Soul to Take

by Clare Revell

  “I haven’t yet decided which I will use for you. It might be fun to watch you suffer, little by little, knowing what’s coming, being powerless to stop it.”

  She snorted. “Hah. As if I don’t already. You keep promising to kill me. How about you stop procrastinating and actually do it?”

  Farrell moved over towards her and grabbed her arm. She didn’t flinch as he yanked her upright and pushed her back onto the chair. Even the muttered insult under his breath didn’t bother her. For once she wasn’t scared and he didn’t like that. He tugged another chair over and sat beside her. “First we hear your confession. Then wash your feet as a form of baptism. Then we kill you.”

  She shuffled on the chair. “That’s the royal we, I assume. Sorry, but I don’t have anything to confess.”

  “Oh, but you do.” He held out the cup of red liquid again. “Drink.”

  “No thanks.”

  He sipped from the glass. “See, it’s not poison. That would be a waste.” He pushed it into her hand. “Drink.”

  “What is it?”

  “Red wine…for communion.”

  Isabel chuckled. “For an atheist, you do love your religious symbolism.”

  “Just shut up and drink it.”

  Isabel took the glass and sipped it. She scrunched her nose. It was like the communion wine in church, and she didn’t much care for that either.

  “Just drink it all and don’t make a fuss.”

  Isabel took a deep breath. “Do I get a last meal as well? Because if so I really fancy kebab and chips. One of those chicken ones the van outside my house does.”

  “Don’t you take anything seriously?” Farrell asked.

  She shook her head. “No. Life’s too short.”

  ~*~

  Zander arrived back at the nick to find DI Holmes sat at Isabel’s desk. “Guv, is everything OK?”

  DI Holmes nodded. “I guess so. I have uniform out searching for the house in the photo. The two girls from the department store and the one from the chemist are here looking at photos.”

  “And Chief Superintendent Clydesdale?” Zander asked.

  “My office with the door shut. That’s why I’m out here using Isabel’s desk.” He ran a hand over the top of it. “Actually used to be my desk when I started here. Did you get the necklaces?”

  Zander held up the bag, handing it to DI Holmes. “Also the account books. There is a large amount of money missing. And yes, it matches the amount paid for the towels and lingerie.”

  “Sarge, Guv, you got a minute?” Austin asked.

  Zander and DI Holmes crossed over to him.

  Austin glanced at the girl sat by his desk. “Show them which photo you picked out.”

  The girl pointed to the one of Farrell. “He bought the towels.”

  Tony nodded. “Same over here, Guv. He bought the lingerie.”

  Zander took a deep breath. “Thank you for coming in, ladies. I’ll show you out.” He led the girls into the hallway.

  As the door shut, one of the girls looked at him. “If you don’t mind me asking, who’s that man in the office?”

  “Which one?” Zander asked.

  “In uniform in the office at the back. He was there as well.” The girls looked at each other and nodded.

  “Yes,” the other one agreed.

  Zander pulled out his phone and showed them a photograph of Chief Superintendent Clydesdale. “This man? You’re sure?”

  “Yes. He came with the man who bought the towels.”

  “And the lingerie,” the other girl added.

  “Come with me,” Zander said. He quickly led them down the stairs and into interview room one. “Someone will be in shortly to take a statement.”

  He stood outside the door and rang DI Holmes. His heart pounded and his stomach rebelled against the coffee he’d drank at his desk an hour ago.

  “Holmes.”

  “Guv, I need you and DS Philips down at interview room one by the main entrance now.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t say over the phone. I just need you down here. Can you ask the lady from the chemist to glance into your office on her way out? Just run down here quick.”

  “On our way.”

  Three minutes later, DI Holmes showed the girl from the chemist into interview room two. Then he looked at Zander. “What’s going on? She just ID’d Chief Superintendent Clydesdale.”

  Zander put a finger over his lips. “Walls, ears. We need those three girls taken out of here and over to another station to be interviewed now. Before he realises what’s going on.”

  DI Holmes looked sideways at DS Philips. “Take them to Fleet Street. I want you and DS Raines to interview them. I’ll call her now and give her a heads up. Get her to meet you on your arrival.”

