by Helen Phifer
Tom led him away from the various officers, paramedics and onlookers who had started to gather. ‘I need to know she’s OK with this, because between you and me, I’m worried that it’s all too soon and that we’re pushing her too hard.’
Mattie nodded. ‘Well, why don’t you ask her yourself? Because she’s going to have a shit fit if she thinks we’ve been talking about her.’
‘I would if I thought for one minute that she was going to give me a truthful answer,’ Tom replied. ‘We can’t keep this case under wraps any longer; the press are all over it, members of the public are already well aware. Tomorrow it’s going to break, and you know what the headlines are going to be, don’t you?’
‘I can hazard a guess,’ Mattie said. ‘Something about incompetent cops letting a killer strike again?’
‘I’m going to call Browning out to help you and Lucy. He can shoulder some of the burden.’
Mattie thought that he might as well hand his badge in right now, because Lucy was going to kill him. And the idea of working on a big case with Browning… That was the thing he woke up in the middle of the night with cold sweats about.
He didn’t realise Lucy had got out of the car until she stepped in front of Tom.
‘Forgive me if I’m wrong,’ she said, ‘but did I just hear you say you were bringing Browning in to take over?’
‘Not to take over,’ Tom corrected her. ‘I just think you could do with a hand. It’s a big enough case running a single murder – but four? Well, anyone would struggle. I’m going to assemble a task force, and it will be run by both you and Browning. He will take some of the pressure off.’
Lucy twisted around to stare at Mattie and he knew she was fuming with him. Bloody Tom, he thought. Sticking his nose in, pretending he gave a shit about Lucy, when really all he cared about was how big an impact the whole thing was going to have on the force.
‘Well that’s nice,’ Lucy said, ‘and I do appreciate your concern, I really do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a murderer to catch – and that’s not going to happen if we stand around pretending to be nice to each other, is it?’
* * *
Lucy walked over to where Catherine was signing herself into the scene. Catherine pulled her mask down.
‘Lucy, I think we need a little talk. Can you meet me at my office when I’ve finished here please?’
‘Yes, I can,’ she said, bitterly. ‘Seeing as how I won’t be needed here much longer.’
Catherine tilted her head. ‘And why is that?’
‘They’re calling Browning in to assist me.’
Catherine groaned. ‘Well, it’s you I want to speak to, so make sure you come alone.’
Lucy felt a little better. Catherine wouldn’t let her be pushed out of the loop – which was exactly what would happen if Tom got his way.
Mattie came over to her and whispered, ‘Sorry.’
She ignored him, deciding she was going to head back to the station to try and get hold of a forensic artist who could draw up an image of what they thought Lizzy would look like now. Then she stopped: there was a problem with that. She didn’t have a photograph of Lizzy Clements. She hadn’t noticed any in the Clements’ house, either – although it was unlikely they would have kept a photograph of her on display, under the circumstances. Perhaps they had some hidden away.
She went to the CSI van and began to dress herself to go back into the crime scene. She hoped she wouldn’t need to go where the bodies were. She wanted to try looking in Lizzy’s room first, because it looked as if nothing had been touched in there since the day she’d been taken away.
She signed herself back into the scene and was greeted by Jack, who was coming out with his camera. He took one look at Lucy and put his hands on his hips.
‘I told you, this town was lovely and peaceful until you came back to work. And I’d rather you didn’t go back in the house until I’ve finished.’
‘I need to,’ Lucy said. ‘It’s really important. I don’t need to go near the bodies, I just need to check out the spare bedroom. I know where to step, Jack; it was me who called it in.’
Jack looked over to where the DCI was leaning on his car bonnet, talking on his phone.
‘Be quick, then,’ he said. ‘He’s not coming in and trampling everything like he usually does. I still haven’t forgotten the time he was SIO and ordered me to wait outside until he’d finished having a stroll around the fucking crime scene.’
‘Thanks, Jack. I promise I’ll be quick.’
