by Matt Brolly
Chapter Forty-Four
Amy had never seen such an expression on Nicole’s face before. Her skin was flushed, and the smile forming on her lips made her look much older. How long had she been talking to Jay? She’d left over ten minutes ago. Had she been with him all this time? Amy wasn’t sure if she was jealous or worried. With everything that had happened to Megan, she felt protective of her young friend. Yet, Jay’s appearance still had a visceral effect on her. She felt her own face flush red as her heartbeat sped like a giddy schoolgirl’s on her first date.
‘I found your friend outside,’ said Nicole, the movement of her eyes saying, why haven’t you told me about him before?
Jay held his hands up. ‘I wasn’t loitering, I promise,’ he said.
Amy dragged her gaze away from his perfect smile towards Nicole. ‘Thanks, Nicole. See you tomorrow,’ she said, worried she sounded too eager for her to depart.
‘Unless you want to join us?’ said Jay.
Nicole blushed again. Amy saw the indecision on her face. She knew the effect Jay could have on people so understood her reaction. ‘I think Nicole needs to get going, don’t you? Don’t want to be late for your parents.’
Amy regretted the parent jibe as soon as she’d said it. Subconsciously she was belittling her friend, highlighting her youth. Again she wondered if this was due to jealousy or protectiveness.
If Nicole was hurt by the comment she hid it well. ‘Nice to meet you,’ she said, head bowed to Jay.
‘And it was lovely to meet you, Nicole,’ said Jay, taking Nicole’s hand.
Nicole’s face flushed so red it looked as if she was about to pass out. Her innocent giddiness was so reminiscent of Megan that Amy had to fight the sob rising in her throat.
‘Come here,’ said Jay, softly, once Nicole had left.
His arms were held out in front of him and Amy slipped hers around his body as if she was coming home. She sunk into his warmth, the smell of citrus on his skin so familiar that she couldn’t remember a time without it. He held her, the strength of his body locking her in place. She closed her eyes as she recalled him holding Megan, the way her body shook as he guided her to the next world. Burying herself into his chest, Amy wondered what would happen if he increased the pressure of his grip. Would he be able to squeeze the life out of her? Would she struggle if he tried?
As if in answer, Jay let her go. ‘You weren’t at work today?’ he asked.
The question threw her. She’d never seen him at the café before and wondered why he would choose to visit her there now. ‘I didn’t feel up to it,’ she said, for the first time since he’d arrived noticing the small holdall he must have dropped by the door.
Jay turned to follow her eye line to the bag. When he looked at her, he wore the same innocent expression he always had when he wanted her to do something. ‘I was thinking maybe I could stay,’ he said. As if it were a question; as if she had a choice.
If he’d appeared there like this yesterday there would have been no hesitation – for so long, it had been all she’d longed for – but now the time had come she was tentative.
Jay moved back towards her, his hands held out in front of him. Amy frowned and reached for them, a surge of power rushing through her as he gripped her hands in his. ‘I know you must have your doubts, Amy,’ he said. ‘Especially after last night. Not everyone understands what we’re trying to achieve. Megan understood. She wanted me to be the one to guide her to the next level.’
Amy still didn’t know if the police had managed to get to Megan in time. She hadn’t dared to look at her phone since she’d switched it off. It was buried beneath a pile of clothes in the corner of the room. What would Jay say if he knew about the phone, about her call last night? What if he already knew? He always seemed to know everything before she did. Maybe that was why he was there, to punish her for trying to spoil his work.
‘You do understand, don’t you?’ said Jay.
Amy tried to control the tremor running through her body. Jay looked so genuine that it was impossible to doubt him. He’d never let her down before, and him being there must mean only one thing. It was her turn.
‘Great,’ said Jay. ‘How about we make some tea?’
