Tethered to the Dead: DS Lasser series volume three (The DS Lasser series. Book 3)

by Rob Roughley

  ‘I...’

  ‘I promise you we can sort all this out, Kelly’s done nothing wrong, and her father isn’t here anymore...’

  ‘But it isn’t just that.’

  Suzanne hesitated.

  ‘Look, Mrs Ramsey, I explained all that to Kelly and I think she was going to come back home but then she heard about Sophie and she just clammed up. I mean, she just sat listening to the news and when they found her she was hysterical and then her dad died and she totally flipped.’

  Suzanne could feel the inside of the car growing smaller, the darkness pushing at the windows as if it would somehow break through and smother them both.

  ‘I don’t understand?’

  Zoe slid a hand through her hair. ‘She’s convinced that someone’s after her.’

  It sounded like a childish notion, a fairy-tale, though Suzanne felt a new sense of dread close around her heart. ‘What do you mean after her?’

  ‘I don’t know, I’ve tried to get her to explain, but it’s as if she can’t or won’t. It’s like she has all this stuff mixed up in her head and she can’t sort through it.’

  ‘Take me to her.’

  Zoe looked torn between keeping a promise and unburdening herself from all the guilt and pressure, in the end she simply nodded.

  99

  Reynolds drove past the three-storey house, the frown on his face curdling into a snarl when he saw the copper standing guard at the front door. A small white van with the initials SOCO stencilled on the side was parked in front of the property. The door to the house open, pale light spilling out onto the pavement, a small group of onlookers stood on the opposite side of the road. The flames in his head began to roar and he turned down his fury in much the same way a chef will turn down the heat on a cooker. Breathing deeply, he cleared his mind. It seemed as if Rachael had been selective with the truth, cuts and bruises she’d said, nothing more. He drove past without turning his head, the park glided by to his right. At the junction, he swung right and parked up facing the darkened college. The huge pit wheel in front lit by halogen lights sent tall shadows rearing against the glass-fronted building. He looked at his hands grasping the steering wheel, the veins standing rigid, the knuckles white. Taking another lungful of air, he let it seep from his lips and closed his eyes.

  No doubt the police would be looking for Rachael; they would want to question her and find out what she knew. Reynolds drew in another long breath. Rachael had always been predictable, like a clockwork toy he had spent years winding up, and then sent on her merry way to cause havoc and make money in the process, but now? He snapped his eyes open, control was finite, there was an optimum shelf life to everything, and it seemed as if Rachael had reached hers. She’d lied, and that was unacceptable and now he could no longer call on the services of Sinclair to smooth the path, she would become a liability. He dragged up an image of Jodie Moss, what she lacked in social graces she more than made up for with a willingness to learn, and then of course, there was Kelly Ramsey. He allowed himself a tight smile, it felt like the end of an era, but if history taught you anything, it was that empires rise and fall, and from the ashes, new shoots could flourish. It was a pity about Rachael but he knew there would be others willing to take her place; he smiled to himself, if you knew where to look, acolytes were not that hard to come by.

  100

  Lasser closed his eyes as he listened to Meadows dishing the dirt, his nasal voice squeaky with excitement. ‘I tell you it’s a madhouse here, I couldn’t believe it when they brought Bannister in wearing handcuffs, craziest thing I’ve ever seen.’

  Lasser noticed that Meadows had dropped the DCI tag, now it was plain old Bannister, common criminal. ‘So what’s he meant to have done?’ The front room of the house felt stuffy hot, Medea sat on the sofa, her eyes following Lasser as he paced back and forth in the small space between coffee table and TV.

  ‘Well it looks as if he’s going to be charged with GBH for the solicitor, and assault on some bugger I’ve never even heard of.’

  ‘Jansen?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  Lasser flopped onto the sofa; Medea reached across and gave his hand a squeeze.

  ‘Right, well thanks for that...’

  ‘One more thing, Chadwick and Cooper are looking for you, what should I tell them?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  The line went quiet for moment Meadows cleared his throat. ‘I don’t know if I can do that.’

