by DS Butler
Her mother sat in an armchair opposite her. She peered at Estelle over her glasses, and set down her newspaper and the pen she’d been using to fill in the crossword.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Estelle said. “It’s not his fault.”
“If you say so,” her mother said.
“I don’t know why you’ve got it in for Tyrell,” Estelle said. “He’s always been perfectly polite to you.”
Her mother folded her arms and gave Estelle a sharp look. “It’s not the way he treats me that I’m worried about. How will he look after you and the baby when he can’t even look after himself properly?”
Tears burned behind Estelle’s eyelids. She pinched the bridge of her nose. She knew her mother was right but she could really do without the “I told you so.”
Her mother shuffled forward in her armchair, perching on the edge of her seat. “I’m worried about you, Estelle. You’re still my little girl.”
Estelle sniffed. “Why did it have to happen now? I don’t even know what he has done.”
Even as she spoke, Estelle knew it was something to do with Vinnie Pearson. He was always getting Tyrell into trouble. It was pathetic. For God’s sake, they were meant to be grown-ups.
Her mother eased herself out of the armchair and walked over to Estelle. “You put your feet up. I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.”
Estelle raised her legs and rested them on the sofa. “Can I have a biscuit with it?”
Her mum grinned. “I’ll see what I can rustle up.”
Estelle tried to wedge a cushion behind her back. It seemed like she could never get comfy these days. Something always ached. She settled back, then realised the television remote control was on the other side of the room.
Crap. She heaved herself up and swung her legs down from the sofa.
Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw a movement.
It was him. The masked man.
No, it couldn’t be. She must be seeing things. She opened her mouth to scream.
He put his finger to where his lips would be if they weren’t hidden behind that awful black mask.
How could Tyrell do this to her? Bastard. Bastard. Bastard. She clenched her fists as the anger flooded through her.
“Are you on your own?” The masked man’s voice was raspy and muffled by the mask.
Oh, shit. Her mum was in the kitchen. If she saw him she’d have a heart attack.
Estelle nodded. “Yes, I’m on my own.”
She moved forward quickly. “This is Tyrell’s fault. It’s not fair to take it out on me. I don’t know anything about it.” She looked over her shoulder down the hallway towards the kitchen. She could hear the radio in the kitchen where her mother was making tea.
“Look, let’s go somewhere. We can talk about it outside.” She put a hand on his chest to try to force him backwards, but he didn’t seem to notice.
He looked over her shoulder and shook his head. “You’re not alone.”
“Please, please leave us alone. I’ve done nothing to you. I’m pregnant. My mum’s in the kitchen. We weren’t involved in any of this. I’m sure I can get him to sort this out, to apologise to you, or pay back whatever he owes you …”
He didn’t respond.
Her hands clutched her face. “Oh, God, please, I’m sure he is sorry…”
“Words pay no debts.” The voice was raspy and echoed from the mask, sending a chill down her spine.
A shrill scream sounded from behind them. Estelle’s mother stood framed by the kitchen doorway, a look of horror on her face. In that split second, the masked man was distracted, and Estelle raced towards the cordless phone.
Before she got halfway into the sitting room, the back of his hand connected with her face.
Estelle staggered on her feet, shocked by the blow. She could taste the metallic tang of her blood. The anger she’d felt before was replaced by fear. She whimpered.
Her mother rushed past the masked man into the sitting room and took Estelle in her arms. “You can take whatever you want,” she said gesturing around the room. “Just don’t hurt us.”
“Sit down.” It was an order, harsh and raspy. “If you do exactly as I say, neither of you will get hurt. If you don’t…”
Estelle shivered at his unspoken threat and felt a sharp pain grip her stomach.
She winced as she waddled over to the sofa. Her mother stayed close to her, muttering words of reassurance. Together, they sat huddled on the sofa, and Estelle started sobbing. How could Tyrell do this? How could he involve her mother?