* * *
Mattie watched Lucy slip back inside the house; he didn’t have a clue what she was doing, but he was keeping out of it. Christ, could this day get any shittier?
Another car pulled up, and Mattie saw the familiar bulk that was Browning, hauling himself out. Relief washed over him: the chief must have already told him to come here before the conversation they’d had about Lucy, or how else would he have got here so fast? Now he didn’t feel so bad.
Jack, who was getting some more evidence bags out of his van, looked up.
‘You lot are seriously having a laugh. What the fuck is he doing here now? Have you never heard the saying “too many cooks spoil the broth”?’
‘Anyone would think that you didn’t like the guy.’
‘I don’t. He’s a lazy bastard who comes in last minute and takes all the credit. Poor Lucy.’
Mattie saw Lucy appear at the front door now, and did his best to distract Browning so he didn’t know that she’d been back inside. She waited until Browning had moved off, then came to the side of the CSI van. Jack handed her a large brown paper sack to put her protective clothing in. She pulled a clear plastic evidence bag out from inside her suit and passed it to Mattie. It was a grainy coloured photograph of what was presumably the young Lizzy Clements. She had a huge cheesy grin and no front teeth. He passed it back to Lucy, who sealed the bag and wrote her name and rank on it.
‘I need this photograph to take some copies,’ Lucy said. ‘Then you can have it, even though it isn’t really part of the scene. I had to search through a built-in cupboard in the spare bedroom to find that.’
‘Did you make a mess?’
‘As if I would. You can’t even tell that I’ve been inside.’
‘Good girl.’
Jack went back to the house, where he was approached by Browning, who was grinning at Mattie and Lucy as if it was all some huge joke. Mattie ignored him, but he noticed that Lucy gave him the finger. She just couldn’t help herself.
41
As they drove away, Mattie asked, ‘What was that about?’
‘Nothing,’ Lucy said. ‘I can’t believe you grassed me up to Tom – and now look what’s happened.’
‘Firstly, Browning got here far too quickly. Tom must have already decided to bring him on board. Secondly, I didn’t grass you up. He asked me if you were OK, and to be honest, I’m worried about you. It’s not a crime to care about someone.’
She glared at him. ‘Oh please; you’ll have me crying with gratitude next. Look, Mattie, I don’t care what it takes, I’m going to prove to them that Lizzy Clements is the killer and I’m going to be the one to find her and arrest her. Every piece of evidence points towards her. The fact that she was dumped in the hospital for killing her baby brother is a big start. Then she either suffered some kind of abuse, or something happened whilst she was in that hospital that made her plan out her revenge on Edwin Wilkes and Audrey Stone. She must have hated her parents for leaving her in there, and they are now dead. The only thing I can’t understand is where Lauren Coates comes into it, but I will.’
Her phone began to ring in her pocket and she handed it to Mattie, who clicked it on to speakerphone and answered it.
‘Hi, Ellie, your mum is driving at the minute. Can I pass on a message or get her to ring you back?’
‘Hi, Mattie! When you say driving, do you mean driving you mad?’
‘Well, yes. I suppose you could say that.’
Lucy g
lared at him as Ellie laughed. ‘It’s OK, I just wanted to ask her if she wanted to come into my work after so I could make her a coffee. You as well, if you like.’
Lucy felt one of the tight knots in her stomach release and she let out a sigh. At least one of her problems had eased a little.
‘Well, that’s an offer we can’t refuse,’ Mattie said. ‘What time?’
‘Any time after three; it’s quieter then. Oh, and your aunt Alice said to tell you hello. She was telling me all about her wonderful nephew who was a policeman and I realised it was you.’
Mattie laughed. ‘Well I never, it’s a small world. See you after three, then.’ Ellie ended the call and Mattie looked at Lucy. ‘So Ellie’s working at the new café on the retail park?’
‘Yep,’ Lucy said.
‘That’s the one Alice is working at; Ellie’ll be all right with her. Maybe Alice has already taken her to one side and given her a bit of a talking-to.’
