Lethal Game, page 11
‘I’m looking for someone. Shannon. Is she here?’
‘Shannon!’ Suddenly he grinned like he was off the hook. ‘You and me both, love! No, she ain’t here. She drops the keys in to the agent yesterday and then she’s gone. One day’s notice. She owes me a month’s rent, she can’t just ditch like that.’
‘Agent?’
‘Letting agent.’
‘What was the noise? You were shifting something?’ Lucy still had her asp raised to rest on her shoulder but her grip was looser.
‘Shifting? Yeah, a sofa. Shannon, she left a message with the keys, said she had taken what she needed and I could do what I wanted with the rest. What I want is to get rid of it. It’s a big old heavy thing with sharp bits where you don’t expect no sharp bits.’ He waggled his bloody finger at her to back up his point. ‘I don’t want it here. I don’t rent my places furnished, more trouble than it’s worth. She’s left me missing a month’s rent, no time to put it up for new tenants, and sofa to move. So if you find her, let me know where, would you?’
Lucy let the asp drop so it was by her side, suddenly a little embarrassed to have racked it in the first place. ‘No forwarding address?’
‘Nope. I got the impression the agent might know a bit more but they can’t tell me nothing. I’m just the guy out of pocket. I tell you, the rental market’s a bit of a bastard. The whole system’s geared up for the tenants, there ain’t much helping me out.’
‘Which agent?’
‘Freedom Property Services. Little place off the High Street. Tell ’em Andy Watson sent ya. I’m all for helping you lot out.’
‘When there’s a month’s rent outstanding?’ Lucy said.
‘Exactly.’
‘Did she leave anything behind that gives a clue where she went?’
‘No. All she left was a water-stained bathroom and a mess. She’s not getting her deposit back, I tell you that much. I said to Coops here that she left in a hurry. Seems I was right. On the run from you lot then, is she?’
‘Coops’ slunk into view at the mention of his name. He was a little younger and much scrawnier than his companion, also wearing jeans and a T-shirt but with a belt that appeared to be wrapped round him twice. He looked untidy overall, his eyes darting over and around Lucy, rather than settling on eye contact.
‘Nothing like that. I just want to talk to her. Can I have a look around? I just want to see if there’s anything of use.’
‘Be my guest!’ Andy grinned. ‘Just put that stick away, would you? Brings back bad memories!’
Chapter 17
Joel pushed himself away from the computer monitor with force enough to make it wobble. If was also enough to disturb the sensors in the ceiling and the white office lights erupted like a camera flash. Joel slammed his eyes shut. He needed to stop. He had promised himself a cup of coffee and a break at 10 p.m., which was now just over two hours ago, a promise that was part of making sure he was alert enough to drive home. Now, for the second night in a row, he was past the point where his wife was messaging him. He knew he was pushing his luck.
The messages had started just after 4 p.m. – asking when he might be home so she could let the girls know. Then asking what time she should aim to make dinner for. Then his phone had rung, but it hadn’t been his wife; it was his two children trying to operate a video call while fighting to be in front of the camera. When are you coming home, Daddy? Are you ever coming home, Daddy? Joel had laughed – of course I’m coming home! But the direct questioning style of children had forced him to admit that he wasn’t sure when. Joel suspected they had been coached by their mother when they had made him promise that he would be there when they got up in the morning. He didn’t mind, of course. Any police officer with a family will attest that the mundane elements of family life are the first things you start to miss.
And now it was gone midnight and he had already made a nest on the sofa at the back of the office. He would have that coffee, then maybe put a brief plan together for the next day before a few hours’ rest. He could still sneak home in time to have the breakfast going before anyone woke up. Then it would be a shower and change and straight back.
His phone erupted to skitter and buzz across the work surface until it chinked into his empty mug – making a mockery of the silent setting. He lifted it to his ear without checking the screen. It could only be his wife.
‘Hey, I lost track of the time a bit—’
‘Joel?’ The voice caught him out. It took him a beat to place it: DCI Jim Kemp. And there was humour, even in that one word.
‘Boss.’ The word fell from Joel in a sigh.
‘You seem delighted to hear from me. I think I preferred the fear in your voice when you thought I was your wife.’
‘Six in the morning and now midnight. You’re not a man with a strong belief in office hours, are you, boss?’