  Zander’s phone rang. He rolled his eyes. “DS Ellery.”

  “Zander, it’s Arend Van Houten. I have the DNA test result back. You said you needed it urgently.”

  “That was fast, even for quickly.” Zander’s heart thudded. It wouldn’t be good.

  “It’s easy when you already have both samples on record,” Arend said. “Chief Superintendent Clydesdale is not Isabel’s father.”

  18

  Shock flooded Zander. “Arend, I need to call you back. Give me two minutes.” He looked at DI Holmes. “You need to hear this, sir, but not in here.”

  DI Holmes nodded. He turned to the desk sergeant. “I need two uniform cars for a transfer on blue and twos. Now. The girls are in rooms one and two. DS Philips will be going with them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Zander headed outside. He shoved his headphones into the phone jack and put one in his right ear, making sure he had the one with the mic attached. When DI Holmes came out, he offered him the other one. Then he called Arend back. “It’s me again. Sorry about that. Walls, ears, and so on. Tell me again.”

  “Chief Superintendent Clydesdale is not Isabel’s father,” Arend said.

  “Are you sure?” Zander asked.

  “Yes. However, I did find a match on the database. He’s a familial match to Farrell Vixen.”

  Zander looked at DI Holmes, the shock he felt mirrored on his boss’s face. “Say that again? You have proof?”

  “Would I be telling you otherwise?”

  “Sorry. Can you email me a copy?”

  “That’s not secure,” DI Holmes said. “I’ll send Austin over to collect it.”

  “Did you hear that?” Zander asked.

  “I did,” Arend replied.

  “OK. And you have my personal email so send a copy there, please.”

  “Will do.”

  “Thanks.” Zander ended the call. “Both of them?” he asked quietly. “Explains a lot.”

  DS Painter ran across the car park. “Have you found Isabel yet?”

  “The Slayer has her,” Zander said. He showed him the photo. “That was about ninety minutes ago, so we’re down to four and a half hours.”

  “There is something you need to know,” DS Painter said. “Something I learned in Margate and from a contact…”

  “You, as well,” DI Holmes said. “Walk with me.” He crossed the car park, away from the building. “David, you go first.”

  “OK.” DS Painter cleared his throat. “Chief Superintendent Clydesdale is not Chief Superintendent Clydesdale. And yes, I have proof. The real Chief Superintendent Clydesdale vanished three years ago. This bloke merely resembles him.” He tapped the files under his arm. “I also spoke to Zander’s grandfather. He picked out both Farrell Vixen and Chief Superintendent Clydesdale from a series of photos, as the blokes who took Lexi and attacked him.”

  DI Holmes held up a hand. “Hold that thought.” He dialled his phone. “Austin, its DI Holmes. I need you to get over to the coroner’s office and pick a file up from Arend Van Houten in person. He’s expecting you and will only hand the file to you. Guard it with your life and keep eyes on it until you hand it to me. It’s urgent.” He hung up.

&n
bsp; Zander shoved his hands in his pockets, mind whirling. “OK. So Farrell Vixen is the Slayer. Chief Superintendent Clydesdale, or whoever he is, is involved. That explains how he set me up and leaked information. Isabel got suspicious, so by discrediting me, it casts doubt on her and they succeeded there as well, as none of you would listen to her. It also backs up what I learned in prison.”

  “And why you got transferred immediately after he visited you in prison,” DS Painter added.

  “Do we have an ID on him yet?”

  DS Painter shook his head. “Not yet. My contact in the Met is doing that. Well, she’s ex-Met actually. I believe you know her—DI Jenson.”

  DI Holmes smiled. “Yes, I know Millie well.”

  Zander rocked on his heel. “It also explains how they knew the eleventh commandment. And know it well enough to call it Isabel’s first.”

  DI Holmes nodded. “OK. Back upstairs, before we attract attention for chatting out here. We need to find that house. We’re running out of time.”

  Zander double timed it up the stairs and back to the squad room. He logged onto his computer, remembering to use his new password. “Surely they wouldn’t be stupid enough to use their own houses?” Before he could expand that thought, the desk phone rang. “DS Ellery.”

