Will to Live

by Rachel Amphlett

  ‘I’m just glad he didn’t enter the house while they were still here.’

  Goose bumps appeared under her fingertips and he shivered.

  ‘They must’ve been watching. Waiting for a chance to break in.’

  ‘They were lucky you put Holly in the kitchen.’

  ‘So is she, I think.’ He squeezed her shoulders. ‘I’ve almost finished downstairs. You okay up here?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ll phone in a takeaway order in about an hour.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  He kissed the top of her hair, then turned and retreated back downstairs. Soon, she could hear the vacuum cleaner humming and the hammering and drilling of the locksmith interspersed with a cheerful whistle.

  She sighed, shook the bin liner until it opened out, and began to sweep the shattered pieces of her computer into it.

  Thirty-One

  Kay dumped her bag under her desk, checked there were no messages waiting for her and then wandered over to Debbie. ‘Can you log out that phone of Nathan Cox’s for me from evidence? I want to take it over to Grey at headquarters.’

  ‘Sure. You leaving it with him?’

  ‘For a while.’ She waited while Debbie completed the paperwork before racing from the room.

  Twenty minutes later, she pushed through the double doors to Kent Police headquarters and ran up the stairs two at a time, before hammering on a door that blocked her path.

  Her security access wouldn’t allow her to enter the digital forensics expert’s lair unaccompanied.

  Movement on the other side of the door preceded a face peering through the glass panel at her, a pair of intense green eyes framed by olive skin.

  She held up the plastic bag and waved it in front of the glass.

  The skin around the eyes crinkled before the face disappeared and the door opened.

  ‘Hunter, what brings you here?’

  ‘We’ve got a nasty one, Grey. Heard you were working here for a while instead of your usual haunt. I’m hoping this might help us.’

  ‘Come on in and explain yourself.’

  He gestured towards a pair of faux leather chairs next to a swathe of computer screens, which he expertly switched off with one keystroke.

  Kay tried not to let her disappointment show; she’d always been fascinated by what Grey and his team were capable of, and he was one of the few who had stood by her in the aftermath of the Professional Standards investigation.

  ‘You know queue jumping is frowned upon around here,’ he said, and held out his hand.

  ‘Yeah. I know.’ She passed him the plastic bag. ‘But I think our killer’s number is on that.’

  He frowned, leaned over his desk and pulled open the drawer before extracting a pair of gloves. ‘Explain.’

  ‘That phone belonged to a man who was originally believed to have committed suicide, except it now looks like he was murdered – by someone who is still killing men of the same age group. Our lot can run searches on the phone records made to and from the phone, but we can’t trace that withheld number. The killer drugs his victims and ties them onto the railway tracks, Grey, and he’s been getting away with it.’

  He arched an eyebrow. ‘Until now?’

  ‘Right.’ She told him about Lawrence Whiting’s murder, and the witness.

  In response, he dragged the plastic bag away from the phone and press the power button. ‘Dead.’

  ‘It was on its last legs when I switched it on earlier.’

  He pulled out the charger and plugged in the phone, propping it up against one of the computers.

  ‘That’ll only be five or ten minutes,’ he said, and settled into the other chair to wait. ‘Where did you get it from?’

  ‘The mother of one of our victims – Nathan Cox. His mother said she couldn’t bear to throw any of his stuff away. Originally, when I was there with Carys, I thought it’d be useful to go through so we could speak to the people saved to his contacts list, but then on the way back here I noticed there was a withheld number – someone called him a few hours before he died.’

  ‘And you think it was your killer?’

  She nodded. ‘When we spoke to a friend of Lawrence Whiting’s, he made a similar statement – Whiting received a phone call late in the afternoon. He wouldn’t tell his friend who it was, and he went out to meet that person almost immediately. Within hours, he was dead.’

  ‘You think they both knew who the killer was?’

  ‘Or, the killer knew something about them and was threatening them with that knowledge. Either way, it was enough to make them go to him.’

  Grey leaned forward and pressed the screen of the phone. It flashed to life, the battery icon in the top right corner still showing red.

  ‘What happened to Whiting’s phone?’

  ‘We don’t know. It wasn’t recovered from the crime scene, and it wasn’t in his flat.’

  ‘You think the killer took it?’

  ‘Maybe. Whiting’s number doesn’t appear on the call register of that phone of Nathan’s, so they weren’t talking to each other.’

  ‘All right. What you want from me?’

  ‘Can you trace that withheld number?’

  ‘Yeah. Should be able to.’ He pointed to the blank stares of the computer screens around him. ‘I’ll have to fit it in around all this though.’

  ‘What is it?’

  His mouth twitched. ‘Come on, Hunter – you know I can’t tell you that.’

  She smiled. ‘Worth a shot. Okay, if you can find a number, and then let me know who it belongs to and where we might find him, that would be a good start.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘And if there’s any more activity on it, can you call me? Doesn’t matter what time it is.’

  ‘Will do.’

  He followed her to the door and unlocked it, but then placed his hand on the wooden surface and peered down at her.

