The second of Craig’s team having a challenging evening was Annette. She was in the back garden of the house she’d shared for years with her ex-husband, taking a breather before the next round of arguing with her kids. In this case a breather was definitely the better part of valour, because after two hours of arguing she wanted to strangle them both with her bare hands. So much for the baby making Amy maternal and Jordan protective; as soon as she’d broached the subject of them needing to move house all hell had been let loose.
“Is this because of lover boy, then?”
“Jordan McElroy! How dare you speak about Mike in that way. He’s never been anything but nice-”
Amy had decided to wade in. “But we grew up here.” She’d pointed at the kitchen door. “You marked our heights there and Dad pushed me on the swing.”
It was said with a sob that had shocked Annette to the bone. Amy hadn’t mentioned her father at all since his assault and imprisonment and she’d refused to visit him in jail, but the brave face she’d been putting on had obviously been a front. At least Jordan had been honest. He’d never been happy that she was seeing someone else.
She shook her head and sat down on the garden bench, feeling helpless. She’d put too much on them; they were still just kids and here she was talking about selling their home. Just then her third child kicked her hard beneath the ribs, winding her and making her smile all at once. The smile deepened when Amy joined her on the seat.
“I’m sorry, Mum. It’s just-”
“Too much. I know.” She placed an arm around her daughter’s too thin shoulders. “It’s me who should say sorry, pet. This is your home.”
Amy gave a weak nod. “But the baby-”
Annette stroked her long brown hair. It was thick and shiny, the colour of horse chestnuts. She wondered if hers had ever looked that way.
“Don’t worry about the baby; it will be small for a long time so there’ll be plenty of room here. I’ll just keep splitting my time between here and Mike’s until you two are ready to live somewhere else.” She hugged her tight. “You’re my baby as well you know.” She glimpsed Jordan listening and added. “You both are. My big babies.” It made them all laugh.
Annette stood up. “Besides…if the number of people threatening to buy toys for the baby actually do, we’ll need both places to hold them all.”
It was a happier conversation than the one John Winter was facing when he rapped the door of Craig’s apartment at eleven o’clock. He closed his eyes tight as he waited; listening to Craig’s footsteps approaching and dreading the words he had to say and the impact that he knew they would have. As the door was pulled back his eyes flew open, and the smile that had covered Craig’s face melted instantly as he read the message written there.
“Who’s dead?”
It was asked with a guilty hope that it might be some stranger, yet with the certainty that no stranger would bring John to his door this late at night. John rushed to reassure him, except that if death was the worst news he could be there to deliver, the news he had to impart was almost as bad.
“Not dead, Marc.”
Craig’s voice was ice. “Who?”
Inside he prayed that if not a stranger, it wasn’t someone he loved so much that it would hurt, then he realised the list of those was so long that it was bound to be. The pathologist made to step inside but Craig blocked the way, his message clear; this isn’t a time for sitting and slow exposition, this is a time for hurry-the-hell-up and tell me and then let’s go. The messenger nodded, drawing on his knowledge of the man in front of him to deliver the blow. Logic, brevity and above all facts were Craig’s language, so he used them to say what he had to say.
“It’s Katy. She’s alive but it’s not good. Car accident. She’s in St Mary’s ICU.”
As Craig’s face shut down and he grabbed his car keys and went to move past him, John took his life in his hands and wrenched the keys from his best friend’s hand.
“I’m driving.”
Craig didn’t say a word, just strode to John’s car and yanked impatiently at its door. The journey was short and silent, as was the run through the corridors to ICU. But that was where the silence ended. As Craig gazed down at the barely recognisable face of the woman he loved he gave a howl that chilled John Winter to his core.
****
St Mary’s Hospital ICU. Tuesday, December 22nd. 7. 30 a.m.
John was leaning against a vending machine, punching its silver buttons as if he’d prefer to be punching someone’s head, when Liam arrived. The exhausted D.C.I. walked towards him, a stunned look on his pale face.
