by Tania Carver
The look on his face was, she thought, priceless. He wanted her, too, no doubt about it. Here. Now. But it went against every action he had ever done, everything he had ever believed in.
She slid a hand between her denimed legs. She moaned, sighed. ‘All this power in here. And it’s all yours. God, I’m so horny…’
‘Rose…’ He looked like he was about to go into cardiac arrest.
Indecision played across Ben Fenwick’s face, so easy to read. Like he had a cartoon angel on one shoulder, a cartoon devil on the other, and he was listening to each argument put forward, weighing them both up. Rose almost laughed out loud.
Mind made up, he got up from his desk, came towards her.
Immediately she stopped what she was doing, dropped her hands, straightened up.
‘Later,’ she said, pushing herself off the door, picking up the laptop and walking across to the desk. ‘We’ve got work to do. Come on.’
She sat down in the chair he had recently been sitting in. Spun herself from side to side. Smiled. ‘Nice, though. A DCI’s chair in a DCI’s office. I could get used to this.’
‘I thought… thought we had work to do…’
Poor Ben, she thought. Didn’t know if he was coming or going. Put him out of his misery, get down to business.
She reached for the laptop, opened it, powered it up. ‘This was Julie Miller’s.’
‘Past tense?’
Irritation flashed in her eyes. ‘Is Julie Miller’s. I entered her Facebook account. Found this.’ She flicked through some pages, scrolled up and down a screen. ‘Here. Look.’
Fenwick came round the side of the desk to join her. ‘What am I looking at?’
‘Photos. Julie Miller posted her life on here. There’s over a hundred of them. I went through all of them. Found a few coincidences. Well, more than coincidences, really.’
She moved the laptop over, pointed to the screen.
‘What am I looking at?’
The photo was of a house party. Students from the look of it, or at least all young people. Julie Miller was in the centre of the picture, tumbler of wine in one hand, a young man with his arm round her, clamped to her.
‘Him. There.’ She looked at Fenwick, triumph in her eyes.
‘That,’ she said pointing to the screen, voice raised higher than necessary, ‘is Suzanne Perry’s ex-boyfriend. Mark Turner.’
Fenwick frowned. ‘And he’s…’
‘Looking very friendly with our girl Julie, yes.’
‘So… they knew each other?’
‘I did some digging. It would have come up eventually. Julie Miller was at university the same time as Suzanne Perry and Zoe Herriot. Here in Colchester. The same time as Mark Turner. Well, he’s still there. Doing a Ph.D.’
‘And did he say he knew her?’
She shook her head. ‘Denied it.’
Fenwick straightened up. There was light dancing in his eyes now. ‘We might be on to something…’
‘I remembered something Mark Turner said to me. He’s part of a horror-film society that meets in the Freemason’s Arms on Military Road in New Town. So I did a bit more digging.’ She sat back, smiling. ‘Guess who the barmaid was there?’
Fenwick frowned once more.
‘I’ll tell you. Adele Harrison.’
‘So… Mark Turner is connected to all the women in this case?’
She nodded. ‘He is. And that’s something Phil Brennan doesn’t know.’
Fenwick stood up. ‘Then we’d better tell him.’
Rose didn’t move. ‘After the way he spoke to you earlier? Why?’
‘Because it’s procedure. Everyone’s so bloody accountable these days if proper procedure isn’t followed then heads will roll. Jobs will be lost.’
She turned to face him, stopping him leave just with her eyes. ‘But not your job, Ben. Phil Brennan’s perhaps, but not yours.’ She stood up, pushed her body against him. ‘We know something he doesn’t. If we act on it, bring Mark Turner in, while he’s off running round chasing non-existent leads, then we might well have cracked the case.’ She pushed right close against him. ‘What d’you think?’
Before Fenwick could reply, her phone rang. She ignored it.
She smiled. ‘Feeling hard, Ben?’
The phone kept ringing.
He was breathing heavily. But looking irritated. ‘Look, please answer that. It might be important.’
