by Michael Wood
All four of Stuart and Sian’s children knew what their mother did for a living. They knew the potential dangers she could face on a daily basis, but it was never spoken about in front of them. Whenever they wanted to discuss her work, it was usually last thing at night before they went to sleep, or, like now, when the kids were all in bed and they had some alone time.
Sian tossed the note pad onto the coffee table and relaxed in her husband’s arms. ‘I had a visitor just as I was leaving the station. Bev. She works as a prostitute. She’s like the mother to all the young girls on the streets. She came in about a year ago saying one had gone missing and now she says another one’s gone missing too. I’m not sure what to do about it.’
‘Maybe they’ve moved on,’ he said, taking a sip of his tea.
‘It’s possible. I just … I don’t know. I’ll have a word with Matilda. I left Bev to make an official missing person’s report. The thing is, there has been talk over the past year or so of street workers going missing.’ She scratched her head. There was a worrying look on her face. ‘You know when there’s something wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it?’
‘What are you working on?’ he asked, nodding at the note pad.
‘I’m trying to make sense of the notes I took from a bloke at the GMC. This Clive Mercer, he faced three hearings over the past six or seven years. An elderly lady, a man in his forties and a child aged three all died in his care.’
‘Did he kill them?’
‘No. On each occasion he was found to have acted lawfully. Mistakes were made, and lessons would be learned. The usual guff. I’m giving myself a headache trying to find someone who would want to kill him and his family and just can’t seem to find anything.’
She snuggled deeper into her husband’s arms and rested her head on his chest.
‘There’s more than you working on that team, Sian. Delegate.’
‘I know. I will.’
‘Would you like me to carry you up to bed?’
She laughed. ‘I’d love that. I think I’m going to spend a few more minutes on my notes. You go up. I won’t be long.’
Stuart stood up, kissed her on the forehead and left the room, taking his cup of tea with him. ‘Love you.’
‘Love you, too,’
Sian picked up her note pad and looked at the three names she’d written – Margo Sanders, Martin Walken and Milly Johnston. They had all died on the operating table while Clive Mercer was monitoring their anaesthetic. In each case he had been forced to justify his actions to the GMC. In each case he had been found to have acted responsibly. However, after the hearings, Clive had grown in confidence, or was that arrogance? He hadn’t appreciated having to explain himself in a position he thought he ruled.
Clive’s anger had grown. He wasn’t used to being questioned. He’d become complacent in his duty and it wasn’t appreciated by those he worked with.
It didn’t seem to matter how many people Clive had pissed off in his work, it didn’t alter the fact that if someone wanted to kill him they could have done so in a different way. There was no reason for anyone to have caused such a brutal and violent attack against Serena and Jeremy and left Rachel alive to witness the slaughter of her family.
Sian threw her notebook on the table and decided to sleep on it. There was something they were yet to uncover in the Mercers’ history, something so bad it warranted the butchering of three family members. Something that big would soon come to light. She hoped.
‘Can I come in?’ Chris asked, knocking on the bathroom door.
‘Sure.’
Chris opened the door. His nose wrinkled at the smell of the muscle relaxant his mother had put in the bath. Through the steam of the heat, Scott was just about visible. He had wrapped a towel around his waist. Chris saw, for the first time, the full result of his attack. Scott was pale. His skin was smooth and hairless. The dark purple bruises were stark.
‘Oh my God.’
‘It looks worse than it feels.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Look, I think you should stay over tonight.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ he lied.
‘Matilda’s staying over so you may as well. Mum loves a full house.’
‘Is there enough room?’
‘Sure. You can have my bed.’
‘And where will you sleep?’
‘I’ll take the sofa.’
‘No. That’s not fair. Look, give me a hand to get dressed and I’ll give Rory a call. He can come and fetch me.’
Scott struggled to walk out of the bathroom. Chris led him into his bedroom and sat him down, carefully, on his bed. He sat next to him.
‘I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what really went on tonight.’
