Kate blinked rapidly, her eyes tearing somewhat from the strain of focusing on the back wall so intently. She sighed, and looked at the Lady Justice.
“All right. Thank you —”
“Excuse me, madam.” Warwick stood, his hands clasped in front of him in almost a supplicant posture. “I have a couple of questions for Miss Gardener.”
“Mister Warwick, I do not think —”
“Um, excuse me?” Kate raised her hand politely. “It’s all right. I’ll answer his questions, ma’am.”
“Very well. You may proceed, Mister Warwick. With care.”
Warwick glanced back at Grayson, then stepped forward toward Kate’s chair. He smiled tightly, apparently his best attempt at trying to reassure and relax her. If anything, Kate felt more nervous now then before. “Miss Gardener, how are you?”
Kate glanced briefly at Pierce again, taking note of his frown and stiff posture. He was not happy about this. Kate turned back to Warwick and smiled. “So far so good.”
“Very good. Prior to your journey to the park, you were in Mister Crane’s flat, were you not?”
“Yes.”
“Did he let you in?”
“No.”
“How did you get in, then?”
“I picked the lock.” Kate saw Pierce close his eyes, his head lowering slightly. She quickly added, “I’d done it before when Neville locked himself out.”
“Why did you break in to Mister Crane’s flat?”
“Because I knew Neville was the killer, but I needed to find the proof.”
“The proof?”
“The pictures he took of Daniel Norton after he killed him.”
“I see. Mister Crane was instrumental in bringing you to England, was he not?”
“Yes, he got me the job.”
“You were… Close?”
“We were friends, yes?”
“He knew you in America?”
“Yes. We met in New York, at a Fashion Week after-party.”
Warwick nodded, then began leafing noisily through his papers. He turned momentarily and took a paper from the hand of… Grayson. Here it comes, Kate thought, steeling herself internally for the attack that she knew was coming. Outwardly, she tried to maintain the cool that had held up all this time. Just get through with as few wounds as possible.
“Your memory of the events surrounding Neville Crane’s death are very precise.”
“And?”
“It was a stressful circumstance for you, it may be difficult for a person to be clear on details.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m always clear on the details.”
“According to your personnel file, you have two notes under ‘medical’…”
Kate held up her hand. “No.”
“No?”
“Yeah. No.”
The Lady Justice frowned deeply at Warwick. “Mister Warwick, you’re going too far.”
“Apologies, madam, but this is relevant.”
Kate shifted roughly in the chair, the movements tense. “Okay, you know what, that’s enough. I know exactly what this is about. But I think the person you had hack into my personnel file and steal information should have looked more closely.
She turned slightly, speaking directly to the Lady Justice. “It’s true. Something in my medical history is very pertinent to this case. You see, Mister Warwick and his C.I.B. buddies want me to cast doubt on the clarity of my memories. They want me to say I’m not sure. They want to say that, yeah, maybe Sergeant Pierce had that gun in-hand when he reached the Park, that he shot Neville without any just cause or provocation. But I can’t do that. It would be a lie. Because I remember. And I cannot be wrong.”
There was a murmur that washed through the room, and Warwick held up his hands in an exaggerated show of disbelief. “What sheer and utter —”
The Lady Justice held up her hand. “Silence, Mister Warwick. Please continue, Miss Gardener.”
Kate took a deep breath. “I remember… Everything… Because it’s impossible for me not to. I have an eidetic memory. Once I have seen something, experienced it I never forget it. I don’t have to think about it to recall it. It’s just there.”
Warwick was incredulous, dramatically so, as he motioned to the papers in his hand. “You expect us to believe your version of what happened because you claim to have a clinical condition that is not, in fact, proven to exist?”
Kate smirked. “I wouldn’t expect you to believe me, but you’re welcome to test me if you want.” This was dangerous, and as soon as the words came out of Kate’s mouth a little twinge of regret seeped in. She’d opened the door… Now she’d have to deal with the consequences.
