Don’t trust her. Remember what happened last time.
I look down at the van floor. Nothing is left of the food I put there last night. She wants to survive, I see that, and it warms my heart to know that I’m the one who’s keeping her safe and alive right now.
‘I brought you something a little different today,’ I say, holding up the fried rice from a takeaway shop half a mile away, which as far as I’m concerned is a vast improvement on the limp pre-made sandwiches she’s had the last two days. ‘But first, let me take a look at that face.’
She still says nothing, barely even flinches as I step into the van, and crouch down and move over to her. I sit next to her on the bench. Her hands remain cuffed and secured, but I’m only a foot away from her, and if she wanted she could launch herself at me again and try to tear my face off.
She doesn’t. I think she’s learned her lesson.
I unzip my backpack and take out the medical supplies I’ve brought: some wipes, antiseptic cream, plasters.
‘Open your mouth,’ I say.
She does so first time of asking, and I use a pocket torch to light up the inside. It’s still bloody in there. Her bottom lip is fat and purple and there’s an open cut to the gum on the inside, but I see no signs of infection.
‘I’m going to take a look at the cut above your eye,’ I say. She closes her mouth and nods. ‘You know what will happen if you try anything stupid.’
I tentatively reach out. She doesn’t move at all. Not until I grab the end of the tape holding the gauze in place and tug gently, which causes her to flinch. I pull the tape off. The wound remains open and is a big pulpy mess of red and purple and black.
‘You should let me stitch it,’ I say. ‘Please.’
‘No,’ she says, shaking her head fearfully. I see her left eye, the least swollen of the two, well with tears.
‘There’s only so much I can do without stitches.’
‘No,’ she says again.
I sigh but it’s her choice. I spend a few minutes doing what I can to repair her. When I press around her ribs, I’m certain something is broken there because she cries out and writhes in agony, but she won’t let me look under her dirtied clothes. If I even attempt to she bucks and screams.
Whatever. Her choice. Not that I’m sure how exactly I could help her broken ribs. But it pisses me off that she doesn’t see that I’m only trying to help. As pretty as she is, I’m not some fucking sex freak. That is not why she is here.
Then why is she here?
She’s here because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and this is a better outcome for her than if I’d slit her throat.
Says you. And what about the Deville husband? You let him live. You didn’t take him. Come on, think about it, why is Sophie here?
But he didn’t see my face. It’s different.
Yes. It’s different. That’s why you look at her the way you do. Why you think about her all the time.
When I’m finished tending her wounds I reach into the bag for the food—
You could fuck her. Who would know? Who would care?
‘Shut up!’
I slam the heel of my hand into my head. Sophie grimaces. My head pounds from the blow, but I think it does the trick of pushing her away.
I pull out the carton of rice and the plastic fork. My belly grumbles. I haven’t eaten in hours. I begin to feed her, forkful by forkful. I can see she’s in pain with each mouthful she takes, and with each swallow.
‘Perhaps soup would have been better,’ I say with a chuckle.
She doesn’t laugh back, and I squirm a little with embarrassment.
You’re pathetic.
I ignore the heckle.
‘It’s too… much,’ Sophie says as a tear escapes.
Her words are slurred and garbled. I send another fork of steaming rice her way, but she purses her lips and shakes her head.
‘Please?’ I say.
‘If you… leave it… later… I’ll eat.’
I stare at her as I process her words. Her gaze never leaves mine.
You’re so weak. You’re going to screw everything up.
‘I’ll un-cuff one hand,’ I say. ‘That’s it. But you try to fight back… I won’t stop this time. I’ll batter your fucking head until it’s a pile of mush.’
Sophie whimpers and nods.
I reach into my pocket for the key.
Don’t do it.
I slide across the bench a little closer to her. I can feel the warmth of her body now. I try to push away the thoughts that are forming at the back of my mind.
I was right. You want her. You filthy cretin.
I reach up with the key, but as I do so, I realise my hand is shaking.
Listen to me. She has to die. Don’t do this.
Her voice continues in my head. Over and over. Heckling me. Criticising me.
‘Stop,’ I say, under my breath.
But she doesn’t. She carries on.
Fool. Imbecile. Loser.
She goes on and on and I’m losing my focus.
‘Stop!’ I say louder.
Sophie is whimpering more loudly now. It’s as though she already understands me. That she can see the signs of what is to come.
I manage to get the key into the lock, but the barrage of abuse continues, my heart is pounding in my chest, blood is surging through my veins, and I know I’m only seconds away from an explosion.
You’re going to fuck everything up, you worthless bastard.
I grit my teeth in determination. My head pounds. My legs begin to shake as adrenaline surges.
I fight to control it, but I can’t.
I begin to growl. I catch Sophie’s eye. She’s terrified of me when I’m like this. I want to stop, but it’s impossible. I don’t want her to see this, but the abuse continues and I know it’s only a matter of time…
Kill her! Kill her now!
Here it comes…
I roar and slam my head against the wall of the van. Sophie sobs and blubbers now. I ball my fists and pummel the metal. I gnash my teeth and pound my head against the van again, then again, over and over.
