Bridge to Burn

by Rachel Amphlett

  She balanced the two takeout cups of coffee in one hand and shoved the other in the pocket of her wool coat, wishing she’d remembered to wear the scarf that was currently folded up in her desk drawer.

  Increasing her pace, she reached the bottom of the road and turned left towards the Archbishop’s Palace.

  While the team had taken it in turns to rush out and find something to eat for lunch, Barnes had sidled up to her desk and asked if she’d meet him at their usual place for a chat.

  She’d agreed readily, noticing her colleague’s reticence and mindful of the advice she’d given to her team to get some fresh air.

  She simply hadn’t banked on that air being quite so fresh.

  A shiver wracked her as she stood at the pedestrian crossing waiting for the light opposite to flash green and then she hurried across, casting an eye over the congested traffic that wrapped its way between College Road and Fairmeadow.

  She found Barnes on the bench behind the Archbishop’s Palace, hunkered in his thick coat while he glared at the river as if it held sole responsibility for the cold snap that gripped the county town.

  ‘Here. Two sugars.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  He slid along the bench to make room for her, wrapping his fingers around the takeout coffee cup.

  After a few minutes’ silence while they watched a tourist boat slip from its moorings before its pilot steered it downstream, Kay turned to her colleague.

  ‘All right. What’s up? You’re not normally this quiet.’

  A quirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. ‘Make the most of it.’

  Kay remained silent, waiting for him to gather his thoughts.

  Eventually, Barnes spoke. ‘I’m worried I don’t have the support of the team, Kay.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I mean, when you’re not there. I wonder if they trust me like they trust you.’ His voice cracked, and he glanced away from her. ‘I wonder if they respect me, and then I worry that they don’t, and that it’ll affect this investigation – and others.’

  Kay rocked back on the bench, stunned. ‘Barnes, I can assure you that everyone back in that incident room has your back. So do I, and Sharp. He was only telling me last week how pleased he was you took on the role of detective sergeant. I can’t imagine working with anyone else.’

  ‘It’s just… I’m starting to question my own capabilities, you know? I forgot how much you had to juggle in this role. I’m scared I’ll let you down, Kay.’

  She sniffed, then rose from the seat, dusted down the back of her coat and lobbed the empty coffee cup into the bin nearby before turning back to Barnes.

  ‘You’ve never let me down, Ian. And I don’t believe you’re going to start now. I know taking on this role was a big decision for you, but trust me – there’s nobody else I’d want in my corner. You’re like the glue in this team.’

  Barnes lowered his gaze. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re going to have days like this when you question every decision you make, and you’ll wonder if you’re out of your depth, but that’s when you look around you. See who in the team has the skills and strengths you feel you need, and you delegate.’ She smiled. ‘And it is bloody hard work, juggling all of that.’

  He exhaled, then straightened. ‘Thank you. Sometimes I watch you, and you make it look so easy that I forget what you’ve been through to get where you are.’

  ‘I couldn’t do it without you.’ She leaned over and mock punched him on his shoulder. ‘Come on. Back in the saddle.’

  Barnes stood, brushing off the back of his wool coat and dropped his takeout coffee cup into the waste bin beside the bench before following her up the winding path beside the Archbishop’s Palace.

  Kay smiled as he hurried to catch up and then fell into step beside her.

  ‘Well that pep talk seems to have put a spring in your stride.’

  ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, guv. It’s not because of your management style. I can’t wait to get back indoors – it’s bloody freezing out here.’

  Thirty

  ‘We’ve got Damien Brancourt on CCTV the afternoon he was meant to be travelling to Nepal,’ said Gavin.

  Kay dropped her coat over the back of her chair and hurried over to where he sat with two uniformed constables, their eyes fixed to the computer screens before them.

  ‘And we’ve got a pattern of ATM usage,’ said Amanda. She crossed the room and held out a sheaf of paperwork to Kay, giving a copy to Gavin. ‘Small amounts, twenty pounds most of the time but then two hundred pounds on the morning of his death.’

  ‘Holiday spending money?’ said Kay. She flipped the page, running her gaze down the list of transactions.

  ‘That’s what I’m thinking,’ said Amanda. ‘But that last transaction was made at ten thirty-two in the morning.’