“Before you were employed by the Forensic Science Service, you worked as a crime scene photographer for the New York Police Department, correct?”
“Yes.”
“For… Ten years?”
“Yes.”
“Tell us about your first case.”
Fuck. Kate hoped that they hadn’t seen her wince, because she felt like she had obviously winced. Glancing around, she noticed everyone looking at her, waiting expectantly for her to respond. And she had to.
Kate swallowed hard, took a deep breath, moistened her lips… and began…
“When I got to the scene, the dust cloud was beginning to dissipate. A light breeze had come up and was blowing the cloud off the island. Everything was covered with dust… the cars, the people, the signs, the windows. Alarms were going off everywhere.
“I got close to the site… stuff was crunching under my boots. When I looked I saw glass and concrete pieces and shards of bone. The flesh had been burned away by the impact and the super-heated air. It was like Pompeii, or something.
“Then I heard a pop, a loud pop, and something wet hit me, hit my face. I reached up and wiped it off. It was blood and … brain matter. And I turned and saw what was left of the man who had hit the ground a few feet away from me. The there was another, a few feet beyond. Then there was a third behind me. People started yelling and screaming… And then there was this incredible grinding sound… crushing, rushing, like a massive roll of thunder. Then we were running from the dust, and the smoke and the heat, and the smell, and the cremated remains of the people left in that building.
“Nobody knew what was happening. Then later, when we knew…”
Kate trailed off and blinked away the tears moistening her eyes. She could see the expression on the faces of the Lady Justice… Warwick… Pierce… Parris… Wait a minute, when did he come in? What is he doing here? She shivered slightly, trying to pry herself from his intense gaze so she could finish this with the final blow.
Kate glanced at the Lady Justice briefly before continuing. “I don’t excuse what Neville did. It was wrong, vicious… but I understand why he did it. When horrific violence is done to you, to those you love, to your country, your idealistic sense of mercy goes out the window. You only want justice, vengeance… On whatever terms you can get it.”
The room was silent, though Kate thought a couple of women on the jury might be crying. She didn’t dare look. Tears were like yawns and vomiting… Once you heard them, saw them, you could pretty much guarantee that you would go from observer to participant in seconds. And Kate didn’t want to cry… Not anymore. She sighed, focusing on her hands in her lap, twisting and turning her fingers restlessly.
“Are we done here?”
19
October 2011
FSS Lambeth
Pierce leaned back in the conference room chair, his gaze roaming over the gathering there. Monaghan… Hagen… Owens… Reynolds… Kate… all waiting, patiently or not, for Jimi Khan to arrive with the preliminary DNA report. She’d phoned them at the Met an hour ago, her bubbly voice bubbling more than usual as she babbled over the speakerphone in Hagen’s office, telling them that she’d run this sample and that sample, cross-matched DNA and typed blood and whatnot. Finally, after circling the runway for what seemed like
forever, Ms. Khan got to the point: Results were in, get to Lambeth immediately. So they’d driven over and settled into chairs in the conference room to wait.
It was extraordinarily quiet in the room, and had been since they’d arrived. There was some noise and exchange of pleasantries when Reynolds and Monaghan walked in.
Kate’s entry had been uncharacteristically subdued. Pierce looked over at her. She was sitting in the chair with her legs hanging over the arm, her arms clutched around her middle, pulling her oversized sweatshirt tighter around her body. Her hair was up in one of those messy buns she always wore, whisps and pieces of hair sticking out in an attractively disheveled way. She moved her right foot, then her left, maintaining a pendulum-like beat as she swung them. The soles of her black canvas high-tops tapped against the edge of the seat, and Pierce unconsciously read the words on the side over and over… Bad… Wolf… Bad… Wolf… He smiled to himself. They weren’t as flashy as her Tardis shoes, but Kate definitely had some affection for Doctor Who.