“God, what a shocker. How did it happen? Do you know?”
John moved them down the corridor, away from the unit’s doors. It was unlikely that anyone inside ICU could hear anything but if they could then Liam’s booming bass would be certain to penetrate. John spotted some seats and took one, answering the policeman’s questions in a quiet voice.
“There’s not much information yet. Katy’s mum’s inside. The poor woman’s blaming herself. Apparently Katy was visiting her for the evening and they ordered a takeaway. They brought the wrong thing so Katy nipped back to Stranmillis to change it. She was on her way back to Stockmans Lane when she lost control of the car on the Balmoral slope and drove into a wall.”
Liam had been nodding throughout the explanation but now he sat down shaking his head. “She didn’t just drive into a wall for nothing. She’ll have done it to avoid hitting someone.”
John sighed heavily. “Probably, but until the collision investigators give us the details-”
Liam stood up again abruptly. “I’ll get them. Gabe Ronson will know.” He scanned the corridor. “Where’s the boss?”
John jerked his thumb toward the unit. “He’s been here all night. Won’t leave her side.” He shook his head. “He keeps muttering something about not saying goodbye to her last time they spoke.” He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes; they were redder than a lack of sleep could account for. “Do you want me to get him for you? I don’t think he’ll come out.”
Liam turned towards the lift. “Leave him. If he asks, tell him I’ll get on with the investigation and he’s to stay put.”
John replaced his glasses. “Is that where you’re going now?”
“Later. First I’m off to see a man about a crash.”
****
Stockmans Lane. 8 a.m.
Seeing Gabe Ronson could wait until he’d viewed the scene and car, so by eight o’clock Liam was standing inside a line of bollards narrowing the busy road to one lane. It wasn’t going down well with the locals, who were crawling a few feet forward in traffic and punctuating each shift with a honk. How they thought making noise was going to turn one lane into two beat him, but if it cheered up a gloomy Tuesday morning for them they could honk till their noses bled. He’d been staring at the ground for five minutes when he heard a respectful cough and turned to see Annette.
“Morning, Madam.”
She shook her head. “This is so sad, Liam. The chief must be in shreds.” She didn’t wait for an answer, pointing at the road instead. “Those skid marks look more like she was doing eighty than the ten people normally do down that hill.”
It was a good point so Liam hunkered down to take a closer look. Katy’s car was a small saloon, not powerful, more a steady mode of transport from A to B, yet the wide black smears of rubber on the tarmac were like something you would see at a rally at Dundrod.
As Annette added. “Were the traffic lights out?” He strode towards them and watched three changes, then wandered back, shaking his head.
“They’re working OK this morning, but I’ll check with Gabe.”
He made a few notes and then turned towards the wall that the car had hit. It was solid apart from a small tunnel that led to Balmoral Railway Station. The ground around it was dotted with broken bricks. “It must have made one hell of a bang, if she was going that fast.”
Annette frowned
, thinking. “OK, let’s say the lights weren’t out; maybe they were green. Even so, Katy isn’t usually a fast driver; just average I’d say. So was she in a particular hurry last night?”
Liam shook his head. “According to her mum she’d just gone to Stranmillis to change a takeaway. Hardly life or death.” His eyes narrowed. “Anyway, even if she’d been speeding she couldn’t have managed eighty in town, and if she’d stopped at the lights it would have been eighty from a standing start. There’s no way her car could have done nought to eighty in a few seconds without-”
Their next words emerged together.
“Sabotage.”
They couldn’t say anything to Craig until they were certain, and even then Liam wasn’t sure that they should tell him. He had enough to think about without worrying that someone had deliberately tried to kill Katy and… Annette voiced the thought before he could.
“If it was sabotage it could be someone getting at the chief.”
Her heart sank at the thought then dropped further at the inevitability of Craig’s response.
