago, we wouldn’t be here now.” Isabel pulled on a pair of gloves and headed over to where victim number ten knelt as if in prayer.

  Her long, black hair cascaded down her back over the white towelling dress. Her bare feet were clean, her hands, knees, and ankles were bound with grey duct tape. A small red purse lay by her side.

  “There should be a painting,” Isabel turned around to look.

  DS Painter stood there.

  She rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you helping?”

  “You seem to be managing perfectly well. I don’t want to get in your way.”

  Isabel shook her head and turned back to her search. She didn’t want to touch or disturb the body just yet. Even if she did want to see if the word guilty was written on the girl’s forehead.

  Arend Van Houten arrived. “Morning, Isabel. I thought we’d seen the last of these.”

  “You and everyone else,” she muttered.

  “Just ignore her,” DS Painter said. “She’s in a foul mood this morning.”

  Isabel resisted the urge to say something rude in response. Instead she sucked in what should be a deep, calming breath, but wasn’t. “Perhaps you should try walking a mile in my shoes, Sarge, before you make rash judgements. I’m not sure who’s on my side and who I can trust anymore.” Her voice wobbled.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Forget it.” She turned her back on the two men, focusing her search on the bushes to the victim’s right. “The painting’s over here.” She picked it up. “The eyes are visible, no face this time.”

  She peered closer. What was that? For a moment she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “There…there are two pairs of eyes.”

  DS Painter moved to her side, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. “Are you sure?”

  “Count them yourself.” She handed him the painting and moved back to the body. She picked up the small red purse and opened it. She pulled out the driving licence and closed her eyes in despair. No. This should never have happened.

  DI Holmes arrived. “What have we got?”

  Isabel spun around, fuming. “Kacie Ingalls. Just as I said yesterday, only no one was listening to me. You weren’t even prepared to pay attention. You took Austin’s suggestion and went with it. My opinion, as always, was ignored.”

  “It wouldn’t have made any difference.”

  “Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?” The words were out before she could stop them.

  “Excuse me?” DI Holmes narrowed his eyes.

  She ignored the warning signs. “Zander wasn’t the only cop missing at the time of the murders. You were responsible for the stake out here and at the church and both have failed spectacularly.”

  DI Holmes scowled. “Get back to the station.”

  “No!”

  “DC York. I gave you an order.”

  She shook her head. “If you tell me one more time that I’m off this case, and that Zander is the Slayer, then you can take your advice and shove—”

  “DC York! I don’t care why you’re saying this, but I gave you an order!” DI Holmes roared.

  Isabel shut up.

  “Get yourself over to my car and wait there.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, returning his scowl with interest. There was no way he was pushing her off this case. Not now, not ever.

  “Now!” he repeated.

  Biting her tongue, Isabel pulled off the gloves and shoved them into the plastic bin someone had set up. She stomped off, not caring who noticed. She didn’t remember the last time she’d lost her temper, and every nerve she possessed was at boiling point. By the time she reached the Guv’s car, common sense prevailed, and she didn’t storm to the bus stop.

  Instead she leaned against it, arms folded, glowering at the Guv as he approached.

  He unlocked the car. “Get in.”

  She did so and slammed the car door.

  DI Holmes got in the other side and turned to face her. “I don’t know what has got into you today but get over it. You know how this works. Even if we had followed up on Kacie yesterday, it wouldn’t have helped.”

  “We did,” she muttered.

  “Pardon?”

  “I said we did. DS Painter and I went to the fire station yesterday afternoon. She was last seen on Monday when she finished early. She was a no show for the night shifts on Tuesday and Wednesday. Red watch are due back on Tuesday morning at nine, but they should all be around, aside from Callum Rennin, the watch manager, who’s in Lanzarote. The report is on your desk. I put it there first thing.”

  “Good. So what’s wrong? And don’t say nothing. David said you’ve been making snide comments all morning. He also said you mentioned not being able to trust anyone in the squad now.”

  She hissed a long breath. And they wondered why she didn’t trust anyone. Well, not like she had a choice in the matter. “Someone pretending to be from the phone company bugged the house yesterday. I called Adam, and someone he knew came to look at it.”

  “Why not call me?”

  Isabel looked down at her hands, refusing to answer.

  “I said, why not call me?” her boss repeated, his voice quieter now.

  “Zander knows someone in jail who gave him part of some information. The informant said it’s a cop, a high up cop. Or a high up cop is involved somehow. He mentioned you by name. That bloke is now dead.” She shrugged. “And I’m left not knowing who I can trust.”

  “Isabel,” DI Holmes said softly, “I can assure you, I’m not the Slayer. And you can trust me, I promise. I’d like you and David to go and do the notifications.”

  “Zander isn’t safe anymore.”

  “Leave Zander to me.” He opened his door. “I’ll send David up. Wait by the car.”

  “Sir.” Isabel exited the vehicle and crossed to where they’d parked when they arrived. What do I do, Lord? Who other than You can I trust?

  Her phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Isabel, it’s Adam West. I had a message from Zander asking me to check in on you and make sure you’re all right. He’s really worried. Is everything OK?”

  “No,” she said quietly. “Everything is really messed up. We won’t know until after the post mortem as to whether this is a copycat, but I don’t think it is. Our missing woman has turned up exactly where I expected her to, despite the police guard last night.”

  “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Get Zander out,” she said. “They can’t pin this one on him, and if it is the Slayer, then I’m right and Zander is innocent. Better go, the Sarge is here and we have to go do the notifications.” She ended the call.

  DS Painter nodded to her. “Let’s go. The post mortem is at two. I said we’d both be there.” He winked. “There’s chocolate in the glove box. It might help.
”

  “Thank you. And I’m sorry…it’s just…”

  “I know. We’re all feeling it today. Just need to try and be a little more professional. At least, in public.” He grinned. “But I have never heard anyone speak to the Guv like that and live to tell the tale. You’ll go down in history for that one.”

  She got in the car. “Guess I owe him an apology.” But that one would have to wait until later.

  ~*~

  Isabel sat in the fire station with DS Painter.

  Across the desk, SO Wilson sat in silence, his eyes glistening, shock etched on his face.

  “I’m really sorry for your loss,” Isabel said softly. “We tried her home address, but there was no one there. We need to get hold of her parents.”

  “She recently transferred down from Scotland. She lives alone. Her parents still live there.” He stood and went over to the filing cabinet. “I’ll find their address.”

  “Thank you.”

  “How did she die?”

  Isabel looked at her partner. “It’ll be on the news,” she mouthed.

  “We won’t know for sure until after the autopsy,” DS Painter said.

  “But it was murder?” SO Wilson turned with a file in his hand.

  “It looks like the Slayer,” Isabel said. “But we won’t know for sure until later. We’re not releasing her name to the media until next of kin have been informed.” She took the file. “We’ll need to speak to the entire watch on Tuesday when they come in. I’ll go and ring the local Scottish police and get them to visit her parents.” Isabel stepped into the hallway and opened the file. Her heart sank. Tannoch. Great. She pulled out her phone. At least she knew who she should speak to there.

  The call answered on the second ring. “Tannoch Police Station.”

  “Hello. This is DC York from Thames Valley CID. I need to speak with DI Nemec, please.”

  A few seconds later the American voice she knew came on the line. “Hello, Isabel. How are you?”

  “Not great, but this isn’t a social call.”

  “I guessed as much. How can I help?”