Lucy felt another knot untie. It would be brilliant if she was. Alice would look after Ellie and maybe give her some of the grandmotherly advice that she was so good at dishing out. Now if only Mattie hadn’t gone and told Tom she wasn’t coping, things would be much better all round.
All the way back to the station, she wondered whether Tom might remove her from the case, or make her stay in the office. It would be even worse if he made her go for extra counselling sessions with that bloody awful Sara Cross.
Still angry with Mattie, she got out of the car as soon as he’d parked and strode off before he’d even had time to grab his jacket from the back seat. She had to get an artist’s impression made up of Lizzy Clements so they had something solid to work from. She needed to find out who they used for things like this, though, because it was something they rarely requested. Browning would know – Lucy remembered him using a forensic artist years ago. If she hadn’t found one by the time he came back, she would have to ask him.
She went straight to Jack’s office, which was empty. They’re all at the scene, Lucy. Taking herself off to the toilets, she typed Jack’s collar number into her radio, hoping to catch him on a point-to-point – a private call, which meant the whole station couldn’t hear their conversation. Unless it dropped out, which it frequently did – normally right at the point where you were in the middle of slating someone.
Her radio began to ring and she crossed her fingers, hoping Jack was in a position to answer the call. It rang out and the call ended. Stupid bloody thing. She felt like launching it across the room at the wall.
She went back to her office. Mattie was nowhere to be seen, so she slammed the door shut and hoped he had the common sense to stay out of her way, at least until she’d calmed down enough to talk to him in a civilised manner. What would Ms Cross say about this sudden, impending anger that was frothing away inside her chest? That made her smile: she didn’t give a fuck what Ms Cross would think. She didn’t trust her; there was just something about her…
She picked up the phone and rang the forensic department at headquarters, hoping someone there would be able to answer her query about the forensic artist. She wanted to have either emailed the photo or sent it off by express delivery within the next hour.
* * *
Mattie was in the gents. Heidi had been ringing him on and off all morning and he needed to check that she was OK, but he didn’t want Lucy to overhear. Now was not a good time for her to find out about their relationship when he hadn’t had the courtesy to tell her outright.
‘Sorry,’ he said when she picked up. ‘It’s been mad.’
‘What, again?’
‘Yes.’
‘Bloody hell. I was ringing to say I’d booked us a table for two at the Belmont tonight for eight. I booked a room, too, so we could both have a drink and enjoy ourselves.’
Mattie grimaced. The Belmont was Brooklyn Bay’s equivalent of the Ritz – it was so bloody expensive. ‘Oh, that’s nice,’ he said. ‘But what if I’m tied up here and can’t get away?’
‘Well, then I’ll eat my meal and sleep on my own,’ Heidi said, frostily. ‘I suggest that if you seriously want to keep this relationship alive, Matthew, then you tell your boss to go and fuck herself and put me first for a change.’
‘Don’t be like that. She works hard and is under an extreme amount of pressure. We both are, Heidi. There have been two more murders. It’s neither of our fault that some maniac is going around killing people. Look, I’ll be there tonight.’
‘You better had,’ Heidi said. ‘Because if you’re not, don’t bother phoning to apologise, because I won’t be interested. I’ve decided against my better nature to give you a second chance. If you blow tonight, then we’re through. As much as I like you, I am not spending my life being second-best to your boss.’ She ended the call.
Mattie was so angry he didn’t know whether to punch the wall or smash his phone. Instead, he slammed open a cubicle door. Sitting down on the toilet lid, he leant back and shut his eyes. This case was getting to them all.
* * *
Lucy put the phone down. Bollocks. So, she needed to get permission from the DCI to enlist the help of a forensic artist, and they weren’t cheap. She’d been hoping that there might be one who worked within the force somewhere, but there wasn’t. There wasn’t enough call for one to be on the payroll. She’d been given the contact details of an independent forensic artist who was based at the University of Lancaster and was also a lecturer there.
