Nowhere to Run

by Rachel Amphlett

  Jasmina laughed, holding out a Tupperware box. ‘Nothing wrong with a Bruce Willis film now and again.’

  ‘Now and again being the operative words. Thanks for this – I thought something smelled good earlier.’

  ‘Honestly, I’d rather have had a pizza, but you know Mum. She worries I might be starving. Do you fancy catching up for a drink later this week?’

  ‘I’d love to, if I can. When does your shift at the surgery finish this week?’

  ‘Six, usually, but I’ll get an early finish on Friday.’

  ‘Not catching up with Peter for dinner?’

  ‘He’s going out with the football team after practice.’ Jasmina wrinkled her nose. ‘There’s only so much chat about the Premier League I can take.’

  Kay laughed as she wandered back to the door. ‘Then yes, let’s try to get out for a drink.’

  ‘Give me a call once you know what’s happening at work.’

  ‘Will do.’ Kay crossed to the staircase. ‘Thanks again for this.’

  ‘No problem. And, Kay?’

  She paused on the first step. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Be careful out there, all right?’

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, Kay peered through the passenger window as the pool car passed through the town centre, her gaze tracing the steady lines of commuters hurrying from the bus stops and train stations towards their places of work.

  Beside her, Higgins rested his hands on the steering wheel while his fingers tapped along to a song he hummed under his breath, before he eased into a right-hand turn and pointed at a sign fixed to a lamp post.

  ‘The gym’s up here on the left. Do you know this one?’

  ‘No – I cancelled my gym membership after Easter.’ She sighed. ‘It was getting too expensive, and I was hardly there. I tend to run these days.’

  Higgins glanced across at her, then back to the road. 'I heard someone say you were into your running. Are you training for the charity race this weekend?’

  ‘I’m trying to, in between working on this investigation.’ She shuffled in her seat to face him. ‘I went for a run last night when I got home. It was weird – there was hardly anyone else around. Blokes, yes – but no women. There are usually three or four who run at the same time as me in the evenings who I always say hello to.’

  ‘These murders have them all spooked,’ he said, his lip curling. ‘The sooner we find out who’s responsible…’

  ‘Still think it’s the same person?’

  ‘That’s my gut feel.’

  ‘Me too. But, why? What’s the connection between the two of them? There’s been nothing to suggest they knew each other from the witness statements I’ve read.’

  Higgins turned into a small car park beside a low-slung building and ratcheted the handbrake before pointing to the sign above the double doors. ‘I don’t know, but I guess we start here.’

  McDowell’s gym was a privately-owned establishment in one of the more affluent suburbs of the town, its front windows adorned with posters showing smiling models on stationary bikes, lifting weights or posing on rowing machines.

  Kay scowled at the pictures as she passed, wondering if anyone in real life ever resembled one of the models after a sixty-minute spin class, and led the way through the doors into the reception area.

  A stocky man in his forties with broad shoulders and closely-cropped brown hair looked up from a computer, then frowned as he realised he wouldn’t be signing up two new members that morning.

  ‘Dean McDowell,’ he said, rising to his feet and shoving his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans. ‘Can I help you?’

  She noted the logo emblazoned across the front of his T-shirt. ‘Are you the owner?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  After holding up her warrant card and making the introductions, Kay leaned on the counter and gestured to the computer. ‘We were wondering if you could confirm that Laura Scott was a member here.’

  'Hang on,' he said and jabbed at the keys while squinting at the screen. 'Yes. Joined a couple of years ago, but doesn't attend many classes apart from Pilates by the look of it. I think she and a mate of hers use the sauna a couple of times a week, and I've seen her using the weights room at weekends.'

  ‘That friend of hers––’

  ‘Tanya Green, according to this log.’

  ‘Right, thanks.’ Kay tapped her fingers on the counter. ‘What about Sarah Anderson – did she come here?’