The masked man bent down and put his face close to Estelle’s. His eyes were distorted by the mask. Estelle flinched.
With the gas mask just inches from her face, he rasped, “Listen to me very carefully. Your life depends on it.”
55
THE KILLER STOOD IN the middle of Estelle’s sitting room. “You understand what you have to say?”
Estelle nodded.
Christ, she just wanted to get this over with.
She glanced at her mother. Her skin was grey and drawn. Another wave of pain clutched at Estelle’s belly and she cried out.
“Very good,” the masked man said. “But you’d be better off saving your acting skills for the phone call.”
He handed her the cordless phone and she punched in the familiar telephone number. Surely, Tyrell would notice something was wrong. She never normally called him from the landline. She always used up the free minutes she got with her mobile phone contract.
As the call connected and she heard the ringing tone, Estelle’s throat tightened.
She rocked back and forward. It would be okay. As soon as this bastard left, she would phone Tyrell again and warn him it was a trap.
When Tyrell’s voice answered, her eyes filled with tears. “Tyrell, I need you to meet me.”
She felt the masked man’s eyes burning into her.
“You know I can’t leave this place, babe.”
“Please, Tyrell, I have to see you.”
“It’s only for a few days. I’ll see you soon, I promise.”
Estelle began to sob. “Tyrell, you have to …”
“Come on, babe, not the waterworks again. It’s not fair. I’ll see you in a few days.”
Estelle looked up at the masked man. Only his eyes were visible through the black gas mask. His cold, blue eyes stared back at her. She shot a look at her mother, who sat trembling with her hand pushed to her chest. She had to make Tyrell agree to meet her.
Estelle said the only thing she had left, the only thing that would make him come, “Tyrell, it’s the baby.” The bitterness of the words threatened to choke her as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong? Is something wrong with the baby?”
Estelle looked up at the masked man again, begging him with her eyes, pleading for him not to make her do this.
He walked over to the sofa and rested his hand on her mother’s shaking shoulder.
Estelle had to do this. When the man left, she would phone Tyrell back and let him know it was all a lie.
“It’s the baby,” she said. “It’s serious, but I can’t tell you over the phone…”
Tyrell promised to sneak out of the safe house to meet her, and he started to tell her the address.
“I’ll meet you in an hour. In the alleyway behind Viola’s restaurant. It’s the alleyway opposite the safe house, halfway down.”
“It’s probably safer to meet on the main road where –”
“No! It has to be behind the restaurant … Please, Tyrell.”
“All right. I’ll be there … try not to worry, babe.”
Estelle couldn’t reply as the depth of her betrayal began to sink in.
After Tyrell hung up, she handed the masked man the phone.
“Good girl,” he said and then reached inside his black leather jacket.
Estelle’s eyes widened as she saw a length of what looked like washing line. She shook her head. “W
hat’s that for?”
He beckoned her forward, holding out his hand.
She swatted it away. “No.”
“Sit in the chair,” he said, grabbing hold of one of the four hard-backed chairs around the dining table.
She pushed herself off the sofa, but a sharp pain shot through her, making her double up.
He waited until she straightened up and then gestured again for her to sit in the chair. When she sat down, he roughly pulled her arms behind her back and began to wrap the cord around her wrists.
“You can’t do that. She’s going into labour.”
Estelle vaguely registered her mother’s protests as the horror slowly dawned on her: He was tying her up so she wouldn’t be able to warn Tyrell.
If he killed Tyrell, it would be her fault.
She struggled against the cord, and a noise that sounded like some kind of animal in pain rang out around the flat.
As the masked man sealed her lips with tape, she realised the noise had been coming from her.
56
THE KILLER LOOKED DOWN at the slumped figure of Tyrell Patterson. It had been over quickly, almost too quickly.
He activated the camera on his mobile phone, and lined up the shot. It wasn’t easy. His hands were still shaking, a side effect of the adrenaline flooding his system.