  Lasser sat forward. ‘You owe me, Meadows, that file that you misplaced, remember?’

  ‘I...’

  ‘The one I found in the waste paper basket, I could have stitched you up but I didn’t...’

  ‘I realise that but this is serious stuff.’

  ‘As was the loss of police property but I kept schtum, and you escaped a possible disciplinary.’

  The seconds stretched out, Lasser watched the clock on the wall and chewed his lip.

  ‘All the same I don’t want to get dragged into anything dodgy...’

  ‘I’m asking you to act dumb, now that shouldn’t be hard for a man like you...’

  ‘Sorry, but you’re asking me to lie...’

  ‘I’m asking for a break there are some things I need to sort...’

  ‘To do with the case?’

  ‘No, I’m struggling to light the sodding barbecue! Of course it’s got to do with the case...’

  ‘Then I’m sorry, but I won’t prejudice myself,’ even through the tiny speaker Lasser could hear the pomposity in Meadows voice.

  He tightened his grip on the phone until the plastic casing began to creak. ‘Listen, I’m only asking for...’

  ‘Sorry, but this is out of order and you know it.’

  ‘Right, well fuck you, Meadows, I’m going to go now and pay your wife a visit...’

  ‘My wife!’

  ‘Remember the Christmas party....’

  ‘What about the party, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about?’ Meadows suddenly sounded nervous.

  ‘I know you didn’t see me, but I nipped outside for a fag and who do you think I saw with his tongue down Sally Wrights throat, and ..?’

  ‘I don’t...’

  ‘Save your breath sunshine, you were all over her like a fucking rash.’

  ‘Look, that was all a misunderstanding...’

  ‘So when she said and I quote, ‘Is that your night stick or are you just pleased to see me,’ she wasn’t referring to you?’

  ‘But you can’t tell!’ Meadows voice went up an octave, full of desperation.

  ‘Bye, bye, Meadows...’

  ‘No wait, I’ll keep my mouth shut, I’ll say you haven’t been in touch...’

  Lasser shook his head in disgust. ‘You know something, Meadows, you really are a piece of shit...’

  ‘Wait, I...’

  Lasser ended the call and slumped back onto the sofa.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Medea asked her voice full of concern.

  He twisted his head and gave her a raw smile. ‘Apart from the company, I’ve had better days.’

  ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘Well, as far as Bannister’s career is concerned, it’s over,’ he trapped the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb and squeezed tight.

  ‘But why would he attack those men? I mean, it doesn’t make any sense.’

  Lasser looked at her from the corner of his eye, drew in a deep breath and started to talk. Watching, as Medea’s eyes grew wide in astonishment, by the time he’d finished she looked as drained as he felt.

  ‘That poor man, what he must be going through...’

  ‘I know...’

  ‘So, what are you going to do about it?’

  ‘Christ knows, like Meadows said there are a couple of superior officers who’ll want to give me a grilling at the very least,’ he sat forward, his brain felt mashed. ‘As things stand, I can either try to get this sorted or go back to the station and take a shafting...’

 
‘But all you’ve done is tried to help.’

  He smiled at her. ‘I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, Chadwick and Cooper hate me at the best of times. They’ll try and fuck me over this, they’ll say I colluded with Bannister when I should have gone straight to the top and told them about the DCIs involvement with Kelly Ramsey.’

  ‘But you were only doing your job...’

  ‘I was only following orders won’t really cut it, Medea,’ he stood and stretched his hands towards the ceiling, bending his back and grimacing when he felt the muscles tighten.

  ‘The problem is I need to find Reynolds. I mean, maybe you are right and he has sod all to do with any of this, but I’d still like to grill the prick. Then there’s Jodie Moss and Rachael Sinclair,’ he could feel himself becoming more wound up. There were too many loose ends, too many lying bastards and not enough time.

  ‘Why don’t you go back to the Reynolds house and I’ll go and see this Zoe, maybe she knows where her sister is...’

  ‘No way, I’m not having you involved in all this...’

  ‘But it would save time, you give me the address and I promise I’ll just go there and see if she’s in. If she is, then I can give you a ring, simple as.’

