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

by Angela Marsons

  ‘Sounds like I’m good to go,’ she said, pushing herself forward.

  ‘Any headaches, nausea?…’

  ‘Seriously, I’m fine,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘I don’t think you’ve done any permanent damage but I’d like you to go to hospital for an X-ray to make sure.’

  ‘Nah, I’m good, thanks,’ Kim said, holding out her hand to Bryant to help her up.

  The paramedic took off the gloves. ‘I can’t force you to go but it is my best advice.’

  ‘Hospital or station, guv,’ Bryant reminded her.

  ‘At least let me see you walk a couple of steps,’ the paramedic said, stepping back.

  Kim lowered her left foot to the ground and put her weight through it. She hid the pain behind an ‘I told you I’m fine’ smile.

  ‘Grimacing on the inside, eh?’ he asked with a half smile.

  The second step was less painful than the first. The next one was less tentative as the vision of the bone snapping in half disappeared from her mind.

  ‘A few more steps,’ he said, turning to Bryant. ‘You going to be with her for the rest of the day?’

  ‘Due to sins in a past life, I’d imagine so,’ Bryant replied drily.

  ‘Keep an eye out for any signs of concussion from the fall: throwing up, balance issues, complaints of blurred vision, confusion, saying things that don’t make sense…’

  ‘Yeah, some of those are gonna be difficult to isolate from normal—’

  ‘Bryant,’ she warned, sending him daggers. She didn’t need him giving them any excuse to hassle her further.

  She’d taken two more steps when her phone started to ring. It was the squad room.

  ‘Stace,’ she answered before she heard the voice. ‘Oh, Penn,’ she corrected, feeling the tension seep into her jaw.

  She listened as he spoke.

  ‘What?’ she said.

  He continued.

  ‘You are kidding?’ she asked.

  He finished speaking, and she ended the call.

  She smiled at the trio of technicians. ‘Sorry, guys, looks like I’m going to the station after all,’ she said.

  ‘We are?’ Bryant asked.

  ‘Oh yes, but first we have to pick up something on the way.’

  Fifty-Nine

  Stacey tapped twice on Emma Weston’s door as another shower started depositing thick raindrops onto her head. She moved closer to the building for shelter as a few spots found their way past her jacket collar and down the back of her neck.

  The door was opened by a frazzled-looking Mrs Weston.

  Her face instantly hardened.

  ‘Emma’s at school,’ she said, placing herself firmly in the doorway. ‘And she told me about you turning up there yesterday. I should complain,’ she said, stepping back and moving to close the door. ‘This is harassment of a minor, and she’s told you everything—’

  Stacey was ready and put her hand out to stop the door closing in her face.

  ‘I’m here to see you,’ Stacey said, pleasantly but firmly. ‘And to stop your daughter getting herself into any deeper trouble than she already is.’

  The woman hesitated. ‘What kind of trouble?’

  ‘Lying to a police officer, obstructing an investigation. It really is in your interest to give me a minute of your time, Mrs Weston.’

  Fear crossed her face but she frowned it away and opened the door. ‘Okay, but be quick, I’ve got to get to work.’

  Stacey followed her into a small kitchen off the hallway. The sink was full of sudsy water, and plates and cups littered the work surface.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Weston, I just need—’

  ‘Susan, call me Susan,’ she said, lowering the glasses first into the water. ‘When you use my last name you just keep reminding me of the bastard that left me.’

  As she hadn’t been invited to sit, Stacey remained standing by the fridge freezer.

  ‘I’ve just come from Jessie’s house,’ Stacey said.

  ‘Good for you,’ she said, without turning.

  ‘I get the feeling you don’t care for the Ryan family all that much,’ Stacey said, still hoping to appeal to the woman’s maternal instinct.

  ‘Not my kind of people,’ she said.

  ‘But your daughters are allegedly best friends,’ she said.

  ‘Allegedly?’ she asked, glancing sideways. ‘Emma would do anything for Jessie. Anything. Despite the fact Jessie’s parents have tried to keep them apart since the day they met.’

