Last Gasp

by Robert F Barker

  'She told me about how she met you during the Ancoats case, then again during the Escort Murders enquiry and you became close. That a stake-out went wrong and Hart attacked her. How you blamed yourself. The trouble you had with it after.’

  She didn’t mention about the counselling, but he assumed she knew. If Angie had told her so much, she’d have mentioned that as well.

  Jess continued. ‘She told me about Shepherd coming to see her. What he said to her. What he wanted her to do. Like you, I was mad as hell, but she said you were sorting it. She didn’t know how but it didn’t matter. It was enough to give me some idea of what you’ve probably been going through.’

  Carver felt the blood rushing into his face. He’d never felt so exposed in his life.

  'Have you spoken to Rosanna since?'

  She nodded.

  ‘You told her?’

  'Most of it.'

  He turned away, ‘Fucking JESUS.'

  From nowhere, Carver’s worst fear had become reality. He wondered what the effect would be, especially on Rosanna. It didn’t matter how much Angie had told her. It had started and it would all come out. Everything. He let out a heavy sigh.

  'Thanks, Jess.'

  She rounded on him again, her stare fierce. 'Don’t be going all self-righteous on me.’ She jabbed a finger. ‘It was you kept things hidden. Rosanna at least deserved to know. You should have faced up to it before now. You’re supposed to know about these things. Work it out, but don’t blame me for asking questions. I’m on your side, remember?'

  Carver stared at her. Up to now, he’d only ever seen Jess as his DS, their relationship defined in terms of their rank difference. Now, suddenly, she was no longer his junior, but a determined woman with a point to make. Not criticising, nor judging, just saying it the way she saw it. But he was still angry. The root of it, of course, was shame. And embarrassment. Knowing that didn’t help.

  As if sensing it, she softened her tone. ‘It doesn’t matter, you know? It’s in the past. Rosanna just wants you back. You and Angie were in a crazy situation, even she realises that.' Then she added, 'Angie said you shouldn’t let it ruin things.’

  He could see the sense in what she was saying. But it didn’t excuse anything.

  'What I… What we did was...' He groped for the words, struggling to express what he’d never talked about before, to anyone. He was even finding it hard to look at her. ‘It was unprofessional.’

  'Rubbish. It was just two people caught up in the situation they were in. Simple as that. If you ask her, Rosanna will tell you the same. Don’t dwell on it Jamie. We’ve both seen some crazy stuff the past few weeks. You’ve heard what Megan Crane says. It doesn’t make you a bad person.'

  He gave a deprecating snort. He’d said it himself, many times, but had never really believed it. But this time it was Jess saying it. Sensible, rock-steady, Jess. Had he been wrong all this time?

  He sighed. 'Maybe. If you say so.'

  ‘I do.’

  He nodded. It was time to move on. Other matters demanded his attention. But she had one last question.

  'I suppose Professional Standards will want to see me?' She sounded resigned.

  For the first time, he realised. She would be worrying about her job. Prosecution even. He shook his head.

  'They don’t know it wasn’t me who accessed Angie’s file.'

  'But won’t it come out if-'

  'Don’t worry about it. It won’t. Trust me.'

  She gave a wan smile, stole his line. ‘If you say so.’

  'I do,' he said, likewise.

  For a long while they said nothing, letting the silence draw a line under the subject. She asked what he’d discovered on his trip.

  'Just a minute.' He pulled his bottom drawer, moved a couple of manila folders, took out the bottle of Macallan. There was dust on it. From another drawer he produced two glasses. He passed them across to her and she ran a tissue round them. He poured a measure in each, offered one to her. To his surprise, she took it, more so when she knocked it back in one. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a drink in his office before dark. Those days were long gone. He showed her the bottle again but she shook her head, the sensible one back on. He re-ran the briefing he’d given The Duke, telling her about what he’d learned from Franky.

  Her eyes widened as the surprises kept coming.

  The Worshipper scenario wasn’t Cosworth’s?

  Two others present?

  A blond woman? And a man called Eddie?

  Edmund Hart?

  ‘Oh. My. God.’

