DCI James Hardy Series Boxset

by Jay Gill

  Norton was loudly and indignantly protesting his innocence but broke off momentarily when he caught sight of Vaughan. The casual onlooker would have never guessed the two men were acquainted at all until Vaughan broke away from the constable, got up in Norton’s face and hissed, “I’m going to make sure you rot in jail.”

  Norton stepped back with an expression of disgust. “Keep this lunatic away from me. I have no idea what any of this is about. All this is absurd, utter nonsense.”

  All of our heads turned now as the dark, sleek car of Prime Minister Lafferty sped away. I turned back to look at Norton. I could see the physical change in him as he was left behind and the reality of his predicament struck him.

  He put on a brave face, but I could see the fear in his eyes.

  Chapter Fifty

  Norton never made it to trial. Using political influence or pressure or good old-fashioned blackmail, he managed to get bail. As soon as he was released, he took a private jet to Germany. From there he flew to Morocco, after which his movements became unclear. Some said he boarded a yacht owned by a wealthy Saudi businessman, where he was wined and dined and given a hero’s welcome. Some said he wound up in Moscow, where he planned to use his contacts to arrange lucrative financial deals. The truth was, it was unlikely we would ever know the whole story.

  What we did know was that his freedom was short-lived. George Norton fell to his death from the balcony of a luxury hotel in Dubai. Unofficial reports suggested that for several days he had been a guest of the hotel and had been seen at a number of lavish parties. Witness statements indicated he was enjoying an opulent lifestyle that included women, drink and drugs. Toxicology reports found alcohol and cocaine in his bloodstream. The young woman he’d checked into the room with was never traced. A report of two men seen entering the room immediately before the incident was dismissed by local officials, as it could not be corroborated. Norton’s death was quickly concluded to be death by misadventure.

  In his prison cell, Jared Vaughan found comfort in knowing Norton died the way he did. He preferred the unofficial report he was given – of Norton being terrified as two burly men were deliberately let into his luxury suite by his female companion for the night. They had dragged him kicking and screaming across the floor, restrained him, and forced a mixture of alcohol and cocaine down his throat. The young woman, who had hated every second of her time with him, had spat in his face. The two men had then dragged him out to the balcony and hung him over the railing so he could get a good look at where he was headed. After several seconds of pleading for his life, he was dropped fifty-two floors to his death.

  Vaughan received life imprisonment. He knew he would never be released. During the trial, stories of Corporal Vaughan’s outstanding war record emerged. His lawyers painted a picture of him as a victim. A man who found himself in an unimaginable situation and who was lied to and let down by his country. A war hero who was vulnerable and should have been receiving treatment for post-traumatic stress but had instead been targeted, groomed, exploited and turned into a deadly weapon for the financial gain of George Norton, at the time a respected and highly regarded politician whom Vaughan should have been able to trust.

  Vaughan’s fight for pioneering treatment to save Becky never stopped. A tabloid newspaper took up the war hero’s story and set up a “Save Becky” campaign. The public response was overwhelming, and the money was quickly raised. Becky was flown to the US, where she underwent an experimental but highly successful procedure. The delicate operation and post-operative treatment went well, and doctors were cautiously optimistic. A foundation called “Becky’s Hope” was set up to help other children in situations similar to hers.

  Father Nolan visited his friend in prison. By all accounts, it was a highly emotional meeting, at the end of which the two men prayed together. The priest gave Vaughan three books: Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist, the complete works of Shakespeare, and the King James Bible. Vaughan would pick up the bible from time to time but wasn’t ready yet to ask for forgiveness. He marked a quote he regularly referred to:

  Therefore no one will be declared righteous in God's sight by the works of the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of our sin – Romans 3:20

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Rayner and I sipped Cobra beer; the empty plates from a curry sat on the floor beside us. Alice and Faith were asleep, and Monica was watching Little Women in the front room. I’d heard her sniffing back tears, so I guessed she was enjoying it.

