The Victim

by Max Manning

  He looked Shields in the eye and knew that they were both thinking the same thing. “If you had fought back and failed to overpower him, then I believe he would have killed you.”

  Shields went back to the chair and sat down. “Maybe this should make me feel better about standing there like an idiot doing nothing, but it doesn’t.”

  Day restarted the video, and they watched the rest of the footage, which ended with Norton tucking his hands into his jacket pockets before sauntering off into the darkness.

  Shields took a deep breath. Day had taken the view that his detective sergeant was strong enough mentally to cope with watching the footage, and he’d been proved right.

  “Do you think it’s that simple?” she asked. “His sick rules. Submit and you live, resist and you die?”

  Day shook his head. “Things are rarely that simple where psychopaths are concerned. This individual hasn’t suddenly turned bad. It’s likely he was born bad. The Gem Golding incident was probably a trigger event for him. He has drawn up his own set of rules, how he decides whether to take a life or spare a life. We’ll know more when he chooses his next victim, because he will strike again, and I’m certain his ego will make sure we get another good look at him in action. Unless, of course, we catch him first.”

  34

  Surrender

  Gem the Victim

  Gem stood patiently by the police station counter, having been told that she’d be seen by someone from the Criminal Investigation Department as soon as possible. Having spent twenty-five minutes lined up to speak to the police constable manning the front desk, she was surprised how promptly a door to the right of the counter opened. A fresh-faced young man wearing black trousers and a gray jacket with black elbow patches beckoned her in. He looked much too young to be a detective, she thought. Surely CID didn’t do work experience placements?

  “If you’d like to come upstairs with me, my boss will be with you in a minute or two,” the detective said.

  Gem nodded and followed him up a flight of steps to the first floor. He led her into a room furnished with a worn but comfortable-looking sofa, a small table, and two plastic chairs.

  The detective smiled nervously. The fine lines that appeared around the corners of his mouth and eyes reassured Gem that he was probably old enough to arrest real criminals. “How’s the injured arm doing?” he said, pointing at the cast on her right wrist. “How much longer have you got to have that thing on for?”

  Gem hiked up the sleeve of her jacket, revealing a few more inches of the graying plaster. “I think it’s healing pretty well, thanks. No pain now, but it itches like crazy under the cast. It has to stay on for a week or so yet.”

  The detective gave her a sympathetic nod. “Would you like me to fetch you a cup of tea or coffee? I’d recommend tea, because the coffee here tastes like pond water. If you’re lucky.”

  “Tea would be perfect, thank you. Two sugars.”

  Once he’d left the room, Gem sat on the sofa and let out a long, loud sigh. She hoped the sweet tea would settle her stomach down in time for lunch. When the police had first told her that Drew had died, she’d almost thrown up on the spot, and the nausea had never completely gone away.

  She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through her nose. She could cope with a queasy stomach. There were more important things to worry about.

  Things like finding out when Drew’s body would be released for his funeral, like making sure the police would do everything possible to find the man who killed him, like not letting herself panic that her whole life was unravelling.

  Her attacker had assaulted her, humiliated her, snuffed out her boyfriend’s life. Now she was doing her best to take ownership of everything that had happened. Facing up, fighting back, it was the only way she could keep everything together.

  The door swung open, and she looked up, surprised to see Detective Inspector Day enter the room carrying a tea. He was smartly dressed in a dark suit and tie and appeared taller than she remembered.

  “Two sugars for you,” he said, handing her the cup. He pulled one of the plastic chairs away from the table and placed it so he could sit facing her. “So tell me,” he said. “What can we do for you?”

  As far as Gem could judge, Day was a respected detective and a decent man, but she no longer had space in her head to worry about offending people. Even people she liked.

  “You can arrest the man who took Drew away from me, who destroyed my life, that’s what you can do. Find the man who deliberately shoved him under the wheels of a Tube train. It would be really great if you could do that for me, Detective Inspector.”

  Day responded with a rueful smile. “I promise you we are trying our best to do exactly that. In fact, we have recently made some interesting progress in the investigation into both the attack on you and your boyfriend’s death.”

  Gem guessed that the detective had dealt with plenty of grieving loved ones over the years. He showed no sign of taking her outburst personally. She also gave him credit for not claiming that he understood how she must be feeling. “What do you mean by progress?”

  Day edged his chair a fraction closer. “We are confident that we now know the identity of your attacker. I’m afraid I can’t release his name right now. But we have also established that he had an appointment with Drew Bentley at Stone and Maddox. He was after free advice about losing his casual job at a warehouse in south London.”

  Gem sat up straight and perched on the edge of the sofa, wondering if she’d misheard. “He was one of Drew’s clients?”

  Day nodded. “A nonpaying client, a pro bono case. It’s not clear why he thought he had grounds to complain about being fired. He was never officially an employee at the warehouse and had to leave after seriously assaulting a coworker.”

  The skin on the back of Gem’s neck prickled. “This doesn’t make any sense. Are you sure about this?”

  “We’re sure.”

  “Was this appointment with Drew before or after he attacked me?”

