Echoes of Guilt

by Rob Sinclair

  He moved over to Dani and held the two sheets out for her, before drawing one over the other to give a faint superimposition.

  ‘If you look at the lines, it’s possible this is the same finger,’ he said. ‘A thumb, more precisely, given the apparent shape, if you carry on the pattern.’

  ‘So we can link trace evidence at Clara’s home directly to Jane Doe?’ Easton said.

  ‘It’s certainly a possibility. And there are clothing fibres in the van which are a very close match to those found at Clara’s home,’ Tariq said.

  Everyone went silent for a few moments, Dani trying to think over the revelation. It was a huge finding, one which provided further clear evidence that the two men who had been transporting Jane Doe’s body had also been in Clara Dunne’s home.

  But had those men actually killed Jane Doe? And Clara?

  Dani looked over to the body again, and as much as she didn’t want to, she tried to imagine the woman’s final moments.

  ‘Nothing was found in the house in Wednesbury, though?’ Dani said.

  ‘No trace of Jane Doe,’ Tariq said. ‘The room you highlighted there to me had been sanitised really quite significantly. There was nothing of anything in there.’

  Dani nodded. ‘OK. So here’s what I think happened,’ she said. ‘We’ve already hypothesised that our victim was likely a sex worker. Probably against her will. And there would have been others in that house, too, who we still need to find. For whatever reason, Jane Doe was attacked. Perhaps in a violent encounter with a punter. She died at his hands.’ She looked to Ledford. ‘Blunt force trauma or strangulation?’

  He raised an eyebrow, as if unsure how she’d known. ‘She suffered both, as well as some horrible cuts to her body from a knife of some sort, but asphyxiation was the cause of death.’

  He seemed a little disappointed that Dani had determined that without him even getting a chance to go through his PM findings.

  ‘The two men in the van were called to collect the body, and dispose of it,’ Dani said. ‘This can’t be the first time something like this has happened. The men are professionals, of a sort. Have you run that partial? The superimposed version?’

  ‘Of course,’ Tariq said. He reached for another piece of paper. ‘And there is a certain amount of guesswork that goes into this, as I’m sure you can appreciate, not just in terms of the orientation of the two fragments, but which finger, on which hand they belong to.’

  ‘Just tell me. Have you got a match?’

  ‘But that’s the thing. We have, potentially. But we have more than one possibility. Four people, in the database, to be precise, who the amalgamated print could belong to. And of course, it could even belong to someone who isn’t on record.’

  He held the paper out for Dani. She took it and stared down at the basic profiles for each of the four. Name, date of birth, last known address. Her first reaction was disappointment. No Victor Nistor. No Alex Stelea. No name at all that she recognised. But then on second glance her eyes stopped on one of the names. She didn’t know it, but it was the only one that clearly wasn’t anglicised. Silviu Grigore.

  She looked to Easton.

  ‘We need to find this guy. Now.’

  Chapter 41

  Dani wasn’t taking any chances. Not this time. Luckily both McNair and Fairclough – from Organised Crime– had agreed. The two men who’d been found with Jane Doe’s body had already escaped the police once, had done so through the use of force and violence, and Dani was determined to make sure they wouldn’t get such a chance again. The operation had therefore taken a couple of hours longer to organise than it would otherwise have done, but they were now ready to go with a team that included half a dozen Tactical Response officers with their heavy duty semi-automatic assault weapons. At least that’s what Dani thought the guns were – she had zero experience of firearms herself.

  Those six armed officers were in the back of a van a few cars away from Dani’s, all out of sight from the target location – the last known address of Silviu Grigore – on the next street along. At least for now. A plethora of uniforms were in other vehicles dotted around the vicinity. Just in case. Now they were assembled, they needed to act quickly, before suspicions were aroused. They’d had eyes on the terraced property in Willenhall, on the outskirts of Walsall, for the last thirty minutes, though had seen no one come and go and they had no idea how many people were inside.