She sighed, took the phone from her pocket, glanced down at the display.
‘Phil Brennan. I’ll ignore it.’
She switched it off.
Fenwick looked slightly nervous. ‘I think you should…’
She put her hands round his neck.
‘Now, where were we?’
69
‘They’ve been dead a while,’ said Phil. ‘Both of them.’
‘I can see that…’ Mickey Philips tried to back out of the bathroom, only to find Anni blocking his way. Reluctantly, he stayed where he was.
‘You OK, Mickey?’ said Phil. ‘Not going to have a repeat of the other day?’
‘I’m fine, boss. Yeah…’
Phil wasn’t so sure. And he couldn’t blame his DS. The bathroom looked like the aftermath of a particularly violent, drunken party in an abattoir. Blood spray covered the white tiles from floor to ceiling, almost like a caricature of slaughter. But there was nothing caricatured about the bodies in the bath. A man and a woman, both fully-clothed, their necks slit open, the wounds deep and fierce, their bodies just dumped without any ceremony.
‘We know he likes a knife,’ said Phil. ‘That’s how he got rid of Zoe Herriot too.’
‘Weapon of choice,’ said Anni. ‘What’s that stuff they’re covered in?’
‘Quicklime, I reckon,’ said Phil. ‘Helps to break down the bodies faster. Hides the smell too.’
‘Lovely,’ said Anni.
‘Good job you were both nearby,’ said Phil.
‘Yeah,’ said Mickey, still trying not to look at the sight before him, ‘wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.’
Anni had told him all about Ian Buchan, the soldier she was tracking down, the boat he lived in. Seeing what had been done to Julie Miller’s neighbours in such close proximity, he had just jumped to the top of their prime-suspect list.
‘I’ll call it in, get a CSI team over here. I’ll just try Rose first.’ He dialled a number.
‘So what d’you reckon?’ said Mickey to Anni while Phil was on the phone. ‘He moved in here, kept Julie Miller under surveillance, then took her off somewhere.’
Anni nodded. ‘But why? Why take her away? Why not just keep watching her or if he wanted to, move in on her?’
‘Don’t know,’ said Mickey. ‘Maybe it’s, I don’t know, the next stage? Whatever he’s got in mind?’
‘But why one after the other?’
‘I don’t know. But I know one thing. That profile from Fiona Welch was a piece of shit. Either she’s not much cop or…’
‘She did it deliberately,’ finished Anni.
Phil put his phone away, clearly not happy. ‘Not answering. She’s bloody useless…’ He turned to the other two. ‘Right. We’ll get a team over here, go over the flat. I’m sure they’ll find surveillance stuff. In the meantime, I want you two to get over the river, keep watch on that boat for anyone coming back. Don’t go after them or try to take them on your own, just keep watch and let me know soon as. I’ll get an armed response team down there straight away.’
Anni and Mickey both nodded.
‘I’ll seal this place up then get back to the station. Brief everyone on what we’ve found. Things are picking up speed, let’s keep on with it. Any questions?’
Mickey looked uncomfortable. ‘Boss…’
‘Yes, Mickey.’
‘Fiona Welch. That profile…’
‘Was awful, I know. Fenwick got her on the cheap. His usual tactic, covering his arse, trying to make savings while paying lip service to what he considers good pract
ice. She’s useless. I’ll get shot of her when I get back. Anything else?’
Mickey seemed to want to say something further but hesitated.
‘OK. On you go. Keep in touch.’
They left the flat.
Phil got on the phone again.
The case was moving.
It felt good.
70
Fenwick’s phone rang. He was still in his office, zipping up his trousers, Rose Martin sitting on the desk beside him, head back and smiling, like a cat that had just been particularly well fed.
Fenwick looked at the display, saw who it was. Phil Brennan.
‘Don’t answer it,’ said Rose, rearranging her clothes, running fingers through her hair.
He looked conflicted once more, his post-coital mood dropping away to reveal his earlier doubts.
It kept ringing.
Rose leaned across, placed her hand on his. ‘Don’t answer it.’