  ‘And the Petersham Building was full of contractors then, so he must’ve gone back there in the evening.’

  ‘That’s what we’re looking at here, guv,’ said Gavin.

  One of the uniformed officers sprang from his seat and gestured to Kay to take his place.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Let’s see it, then.’

  The constable next to her operated the controls and hit the “pause” button as a shadowy figure came into view.

  ‘This is the ATM on the corner where Rose Yard comes out on the High Street. It’s the one he used that morning. He walks straight past it this time.’

  ‘And he’s carrying no luggage. A bit strange for someone who’s meant to be catching a flight that night,’ said Kay.

  ‘He looks happy enough,’ said Barnes. ‘Not like he’s about to do a midnight flit or is running away from something or someone.’

  ‘We lose him here when he turns into Wyke Manor Road,’ said the constable.

  ‘Isn’t there any CCTV coverage up that street?’

  ‘Not back then, but given the council’s focus had been on the redevelopment works, replacing it might have been at the bottom of their “to do” list,’ said Gavin. ‘I checked this morning with them – the camera was up and running by the end of July.’

  ‘And maybe none of the development companies contracted by the council were worried, given a lot of them had their own security measures in place,’ said Barnes. He leaned over Kay’s shoulder and tapped the screen. ‘Damien could have cut behind these buildings from this street and reached the Petersham Building that way. If we’re going to speak to Mark Sutton again, we can put it to him that Damien Brancourt has been seen in the vicinity of the area he was contracted to secure and see what his reaction is.’

  Kay pushed back the chair and thanked the two constables before leading Barnes and Gavin towards the whiteboard. She peered up at the photographs that had been collated since the start of the investigation and resisted the urge to sigh.

  Instead, she waved Carys over to join them. ‘Okay, Julie Rowe reckons she overheard Damien threatening one of Sutton’s men at the protest and a scuffle ensued, resulting in Damien’s arrest. Sutton’s employee didn’t press charges, so he was subsequently let off with a caution. A few months later, Damien’s hours away from leaving the country for a planned trip to Nepal but decides to divert back into Maidstone that night instead. Did you see the time stamp on the camera footage? It’s after Annabelle Brancourt said they’d had dinner together, and John had taken him to the train station by then. So, where the hell is Damien’s suitcase – or a bag?’

  Three perplexed faces stared back at her.

  ‘John never mentioned Damien making a detour into the town centre when we spoke to him,’ said Barnes after a moment.

  ‘Maybe because he knew nothing of it,’ said Carys. ‘If Damien asked to be dropped off while he ran an errand or something, maybe it wouldn’t seem out of character to his dad.’

  Kay ran a hand through her hair as she looked at Damien’s photograph. ‘What the hell were you doing?’

  A phone rang on a desk in the far corner of the room, and it was
a few seconds before she realised it was her mobile, such was her frustration at the lack of information she stared at.

  ‘Guv?’ said Carys. ‘Phone?’

  ‘Christ – somebody get that!’

  Kay sprinted between the desks as Philip Parker held her phone aloft.

  ‘It’s Lucas Anderson, guv.’

  ‘Cheers.’ Kay took the phone and put it on speakerphone as the other detectives joined her. ‘What have you got for us, Lucas?’

  ‘We’ve got a match,’ said the pathologist. ‘John Brancourt’s DNA tested positive. The body that was in the ceiling is Damien Brancourt, without a doubt.’

  Thirty-One

  Barnes pressed the doorbell then took a step back and peered up at the large wrought-iron framed window above the portico of the Brancourts’ home.

  ‘Doesn’t get any easier, these house calls,’ he muttered. ‘Especially when we’ve already done it once.’

  Kay didn’t respond, her thoughts similar to her colleague’s words.

  She turned away and cast her eyes over the ornate front garden, the plants wilted in the cold air. Beyond a moss-covered bird bath, a male blackbird pecked at the lawn seeking some form of sustenance.

  Lucas had ended his call to her an hour earlier with the news that Damien Brancourt’s electrocution hadn’t indicated he’d been tortured, much to the whole team’s relief.