  Time to find out.

  ‘OK, let’s get this moving,’ Dani said into her radio.

  Easton started the car and they followed the unmarked van with the armed officers as it took the right turn up ahead, onto the similarly quiet residential street.

  ‘Are you sure this is how you want to play it?’ Easton asked her.

  She was damn sure. ‘I’m not changing my mind now.’

  The street had double yellow lines all down one side, the opposite side was crammed with parked cars. The van pulled over onto the double yellows three houses away from number 51. Easton carried on past it, parking two houses up on the other side.

  ‘Everyone in position?’ Dani said.

  She got a series of affirmatives, including from the van with four uniforms that was now stationed along the back alley behind the terraces should anyone make a run in that direction.

  ‘We could just send the big boys in straight off,’ Easton said, the engine still idling. ‘Surely it’s safer that way?’

  ‘We are the big boys,’ Dani said as she reached for the door.

  She pushed it open and stepped out into the cold. She shut the door just as Easton switched off the engine. She didn’t wait for him as she moved towards the house. No delay now. Not with the two vehicles parked so obviously and obtrusively outside. Dani nodded over to the driver of the van. The armed officers would remain in the back until they got word. Dani’s decision. Everyone was ready to move, but she didn’t want guns on the street unless it was absolutely necessary. Perhaps it was more risky for her and Easton this way, but it was far less risky for pedestrians and everyone else.

  Easton caught up with Dani just as she reached the door to 51. She took one more glance at the van before she rapped on the wood with her knuckles.

  Then she waited.

  And waited.

  She looked left and right. Across the street. Passersby, people at windows, were already taking notice. It wasn’t hard to see that Dani, Easton, and the surreptitiously plonked car and van were out of place.

  Dani knocked once more. Waited again. Nothing.

  ‘Anything at the back?’ Dani said into her radio.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Shit. OK, get the big red key.’

  The big red key. A sixteen-kilo handheld battering ram that could apply more than three tonnes of impact force. Seconds later two uniformed officers, riot helmets on, visors down, appeared from nowhere lugging the enforcer. Dani and Easton stepped back as the burlier of the two men swung the enforcer with venom and smashed it against the door lock. Wood splintered and the door opened first go. The other officer kicked the broken door further open then rushed inside, his friend close behind, Easton and Dani more tentatively following.

  They needn’t have bothered being tentative. It only took a few moments to realise the house was empty.

  * * *

  Dani and Easton remained inside for little more than thirty minutes, by which point all of the officers, armed and unarmed, had moved on, except for a sole PC and the team of FSIs now working through the inside. Dani couldn’t shake her disappointment. Her frustration. Even her embarrassment. This felt like a recurring theme now. Get a lead. Follow lead. Run slap-bang into a solid concrete wall.

  ‘What do you reckon?’ Easton said to her as they traipsed back to the car.

  ‘Someone was definitely living there very recently,’ she said. ‘Furniture. Clothes. TV. Food. All in place.’

  ‘In-date milk still in the fridge.’

  ‘In-date, but it’s not even three days since Grigore and
his pal attacked the police and fled the scene, so that doesn’t really tell us much.’

  The scene in Brownhills. A few minutes’ drive from where they now were. It all fitted. So where was Grigore?

  ‘Maybe he never came back here,’ Easton said. ‘He’s gone on the run. Hiding. Maybe with Victor’s help.’

  ‘Possibly,’ Dani said. ‘Or maybe he’s not running from us at all. But from Victor.’

  Was that a better answer? Potentially. After all, how did the saying go? An enemy of my enemy is my friend.

  If they could find Grigore and his mystery accomplice…

  ‘Shall I drive?’ Easton asked.

  ‘Why not,’ Dani said. Her head was too busy to concentrate on the roads.

  ‘Where to?’

  She really didn’t know. It was already six p.m. Already dark. But…

  ‘HQ first,’ Dani said.