  She threw him the same questions as The Duke. How could it be? What does it mean? What then about Cosworth? As before, he had no answers. He fell silent, giving her time to get used to it – whatever ‘it’ was. Then her face changed. ‘Tell me again about this woman. What did Franky say her name was?’

  ‘Trish, or Tricia, or something like that. She wore a mask so there’s no way we’re going to be able to- Jess?’ As he’d talked, her attention had shifted, eyes glazing over.

  'What? I’m sorry, I was just thinking of… something….'

  She’s going again. 'What is it?'

  She hesitated for a moment, checking herself. 'You’re probably going to hate me for this. Especially after the Angie thing.'

  He made a wry face. What could be worse than Angie?

  'There’s something I never told you. I didn’t think it was important because… well it just didn’t seem to matter. But… this thing about a blonde woman, and the hairs? And now there’s a blond whose name could be Trish or Tricia? And we’ve talked about maybe looking for someone who presents as sub, but may actually be dom?’

  'Christ Jess, just tell me will you?'

  She focused. And told him about the night Megan had introduced her to her house-slave, Tracy. Tracy with the blond ponytail. Tracy whose name isn’t so far away from Trish, or Tricia.

  Not for the first time since they’d started talking, Carver found himself speechless. He’d known she and Megan had grown close, but never that close. He stared at her, trying to grasp it.

  'Nah, it would be too much of a coincidence.’

  'Not if Tracy is targeting Doms. Don’t forget, we chose Megan because she fits the victim profile.'

  'That’s true….' He wondered if the twists and turns in the case were making them see shadows. Whether his scepticism about Cosworth being a lone killer was making him susceptible to fanciful theories. He weighed it, decided it wasn’t.

  'Who is she? What do you know about her?'

  Jess shook her head. 'All I know is, she sees her fairly regularly.'

  Carver cast his mind back. Once, Megan had given them a list of occasional ‘acquaintances’ - as a ‘just in case’ contingency. He tried to remember a Tracy. He mentioned it to Jess. 'Was she on it?’

  Jess looked abashed. 'She said it was one relationship she absolutely had to keep private, for Tracy’s sake. We weren’t interested in women then and were still in the game of building trust, so I gave her some slack. She left her off it.'

  Carver bit his lip. But after not telling The Duke about Shepherd, he was in no position to criticise. He was already feeling the rush that comes when an unexpected but potentially promising lead presents itself. In his head, he began running what-ifs.

  After a couple of minutes he stood up so suddenly Jess jumped. She had gone back into herself. She looked up at him. She seemed confused, mouth hanging open. His keys lay on the side of the desk. He snatched them up.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  'To see Megan.'

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

  ‘Not this time. I think she and I need a private chat.’

  Chapter 58

  Megan sounded scornful. 'Tracy? Don’t be ridiculous Jamie. I’ve never heard anything so absurd.'

  Her reaction was what he’d anticipated, but he wasn’t going to push too hard - yet. He didn’t want the barriers to come up.

  'How
do you know about Tracy anyway?'

  He waited, letting her work it out.

  'Jess.'

  He nodded.

  She gave an apologetic look. 'It was a bit of silliness. It shouldn’t have happened.'

  'It doesn’t matter. Tell me about Tracy.'

  She went quiet, thinking on it, then began. 'Her name’s Tracy Redmond. She lives somewhere over in the Cheadle area.’ Over the next few minutes she told him what she knew. It wasn’t much. Tracy had been coming to see her for around eighteen months. She was into the fantasy of enforced, sexual-slavery. Every now and then, she liked to play the part of Megan’s house-slave for a few days, a good deal of it spent chained up in the Playroom. She left her off the list she’d given Jess because Tracy was sensitive about her position. She was a barrister, or so she’d told Megan.

  He asked if she ever showed interest in switching.

  'Never,' she said, but then caught herself.

  'What?'

  'Did Jess mention, Arthur?' His bewildered look was answer enough. 'He’s another… special friend. He was there the same night I introduced her to Jess.' Carver sighed, wondering what else they hadn’t told him. 'Sometimes I make Tracy top Alex. It’s part of the game.' Carver waited, saying nothing. 'I think she enjoys it.'