The van rocks from side to side on its suspension, such is the force of the hits. Before long, my vision is blurred and red from the blood that’s dripping down my face.
Still I keep going.
Until…
Serene yet foreboding silence.
I wipe the blood away from my eyes with my forearms.
She’s gone. I know she is. I know exactly how to stop her. But I also know what’s coming next. In fact, I can already feel them inside me.
My hands are trembling so badly I can barely pick the key up from the blood-spattered floor. Sophie continues to whimper and moan. Her anguish, which is not what I intended at all, is enough to cause a moment of rage to surge again, but I fight it off this time.
The cuffs are undone. Sophie whips one hand down to her side. She helpfully and willingly leaves the other in place, and I’ve soon reattached the chain. I shorten the slack just a little to stop her free hand reaching too far.
But the rats are moving more quickly now. I don’t know how long I can take this before I’ll be lying on the floor, a quivering useless wreck.
‘I’ll be… back… tomorrow,’ I slur as I push the rice and the fork closer to Sophie.
Blinking to try to keep focus, I stumble out of the van, slam the doors shut. As I stumble towards the exit, I hold a hand to my throbbing skull, and pray I can make it back to the flat in time before my insides explode and the rats break free.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dani had been sitting staring at the forensics reports from the Drifford House crime scene for more than two hours, trying her damnedest to eke out anything of use, any tiny lead, from the bland words. Toxicology results were now back for Oscar Redfearne, but the results showed nothing of note, other than the fact he was likely drunk when he was hacked to death.
Nothing. That’s what she had
.
‘You fancy a break?’
Dani jumped at the unexpected voice and her head shot up. Easton was hovering over her desk.
‘Not just yet.’
‘You look like you need one.’
Dani sighed. ‘We need a breakthrough here,’ she said.
‘To find Curtis?’
‘Yes, but…’ Of course that was exactly where all their efforts should be, and indeed there were tens of officers assigned to help track Curtis down, yet that wasn’t where Dani’s head was at. She still wanted to know why. Having that answer could not only help to find Curtis, but could stop him killing again. And wouldn’t it explain why and how Ben was involved?
‘I’m not sure you’re going to find any of the answers you need just by staring at that same page over and over,’ Easton said.
Dani flashed him a glare, even though she knew he was right.
‘We still haven’t found any link between Curtis and either Oscar Redfearne or Sophie Blackwood,’ Dani said. Was it a statement or a question?
‘No, we haven’t,’ Easton said. ‘Nothing in phone or email or social media records at least.’
‘Maybe the link isn’t quite so direct,’ Dani said.
‘Why does there have to be a link at all? What we need is to get Curtis. What if you’re searching for something that simply isn’t there?’
‘No,’ Dani said with absolute certainty. ‘The attack on Oscar wasn’t random. We’ve said that right from the start. It was planned and absolutely deliberate. Which means there has to be a reason why Curtis had Oscar on his radar.’
Easton held Dani’s gaze for a few moments as if weighing up a response, though in the end he didn’t offer anything.
‘So did you want to go for a coffee or not?’ he said.
‘We only have one other option,’ Dani said.
‘One option other than coffee?’
‘No, Aaron, one other option to figure out why Curtis targeted Oscar. Or, more specifically, why he targeted the Redfearnes.’
Easton’s eyes narrowed a little as though he was starting to see where Dani was going.
‘McNair will never buy it,’ he said.
‘Why not?’
‘I’m just saying.’
‘Well, thanks for the encouragement. But I guess there’s only one way to find out. Come on.’
Dani got to her feet and headed over to the DCI’s office.
* * *
‘Not a goddamn chance!’ McNair shouted, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation.
‘But, ma’am—’
‘DI Stephens, this is a murder investigation, not an opportunity to look for dirt on one of the region’s most wealthy families.’
‘That’s not what I’m suggesting we do, or what I want to do at all.’
‘Then I’m a bit lost. What exactly are you suggesting? And this time explain it to me in a manner which makes sense in terms of catching our killer, rather than satisfying any personal agenda you may have.’
Dani ignored the barbed comment. ‘Damian Curtis specifically targeted Oscar Redfearne. Everyone agrees on that, right? But we’ve found no link whatsoever between them. And please, bear with me, but like you said yourself, the Redfearnes are a wealthy and prominent family. Perhaps it’s the family that Curtis was targeting rather than Oscar specifically. If Curtis is out for revenge, then that starts to make some sense. And that family… there’s things happening there under the surface that we’re just not seeing.’
‘Things happening,’ McNair said with genuine disgust in her tone, her face screwed for further effect. ‘Bloody hell, is this the level of explanation we get these days from an SIO on a murder investigation?’
‘Fine,’ Dani said. ‘Then let me be clearer. I don’t trust the Redfearnes. I don’t like them at all actually. I don’t like what they represent—’
‘So now you’re admitting that you’re letting personal prejudices get in the way of proper procedure.’