  Easton didn’t look particularly impressed with that idea, but he didn’t protest.

  They’d only moved half a mile when Dani blurted, ‘Stop!’

  Easton did exactly as he was asked. He thumped the brake and the wheels locked and the car rocked to a halt, sending both occupants shooting forwards in their seats. There was a couple of moments of awkward silence. Easton was wide-eyed, staring at Dani.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  Dani laughed. ‘I didn’t mean for you to take me so literally. Pull over.’

  Easton did so as the cars behind flashed and honked their annoyance at Easton’s erratic manoeuvre.

  ‘Think about it,’ Dani said, trying to get her thoughts into shape. ‘Grigore is on the run.’

  ‘You said that already.’

  ‘He’s hiding from his big boss, not the police. When he ran from us the other night, he probably thought we wouldn’t ID him. It’s only because of those fingerprint fragments. Secondary transfer that he might not even have thought about. The police aren’t his number one concern, even if he is going to be seriously wary of us.’

  ‘I’m not sure I get the difference.’

  ‘The difference is in how he reacts after he runs. When they were stopped in the van, they had nothing on them. No ID, no money, no phones. For the very reason that they were transporting a dead body. They were careful. Planned.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And how on earth do you run away with absolutely nothing but the clothes you’re wearing?’

  ‘Are you going to tell me or do I really have to guess?’

  ‘I’ll tell you. You don’t.’

  ‘You don’t?’

  ‘You can’t. At least not without first coming home. Home, or wherever else it is you’ve stashed your money. Your phone. Whatever else.’

  ‘Emergency grab bag?’

  ‘Maybe. But there is another possibility too.’

  ‘There is?’

  ‘Let’s get back there.’

  It took all of two minutes to return to the house. The FSIs were still busy doing their thing and Dani called Tariq over to give him the news.

  ‘You can get cleared up and out of here.’

  ‘We can? We’ve still got—’

  ‘I know, you’re not finished. But I’ll take the risk. We don’t need to go the whole hog—’

  ‘But I thought that was exactly what you told me we did need to do?’

  ‘Just trust me,’ Dani said.

  Ten minutes later only Dani and Easton remained. Dani roamed. And found exactly what she was looking for. Loose floorboard. Under the sofa.

  ‘I think that’s called old school,’ Easton said as he and Dani looked down at the rolls of bank notes. The switched-off mobile phone – a burner, no doubt. The two passports. The picture in both was of the same bull-nosed man, though only one bore the name Silviu Grigore.

  Dani looked up to Easton, trying not to appear smug.

  ‘Maybe he never came back at all,’ he said. ‘If his stuff is still here.’

  ‘No. He’s been back. I’d bet anything. And I think it’s even better than I first thought. He’s been back more than once.’

  ‘How on earth can you—’

  ‘Come with me.’

  She headed out and into the kitchen at the back of the house.

  ‘Open the door,’ Dani said.

  Easton walked over and pulled the handle on the back door but it was locked.

  He frowned and looked around, searching for the key.

  ‘How did the FSIs get out earlier?’ he asked.

  ‘They had to walk around the road to the alley,’ Dani said. She pointed to the empty key hook above the work surface a yard from the door. ‘No key in the lock. No key on the hook. Because?’

  Easton shrugged.

  ‘He’s been back already. And’s he’s now using the back door because he doesn’t trust coming in the front, in case Victor has eyes on this place.’

  Easton looked really dubious now. Though it was obvious what Dani was saying, even if to him it was perhaps all too simple, and convenient.

  ‘That doesn’t mean he’s going to come back again,’ Easton said.

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not. But there’s one way to find out.’

  Chapter 42

  Dani hadn’t been on a stake-out like this for years, and even after three hours in the cold she felt sure it would be worthwhile. Most criminals weren’t geniuses, and very few knew how to properly run and hide for any length of time, particularly when exactly what they needed – money, shelter, clothes – remained in one place. Home.