  McDowell clicked through his database, then shook his head. ‘No-one here by that name. She was murdered too, wasn’t she? Do you think they knew each other?’

  ‘Too early to say, Mr McDowell. We’re simply trying to establish known facts at the present time.’

  Higgins cleared his throat, and she glanced across to where he stood next to a corkboard. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at a poster that lifted in the breeze from the air conditioning vent above his head.

  Kay recognised the logo for the charity run, then turned back to McDowell.

  ‘Do you know how many members of your gym might be training for that?’ she said.

  He shrugged. ‘Half a dozen, maybe. There might be more – some people don’t like to broadcast their training goals in case they don’t achieve them, or change their minds.’

  ‘Could you let me have a list of the members you know are planning to run?’

  His eyes widened. ‘Do you think they’re in danger?’

  ‘It’s just a precaution,’ said Kay. ‘We’d like to speak with them, so if you have phone numbers and email addresses as well, I’d appreciate it.’

  ‘Sure.’ McDowell peered at his screen and wrote down the details before giving the piece of paper to her with a shaking hand.

  ‘Thank you.’ Kay tucked the page into her notebook, then raised her chin. ‘One final thing, Mr McDowell. Where were you between the hours of three o’clock and seven o’clock yesterday morning?’

  McDowell swallowed. ‘I was at home asleep until the alarm went off at five, then I came in here and worked out until it was time to open at six-thirty.’

  'Can anyone vouch for you?'

  ‘My wife will, and we’ve got CCTV cameras all around the building – you’ll see me on those.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr McDowell.’ Kay snapped shut her notebook. ‘That will be all.’

  Chapter Five

  Kay hurried across Jubilee Square, then slowed as she approached Gabriel’s Hill, wary of the cobblestones under her low heels and determined not to wrench her ankle.

  It’d be sheer bad luck if she injured herself before the charity run and after last night’s training session left her with sore calves, she was determined to up the ante on her regime.

  Leaving the incident room to buy a cheap sandwich, she had paused on the way back at a favourite franchise and purchased coffee for herself and Higgins, grateful that the police constable had offered to make phone calls to the people on Dean McDowell’s list of runners while she had fought her way through another list generated by calls to the Crimestoppers number set up for the enquiry.

  They were winning the relentless battle with information by the time Sharp had commented on her stomach rumbling and told her to take a break – and the takeout coffee was better than the stuff in the vending machine outside the incident room.

  Kay huffed her fringe out of her eyes and bit back a sense of frustration at the lack of progress.

  Her mobile phone began to vibrate in her bag, and she paused to switch both takeout cups to one hand before rummaging in the side pocket and pressing the answer button before it went to voicemail.

  ‘Hunter.’

  ‘Only me.’

  She recognised Higgins’ voice and moved to the side of the pavement out of the way of an oncoming gaggle of teenagers in school uniforms. ‘I’ll be back in a sec. I’m nearly there.’

  ‘I guessed that, but I’ve been told to head over to Headquarters – they need cover over there for the rest of the shif
t.’

  Kay eyed the hot drinks in her hand. ‘Who gets your coffee?’

  Higgins chuckled. ‘Best give it to Sharp. Might keep you in his good books.’

  ‘Very funny. Okay, what d’you need?’

  'Just thought I'd give you an update before I disappear. I've finished speaking with the members of McDowell's gym who Dean said had signed up for the charity run – only one of them knew Laura by sight but confirms he never ran with her. He and his wife live out Coxheath way and tend to train together or run with the local harriers' group every now and again. None of the others knew her or Sarah Anderson, and I've got alibis for all of them too. They all check out.'

  Kay sighed. ‘Okay. Worth a shot, anyway.’

  'Hopefully, I'll be back in the morning – got to go.'

  ‘Thanks, Higgins.’

  She ended the call, dropped her phone back in her bag and picked up her pace as her thoughts tumbled over each other.