  “Good afternoon.” A Scottish accent boomed down the phone. “My name is DCI Craig Fraser and Ah’m calling from Perth CID. Could Ah speak to DI Holmes or DS Painter, please?”

  “I’m afraid they’re both out of the room right now. Can I help? I’m fully briefed on what DS Painter is working on.”

  “Hmmm. It’s verra sensitive information. Could yer ask him to give ma a call back?”

  “Will do.” Zander scribbled the name down, then glanced up. “Hang on, he’s just walked into the room.” He held out the phone. “For you. A DCI Fraser from Scotland.”

  “Thank you.” DS Painter took the phone. “Hello, sir, DS Painter here.”

  Zander turned back to the computer monitor. He typed in the address linked to Chief Superintendent Clydesdale that they had on the system. He squinted at the screen. Maybe… He tried Farrell Vixen. Bingo! A hit. He stood. “Got it.”

  DS Painter hung up. “Got what?”

  “It,” he said evasively as the DI’s office door opened. “Might go for a drive, the desk is boring me.” He closed the screen and logged off the computer.

  Chief Superintendent Clydesdale, or whoever he really was, crossed the room. “You look excited. Have you found something?”

  Zander shook his head. “Going to hit the streets, drive, and see what I can find.”

  “I’ll come with you.” The man seemed a little too eager. “I could give you directions.”

  Yeah, right. The wrong ones. Zander shook his head again. “With all due respect, Sir, you need to stay here.”

  “I’m her—”

  “If you are her father,” Zander interrupted angrily, “which I know for a fact you are not, but that’s beside the point, you have to stay here. You can’t be involved. Now, get out of my way and let me do my job.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  Zander caught sight of the DI smirking from the main doorway. “I mean get out of my way, sir.”

  The Chief Super spun around. “Nathaniel, will you let him talk to me like that?”

  “He has a point,” DI Holmes replied. “OK, everyone hit the streets. We have four hours to find her.”

  Zander hurried over to him. “I have an address. 7 Bearwood, Upper Tidmarsh. See you downstairs.”

  DI Holmes nodded. “Wait for me there. There’s just something I need to do first.”

  Zander glanced into the corridor to see DCI Fairweather from PSD, and DCI Britton standing there.

  DCI Fairweather moved over to DI Holmes. “Nate, are you sure about this?”

  DS Painter strode over with a printout in his hand. “Fresh in from Perth CID. My contact in the Met now works up there and she did some checking. He’s not who he claims to be. His real name is Ashton Vixen-Richards.”

  DCI Fairweather took the paper and then headed into the office. “Ashton Vixen-Richards?”

  The man in uniform turned and scowled.

  “Ashton Vixen-Richards, you’re under arrest on…” DCI Fairweather began to read him his rights.

  The man decked him and ran across the office.

  DI Holmes tackled him and knocked him to the floor. He pulled his hands behind his back. “On suspicion of kidnap, murder, and impersonating a police officer,” he continued.

  Zander turned and ran from the office, not wanting to waste another minute on the man who’d cost them so much. He set a personal best at running down the stairs and into the car park. He unlocked his car.

  “Zander.” DS Painter caught him up. “The Guv said to wait.”

  “Then you wait, I’m going to find Is, before it’s too late.”

  DS Painter took the keys. “Then I’m coming with, but I’m driving.”

  ~*~

  Isabel sighed. Farrell wasn’t giving up. Fine. He wanted her confession, she’d confess, but he wouldn’t like it. She eased her ankle slightly and rested it on her good leg. “OK, how do we do this? Do I have to kneel or face you or what?”

  He sat beside her, his leg brushing against hers. “Like this is fine.”

  She shifted on her chair. “OK.”

  “Stop repeating yourself.”

  “Sorry. Right, I’m so tempted to say OK but I won’t. I confess that I…”

  Farrell held up a hand to silence her. “You have to start with. ‘Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.”

  Isabel snorted. “You are not my father, so no. OK, I confess I have several failings, the main one is saying OK far too much. I hated school with a passion. I used to hand in the wrong books when I hadn’t done my homework. I cheat at word games. I don’t like butter, but I love baked beans and cheese mixed together.”