  I leaned back in my big old comfy chair, stretched and thought of Monica sitting alone. I knew she was good for me, and I wished I had more time to spend with her right then.

  Rayner and I had reviewed the case file from DS Jones and had instantly seen the similarity in the way the body of Nicole Jenkins had been found to that of the victims of the Angel Killer. Though the similarity was clear, however, the brutality was new. This was an attack on two people – Nicole and a man who worked as a fitness trainer – and it appeared frenzied. The last thing I wanted was to pursue a dead end. I looked at the photo of Nicole again; her arms had been crossed almost lovingly across her chest. No, it was too similar. There had to be a connection. What linked her to the other women?

  “I don’t see it. This has to be a copycat,” said Rayner. “We run the danger of wasting our time looking for something that isn’t there. Some prick is playing games here. This is most likely some nutter trying to throw us off, using the Angel Killer’s MO to cover his tracks. Damn, I hate this case.”

  He didn’t mean it. Rayner was simply tired and frustrated; we both were. We were working long hours and neither of us was getting enough sleep.

  The crime scene photos clearly showed Nicole in the same folded-arm position as the Angel Killer’s other victims, but it was the images of Patrick Hicks I found most disturbing. If this was the work of the Angel Killer, then this was the first time, to my knowledge, he’d killed two people at the same time. Nicole was a married woman; the other victims had been unmarried. Why would he change his behaviour? Why take that chance? And why had the extra mutilation to Patrick Hicks been necessary? He’d really gone to town on him.

  Was the Angel Killer evolving, I wondered. He was certainly bolder. This attack had taken place out in the open; until how, he’d kept a low profile. So, one similarity and a whole lot of differences. I sighed. Maybe Rayner was right; maybe this was a dead end. Maybe we had another killer on the loose. But without a pattern of behaviour to follow, we might never catch a break. How could you profile someone whose behaviour was so erratic?

  “Look at what he did to Hicks,” I said, pointing to one of the crime scene photos. I was thinking out loud, and Rayner played along. “He damn near castrated the poor sod. This is the work of someone who’s angry and wild. Yet, the earlier killings show planning and control.”

  “Maybe Hicks said something AK didn’t like?”

  AK, meaning the Angel Killer. I noted the abbreviation. “There are so many differences. What if this – the location, maybe, or the fact that the two were together – meant something different to AK? It’s also much more personal. Perhaps he’s testing his boundaries or experimenting. Perhaps he made a mistake. What if these two simply saw something they shouldn’t have?” I passed Rayner a fresh beer.

  “The other main difference is her.” Rayner held up the picture of Nicole as he took the bottle.

  “Agreed. She’s older. She’s married.”

  “Right. Then there’s Hicks. Whom AK clearly took a major dislike to. Perhaps AK got turned down by Hicks for gym membership?” Rayner smiled weakly.

  “A fitness instructor. Women, women, women.” I flicked through Hicks’s file again. I slowly ran my finger down a list of names. “Rayner, you’re a genius. If I’m right, Hicks really picked the wrong wife to screw around with. He didn’t have a clue who he was pissing off. Here.” I handed Rayner the list. “These are Hicks’s clients. Seems he specialised in fitness for women. Not one male name. Any
of those names stand out?”

  “Not really. What am I looking for? You think Hicks was offering a little extra to lots of bored housewives, perhaps?”

  “He obviously had a relationship of sorts with Nicole Jenkins. Why not more of his clients? Keep looking – there’s a name we’ve come across before. Can you see it?” I let Rayner go through the list of names and said nothing. If he saw it too, then I knew we might have a real development in the case.

  “Melanie CUTLER.” Rayner stood up and then sat down again. “No bloody way.” He took a long swig from his bottle of beer. “Her husband was that creepy little git we interviewed after Stacy DiMarco was killed. It has to be him. I shouldn’t say it, but he creeped me out the moment I laid eyes on him. Slimy little bastard.”

