Monument to Murder

by Mari Hannah

  ‘She knows where it is?’ Carmichael was excited.

  ‘She does indeed. The garage was empty apart from an old motorcycle and—’

  ‘How did she get out?’ Gormley asked, apologizing for the interruption.

  Jo gave a half-smile. ‘She’s her father’s daughter, Hank. She knew something the offender presumably didn’t. Under the motorcycle saddle there was a set of tools. She took the lock off the door with them.’

  ‘Outstanding!’ Kate said, a biker herself.

  ‘How the hell did she manage that if she was heavily sedated?’ Brown asked.

  ‘I guess the drugs had worn off by then.’

  ‘While we had Kent in custody, I bet.’ The comment had come from Carmichael.

  Kate agreed. Her protégée had just taken the words right out of her mouth. ‘Hands up anyone who doesn’t think Rachel was the third intended victim?’

  Not one detective raised a hand.

  Jo was about to say something more when Kate asked another question of her team. ‘OK, anyone here think that Walter Fearon was involved in Rachel’s abduction?’

  Still no takers.

  ‘For what it’s worth,’ said Gormley, ‘I think we’re dealing with two separate incidents. Whatever is going on in Fearon’s head, it’s to do with his obsession with Emily McCann, not Rachel. I think he killed Stamp because he was jealous of the friendship he had with Emily, something he may have picked up on at the prison. I could see it a mile off that day we bumped into them at the beach.’

  ‘Yep, I could too,’ Daniels said. ‘Fearon might be vicious but that doesn’t mean he’s not intuitive. In which case Emily and Rachel need a safe house right away. They can’t go home, that’s for sure.’

  ‘My house in Jesmond is standing empty,’ Jo said. ‘If it’s acceptable to you and the guv’nor, Emily can use it until Fearon is no longer a threat . . . until you pick him up, I mean. She and Rachel have stayed over with me on occasions. They’d be happier there than at an unfamiliar place.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Kate yawned, then apologized to everyone. It was hot in the room and she was fading fast. ‘It’s your home.’

  ‘It makes sense.’ Jo threw a set of keys at her.

  Kate caught them. They were her old keys. She recognized them from the little silver house on the end of the key ring. The sight made her sad. Too tired to argue the toss with Jo, she acquiesced. ‘OK, I’ll have a word with Ron. If he clears it, that’s a done deal. Thanks, Jo. One more job I won’t have to worry about.’

  ‘There was something else in that lock-up.’ Jo’s tone was serious. ‘Apart from the bike, I mean.’

  Oh God! ‘Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?’

  ‘On the contrary, you’re going to love it.’

  All eyes were on Jo.

  ‘The scene Rachel described was completely bizarre. At first, I thought she’d experienced some kind of drug-induced hallucination. She told me there was a table and two chairs set for a party in the centre of the room: balloons, paper cups, beautifully wrapped presents, a set of clothes . . .’

  ‘I’m not loving it yet. What made you think it was something more than a hallucination?’

  ‘She mentioned a set of pearls . . .’

  94

  THE LOCK-UP WAS exactly as Rachel had described it: a damp, claustrophobic space with a party scene at its centre. A paper cloth with a pink ballerina motif was draped over the table, on top of which were matching cups and plates, curly straws. Glitter sprinkled over the lot twinkled under a bare light bulb as it flickered uncertainly directly overhead, heightening the creepy image.

  Staring at the table, Rachel was upset as it dawned on her how very lucky she was to have survived her ordeal. Kate gave her a hug and stroked her hair, nodded towards the door behind her, a heavy hint for DC Lisa Carmichael to take her home.

  ‘This is beyond weird,’ Hank said. ‘There are some sick bastards around.’

  Kate didn’t answer. She was too busy thinking, her eyes fixed on the string of plastic pearls. They were not covered in glitter. Her impression was that they had been placed on the tabletop afterwards, the crowning glory, a finishing touch to the gross scene. Whoever the perpetrator was, it was clear that they were ready to kill again and would have done so had Rachel not escaped in the nick of time.

  ‘Get SOCO in here!’ she said. ‘Or CSIs or whatever they call themselves these days.’