“We can’t tell him, Liam. He’ll kill them.”
Liam nodded and turned back towards the cars. “Then we’ll just have to get to the bastard first.”
****
It was easier said than done. Which of the countless villains that Craig had put away in the preceding years could have targeted him so effectively? Because the more Liam thought about it the more he was sure that Katy had been collateral damage. Whoever had done this had been out to destroy the boss.
As Annette headed back to the office to continue Dominic Guthrie’s murder hunt Liam headed off to see the man who worshipped rules. He found Gabe Ronson hunched over a hefty, and from its cover obviously brand new, volume of EU legislation. The way he was stroking it made Liam want to say “get a room”.
Instead he said.
“Need your help, Gabe.”
Ronson’s head jerked up and the look in his eyes said that Liam had called it right. He’d been planning a private session with his new rule book and he wasn’t happy to be disturbed.
“Don’t you ever knock?”
“Don’t you ever knock, sir.”
Ronson nodded grudgingly because, irritating as he found Liam even on a good day, he couldn’t argue with his rank. He stood up in an attempt at respect.
“What can I do for you, D.C.I. Cullen?”
“Much better.”
Liam grabbed the chair that Ronson had just vacated, leaving the host nowhere to sit but on his desk.
“Last night around eight/nine o’clock. Were the lights at Balmoral Avenue out?”
“No.”
Ronson’s reply sounded so certain that Liam was reluctantly impressed he hadn’t needed to check. Oh, for a job where you could get on top of your brief and stay there.
He decided to push it.
“Stockmans Lane end? Not even for half-an-hour? It would be easy to miss-”
This “No” was louder and accompanied by. “I get updates every hour.”
Even throughout the night? Liam decided not to ask.
“OK then. I need to see the traffic camera footage for the Balmoral Avenue/Stockmans Lane junction between seven and ten p.m. last night.”
Ronson’s response was automatic. “Why?”
Liam arched an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”
“Sorry. I meant to say ‘why, sir?’”
Now he was just being cheeky and Liam wasn’t having that. He dropped his bass to a reverberating growl.
“Because I said so, Inspector, that’s why. And that’s all you need to know. Tape. NOW!”
The order made Ronson jump; it also made him strangely excited but that was between him and his shrink. Five minutes later Liam was watching as Katy’s small red car approached the traffic lights and stopped. The lights had been working, so how had she gained so much speed from a standing start? The slope down was steep but not that steep. He got his answer ten seconds later. As the lights changed the car pulled away slowly, then gathered speed at a rate far above what gravity alone could have caused, until just outside the tunnel to Balmoral Station a blue car cut from left to right across her path. If anything that should have slowed Katy down, but he could see from her terrified expression that she couldn’t stop. Turning towards the wall had been her only chance of not killing someone, so, with a turn so sharp that he could almost hear her wheels screech on the silent tape, she’d hit the high stone wall at speed with a bone crunching thud. Liam glanced up to see Ronson looking sick.
“God. She must have been killed.”
Liam rose and ejected the tape, turning towards the door with it in his hand. “She’s in Intensive Care. I’ll get this copied and back to you. Now, which way’s the forensic garage? I need to see a man about a car.”
****
9 a.m.
The two men stared at the mangled car for ten minutes. Walking around it clockwise and anti-clockwise then yanking its doors and boot open and peering inside. Finally Des Marsham nodded.
“It’ll take me a while but I’ll give it a go.”
Liam shook his head. “No offence, Doc, but a go’s not good enough. This was sabotage pure and simple and I need to know how they managed it. Katy drove from her flat to her mum’s with no bother, and there are plenty of hills up and down on that trip. To me, that means that whatever was done to the car happened while she was inside her mum’s house.” He swallowed for a moment, imagining Danni in Katy’s place. “We owe it to the boss to get an answer. I can check the tapes for Stockmans Lane and the scene, but what happened inside that car is down to you.”
