The Detective Jake Tanner Organised Crime Thriller Series Books 1-3 (DC Jake Tanner Crime Thriller Series Boxsets)

by Jack Probyn

  ‘Where’s Poojah?’ Liam asked.

  ‘Day off. I’m filling in for her. We’re both equally qualified, don’t worry.’ She hesitated, shot Liam a derisive look and then twisted towards the dead bodies. ‘Judging by the state of this crime scene, I’d say he came in, and then—’

  ‘What’s the time frame?’ Liam interrupted.

  ‘It couldn’t have been more than thirty, maybe even as little as twenty minutes ago,’ Jake added, bringing his mind to the present. And then he realised what house they were in. ‘Guv,’ he continued. ‘This is the house… the guy that got out of the cab. He came here. It was… it was Lester. He wandered into the house without us even realising who he was.’

  ‘Right under our fucking noses.’

  ‘Who found them?’ Jake asked, turning to the uniformed officer.

  ‘The husband. He came back from work late. He’s round the next-door neighbour’s house now,’ said the officer.

  ‘Did he witness anything? See anyone coming out of the house?’

  ‘I don’t know. But the back door’s been smashed open and there’s traces of blood in the garden and along the fence.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Jake said. He turned out of the kitchen and headed outside through the front door. The rain continued to fall, and he slipped on the final step. Catching himself on the metal railing, he steadied himself and ran into the road. He looked up and down, left and right.

  Nothing.

  They had lost Lester. And what was worse was the fact that Lester knew who Jake was. He was mocking him. Rubbing it in his face. Using his own name against him.

  Lester had just made it personal.

  CHAPTER 71

  HIDEAWAY

  Lester’s muscles ached. He was fatigued and mentally exhausted. The Communion had been over quickly – too quickly. Much quicker than he would have liked, but he knew it was necessary. The longer he spent in the house, the longer he drew attention to himself and the more he risked being caught. In fact, he’d been cutting it fine as it was. That bastard husband had come within seconds of walking in on him. During the Communion, his victim’s husband had texted to say he was round the corner, running late from work. Lester had seen the message and left through the back garden. He’d been forced to rush through the message he’d left on the wall. He wanted to take more time with it, more care, more precision. But instead he’d had to sacrifice the luxuries and hurry it. The message remained the same.

  Darkness had swept through the streets of Stratford and the roads were dimly lit, tinged a deep orange and yellow. Lester headed west on Temple Mills Lane, crossed the bridge over the railway lines and waited by the nearest bus stop, sheltering himself from the elements. He leant against the narrow bench, his weight bowing the plastic advertisement for erectile dysfunction behind him. Overhead was the digital timetable displaying the schedule for when the next three buses were due to arrive. The number seventy-three – the one that would take him to his next location – was only a few minutes away.

  As he waited, he relived the Communion, re-experienced the short time he’d spent in the woman’s company. The look on her face as she’d regained consciousness just before he’d slit her throat. Her soft skin. The baby’s, even softer. How little they’d protested. The Nasties had been satisfied. But only for a short while.

  By now, he was certain the police would have found the bodies and would be looking for him, which meant he couldn’t afford to slip up. Not now. He had to think calmly, rationally, logically. The majority of murderers and rapists and criminals always made their first mistakes within the first couple of hours following a crime. Lester wasn’t about to become another statistic.

  A minute later, the bus arrived. Double-decker. Lester lifted his head, glanced at the driver and boarded the bus. He paid using a five-pound note and climbed to the top level, finding a seat at the front. His favourite. Now he could see everything in front of him.

  As the bus swerved in and out of lay-bys and streets heading north on the A112, a dozen police vehicles charged past, their sirens blaring and lights flashing.

  Lester needed somewhere to stay nearby. Urgently. Somewhere he could lay low, somewhere under the radar. Carl and Jessica’s property was off limits for now; it was too far away. And the longer he spent out in the open, the more he risked being seen.

