Lucy approached Tara. ‘What’s the plan?’
Tara smiled. ‘There’s only the one roadway, with the entrance, next to the Portakabin,’ she pointed out. ‘We’ll block it with the Land Rover and move in and arrest them. Simple.’
They climbed into the Land Rover, alongside the four Tactical Support Unit officers who had accompanied Tara and the driver down. They wore blue cargo pants and fleeces over their shirts. They all carried guns with them.
The Land Rover’s doors slammed shut and the vehicle’s engine roared into life as the driver accelerated it up the roadway towards where the van was parked. Leaning forward, Lucy could see through the reinforced windscreen over the driver’s shoulder. The four gang members outside heard their approach and instantly dropped what they were doing. One’s instinct was to run for the white van, possibly too shocked to realize that he was already blocked in by the police. The other three, however, scattered in different directions across the yard. One made for the area of scrap to the right, scrambling over the pile nearest to him, failing to find purchase on the metal, which slid away beneath his feet with each step he tried to take. The other two cut left towards the carcasses of the cars.
Lucy felt the Land Rover brake suddenly then one of the uniforms flung open the back doors and the four men jumped out and set off in pursuit of the gang members. Lucy and Tara followed, Tara heading straight for the man struggling through the piles of scrap, accompanied by a TSU officer.
The other three TSU men made for the piled cars, in pursuit of the two who had run, leaving Lucy to approach the white Transit van. She pulled her own gun from its holster and, holding it in front of her, both hands to steady it, banged on the side of the van three times in quick succession.
‘PSNI,’ she shouted. ‘Show me your hands.’
Behind her, she heard the thud of the police Land Rover door as the driver got out to support her.
She could see the face of the man in the white van reflected in the side mirror as he tried to gauge the likelihood of his escape. Then, incrementally, she saw the side window begin to lower. Instinctively she pressed herself against the side of the van, gun ready.
‘Show me your hands,’ she shouted again. ‘Now.’
The window cranked down faster now and, slowly, the man’s two hands appeared through the gap.
With the PSNI driver approaching from the passenger side of the van, Lucy stepped up and pointed her gun into the van cabin. A single man, in his late teens at most, sat in the driver seat. His face was swarthy, a raw black beard on his chin. His eyes focused on the tip of Lucy’s gun and did not waver. Then he heard the passenger door of the van open behind him and turned to face a second PSNI gun.
‘Please,’ he whimpered, turning to look at the other officer.
Lucy pulled the cable ties from her belt and quickly looped them around his hands, then pulled the plastic tight, cuffing him. Then she opened the door and gripping the man by his shirt front, pulled him out of his seat and onto the ground.
He lay on his face while she sat astride his back, frisking him quickly to check for any weapons. Satisfied that he had none, she twisted him round, onto his back. The PSNI driver had approached them now and stood above them.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
‘Marcus,’ the man said, wide eyed.
As the officer cautioned the man, Lucy moved to the back of the van and climbed inside to see what the men had been shifting. Coils of copper wiring were stacked to one side of the van, while against the back wall wads of folded lead flashing were piled to the height of the seats in the cab beyond. To the left-hand side were various bits of scrap metal, among which Lucy spotted one section of the cast metal fencing she’d had placed on Mary Quigg’s grave.
She climbed back down from the van, just as Tara approached with the second man in cuffs.
‘Well?’
‘It’s the right team for the churches and graveyards anyway,’ Lucy said. Over to her left, Lucy could see the other three uniforms tracking their way through the rows of piled cars, still searching for the two men who were presumably hiding inside some of the wrecks.
Lucy grabbed Marcus and, pulling him to his feet, brought him round to the rear of the van.
‘Is this cabling from the train line?’
The boy nodded. ‘It wasn’t us,’ he said.
‘This wasn’t you?’
‘No. The girl. She was there when we arrived. We’d only cut a bit and we came round the bend and saw her. She was just lying there. She was dead already.’