  Making a mental note to check that one of her colleagues had spoken to Laura’s neighbours about her running habits and whether she had been seen leaving her house yesterday morning with anyone, Kay zig-zagged between the stationary traffic on Palace Avenue and sidled through the security gates to the police station as they opened to let a liveried patrol car out.

  It paused next to her, the window lowering before an arm snaked out.

  ‘I’ll take it with me.’

  She leaned in and handed over the coffee to Higgins. ‘Sharp will be gutted he’s missing out.’

  ‘Don’t tell him.’

  Kay laughed as he pulled away, then frowned as she saw two figures emerge from a silver four-door vehicle at the far end of the car park.

  Amber grinned at Kay as she drew closer. ‘Hi, Hunter! How’s your training going?’

  'Okay, I suppose,' Kay said, then took a sip of coffee.

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t drink that stuff if I were you.’ Amber wrinkled her nose. ‘You’ll dehydrate too fast – you need to stick to non-caffeinated herbal tea at the moment. That’s what my personal trainer advises, anyway.’

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind, thanks.’

  Hugh peered over his shoulder at the sound of her voice as he lifted a briefcase from the back seat, and Kay raised her chin so she could look him in the eye.

  ‘I’d listen to her if I were you,’ he said. ‘Amber’s hoping for a decent race against you on Saturday.’

  Despite her natural competitiveness, Kay paused beside the lithe assistant forensic technician.

  ‘You are taking all this seriously, aren’t you, Amber? Making sure you don’t run on your own, that sort of thing while we try to catch this bastard, I mean.’

  The forensic assistant laughed. ‘Oh, don’t worry about me. I always make sure I run in a pair, anyway – it makes for a better training regime because I’ve got someone to pace with. You should try it sometime,’ she added before turning on her heel and making her way over to the entrance to the police station.

  Hugh swung shut the car door, aiming the key fob at the vehicle before grimacing at Kay.

  ‘I really don’t fancy your chances against her, Hunter.’

  ‘Thanks a lot, Hugh.’

  ‘Well, just so you know – there’s a sweepstake going around the office.’ He shrugged. ‘Her odds are better than yours.’

  Kay’s mouth dropped open as he hurried after his colleague.

  ‘Bloody great,’ she muttered, then glanced at her watch and swore.

  The briefing was due to start in five minutes.

  Chapter Six

  Kay leaned her head against the bus window and watched the darkening Tonbridge skyline come into view, cursing the broken clutch that meant her car was in for repair, leaving her to rely on public transport that day.

  The journey home took thirty-five minutes by train, but due to signalling works she was corralled onto a bus replacement service at Maidstone.

  She swayed on her feet for the first few miles, hanging on to the back of a seat and jostling for elbow space with a crowd of disgruntled commuters, turning her face away from a large man with body odour as he’d leered at her.

  Sinking into a spare seat at Wateringbury as soon as a woman rose to leave, Kay plucked the free newspaper she left behind and began flicking through the pages.

  Most of it was regurgitated celebrity gossip, interspersed with a little news and advertisements for local businesses.

  Her gaze wandered over the bright coloured boxes extolling the cost benefits of having her legs waxed (‘A Massive 20% Off!’) alongside the option of visiting a psychologist if Kay was over-stressed or trying to quit smoking (Kay wasn’t, on both counts) until she turned the page, and stopped.

  Kay swallowed and re-read the brightly-coloured print.

  A split second later, her heart jumped.

  Underneath a feature about the upcoming charity run, an advertisement had been placed.

  Surrounded by a bright red border, the wording leapt from the page, taunting her.

  Get the best from your training. Download our free app. Map your route. Compare your times. Race your friends!

  Below the wording, the advertisement reference had been displayed, together with a website address. No phone number.

  Kay checked over her shoulder. The bus was empty now, save for a teenager listening to music at the far end, a faint hiss-hiss audible from where she sat.