  But he had the perfect answer: the other property nobody knew about. The semi-detached two-bedroom in north Stratford. His little secret. The one he kept unoccupied all year round for this exact purpose. On one occasion he’d even invited someone round for a Communion. It even had its own red bedroom that had been inspired by Jessica and Steven Arnholt’s.

  Lester disembarked the bus a hundred yards from the house on Nutfield Road, wandered up and down the street, recceing the road and the house, before doubling back and inserting his key into the lock. As he entered, his senses and body were on high alert for any unwanted signs of attention.

  There was nobody – and nothing – in sight. Nobody knew he was there. Nobody knew the property existed. It was perfect.

  Lester was greeted with the smell of damp; the house hadn’t been used in a long time, and it was beginning to show. He entered and eased the door shut behind him. Beside the door was a two-metre-long mirror. Lester paused and looked at himself. His hair was wet and dishevelled, and thick caterpillars of blonde hovered centimetres above his eyes. His skin was red, rouged with excitement and adrenaline, and his eyes had turned black. Lester grinned at what he saw. He wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t an animal. Of course he wasn’t. He was a normal human being leading a normal life. And fuck anyone who says anything different.

  ‘One last time,’ he told himself. ‘One last time. One last time never hurt anybody. And then after that, lay low. They’re onto you. Just now was too close. One last time.’

  Lester leant closer to the mirror, his breath fogging the underside of his face. ‘But if you’re going to do this, you need to make it a good one. Make it one you’ll never forget.’

  CHAPTER 72

  EVERYTHING IS READY

  Lester stepped out of the shower and placed his feet on the bath mat. Steam clawed its way up the bathroom mirror slowly as he wrapped his towel around himself. The shower had helped him relax, calm himself before the next visit from The Nasties.

  With his towel still around him, he dropped down and did some push-ups, placing his feet on the toilet seat for better development and growth in the upper region of his pectorals. After cranking out fifty, he wiped away the steam from the mirror and stared at the enhanced muscles that the short bout of exercise had produced. He was a specimen – a fine specimen – and he intended to keep it that way.

  He left the bathroom and headed to the bedroom. In the middle of the room was a large double bed that had never been slept on. A thin layer of dust carpeted everything in sight. Beside the bed was a table. He ambled up to it, opened the top drawer and took out a mobile phone and a business card.

  He sat on the bed and twirled the business card in his fingers. It felt old and soft, as if the prolonged shelter from oxygen in the drawer had weakened the material. But still, its contents were visible.

  It was the number for a brothel. One that he’d used years ago after he’d celebrated the tenth anniversary of his parents’ death. He’d needed a release of excitement then, and he needed one now. In fact, Lester had loved their service so much he’d kept their details.

  He switched on the phone, waited for it to load and then dialled the number. The SIM card was registered to him, but the usage was so infrequent, and the deal so cheap, he seldom received any marketing or sales calls asking him to upgrade and change tariff. It was almost as if the number didn’t exist. So long as he continued to pay the bill every month, there was no issue – the service provider got their money, and he got their service. And he liked to keep it that way.

  Lester stared at the silhouette of a woman on the card and licked his lips. It conjured images of his last experience wi
th them. Martina. That was her name. She was beautiful, and she had made the evening all the more beautiful for him. He remembered the look of surprise and mild excitement on her face when he’d showed her the effort he’d gone to in the bedroom. He wanted her to feel comfortable, for her to be able to enjoy their first time together. He’d wanted it to be memorable. And, to his surprise, it was. For both of them. Martina had told him that it was the best experience she’d had with a client. Still, to this day, it was one of his finest accomplishments.

  ‘Martina,’ he whispered, getting a hard-on as he said her name.

  For a moment Lester wandered if she was still there, and whether he could get her to come to his. But he knew that wouldn’t be possible. She was the opposite to Jessica, and he couldn’t tarnish his experience with someone who looked different. The red hair. The curvy hips. The freckly face. The green eyes. It wasn’t right. No, if he deviated from the pattern now, then everything he’d worked for would have gone to waste – and he’d leave The Nasties unsatisfied.

