Heartbreaker (Brennan and Esposito Series)

by Tania Carver

  ‘I’m sure no one thinks that,’ said Imani.

  Ellison nodded, looked round the room once more. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I can see you’re busy. I’ll leave you to it.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘But if you find anything, I’d appreciate being kept in the loop. First dibs, and all that.’

  ‘I’ll see what we can do.’

  ‘Oh, by the way, can I get a lift back to Digbeth? Any cars going that way? Mine’s in for an MOT. Had to walk up here. Don’t want to do that again.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Imani. ‘Not my department, I’m afraid.’

  Ellison, clearly unhappy, turned and walked out. None of them were sad to see him go.

  With a mixture of anticipation and dread, they went back to work.

  38

  ‘Oh my God…’

  Marina was at home. Josephina had been picked up from school and they had survived another day. Now her daughter was playing in her room and Marina was sitting in the living room, the files on the arm of her chair, notebook and pen beside them, the local news in the background. The sounds and pictures filling the empty space in the room.

  Suddenly the TV had Marina’s full attention. The reporter was talking about a siege at an evangelical church in Handsworth. The camera showed the scene, and there, caught fleetingly in shot standing by an ambulance with a blanket around his shoulders, was Phil.

  Marina stared, open-mouthed.

  The reporter continued talking. Told the viewers of the siege by an unnamed man, and his two hostages. It was understood that the actions of a lone police officer had defused the situation.

  ‘Phil…’ Marina kept staring. ‘You’re soaking…’

  The camera had moved on now; DCI Cotter, her name displayed on the screen, was talking about the bravery of the officer.

  Marina kept staring in shock.

  The news changed, went back to the studio. Marina kept staring. She didn’t know what to think, how to feel. Seeing Phil on her TV was the last thing she would have expected. And to see him the way he’d looked – bedraggled, spent – made it even harder.

  Immediately she wanted to go back to the home gym. Another session on the bag – pound it, pummel it, get rid of all the conflicting emotions she was harbouring. Ache and tire them out of her system. But she couldn’t. She had Josephina to look after. It was bad enough that her daughter was being deprived of her father’s company without her mother being absent too.

  She looked down at the folders once more, unable to concentrate. That made her feel angry. She had been making good progress on them, had reached some interesting conclusions about the two cases and definitely needed to speak to Imani first thing in the morning. But Phil’s appearance had put paid to that. So she just sat there, staring at the screen.

  Phil. He had looked so alone, so… forlorn. And the way he had been in her office earlier… She felt her heart break just thinking about him.

  I miss him, she thought. I miss him being here, being with us… I miss… I miss how it used to be.

  So do it, she told herself. Go back. Be a family again.

  She shook her head. No. She’ll take it away. I know she will. She’ll wait until we’re happy again, until we’ve let our guard down, and then, wham. She’ll be there. And everything’ll be gone. And I can’t let her do that.

  Then another voice in her head: She has taken everything away from you. She’s taken your happiness. Is that what you want? To keep going on like that?

  Marina sat still. Said nothing, thought nothing

  Her chest rose and fell with her shallow breathing. Then tears – heartbreakingly small – began to fall silently down her face.

  Something had to be done, she thought. They couldn’t go on like this.

  She looked at the TV once more. The news was continuing. DCI Cotter was back on again, this time talking about the death of a young woman in West Bromwich.

  Marina looked at the files once more, her own notes. She dried her tears.

  Yes, she thought, something had to be done. And something would be done. But right now she had work to do. Cotter’s appearance on TV had reminded her.

  She picked up the folders. Began working again.

  39

  ‘What the hell do you think you were playing at?’

  Cotter sat behind her desk. All traces of the smiling woman from the local news praising the brave actions of one of her finest officers had completely vanished. She was now flushed with rage and indignation.

  Phil sat opposite her, still wrapped in the blanket. His clothes were drying on him. He smelt like he’d been swimming at a petrol station. He was exhausted beyond tiredness.

  ‘He was bluffing.’

  She stared at him. Not a good sign. Phil knew that shouting was one thing, but when his superior went quiet, matters had become serious.

  ‘Bluffing. You’ve had a couple of hours to think about it, to come up with a convincing story, and that’s the best you can do?’

  ‘He…’ Phil shrugged. Even he had to concede that the gesture seemed futile. ‘I called him on it. I knew he wouldn’t do anything.’

  ‘He had two hostages.’

  ‘They could have got up and left at any time. He wouldn’t have done anything. They were just scared. When I told them to leave, he didn’t try and stop them. People can do a lot with fear. I just…’ he shrugged again, ‘burst his balloon.’

  Cotter leaned forward, her slow, patient voice at odds with the unblinking, angry stare. ‘You knew he wouldn’t do it. Did you really?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He couldn’t meet her gaze and instead pretended the blanket was slipping from his shoulders. ‘Copper’s intuition. He’s not the type. Doesn’t fit that kind of profile.’

  ‘And what about you, Phil? What profile do you fit?’

  He didn’t know whether to answer or not. Suspected that whatever he said would be wrong.