The boy was clearly terrified, perhaps believing that the police suspected the gang of Karen’s killing.
‘So you say,’ Lucy snapped.
‘I swear,’ the boy managed. ‘We saw someone leaving when we arrived. An old guy, grey hair. He was getting into a car. It was red, I think. I didn’t see what make. But it was small. Like a Fiesta or something.’
‘What about the stuff from the graveyard?’ she demanded. ‘Did you take that?’
Marcus glanced at the officers standing around and nodded.
‘We’d best leave this till we get to the station,’ Tara cautioned.
Ignoring the comments, Lucy pointed to the fencing from Mary’s grave. ‘This was taken from a child’s grave. Who stole it?’
The man shook his head. ‘Not me. That was Shaun. In the red T-shirt. He did the graveyard while we did the church roof.’
He nodded towards the piled cars. Shaun was evidently one of the two men still hiding there.
As they glanced across towards where the man had indicated, they suddenly saw that one of the columns of cars, close to the fencing, was beginning to sway. Below it, in the small pathway between the carcasses, they could see the uniforms moving, searching for the two missing men.
‘Jesus,’ Tara shouted, as the uppermost car of the moving pile, a red Skoda missing a door and bonnet, seemed to teeter at the edge, then fell forwards, knocking into the adjacent pile in the next row. In a moment, in a domino effect, the piles of scrapped cars began tumbling one into the next, bits of the car bodies dropping into the gaps between the rows where the three uniforms were, trapping them beneath the debris.
With the uppermost car now fallen, Lucy could see Shaun, the man in the red T-shirt, his back pressed against the far fence, using his legs as leverage to the uppermost car in the next pile over, recreating the effect again. Then he turned and began scrambling up the metal fence, using the barbs at the top as a grip to pull himself up.
As Tara and the two uniforms ran towards the fallen cars to look for their colleagues, Lucy sprinted down the roadway out of the scrapyard, trying to keep an eye on Shaun’s progress. As she reached the main gateway, she saw him swing over the top of the fence, as if to drop to the ground beyond.
Puffing furiously, she sprinted the circumference of the fence, aware now that at least one other TSU officer was following some distance behind her, realizing that she needed support.
As she neared the spot where Shaun had been climbing, she realized that he’d not made it down, as she’d expected. His trousers had become entangled in the barbs and he was caught at the top of the fence, tugging at the material, trying to tear himself free. Just as Lucy approached, she heard the rip of fabric and he fell onto the ground in front of her. He struggled to get to his feet, but Lucy covered the final few yards and fell onto him, pinning him back down.
He writhed beneath her, trying to buck her off his back as Lucy laid her full weight against him. Finally, the TSU officer arrived and, dropping beside her, laid his weight on Shaun’s legs, effectively pinning him to the ground.
‘You’re under arrest for theft,’ Lucy managed. ‘Put your hands in front of you.’
Shaun tried to kick and shifted his weight, but he was overpowered. Finally, Lucy felt him slump, and he extended his two hands out in front of his head, his face pressed into the dirt of the ground where he’d fallen.
Lucy moved quickly, looping the cable ties
around his outstretched hands, pinching them tight against the skin of his arm. His hands lay flat on the ground, the wrists bound together, his arms outstretched above his head.
The TSU man stood up, dusting himself as he did so, then turned quickly to look into the yard through the gaps in the fence to where one of his colleagues lay on the ground beneath the scrapped Skoda.
‘Are you OK, Danny?’ he called.
Lucy leaned down close to Shaun’s ear. ‘You stole from graves, is that right?’ she said.
Shaun looked up at her, his face smeared with mud. ‘No comment.’ He smiled.
Rising, Lucy stepped on his hand with her steel-capped boot, pressing down until she heard the fingers’ crack behind the screaming of the man and the shouts of the TSU officer as he tried to pull her away.