  Lasser frowned, his brain screaming bad idea, a disaster in the making. His heart conjured up Bannister, a man who had lost everything and then some. He could picture the DCI in cuffs, sitting in one of the soulless interview rooms waiting for the wheels to be put in motion that would ultimately crush him. All the time being torn with the thought that his daughter could still be out there alive, or buried so deep that no one would ever find her. The station would be alive with whispers and rumours, former colleagues would be queuing to see the boss in chains, roll up roll up see the disgraced former DCI.

  ‘You wait outside, you do not go to the door, and if she shows then you ring me.’

  Medea nodded, her face serious, ‘Whatever you say.’

  ‘I still don’t like it.’

  ‘What choice do you have, this man is your friend.’

  Lasser blinked, Alan Bannister a friend? ‘I’ll write the directions down and remember...’

  ‘Stay in the car and ring you straight away if she shows herself.’

  Lasser sighed and reached into his pocket for a pen.

  101

  ‘Pull over.’ Zoe said.

  Suzanne bumped the Range Rover onto the narrow kerb, the Hawthorn bushes screeching along the paintwork, leaning forward she killed the lights and switched off the engine.

  The country lane was deserted; to the left she could see the huge Cale Lane Bakery. Like a satanic mill, the air above the factory seemed to be glowing red. It was as if the heat from the vast ovens were burning the sky, to her right she could see nothing but open fields. The derelict house stood alone in a sea of weeds, the roof sagging, its walls bowed.

  ‘Don’t tell me she’s in there?’ Suzanne asked in disbelief.

  ‘I didn’t know what else to do,’ Zoe sounded apologetic, her face creased with worry.

  ‘But what is this place?’

  ‘My dad owns it, he bought it years ago, he calls it his retirement project,’ she smiled sadly and blew her nose on a piece of tissue. Suzanne clicked the door open and the interior light blinked on. ‘Hurry up we don’t want her to see the light!’ Zoe hissed.

  Suzanne leapt from the car and closed the door, Zoe moved towards her through the gloom.

  ‘Maybe I should go in first, just to make sure everything’s OK?’ Zoe said.

  ‘No way, Zoe, I’m coming with you,’ she had no intention of letting Zoe Metcalf out of her sight, not for one instant.

  The girl looked at her for a moment and then gave a brusque nod. ‘OK, but you’ll have to be careful this place is littered with old bits of tin from when my dad knocked down the stables, so you’ll have to watch where you’re going.’

  ‘No problem, I’ll follow you.’

  Zoe crossed the rutted lane and pushed her way through a gap in the bushes holding back the thin branches so they wouldn’t catapult back. Suzanne felt them snag at her hair and claw at her hands, then they emerged into the field and began to head towards the old house over the tufted grass.

  Suzanne could feel the tension expand in her mind; suddenly the thought of seeing Kelly again filled her with a deep sense of dread. The realisation that she would have to answer all the difficult questions about her father and more importantly about Alan, almost stopped her in her tracks. Although overruling all of these emotions was the visceral needed to hold her only child in her arms to tell her how much she meant to her, how much she was loved.

  Her foot slipped into a divot of earth and she stumbled to her knees, pain lanced through her ankle, forcing her to gasp aloud.

  ‘Are you all right, Mrs Ramsey?’ Zoe whispered.

  Suzanne nodded and flapped a hand. ‘I’m fine, keep going.’

  She hobbled after the girl, wincing with every step. The house drew nearer, an ugly squat building with slates missing from the roof, with most of its windows shattered, the front door had been boarded shut with a thick sheet of plywood. It looked like the stuff of nightmares, the kind of place sick animals came to die and the thought of her daughter hiding inside these crumbling walls made her heart ache.

  Zoe headed for the door and then skirted around the side of the building keeping close to the wall, half way along she stopped. ‘Kelly, it’s me,’ she hissed, before pushing her way through a door that had been hidden by a huge buddleia bush, the scent of the trumpet-like blossoms did little to disguise the stench of the place.