  She pulled out her phone, flicked to the front of the newspaper, and dialled the advertising manager’s number, crossing her fingers that he’d be working late.

  He was.

  Kay identified herself, explained what she needed, and told him she’d be at his office with the relevant paperwork in the morning.

  Chapter Seven

  Her shift was three hours old by the time she’d found Higgins, explained he was coming with her for the day, assuring him she meant work, nothing else, and made her way across town to meet with the advertising manager of the free newspaper.

  Chatting with the newspaper executive resulted in them being given the name and address of the man who had placed the advertisement and after she’d explained her theory to Sharp, he’d sent them away to investigate further.

  Fifty-five minutes later, Higgins swung the car into a leafy cul-de-sac, slowed at the kerb, and turned off the engine.

  They sat for a moment, eyeing up the properties on the small street.

  The front gardens varied from being lovingly tended to the unfenced basics of the house in front of them.

  ‘Background check confirms Cameron Ashe and his wife have been renting here for three months,’ said Higgins, his hands still on the steering wheel as he peered up at the bedroom windows. ‘No kids. Moved down from Bolton.’

  ‘Any pets?’

  ‘No, so we don’t have to worry about dogs attacking us.’

  ‘Just as well. Right, let’s do this,’ Kay said, opening her door. ‘And if you think of anything I need to ask about this app of his and I don’t raise it, feel free to chime in.’

  ‘Will do.’

  After Higgins rang the doorbell, they stood on the front step for a couple of minutes before the door swung open, and a thin man of medium height peered out at them through bloodshot eyes.

  His hair awry, he frowned, tucked his stained T-shirt into his jeans, the pushed his glasses back up his nose.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  Kay introduced Higgins and herself before she held up the newspaper clipping. ‘Mr Ashe – can you please confirm you placed this advertisement?’

  He squinted, reached out and pulled her hand closer, then nodded. ‘Yes, I did. What’s this about?’

  Kay lowered the newspaper. ‘Could we come in, sir?’

  ‘Sure, sure.’

  He turned and led the way into a sparsely furnished living area, the paintwork beige and the carpet threadbare. Within six paces, he’d reached the kitchen worktops and turned back to them.

  ‘Did you want tea or anything?’

  ‘
No, thanks – that won’t be necessary,’ Kay said. ‘We’d like to ask you some questions about your running app.’

  He nodded. ‘Okay. Why don’t you come through to the office, then?’

  With that, he opened the back door and walked outside.

  Kay turned to Higgins, raised an eyebrow, and then followed Ashe.

  They traipsed across an overgrown garden until they caught up with him outside a cinderblock shed.

  He turned to them, his hand on the door handle. ‘The last place we rented had an office in the house. Best we could afford down here was this. It’s warm and dry, though.’

  He flicked on a switch as he led the way into the small space, and a fluorescent strip light blinked into life above their heads. He waved them onto two packing cases next to his desk, while he sat on a battered office chair.

  The desk was a simple set-up – computer and screen, three drawers under the desk, and a filing tray rack next to the computer hard drive.

  Ashe rubbed his hands on his thighs as they lowered themselves into their makeshift seats, and Kay nodded to Higgins as he pulled out his notebook and pen.

  After Ashe had given them the potted history of how he’d left school, joined an IT company, then left that to pursue a career writing apps for smartphones a year ago, Kay brought his attention back to the newspaper advertisement.

  ‘So, this running app,’ Kay said. ‘From what I understand, it records people’s routes, and they can keep track of their times and see how they’re improving, right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you pass on that information to any third parties?’

  ‘No, that’s not allowed,’ he said. ‘There are strict data protection laws against doing that.’

  ‘But you do collect the data?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you show me?’

  ‘Of course. Hang on.’

  He spun around on his chair, then wiggled the mouse on the desk until the computer burst to life.

  Kay watched, his movements swift and precise as he brought up the programme on the screen. She stood, moving closer until she was standing at his shoulder and could see what he was doing.