by Jack Gatland
Jess grinned in return at this.
‘My daughter, Jessica,’ Declan introduced. ‘Jess, this is Sergeant Sweeney. You know the story about how I locked myself into a pair of handcuffs when I was a teenager? They were his.’
‘The key wouldn’t work,’ Sweeney explained. ‘We had to drive to Henley nick, pretend that Declan did it himself, and ask them to cut through with a hacksaw.’ He looked back at Declan. ‘Christ, it’s good to see you up and about,’ he replied. ‘We didn’t feel right about wandering around your house.’
Declan nodded at this. Sweeney was referring to the events of a week or so back when DI Frost had broken into his house, bringing in seemingly the entire Thames Valley uniformed contingent to hunt for Declan, who at the time was hiding in Patrick Walsh’s secret study.
‘Water under the bridge,’ he replied. ‘You were doing your job.’ A thought came to mind. ‘The poor bugger I hit with a plank,’ he continued. ‘Is he around? I probably need to apologise to him.’
‘Forey? Yeah, I think he’s about,’ Sweeney leaned closer to the window. ‘Between us, he’s a bit of an arrogant bastard. Better off licking his wounds.’ He looked at Jess. ‘Pardon my language.’
‘I’ve heard worse—‘ Jess started, but stopped at a glance from Declan. ‘I mean, I’ve never heard such language in my incredibly cloistered existence.’
‘She’ll go far,’ Sweeney said, tapping into the computer. ‘You here for a visit, or is there anyone in particular you want to see?’
‘Mark Freeman, if he’s about,’ Declan replied. Sweeney tapped into the phone and waited a moment.
‘DCI Freeman? Front desk. We’ve got DI Declan Walsh here, wanted to... Absolutely.’ He disconnected the call, looking at Declan. ‘You been here before?’
Declan shook his head, so Sweeney leaned back. ‘De’Geer!’ He shouted. ‘Get your scrawny arse to the main door!’
There was a moment of silence, and then the door beside the sergeant opened out to reveal a police constable who was far from scrawny. A tall, obviously muscled man with what looked to be some kind of Scandinavian heritage down the line, he looked like a Viking who’d had his beard trimmed, his hair cut and had then been given a uniform. Declan was sure that he’d seen him before, but couldn’t think where.
‘Sergeant?’ He asked, looking back to Sweeney through the glass.
‘Take DI Walsh up to DCI Sutcliffe, if you please,’ Sweeney replied. ‘And then look after his daughter while they talk. Take her for a tour of the station. She’ll be gunning for your job in a few years.’
Staring at the blond, bearded officer, Jess’s smile widened.
‘I’d like that,’ she said. ‘I’d like that very much.’
Declan wanted to refuse, to tell Sweeney that he’d rather an older, less attractive officer do that, but then realised that actually, having his daughter have a crush on a police officer was far better than the usual suspects that he saw hanging around her school on the few times that he’d picked her up.
As they walked through the back corridors, Declan finally stopped De’Geer.
‘Look, I’m sorry to ask, but have we met?’ He asked. ‘You’re really familiar, and no offence, but I think I’d recognise you.’
‘No, sir,’ De’Geer replied. ‘I only started here last year, straight from Hendon. I’m Morten De’Geer.’
‘Morten as in...’
‘Yes, as in a-ha.’
Declan didn’t comment on that, but something was still niggling...
‘You were in my house!’ He suddenly exclaimed. ‘You were knocking on doors and were the first responder, right? You spoke to Frost about the loft. I knew I recognised your voice!’
‘How did you know that?’ De’Geer’s expression was suspicious now as he watched Declan. ‘We searched everywhere. You weren’t there.’
‘You didn’t search everywhere,’ Jess muttered.
‘I’m superb at hiding,’ Declan continued. ‘You wouldn’t enter the house. I appreciate that.’
‘Thank you,’ De’Geer said, still confused by this. He pointed at a door to the right. ‘That’s Freeman’s office. Is there anywhere in particular your daughter would like to—‘
‘The morgue,’ Jess suggested eagerly.