  Hank went outside and gave instructions for the crime scene investigators to move in. The photographer immediately got to work, lighting the place up with a series of camera flashes to document what they had found for later use in court. Kate Daniels could almost see the distressed faces of the jury as they examined this lot.

  When Hank returned to her side, she was mulling over the trio of prison officers still in the frame.

  ‘I was just thinking,’ she said. ‘If Kent was off duty when Rachel went missing, then so too were Walker and Harrison. They were all on the same shift pattern according to their duty roster.’

  ‘Good point,’ Gormley said. ‘Rachel’s Vic could’ve been any one of them.’

  ‘Yeah, but which one?’

  Gormley shrugged. ‘They’re about the same age, vaguely similar in appearance. At her own admission, Rachel was legless when she met him, on subsequent occasions too, and heavily sedated after the abduction. I guess older men look much the same to an unhappy binge drinker. Short of showing her their family albums, we’re screwed in terms of identification. She seems to have blanked out his face completely.’

  ‘Understandable,’ Kate said. ‘She was seeking a father figure and found a monster. Jo is fairly sure the memory will return to her, given time.’

  ‘Assuming the bastard we’re after isn’t someone else entirely,’ Hank countered.

  ‘Nah, Andy checked with the Home Office. Only six officers were transferred up here when HMP Coleby closed: Kent, Walker and Harrison, plus Officer Cohen – who we know was deceased by the time Rachel went missing – and two others who couldn’t cut it up here and were shipped out to establishments in the south. I had Andy chase them up. One was out of the country. The other works at Wandsworth now and he was on a training course. Half the prison service can verify that. It has to be one of those three.’ She paused. ‘Kent’s in no position to refute the evidence we put to him. I had another go at him this morning, but he still won’t cough.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean he’s not guilty.’

  ‘True.’ Kate sighed. ‘Do we know who owns this place?’

  ‘Not yet. Robbo’s checking it out.’

  ‘Whoever killed Sophie took Rachel, agreed?’

  Gormley nodded.

  ‘Then the way I see it is this: Kent can’t prove he didn’t kill his daughter but if he agrees to my proposal, he can rule himself in or out of Rachel’s abduction. If she fails to ID him, he walks.’

  ‘You going to run an ID parade?’

  ‘Not necessary if he agrees to let her take a look at him.’

  Hank raised an eyebrow. ‘You think he will?’

  Another flash from the camera.

  ‘Only if he’s not guilty,’ the DCI said.

  95

  ‘IT’S NOT HIM.’ Rachel’s head went down.

  Daniels felt guilty. It wasn’t the outcome either of them had hoped for. When she’d asked Rachel McCann to face a suspect she thought might have been Vic, the girl had gathered her courage and jumped at the chance. But the man she was looking at now was not the man who had abducted her. She was standing so close to Kent, she could almost touch him through the glass. There was no hesitation in her answer, no doubt either. Why should there be? She knew Vic personally. They had got drunk together. He’d courted her almost. They had never been intimate, but she knew him well.

  ‘Is that it then?’ she said.

  ‘I’m sorry, Rachel.’ Kate swept her arm towards the door. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you to reception.’ She led the disappointed twenty-year-old out of
the viewing room and along the corridor. Hank was coming the other way, a question in his eyes. The DCI shook her head – almost imperceptibly – letting him know that Kent was in the clear.

  ‘Will you organize a lift for Rachel?’ she asked him.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Rachel said. ‘I can get the bus.’

  ‘No, you won’t. Your mother would kill me!’ Kate insisted. ‘You were in hospital overnight and it’s a long way back to Jesmond.’

  ‘Oh, we’re not staying at Jo’s place now,’ Rachel said.

  ‘Since when?’ Kate was outraged.

  Hank hovered close by. He had that look. The one that meant he knew something the DCI didn’t. That wasn’t a good place to be. Particularly in the middle of a level one murder case when your boss hasn’t been to bed and things aren’t exactly going to plan.

  Rachel looked puzzled. She’d picked up on the unspoken aggro between them. ‘Is there something wrong?’ she asked.

  ‘Course not,’ Kate lied. ‘I was under the impression you were staying there for a few days until we get things sorted out, that’s all. I’m always the last to hear of a change of plan, aren’t I, Hank?’

  Rachel looked at her accusingly.

