Degrees of Darkness

by Tony J. Forder

  ‘She’s dead,’ Frank insisted.

  ‘So you say. But what if you’re wrong? You can’t be sure, can you? You can’t be sure about anything where I am concerned. What if she is counting down to her terminal breath even as we speak? You may yet be in time to save her.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I think this is all just part of your squalid little game.’

  ‘But thinking isn’t the same as knowing, is it? And you can’t risk being wrong about this. And believe me, when I play games they are neither squalid nor insignificant. So, hurry now. Hurry, for Geraldine’s sake. You and all your busy, busy comrades in arms.’

  And then he told Frank where to find her.

  28

  There were no candles or bunting this time, no crucifixion, no bone dust. The abandoned building, once a haven for DIY enthusiasts, had been gutted of all fittings, leaving only the utilities intact. The power had long since been turned off, so portable floodlights, powered by generators, lit the scene. Dust swirled in bright arcs, and the shadows held their secrets close.

  The derelict superstore formed part of an entire block of similar units just off London’s North Circular road, each left to die when the land was purchased in order to make way for an estate of executive-style homes. The new landowners, perhaps rethinking their strategy in this busy part of Edmonton, decided to sit on their investment instead. The streets around the block were now usually deserted, disturbed mainly by youths looking to dump and burn out stolen vehicles.

  The girl, who would have entered her teens three weeks before, was in a somewhat better condition than Jeanette Morris. She was still quite dead, but this time there were no obvious signs of torture, mutilation or post-mortem wounds. Her flesh, however, had the same quality, texture and appearance. Beyond the ruin of her cadaverous features was a face that had known both terror and immense pain. These two dark angels had visited her, and had not been kind.

  Frank was staring down at her body when his chain of thought was interrupted by Warren Capel. ‘Do you think he’s slipping?’ Capel asked. ‘I mean, leaving her in another abandoned building just a few miles or so from where he left the Morris kid points to him being a local.’

  ‘It suggests nothing of the kind.’ Frank’s response was bitter. He felt helpless. Helpless and afraid. ‘It could be that he merely passes through this way on a regular basis. But I don’t even think it’s that.’

  ‘But he’s established a pattern,’ Capel countered.

  ‘Right. A pattern he really would like us to buy.’

  ‘Superintendent Foster thinks the way I do. That the man has local knowledge.’

  Frank turned to the younger man. Once he would have withered Capel with a glare. Now he no longer had it in him. He simply shook his head and said, ‘You and Foster buy what you like, but leave me out. The fact is that both sites can be seen from the main roads, and it’s quite obvious that they are disused. This man is far too clever to do something so obvious. Warren, you were a good copper once, your own man. Don’t be taken in by Foster. He may carry you along on the ladder of promotion, but he’ll also drag you down into the mediocrity he wallows in. You’re better than that. Or, you once were.’

  Heat rushed to Capel’s cheeks. Even in the dim light that leaked across from the floods, Frank could see the man’s burning embarrassment.

  ‘Warren,’ he said more kindly. ‘The man we’re after is not the genius he claims to be, but he is clever. Yes, he is establishing a pattern here, but not one we should be interested in. Leaving the bodies here tells me he doesn’t live anywhere close by. He only wants us to think he does, or to at least consider it. He wants us to search for him here, run a door-to-door inquiry. It wastes a little more time, that’s all. All part of his game.’

  For a moment, he felt Capel’s scrutiny. Then the young sergeant drew himself upright and turned away. Over his shoulder he said, ‘Now I can see why you were collecting debts, Frank. You should go back to it. It’s probably what you’re best at.’

  ‘Warren,’ Frank called out.

  Capel turned, his hands balled into fists, expecting to be challenged.

  Frank smiled. ‘Be careful out there.’

  Capel took a breath and relaxed, shook his head and moved closer once more. ‘What is it with you and Foster, Frank? He’s a decent super. Why is there so much animosity between you two?’

  Frank closed the gap between them in three easy strides. He yanked his thin denim shirt out of his trousers and pulled it up to his chest. Three scars ran across his abdomen in the shape of the letter K.