  Perhaps Grigore thought he was being clever. Hiding from Victor in plain sight. Or perhaps he just saw no other way. Most likely the majority of people he knew also knew Victor Nistor. Grigore – if he was hiding from the boss – was unlikely to have many allies. He needed somewhere to stay, food, clothes, but he couldn’t run the risk of using bank accounts or credit cards, because of the chance that the police too had ID’d him, and would see the activity. He was unlikely to want to burn his limited cash resource on hotels and new clothes and the rest unless absolutely necessary.

  Dani was sure she would be proved right. Eventually.

  But how long could they wait?

  She knew Easton, who was currently in the car, on the street at the opposite end of the back alley, remained less than convinced. And a little agitated that his evening was being slowly eaten into.

  At least he wasn’t standing out in the cold. Not right now, anyway.

  A chill breeze stung her cheeks and Dani hunkered further into her coat and pulled herself closer to the wall behind her as she spied around the lamppost, down the alley to the barbed-wire-topped wall at the back of 51, nearly a hundred yards in the distance. Technically the alley she was in served the houses on the same road, but there was a cross street halfway between her and 51, cutting the alley in two. Easton was a couple of hundred yards further on the other side.

  ‘I can literally hear your teeth chattering from here,’ Easton said, his voice just audible through Dani’s radio which was set to its lowest possible volume.

  ‘Very funny,’ she whispered.

  ‘I’m not joking. If I have to cover you because you’ve given yourself pneumonia…’

  ‘Shh,’ she said, whipping her head around when she heard the faintest of sounds behind her.

  This had always been the risk. Not only being outside, and more exposed than Easton in the car, but being between two quieter back streets than he was. She’d hoped – if Grigore was coming back at all – that he’d come up the cross street in front of her to enter the alley, but fifty yards away in the other direction, a lone figure had stepped out from the street.

  Head down, hands in pockets, the person was moving her way with a measured stride. Whoever it was, there was no indication they knew Dani was there, lurking in the shadows. Within moments, though, they’d be walking right by her. Even with no streetlights here, they would surely spot her in the thin haze of moonlight.

  Of course, there was nothing to say this person was Grigore at all, even if there ha
dn’t been a single other soul walking down here in the last two hours.

  But it could be, which was why Dani’s heart was already dancing. Dani kept her eyes on the figure as they neared. The size, the shape. Most likely a man. Dani was certain this wasn’t random. Which was why she was already reaching up with her radio when the man lifted his head, pointing in Dani’s direction.

  A split-second later, he turned and ran.

  So did Dani.

  ‘Easton, get around here, now! Brookville Road.’

  ‘I’m on it.’

  ‘And call back-up. Just in case. White male. Six foot two. Black hooded coat.’

  Dani was already out of breath as she spoke the words. The man – Grigore? – was nearing the end of the alley.

  ‘Stop! Police!’ Dani shouted.

  Her call did nothing to deter the runner.

  A flash of the foot-chase from Oldbury, two days ago, burst into Dani’s mind. She’d lost out that time against the mystery man. Had that been Grigore too? But why?

  ‘He’s gone left,’ she said into the radio. ‘Towards Stratford Road.’

  She heard the piqued revs of the engine before she saw the car. Easton sped past her just as she reached the end of the alley. She rushed out, her momentum preventing her from turning the corner sharply enough and causing her to veer across the pavement and out into the road behind the car.

  Perhaps that was the same problem the runner had. Or had he simply thought he could make it across to the other side in time before Easton passed?

  Either way, Dani watched in shock as the man lurched into the road. Easton’s brake lights flicked on, tyres squealed on the cold ground, but he could do nothing to slow the vehicle in time and there was a thudding impact which sent the burly figure up into the air. He crashed across the bonnet, onto the roof and then smacked back onto the tarmac behind the car, landing in an awkward heap.

  Dani raced up to him, already fearing the worst. Easton jumped from the car.