All of Amy’s resolve disappeared as Jay removed his materials from the bag. She loved the way his face changed when he was working with his medicine. Whether it was the precise measurement of the tea, or the concentration he used when filling the syringe, his face always became other-worldly. She could see this was the most important thing in his life, superseded everything else; everyone else. She’d noticed it that first time, as he’d made the tea in his van, and even then she’d known that was in part what made him special.
‘We will make it a bit stronger tonight,’ he said. ‘In preparation.’
So this was to be it? This was the way it had happened with Megan. Did that mean it would be Amy’s turn next?
‘Loosen your clothes, lie on the couch,’ he said, his voice dropping an octave, resonating against the floorboards and windows, rushing through her bones and already soothing her.
She did as instructed, inhaling and exhaling as he’d taught her, preparing herself for the tea.
‘It’s ready,’ he said. She felt the tension in her body as his hand moved beneath her back, guiding her until she was sitting up straight. If Jay noticed, he didn’t mention it. He placed his nose to the brew and waited a heartbeat before handing it to her.
For a moment she was racked with indecision. She’d never felt this way with Jay before. She closed her eyes, picturing Megan struggling beneath Jay’s tight grip. He would never purposely harm her, would he?
‘Take it, Amy,’ said Jay, the bowl of tea still held out in front of him.
He must have noticed her indecision as she took the bowl from him. Her hands were shaking but there was no going back now. She fought the first wave of nausea as she downed the warm drink in one. The shock hit her as the vibrations rushed through her body. She felt it deeper this time than yesterday, Jay true to his word about the strength. Although she remained conscious of her body, she closed her eyes as another world played before her, a place of sharply defined colour and pattern. She was flying through this world of shapes, in and out, between and through the extraordinary geometries. Nothing else mattered, her thoughts and worries extinguished. She pushed through these figures, sensing what lay beyond, what she really wanted to see, while at the same time content to just be there, happy to surrender herself to this eternity of shape drifting.
Jay was gazing at her as she came back, his smile so compassionate she wanted to cry. The vibrations were fading but her skin was hypersensitive, the gentlest draught of air raising pimples on her skin. She couldn’t tell how much time had passed when she eventually spoke. ‘I’m ready,’ she said.
‘I know you are,’ said Jay, moving towards her and enveloping her once more in his arms.
Chapter Forty-Five
Tension seeped through Louise’s body as Thomas parked up. That she couldn’t shake her involuntary reaction to Finch’s presence angered her. If Thomas had noticed, he was keeping quiet. It wasn’t that unusual for someone from Portishead to make an appearance and Finch hadn’t shied away from Weston on Louise’s account. She knew he revelled in his status, liked to think his position in the MIT set him apart. The cheap trick of parking in her space was nothing new. What troubled her more was Finch turning up again now that the case was growing in importance. She pictured him in the office, worming his way into the investigation, making subtle comments on the current inadequacies of their approach.
She wasn’t surprised to see him chatting to Simone in the CID office. Simone struggled to conceal her attraction to him every time he visited. She was stroking her hair now, leaning into Finch as he told her something supposedly hilarious.
Louise heard a greeting from behind her. ‘Hey, boss.’ Finch looked over as she turned to face the source of the welcome.
‘Greg. Nice to see you.
Fleeting visit or you back for good?’
Farrell was his usual impeccably dressed self, his hair gelled into a neat parting, the shine on his polished shoes matching the gleam of his teeth. ‘Fleeting visit, I’m afraid. I’m here with DCI Finch,’ he said, a hint of apology in his voice.
‘Everything okay?’
‘Yeah, it’s all going really well.’
‘That’s great to hear, Greg, it really is.’
‘Louise, how are you?’ said Finch, leaving Simone to talk to herself as he joined them.
‘Tim,’ said Louise, resisting the urge to call him Timothy in front of Farrell.
‘Your boy here is doing wonders at HQ. You did well keeping him this long.’
Louise ignored the barely concealed insult both in the patronising way he praised her, and the obviously desultory comparison of her workplace in Weston to MIT; not that she could deny the latter.
