The door behind them opened and Fuller popped his head out. ‘You two. In here.’ His tone wasn’t very positive, nor did it give them a feeling it was going to be an uplifting conversation.
Byrd and Tanzy locked their computers and went inside the DCI’s office. They took a seat in the two empty chairs opposite him.
‘Updates, gentlemen? Start with the fire?’
Tanzy spoke first, telling him there were no further leads from a forensic point of view. He mentioned the trainer that PC Amy Weaver had matched to a pair of Adidas Sambas but also stated that they could have been bought in hundreds of shops anywhere in the country.
‘What about the missing four women?’ Fuller said, tapping the desk with his thick fingers. It was clear Fuller was becoming impatient. Earlier, when Fuller’s door had been open an inch, they’d heard him on the phone. Sounded like a conversation with the superintendent about progress, saying how they weren’t any further forward.
Tanzy shook his head in reply to the question.
‘There are too many open cases right now. We need to start closing them. I’m getting heat from above and you know what happens when I get heat from above?’
They didn’t need to answer. They both knew that shit rolled downhill.
‘Work harder…’ he said.
Byrd and Tanzy nodded and left, closing the door on their way out.
Byrd sat down. Tanzy stopped at his desk chair and told Byrd he would go see DS Stockdale, see if he was any further forward on the case of the four missing women.
The office was full. A wave of mixed conversations danced from wall to wall. Keyboards were tapping, mugs of coffee and tea being raised and lowered back on desks.
DS Phil Stockdale sat at the opposite end to where Byrd and Tanzy sat. His desk was the closest to the wall. Through the window next to him, he had a nice view of St. Cuthbert’s Way, watching cars and vans pass by.
As Tanzy rounded the last row of desks, he noticed Stockdale was hunched over, looking at something on his desk. It was obvious he hadn’t heard Tanzy approach because when Tanzy spoke, he jumped and fumbled with something in his hand.
‘Oh, hi, boss.’ His face reddened. ‘Didn’t see you there.’
Stockdale had short black hair, clean shaven, and was thick-set. When people learned he used to play rugby, it didn’t come as a surprise to them due to his stature.
Tanzy stopped in front of him, watching him curiously. ‘What you up to?’
He looked at his phone and shook his head, then placed it into his pocket. ‘Ahh, nothing.’
Tanzy was aware that Stockdale previously had issues with gambling in the past. It had almost ruined his marriage after the thousands of pounds he’d wasted, digging himself into debt. He made a promise to his wife and also to Tanzy that he wasn’t doing it anymore.
‘How – how can I help, sir?’ Stockdale said, the colour of his face turning back to pink again.
‘Any further on the four missing women?’
Stockdale sighed, looking up with his emerald eyes. ‘No, sir. Not yet. I need to make some calls.’
Tanzy nodded and turned, then stopped. ‘Phil…’
‘Yeah?’
‘If you need help with something, you only need to ask me. As well as your supervisor, I’m here to help you as a friend. With matters inside and out of work. You know that, don’t you?’
Stockdale nodded appreciatively and watched Tanzy return to his desk. Stockdale pulled out his phone and unlocked it, then immediately logged out of the site, then deleted his internet history.
23
Friday Afternoon
Darlington
Jane Ericson smiled to herself in the rectangular vanity mirror in the bedroom of her fourth-floor flat. To call it a flat would be a lie, although it wasn’t much more. When advertised, her eyes had lit up when it had been labelled a ‘Luxury Apartment’ in the window of the estate agents situated on Duke Street. She'd immediately taken a fancy to it, whether it was the flat itself or because it had been given such a fancy name. Of the two bedrooms, her bedroom was the biggest. The other bedroom, almost half the size, was filled with open rails of clothing and sealed boxes. Hanging dresses, t-shirts, and garments along one wall, and the other, contained a shelving unit filled with folded items, such as skirts and jogging bottoms.
Her phone pinged with a text message on the vanity unit in front of her. She'd been waiting for the reply and smiled. Picking it up, she noticed it was from Suzie. She read the message, Suzie confirming that she’d meet her in William Steads at seven-thirty with the others.
It had been a few weeks since they’d all been out together and promised to be a good night. She knew most of them from school, and even now, eight years on, most of them were friends and made the effort to see each other on a weekly basis.
The time was four-thirty. She had a few hours to go and had already been showered and put her foundation on. She stood up, made her way over to the bed, and sat down, pulling her closed laptop toward her. She opened it, logged on, and waited for the ancient thing to boot up.
Once the internet page loaded, she clicked on her bookmarks and found the page, then waited nervously. It was the second time she’d done this and hoped it would excite her as much as the first time. The screen came up. There she was, sitting in the chair. Up in the corner of the screen, there was a small list of usernames, people that were joining the session. She noticed her name, Ericj4, second on the list, although the list didn’t indicate any relevance of order.
After the session ended, she sighed heavily and slumped a little. Then she got to her feet, went back over to her vanity unit, finishing her make up. She made a quick phone call to her friend, asking when she was picking her up, then checked her bag a few times to make sure she had everything for her night out.