  It still didn’t eliminate Mark Sutton from her enquiries, though, and Kay had reiterated her warning to her colleagues that the man should not be approached alone.

  Her focus returned to the house as a bolt shot back from the door a second before it was opened.

  Annabelle Brancourt frowned when she saw them. ‘You again?’

  ‘Can we have a word, please?’ said Barnes. ‘Is your husband in?’

  The woman stood to one side and gestured for them to enter. ‘He’s in the kitchen. Go on through – you know where it is.’

  Kay led the way along the hallway, her focus on the floor rather than the luxurious surroundings this time. She knew the Brancourts would never recover from the news she was about to share with them, and the house would no longer feel like a home.

  A sadness swept through her, taking her by surprise. She bit her lip to force down the emotion and shoved open the door through to the kitchen, an aroma of garlic and herbs wafting over her.

  John Brancourt turned from the sink, a tea towel and wine glass in his hand. ‘Something the matter, Detective Hunter? We were about to have dinner.’

  Kay waited until Annabelle had followed Barnes and then moved closer to the table, eyeing the two places set and the bottle of Merlot that appeared to have been opened moments before. ‘Are you expecting anyone else?’

  ‘No, it’s just us tonight. Christopher and Bethany – the twins – are out,’ said Annabelle.

  ‘Oh? How old are they?’ said Kay.

  ‘Sixteen,’ said Annabelle. ‘Look, I’m supposed to be dishing up in fifteen minutes. What is it you want?’

  Barnes turned his attention to John. ‘When we first spoke with you, you stated you took your son to the train station so he could travel to Heathrow and catch his flight to Nepal last June. Is there anything else you’d like to add to that?’

  John lowered his gaze before setting the wine glass down on the worktop and took a seat at the table, his fingers twisting the tea towel. ‘I did intend to take Damien to the train station, but when we got nearer to town he asked me to let him out nearby rather than at the station itself. Said he’d arranged to meet a friend and they were going to travel to the airport together.’

  Kay pulled out a chair opposite him and leaned forward, her interest piqued. ‘Where did you drop him off?’

  ‘At a bus stop on Sittingbourne Road, near the pub on the roundabout.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Annabelle glared at her husband. ‘You said you took him to the train station. You said there weren’t any problems.’

  ‘There wasn’t a problem.’ John sighed and held up his hands. ‘Look, I’m sorry. But he was so excited about the trip, and then when he told me about this friend he wanted to meet, I could see I was going to be in the way. Apparently they were going to have a couple of drinks and then wander into town to catch the train.’

  ‘Did he tell you his friend’s name?’ said Barnes.

  ‘No. I didn’t ask, either. I didn’t see anything wrong with it.’

  Kay sighed and turned to Annabelle. ‘Would you like to sit?’

  ‘I’m fine here.’ The woman folded her arms across her chest.

  ‘All right. Look, I’m sorry to have to be the bearer of this news. We’ve had a phone call from our pathologist about an hour ago. The DNA results came back positive. We’ve double checked everything, including with the British Consulate in Kathmandu. I’m so sorry Annabelle, John. The body discovered in the Petersham Building is confirmed as being Damien. He never caught his flight to Nepal.’

  ‘What? No.’ The woman’s bottom lip quivered, and then she took a step back as a wail emanated from her, the agony of the news clear in her tear-streaked eyes. She gulped at the air as if struggling to breathe.

  John Brancourt collapsed into the chair, his head in his hands. ‘What do we do now? Damien…’

  Kay pushed away from her seat and crossed the kitchen to where a water filter jug sat next to a kettle and filled two glasses, returning to the table to pass one to John before taking the other to Annabelle.

  ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Small sips.’

  She hovered next to her, watching her carefully as she struggled to control her breathing.

  Eventually, Annabelle passed back the glass after a sip and waved her hand at it. ‘I’ve had enough.’

  Kay took the water. ‘Sit down. Please.’

  She waited until Annabelle joined her husband at the table, noting that she didn’t sit next to him but choosing instead to perch on the corner of the window seat.

  ‘We’ve analysed the CCTV footage for all London train stations and the Heathrow terminals,’ said Barnes. ‘Damien doesn’t show up in any of them so based on what you’ve told us, John, we’ll widen the search to include cameras along the Sittingbourne Road as well to see if we can trace Damien’s movements and find out who this friend of his was.’