  “It was definitely before the carjacking. Two weeks before to be exact. We have a copy of Mr. Bentley’s appointment records. Did he ever mention having had a disagreement or being threatened by one of his pro bono clients?”

  Gem took a sip of the tea and made a face. She stood up, put the almost full cup on the table, and sat down again. “We never really talked much about Drew’s work or mine,” she said. “We both did long hours, so when we’d have some time together, it was the last thing we wanted to discuss. I did know that he was close to making partner, which was why he had to increase his charity work. It was expected. He would have been the youngest ever partner at Stone and Maddox.”

  “Did you have any plans to get married?”

  “We had talked about it, but that’s all. Drew was keener than I was, and it did cause some friction. As far as I was concerned, it wasn’t something we needed to think about.”

  “I take it he didn’t mention that Stone and Maddox encourage partners to have a settled home life and wives to show off at functions?”

  Gem frowned. Drew had never mentioned that, and she found it hard to believe that he would approve. “Please tell me you’re joking,” she said. “We are living in the twenty-first century, aren’t we?”

  Day shrugged one shoulder. “I know, I know, but it seems some of the people at these old City firms either don’t know that or don’t care. You’d think a lawyer smart enough to make partner wouldn’t put up with it, but the rewards of towing the line are pretty tempting. Detective Constable Stock checked out the figures, and some partners in law firms the size of Stone and Maddox made more than 1.5 million pounds last year.”

  Gem tried to think back to the few conversations she’d had with Drew about him becoming a partner. She was fairly sure that he’d never once mentioned what the promotion would mean to him financially. He’d certainly never sai
d he’d been pressured to get a wife.

  “Are you really saying Drew was expected to marry before he could be made a partner?”

  “We interviewed his boss, Edward Maddox, and while he didn’t actually say you had to have a wife, or a husband for that matter, he did tell us that his firm preferred potential partners to have a settled home life, and that Drew had assured him that he would be getting married soon.”

  Gem shook her head. “We had no plans to get married. I think I would have known about it if we had, don’t you?”

  Day shrugged. “I’m not trying to upset you,” he said. “I’m just trying to catch a killer.”

  Gem took a long, slow breath. She knew none of this was the detective’s fault. She didn’t want to believe that Drew would go along with that kind of sexist crap, but most of the friction in their relationship had been caused by her dedication to her job.

  “So, can you explain to me,” she said, “what all this has got to do with the investigation?”

  Day stood up and paced across the room and back again. “We don’t know yet,” he said. “But it can’t be a coincidence that your boyfriend gave legal advice to the man who later attacked you and then killed him.”

  Gem watched the detective inspector walk across the room again. “You say you know the suspect’s name. Why can’t you just pick him up?”

  “Because it’s not that simple. If you don’t want someone to find you, the metropolis of London is a perfect place for a fugitive to hide, especially if you move from address to address, don’t use smartphones, and make sure you pay for everything with cash.”

  Gem had been wondering whether to tell Day that she’d offered to do an interview with the Daily News and decided this would be a good time to bring it up.

  “What about using the press to flush the suspect out? The Daily News is interested in doing a story on the fact that the man who attacked me is suspected of killing my boyfriend.”

  Day stopped pacing and sat back down on the plastic chair. “Officially, Drew Bentley’s death was either suicide or an accident. We’re not yet in a position to release the news that we now suspect he was deliberately pushed onto the track.”

  Gem waited for an explanation but didn’t get one. She took a deep breath and asked the one question she’d been dreading. “When is Drew’s body likely to be released? There are a lot of arrangements to make.” Grief rose in her throat, but she swallowed it down.

  Day raised a hand and reached out to offer comfort but pulled back at the last second. “Unfortunately, it’s going to be a while before we can release the body,” he said.

  The Mastermind

  Norton wiped a smear of tomato sauce from his lips with the back of his hand. Alice had offered to cook him a meal, but he’d sent her out for a pizza instead. He’d never liked her culinary skills. She was much better in the bedroom than she was in the kitchen.

  He screwed up the greasy pizza box and dropped it on the carpet beside the bed. That’ll drive her crazy, he thought. Serves her right. Since her slip of the tongue, she’d been desperate to make it up to him, constantly apologizing and begging for forgiveness. She claimed she’d panicked under pressure.

  She wasn’t really sorry. He knew that. She knew him as well as anybody. Knew what he was capable of. The bitch was right to be scared. He strongly suspected that her telling the police about the children’s home hadn’t been an accident at all.

  He wondered whether returning to his old stomping ground in Stepney had been a mistake. He’d needed somewhere to bed down, and this place had been an easy short-term solution. Once everything was sorted out, he’d be where he belonged. With Gem Golding. For the moment, he had to keep a tight rein on Alice. He’d always believed himself a good judge of people, especially women. There was a slight risk that she’d eventually summon up the courage to turn him in, but he planned to be long gone before she reached that point.

  He swung his feet off the bed, swiveled, and sat on the edge of the mattress. The door opened, and Alice poked her head into the room. “Can I get you a beer, Con?” she asked. “I’ve a few in the fridge.”