  Cotter sat back, still regarding him levelly. ‘Phil, you were overheard. We had a long-range mic trained on you.’

  Phil said nothing.

  ‘Talking about your wife and daughter. And then pouring petrol all over yourself?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘You ignored the hostage negotiator’s advice,’ said Cotter. ‘You were abusive and confrontational over the phone while you knew the suspect had hostages and was in a volatile state of mind. The negotiator in question, fearing the worst as a result of your actions, then refused to have anything to do with the operation once you’d entered the church.’

  ‘I got the hostages out, didn’t I? And Adderley?’

  ‘The response team did that. You were ready to set him on fire, and yourself too.’ Cotter stared at him. ‘I should sack you right now for what you did. On the spot.’

  Phil sighed, head down. ‘I agree.’

  Cotter leaned forward. ‘So why shouldn’t I? Give me one good reason.’

  ‘I’m… I’m a good detective.’ He felt his voice starting to break.

  Cotter picked up her pen, twirled it in her fingers. It seemed to be occupying all her attention. She spoke again. ‘Can you remember one of the first things I said to you when you came to this department?’

  Phil thought. He knew exactly what she was going to say. ‘Not offhand, no.’

  Cotter didn’t call him on it. ‘Then I’ll remind you. I was told you had a certain reputation for unconventionality in your previous force. I was prepared to tolerate that as long as it got results and didn’t make my department look bad.’ She leaned forward, eyes unblinking once more. ‘But I also told you I would not tolerate any maverick or reckless actions. Especially from an officer whose competence I now have serious doubts about.’

  Phil nodded, eyes downcast.

  ‘Phil, take some time off.’

  He felt himself beginning to shake. ‘I don’t need to take time off. I’m fine. I’m… focused.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, Phil, you’re not. I asked you to be focused on this one but not fixated. Yo
u weren’t. As a result of your fixation, an innocent man has now…’ She shrugged. ‘Well, you were there this afternoon; you know.’

  ‘Innocent?’ said Phil, finding his voice belatedly. ‘He’s got a history of violence and he’s a wife-abuser. He’s not innocent. And he still has no alibi for Janine Gillen’s murder.’

  ‘No,’ said Cotter, ‘perhaps not. But this is a high-profile case. We’re getting a lot of media attention. They’re linking the two murders, calling him the Heartbreaker now, for God’s sake. The pressure to get a result is increasing. And I need someone who can handle it. I want you to go home, take some time off, think about things. Talk to someone. See a doctor. And when you’re feeling better we’ll talk.’

  Phil opened his mouth to argue, but didn’t have the strength to form words. In any case, he knew they would be useless.

  ‘I’m sorry, Phil. You’re no use to me as you are. Please get yourself well again.’

  Phil, broken, stood up and left the room.

  40

  Cotter waited until the reverberation from the closed door dissipated before letting out the breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. Phil Brennan. One of the best DIs she had ever worked with. Jesus. When they went off the rails, they really went off the rails.

  She could see the incident room through the half-glass panelling of her office. The nearly empty board that was the touchstone of the whole investigation. Photos of two dead women and not much else. She shook her head.

  With Phil regrettably gone, she needed help with this one. And fast. She couldn’t just draft in a new DI. High-profile or not, there wasn’t the budget for that. She would have to promote from within. Fair enough. She knew who that would be. But would it be enough?

  She thought of something Imani had said to her earlier. And the more she rolled the idea round in her head, the better it sounded. Might be just what the case needed.

  She picked up her mobile, scrolled through her contacts, dialled a number.

  ‘DCI Cotter here. How are you?’

  She waited, listened to the response.

  ‘I know. Yes. Listen. Are you interested in some work?’

  ‘Funny you should say that,’ said Marina on the other end of the line.

  41

  You? No. I don’t love you. I mean, I like you, but not like that. Not that way.

  He was gone, lost to reverie and memory once more.

  His first real job. Some dead-end agricultural supply company. Everyone passing through on the way to other things, hopefully better, sometimes not. His work colleague, Charlotte. Always looking at him flirtily, that back-over-the-shoulder look she did, hair sprayed out, eyes dancing with promise, lips red and wide. Always getting too near him to ask him something, bending over him, letting him see down her top, knowing he was doing it. Smiling all the more.

  So he had asked her out. One night after work, all of them round the corner at the pub, making their meagre cash go as far as possible.

  And she had laughed.

  Let’s not spoil everything, she had replied at first, laughing at him. Let’s just keep it as friends.

  He had tried to grab her, just playfully, but she had twisted away every time. Not unpleasantly, always smiling. Sometimes waggling her finger in mock-admonishment. Like it was all a game to her.

  Just a fucking game.

  And still day after day she persisted. That smile, those eyes, the bending down… He wasn’t to blame for the way he felt. It was all her fault. He was innocent. She was doing it deliberately, leading him on. Stringing him along for weeks. Cock-teasing.