‘It’s to do with this case. Occupational hazard,’ he tried to laugh but it hurt.
‘You going to press charges?’
‘No. Like I said, all in a day’s work.’
Scott looked ahead. His face was a map of worry. His frown lines were heavy. His eyes were large and wet as if he was about to burst into tears.
‘Scott, what’s wrong?’ Chris asked quietly.
Scott tried to reply but his emotions betrayed him. A tear fell and his bottom lip wobbled. ‘I’m all … knotted,’ he said. ‘I feel …’
‘What?’
Scott turned to look at Chris. He immediately leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. ‘Fuck,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I’m sorry.’ He tried to get up off the bed but cried out in pain.
Chris grabbed him to stop him from falling and sat him down on the bed. He reached out, took hold of his chin and turned his head towards him where he reciprocated his kiss.
‘What did you do that for?’ Scott asked.
‘I’ve been wanting to do it since the first night I saw you in Endcliffe Park all those months ago.’
Scott let out the breath he’d been holding. ‘Really?’
‘Oh yes.’
Scott smiled. It was the first genuine positive emotion he’d felt in months, years. ‘You can do it again if you like.’
Chris took Scott’s head in both hands and kissed him firmly and passionately on the lips. It was a kiss so powerful, so electric, neither of them wanted it to stop.
Chapter Forty-Five
Matilda entered the HMET suite with a takeaway latte in hand. She’d asked the barista for an extra shot of caffeine, but as she’d walked up the stairs and taken a sip, it didn’t taste any stronger. She had slept fitfully last night in Adele’s spare bedroom which was next to Chris’s room. She had strained to hear the muffled conversation between Chris and Scott which went on into the small hours of the morning, but couldn’t make out what they were talking about.
The room was already abuzz of activity. Matilda took another sip of the coffee, asked Sian to throw her a Boost from her snack drawer and opened the morning briefing.
‘Where’s Scott?’ Aaron asked.
‘No idea,’ Rory said. ‘He didn’t come home last night.’
‘He’s finally pulled? About bloody time. I was starting to get worried about him.’ Aaron smiled.
Matilda cleared her throat. ‘Scott suffered an altercation last night. He’ll be taking today off,’ she said. As she’d left Adele’s she’d sent Scott a text telling him not to come in today after being attacked last night.
‘An altercation? What does that mean?’ Rory asked, looking worried.
‘He was involved in an incident.’
‘Is he OK?’
‘He’ll be fine. He just needs today to rest.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Rory, we’ll talk after the briefing,’ she said, silencing his questions.
Rory sat back in his seat. He had the confused look of someone trying to recite their thirteen times table. He took his mobile phone out of his jacket pocket and ran off a quick text at speed.
‘Right then, developments,’ Mat
ilda began. ‘I had a phone call yesterday evening from Keith Lumb. I’m guessing he’s been in contact with his sister and she passed my number on to him. He is adamant he was nowhere near the Mercer house on Sunday night. The call was traced to Maidstone in Kent, which makes me believe he’s trying to flee the country.’
‘Why run if he’s innocent?’ Aaron asked.
‘My sentiment exactly. The thing is, he sounded scared. So, is he running because he’s committed three murders or is he running because he’s been set up by someone?’
‘Maybe we should talk to the sister again.’
‘Me and Rory spoke to her last time, so I think we should pay her another visit. Now, Kent Police said they were going to step up their patrols in trying to find Keith. His photo has been sent to all airports, bus and train stations and the port at Dover, just in case he tries to cross the Channel. ACC Masterson has put out an appeal to all press for anyone to get in touch if they see him. If any of you have seen this morning’s national newspapers, you’ll have seen Keith looking up at you from the front page. So far, we’ve had no genuine leads.’
‘The phones are ringing off the hook by all accounts,’ Aaron said.
‘It’s a sad fact that a lot of them will either be pranks or false leads. However, they all need to be followed up. Any information that comes through with sightings in other jurisdictions needs passing on to that police force for them to check out. We will deal with all South Yorkshire sightings. In the meantime, we still need to work on a motive for why the Mercer family were killed.’