  ‘This is why,’ he said. ‘Around seven or eight years ago, Foster and I were working on a case together. We tracked down a couple of real nasty bastards, followed them to an abandoned lockup in Leyton beneath the railway arches. We split up. I got jumped, but I managed to call out. I got cracked on the head with a crowbar and I went down. My head was still spinning and I was only halfway conscious when one of the bastards carved his initial on my stomach with an eight-inch machete. They were both laughing as he cut me. I was screaming like a stuck pig. For good measure, they gave me a couple of hefty kicks with their Doc Martens, then they ran. I was left holding my guts in both hands. And Foster…he was standing about twenty yards away, watching every moment. He didn’t even try to help me.’

  Capel’s eyes were wide in disbelief. ‘You’re certain Foster saw all this?’

  ‘Of course. It’s not the kind of thing you have doubts about. He knew I saw him, too. He came to the hospital a day or two after I’d got out of intensive care. He said he was sorry. Then he begged me not to tell anyone. I told him where he could shove his apology.’

  ‘But what happened after? After you reported him?’

  Frank’s smile was thin and thoughtful. ‘I didn’t. He was the up-and-coming wonder boy, the man with the golden gonads. I was the black sheep. My guv’nor would have believed me, but most at his rank or above wouldn’t have. So, when I got out of hospital, I repaid Foster my own way.’

  ‘You gave him a hiding.’

  ‘Oh, yes. I gave him some bruises, a broken nose, and loosened a few of his pearly-whites. It was immature, but it made me feel just a bit better. But he’s a louse in so many other ways. He’s a parasite. He’ll feed off your good work, Warren. That’s why I told you to be careful.’

  Capel gave a sheepish grin. ‘Thanks. Maybe I need to rethink a few things. And … I’m sorry. You know, for what I said.’

  ‘Yeah. I know. But maybe you were right.’

  ‘No. It’s this damned case … seeing the poor kid like that.’ He held out a hand.

  Frank shook it. ‘Just watch your back.’

  As Capel walked away, Nicky wandered over, oblivious to the exchange. ‘Strange one this,’ he said, indicating the girl’s corpse. ‘You’d think he would have cut her about even more than the first. He got a taste for it last time. You’d think he’d want more of the same, but there’s no sign of escalation.’

  Frank nodded. ‘That’s exactly what was running through my mind. Maybe he’s just getting better at whatever he’s trying to do. On the phone, he said he’d made a mistake with the first one. That must have been in letting anger get the better of him. She wasn’t right, so he took his frustrations out on her.’

  ‘So how does that explain what he did when he dumped her body?’

  ‘Oh, he did that to get our attention. And because he could.’

  ‘But what wasn’t she right for?’

  Frank shook his head. His eyes were desperate. ‘That’s what we have to find out, and find out quickly. Two down, Nicky. If he sticks to the pattern, there are only four to go before Laura.’

  29

  Frank and Debbie were sitting down to dinner when Nicky arrived unexpectedly. Debbie had fetched some clothes from her small flat in Snaresbrook, then returned to Frank’s house, and was there to greet him when he arrived home, insisting that she cook, that he eat a proper meal for the first time that week. He was not strong enou
gh to argue, nor was he inclined to. The food was good, her presence beside him even better. It was hard carrying on with life, with Laura never far from his thoughts, but he knew that not looking after himself would solve absolutely nothing.

  As soon as Frank opened the door to his friend he knew that something was wrong. He felt himself go instantly cold.

  ‘Don’t worry, mate, it’s not what you think,’ Nicky said hurriedly.

  Frank found his breath. ‘You’d better come in.’

  When Nicky saw Debbie in the dining room, the half-eaten meal, uncorked bottles of wine, and Debbie looking as if she’d spent several hours choosing what to wear, he immediately apologised and turned to leave. But Frank put out a hand.

  ‘If it was important enough to drag you here, then it’s important enough for you to stay.’

  Debbie agreed. ‘Do you want me to make myself scarce?’

  ‘No.’ Frank shook his head. ‘Whatever it is I’d only tell you anyway.’

  She gave him a grateful smile, pulled out a chair for Nicky, and fetched him a glass. ‘Have you eaten?’ she asked. ‘We can stretch what’s left to three.’

