Fatal Promise: A totally gripping and heart-stopping serial-killer thriller

by Angela Marsons

  ‘I am and was just sorry that the family wouldn’t confirm it. Although it’s immaterial now.’

  ‘Quite,’ he said, simply.

  ‘So, were you the person responsible for Doctor Cordell’s departure?’ Kim asked, wondering about new broom and all that.

  ‘Mr Cordell was the reason for his own departure,’ he said.

  ‘How so?’ she asked. The man had eked out a comfortable existence at the clinic for fifteen years.

  Mr Hendon sighed. ‘You met him, Inspector, so you understand that he was not the most likeable man. His manner was often brusque, dismissive and altogether unpleasant. However, he was indeed a brilliant surgeon. Countless lives have been saved because of Doctor Cordell’s skill and for that reason his death is indeed a tragedy.’

  ‘Thank you for the official speech and now I’d like to hear the “but” that was attached to it,’ Kim said.

  ‘His skill would only excuse so much bad behaviour.’

  He suddenly seemed to remember himself and his earlier words. ‘Not that I’m saying he was guilty. The hearing hadn’t—’

  ‘What hearing?’ Kim asked.

  ‘Doctor Cordell was the subject of an internal investigation at the time he left the clinic. He did not attend his formal interview and tendered his resignation immediately.’

  Kim knew employment law well enough to understand that without that hearing taking place he was guilty of nothing.

  ‘What had he been accused of?’

  ‘Sexual harassment,’ Hendon said, with a look of distaste.

  ‘Any previous incidents?’ she asked. Some kind of trumped up complaint was not beyond the powers of the Spades to force him out.

  ‘I really shouldn’t discuss this any further without a member of the legal—’

  ‘Okay, Mr Hendon, I understand, but in your opinion was this complaint credible?’ she asked.

  ‘No, officer. It was no longer a single complaint. As is normally the case in these situations, one person’s bravery inspires others to come forward with their story.’

  She had visions of the #metoo hashtag on Twitter where women had come forward in their thousands to speak out about sexual harassment and intimidation.

  ‘Mr Hendon, how many complaints of sexual harassment did Doctor Cordell have against him?’

  ‘The final count was thirteen.’

  Eighteen

  The phone was answered on the third ring but it wasn’t the voice she expected to hear.

  ‘Where’s Stacey?’ she asked, as the tension seeped into her jaw.

  ‘Out following a lead,’ Penn answered.

  Kim tried to quell the irritation rising within her. The sooner they could catch the bastard who’d killed Cordell the sooner Penn would be reassigned. Objectively, Kim knew he was a good officer, but he wasn’t right for her team.

  ‘Bryant is gonna send over a list of names. Thirteen of them. All possible victims of sexual harassment by Cordell, and I want to know just how credible they are.’

  ‘Okay, boss,’ he answered.

  ‘And tread gently, Penn,’ she warned. ‘Just background checks to start. This is a sensitive issue.’

  ‘Will do, boss.’

  ‘And have Stacey call me as soon as she gets back,’ Kim said, ending the call. After what had happened to Dawson, if Stacey was following up a lead then she wanted to know about it.

  Nineteen

  Although only a few streets away from Jessie Ryan’s house, Emma Weston appeared to live in a whole different part of town.

  Sedgley sat on the A459 nestled between Dudley and Wolverhampton and was formed of many housing estates: High Arcal, Tudor, Cotwall End, Brownswall, Giro City – so named because the majority of occupants claimed benefits.

  But Stacey knew she had crossed over to the Beacon Estate, an area built of old council houses known for occupants dumping rubbish on each other’s gardens, feuds and house fires. At the top of the estate lay Beacon Hill, a dumping ground for litter and stolen cars, visited by gypsies on numerous occasions.

  But however grim it was it didn’t compare to Hollytree, and many of the problem families had been moved from Beacon to the Brierley Hill conurbation.

  The tidy lawns, shrub borders and freshly planted hanging baskets had given way to houses sitting on sludge pits with patches of grass, grimy net curtains, broken-down cars and a battered caravan in the communal parking area at the end of the road.