  ‘I don’t understand why he hung around,’ said John. ‘Why didn’t he go to Heathrow? Why didn’t he phone me? I had my mobile on hands-free. I could’ve turned around and gone to get him if he was worried about something.’

  Kay’s heart clenched at the distress in Brancourt’s voice.

  ‘We don’t know yet, but you have my word we’ll find the answers,’ she said.

  Thirty-Two

  The next morning, Kay faced her colleagues to bring them up to date with the interview she and Barnes had conducted with Damien Brancourt’s parents.

  ‘Gavin – can you take a look at CCTV along the Sittingbourne Road and surrounding area? We need to find this so-called “friend” Damien was meeting, and find out who he is, and what he knows about his death. Make that your priority this morning.’

  ‘Will do, guv.’

  ‘Carys – while he’s doing that, get onto uniform and ask for some help to interview the licensees and staff of any of the pubs within a one-mile radius of Damien’s drop-off point. Again, we need to get our hands on that information as quickly as possible, so do what you can to expedite it.’

  ‘Guv.’

  Kay ran her gaze down the HOLMES report Debbie had printed out for her, checking through the tasks the database had assigned and delegating these to her team. Finally, when the last order had been given, she picked up a sheaf of papers and held it up.

  ‘This is Amanda’s initial findings into Sutton Security Services. It’s been saved into HOLMES, so have a read of it when you get back to your desks. Amanda – can you provide an overview for everyone?’

  The financial investigator pushed back her chair and joined Kay at the front of the room. ‘From what we’ve
managed to glean from ELMER, it appears on the surface that Mark Sutton is running a tight ship. There are none of the obvious signs we look for – unexplained large deposits or credits to the business accounts, no tax audits carried out on the business in the eight years it’s been trading.’

  Barnes leaned his elbows on his knees and emitted a loud sigh. ‘So, we’ve got nothing on him, is that what you’re saying?’

  Amanda smiled. ‘No, quite the opposite. We simply had to delve a little deeper into the system. Detective Hunter, can I use the overhead projector a moment?’

  ‘Of course.’ Kay signalled to Parker and stepped to one side while he dragged a small table across the carpet and then set the projector on top of it, pointing it at the blank wall above a filing cabinet. ‘Thanks.’

  After logging in, Amanda executed a series of commands before a photograph appeared showing a car wash business.

  ‘I know that place,’ said Gavin.

  ‘Right, and there are a few locally but this is one we’ve been keeping our eye on, due to the fact that most of the staff are paid cash in hand. The problem with these roadside car washes is that they’re popular amongst people-smuggling gangs up and down the country,’ said Amanda. She approached the image, and tapped her finger on a figure lurking in the background, his face in shadow. ‘This is Barry Esher, a close associate of Mark Sutton. Mr Esher is a person of interest for my team because he’s previously spent time at Her Majesty’s pleasure for fraud and extortion.’

  ‘When was he released from prison?’ said Kay, her interest piqued.

  ‘A couple of years ago. Since then, and similar to Gary Hudson, he’s acted as enforcer for Mark Sutton. Sutton doesn’t like to get his hands dirty, that much is evident.’

  ‘How does this help us?’ said Carys. ‘None of the people we’ve spoken to about Damien Brancourt have mentioned him ever going near this place.’

  ‘Because Barry Esher is also known as Adrian Sutton. He’s Mark Sutton’s cousin.’ Amid the stunned silence that filled the incident room, Amanda pulled out a page from her file, handing it to Kay. ‘He changed his name by deed poll twelve years ago after an altercation in Bromley that left one man dead. Adrian got away with it, but disappeared for a few years. When he came back under his new name, it appeared that he hadn’t learned his lesson because he beat up a patron of a pub in Chatham so badly the man lost a kidney. He did time for that as well. What’s more, Adrian Sutton signed the security roster to enter the Petersham Building the day Damien Brancourt was supposedly flying to Nepal. He’s scrawled his signature on the page so it’s hard to recognise, but I’ve seen it before. It’s him.’