Chapter Sixteen
A fire tender was at the scene within minutes, with cutting equipment, lest it should be needed. They shifted the remains of the cars as carefully as possible in order to create sufficient space for the PSNI men trapped beneath to crawl out. In addition, it became apparent that in pushing over the cars, Shaun had trapped one of his own gang members beneath a badly rusted Scenic. He cried out periodically in rage as the officers worked first to rescue their own colleagues before coming to his aid.
The metal gang members were brought back to Strand Road station, where Tara, preening herself on having overseen the operation to arrest them, briefed Burns. Lucy was called into his office after he had spoken with Tara.
‘I understand you questioned one of the suspects?’ he said, without preamble.
Lucy nodded. ‘I wanted to be sure we had the right people,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. I should have waited.’
‘You should indeed,’ Burns said. ‘You got a description apparently. What did he say?’
‘As they arrived, they saw an older man, grey haired, getting into a red car in the parking bay. He drove off and they started harvesting the metal. As they moved down the line, they came across Karen’s remains. He said they didn’t touch the body. They scarpered when they found it.’
‘You should have left it until he was brought back here.’
‘We have a description now, at least, sir.’
‘Though there’s no guarantee that the man they saw had anything to do with Karen’s disappearance.’
‘It seems a little odd that a man would be in the park at that time of night for any legitimate reason.’
Burns accepted this with a curt nod. ‘Regardless, we needed him to make a proper statement.’
‘Sorry, sir,’ Lucy said.
‘I understand you also broke another suspect’s fingers.’
‘That was an accident. I didn’t feel his hand beneath my boot until he cried out.’
‘You were asking the first suspect you arrested about taking fences off a child’s grave, apparently. I hope the two things aren’t connected.’
‘No sir,’ Lucy said, thinking back, trying to remember who had heard her asking Marcus about Mary’s grave. Then she remembered.
As she left Burns’s office, Tara sat at her desk in the incident room, watching her. When she saw Lucy, she raised her hand meekly. Lucy nodded curtly and left without speaking.
After leaving Strand Road station, Lucy had headed back to Maydown. Fleming was in his office at least, though with the door closed. Lucy considered knocking to ask how he was feeling, but decided against.
She’d just made it into her own office when her phone rang.
‘Dave Cooper here, Lucy. I think Bradley is about to go online.’
‘Is this some sixth sense, ESP thing?’
Cooper laughed. ‘No. He’s online already. Just not as himself. Come across and I’ll show you.’
Cooper’s office was as cluttered as it had been the day previous. The large iMac sitting on the main desk displayed Karen Hughes’s Facebook account profile.
‘I checked out Bradley’s account yesterday, tracing through all of the friends that he had, in case there were other girls there he was targeting,’ Cooper explained. ‘I have a feeling that a number of these friends are sock puppet accounts.’
Lucy shrugged. ‘What’s that mean?’
‘I think Bradley created a whole load of accounts, all in different names, which he then befriended.’
‘He made friends with himself? Why?’
‘To make him seem more normal.’
Lucy raised a sceptical eyebrow.
‘Look,’ Cooper said. ‘If he sent you a friend request, and he only had one or two other online mates, you’d think it a bit strange. If instead he has loads of friends, all your age, all with similar interests, he looks less suspicious.’
‘How do you know they’re sock puppets?’
‘A lot of the accounts either aren’t fully developed, or their content is repetitive, where the same message is being posted in fourteen or fifteen accounts almost in rotation. Look.’
He showed her Paul Bradley’s page. He’d posted a status update the previous Saturday saying ‘Saturday lie-in =)’.
‘See this,’ Cooper said. ‘Watch.’
He opened a second Facebook profile, this time for someone called ‘Liam Tyler’. ‘Look.’
On the previous Saturday, ‘Tyler’ had posted the same status update. A girl named Annie Marsden had attached a comment with a smiley face of her own.
‘You think “Tyler” is actually Paul Bradley?’
Cooper nodded. ‘If Paul Bradley is even his real name. That could simply be another alias.’
‘But one of his aliases has gone online?’
Cooper nodded. ‘“Simon Harris” went on about ten minutes ago. Watch.’