The time was approaching 7.15 p.m.. She stood at the front door of the flat and checked herself in the dark purple maxi-dress that she’d chosen to wear, complimented by black high heels. Her dark hair had been curled, ringlets nestled over her shoulders and down her chest. Her green eyes stood out like emeralds against the jet-black eye shadow and eyeliner.
Somewhere outside, she heard a car horn beep several times. Then a text message pinged on her phone in her small bag, her friend, telling her she was outside. Jane grabbed her keys, opened her door, locked it, then got in the lift in the hallway.
As soon as Jane stepped inside the lift, she pressed the button, turned to face the front, and waited for the lift to take her down four floors.
Mackenzie Dilton watched her through the camera up in the corner. He’d hacked into the CCTV of the flats and had taken control of the system. Usually, the cybersecurity of such a modern block of flats would have been much harder to access, but whoever had set it up, hadn’t done the best job, although he wasn’t complaining.
Judging by her choice of outfit, it wasn’t hard to guess where she was going. He’d seen the purple maxi-dress in her small bedroom when he was there yesterday, checking the electrical wiring that had played up the day before. Fancy the chances of her electrics not working properly and him putting a business card in her letterbox the same day. What a coincidence.
Roger Carlton electrics.
Yesterday he had been to have a look around the flat, aimlessly checking the sockets and switches, pretending he knew what he was doing. When she received a phone call and went into the kitchen, he’d taken out his listening device and placed it under the desk where her laptop was. Then, being the hero he was, he checked the main supply from the consumer unit on the ground floor, flicked the switch, and voila, the power came back on. The trip to her flat was also useful to know if she lived alone, which, after asking her if having no electricity would affect anyone else in the flat, she told him she did live there alone.
The time on the office wall clock told him it was nearly 7.30 p.m.. He got up, went to his bedroom to put on a shirt, jeans, and some shoes. He then headed out, into town, in the direction of William
Steads.
Hours later, Jane stumbled home, disorientated, stuffing cheesy chips into her mouth from the white Styrofoam container in her hands. Garlic sauce dripped down her chin onto her maxi-dress, but she didn’t notice, nor did she care. She was going home after a really good night.
She turned left into Trinity Road and started dawdling up the incline as if she were a baby learning to walk, struggling to stay in a straight line, her strides not quite in sync, feeding the chips into her mouth as she went.
Stanhope Park sat in darkness on her left. A few eerie murmurs came from somewhere in the park, but she ignored the sounds, not bothering to look. Whoever they were, if they stayed out of her face, there wouldn’t be a problem. Without looking for approaching vehicles as she came to the end of the path, she crossed the road on Vane Terrace, then stepped up onto the kerb in the direction of her flat.
The sounds of her heels occasionally scraping off the path every couple of steps reminded her she’d had too much wine, but she’d had fun and that’s all that mattered, apart from the disagreement with Lexi about an American television show. Funny thing was, she couldn’t even remember what it was about.
Mackenzie Dilton waited next to the pillar at the opening of her apartment car park, watching her coming towards him. The darkness around him was a blessing, although, in her current state, her blurred vision would probably mistake him for a tree, or a strange-looking plant pot.
He watched until she was only metres away, then hid back in the shadows, waiting till she passed. As she did, he could hear her heavy breathing through the struggle of walking and eating at the same time. The smell of her perfume still lingered around her like an invisible bubble, albeit not as strong as it was when he was standing next to her in Green Dragon a few hours before. She’d spotted him at the bar and shouted, ‘Hey, you’re the electrician!’ They idly chatted for a little bit before she introduced him to a few of her friends, who smiled because that’s what people did to be nice. Each place she and her friends went to, he was there, watching in the shadows.
Waiting.
Waiting until she made the short walk home.
She unevenly made her way to the front door, then stopped before it, remembering she’d need a key to get inside. She closed the half-eaten chips container and fumbled with her bag, lifting the flap too quickly, causing her phone, keys, and several coins to fall out and cause a racket on the floor.
Dilton stepped out from the dark and made his way over to her.
She didn’t hear him coming.
24
Early Saturday Morning
Darlington
‘Let me help you with that,’ Dilton said.
Jane Ericson wearily turned after hearing the voice behind her and squinted at him as he approached. Although she was plastered, there was a flash of recognition. She’d seen him somewhere before.
He bent down, picked up her items, and handed them carefully back to her, apart from her keys.
She grunted something inaudible.
‘Sorry?’ he said.
‘Trician…’ She hiccupped violently. It threw her body forward a few inches, then she smiled. ‘You electrician…’
‘That’s right. I’m just coming home. Do you want me to open the door?’
She nodded three times, her head feeling loose on the top of her shoulders like it wasn’t connected properly. Like a Churchill dog on a car’s parcel shelf. He slowly moved around her, took a few steps toward the door, then used her key to gain access. He held the door open and waited, then jumped forward to grab her when she tripped over herself and started laughing. Some of the chips fell out onto the floor.
Leaving them, he guided her in, letting the door close, looking up at the windows of the surrounding flats. There was no one around.
The corridor was familiar. The lift was to the right. Beyond that was a cupboard.