  He asked for Tracy’s address. She said she didn’t know it. Seeing his sceptical look she said, 'Honestly, Jamie. She’s never given me her address. She’s a bit paranoid about being found out. She says it would ruin her.’ Megan brightened. ‘But I’ve got her mobile number.' She left the room and came back with her mobile. Brought up a number, showed it to him. He rang it through to the MIR, telling the duty DS to run an urgent subscriber check. When he came off the phone he saw her confused look.

  'You’ve not told me what this is all about yet. Why are you suddenly so interested in Tracy? And what’s happening about Cosworth?'

  He thought about how much to tell her. For her safety, it was time to fill in some of the gaps. He told her about the blonde hairs, the CCTV footage Alec had found, what he’d learned from Franky, though he left out the bit about Edmund Hart. As he spoke her eyes widened, As Jess’s had done.

  He spread his hands. 'It could all be coincidence. But you can see why we’re interested.'

  She nodded, but still looked doubtful. 'If… if somehow Tracy was involved in some way, why hasn’t she done anything to me before now? She’s had plenty of opportunities.'

  Carver remembered Cleeves’s theory about the killer leading up to something. 'There’s a theory the killer could have a grander plan. Maybe you’re part of it.’ She shuddered, and the thought he’d frightened her gave him a strange feeling. He lowered his tone. 'There’s something else.' She sat up, gave him her full attention. 'Gary Shepherd’s disappeared.' Her brow furrowed. 'He’s not been seen since he came to see you.'

  For long seconds she did a good job of not giving anything away. But her silence and too-calm reaction spoke volumes. She lifted a hand to her mouth.

  'What?' he said.

  She hesitated. Once before when he’d caught her out, she’d looked abashed. He saw the same look now. She took a deep breath.

  'The night Gary came to see me, he was being… I didn’t like the way he was. I thought he needed teaching a lesson.'

  'What sort of lesson?' Surely not-

  'He was being… superior. Acting like a prick. I decided to show him how foolish he was.' She avoided his gaze, bowed her head.

  'You didn’t…?' She nodded quickly, her hair bouncing and shimmering.

  'I took him into the Playroom. Tracy was there.'

  'Ohhh Shit.' Carver said. He hardly dared ask. 'Spare me the details, but what happened?'

  'I shouldn’t have done it, but he was being such an arse.' She actually looked contrite. 'I played with them. I made sure he knew I don’t like being treated like an idiot.'

  He couldn’t believe it. 'You and Gary? And this Tracy?' He slumped back in the sofa, not sure whether to laugh or cry. But Gary disappearing afterwards left no room for humour. 'What happened after?'

  'Tracy was planning to go home that evening. I was supposed to drive her. Because she was late, Gary offered to take her.'

  'She left with him? Oh, Christ.'

  She tried to sound reassuring. 'Believe me, Jamie. I know her. I’m sure his disappearing isn’t anything to do with her.' But there was less confidence in her voice than there had been.

  'Are you sure you don’t have her address?' He let a doubtful note sound. 'Gary’s life might depend on it.'

  But she seemed in earnest when she said, 'Honestly, Jamie. You can search the house. If I had it, I would give it to you, if only so you can rule her out. I’m sure when Gary turns up, you’ll find it’s nothing to do with her.'

  His phone rang. He listened for a few moments, then said, 'No, thanks. I’ll get back to you.' He put it away, frustrated. 'Tracy’s mobile’s a pay-as-you-go. We can’t trace the subscriber just off the number.'

  'What if I ring her?' she said. 'I could make an excuse to see her.'

  'Good idea.' They agreed a story and she called the number. The voice said that the phone wasn’t in use or may be switched off.

  'Damn,' he said. 'I’ll get our tech people onto it. They may come up with something.'

  Drained by the day’s succession of revelations, he rubbed at his forehead. A dull pain was starting.

  'Let me get you something,' she said.

  She poured him a Jameson’s and came and sat next to him on the sofa. He remembered her fragrance. Shalimar.

  'This must be so difficult for you all,' she said. ‘And I do hope Gary’s alright. I know you and he don’t see eye-to-eye, but I’m sure you wouldn’t wish him any harm.'