  “Let’s not get carried away. Let’s do this properly.” I didn’t want to admit it, but this was the breakthrough we needed. If Melanie Cutler was anything to do with Michael Cutler, then we could be on to something.

  If she was Cutler’s wife and she was screwing around with Hicks, then we had motive.

  The fact that Cutler also knew Stacy DiMarco might just be the cherry on the cake. We might have just found the Angel Killer.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  I hoped I was doing the right thing by us all. I’d been going over the pros and cons in my mind for weeks now, and on balance it felt right. I just had to hope Alice and Faith agreed. I decided I would speak to the girls first. They were the key; if they were happy about it, I felt sure everything else would fall into place.

  This had to be a unanimous decision; it was important all four of us believed it was right for us. It would mean big changes, but changes for the better. At least that’s what I hoped.

  Right now, I had no idea how Alice and Faith would react. Would they refuse because of memories they associated with the house? I knew I had precious memories. But I also knew that if I were ever going to move on and love again, it would require a fresh start.

  There was something personal I needed to do first, though. I carried Helena with me every day, and there would forever be a place in my heart for her. I needed to visit her.

  I pulled up outside the church and sat in the car with my thoughts for a moment. The car park was empty. I got out and walked around behind the church, where there was a small area for memorial plaques.

  A small blue and yellow bird flew down and watched me for a moment before disappearing back into the hedgerow. I placed a bouquet of Helena’s favourite flowers, purples and whites, down beside her plaque.

  “I suppose you know why I’m here,” I said softly. “In fact, you probably know better than I do why I’m here. I just want you to know that I finally feel ready for the next step. I still don’t have all the answers, and I now understand that’s okay. I know you’ve been helping me, guiding me, cajoling me to this point. I needed it.

  “The girls are beautiful, and they remind me of you in so many ways. Alice especially, in the way she’s strong like you. She’s going to be a real fighter. Faith is the cheeky one and always wants to make everyone laugh. She’s so inquisitive, too; she wants to understand everything. They’ve both coped so well. I hope you’re proud.

  “Monica has been there for us all. I still believe it was your intention, whether you knew it or not, that she be part of our family when you were taken from us. She has cared for our girls, nursed them, wiped away their tears and loved them as you would have wanted. And I’ve fallen in love with her. I know you want me to be happy. I want you to know you’ll always be here, in my heart. Always. I love you, sweetheart.”

  I adjusted the flowers a little for no real reason. Then I walked silently back to the car where I sat for a good while before heading back to Scotland Yard.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  With Monica away in France to finalise her new position and iron out the details of her new role, I decided it would be a good opportunity to talk to Alice and Faith about something that had been on my mind.

  I booked a hotel and we drove to the south coast. We spent Saturday at the beach, building sandcastles, collecting shells and taking a dip in the sea. The girls didn’t seem to notice the icy water, and they assured me that once you’d acclimatised it wasn’t so bad. I wasn’t so sure that was true.

  After showering and changing at the hotel we went out again. We walked along the quayside, eating fish and chips. We ate and we talked and we watched the boats coming and going. We stopped and spoke to families dotted around the quay. Some were using crab lines to catch small, angry-looking crabs.

  We found a bench and sat down opposite the Sunseeker shipyard and pointed out which luxury yacht we dreamed of owning – once we’d won the lottery, of course.

  “Must be lovely living down here,” I said. I wasn’t sure how to start, and this seemed as good a way as any. “I bet the schools are good. It must be nice being able to go to the beach after school; in the summer, that is.”

  Alice and Faith started whispering and giggling.

  “Daddy, you’re so obvious,” said Alice. “We saw you looking at the houses to rent on your phone.”

  “What do you mean?” I said innocently. They were on to me.

  “Are we moving to the seaside?” said Faith. “Can we live here? Can we get a puppy as well?”