She rested her temple against the back of the chair, her eyes closed. She’s been… different… since the inquest, Pierce thought as he watched her. Quiet. Withdrawn. She’d been so open at the Inquest, thanks to that arsehole Warwick, but her honesty had drained her, it seemed, and now she seemed… fragile.
Pierce’s thoughts were interrupted as the door blew open and Jimi Khan blew in. Pierce stifled his grin at her appearance. Jimi looked unconventional as usual, her asymmetric hair style streaked with a rainbow of pastel colors. The glittery lavender eyeshadow coated her lids all the way out to the tips of her eyebrows, and a small heart charm hung from the piercing in her eyebrow. She wore a lab coat buttoned up the front, but the punk tee shirt, striped stockings and Doc Martens boots that were visible betrayed the irrepressible spirit beneath that straight-laced coat.
“Wow! You all here to see me?” Jimi looked at once surprised and chuffed to see she had an audience. She waved the paperwork in her hand, smiling broadly. “I have the prelim back on the various DNA specimens you all provided.”
“You have a match?” Hagen’s posture was stiff, and Pierce could feel the corner of his mouth turn up in amusement. Hagen always seemed a bit uncomfortable around Jimi, though Pierce wasn’t entirely sure why. Hagen wasn’t a judgmental person by any means, but considering the variety of characters, good and bad, that the older detective must have encountered during his career, it did seem funny that this pixie of a girl with the brilliant mind would disconcert him so.
“Not… exactly.”
“Kill the drama, Jimi!” Kate’s eyes were open now and she was shifting in the chair to sit up, her legs swinging off of the chair arm and to the floor. “What did you find?”
“Grumpy, are we?” Jimi frowned, squinting her eyes at Kate in an attempt to look serious and tough, and failing miserably. She smiled again, the frown disappearing completely. “Okay, so I had three sources of DNA. Trace on the doorframe in the sacristy... on the murder weapon, the statue… and from the cigar end that the priest threw away. First of all, the samples found on the weapon and in the sacristy were a match. Same DNA profile exactly. Then I ran a comparison between those first two samples and Peter Hamilton’s DNA. No match, or at least not exactly” She pulled one piece of the paperwork free from the pile in her hand and laid it on the conference table. “The DNA came back with areas of overlap that indicate the DNA profile from the crime scene was related to Peter Hamilton, specifically through the maternal line.”
“So… a relative of Peter Hamilton’s committed the crime?” Reynolds was writing in a small notebook as he asked the question and waited for Jimi’s response.
Jimi touches the tip of her nose as she answers. “Yes.”
Kate chimed in. “What about the DNA from the cigar end?”
Jimi grinned, and nodded. “I ran it against the other three DNA samples. It was a match to the crime seen DNA and it shared alleles with Peter Hamilton.”
“So his uncle did it.” Kate stood up, her face brightening at the revelation. She turned quickly to Pierce. “Why didn’t you say that his uncle was a priest?”
Pierce held up his hands defensively. “I didn’t know that he was. I saw him once at the hospital, he wasn’t wearing the Roman collar, or cleric’s dress of any kind.”
Kate seemed to be satisfied with his answer, and her face and posture relaxed again.
“All right.” Hagen’s brow creased in a frown, and he turned quickly to Reynolds. “Can you get us a warrant?”
Reynolds nodded slowly as he laid down his pen and picked up his mobile, quickly dialing a number and putting the phone to his ear. “Miss Warren? I am in need of a warrant. Can you work magic for me? When? All right. Phone me when it’s signed.” He hung up the phone and nodded firmly to Hagen. “In the works. She’ll call when it’s signed.”
“Excellent. Thank you.” Hagen then turned to Owens. “Paul?”
Owens was focused on the phone in his hand, typing furiously. “Yes, sir. The person of interest is Colin Walker, age fifty-four, of Shoreditch. He has been a priest for fifteen years. Before that he was a day laborer, and did some body-building. No record of violence in his past, never arrested.”
“Thank you, Paul. Find out where he is right now. I want to be ready when that warrant is signed. And have a team on stand-by.”