‘I can’t just… I’m the superior officer on this case. It might be important.’
Fire flashed in Rose’s eyes once more. ‘Ben, what have I just showed you? What links have I just made for you? I’ve just given you a lead that’s going to blow anything Phil Brennan’s got right out of the water. Now you can either answer that phone, go running after him or you can come with me.’
Fenwick said nothing. Kept his eyes averted from hers.
‘What’ll it be?’
The phone stopped ringing.
Fenwick sighed. ‘Come on,’ he said.
She smiled. ‘Good call, Ben. That’s the right decision.’ She gave a sly smile, thrusting her breasts out as she did so. ‘And besides, you might just get another reminder of my awesome blow-job technique if you come with me.’
Despite having come only moments earlier, he felt himself stiffening once more. She knew how to press his buttons. And he loved to have them pressed.
‘Come on then,’ he said, unlocking his office door and stepping into the hall.
As he did so, Fiona Welch was walking towards him.
‘There you are,’ she said, ‘I’ve been looking for you.’
He stopped walking. As he did, Rose emerged from the office, bumped into him. Fiona looked between the two of them, a smile spreading across her face.
Fenwick felt himself reddening. ‘I’ve just been… We’ve been looking at a new lead that’s… that’s just come in. That we’ve just discovered. That Rose – that DS Martin has just shown me.’
‘Right.’ Fiona Welch nodded, kept her smile controlled. ‘There’s been a phone call for you in the bar. I took it. DI Brennan. Says he’s got a new lead. Lot of them about.’
Fenwick nodded. ‘Right. Right. Well, I’ve just – we’ve just got to pop out for a bit. Got a lead of our own to follow up.’
‘Oh, whereabouts?’ Fiona’s question was sharp, quick. She smiled. ‘I’m only asking because I’m… doing the geographic profile DI Brennan asked me to do. If you’ve got something I should know where it is, factor it in.’
‘Greenstead Road,’ he said. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me…’
Fenwick, with Rose in tow, squeezed past Fiona Welch. She watched them go. Then went back to her desk. Keyed the information Fenwick has just given her into her BlackBerry.
71
The Creeper had stopped noticing the smell.
He was used to being surrounded by death. Years of living with it on a daily basis had done that to him. There were tricks he used, ways to make them smell less, or to make him not think about them being there so much, but that’s all they were. Just tricks. The actual death, of stopping someone’s heart, seeing the light go out in their eyes, that didn’t bother him at all. In fact, he enjoyed it. And having their bodies around him, the empty husks that had once housed their spirits, just lying on the floor or in another room was nothing. Just more rubbish lying about.
It hadn’t always been like that. Or at least he didn’t think it had. If he thought back hard enough he could remember a time when things were different. Before the fire.
Before the nightmares and the monsters.
In those memories and dreams it was always summer. The colours so vivid, alive. There were swings and laughter. And a girl. Always a girl. Small, smiling. At him. In a kind way.
Not Rani. Not like her.
And yet… not unlike her.
And she would laugh and he would smile and the sun would make the soft downy hairs on his arms tickle. Those dream memories.
And he would open his eyes. And the world would be as it was now. With no colour in it. And there would be no sun tickling his arms. No heat. No fire.
And the girl with her sunny smiles would be gone.
And he would think some more and there would be Rani. Only Rani.
The old woman’s body had started to smell. It had gone through being stiff and impossible to move, like bodies did. And now it was starting to loosen up. Soon it would be nothing more than an old sack of fluid, fat and bones.
The Creeper didn’t care. It was nothing to him.
He was still watching. Waiting. Practising being patient. Willing Rani to appear again.
Rose Martin. That was the name she was going by. But it wasn’t important. He would call her by her real one. Make her answer to it.
He didn’t like that man being around, though. Felt a shaft of something hard and icy hot lance through him when he thought of that man with her, touching her, talking to her… He wished he were nearer to her than across the road. In the house with her where he should be. Living together as lovers.