‘I spoke to someone at the GMC yesterday,’ Sian said, putting down her bag of Maltesers. ‘My goodness, he was dull. Also, my email is back up and running so I’ve got the files of the three cases.’ She flicked through her note pad. ‘We’ve got Margo Sanders aged eighty; Martin Walken, forty-six; and three-year-old Milly Johnston. All from Sheffield.’
‘Oh God. A three-year-old?’ Aaron asked. ‘What happened to her?’
‘She had a brain tumour. There was a fault with her oxygen levels during the surgery to remove the tumour. They couldn’t restart her heart.’
‘Poor kid.’
‘Adele Kean would have worked on the post mortems on each of the patients, I’m guessing, so I’m going to have a word with her and see if there was anything unusual about them. Just on the off-chance,’ Sian said.
‘Good thinking,’ Matilda said. ‘Contact each of the next of kin and find their alibis for the night of the murders.’
‘I’m a step ahead of you there,’ she said with a smirk. ‘The benefit of working on a case that won’t allow you to rest is that it affects your sleeping patterns, so, I was on the phone from seven o’clock this morning. Margo’s next of kin was her husband, Vince. He died about eighteen months after his wife of a stroke. I spoke to his daughter who lives in Dorset and has an alibi for Sunday night. Martin Walken’s next of kin is his wife, Louise. She accepted the GMC ruling and has no ill will against the Mercers. She’s emailed me several photos of herself at a concert on Sunday night. As for Milly Johnston, her next of kin were obviously her parents. I’ve called the house and spoke to a bloke called Zack Fisher. He’s house-sitting while the parents are away on holiday in southern Spain.’
‘And all that before breakfast?’ Matilda asked.
‘I’m dedicated, what do you expect?’ She said with a smile.
The glass double doors were opened, and a uniformed ACC Masterson entered the suite. She was only a small woman but she commanded a great presence. Everything stopped when she entered a room.
‘Ma’am,’ Matilda said, surprised by the visit.
Valerie nodded. She remained standing by the door. ‘Are we any closer to finding this Keith Lumb?’
‘I haven’t had a chance to call Kent Police yet, so I don’t know if they’ve had any sightings.’
‘Don’t bother. I had a call from Manchester Police an hour ago saying a truck driver dropped him off at Piccadilly Station late last night.’
‘What? How genuine is the sighting?’ Matilda asked, looking confused.
‘Very. The driver said it was definitely Keith Lumb. They’re emailing through his statement. Apparently, when it came on the news about him being in the Maidstone area he panicked and asked him to drop him off at the station. When the driver let him out, he looked him up on his phone, saw his picture on the BBC News app and called it in.’
‘Why has he come back north?’
‘He has family here, doesn’t he?’
‘Yes.’
‘Maybe he’s come back home.’
‘OK. He has a flat in Tankersley. I want that watching and his sister’s house needs keeping an eye on too. His mother is in a home. I need to know which one and that needs monitoring too,’ she said to Christian, who made a note and said he’d get right on to it.
Sian’s phone rang. She answered it before the end of the first ring.
‘Matilda, the press is all over this,’ Valerie said, dropping her voice. ‘This story has gone worldwide – three professional people in a middle-class part of Sheffield butchered on the day of their daughter’s wedding. This sounds like the plot of a Hollywood movie.’
‘Matilda would be Liam Neeson though,’ Rory said with a smile. He looked down when it was met with steely glances.
‘I need a development on this by the end of today,’ Valerie said, wiping a hand across her brow. She looked tired and drawn. She had obviously been on the receiving end of an awkward conversation with the chief constable. ‘I do not like Sheffield being on the front pages for the wrong things. Are we clear on this, Matilda?’
‘Very,’ she replied icily. She did not like a dressing-down in front of her team. It wasn’t good for morale.
‘Good.’ She glanced around the room before turning away and leaving the suite.