Owens looks up, startled. “Armed Response, sir? But he’s a priest.”
“Who used a sixty-pound statue to push someone’s face through the back of said-someone’s head.” Kate grimaced. “I think we can safely say without offending anyone that the man is dangerous. Bring on the guns.” She turned to Pierce. “What about Peter? If Father Walker was going to him at all, he could be in danger. Especially if Walker figures out that we’re on to him.”
Hagen frowned in thought, then nodded slowly. “Very good, Miss Gardener. All right, Paul and I will wait for the warrant. Rick? Go to Bedlam and keep an eye on Mister Hamilton.”
Pierce quickly stood. “Yes, sir.” He turned to start toward the nearest door, a walk that led him right by Kate.
“Can I come with you?” Pierce slowed, the quiet notes of her voice bringing him up short.
“To Bedlam?” She nodded her response, her eyes focused on him. Pierce hesitated only a moment. “Yeah, c’mon.” He yanked the glass door open and exited out into the hallway. Kate jumped out of the chair and hurried to catch up to Pierce.
***
The ride was a silent one until…
“How’s your shoulder?”
Pierce glanced at her. She was sitting in the passenger seat much as she had in the chair at Lambeth, her head leaning against the back, eyes closed. Or at least they were closed. Now those brilliant blue eyes were fixed on him. Pierce smiled, and wiggled his left shoulder a bit. “Much better. Thank you.”
“So… are all those tattoos from your army days?”
He hated to admit it, but Pierce had wondered just how much attention she was paying to him when she plastered those mentholated patches on him the other night. He’d just about fainted when she told him to take off his shirt, but the feel of her fingers running over his shoulder, chest and back… he could still feel them, firm in their pressure, yet gentle, soft…
“Most of them, yeah.”
“I have to say, I was surprised.” Kate chuckled. “You’re so straight-laced otherwise.”
“You’re joking.”
Kate laughed outright then, and Pierce was glad that he could be a part of lightening her mood, even if it was at his expense.
“I am many things, Miss Gardener, but ‘straight-laced’ is not one of them.” He paused for a moment, considering whether to venture on to the topic of what transpired on Friday, and decided it was worth it. She was a bit brighter now, and even if it dulled her shine for a bit, Kate needed to talk about it.
“Listen…,” he began, trying to choose the words carefully so he didn’t upset her, offended her. “I’m sorry you had to go through that Friday.
It wasn’t really about you. One of the many perks of being acquainted with me in any capacity. Sooner or later, they’ll strike like the snakes they are.” He glanced to see how she was taking this, his answer came not in appraising how she looked, but in her words.
“They should have studied the personal information they stole more thoroughly.” She reached into her pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighter, and proceeded to enjoy a couple of generous puffs on the cigarette before continuing. “If they had, they would have known better.”
“About your memory?”
“Nope. They would have known better than to pull something like that on me.” She took another drag. “I see… everything, Rick. And I don’t forget.”
Pierce watched her, noting the set in her jaw, the intensity in her eyes, her posture. “I bet they’ll wish you did.”
“Oh, yes. They will.”
They were silent again until the vehicle pulled into a parking spot near the hospital.
“Rick? Can I ask you something?”
Pierce turned off the engine and pocketed his keys. “You can ask me anything, Kate.” And Pierce was struck by the feeling inside of him that, for once, he actually meant it. A feeling he regretted moments later when she posed her question.
“Did you really kill all those people?”
Pierce bit his lips for a minute, then took out a cigarette, lighting it before answering. “Yes. Yes, I did.” He watched her, looking for the anger, the shock, the rejection… and finding none of those things.
Instead, Kate simply nodded her head. “The fog of war.”
Pierce smirked. “No fog. Just war.”
“Right.” Kate sighed. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to remember that.”
“I can’t imagine what it would be like to remember… everything.”
Kate grimaced. “It’s kind of like… war.”
De Profundis (Kate Gardener Mysteries Book 2) Page 12