  “Would you like to live here?” I ventured. “Wouldn’t you miss London and all your friends?”

  Alice and Faith turned away from me again and started whispering.

  “What does Monica think?” said Alice.

  Faith crossed her arms and tilted her head in that knowing way she has. “You haven’t told her we’re moving, have you?” she said, narrowing her eyes at me.

  I wasn’t prepared for that one. “I need to talk to her about it. I thought it was important we talk first.”

  “What you need to do is tell her you love her, Daddy,” said Alice. “Then we should talk, all of us together.”

  Faith nodded in agreement. “Together,” she added.

  “Putting aside the fact I messed up, again, can I assume then that you guys are okay with the idea in principle?”

  “Yes,” they said in unison.

  “What about all your friends?”

  “They’ll make new ones,” said Faith, which made us all laugh.

  “They’ll want to visit,” said Alice. “Which is kinda cool. In between, we can WhatsApp or Skype. No real difference to how we hang out now.”

  “Will you still be a policeman?” asked Faith.

  “That’s a really good question. I’m going to be a consultant for the police, and I’ll speak at conferences and train other officers. It means we can live pretty much wherever we want. It’ll be different. It’ll be quieter, I hope. Most importantly, it means more time with you two. And that is the main reason for wanting to move.” More time with my babies was what mattered most to me right now, and I just hoped Monica would join us and make it perfect.

  Alice and Faith hugged me, and that was answer enough. My mind was made up in that moment. Faith looked at me again with those big, beautiful eyes of hers.

  “Can we get a puppy? We can take it to the beach. We’ll get one that likes the water. I’ll look it up on the internet and do all the research. I’ll find out which puppy is best, don’t worry.”

  “We’ll see,” I said.

  “That means no,” said Alice.

  “It means we’ll see,” I said. “Let’s take it all one step at a time.”

  “Monica is coming as well, isn’t she?” said Alice. The two girls watched me intently. They seemed to sense something but didn’t know what.

  “I hope so,” I said. It was all I could say right now.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure she comes. We’ll come up with a plan. I mean, she has to come with us, doesn’t she?” said Alice.

  “Monica might have other plans.” I thought I should prepare them. “It’s best I speak to her first, before you do. Is that okay? It’s important you don’t say anything unt
il I’ve talked to her.”

  “You promise you won’t mess it up?” said Alice, who seemed to have recently taken on the role of mini-mother.

  “You promise you’ll tell us as soon as she says yes?” said Faith.

  “I promise,” I said.

  So far so good. Now, I just needed to convince Monica that we all loved and needed her.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  The nightmares were getting worse; at times of stress they always did. The intensity and vividness caused him actual physical pain. They took him right back to when it all happened. Cutler remembered being pulled away from Amanda as they took her body from the house.

  Sometimes, it was the little things you remembered. A female paramedic’s blonde ponytail. The wet smell of a policeman’s coat folded over the back of a dining chair. The sound of hushed voices in the kitchen, which stopped when he walked in. The taste of a sickly sweet Cherry Bakewell when Mum was too sad to cook dinner, again.

  Most of all, he remembered the feelings of sickening sadness. The sadness of knowing his sister would never comfort him or put her arm around him and twiddle his hair. The sadness of knowing she would never again tickle him until he nearly wet himself. The sadness of never sharing his secrets with her or hearing her slam the bathroom door or having her listen to his dark thoughts of killing Dad.

  He was taking time off from work. He had plenty of holiday time accrued and he’d not taken a sick day in almost five years, so he was sure head office would be fine about it. Right now, he just needed some space.

  He took out the box of Cassley Shoes Grand Prize Tickets and started looking for a candidate. Recent events had been a distraction. In hindsight, he felt he’d overreached and had put himself in jeopardy. For years he’d ticked along under the radar. Killing Peter, Nicole and Patrick had been wholly undisciplined. Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should, he chided himself. Just because something is a pleasure doesn’t mean it’s good for you.