Drumming her fingers on the desk, Lucy knew anything would be worth it to have a clear picture of what Lizzy Clements looked like now. She felt responsible for Mr and Mrs Clements’ deaths. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her visit to the Clements yesterday had sealed their fate. The killer had to be Lizzy. Why else would the person who killed Edwin Wilkes and Audrey Stone go after the elderly couple? Although if Lizzy had thought that killing her parents would stall things, she was very mistaken.
Lucy knew it was all circumstantial until they got some DNA comparisons back. They now had all the blood and DNA samples they could wish for to cross-match against that hair. However, getting the results could take days and they didn’t have the time. They needed that artist’s impression, and fast. How many more might die if Lucy didn’t try her best to stop the killer?
Lucy picked up the evidence bag and stared at the picture of the toothless, happy kid.
Are you starting to lose control, Lizzy Clements? Are you unravelling at the seams? I bloody well hope so, because you can’t carry on killing. I won’t let you.
Her phone began to ring. Ellie. She didn’t answer it, and instead sent her a text message: I’m on my way, won’t be long. Jumping up, she grabbed the evidence bag and the piece of paper she’d scribbled the forensic artist’s contact details on. She would go and see her daughter, drink some coffee, then decide what to do.
42
She could stand it no longer. She loved returning to the scene of the crime. There were always so many other nosy bystanders that no one ever looked at her twice. No doubt the police would be running around there like headless chickens, which suited her just fine. They would be too busy to notice her.
The only people who really worried her were Lucy and Mattie. As much as Lizzy wanted to hate the woman, she had to admit she did have a grudging respect for her. She imagined that if Lucy played chess, she would be a very worthy adversary. She had much better vision than anyone else, and Lizzy wouldn’t be surprised if one day she didn’t make it all the way to the top. In fact, there was only one thing standing in the way of Lucy’s brilliant career, and that was Lizzy. She wouldn’t think twice about killing her should Lucy get too close to finding out her real identity.
She wouldn’t get as much pleasure from killing Lucy as she had from the others – except for the young woman, that had just been a necessity. She’d had very personal grudges against the doctor, the nurse, and of course her disgraceful parents. She’d not regretted any of their deaths – she’d spent her entire life waitin
g for the right moment for them. She’d wanted them to pay for what they’d done; she hadn’t wanted any of them to die peacefully in their sleep.
Dr Wilkes had killed Tommy – Lizzy was sure about that. And he might as well have murdered Alice: what he’d done to her was horrific. Nurse Stone had been nothing but a bully; she had made those children’s already miserable lives even worse. She had shown not one of them any compassion whatsoever – instead, she had stood and watched, grinning, while they were drugged up and left drooling like dogs.
It was the story on the news last month that had made up her mind. A developer had finally won the right to dig up the graves in the asylum cemetery and rehome them elsewhere, in order to build a housing project. Lizzy had spent years wondering if they would ever find the body of Tommy Wright, and when she’d seen the news story, she’d thought now maybe they would. Maybe they’d find a grave with only one marker and two bodies inside. She was convinced that Dr Wilkes and Nurse Stone had buried Tommy in one of those graves that night and left him there all alone. The news story had brought it all back so vividly. It had played on her mind for days, until finally she’d decided to take action against every single one of the people who had ruined her and countless others’ lives. The time had come for them all to pay the price for what they’d done.
Lizzy got into her car now, driving as near as she dared to the street that held her childhood home. She’d considered changing out of her dress and shoes into a pair of jeans and trainers so that she’d mingle in better, but had decided against it. She wasn’t a snob, but she did have her standards. Besides, she was hardly going to look like a serial killer in her Vivienne Westwood suit and matching heels.
She parked a couple of streets away, and took the overgrown cut-through where she’d spent so much time playing as a kid. She emerged at the end into quite a large crowd of people, all standing around and muttering about what the world was coming to, wondering what had happened in this nice, quiet street. Lizzy heard one man mumbling about the state of the town these days, and how it was bound to have something to do with the refugees or those foreigners who had bought the corner shop.