  ‘Was there something else you wanted to ask me?’

  His green eyes bored into hers, a faint whiff of coffee on his breath.

  Kay bit her lip, her thoughts returning to the search she’d conducted in the database the previous night.

  Did he know?

  Could Grey be trusted?

  She forced a smile. ‘No, thanks. That’s everything.’

  He dropped his hand. ‘Okay, as long as you’re sure?’

  ‘Yes. Thanks.’

  She pushed her way out into the corridor and hurried towards the stairwell, not stopping until she reached the landing between the floors.

  Something in Grey’s manner had changed during their conversation.

  She had no doubt that he would help her in relation to Nathan Cox’s phone, but what did he mean by asking her if she wanted help with anything else?

  Was he implying he knew about her covert investigation?

  He had worked on enough investigations behind the scenes to know if someone was trying to access information they shouldn’t be, after all.

  She glanced at her watch and sighed. It was only eight o’clock, and she was already exhausted.

  ‘No wonder you’re starting to get paranoid, Hunter.’

  Thirty-Two

  Sharp stopped talking when Kay entered the incident room and slung her bag under her desk before joining the group gathered around the whiteboard.

  ‘Everything alright?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ She gestured to him to continue.

  ‘Right, well as I was saying, we’re now down to a reduced amount of administrative assistance on this investigation, thanks to an armed robbery at a pub on the Sittingbourne Road last night, so you’re going to be responsible for your own paperwork for most of the time.’

  A collective groan filled the room. Admin help was a luxury, and sorely missed when it wasn’t available.

  ‘Nevertheless, we maintain the same level of integrity as we started with. The superintendent hasn’t approved overtime, but I know you want to see justice served to whoever did this to our victims. We
carry on regardless.’

  He drew the briefing to a close, and put the whiteboard marker pen on the desk next to him before he took a pile of reports Debbie West handed to him and disappeared into his office.

  Kay rubbed at her right eye and tried to concentrate.

  Her mind kept returning to the discovery that any mention of the missing evidence that had nearly ended her career, had been deleted.

  She lifted her head and gazed around at her colleagues in the room.

  Were any of them responsible for tampering with the system?

  And if so? Why?

  Was one of them somehow involved with the suspect they had been trying to investigate in order to arrest? Had they somehow protected him?

  She wracked her brains, trying to recall if any of them had mentioned anything suspicious during that investigation, but she couldn’t remember.

  She sighed and dropped her gaze back to her work. She hated the thought of suspecting one of them. She despised the fact that someone was determined to stop her from conducting her own investigation.

  Her fist clenched at the thought that her work had encroached on her home life. She had always sheltered Adam from the more unsavoury aspects of her job, and she sensed a shift in their relationship since the break-in last night, which frightened her. Yes, she’d been shocked and appalled at what had happened, but she wouldn’t be scared off. Adam, on the other hand, enjoyed a relatively sheltered life. He hadn’t been exposed to some of the experiences that she had, and she had to protect him.

  She forced herself to try and relax; she couldn’t afford to drop the ball on this one. No matter what was happening at home, she was responsible for helping Sharp to manage a murder investigation.

  ‘Shit.’ She read the paragraph of text before her once again, and then called out to Barnes. ‘Ian, can you look at this?’

  He pushed back his chair and wandered over to where she sat. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Take a look.’ Kay handed him the page. ‘I found it in amongst the documentation we got from the transport police. We hadn’t looked at it before as we were looking for suicides. Check out the two names on the last page of the report.’

  Barnes’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Same as two of the suicide victims,’ he said.

  ‘That’s the connection,’ said Kay, ‘I’m sure of it. Not that rehabilitation programme.’

  Sharp appeared at her elbow. ‘What have you found?’

  ‘Two years ago, at a set of points just outside Barming station, an engineering team were working on upgrading signalling. Alison Campbell was a graduate engineer; she was twenty-seven at the time. In total there were six people involved in the signalling upgrade who were at the scene when the accident happened. According to Cameron Abbott, when he was asked during the inquest, they had all undergone vigorous safety training and had worked on railways together before. Alison wasn’t as experienced as the rest of team, but everybody had a soft spot for her and would look out for her as they were walking along a live track. That meant that trains were still running, although at a slightly reduced speed. They had been working since eight o’clock that morning and had taking regular breaks in accordance with health and safety regulations.’

  ‘What went wrong?’ said Sharp.

  ‘Two trains had passed by during the previous hour before the accident,’ said Kay. ‘The team had posted lookouts several metres along the track where the crew were working and radio contact was maintained at all times. The alerts were provided to the team that a train was approaching and would be at their location within two minutes. As the train came into view, the crew moved to the side of the railway track, to wait for the train to pass. Although the track they were working on was closed, the track next to them wasn’t – it was a precaution that they would leave enough space between them and the locomotive as it passed. Our victim, Lawrence Whiting, was one of the people tasked with acting as lookout. His role was to liaise with rail control via radio and warn the other team members when the train was approaching using a whistle and his voice. At the inquest, he was asked repeatedly if he had passed on every single instruction from the control room. The coroner asked Whiting if he was sure that he hadn’t missed a last-minute message. Whiting maintained that he had passed on all information to the team as it was relayed to him. He was quite adamant that he had followed all the health and safety precautions set out by the railway company, and those the team instilled at the pre-start meeting that morning. Abbott said at the inquest that he’d turned his back to step away from the tracks, when Lawrence shouted to him and pointed over his shoulder. He couldn’t hear what the man was saying, because the train was so close so he turned around, and stated that Alison was still standing on the track where they had been working. He called out to her to step away but he said she ignored him. As the train went past them she walked out into the path of it. He says, without a backward glance.’