‘No! I—’
‘Don’t you think I’ve already had discussions with Baxter and others about the Redfearnes? Don’t you think we haven’t already been hearing from lawyers, warning us about their clients’ names being linked to this investigation—’
‘So that’s it? The top brass have skulked off into a corner because they’re scared of a libel case if the papers say their clients were at that party? Why? Why are a bunch of celebrities and rich people so bothered about being associated with that party? If they were there, then that’s a bloody cold, hard fact!’
‘It’s nothing to do with the goddamn party. It’s to do with the fact that there was a gruesome murder at that party, which I think even you would agree had nothing to do with some spray-tanned sports star.’
‘Ma’am, if I may?’ Easton said, and Dani was more than happy for his interjection. She sat back in her seat, frustrated and flustered, largely because of her own inability to clearly explain what she was thinking, rather than because of McNair’s negative reaction.
‘I know Dani understands the sensitivity involved here, but we believe Curtis killed his trial judge,’ Easton said. ‘The motive for that one would appear pretty damn clear-cut. We also believe he killed Oscar, and even if we can prove forensically that he was the culprit, the CPS is going to seriously question our work if we pass this case to them without any idea of a motive for that killing.’
‘Other than he’s an unhinged sociopath,’ McNair said. ‘Isn’t that what you were trying to tell me earlier?’
She glanced at Dani who said nothing.
‘Unhinged, yes,’ Easton said. ‘Sociopath, possibly. But still someone who takes time to plan. Figuring out why Curtis killed Oscar won’t just help to put a watertight case forward to the CPS, it could help us in stopping him killing anyone else, and most importantly, in finding him, which is what we all want more than anything right now.’
The room fell silent. Dani wasn’t sure whether she was pleased or agitated that Easton had managed to break through to McNair in a way which she hadn’t.
‘I can see the sense in that,’ McNair said. ‘But what are you asking for here? The Redfearnes’ legal team will be all over any request we make for access to their personal records.’
‘I was hoping we could avoid that,’ Dani said. ‘That we could gain access to their financial records—’
‘DI Stephens, don’t even go there. That is not going to happen. We’re not a spy agency, and on the paper-thin evidence of what you think these people have done wrong, no judge would ever give the go-ahead for any kind of covert fishing expedition.’
McNair’s forceful rebuke caused Dani to take pause. What else could she say?
‘The best I can offer you here is that we request a court order for access to the Redfearnes’ personal and financial records,’ McNair said. ‘But I have to stress to you both that it’s highly likely it will get rejected, unless you have something more concrete that we can use to help our case.’
‘Then why don’t we dress it up as an investigation into the sexual harassment allegations?’ Dani said. ‘I know that’s not our investigation, but there’s no reason why it shouldn’t be a valid route of inquiry for the West Midlands Police. It’s certainly serious enough to warrant further investigation, and what if those allegations are just the start of it? And you have to admit that the only reason an investigation isn’t already underway in relation to the allegations is for the very fact that we’re talking about a revered family who’ve got political and legal clout to stop it. Personally, that only makes me even more determined to find the truth, not less.’
The fact McNair didn’t shoot the proposal down outright suggested she was at least contemplating it.
‘We do have a wealth of evidence in relation to the harassment claims,’ Easton said.
‘The very point that they are revered is why we need to tread so carefully,’ McNair said. ‘As unfortunate or unfair as it may be, we can’t get away from that point. The Redfearnes will cr
y foul, and you have to realise that, and be prepared for it. Their legal team will be onto us like hounds smelling a steak.’
‘None of which are good enough reasons to prevent us seeking justice,’ Dani said. ‘We’ll just have to deal with whatever they throw back our way.’
‘We. Interesting choice of word, as more than likely it’ll be me who has to deflect all the crap that they shoot at us.’
McNair sighed deeply. Dani realised she was clenching her fists in anticipation.
‘I’ll run it through Baxter today,’ McNair said, ‘and if he’s in agreement we’ll be onto a judge before close of play.’
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Dani and Easton chorused.
‘You won’t be thanking me later,’ McNair said. ‘Now go and catch our killer.’
* * *
‘That could have gone worse,’ Dani said without taking her eyes off the road ahead. She was driving them once again, this time on their way to a scheduled appointment with Kenneth Feathers, the QC who’d represented Curtis at trial.
‘She agreed to the proposal,’ Easton said, ‘so you’d have to say it was a success, even if our request is only likely to get some serious kickback from their lawyers.’
‘An unavoidable sideshow.’
‘I hope you didn’t mind that I butted in back there,’ Easton said.
‘We’re a team. You don’t have to ask for my permission to speak.’
‘But still…’ Dani could feel his eyes burning into her. She resisted the urge to look over to him. ‘I sensed I got your back up a bit.’
‘Not exactly,’ Dani said. ‘I just feel as though she still doesn’t trust me properly. A few days ago she was congratulating me on the Clarkson case, now I can’t get her to see my point of view at all.’
‘Of course she trusts you,’ Easton said. ‘Sometimes I think it’s just a style thing.’
The Rules of Murder Page 19