  As she crossed the road, Stacey slid behind a decent-looking Volvo out of place in the hopeless street. Brave person leaving it unattended, she thought, traversing the uneven slabs that led to the Weston’s front door.

  The door was opened by a girl wearing way too much make-up over a suspicious expression.

  ‘Who’re you?’ she asked before Stacey got chance to speak.

  She showed her identification. ‘Detective Constable Stacey Wood. I’m here about Jessie. May I come in?’

  Emma Weston shook her head and placed herself more firmly in the space as though Stacey was going to barge past her and force entry to the house.

  ‘I said all I got to say,’ she said, rudely.

  Stacey knew that a constable had been dispatched the previous day to take details from Emma for the report, but she’d been summoned back to Halesowen before the officer had returned to the station.

  ‘Well if you could just say it again,’ Stacey said, trying to remain pleasant in the face of the girl’s rudeness.

  ‘She came over, we listened to music, ate a pizza and she went home. Normal time. End of.’

  ‘Was anything bothering her?’ Stacey asked.

  Emma shook her head.

  ‘Did she mention an argument with her stepfather at all?’

  Emma rolled her eyes. ‘They was always at it. The bloke’s a wan—’

  ‘Was he physical with her?’ Stacey asked, wondering if this fight had got out of hand.

  ‘Not this time, I don’t think,’ she said shortly. ‘But plenty other times.’

  ‘Emma, did Jessie have a boyfriend?’

  She shook her head and narrowed her eyes.

  ‘And she’s your best friend?’ Stacey asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said defensively.

  ‘So, you’d tell me if you knew anything further.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she repeated.

  ‘Only you don’t seem all that bothered she’s missing,’ Stacey observed, feeling her hackles rise at the girl’s attitude. Perhaps these kids weren’t as close as Mrs Ryan thought.

  ‘I’m answering your questions, ay I?’

  ‘You’re not worried about her?’

  Emma rolled her eyes. ‘Jessie’s nearly sixteen,’ she said as though that meant she’d earned herself a wealth of experience since her fifteenth birthday. ‘She’s fine and she’ll be back when she’s cooled off. Just chill.’

  ‘Are you so blasé because she’s done this before?’ Stacey asked.

  Emma shrugged. ‘Jessie can take care of herself. She’s tougher than she seems.’

  ‘Do you know anything about Jessie’s father?’ Stacey asked, reasoning that the girls had known each other for a long time.

  ‘Why would I? She doesn’t even know him really. Just his name,’ she added quickly.

  Stacey’s senses kicked in to the sudden colour that the girl couldn’t stop from rushing to her cheeks.

  ‘Emma, is Jessie in touch with her father?’

  ‘Dow be stupid. She ay seen him since she was a baby.’

  Well, she’d be visiting him all the same to confirm that one, Stacey decided.

  ‘Look, Emma, I’m here cos Jessie’s mother is worried. She’ll be seriously ill without her medicine,’ Stacey advised.

  ‘Ha, like that stupid cow—’

  ‘Who is it, Emma?’ asked a female opening the door wide.

  There was no mistaking that she was now looking at Emma’s mother. The dark moody eyes were the same, the heavy make-up and the scowl when she looked at Stacey’s identification
.

  ‘My daughter has nothing more to say,’ she said, pulling her child away from the door and closing it with a bang.

  Stacey turned away, stunned at the attitude of them both. A young girl was missing and was without her medication.

  Suddenly Stacey could understand why Jessie’s mum wasn’t all that keen on her daughter’s best friend.

  Firstly, she wasn’t sure Emma was telling her anywhere near the truth, but more than that – as her mother had pulled her away from the door, Stacey had seen a strange look come over the child’s face and if she had to name it, she would have called it triumph.

  Twenty

  It was almost six by the time Bryant had eked them through the rush hour traffic and on to Russells Hall Hospital car park. In her mind the miles and hours they’d spent on the road were not synonymous with the headway they were making on the case.