  ‘It hasn’t worked though, has it?’ Stacey asked. ‘But does Emma understand the complexity of Jessie’s health issues?’

  ‘Of course she understands. They’ve known each other for years and been best friends for the last few years.’

  ‘So, as a mother you can understand how Mrs Ryan is feeling right now?’

  ‘I’m sure she’s very worried but there’s nothing more I can tell you. Jessie left here to go see her boyfriend and that’s the last time we saw her. End of.’

  ‘And Emma knows she’s due to go into hospital tomorrow afternoon for an angiogram?’

  Susan swallowed. ‘Of course.’

  Stacey knew that this wasn’t working. She could still feel Mrs Ryan sobbing against her chest as though her heart would break. Stacey was unsure Susan Weston would be moved by that even if she told her.

  ‘I’m guessing life’s not always easy with Emma?’ Stacey asked.

  Susan gave her a cutting look. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘She’s found herself in a spot of trouble, hasn’t she? More than once?’ Stacey said.

  ‘What teenager hasn’t?’ she said, reaching for a tea towel.

  ‘Three episodes of violence. One GBH?’

  ‘She took her punishment, officer, now if you don’t mind…’

  ‘Did Emma tell you that they fought on Sunday night?’ Stacey asked.

  Susan’s hand paused inside the glass she was wiping.

  ‘F-fought?’ she asked.

  ‘At the end of the path,’ Stacey explained. ‘When they both left the house. They were arguing and Emma slapped Jessie.’

  Susan continued to wipe the glass that was now bone dry.

  ‘Just teenage stuff,’ she said. ‘All best friends fight.’

  ‘But Emma was the last person to see Jessie before she disappeared, and she has a history of violence. I’m trying to keep her out of trouble, Susan, but if you don’t start helping me…’

  ‘What do you need?’ she asked, drying her hands.

  ‘To take a look in Emma’s room.’

  Susan looked doubtful.

  ‘The minute I apply for a search warrant it’s gonna…’

  ‘Go on,’ she said, nodding towards the stairs. ‘First on the left and don’t make a mess. I know what you lot are like.’

  Stacey turned and headed up the stairs. She hadn’t lied about the search warrant, except to say that she didn’t have a hope in hell of getting one.

  But she knew that Emma Weston was hiding something and she wanted to find out what.

  Sixty

  ‘I’m not sure Woody would agree that the Hollytree estate is on the way to the station,’ Bryant observed as they pulled up next to the wheelie bins that now had a pile of black bags three deep surrounding them.

  ‘I told you what Penn said and you know full well we don’t have enough for a search warrant, so we need the element of surprise on our side,’ she said, getting out of the car.

  ‘Guv, less than half an hour ago you were lying on your back, unconscious, in the middle of a grass patch. We could have uniforms…’

  ‘Needs to be us, Bryant, now get out of the car,’ she said, closing the passenger door.

  The car ride had served to stiffen her leg once more, but after a few tentative steps she slowly began to test it with her weight.

  ‘Stop looking so bloody worried,’ she said, as Bryant knocked the door. His sideways glances were beginning to freak her out.

 
‘Mr Mancini, may we come in?’ Kim asked, barging past the senior man of the house.

  She continued her journey to the living room, where Giovanni sat with damp hair and a towel around his midriff, messing with his mobile phone.

  He stood and looked behind for his father.

  ‘Sorry to barge in like this,’ she said once they were all in the same room. ‘But we’d like you to accompany us to the station to answer a couple of questions, Mr Mancini,’ she said, turning to the younger of the men and looking down at the side of the sofa.

  ‘And we’d like you to bring those Reeboks with you.’

  Sixty-One

  Stacey sat down on the bed, disheartened. She’d searched everywhere; every drawer, every cupboard, every corner, underneath things, on top of things, behind, in front and she wasn’t feeling particularly proud of herself right now.