The silence developed as all eyes returned to Matilda.
‘Right, Rory, we’re going to see Elizabeth Lumb again. She must know where her brother is heading. Sian, you’re on motive. Christian, use Aaron and Ranjeet to cover Elizabeth’s house, the flat in Barnsley and the care home their mother is in.’
‘We don’t have enough people for all this.’
‘I’m aware of that,’ Matilda almost shouted. ‘Get uniform on it. Get the Barnsley police to lend some officers. If it wasn’t for them letting a prisoner go in the first place we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess. Today would be good, Rory,’ she said, charging out of the suite.
‘Ma’am, that was reception on the phone,’ Sian called after her. ‘Leah Ridgeway is downstairs. She said she needs to see you. She’s in a bit of a state.’
Scott opened his eyes. For a moment he couldn’t remember where he was. The wallpaper wasn’t familiar, neither were the curtains. He coughed. The pain shot through his entire body and he remembered everything about what happened last night. A smile spread across his lips when he recalled the long conversation with Chris. He turned over and looked at the empty space next to him. Maybe he’d been dreaming.
He picked up his mobile from the bedside table and saw a note underneath it. He rubbed his eyes until his vision was clear enough to read it:
Morning, I tried to wake you but you just turned over and went back to sleep. I enjoyed our chat last night. It was good to hear you feel the same as I do. I’m looking forward to seeing where this goes. I’ll text you when I get a free period. Chris, xx
Scott smiled as he read the note. He read it a second time and folded the small piece of paper carefully. He’d be saving this note.
Last night, Scott had opened up and told Chris everything. From his point of a view, it was a gamble that could have ruined their friendship. They were very close, shared similar interests and got on well with each other. When Scott had finished, he looked Chris in the eye. He was surprised to see him smiling. Chris didn’t need to say anything. He leaned forward and kissed him firmly on the lips again. It was passionate and spoke a thousand words. When they pulled apart, reluctantly, the
ir entire relationship had changed. They were no longer friends. They were a couple. They spent the night sleeping in each other’s arms. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Scott had a deep sleep. He felt warm, wanted and safe.
Looking at his phone, Scott saw several missed calls from Rory and a frantic voicemail from just before midnight asking where the bollocking-hell he was. There was also a text from him sent an hour ago asking what incident had taken place yesterday. Scott’s heart sank. Had Matilda told him everything?
Before replying, he read the text from Matilda telling him not to come in today and spend the day recovering. He put the phone back on the cabinet and turned over, pulling the duvet over his head. As much as he wanted to revel in the happiness and warm glow his developing relationship with Chris made him feel, he couldn’t fully relax as the reality of his colleagues finding out, being the centre of attention, the constant questions, filled him with dread. Would they treat him any differently once they knew he was gay? Would they accept him? Would they want to work with him?
Leah Ridgeway had been led into an interview room to wait for Matilda. When the DCI opened the door she saw a different woman sitting behind the desk. Gone was the grieving daughter and sister who had lost the majority of her family, replaced by a determined, strong woman. Her face was free of make-up. Her hair was tied back in a severe ponytail. She wore a black coat and a cream-coloured sweater beneath. She sat perfectly still, her hands clasped on her lap in front of her. Her lips were pursed so tightly they were almost white. Her eyes were wide and staring, they couldn’t focus as she blinked rapidly and took in everything going on around her.
‘Leah, is everything OK?’ Matilda asked.
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I want you to arrest my husband.’
‘What? Why?’ Matilda sat down opposite her.
Leah swallowed hard. A tear fell down her face but she didn’t wipe it away. ‘Last night, he tried to rape me, and, I think he arranged for my family to be murdered.’
Chapter Forty-Six
Everywhere Keith looked he saw his face. He was on the front of all the newspapers. It was the picture he had taken the last time he had been arrested. He looked, dead-eyed, to the centre of the camera. There was no smile, no sneer, no look of regret, just a blank expression of a man hurtling towards his thirties with no future, no hope and no prospects.