  ‘What time is she here until?’ Bryant asked, as he parked.

  ‘Said she’d wait for us in the café,’ Kim said, jumping out of the car. ‘Until half five, which we might have made if you’d put your foot down,’ she moaned.

  ‘Yeah, damn that line of traffic that got in my way.’

  Kim was feeling the frustration of not driving. Had she been in the driver’s seat she’d have been ducking and diving down side streets and short cuts to reach their location on time. Bryant chose to accept that all roads would be gridlocked and resigned himself to the wait.

  ‘If she’s already gone, it’ll be all your fault,’ she said, striding towards the automatic doors.

  ‘Yeah, put it on my tab,’ he grumbled.

  The hospital was in that manic transition phase of out-patients leaving appointments and visitors starting to arrive. Kim crossed her fingers that she didn’t bump into Doctor Shah. Desk duty this definitely was not.

  The café was loud and busy but Kim spotted the woman straight away. Not least because she was looking anxiously in the direction of the main entrance.

  Although they’d never met Kim could see that she recognised her too.

  ‘Mrs Wilson, thank you for waiting,’ Kim said, gratefully.

  Kim knew the hospital Operational Medical Director was a busy person and they were lucky to have got a few minutes of her time without a meeting.

  ‘I’m sorry I can’t give you long. I have an appointment in about ten minutes.’

  Kim shot a glance at Bryant who continued past her to the coffee machine.

  ‘I’ll get straight to it,’ Kim said, wondering if there were any administration posts that were nine to five any more.

  Kim guessed the woman to be mid-thirties. Although the majority was still contained in a bun on the back of her head, blonde tendrils of hair had broken free throughout the day. Make-up applied first thing had long since disappeared.

  ‘Interviews,’ she explained.

  ‘For Cordell’s job?’ she asked.

  She nodded. ‘Sorry if it seems heartless but surgeons have to be replaced immediately. Three majors and six minors cancelled already.’

  Kim was guessing she meant operations. ‘Not good for the figures,’ Kim observed. Hospital cancellations within the NHS were a staple of every current news programme.

  ‘Even less for the patients,’ the woman replied coolly. ‘Two of those majors were drastic hysterectomies.’ She paused. ‘Cancer.’ She shook her head. ‘Other surgeons are working all hours to pick up some slack, but a man down is a man down.’

  Kim nodded her understanding for a person being battered by politicians, public and patients. She could appreciate someone in that position becoming jaded, but this woman appeared to have retained her humanity.

  Kim felt herself warming to Vanessa Wilson.

  ‘We understand that Doctor Cordell has consulted here for many years.’

  She nodded. ‘It was long before my time that he started. Way back after his wife’s second miscarriage about twenty years ago. He told me Saul was seven and Luke was five but Lilith had desperately wanted a daughter. She was brought here and although we couldn’t save the baby he never forgot our efforts.’

  ‘And he became full-time just over a month ago?’ Kim confirmed.

  Vanessa nodded. ‘When he left Oakland we snapped him up. We’d have been foolish not to,’ she said glancing at her watch. ‘Despite his faults he was an excellent surgeon.’

  ‘But you knew the rumours regarding Heathcrest?’ Kim asked.

  ‘Rumours,’ she scoffed. ‘Take a look around, officer. We have doctors, nurses, auxiliary staff, administrators, receptionists, cleaners, volunteers. The place is like a small city. We can’t afford to listen to rumours.’

  ‘Did you contact Oakwood for a reference?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, moving along the seating as Bryant returned.

  Another check of the watch.

  ‘They did admit that he was the subject of a disciplinary but would not divulge anything further.’

  Kim understood that the woman had made a calculated decision with the information she had. Rumour and accusation elsewhere, his impeccable record here and the overwhelming priority of saving lives.

  She would have done the exact same thing.

  ‘Now, officer, I really must…’

  Her words trailed away as she stood. They had run out of time.