  Kate lowered her gaze to hide the fact that she was withholding information. Rachel didn’t understand what was going on. Why should she? She hadn’t yet been told about the death of Martin Stamp and therefore had no clue about Fearon or the threat he posed to her and her mother. All the professionals, including the doctor who’d treated her, agreed it was best not to add to her anxiety by telling her there was a second, equally scary, psychopath on the loose.

  ‘So why are you acting like my mum does when she doesn’t want to worry me?’ Rachel asked. She wasn’t fooled by the attempt to fob her off. ‘I’m a grown-up now, Kate. You guys don’t have to protect me, you know.’

  ‘It’s not that, Rach . . .’ Gormley flicked his eyes towards his boss. ‘Kate’s a grumpy bugger when she’s been up all night. She’s pissed with me for cocking something up. I can’t tell you what it is, but it’s nowt for you to worry about. Happens to us all from time to time.’ He grinned. ‘What’s the worst that can happen? She’ll either forgive me or sack me.’

  It was a complete fabrication, but Rachel appeared to swallow it. Kate moved quickly on, asking her to wait in reception while they found someone to take her home. Then she and Hank walked back through the double doors to the corridor beyond. As soon as they were out of sight, she rounded on him.

  ‘Mind telling me what the hell is going on?’

  ‘Fearon was spotted by a social worker in Sheffield earlier. The woman called the police and the idiots rang Emily—’

  ‘Before ringing us?’

  ‘Wanker probably wanted to play the hero.’ Gormley made his best mindboggling face. ‘Emily rang Jo saying she no longer required her place. Jo rang me when she couldn’t get hold of you. That’s how come you were the last to find out.’

  Kate was appalled. ‘Well . . . did they get him or not?’

  Gormley shook his head. ‘He was gone by the time the local plods arrived.’

  ‘Jesus! So they don’t even know if it was him. What if it’s a false report, Hank? What then? I saw Stamp’s body when that bastard had finished with it. It wasn’t pretty, I can tell you. A vengeful attack is one thing, but that was rage, pure and simple. There’s no telling what he’ll do if he gets hold of Emily. I want the name of the numpty who told her she was safe to go home on my desk in ten.’

  Gormley lifted his hands like she was holding a gun.

  ‘Don’t yell at me. It’s hardly my fault.’

  ‘Who the hell else would I yell at?’

  Kate was pacing now, visibly tired and angry with it. False sightings of offenders had taken many an SIO’s eye off the ball and put lives at risk, occasionally with disastrous consequences. It was unwise to take one woman’s word that Fearon was no longer in the area, no longer a serious threat to Emily McCann. Kate pulled up abruptly, took a deep breath in and then let out a big sigh, trying to calm herself down.

  ‘Contact the social worker concerned. Check out just how well she knows him. We can’t afford to drop our guard.’

  ‘You want me to fix up a panic alarm at Emily’s place?’

  ‘Oh, that’ll work. The Stint is fifteen miles from the nearest nick. It’ll take for ever to get there in an emergency.’ Kate shut her eyes and then opened them again, letting out an almighty sigh. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to have a go at you. And yes, I want an alarm – in fact I insist on it, even if it is utterly useless. If Emily argues, you can tell her I won’t take no for an answer. Now go!’

  ‘Can’t you talk to her? Explain you’re not happy—’

  ‘You think she’ll listen?’

  ‘She might.’

  ‘No, she won’t. You know how stubborn she is. She certainly won’t be pushed around. She just wants to go home and get her life and her kid back to normal. And who can blame her? She won’t play the victim either, not for him, or anyone. It was all I could do to persuade her to go to a safe-house in the first place!’

  The door behind them creaked open.

  Rachel looked worried and vulnerable as she stepped into the corridor asking them not to be mad at her mum, telling them she was the one who’d wanted to go home. She’d been listening at the door and completely misread the situation. Her eyes were filling up. She was scared to death.

  ‘You think Vic is coming back for me, don’t you?’

  ‘No, honey.’ Kate pulled her close, rolling her eyes at Gormley. Vic was only half the threat. ‘We’ll find him, Rachel. You have my word.’

  96

  KATE SLAMMED HER hand on her desk.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ Hank asked.