Soon, though. Once he’d worked out how to go about it. Soon.
He closed his eyes. He could feel her, trying to get through, trying to talk to her.
And there she was.
‘Hello, Rani.’
Hello, my love.
‘I… I’m watching you. Can you see me?’
Yes, I can see you. I always know when you’re there.
He grinned, let out a little giggle. ‘Good.’
Listen, she said, d’you want to come and meet me?
He was too shocked to talk for a few seconds. That wasn’t what he had been expecting to hear her say. ‘Wha-… when? Where?’
She gave him directions.
As for when… Why not right now?
‘Really? You mean that? I don’t need to watch the house any more, I can come and meet you?’
I’d love you to.
He heard the yearning in her voice. No mistaking it. Yearning for him. He giggled again.
But there is one thing. I have to tell you this and you’ve got to know. It’s very important.
‘What, Rani? Anything. You can tell me anything…’
Well, there’s this man. He’s been bothering me. Wanting me to… well, I couldn’t say. But I’m sure you can guess.
And there it was, that hard, icily hot shaft spearing him once more. Making him angry. ‘Is it the one from the car last night?’
She was silent for a few seconds. Yes. That would be him. I want you to deal with him for me. Get rid of him. Would you do that?
‘Of course I would. You know that. I’d do anything for you. Anything.’
She laughed. I know. He’ll be with me. Get rid of him and then…
He waited. ‘Yes?’
You can have me. I’m all yours.
‘I can’t wait.’
Me neither. Isn’t this great? We can be together again…
72
‘You got a minute?’ Milhouse grabbed Phil as soon as he entered the bar. He was trying to be secretive about it, but since he was standing by the door looking shifty and suspicious, he couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d been wearing a trench coat and a trilby with the word ‘spy’ written across the hatband.
Seeing Milhouse, he realised that he hadn’t thought about Marina for hours. With the case moving the way it was, and at the speed it was, that was understandable but he still felt guilty over it.
Milhouse led him over to his d
esk. ‘Those cards,’ he said quietly, ‘the ones you asked me to trace…’ His voice dropped to a stage whisper. He sat down at his computer.
Phil stood over him, waiting. Anxious once again. ‘Yeah?’
Milhouse waved his hands over the keys. ‘Bury St Edmunds,’ he said. ‘Hotel, restaurant, supermarket.’ He looked up, compassion in his eyes. ‘That’s where she is.’
Phil managed a smile. ‘Thanks, Milhouse, I owe you one.’
‘My pleasure.’
‘Could I ask you another favour, though?’ Phil gave a quick look round to make sure no one was in earshot. ‘Could you keep this quiet?’
Milhouse gave what he supposed was an enigmatic smile. ‘I am a keeper of many secrets.’
‘I’ll bet you are,’ said Phil, and crossed the room.
Bury St Edmunds. That made sense. So obvious when he thought about it. Where he should have looked first. It was almost like she wanted him to come, to find her. Suddenly his mobile felt hot in his pocket.
He took it out, ready to call, when he saw Fiona Welch enter. He quickly put it back, crossed to her.
‘Fiona,’ he said.
She stopped walking, looked at him. Her lips had been moving, deep in conversation with herself. She looked up, surprised to see him, startled, as if she had just woken from a dream.
‘Yes?’
‘The geographical profile,’ he said.
‘Yes.’ Her eyes flickered like she was running through her mental Rolodex, working her way round to what he was talking about. ‘Right. Been working on it all morning. Nearly done.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
Fire flashed in her eyes. ‘What? What d’you mean?’
‘We have a suspect under surveillance that we favour very strongly.’ He smiled, trying to play the diplomat. ‘So we won’t be needing it after all. But thanks.’
Her eyes began moving quickly from side to side, like she was scanning something, reading it quickly. ‘What? Who? Who is he?’
‘An ex-squaddie. Burns victim, apparently. Was being treated by both Suzanne Perry and Julie Miller.’
Her features became unreadable. ‘How did you… how did you find him?’