‘Anywhere she can’t get into trouble,’ Declan smiled. ‘I shouldn’t be long.’
‘You can tell me all about Hendon,’ Jess said as they walked away. ‘Also, what do you bench?’
Declan sighed and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he opened the door and entered.
He’d never met DCI Freeman before. He’d been at Patrick’s funeral, but Declan hadn’t gone to the wake afterwards, so hadn’t spoken to him. Freeman was sitting at his desk when Declan entered the office; it was sparse, a little too sparse, nothing more than a small bookcase, a desk with chairs either side, a laptop and phone on it, and an uplighter in the corner. It gave the impression of an office where someone had just moved in, or was expecting to move out very soon.
‘Declan,’ Freeman shook Declan’s hand as he waved for him to sit. ‘How are you doing?’
‘Shoulder twinges still, but the doctors say it’ll take a few weeks to knit together.’
‘And the job?’ Declan knew that Freeman would have been told about the suspension. This was his polite way to ask if Declan was looking for a transfer.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not hitting you up for a reference,’ Declan smiled, trying to defuse an already awkward conversation. ‘I’m here on a semi-official basis.’
‘Oh yes?’ Freeman leaned forward. ‘Do tell.’
‘The Red Reaper.’
‘Oh Christ, Declan,’ Freeman moaned. ‘Not you as well? Is it some kind of bloody family curse?’
Declan shrugged. ‘Old friend suggested I should look into it while I’m off sick,’ he replied casually. ‘Heard about the body at the golf course, I’m guessing it’ll be classed as a suicide, like the others?’
‘For the moment,’ Freeman was more cautious now, realising that this wasn’t the casual catch up that he’d considered it to be. ‘There’s not a lot to go on.’
‘No leads?’
‘Not for murder, no.’
Declan considered this. ‘Who’s taking the case?’
‘Nobody,’ Freeman replied. ‘It’s a poisoned chalice, Declan. Your father tried for years to find the so-called killer, and if he couldn’t do it, then nobody can.’
‘I’m at a loose end at the moment,’ Declan continued. ‘Let me have a shot at it.’
This threw Freeman. ‘You want to work here?’ He asked. ‘I thought you were on injury leave, effectively suspended?’
‘From the City of London police,’ Declan nodded. ‘But not from the Thames Valley police.’
‘You want to be seconded here?’
‘No need. Just allow me to consult,’ Declan now leaned closer. ‘Look, we both know dad was fixated on this. And that it’s happened again within months of his death seems a little convenient. I’m wasting away in his house and could do with something to take my mind off it. Let me look into it.’
‘Alone?’
‘Maybe. Depends if anyone else is stupid enough to assist me,’ Declan smiled. ‘You can provide me with a liaison to the station. That De’Geer chap could do it.’
‘De’Geer’s an excellent choice, actually,’ Freeman was musing as he considered this. ‘Used to go out with Ellie Randall as a kid.’
‘Craig’s sister?’
‘Yeah. They were about the same age. Summer romance. I think it was what made him want to be a copper. Bloody idiot.’
There was a moment of silence.
‘You’re a loose cannon, Declan,’ Freeman finally admitted. ‘I heard the stories of your time in the SIS, told by your father. You have a reputation for killing your suspects. That’s if you’re not punching them out.’
‘That’s harsh,’ Declan protested. ‘The priest deserved it. Ford was corrupt. Derek Salmon killed himself, as
did Susan Devington. The Beachampton incident was because of a ton of gangsters trying to kill each other, and SCO 19 killed DI Frost after he shot me...’ he paused.
‘Yeah, okay, there’s a lot,’ he admitted. ‘But, if this is a serial killer, he’s a vicious, sadistic bastard and needs to be put down. And who’s better at doing that than me?’
Freeman looked out of the window, considering this for a moment.
‘Loose cannons escape their mountings,’ he said. ‘They fall out of the ships and sink to the bottom of the sea. I don’t want to see that happen to you, if only for your late father’s sake.’