He pointed to a small pane in the lower half of the page, which listed online friends of Bradley’s. A green circle marked the name ‘Harris’. Suddenly the name vanished.
‘We’ve lost him again?’ Lucy asked.
‘Wait,’ Cooper said. ‘If I’m right, you’ll see one of these other names go live.’
Sure enough, a moment later, a green dot appeared next to the name ‘Tom Gallagher’. Cooper pointed to the screen. ‘That’s another of them.’
‘How many does he have in total?’
‘I think about twenty,’ Cooper said. ‘We need him to log in as Paul Bradley though; I’ve got Facebook to agree to give us Bradley’s ISP address when he next logs in. But we can’t ask for that for all of these accounts too unless we can prove they’re all the same person.’
‘I’ll update Burns anyway,’ Lucy said, going out of the unit and phoning through to CID. As she was explaining to Burns what Cooper had told her, Cooper himself appeared, barely able to contain his excitement.
‘They’ve been in touch. Bradley’s just gone online. I’ve reverse-checked the ISP address they’ve given us. It’s a restaurant in the Foyleside shopping centre.’
Chapter Seventeen
The Foyleside Centre was built in the early nineties, covering four floors and housing almost fifty different stores. Level four was little more than a central concourse with shops lining both sides. The two middle floors, however, were more open-plan, meaning that there were a variety of approaches and escape routes, should Bradley try to make a run for it. Fortunately for them, the Wi-Fi address they had been given belonged to the fast-food outlet on the uppermost floor.
The difficulty was that, although they had a picture of Bradley from his account page, there was no guarantee that the man in question would even look like his picture. They did, though, have the description from the metal theft gang, who’d seen a man with grey hair in the area where Karen’s body had been found.
All of this was explained to the team by Burns who briefed them in the back of the Land Rover on their way to the Foyleside. The rear of the Land Rover was stuffy, the benches on each side lined with members of one of the two Tactical Support Units accompanying the investigating team. The proximity of the bodies, and the vague smell of sweat generated by the boiler-suit type uniforms the of
ficers wore made it difficult for Lucy to concentrate on what Burns was saying. She wanted to get out and get moving.
‘Lucy and Tara go in together first. Get something to eat, scope the place out. We’re probably looking for a man, on his own, using a phone. Grey-haired particularly. Obviously if you recognize anyone on the Offenders Register let us know immediately. We’ll hold back on a full entrance until we have a target,’ Burns said, before turning to Mickey and the DC sitting next to him. ‘You two hang around outside; be ready in case anything goes down. We’ll post one TS Unit outside the main entrance and a second at the bottom of the stairs to the fourth floor. If he makes a run for it within the centre, they can close in on him from top and bottom floors.’
‘How come they get food and we have to window-shop?’ Mickey complained.
‘How many women only window-shop?’ Burns asked. ‘Besides, you’ve had a few too many dinners recently by the looks of you.’
The team erupted into laughter, the loudest of which belonged to Mickey himself, keen to ingratiate himself with the boss.
Lucy and Tara stepped out into the light mizzle of rain that seemed to hang perpetually over the city. Lucy glanced at the shoppers passing, arms laden with bags, looking forward to Christmas, blithely unaware that a possible child killer was sitting in their midst.
‘What do you fancy?’ Tara asked as they entered the Foyleside. ‘I’ll get the grub, you have a look around; you’ve a better idea of some of the weirdos out there through the PPU anyway.’
Lucy grunted, already scanning the area as they entered the central concourse. If the Wi-Fi signal was strong enough, there would be no need for Bradley even to sit inside the restaurant.
‘I’ll have a cheeseburger and Diet Coke,’ Lucy said. ‘I’ll grab a table near the door. That’ll give us a good chance to look around.’
As it transpired, that would prove difficult. The centre was heaving with people, burdened down with shopping, presumably trying to complete Christmas shopping. They could already see a queue for the fast-food place stretching out through the main doors.
Someone You Know Page 7