He had to take three photos before he was satisfied. The build-up had been so exciting, but the actual event had been an anti-climax. Tyrell hadn’t put up much of a fight.
He only had one more of the gang to go now: Robbie Baxter. After that, he needed to make a plan and decide who to target next.
There were plenty of candidates needing a dose of justice. He’d be spoilt for choice.
He looked down at the photo of Tyrell and another thought struck him - there was a deserving candidate even closer to home.
He’d propped Tyrell up against a brick wall, but his head kept lolling forward. The killer grabbed a handful of Tyrell’s hair. Tyrell’s blotchy, swollen face made him shudder. The killer let go in disgust and pulled his hand away, wiping it on his trousers.
In the end, it had been ridiculously easy to trap Tyrell. The killer had parked in the narrow lane outside the back of Viola’s restaurant. He wasn’t sure how Tyrell had managed to leave the safe house and give the guards the slip but criminals could be surprisingly enterprising.
He had fed Tyrell a line about Estelle being rushed to hospital. He told him he was a neighbour of his girlfriend’s mother and that they’d asked him to meet Tyrell and drive him to the hospital.
For a criminal, he was surprisingly trusting.
Tyrell jumped in the car straight away. The killer pretended he needed to get something out of the boot, and after opening it, he fed a length of tubing through the back seat and activated the locks.
It didn’t take Tyrell long to realise something was wrong.
The smell gave it away, obviously he recognised it.
The killer had allowed himself a moment or two of satisfaction as Tyrell struggled to open the car door. There was no way he could escape. The killer had rigged the locking mechanism so it could only be opened from the outside.
In less than a minute, Tyrell was slumped forward against the dashboard, motionless.
The killer opened the email app on his phone to send the photo by email. He’d gotten the email address for DCI Brookbank of the city of London police from their website.
It was a shame he couldn’t have sent it to that other officer, the one who’d screwed up his plans for Robbie Baxter.
After he’d sent the email, the killer headed back to the tube. He pulled his hood up, making sure he kept his face in shadow.
57
THAT AFTERNOON, MACKINNON CAME back to the station determined to get back to work. He was sick of sitting at Derek’s, doing nothing but watching Molly doze by the radiator. Even if Brookbank had him doing paperwork and sitting at his desk all day, it was better than sitting at home feeling helpless.
He’d had a brief explanation from Collins over the phone, but he still didn’t understand how the killer managed to get at Tyrell Patterson when he was in the safe house.
His chest felt tight as he climbed the stairs slowly, heading up to the incident room. He bumped into DI Tyler, who was making his way down the stairs.
“What are you doing here, Mackinnon? I thought you were supposed to be off sick.”
Mackinnon paused on the stairs, glad to take a breather. “I felt better.”
“Really? You don’t look better.”
“What the hell happened with Tyrell Patterson?” Mackinnon changed the subject.
Tyler ran a hand through his grey-streaked hair. “It’s a mess. Tyrell Patterson left the safe house,” He shook his head. “The fool. What’s the bloody point of being in a safe house if you don’t stay inside it?”
“How did he get outside, and why didn’t the officers on duty notice?” Mackinnon asked.
“According to the two guards on duty, they checked up on him every thirty minutes. On their ten a.m. check he was still in bed, at ten-thirty he was gone. He left via the fire escape. The tricky little bugger disabled the alarm that was meant to go off when the door opened.” Tyler leaned heavily on the bannister. “The killer sent an email to the DCI with a photo of Tyrell slumped against a wall. We found him in an alleyway within spitting distance of the safe house.”
“And do you know why he left the safe house?”
Tyler nodded. “His girlfriend.”
Two uniformed officers passed them on the stairs, and Tyler and Mackinnon moved back to give them room.
Tyler waited a moment before continuing. “After Patterson’s body was found, we sent a routine patrol unit out to check on his girlfriend, Estelle Williams. He forced the girlfriend to phone Tyrell and arrange a meeting, then he tied her and her mother up. The girlfriend is eight and a half months pregnant.”