‘If you’ve got a second, Robbo would like a word with both of us,’ added Finch, after the lingering silence.
I bet he does, thought Louise. ‘I’ll be there in five,’ she said, as Finch returned to Simone.
‘Looks like you’ll be leaving us then?’ Louise said to Farrell.
‘He’s made a request to transfer me for the next year.’
‘I see. Look, I’ll be sad to see you go. I’d rather you stayed but I can see the attraction of the big city.’
‘Thanks, boss. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. And—’
‘Just look after yourself, DS Farrell. I think you know what I mean.’
‘Ma’am,’ said Farrell.
She didn’t put up a fight. She’d presumed Farrell would leave for good as soon as he’d accepted the secondment, though she hadn’t expected it to come this fast. Farrell was aware of what had gone down between her and Finch, and at the moment she believed he’d yet to fully fall under Finch’s spell. She accepted Finch’s false gratitude as she signed off on Farrell’s transfer, and even stood as Finch departed the office.
‘Well, that went smoother than I’d anticipated,’ said Robertson, once Finch had left.
The smell of Finch lingered in the office and not for the first time, Louise wondered how she’d ever been intimate with the man. How she’d let him hoodwink her. ‘I’m not going to let my personal differences get in the way of Greg’s career, Iain. He deserves it and for once I don’t think Finch is doing it to get at me.’
Robertson placed his hands together. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t mention that Finch has also offered us his help on this possible multiple-murder case then?’
‘No, don’t mention that, Iain.’
‘I anticipated that correctly at least. I told him as much, but we may need to use MIT if things escalate.’
‘I can let you know when we get to that stage, sir.’
‘Make sure you do.’
Robertson and Farrell had left by the time she returned to the outer office. Thomas clicked his fingers. ‘Gone like that,’ he said.
‘You’ll probably be next,’ said Louise. ‘In fact, that should have been you.’
‘Not for me, boss. I’m Weston through and through.’
‘Good, you keep it that way.’
‘Call for you, Louise,’ said Simone, from across the office.
‘DI Blackwell,’ said Louise, picking up the phone from Thomas’s desk.
‘Louise, it’s Alice Everson. We received another hair sample this morning. Sent over by Stephen Dempsey. For a Megan Davies.’
‘Stephen’s been a busy boy.’
‘Yes. So have we, actually. Mark – Dr Forrest – told me you’d called him. So when I saw this come through I took the liberty of rushing through a test. It’s come back positive. Like the other three, Megan Davies had significant traces of DMT in her hair.’
‘Was the measurement the same?’
‘Similar. Obviously the sample came to us immediately so it was a fresher result. I’ll email you the details. I hope it aids your investigation.’
‘Thank you. Unfortunately, I think it will.’
Louise told Robertson. She could see the energy drain from him as she spoke, his hand moving towards his chin until it rested there, propping him up. ‘This all confirms the four women are connected?’ he said, through the muffle of his palm.
‘Yes and I think we have to treat all four as potential murder victims.’
‘At least we’ll no longer be known as Suicide by Sea,’ said Robertson. ‘What do you need from me?’
Louise had already anticipated the question. ‘We have a patrol car watching Chappell’s place. I think we should apply for a warrant to search the premises.’
‘He’s not at home?’
‘Not since early afternoon.’
Robertson whistled through his teeth. ‘I can see how he could be a suspect. Can we link him with anyone other than Sally Kennedy?’
‘Not directly, not yet, but he knew about the DMT and was with Sally just before she died. Too much of a coincidence for me – I’m sure we could persuade a judge the same.’
‘By “we”, you mean me?’
‘Sir.’
‘And this Amy character?’
‘Her I’m not so sure about. She could be in danger, could be in cahoots with Chappell.’
‘Let’s see if we can locate her, shall we? I’ll sort this warrant out. Send Simone in.’
Seconds after Louise instructed Simone to go and see Robertson, another familiar face turned up. ‘Tracey?’ said Louise.