  He couldn’t help it, he had to respond. He thought about her when he wasn’t at work. Woke up thinking about her. Went to sleep thinking about her. Talked to her when she wasn’t there, imaginary conversations in his head. All different kinds. Sometimes they would be sitting on the sofa after work, just chatting. She’d be thanking him for the dinner he had made, praising his culinary skills. Sometimes they would be out together. Strolling through the park arm in arm, or in the cinema, where she was thrilled and astounded by his knowledge of foreign language films. And sometimes in bed. Where he would make her pay for all the times she had led him on and not gone all the way. He liked those scenarios the best.

  So he asked her out again. But this time it felt different. He had been living with her in his mind for all that time, built up a relationship. Asking her out was just a formality really.

  What? No, I told you before. Let’s just be friends.

  And then he said it. That he loved her. And she gave her response. Not that way.

  He had felt like walking out of the pub there and then, never coming back, never seeing any of those people again, the humiliation too much to take. But he didn’t. He stayed. And he was glad he did.

  Because he saw Charlotte get friendly with Guy Winterburn. Friendly in a way she had never been with him. Never intended to be with him. And when they left together, arm in arm, he thought his head would explode.

  He had been let down again. By a woman. Always by a woman. All his life they had let him down, ridiculed him, patronised him, belittled him. And he had begun to hate them. But this time there was something else. Another man. He couldn’t let them get away with it. He would have his revenge. Oh yes.

  The next morning he woke expecting to have forgotten about his plans for revenge, put it down to the beer talking.

  But he hadn’t forgotten. They were there in his mind, sharper than ever.

  Over the next couple of weeks, Guy and Charlotte became closer. She didn’t flirt as much with him then, just smiled occasionally. Made no real attempt to talk to him.

  Guy came to work on a motorbike. His pride and joy. The Heartbreaker didn’t know anything about motorbikes. But he was clever. He could learn.

  One night, after they had been to the pub, Guy had had a couple of pints and got on his bike to ride home. Charlotte, with her own helmet by now, climbed on the back with him. And off they went.

  They never made it.

  When Guy needed his brakes, zipping between two slow-moving buses and misjudging the space, they weren’t there.

  He lost his right arm and both his legs from the knee down.

  Charlotte lost an arm.

  He never saw either of them again. Which was a shame, he thought, because he still had imaginary conversations with her. Only this time he was telling her who was responsible for the crash, who had looked up motorbike maintenance on the internet, who knew which cables to cut. Who really loved her the most.

  He smiled. Perhaps he should forget about her. She had learned her lesson. Or had she? She was still there, in his heart; still needed purging. Like the rest of them. He had always thought of her in a good way, really. The turning point. The one who taught him about revenge. But she was still there…

  Yes, he thought. Another one. Make up for that aborted operation in West Bromwich. Yes. Another. Do it right this time.

  He had to get home. Needed to be in his room. Among the boxes. Couldn’t be away from them too long. And scanning the airwaves.

  He had to find the next one. Things were moving quickly. The police were getting close. He couldn’t let that happen. Not before he was finished.

  PART FOUR

  SAFE HAVENS

  42

  Imani couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  No warning, no preparation. Not even being pulled to one side and given a heads-up. Nothing. From experience she knew that wasn’t how things worked; there was always consultation. But not now, not today. That, she decided, was an indication of just how much pressure Cotter was under.

  The morning briefing had started as always. Cotter at the front of the team in the incident room, standing before the murder wall, bringing out people to contribute as and when they were needed. The board was mainly white space at the moment, waiting for the details to be filled in. Pictures of the two dead women, names and information beside them. Lines linking them to their partners, photos of t
hem too. Different-colour lines linking them to Safe Haven. And that was that. For the time being.

  Marina Esposito was next to Cotter. They hadn’t had time to say hello, so Imani could only assume she knew why the profiler was there. The second difference that she and everyone else noticed was the absence of Phil. And Cotter wasn’t about to gloss over that.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, while the team settled themselves, notebooks before them, cooling takeout coffees and pastries beside them. ‘As you’re all no doubt aware, Detective Inspector Phil Brennan has unfortunately had to take some time off for personal reasons. We wish him all the best and hope he’ll be back with us very soon.’

  Imani saw Marina look towards the floor at the mention of Phil’s name, keep her gaze rooted there.

  Cotter continued. ‘DI Brennan’s absence gives us an opportunity to try a new approach to this investigation. Focus on several avenues that may not have been previously explored.

  ‘Now, I’ll come to the question of his replacement as CIO in a while. Before that, I want to introduce you to a couple of new additions to the team.’ She gestured towards Marina. ‘Some of you may know her already, but for those of you who don’t, this is Marina Esposito. She works for Birmingham University and she’s to be our consultant criminal psychologist.’

  Marina looked up, seemingly unsure whether she should speak or not. She settled for a single ‘Hello’, then fell silent once more. That was apparently what was expected of her, as Cotter made no attempt to engage her in further conversation.

  ‘Ms Esposito will be going through all the available data we have on the two murders so far and hopefully coming up with a profile of the offender that we can then work from. I’m sure you’ll all extend to her every courtesy.’