  ‘So, you can confirm that no complaints of any kind had been made against Doctor Cordell?’ Kim asked, as the woman’s phone began to ring.

  She frowned. ‘Absolutely not, Inspector, in fact it was the other way round,’ she said, holding up her phone and striding away.

  Damn it, just a few more minutes, she thought as Vanessa Wilson disappeared from view to the left.

  From the right, a figure lifted his head and met her gaze.

  Recognition dawned on his face as he recalled her from the previous day when she had refused his offer of a chair.

  She smiled and nodded in response.

  Bryant followed her gaze and then frowned at her.

  ‘My mate, Terry,’ she said, reaching for her drink.

  ‘So, thirteen complaints back there and not one here. What are you thinking now?’

  Kim took a sip of her coffee and sighed deeply. ‘Honestly, Bryant. I haven’t got a bloody clue.’

  Twenty-One

  ‘So, what you been up to today, boy?’ she asked Barney as she lowered his dried food and chicken pieces to the ground.

  If he could answer she was sure he’d tell her that Charlie, her neighbour, had collected him around 2 p.m., taken him for a nice long walk before taking him back to his bungalow along the street for a lazy couple of hours in the shady back garden.

  The arrangement suited them all perfectly. After losing his beloved Labrador two years earlier, Charlie hadn’t wanted the full-time care and responsibility of another dog at the age of seventy-six. With no family, he’d worried about what would happen if anything were to happen to him. Having been forced to give up driving he couldn’t be responsible for the animal’s care and vet visits. But he was a dog person, had always had dogs and missed the companionship terribly.

  Her own frenetic working hours meant there was always someone she could call upon to tend to her best friend. The arrangement worked well for everyone. Not least of all Barney who got to chase the squirrels away from the bird feeders at the bottom of Charlie’s garden.

  She sat on the sofa with her cuppa. Within seconds Barney was by her side, nuzzling her free hand. If she remembered correctly the ‘no sofa’ rule when she’d brought him home had lasted two and a half minutes.

  Automatically her palm rested on his head and began to stroke. He pushed his silky head against it.

  ‘So, here’s the problem, boy,’ she said seriously. ‘I need to go out and I’m not supposed to drive.’

  He tipped his head as though listening to and considering the problem.

  ‘Now we both know the bike is out,’ she said, regretfully. ‘And much as I miss it even I know that’s beyond my limits and although
the doctor said I wasn’t even to drive a car I’m thinking it wasn’t really an instruction but more an advisory recommendation. You think?’

  No response.

  ‘I mean, it’s not like I’m considering mountaineering or fell walking. It’s just a short ride a couple of miles, and if I take you along I won’t even be on my own. So, what do you think, shall we chance it or not?’

  He barked, and Kim smiled.

  ‘That’s what I thought you’d say, you bad boy.’

  She stood, and Barney jumped down gazing at her expectantly.

  She grabbed her car keys and jacket and opened the front door.

  Barney sat beside the passenger door of the twelve-year-old Golf and wagged his tail.

  ‘Back,’ she instructed, opening the rear door. ‘Now, if anything goes wrong I’m blaming you,’ she advised his reflection in the rear-view mirror.

  He barked as she got her legs into position. Her left was already feeling the fatigue of the day but if she took it at a reasonable speed she wouldn’t have to keep jumping on and off the pedals.

  She spoke to her companion throughout the five-mile trip and with relief turned up at her destination, ignoring the throbbing that was pulsing through her leg.

  She got out and opened the door for Barney to follow.

  He sat by her side as she knocked the familiar front door.

  The occupant appeared and smiled at them both.

  ‘Hey, Ted, unsurprisingly, I think I need your help.’

  Twenty-Two

  Stacey hesitated before knocking on the man’s door at 8.15 p.m. Although still light out, her mother had drummed certain rules into her as a child. She wasn’t allowed to go call for her friends before 10 a.m. or after 8 p.m. Respect and decency for other people, her mum had always lectured.

  But his teenage daughter is missing, she silently explained as she tapped lightly on the stained-glass panel.