Declan nodded. ‘I can’t promise I’ll be an A-student, but I’ll do my best. And if I can’t work it out, I’ll give it back and walk away,’ he replied. ‘It’s win-win for you. If we succeed, you take the credit for bringing it in. We fail? You never backed it. I also know from my dad’s notes that you believed these were suspicious as much as he did.’
He waited, let the moment stretch, letting Freeman warm to the idea before he continued.
‘So how about we go through what you have so far, and I go catch us a serial killer?’
6
The Game Is Afoot
It was half an hour later when De’Geer and Jess entered the briefing room to see Declan and Freeman sitting at a table, a selection of files distributed around them.
‘Good, you’re here,’ Freeman rose from the table, looking at De’Geer. ‘I’m putting you under DI Walsh’s remit for the moment. Do what he says, unless it’s bloody stupid.’ With that, Freeman nodded to Declan and left the room.
‘What’s this?’ Jess was already sitting at the table, working through the files. ‘What’s a Red Reaper?’
De’Geer stiffened at this. ‘You’re hunting the killer?’ he asked. Declan nodded at this.
‘You have a problem with that?’
’No,’ De’Geer stood beside the table but made no attempt to sit. ‘I was one of the first on scene at the golf club.’
‘And you knew Craig Randall,’ Declan added. ‘Back in 2012.’
‘I knew his sister,’ De’Geer corrected. ‘Craig just happened to be there. I was also twelve.’
‘Can you tell me what happened?’ Declan asked. De’Geer glanced nervously at Jess. ‘Don’t worry about her,’ Declan continued. ‘She’s been going through dad’s old records for weeks without telling me.’
Jess looked up, surprised at Declan’s knowledge of her surreptitious activities, as De’Geer finally relented and sat down.
‘My family moved here when I was about eight,’ De’Geer started. ‘We lived in Aldershot before that, and my father worked in a rare book shop in Henley Upon Thames. I didn’t know that many people, and I was already tall for my age, so I started hanging out in the campsite a mile up the road. It was an easier time back then. And children, especially ones on holiday, make friends quickly.’
Declan nodded at this. ‘I used to do the same thing,’ he admitted. ‘Probably before you were even born.’
‘That’s likely,’ Jess replied as she read through the files. ‘He’s in his twenties and you’re a hundred and two.’
‘We’re being professional right now,’ Declan chided. Jess looked up in horror.
‘Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,’ she apologised. ‘A hundred and two, Guv.’
‘Tell me about the Randalls,’ Declan ignored this.
‘Nothing to tell,’ De’Geer explained. ‘They were regulars. Came almost every weekend for years. I got to know Ellie, the daughter, when I was nine. Craig was twelve then, I think. He’d been coming to Hurley every summer for years. He would show us all the cool hiding places, or the best places to leap into the Thames. Kid stuff. But then by the time I was eleven, maybe twelve, he changed.’
‘How?’
‘He turned fifteen.’
‘Troubling age, fifteen,’ Declan watched Jess as he stated this. She smiled but kept reading.
‘Yeah,’ De’Geer, not getting the joke continued. ‘He was darker now. More vicious. He would help small children climb high into the trees near the campsite and then leave them. He’d take out tent pegs of other campers at night, or pour water onto sleeping bags when nobody watched.’
‘Sounds like a darling,’ Declan muttered. It wasn’t the word he really thought, but he was trying to be polite.
‘Everyone knew it was him, but they couldn’t prove it,’ De’Geer looked around the room as he tried to remember events of a decade earlier. ‘He started harassing girls at the campsite. He’d started doing it to locals, but some bigger boys had cottoned onto this and gave him a beating. The campsite girls were often new and didn’t have that sort of support. There was one; I can’t remember her name, but he really fell for her. Stopped any other boy talking to her and one night he tried to kiss her.’
’Did she kiss him back?’ Jess looked up now. De’Geer nodded.
‘He was attractive and confident. It was a holiday romance, nothing more. I was doing similar with Ellie by then, but it was different. We’d known each other for years then. We were best friends. To Craig, this girl, I think her name was Sheryl? She was a trophy. They fumbled around, played the part of a lovey couple all week long, but then near the end you could see that Craig realised that soon she’d leave. And he hadn’t had what he wanted.’