  She had to be perfect. Anything else wouldn’t do.

  Lester dialled the number.

  It went through to voicemail.

  He tried again.

  This time, somebody answered.

  ‘Yes?’ This time it was a woman.

  ‘I’d like to book a hair appointment,’ Lester said. He hoped the catchphrase hadn’t changed since he’d last used the number.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Now. As soon as you can fit me in.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘My place. I’ll text you the address after we’ve finished the call.’

  ‘OK. Let me see if we have someone available. Do you have any specific requirements?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lester said excitedly. ‘She has to be tall, tanned, skinny, and brown haired. Her eyes must be brown, and she must be called Jessica.’

  ‘One moment,’ the female voice said. There was a long pause, and Lester tried to keep calm, but it was difficult. With every passing second, his breathing rate increased, as did his blood pressure.

  ‘Hello?’ the voice asked after a while. ‘Yes. We have a girl that is suitable for you, and she is available straight away, but her name is Jennifer. Is that OK?’

  ‘No,’ Lester snapped. ‘Jessica. It has to be Jessica. It would be wrong if it was any other name. I’m sorry, but I hope you understand. Her name must be Jessica.’

  Lester touched himself as he called out the name.

  ‘One moment please.’ The woman disappeared again, and Lester waited. His moment of erotica subsided, and his penis quickly went flaccid. The sensation had been fleeting, but he knew it was building to something larger.

  The woman’s voice distracted him again. ‘I’ve just found someone for you. She’s exactly what you’re looking for. Tall. Dark hair. Slim. And her name is Jessica. But it will take her an hour to get to you. Is that OK?’

  Lester checked the alarm clock on the bedside table. It was just after nine. An hour would do.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, trying to hide the excitement in his voice. ‘That will be fine. Tell Jessica I look forward to seeing her. I’ll text you my address now. I’ll be waiting for her. I hope she’s ready. Tell her she doesn’t need to bring anything. I have everything here already.’

  CHAPTER 73

  NO NAMES

  Jake, Liam and the rest of the Major Investigation Team were still at the crime scene, trying to piece together what had happened. In the past half hour, they’d made little progress. Except for the call they’d made to Stratford Cabs, enquiring about Lester’s trip. Jake – and the rest of the team – learnt that Lester had used Jake’s name for the booking. Hearing the news made him feel even more sick than he already did. Now Lester was mocking him, and Jake wasn’t about to stand for it.

  He was standing in the middle of the kitchen doorway, unable to tear his eyes from the dead bodies. The victims’ names were Nina Deckart and her daughter Maxine. The sight of the small baby on the floor horrified Jake. It made him think of Ellie. How she’d been ripped out of Elizabeth as a way of bringing her into existence; how, paradoxically, another baby had been ripped from existence on the same day.

  ‘Where’s he gone?’ Jake asked, turning his back on the kitchen and focusing on his colleagues in the hallway. Liam, Drew and Garrison stared at him blankly.

  ‘Well, shit me,’ Garrison said. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. Why didn’t we think to ask ourselves where he is? We could have saved ourselves a whole lot of time if we’d just thought to ask it sooner. Absolute genius over here.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Jake said, still aware that he had a Regulation 13 notice looming over his head. He wasn’t back in everyone’s good books just yet. ‘I mean… where is he? Where would he have gone? Where could he have gone? Eh?’

  Silence.

  Jake pondered aloud, letting his mind run away with itself, regardless of what the others thought or said. ‘Lester would need to be looking for somewhere secure. Somewhere he knows. Somewhere he feels safe… comfortable. Somewhere nobody else knows.’ Jake paused. ‘He’s just attacked again. He’s on a high. He’s excited, pumping with adrenaline. His mind is too clouded to think rationally. Like a frightened animal he’s running back to somewhere safe. Maybe even paternal. Maternal. He needs somewhere he can calm down and think. He needs somewhere to recuperate. Where?’

  The three men looked at him, devoid of any expression.

  ‘The last one was an actual question…’

  ‘Oh,’ stuttered Garrison.