Mackinnon scowled. “Sick bastard.”
Mackinnon and Tyler began to walk upstairs slowly.
“How are Estelle and her mother now?” Mackinnon asked.
“They’re in hospital. Estelle is in labour, and they’ve both got marks on their arms from the cord he used to tie them up, but there was no sign of any gas or any of that stuff he rigged up at the other places.”
Tyler shrugged. “We had to move Robbie Baxter pretty quickly. He’s at the station, for now, until we can sort something out. His mother is here, too. She’s been nagging the ears off the officer looking after the family room. The woman never shuts up.”
Tyler’s phone began to ring as they walked along the corridor. Mackinnon stopped by the vending machine and gestured to Tyler. Tyler nodded vigorously and pointed to number seventy-two which was vegetable soup. Mackinnon pulled a face but fed coins into the machine for Tyler’s drink.
Mackinnon could only hear one side of the phone conversation but it sounded like Tyler was talking to Collins. Mackinnon handed Tyler his soup, and then fed in more coins and pressed the buttons for a black coffee.
He took a sip, and looked at Tyler, trying to read his face.
Tyler beamed widely into the phone. “That is interesting. Good work,” he said and hung up.
Mackinnon waited for him to elaborate, but Tyler didn’t seem willing to share. He raised his cup of soup, said, “Cheers,” and headed off down the corridor towards the DCI’s office.
Mackinnon didn’t fancy seeing the DCI. He wasn’t exactly Brookbank’s flavour of the month. “I thought I’d have a word with Robbie Baxter and his mum. They’re downstairs in the family room, aren’t they?”
“Nice try, Mackinnon,” Tyler said, turning back and grinning at Mackinnon over his shoulder. “But I don’t think Brookbank would approve of that. Stick to paperwork. If you’re lucky, he might not notice you’re back.” Tyler winked, and then carried on walking.
58
AN HOUR LATER, COLLINS arrived back in the incident room. His cheeks were flushed and he was slightly out of breat
h. He threw his jacket over the back of the chair. “I knew it,” he said.
He wandered over and perched on the edge of Mackinnon’s desk. “What are you doing back? Feeling better?”
“Yes, thanks,” Mackinnon said. “What did you know?”
“Sorry?” Collins unbuttoned his shirt sleeves and started to roll them up.
“You just walked in and said, you knew it?”
Collins grinned and cracked his knuckles. “Ah, yes. That was all down to a brilliant piece of detective work by me.” Collins scanned the incident room. “Is Charlotte around?”
“I haven’t seen her … So …?”
“So what?”
“Are you going to tell me about this amazing piece of detective work, or do I have to drag it out of you?”
“All right, I’m getting to it. Christ, I can see you’re in a great mood, after your day off.” Collins wheeled over a chair and sat down. “The first time I spoke to Pete Morton, I knew he was hiding something”.
“The famous Collins instinct,” Mackinnon said sarcastically.
“That’s right. It turns out that Pete Morton had a bit of a dodgy deal going with Syed Hammad. He’d given Hammad a box of phones, then told his boss the phones never turned up from their suppliers. Morton was panicking because he thought we’d find the box of phones and put two and two together. Of course, he insisted this was the first time he’d ever done anything like this, but then he would say that, wouldn’t he?”
“But we didn’t find any phones at the newsagent’s,” Mackinnon said.
“Exactly. We didn’t find the phones because the kids had taken them. That’s how our masked man has been tracking the kids. Our techies found tracking software installed on Joanne James and Tyrell Patterson’s phones.”
Mackinnon felt sick. “So he knew where the safe house was. He knew where they were all the time.”
Collins nodded and sat back in his chair, looking pleased with himself. “Exactly. I suspect we’ll find that Robbie still has his phone on him.”
Collins stood up and stretched. “I’m going to go down and speak to Robbie and his charming mother. Care to join me?”