  ‘No, thanks.’ Nicky sat down heavily. ‘I’m going out to dinner with a few of the lads.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Positive. Some wine will be great, though.’

  He poured himself some Jacob’s Creek Chardonnay, took a couple of sips, then turned his gaze to Frank. ‘I thought you needed to know why Foster spent less than ten minutes at the murder scene earlier.’

  Frank took some of his own drink. He blinked over the rim of the fluted glass. ‘I’m not going to like this, am I?’

  ‘No. You’re not going to like it at all. All I ask is that you hear me out before you explode.’

  Frank put his head back and rolled his eyes. ‘What has that prick been up to now?’

  ‘You guessed right, it is one of Foster’s stunts. The second call that came in … I’m sorry, Frank, but Foster went behind our backs. He’d arranged to have a trace put on any call coming in on that line.’

  ‘A trace!’ Frank slammed the glass down onto the table, spilling the contents. As he got to his feet he felt a vein in the centre of his forehead begin to pulse. ‘But he heard what that crazy fucker said. He knew what it could mean.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, he did. But he went and traced it anyway. I swear I didn’t know, Frank.’

  ‘I realise that. God, Nicky, you don’t have to justify yourself to me.’ He took a few deep breaths, calming himself sufficiently to ask, ‘So what happened?’

  ‘The trace itself was no good. Our man is using a mobile phone. They can only be traced to a large cell location within a grid unless GPS is functional. Foster got a team working on it, however. There is no GPS to activate remotely, so it’s probably an old device. They did, however find out what address the phone is billed to. Foster went straight there. A glory run, I think, looking to close the investigation and get himself another gold star. It turned out to be an office space. Rented out to a Mr Black. It’s one of those complexes where you can lease space, a separate phone line, mail drop, that sort of thing.’

  Frank was nodding. ‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’

  ‘From the owners, Foster was able to establish the following: the office and line have been leased to Mr Black for the past nine months. The arrangements were made over the phone, the quarterly bill paid in cash via a hand-delivered envelope. No one has ever seen Black. The phone line is rented by the company, and they charge Black for calls and the line itself. It’s a hiding place for small and often shady businesses, but it’s not illegal.’

  ‘In other words, we can’t trace him any further than that.’ Frank shook his head slowly. ‘He might be a warped, sick bastard, but he is clever. Too damned clever for my liking.’

  ‘The company who run the complex have been asked to continue leasing both the office and the phone line. They were reluctant, but the persuasion wasn’t too gentle. There shouldn’t be any repercussions because of Foster’s interference. Our man need never know the call was traced.’

  ‘The stupid, vengeful bastard. Foster did that simply to get back at me for showing him up. He put my daughter’s life at risk just to boost his fucking ego.’

  Debbie reached out a hand, her fingers linking with his. ‘Easy, Frank. It’s over with now. Nothing came of it, so no damage done.’

  ‘We can’t be sure of that. This guy may actually have a way of knowing his call was traced. It may yet come back to haunt us.’

  ‘Well, there’s nothing we can do about that. It happened. It’s history.’

  Nicky’s eyes were drawn to their interlocked hands. He raised his eyebrows, smiling. Debbie smiled back. ‘We’re something of an item,’ she admitted.

  ‘Good for you,’ Nicky said, nodding approvingly. ‘Bloody good. Now perhaps someone can keep him on the straight and narrow.’

  Frank glared at them both. ‘You’re not putting me off. That bastard Foster will pay for what he did.’

  ‘Just leave it be, Frank,’ Nicky said. ‘What’s the point in antagonising the situation all the more? Believe me, when he puts in his report, he’ll be hauled over the coals by the chief super. Your insistence for no traces went on record. Foster went against your wishes, complained about your threat, but more importantly he went against the best interests of the investigation this time. He’ll pay.’

  Frank gave a wry grin. ‘Nicky, that tosser will worm his way out of it somehow. He’ll say I gave the go-ahead verbally, or something along those lines. But don’t you see? I have to get him stopped. Next time we may not be so lucky. Supposing our man uses another phone, one that can be traced? What then?’

  Nicky considered this for a while. He drained his glass. Finally, he said, ‘Let me handle it. I’ll go to the chief super and tell him exactly what happened. Let him decide.’