It was clear Tracey was lacking her usual bonhomie. Louise’s first thoughts were that something had happened with Finch, possibly due to Farrell’s transfer.
‘Let’s go somewhere private,’ said Tracey.
Louise looked around the office, the prying eyes returning to their work.
‘What is it?’ she mouthed, as they reached one of the interview rooms.
Tracey squirmed and muttered under her breath. ‘It’s about Paul.’
Chapter Forty-Six
Louise shut the blinds, the eyes of the office on her. She wondered if this was how suspects felt as they waited to be questioned. Her pulse was rising. She sat, her breathing audible in the small room as numerous scenarios, each more gruesome and devastating than the last, played through her mind. ‘What is it, Tracey?’ she asked. She wanted to ask so many questions but let Tracey speak.
‘I’ve been digging around. I’m afraid Paul has got himself into a lot more trouble than you may have thought.’
‘What sort of trouble?’
‘The gambling kind.’
‘What does that mean exactly, Trace?’
‘I don’t know the exact figure but it’s significant.’
‘Jesus. So I was right. Do you know who he owes the money to?’
‘I think the Mannings are only an intermediary but they’re taking responsibility for him. Unless he’s got the money, Lou, I’m not sure he can safely return to Bristol.’
Louise sat down, the office swirling around her. She wanted to ask herself how he could be so stupid but in truth she wasn’t that surprised. It wasn’t that which was making her nauseous. What she didn’t understand was why he would risk involving Emily. ‘Of all the selfish things he’s done,’ she said, shaking her head.
‘I don’t know what to suggest, other than try and find him which we’re already doing.’
‘I’ll kill him myself if I find him.’
‘Do you want to make it official? If you think Emily is in danger . . .’
Louise knew she had to think about Emily now. If they were reported as missing people and they were found, Paul would be in danger as soon as he left the police station. But escalating it to a missing-person scenario probably wouldn’t make much difference. Paul had told Louise and his family he was on holiday. He’d called and sent a postcard. The schools were still on break so he wasn’t doing anything wrong on that account. If a civilian had come to her with the same predicament, there wouldn’t be much she could have don
e. The danger posed to Paul from whoever he owed money to was hypothetical at the moment.
‘I’ll speak to Sergeant Merrick again but I can’t see any point escalating it at the moment.’
‘I thought not,’ said Tracey. ‘Listen, I’ll do everything I can. Find out who exactly he owes money to. We’ll get this sorted.’
‘Thanks, Tracey.’
‘I know it’s the last thing you need at the moment.’
‘You can say that again. Did you see Finch when you arrived?’
‘I saw him leaving the car park. Don’t think he spotted me. What was he doing here?’
‘Farrell is going permanent with you guys. At least for the next year.’
‘That’s good,’ said Tracey. ‘For us, I mean.’
Louise told her about the developments in the case.
‘I’ve read about that DMT stuff. It’s supposedly a bit like dying, isn’t it?’
‘People are dying at the moment, that’s the issue.’
‘You think this Chappell is drugging and killing them?’
‘There’s something about him. If we hadn’t spotted him with Sally Kennedy he wouldn’t even be on our radar. But that, his knowledge of DMT, and the fact he is currently AWOL makes me think he’s involved.’
‘Well, look, let me know if I can help in any way. Finch has his golden boy at the moment so he’s off my back. In the meantime, I’ll focus all my attention on Paul and Emily.’
‘Thanks, Tracey. I really appreciate it,’ said Louise. They stood and hugged, the smell of nicotine and perfume on Tracey oddly comforting.
‘Right, better get back to it. Don’t want the minions talking any more than usual,’ said Louise, opening the blinds.
Overtime was authorised for a select number of uniformed officers as they waited until the early evening for the warrant to be issued, Louise thankful that Robertson didn’t make a comment when she received his signature for permission. She had spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between calling Paul and the woman she now knew as Amy. If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result, then madness is close at hand, she thought.