‘And what was—‘ Jess stopped as realisation took over. ‘Oh. That.’
‘He took her into the woods, and later on there was crying and shouting. I wasn’t there, but I heard that her father had gone looking for her and found her in tears. Craig had tried to make her… do things. She was fifteen. Eventually he’d shouted at her and left. The father then argued with Craig’s father, while Craig claimed that it was a misunderstanding and she’d come on to him… it was word against word. Nothing happened, and the next day her family left, never to return.’
‘What about the Randalls?’
‘They carried on for a couple more weeks; this was July now. But people talked, and everywhere the family went, they heard the insults, the rumours. Then, one Sunday afternoon, Craig was found dead. I never saw the family again. I never even said goodbye to Ellie.’
‘Do you think he did it?’ Declan asked. ‘The crime report states he cut his own throat.’
De’Geer shook his head. ‘Craig was too arrogant to be apologetic,’ he replied, going silent once he’d finished. Declan considered this for a moment.
‘So he had a reputation,’ he asked. De’Geer nodded in confirmation.
‘And this new body?’ Declan asked. ‘Nathanial Wing?’
‘I don’t know much about that case—‘ De’Geer started, but it was Jess that continued.
‘Sixteen years old, was doing an Art and Design diploma at Henley College,’ she said. ‘Worked part time as a web design intern in Henley while doing the course. I think they paid for the college. Found on the sixteenth green of Temple Golf Club with his wrists slit, but no sign of a blade.’ She looked up at Declan. ‘You think that’s why it was the sixteenth green? Because he was sixteen?’
‘It’s a possibility,’ Declan replied. ‘I’ll be having another look at the golf club with PC De’Geer here later, if that’s okay with him.’
De’Geer nodded. ‘If this is a killer, then he needs to be stopped.’
‘If this is a killer, then he knows his subjects,’ Declan continued. ‘To control someone to make them take their own life isn’t something you gain on a first appearance. We might need to have a look into the weeks leading up to each case.’
‘They’re not all local,’ Jess looked back at the sheets. ‘There're cases in London, in Reading, even Dover. They go on for years.’
‘And we’ll be looking into all of them,’ Declan insisted. ‘But first we need to ensure we have the capabilities to do this. I need to make some calls. PC De’Geer will take you home. I need to go to London.’
‘I’ve got a motorcycle,’ De’Geer replied. Jess grinned.
‘That’s totally f
ine. I’ll hold real tight.’
Declan sighed and, taking one last look at the table and the files, he rose from the desk.
‘Take the most recent folder with you,’ he suggested. ‘I have a feeling we’ll find copies of all the others in dad’s filing cabinet.’
Jess nodded, smiling at De’Geer with the look of a slightly hungry shark.
Declan almost felt sorry for the poor man.
The biggest problem that Anjli had with the Mile End secondment wasn’t that she disliked DCI Esposito, nor was it the fact that she was back at a place where she thought she’d finally moved on from; it was the simple fact that she wasn’t with the Last Chance Saloon. She’d only been there a few months in the grand scheme of things, but at the same time she’d gained more friendships and solid work connections there in that short time than she had anywhere else. And, as she sat at her desk scrolling through social media, she leaned back in her chair, wondering whether this was truly the career for her anymore. If the Temple Inn office didn’t open again, would she stay in the force? Or would she go corporate, like so many others would?
There was a ding in her email. Switching from the browser, she frowned as she looked at the message.
There was a temporary problem delivering your message to [email protected]
Why was there a problem? Anjli had used that email address countless times, and the only way it’d fail was if the email had changed, or if they’d deleted it. She couldn’t help herself, she actually chuckled at this.
The Cybercrime expert had a faulty email address.
Grabbing her phone, she sent a message to Billy, letting him know of the issue, and leaned back again, staring up at the ceiling.
She was bored.
There was movement at the door to the office, and Anjli looked up to see Declan entering carefully, as if expecting to be stopped at any moment. Which was probably likely, considering that the last time he was here, he’d caused the arrest of not only a Detective Constable but also the then Detective Chief Inspector.