  Frank shook his head. ‘No. No way. You can’t do that. You go over his head and Foster will finish you.’

  ‘You’re forgetting one thing. I have an extremely influential friend.’

  ‘Who?’

  Nicky grinned. ‘You. You’re highly thought of by the chief super. He won’t let Foster walk all over me. But if you steam in there now, kicking up a storm, he and the other brass might just consider you to be too emotional, and throw you off the case completely.’

  Debbie stroked the back of Frank’s hand. ‘Listen to him. Nicky’s right. Don’t make waves. After, when it’s all over, do what you want. Chin the bastard for me if you like. But now isn’t the right time.’

  Frank looked between them again. He blew out his cheeks. ‘The voices of reason,’ he growled. ‘Why the hell do they have to plague me?’

  Nicky pushed his glass across for a refill. ‘The post-mortem result on the McGiven girl should be in tomorrow afternoon, Sunday at the latest. I’ll let you know as soon as I see it. The girl’s grandparents are coming down to identify the body … if they can.’

  ‘If it’s her.’ Frank surprised himself, the words spilling from his lips unchecked. He shrugged at Nicky’s curious glance. ‘The way this sicko likes to play games I wouldn’t bet on it.’

  ‘I never considered that,’ Nicky said, shaking his head. ‘Damn it! I should have done more to confirm her identity before we notified them.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. I only thought of it just then. The girls look so similar it would be easy enough to make a mistake. I know these people coming down for the ID are family, but be careful with them. Make sure they’re absolutely certain. We don’t want to go burying the wrong girl.’

  ‘Right. Thanks for that.’

  ‘Where are they coming from?’

  ‘Fleetwood. They lived just a few minutes from where she was taken in Blackpool.’

  Frank sat back down at the table, the remainder of his meal untouched and unwanted. The room seemed to have grown dark during the conversation. Colder, too.

  ‘Blackpool. London. Hove. Peterborough. He certainly gets
around. You know, if he keeps these kids so long he must have a big place somewhere off the beaten track. I was thinking of a farm, holding them in a barn or something like that.’

  ‘Why a farm?’ Debbie wanted to know. It was the first time she had asked him anything about the investigation, other than how the search for Laura was progressing.

  ‘In part because of the formaldehyde. We once had a DC whose brother was a farmer, and I seem to remember him telling me that some farmers use it to disinfect certain areas. It fits. He’d need somewhere isolated, so that he could take the girls in, bring the bodies out, without being seen or heard.’

  ‘It’s a good thought,’ Nicky agreed. ‘I wouldn’t mind betting you’ve hit the nail on the head there. It does fit. Better than any place I can think of right now.’

  ‘Not that it’s of any help to us at the moment. Still, it’s something to mull over.’

  ‘Any more thoughts about Tania Penny?’ Nicky asked, draining his glass.

  ‘One or two. I tried contacting her earlier, but got no joy. I’m going up to see her as soon as I can arrange it.’ He explained to Debbie about Samantha Penny’s sister. She agreed it would be a good idea to see the young woman, ask a few more questions, bearing in mind the fresh information they had.

  Nicky left soon after. Debbie washed the dishes, Frank dried and put away. They were silent minutes, both lost in thought. When they were done, Debbie pulled him into her arms. They held one another for some time, breathing as one person, before moving to the bedroom. As Friday eased into Saturday, they made love with a slow and easy passion that took their breath away. It was a balm to their wounds; wounds still open and fresh and ready to weep again. But for those few tender and precious moments in time, each was able to cast doubt and worry from their minds. Fear may have lingered a little longer, but it, too, was soon lost to the moment.

  30

  Frank’s study was small and cluttered. It smelled of musty files, stale air trapped since the winter months, nervous sweat, cheap cologne, Scotch. It was 7.30 am Frank had come downstairs around four, sleep having eluded him yet again. The heat of the previous day remained, and he wore only boxer shorts. He felt exhausted, eyes gritty, mouth as dry as the bottle of Bells by his elbow. In front of him lay a sheet of paper, notes and scribbles and scattered thoughts spread across it. He tried to make sense of the scrawl, but failed miserably. His eyes refused to focus, his head hammered. There was so little to go on, and time was now the most uncompromising of enemies.