  She’d waded uninvited through the personal possessions of a fifteen-year-old girl not only without her knowledge but also without her consent. And she’d found nothing. She sighed heavily as she tried to picture the two of them that night, before the argument, sitting here on Emma’s bed; talking, whispering, messing around on the laptop, watching TV listening to music, talking about make-up, boys.

  What had they been listening to? she wondered, glancing at the music centre at the back of the dressing table. Most kids used their phones and earphones or portable speakers, not the tall clunky ones taking up unnecessary space in a small room.

  Stacey frowned as she stood and moved back towards the dresser.

  Why indeed were the huge speakers taking up valuable space when even her clothes had spilled out of the small wardrobe onto a nearby chair?

  She looked from one to the other. One had a thin film of dust coating its shiny blackness. The other did not.

  She picked up the dusty one and placed it back. She picked up the other and felt the weight difference immediately.

  Emma was a girl who was used to having her possessions searched and needed to find inventive new places to store her secrets.

  Stacey lifted the speaker away easily. It wasn’t even plugged in. She took it to the bed and felt around the edging of the mesh frontage. She pulled along the top edge. The speaker came apart. In front of her was a pack of cigarettes, a disposable lighter, a card for a family planning clinic in Walsall and a scrunched-up supermarket carrier bag.

  Stacey tentatively opened the bag around what appeared to be a collection of items.

  As she took them out one by one her breath caught high in her chest.

  A battery, a sim card and a carcass with a sequinned union jack exactly like the one described on the missing person’s report form.

  A figure appeared in the doorway.

  Susan’s horrified gaze saw what she was holding.

  ‘Mrs Weston, can you please explain why your daughter has Jessica Ryan’s phone?’

  Sixty-Two

  ‘Sir, I’m fine,’ Kim said, for the third time. And it was almost the truth, if she ignored the pounding sensation from her shin bone right down to her ankle. Not a detail she needed to share with her boss.

  Jack, the Custody Sergeant, had made it perfectly clear when she’d entered the station that Woody wanted to see her. Bryant had taken Giovanni Mancini to an interview room as she’d headed up the stairs. So far, Woody had lectured her, told her off and asked her repeatedly if she was okay.

  ‘Now can we talk about Giovanni?…’

  ‘Stone, you were unconscious on the ground in the middle of a field.’

  ‘Only briefly, sir,’ she said, wondering if that would make a difference.

  His raised eyebrow said not.

  ‘You know you should have gone to the hospital for an X-ray and a check-up to make sure…’

  ‘Sir, I have a suspect downstairs for the murder of Doctor Cordell and possibly Phyllis Mansell, but I need to take a good look at his shoes.’

  ‘He’s here voluntarily?’

  She nodded.

  ‘You don’t have enough to arrest?’

  She shook her head. Working at the same hospital as the victim along with a few thousand other people and wearing the same mass market brand of trainers as hundreds of thousands of fellow consumers were not reasonable grounds to arrest. And that was all she had. She couldn’t even link Giovanni directly to the complaint from Cordell. If they’d been talking about the father, she might have had a chance. But the father wasn’t wearing the Reebok trainers.

  ‘Then you can’t touch them as you well know.’

  ‘But, couldn’t I just get them off him, take some photos, send them to Mitch and?…’

  ‘Stone, we’ll both forget you just asked me if you could do something that would get the case thrown out of court and both of us joining the unemployment line.’

  ‘Not really sure there is a line any more, sir, to be honest,’ she replied.

  ‘For clarity, Stone, the answer is categorically no. If those shoes leave his feet for even a second, you and I will have a very serious problem. Are we clear?’

  ‘Of course, sir,’ she said, as if there was never any doubt.

  He calmed quickly and changed the subject. ‘And the counselling sessions are progressing well?’ he asked.

  ‘Absolutely,’ she answered, edging closer to the door. ‘You gave me a time limit for the report and you shall have it by the end of the week.’

  He thought for a second. ‘Yes, I’m realising that you do appear to perform better when working to an exact time frame.’