Des stroked his beard for a minute then stopped suddenly, as if something had occurred to him. “Leave it with me. I’ll be in touch.”
Liam lost him to the world of science and returned quickly to his own. When he arrived at the C.C.U. the floor was buzzing and most of the noise seemed to be coming from the analysts’ desks. He ignored Nicky’s anxious face, waved hello to Jake as he passed and beckoned Annette and the two analysts to join him in Craig’s room.
He waved them to the chairs and stayed standing.
“OK, Annette’s probably told you what’s happened to Doctor Stevens, so the boss will be out of commission for a while-”
Ash cut in. “How long?”
Liam shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. Could be a day, a week, or he could come walking through that door right now.” Ash stared at the door in anticipation. “I was speaking metaphorically, son. What I will say is that I’ve seen the traffic cam of the accident.”
With that he reached inside his jacket and withdrew the tape, handing it to Davy. “Watch it and copy it; Ronson wants it back. And I need the footage of Stockmans Lane, where Katy’s mum lives, from six to ten last night.”
Davy just nodded, astounding Ash with his lack of nosiness.
“Des Marsham’s in the forensic garage looking at the car, so we’ll know more on that soon.”
Ash leaned forward excitedly. “You think it was sabotaged, don’t you? You think someone who hates the chief did this to get at-”
It was Davy who shut him up, in no uncertain terms. “Can’t you keep your mouth shut for one minute? We all know Katy and s…she’s nice. So the last thing we need is a conspiracy geek turning her accident into some sort of game!”
Ash had the good grace to look embarrassed. He blushed and dropped his head. “Sorry, I only thought-”
Liam couldn’t imagine what a fight between two computer geeks looked like and he wasn’t in the mood to find out, so he cut him short. “Well, you can think about Guthrie’s murder instead.” He turned to Annette. “What’s happening with it?”
She pointed him back to Ash, making the analyst’s cheeks flush even further. “Before we leave the topic of sabotage; Ash has something that might apply. On Guthrie; Davy’s got more on the three names we found. Which do you want first?”
“Davy.” He hadn’t quite forgiven Ash.
/> Davy rested his smart-pad on the desk and woke up its screen. “OK, here are the three most relevant murder/suicides from the s…search of local deaths between nineteen-eighty-two and today.” The list comprised two men and one woman. Davy continued. “I left the s…searches running last night and here’s what we have.” He lifted the pad and read aloud. “Angela Farrell, sixty-two, murdered by s…stabbing in two thousand and one. Killer never caught. Joshua Murnaghan, nineteen, suicide by overdose in nineteen ninety-eight. Paul Hamnet, twenty-nine, s…suicide by jumping from a railway bridge in Armagh onto the tracks, just as a train went through.”
Annette interjected. “Both definitely suicides?”
Davy shrugged. “I suppose someone could have forced an overdose on Murnaghan but the train driver said Hamnet didn’t even try to escape, just s…smiled as he approached. He braked, but it was too late for him to stop.”
Liam thought for a moment before speaking. “OK, let’s park the murder for now; the boss was pretty certain Jamison wouldn’t have got his hands dirty. But we definitely need more on the suicides. First, I need to be convinced that they were both suicides; that Murnaghan one could be dodgy. Then I want to know what, if any, connection they had with Dick Jamison.” He turned to Annette. “Can you and Reggie do the leg work while Davy gets what he can from the files?”
Annette shrugged. “We can, but it would be quicker for Andy and Rhonda to take one suicide while Reggie and I take the other.”
Liam shook his head immediately. “I agree on the two prongs, but you pair with Rhonda and Andy can take Reggie.” A quick shake of his head told her not to ask why. “Also, Davy, give Jake some of that background stuff to do. He’s just back and I don’t want him getting bored.” He folded his arms across his paunch, falling silent for a moment before turning to Ash with a chastising look.
The Talion Code Page 27