He guided her toward the lift and pressed the button, then said, ‘Wait here.’ He moved over to the cupboard, opened it, and leaned inside.
‘Was’ that?’ she slurred, leaning against the wall, looking down at the bag in his hands. It was the type you’d take to the gym, long, narrow, black in colour.
‘Oh, this? I forgot it earlier,’ he said, with a smile.
She stared at him, her eyes glassy and half-open as if she could fall asleep at any moment. Seconds later, the lift door pinged open, the sound echoing in the silent building.
‘Let me help you.’ He gently took hold of her arm and led her inside, then placed the bag down to his right, so he could support her weight to prevent her falling. He leaned to the left and pressed the button for floor four on the control panel. In a sober state, she would have questioned why he was there. Or why he had pressed the top floor. She’d have known he didn’t live on the fourth floor because she lived there, and there were only three flats on that floor. Unless he was helping her?
The doors pinged closed and the lift sluggishly started to ascend.
‘Wait a second,’ he said, letting her go for a moment, bending down to his bag. He unzipped it, pulled out a full head mask; it had a built-in filter around the mouth area with a large space for the eyes made from glass. The top and rear of it was made from thin flexible rubber.
‘What is that?’ she asked him, swaying unsteadily as the lift went up.
He smiled, then placed his hands inside, pulled it over and onto his head, making sure the bottom of it provided an even seal around his throat and his neck.
‘You look like a spaceman,’ she joked, a thin smile lining the edges of her mouth. ‘Looks cute.’
‘I’m glad you like it,’ he said in a distorted voice. He then bent down to the open bag and pulled out a spray can. It was the size of a WD40 can but instead of having a push spray mechanism at the top, it had some kind of circular pin. He placed his forefinger into the ring and yanked it upwards.
It didn’t take long for the green gas to come out of the top and start filling the lift.
Jane looked confused, seeing the green mist start to fall and pool in the bottom of the lift, quickly rising.
‘It’s like green rain…’ she said, kicking it playfully.
Dilton stood watching her with wide eyes. He didn’t move or change his focus. He knew the lift was filling, now up to their waistline.
‘Have you ever suffocated?’ Dilton asked her.
Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head. ‘No. I go to bed now. Tired.’ Her words were becoming more incomprehensible.
She coughed a few times until it become continual. Worried, she dropped her small bag to the floor of the lift and put both her hands to her mouth. Her phone, some coins, her ID, and items of make-up fell out under the green mist, rolling across the floor in all directions.
She couldn’t breathe now, not getting enough oxygen. Dilton watched the panic in her eyes. Her frantic eye twitching, her sudden body jerking forward and backward realising she wasn’t getting the air she needed to breathe. It was only getting worse.
‘You can’t breathe, can you?’ he whispered. ‘You’re getting no air.’ His eyes wrinkled at the edges as he smiled behind the mask.
She clawed at her throat, willing it to open up to allow some clean air inside. But the green mist was up to their chest now, taking over, depleting the level of oxygen inside the small space. She turned, banged on the lift door several times with a clenched fist, then hit the buttons on the control panel, but each time, weaker than the last, until finally, she cried out as the green mist filled her mouth. She took one last breath and collapsed on the floor of the lift.
25
Saturday Early Morning
Darlington
When the lift reached the top floor, the doors opened. Before committing to fully stepping out, Dilton leaned out to check the small corridor.
No one there.
Absolute silence. He grabbed the bag and threw it out first, then went back and placed his hands under her armpits, dragged her out slowly, and lowered her to the fl
oor. He gathered her items up, put them in her bag and dropped them inside his holdall.
Once at her flat door he removed her keys from his pocket, unlocked it and edged it open.
Once he was inside, he pulled off the mask, then went back out for the bag and for Jane then closed her door. He flicked on the light switch to his right and the short, narrow hallway lit up with cold, bright light. The bathroom was to his left. The kitchen / living space was straight ahead. And to the right, two doors led to the bedrooms. For one, he had to admit, it was a cozy apartment – he’d thought the same yesterday.
Leaving her curled up on the floor, he walked into the kitchen, made his way over to the left toward the French doors that led out to the small, rectangular balcony. The area was only two feet out, four feet wide. A viewing point at best, surrounded by a black, metallic railing. Dilton imagined it would be the perfect spot to stand and drink a cup of morning coffee, watching the town wake up, the noise gradually growing with early morning commuters on their way to work. With the double doors locked, he used the built-in lock to open it, and without making a sound, he gently pulled them towards him.
Night air gently slapped his face, noticeably cooler compared to how it felt on the ground level. He closed his eyes, took a lungful, and slowly breathed out like he had all the time in the world. The view was amazing, he had to admit, seeing for miles around. Although it was just after three in the morning, the night sky had a vibrant quality about it, the sun hovering just below the skyline, eager to rise from the east for another hot summer’s day.
He looked down at the balcony railing for a moment. The railing was made up of thin cylindrical metal poles that were fixed to the base of the balcony, spaced three inches apart, going vertical to the handrail, which was flat, roughly two inches thick.
No One's Safe: DI Max Byrd & DI Orion Tanzy book 3 Page 8