  His expression told her that he’d just had some kind of light bulb moment. It wasn’t so much smug. Woody didn’t really do smug. But it was damned close.

  ‘So, with that in mind, I’d like an updated X-ray of your left leg on my desk by the end of the day.’

  She balked. ‘Sir, I can’t get that… I have too much to…’

  ‘Then, I suggest you get on and interview your witness, Stone, and I repeat once more, his shoes stay on.’

  Sixty-Three

  ‘So, what would you like?’ Bryant asked as they stood outside interview room one.

  ‘What I’d like is to get my hands on those Reeboks and see if they match the boot print on Cordell’s jacket. And then I’d like to check ’em for blood.’

  Penn’s call had informed her the print was a match for the exact type of shoe he was wearing, but to confirm a match she needed the actual pair of shoes used to make the print.

  ‘Yeah, dream on. I meant good cop, bad cop. What’re we doing?’

  ‘Policing in the twenty-first century would be a good one,’ she said, raising an eyebrow, before entering the room.

  ‘Thank you for your patience, Mr Mancini,’ Kim said, pleasantly, as she took a seat opposite him.

  ‘As you know, you’re here voluntarily just to answer a few questions. You’re free to leave at any time, do you understand?’

  He visibly relaxed at her tone.

  ‘Sir, you understand we’re investigating the murder of Doctor Gordon Cordell and your family appears to have a recent grievance against his actions.’

  ‘He had a grievance against us, but we didn’t fucking—’

  ‘Mr Mancini, you were very agitated yesterday on your father’s behalf.’

  ‘Too bloody right.’

  ‘Can you explain why you were so angry at Doctor Cordell?’

  ‘Not so much him. He was an arrogant, conceited wanker and got exactly what he deserved to be honest. He lied about my father who had discovered his filthy little secret and tried to destroy him just so he wouldn’t get found out. But I’m more angry with that fucking Medical Director woman for just tossing out my dad like that without even listening to him. Thing is, my dad wasn’t gonna say anything anyway. He’s seen all sorts of stuff but just keeps quiet, goes about his business and cleans up people’s shit.’

  ‘I think Vanessa Wilson has procedures to follow,’ she explained.

  ‘I don’t give a fuck about procedures,’ he spat. ‘My dad left that place
feeling like a liar and a thief and he doesn’t bloody deserve that.’

  ‘Okay, Mr Mancini,’ Kim said, calmly. He was a passionate man, quick to temper and she didn’t want him walking out yet. Not before she’d got those shoes.

  ‘She’s a tight-assed bitch who treated my dad like shit.’

  He lurched forward, taking her by surprise. ‘Do you have any idea how many times he’s worked a double shift because someone called in sick? Oh, can’t mention that because it’s illegal. How many times he stayed late because some new kid hadn’t been able to stick to the schedule. And he never complained once. You know why? Because he was grateful. He was so thankful to have a job he just kept his mouth shut and got on with it. And they all called him a fucking thief,’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘All?’ Kim probed gently.

  ‘Yeah, Cordell, his whore and the fucking director bitch. They’re all as bad as each other.’

  ‘And your father was definitely with you on Monday evening?’ Kim asked.

  The shift in questions caused a momentary lapse in concentration. He seemed to hesitate before nodding.

  ‘We were together at home, watching telly.’

  ‘Okay, Mr Mancini, and where were you both yesterday afternoon?’

  He frowned at her. His dark eyebrows within touching distance. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not going to answer that.’

  ‘But surely you can recall where you were this time yesterday?’

  ‘I didn’t say I couldn’t answer it, I said I wouldn’t, now I think it’s time—’

  ‘Okay, sir, no problem,’ Kim said, reassuringly. ‘At present, I only have one more question to ask, okay?’

  He nodded his agreement.

  ‘Giovanni, may I please borrow your Reeboks?’

  His face darkened even further as he began to shake his head.

  ‘No, officer. I’m afraid you may not.’

  Sixty-Four

  ‘You can’t say I didn’t ask nicely,’ Kim raged back out in the corridor.