  ‘He… he…’ muttered Drew.

  ‘A home,’ Liam said. ‘He needs a home. His home. One of them.’

  ‘Which one?’ Garrison asked.

  ‘It can’t be any of the ones we’re watching – I’ve not heard anything from uniform to suggest he’s gone back to any of his registered properties.’

  ‘It has to be one we don’t know about,’ Jake added. ‘The place he killed the unidentified victims the other day? Somewhere near. Somewhere still in the city. If he’s gone on foot, it’ll be even closer. If he’s gone by public transport, that stretches the radius, but only marginally. It’s going to be a place he can reach quickly.’

  ‘How do you plan on finding it, genius?’ Drew asked derisively. Jake sensed he wasn’t committed to this plan. ‘We’ve been through all the records, we’ve cross-referenced the databases – we’ve found all of the properties that he’s the landlord for.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s used an alias. Perhaps it’s a family member’s that he never changed the name on. Perhaps he’s used Sampson’s name. We all know how much he idolised that freak. It could be any name, I guess.’

  ‘That narrows it down,’ Drew retorted. ‘Anyone. It could be anything. It’s like the press conference all over again – absolutely clueless.’

  ‘I mean, you can either help,’ Jake said, ‘or you can go home and let us finish the job without you. It’s pretty simple. If you’ve got nothing better to do than just insult me and take the piss out of my suggestions… If you think you’re such a hero, Sherlock, then why don’t you come up with one of your own?’

  Drew fell silent, his face turning pale. He looked down at the table as a response escaped him. None of the three men said anything. Jake wondered if it was because they were intimidated by him suddenly or whether it was because they were all deep in thought. Jake thought neither situation likely.

  ‘Widen the search,’ Liam said, taking them all by surprise. ‘See if any of his family members or friends have any properties lying around the place.’

  ‘He inherited the business from his dad – that’s got to mean something.’

  ‘We’ll get to it,’ Drew said.

  Jake stepped out of the hallway and moved into the living room. He checked the time – 9:55 p.m. Nina and Maxine had been killed just under two hours ago, and they were all still twiddling their thumbs. And it was getting late. Elizabeth and the baby would be sleeping, exhausted after the events of the day, but he wante
d to hear his wife’s voice – or at least know that she was OK.

  Jake called his mum.

  ‘Jake?’ she began. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m fine. I just wanted to check up on everybody. Where are you?’

  ‘At the hospital still. I’m with Martha and Alan.’

  ‘Elizabeth? Ellie? Maisie?’

  ‘They’re all OK, Jake. They’re sleeping at the moment. Elizabeth’s been out for hours already.’

  ‘Good.’ A smile grew on his face. ‘I just wanted to know they were doing all right.’

  ‘How’s work? Should you be calling?’

  ‘Probably not. I can’t explain—’

  ‘That’s fine. I understand. So long as you’re keeping safe.’

  ‘Of course I am,’ Jake said. ‘Isn’t it past your bedtime?’

  ‘Funny. Although I think Martha’s trying to have a competition to see who can stay the longest. She’s wrong if she thinks she can beat—’

  At that moment Jake’s work mobile started to vibrate. He looked at the screen. It was another call from an unknown number.

  ‘Listen – Mum – sorry, I’ve, eh… got to go. I’ll speak to you later. Love you. Bye!’

  Jake hung up the call with his mum and answered the other phone.

  ‘Hello?’ he said.

  ‘Detective Tanner? I was told to get in touch with you if we received another call…’

  CHAPTER 74

  22:03

  ‘Are you sure about this, Jake?’ Liam asked as they hurried towards Liam’s car.

  ‘One hundred per cent.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?’

  ‘I’m telling you now…’ Jake said sheepishly.

  Liam sighed. ‘If this doesn’t work, it’s on you.’

  Jake was completely aware of the ramifications of his actions and decision-making. If he turned out to be wrong – and they let Lester slip through their fingers again – he was prepared to accept the Regulation 13. Until then, he’d have to have the courage of his convictions.