  ‘The only thing we can do. Bail Kent out for further enquiries.’

  ‘You sure?’

  She nodded. It wasn’t a brave decision. She firmly believed that whoever had taken Rachel had killed the others, so Kent was off the hook. Besides, she had to sleep. She just had to. She’d been working for thirty hours solid. Her concentration was dropping like a stone and it would only get worse the longer she went without rest. Asking Hank to take over, she set off for the B & B. Rachel was safe now. The other victims were long dead and another few hours would make no difference to the case.

  As she drove, the macabre image of a little girl’s tea party in that filthy lock-up kept going round and round in her head. It brought to mind her father’s dead twin, the aunt she never knew. Mary’s death had affected him greatly. Still did, decades later. These two unconnected events and Rachel’s alertness in leading them to a crime scene had given her a glimpse into a killer’s past.

  She called Jo.

  ‘You were right about an act of devotion,’ she said.

  ‘You found the lock-up?’

  ‘Yep, and I’m betting the person we’re after lost a daughter or sister at an early age. He’s marking an anniversary of some sort, as crazy as that sounds. A birthday in all probability. It means Lisa can now concentrate her efforts on the back record checks and search specifically for an incident involving a young child. I just wanted to thank you and let you know where we’re at.’ Her voice broke. When they were together, she often used to debrief with Jo on difficult cases and had always felt better for it. It wasn’t so easy now they were living apart. ‘Actually, I just wanted to hear your voice.’

  ‘Get some rest,’ Jo said. ‘You sound shattered.’

  Kate wiped a stressy tear from her cheek.

  Words failed her and she hung up the phone.

  AT THE B & B, she fell into bed but couldn’t settle. After only three hours’ sleep, she showered and made her way back to the station, arriving shortly before four p.m. Ron Naylor was there when she arrived, her sounding board should she require one, he told her.

  A hastily arranged briefing focused on Kent’s release on bail. There was universal agreement within the squad that he was an inno
cent victim rather than a perpetrator of murder. With no time to indulge that thought, Kate turned her attention to the two men still in the frame. She had reason to suspect Harrison and Walker and sufficient cause to make an arrest.

  They were brought to the station under protest an hour later, Gormley and Carmichael interviewing Harrison, the DCI and Brown having a crack at Walker. But after two hours of intense questioning, neither pair were any further forward. Both suspects refused a request to take part in an ID parade, denying any involvement in Rachel’s abduction, the disappearance of Sophie Kent or the murder of Maxine O’Neil.

  ‘Well, that was predictable,’ Kate said as she left the interview suite.

  ‘Bail them out.’ Naylor was resigned. ‘There’s no hard evidence to hold them.’

  ‘Apart from the fact we know one of the arseholes is responsible,’ Hank scoffed. ‘Harrison was a dick throughout the interview. I could happily have punched his lights out.’

  Kate was only half-listening to his tirade. In her mind’s eye she was picturing Walker in the interview room, his uniform on. It set her wondering what shift he was working, a plan forming in her head.

  There was an alternative to a straight ID parade.

  She looked at Maxwell. ‘Were they both at work when you picked them up?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Any idea if they’ve gone back?’

  ‘They did. I dropped them off myself. Thought it was the least I could do, given that their vehicles were at the prison. Walker was quiet in the car but Harrison . . . well, let’s just say he didn’t shut up the whole way. He kept bleating on about an official complaint. Said the Governor was going to hang you out to dry.’

  Kate shrugged. Like she gave a shit. She was used to being complained about.

  ‘I got the impression he started at two, if that’s any help, boss,’ Maxwell said. ‘So finishing at ten would be my best guess. Walker is probably the same. You want me to get on to prison admin and check it out?’

  ‘No, someone might tip them off. Call Jo and ask her to do it surreptitiously on my behalf. Do it right away. But tell her it’s strictly hush-hush.’ She looked at Robson, who was sitting beside the window, a flurry of snow falling gently behind him. ‘Robbo, assuming Neil comes back with the right answer, I want you to speak to division and organize a street identification at the prison at ten o’clock. If they argue about the lack of notice, just refer them to me. Tell them I’ll let them know when and where to collect the witness. I’ll sweet-talk Rachel. I’m sure she’ll agree to go through with another ID.’