  Norton beckoned her in, flicking his head toward the space on the bed beside him. She obeyed, closed the door behind her, and sat down. He draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, digging his fingers hard into her flesh until she winced.

  “Not right now,” he said. “I’m going out soon and will probably be back late. Very late. Got some important business to attend to, so I wouldn’t bother waiting up.”

  He released his hold on her, and Alice edged away but stayed sitting on the bed. Norton looked down at her black pencil skirt and smiled broadly. “I’m glad to see you’ve got your legs out at last. You look much better.”

  Alice stood up, smoothing the front of the skirt down with both hands. “I decided you were right about me wearing trousers.”

  “Of course I was right. I always know what’s best for you. You should know that by now.”

  “They don’t suit my shape. I’m going to stick to skirts and dresses from now on.”

  Alice’s eyes flicked down to the crumpled pizza box on the carpet. She bent down and picked it up without comment.

  Norton grinned and shook his head slowly. He’d learned about the power of fear early in life. It was the first thing he could remember feeling, and he had soon come to understand two crucial things. First, fear doesn’t exist except in people’s minds, and second, it’s a potent weapon of manipulation and control.

  He maneuvered himself onto his back on the bed, stretched, and tucked his hands behind his head. “I’ll be needing a front door key so I can come and go without disturbing you. You see, I’m still as thoughtful as ever. I remember that was always one of the things you liked about me. I’ve probably still got my old key somewhere, but I imagine you’ve had the locks changed.”

  Alice didn’t respond and moved toward the door.

  Norton stopped her in her tracks with one word. “Key,” he said softly.

  She reached out and grabbed the handle. Norton watched her knuckles turn white.

  “I’ve got a spare one,” she said. “I’ll leave it in the kitchen for you on the hook next to the microwave.”

  When she’d gone, Norton laughed and stared up at the ceiling. After a while, he closed his eyes and began planning the night ahead. The desire for revenge was prehistoric. The thought of it warmed his blood.

  He’d grown sick and tired of living in Finch’s dump in Stratford and had been thinking about moving on for a while. But that didn’t mean he could accept being forced out. Betrayal was unforgivable. In Norton’s mind, he had an obligation to exact retribution. Someone must have tipped off the police. Someone must pay.

  * * *

  Norton pressed his back against the wall, slid his hand into his pocket, and pulled out a coin. He flipped it, caught it, and slapped it down on the back of his other hand. He’d carefully chosen the spot because it was dark and out of range of the nearest streetlight, but when he revealed the coin, its surface still glinted in the gloom. Tails. Surrender. Norton smiled. This could go either way, he thought. He’s a cowardly little rat, but cornered rats can bite.

  He put the coin away and edged along the wall to get closer to the door as Finch stepped out onto the street, turned, and rummaged in his pockets for the key. He could tell from the smug look on the little slimeball’s face that it had been a profitable night.

  Norton waited until the key was in the lock, then pounced. Sliding swiftly out of the shadows, he slipped an arm around Finch’s neck in a choke hold, rammed his head into the door like a battering ram, and dragged him into the shop.

  Kicking the door shut, Norton used all his strength to increase the pressure on Finch’s throat. In a few seconds, he felt him go limp and let him drop to the floor.

  Gasping for breath, Finch rolled onto his back,
raised a hand to his forehead, and stared at the blood on his fingers. Only then did he look up at the face of his attacker. “Oh God, no,” he said. “Please, no.”

  Finch’s pleading filled Norton with disgust. He grabbed his arms, pulled him into the storeroom next to the counter, switched on the light, and closed the door.

  Finch tried to lever himself up into a sitting position, but Norton placed a foot on his chest and pushed him down onto his back. Rivulets of blood ran down the side of his face from the cut in the middle of his forehead.

  “That looks nasty,” Norton said. “You should get it seen to. We don’t want those good looks ruined, do we?”

  “What do you want from me?” Finch asked.

  “I want what I’m due. Compensation.”

  “For what?”

  Norton squatted down to look Finch in the eyes. “For being forced to leave that rathole upstairs. No notice. No nothing. Did you think it’d be an easy way to get rid of me?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Finch said, frowning. “Honestly, I don’t understand.”

  Norton tilted his head, then shook it slowly. “Tipping off the police was a big mistake. The biggest you’ll ever make. I can’t actually believe you had the guts to do it.”

  “I didn’t tell anyone about you. That’s the truth. Please. Why would I do that? I wouldn’t. I didn’t. You’ve got to believe me.”

  Norton stood up. “I haven’t got to do anything,” he said. “I thought you’d have learned that by now. I also always make sure that anybody who betrays me pays the price.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Finch said. “I swear it. I don’t know how the police knew about you living upstairs, but I didn’t tell them. I wouldn’t snitch, honest.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” Norton hissed. “Just do as I say. Don’t give me any trouble and maybe I will show you mercy. Even though it goes against my nature.” He placed the heel of his right boot on Finch’s forehead and ground down on the wound. Finch cried out, grabbed Norton’s ankle with both hands, and wrenched it hard to the right. Norton wobbled, almost lost balance, then pressed his heel down harder on Finch’s head until he released his grip.