  He glowered. “I want a proper confession,” he snarled.

  “But these are my proper confessions. I hate football. I killed an ant when I trod on it accidently, but the ants’ nest I poured boiling water over, was quite deliberate. I’m afraid of you—Ohhhh!” She broke off as Farrell slapped her and turned her chair roughly to face him.

  “Why are you afraid of me?”

  She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. Her heart pounded. Through her mind she recited Psalm 23 over and over. She wasn’t alone. The Lord was right beside her. Whatever Farrell did, he couldn’t change that. “I’m afraid because I never know what you’ll do from one moment to the next. You blow hot and cold, nice and nasty. So, tell me, Farrell. What is my sin? What did I do?”

  “Other than leave me?” He let go of her arm. “You broke all of the commandments. Those other girls were just a warm up. I chose them for a reason. Their initials spelled out your name.” He laughed manically. “Your incident board spelled out your name for weeks and none of you worked it out.”

  Shock pushed her back in the chair. “What?” she managed.

  He smirked. “You really didn’t know? You were the one I wanted all along. Initially they spelled your name to show my love for you. Because I wanted to redeem your soul. But it’s too late now. I shall take your soul. They died because of you.”

  Ten names ran through Isabel’s mind. Iona, Sally, Ashlyn, Brit, Esther, Lexi, Yasmin, Orla, Rosa, Kacie. All dead and all because of her. She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry…”

  Farrell touched her arm. “It’s all right, Izzy. Tá admháil maith don anam . Confession is good for the soul. I’ll redeem it before I take it.”

  19

  Zander tapped his hands on his thighs as DS Painter drove across town. Every single traffic light was on red. Every other road junction conspired against them. “Oh, come on!” he groaned as yet another light went red. “We should have taken a marked car.”

  DS Painter glanced sideways at him. “And let him know we’re coming? Great idea. He might just kill her early.”

 
“He’ll kill her anyway,” Zander replied. “You know it, and I know it.”

  “Where’s your faith?”

  “Lacking,” he admitted. “I know none of this is God’s doing or fault, and He will take this whole evil mess and bring some good out of it, but a little help with the traffic right now wouldn’t go amiss.”

  DS Painter chuckled. “Maybe He’s keeping us from an accident or an idiot shooting those red lights I keep stopping at.” The car stalled. DS Painter restarted the engine just as a car shot past the junction in front of them. “See, just like that. If I hadn’t stalled he’d have hit us and then who’d save Isabel?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Come on, Zander. I know so.” DS Painter drove for another ten minutes, then turned left into Bearwood.

  “Number seven. It’s on a road junction.” He peered out the window. “That’s twenty-seven, so down a fair bit. Drive slowly though, so I can watch the house numbers. Then pass the house. I don’t want him to twig just yet.”

  Zander held his breath as the house numbers decreased. Twenty-one, fifteen, eleven. “Slow down a bit more. Nine. Seven. There it is. And a sedan like mine, bashed a little, with a broken back plate.” He twisted his head as they passed to read the front one and grabbed the radio. “Control this is Zulu Echo Seven Five. I need a PNC check. Reg number Romeo Golf Zero Three Hotel Golf Tango. Quick as you can.” He glanced at DS Painter. “Pull in around the corner. I don’t want him seeing us.”

  “Maybe we should have taken a traffic car. They can PNC check from the on-board computer.”

  “Nice.”

  The radio squawked. “Zulu Echo Seven Five, control. The car is registered to an Ashton Richards, 27 Nightingale Road. No flags.”

  “Thank you. Out.” Zander put the radio down. Grabbing his phone, he sent DI Homes a swift message. here. right place. He glanced sideways. “I’ll check it out. I can slip around the side, take a butcher’s.”

  DS Painter shook his head. “The Guv said to wait.”

  Zander’s phone beeped. He glanced at the screen.

  DI – wait.

  Not even bothering to open it, he slid the phone back into his pocket. Two seconds later he was out of the car. He walked quickly around the side of the house.