  ‘And both our suicide victims and our murder victim were present,’ added Barnes.

  ‘That’s too much of a coincidence to ignore,’ said Sharp.

  ‘Right. That’s what I’m thinking.’

  ‘Are the other team members listed in the coroner’s report?’

  ‘Yes – Peter Bailey and Jason Evans.’

  ‘Well, I guess now we know who our latest victim might be.’

  ‘I’ll make contact with the railway company and get details for both of them,’ said Kay.

  ‘Do that,’ said Sharp. ‘And if they give you any problems, put them on to me. If we’re right about this, we have another man walking around out there that has no idea he might be the intended target of a serial killer.’

  Thirty-Three

  With the investigation ratcheting up another gear, Kay had left a message with the railway company and then taken the cash Sharp waved at her and left the incident room in search of coffee for the team of detectives.

  She made her way up Gabriel’s Hill towards the café the team frequented, savouring the freedom from her desk for a moment. She often found her best ideas materialised when she was walking.

  Her phone rang, and she rummaged in her bag before answering it.

  ‘Detective Hunter? It’s Doctor Williams here. You left a message with my receptionist the other day.’

  ‘I did. Thanks for calling back.’ Kay stepped under the portico of a deserted shop to get away from the busy pedestrianised street. ‘We wanted to talk to you about Lawrence Whiting.’

  ‘Of course. Dreadful business. I was shocked when I received your message.’

  ‘Can you tell me why Lawrence was prescribed antidepressants?’

  ‘He was struggling to cope after a colleague of his was killed in a train accident. As with most men of his age, he didn’t seek help for a long time after the incident and tried to cope with his anxiety in his own way. I think a friend of his had a kindly word with him in the end. He was in quite a state by the time he came to see me.’

  ‘Would that be the train accident in which Alison Campbell was killed?’

  ‘Yes, that’s the one. Lawrence was required to give evidence at the coroner’s inquest. I think that’s what tipped him over the edge. It was more than he could bear, to have to relive the experience in front of all those people and her parents.’

  ‘We conducted a search of Lawrence’s flat, but we didn’t find any evidence of prescribed antidepressants. Had he stopped taking them?’

  ‘The last time he came to see me, we discussed lowering the dosage. That was about six weeks ago. Lawrence felt he was coping better, and wanted to stop taking them immediately. I cautioned him against this, because it can be a shock to the system and I was worried about the side effects of doing so.’

  ‘But he did so anyway?’

  ‘Yes, he did. I had a follow-up appointment with him two weeks ago and I have to say I was amazed at the difference in him. He told me that he’d taken up yoga and meditation, after seeing some videos online about how it can help with depression. I’m not so sur
e about the truth in that, but it was helping him. He was eating healthier, and he was talking about joining a gym.’

  ‘That’s certainly the impression we gained from visiting his flat and talking to his sister. Our investigation has moved on considerably since I left my message. We’ve evidence to suggest Lawrence was murdered. When you last saw him, did he voice any concerns?’

  ‘Not at all. It’s terrible that someone who was managing to turn his life around so well should be taken from us so soon.’

  Kay thanked the doctor for his time, and ended the call before continuing up the street towards the café. As she placed her order and waited for the coffees to be prepared, she mulled the doctor’s words over in her mind.

  She took the takeaway tray from the café owner, nodded her thanks and pulled out her phone once more as she pushed through the door.

  ‘Lucas, it’s Hunter. The traces of antidepressants in Whiting’s blood samples? He hadn’t been prescribed any six weeks ago. I’ve just finished speaking with his doctor. How long would it take for the drugs to leave his system?’

  She listened to his response and then put her phone away and picked up her pace on the way back down Gabriel’s Hill, all the pieces falling into place.

  She burst through the door to the incident room, placed the tray on Gavin’s desk and spoke with him briefly before hurrying into Sharp’s office.

  ‘The killer has access to antidepressants. That’s what he’s using to drug his victims.’

  Sharp turned away from his computer and gestured to her to take a seat. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘I spoke with Whiting’s GP a moment ago. Whiting hadn’t had a prescription for antidepressants for six weeks.’

  ‘He could’ve got some from another doctor.’

  ‘No – we didn’t find any at his flat, remember.’

  ‘Have you spoken to Lucas?’

  ‘Yes – and he confirms the toxicology reports and everything points to a large dose of antidepressants being in Whiting’s body at the time of his death, so our killer must have access to them somehow.’