  He shook his head. She was right. Whatever his thoughts about Shepherd, he didn’t like to ponder the possibilities if the last person to see him alive was this Tracy, and it turned out she was connected with the killings. Glancing at Megan, he could see guilt in her face. He tried to reassure her.

  'It isn’t your fault. You were just giving him what you thought he deserved. Any other time it would be amusing.' His curiosity got the better of him. 'As a matter of interest, how did he…?'

  She flashed a wicked smile. 'Putty in my hands.'

  'I can believe that,' he said. Again, he stifled the impulse that nearly made him chuckle. She slapped his knee, playfully, but left her hand resting on it. He drank his whiskey.

  'It must be especially hard, for a man like you.' She rubbed his knee, the top of his leg.

  ‘What does that mean?' He came on guard. But her face showed only sympathy.

  'I know what goes on inside that head of yours, Jamie Carver.'

  She lifted a hand to his left ear and combed some hair back.

  He moved back. 'I don’t think so.'

  She sat forward on the edge of the sofa, took his hand.

  'I’ve been part of the scene for a long time, Jamie. I know what men like. What they want.'

  He made to get up, but she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him, gently, back. He thought about resisting but the way she was sitting, she might end up on the floor. He didn’t want to overreact and cause an embarrassing incident.

  'It’s alright,' she said, 'Don’t be embarrassed. I knew that first day. I could see the struggle within you.'

  'Megan, I’m not-'

  ‘Shhh.’ She pressed a finger to his lips. When she spoke she did so softly, almost a whisper. 'You saved my life, Jamie. I’d never hurt you. I just want you to know, that I know.' She leaned into him, the finger replaced by her lips. Not a kiss, an invitation.

  Carver felt his heart thumping. There was a drumming in his ears. But she seemed calm, utterly in control. Her dreamy eyes played with his, burning into his brain, delving. Her breath mingled with his own.

  'I can help, Jamie. If you want me to.'

  He didn’t answer. So beautiful.

  'Do you want me to?'

  Somewhere deep inside, a voice
he’d listened to once before - in another life - cried, YES' He wrestled with it, trying to ignore it. He’d known this moment would come one day. He’d steeled himself for it. But it was harder than he’d ever imagined. She pressed her mouth to his, her tongue encircling his as it had, briefly, that night. The memory of it had never left him. But this time it lingered. She cupped a hand to the back of his head, pulling him to her. His head swam and her scent was all around him.

  He let go.

  Suddenly she was in his arms and they were kissing, urgently. His hands roamed over and under her dress, now holding her face, running through her hair. She slid, easily, into his lap as they took each other’s tongues, deep. She began to fall backwards, pulling him with her, down into the sofa. He went to follow, but sitting up the way he was, he could only go so far. He pulled back a little to adjust his position, scrabbling at his collar, tearing at his tie. Their mouths separated and as he yanked his tie off she fell away from him, arms reaching out, eager not to let the separation last.

  In that moment, as he looked down at her, and from where he would never know, Rosanna’s face, sad with tears, swam before him. Suddenly he saw the chasm into which he was about to disappear. He hesitated. As if sensing what was about to happen she tried to claw him back. Too late.

  He stepped away from the edge.

  In one fluid movement, he lifted her off him, stood up and deposited her gently back on the sofa, dropping his head and shoulders to slip from under her arms. He moved quickly to the other side of the room.

  'Jamie?' A hurt whimper.

  'I’m sorry Megan. It’s not going to happen. And if you know me as well as you say you do, you know why.'

  She propped herself on an elbow, waves of glossy-black hair falling, provocatively, over her face. She was heart-achingly desirable, and he knew he had to get out, fast. Grabbing his jacket, he headed for the door. Without stopping he shouted back over his shoulder. ‘'I’ll let you know if we get anything on Tracy.' He slammed the front door behind him.

  On the doorstep he gulped a lungful of cool, night air, just as he’d done after the last time she’d kissed him. He let it out slowly, and headed for his car.

  Megan Crane remained sprawled across the sofa for several minutes longer. She was smiling, but also berating herself. She’d underestimated him. But she knew now she had been right. She had seen it in his eyes. The hunger. The fear. If she’d played it a bit longer, she’d have had him.