  As soon as she was in the house, Zoe yanked a small torch from her pocket and flicked it on.

  ‘Kelly, it’s me,’ she repeated sotto voce, the thin beam of light swept around the pitiful room. Suzanne stood by her shoulder trying to take it all in. The floor was covered with chunks of plaster that had become dislodged from the ceiling and the bare walls were black with mould. In one corner the torch picked up a small table with a DAB radio placed on top, empty cans of food had been thrown into the grate, empty cartons of orange juice lay scattered across the floor.

  ‘Where is she?’ Suzanne grabbed the sleeve of Zoe’s jacket, peering around the room in disgust; the tang of stale urine filled the air.

  ‘I don’t know, I mean, she knows to stay here, we agreed.’ the light jittered in her hand as the shadows rose and fell.

  ‘Could she be upstairs?’

  Zoe shone the light into one corner; Suzanne could see the hole in the ceiling where the stairs should have been. ‘My dad took them out, he didn’t want anyone messing about up there.’

  ‘So, where is she?’

  Zoe felt the woman’s fingers biting into her arm. ‘You’re hurting me,’ she gasped.

  Suzanne’s hand sprang away. ‘I’m sorry,’ she swallowed. ‘I just need to find her.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ Zoe rubbed at her arm, watching warily as Suzanne moved deeper into the room.

  ‘Kelly, sweetheart, it’s me, please, if you’re hiding just come out everything’s going to be OK, I promise.’

  The silence seemed to laugh at her heartfelt words; the shadows in the corners appeared to darken as if the very walls were absorbing the torch light.

  Suzanne spun around, the sound of grit beneath her feet loud in the darkness. All sense of hope seemed to leave her; it was as if fate had one final cruel trick to play. ‘Zoe, tell me where she is?’

  The girl suddenly looked very young and very scared. ‘I don’t know, she knew I was coming back, I always come back...’

  Suzanne crossed the room in three long strides and grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘Tell me!’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Zoe tried to pull away but the claw like hands tightened their grip.

  ‘You must know!’ Suzanne began to shake her, thrusting her back and forth. She closed her eyes and suddenly it was her husband she had hold of, her bastard husband who had secretly wanted to fuck his stepdaughter. The t
hought slammed through her head like a black hammer blow and she knew it to be the truth. All the young girls had only ever been mirror images of Kelly, a filthy response to his twisted fantasies.

  ‘Get off me!’ Zoe gasped, as she reached forward and pushed, the torch slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor, the place was suddenly plunged into oily darkness. Suzanne felt her grip begin to slip, a moment later Zoe twisted and broke free as the darkness swallowed her. Suzanne could hear the girl clattering across the room, her breathing loud and full of panic, a slab of paler light spilled into the room as she thrust open the door and ran outside.

  ‘Zoe, wait, I’m sorry!’ Suzanne shouted, her voice sounded harsh, like the scream of a demented woman, a banshee out to ensnare the innocent. All thoughts of her dead husband vanished as she realised what she’d done. Suzanne stumbled to the door and looked out across the field but the terrified girl had vanished as if she had never really existed at all.

  102

  Jodie pressed the buzzer and waited, she felt hot and anxious her clothes clung to her like a rubber wetsuit. She knew she shouldn’t have come here but the need to see him had been all-consuming. After the argument with her worthless father she’d found herself wandering the streets, her mind was in chaos, she’d tried to ring Zoe repeatedly and got no response. Steven was the only one who could help; he would calm her with his kisses, soothe her with his words, and make everything all right. Stepping back she looked up at the apartment window, she could see the light was on though there was no sign of his car. She pressed the button, shuffling her feet in agitation. Steven had told her never to come here unless he was with her, but she hadn’t known what else to do, going home to her fat stupid mother had been inconceivable. An image of her sister reared in her mind and she pushed it away, Zoe was just like all the others, a liar, a snide, a fucking bitch.

  She saw the stairwell light flicker on and heaved a sigh of relief.

  When the door opened and she saw a girl with auburn hair looking out at her she blinked in confusion. ‘Who are you?’ she asked.