‘It seems we share those beliefs. Are you still in your office?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘I’ll be right up,’ Kemp said and the call was cut. Joel swore into an empty office. He stretched as he got to his feet and headed for the tea-making area that was just across the floor. He spun a cup, grimacing that someone had put it back still dirty. He would give that one to the Chief Inspector. The kettle was just starting to rattle and billow its excitement when DCI Kemp walked in.
‘Casual,’ Joel said, referencing the fact that his DCI was wearing a hooded top over tracksuit bottoms. ‘Did you come back in just to speak to me?’
‘Well, it is true that I don’t like these sorts of conversations over the phone, but no, don’t start thinking you’re special. I’m living on site at the moment. I’m staying in the student digs at the training school. I figured I would use them for a week or two until I found somewhere to live but I’m not sure how I’m supposed to make time to look.’
‘Sorry to hear that,’ Joel said, ‘I won’t ask how you’re sleeping.’
‘Longer than you, I would suggest. I’m surprised to see you still here.’
‘I could have been at home in bed, woken by your call,’ Joel said.
‘Fine. I spoke to security, who told me you hadn’t swiped out yet. I can’t say he was surprised. Seems you have a bit of a reputation of making this place your home.’
‘Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? I assume that’s what you meant by these sorts of conversations?’ Joel used the excuse of finishing making the drinks to turn away.
‘Well, firstly, I was hoping to get an update on your case.’
‘Did you not get my summary?’
‘I read your email.’
‘I put everything on there, boss, I’m not sure what else you need to know.’ Joel stopped his movements to wait for the reply.
‘I just assumed there must be something else I don’t know about, seeing as you’re still at work?’
‘What do you mean?’ Joel was suddenly guarded. Kemp’s tone had a marked change.
‘The Super’s worried about you. Which means I get to be worried about you too.’
‘Well, you don’t need to be. There’s always a lot to do early doors, this is a murder investigation.’
There was a brief pause like Kemp was considering what he had said but that wasn’t the case. Kemp’s entire reason for calling was about to be revealed. ‘This job we all do has a thing: totting up. It’s this black cloud that follows you around, quietly getting bigger until one day you realise you can’t see out of it. Debbie’s worried about the impact from your last case. About everything. She thinks you have a tendency to be hard on yourself. Add in the fact that some of our esteemed colleagues have been piling on the pressure a little and we’re both worried that your black cloud might have got bigger.’
Joel turned back into the room to face Kemp. He handed him the soiled mug he had filled. ‘What is this, some sort of intervention? A month ago I might’ve understood.’
‘I wasn’t here a month ago.’
‘Debbie Marsden was.’
‘She was. We’ve only met a few times really but I have the impression of someone who doesn’t do the feelings bit too well. I don’t think she would be comfortable at all in this situation.’
‘I certainly couldn’t imagine her in a tracksuit,’ Joel said, trying to defuse an atmosphere that had suddenly become tense.
‘You know what I mean. I think I’m her way of making sure you’re OK. You were the first task she gave me.’
‘I’m flattered. And I’m fine.’
‘Sometimes you can’t know you’re struggling until it’s got a good hold of you.’
‘I would know, I’ve learnt a bit about myself. I’m not struggling now, this is different. This time I’m just angry,’ Joel said.
‘I understand that, but you are going to have to let that anger go. Maybe get rid of it on the punchbag. Being angry at PSD is never going to end well.’
‘I don’t mean PSD. I’m angry at me, at trying so hard to be something I’m not. I won’t do that again.’ Joel was using his tone to make it clear he was done with this conversation.
‘OK then.’ The DCI’s response was a half-smile laden with mischief. ‘Go home to your wife, Joel. Tonight, now. And again tomorrow night and the night after that. Dead victims stay dead and exhausted detectives don’t catch their killers. You don’t have to stay at work until a case is solved.’
‘I know that.’
‘You don’t have to do it all, either.’
‘I know that too,’ Joel snapped, stopping himself before he carried on with something career-threatening.
‘Lucy Rose might disagree.’ Kemp put his teacup back down on the table and stood up like he was leaving.
‘You spoke to Lucy?’ Joel had meant to sound less bothered.
‘I’m trying to get round everyone. She’s a massive asset if she’s handled right.’
‘And I’m not – handling her right, I mean?’ Joel was now studying his boss closely for his reaction.
‘She has her own struggles too, away from work. Talk to her sometime. Managing people isn’t just making sure they’re doing their job, it’s making sure they’re OK to do it. You were good at it when you were the skipper on the TSG, they all still adore you.’
‘You spoke to … Of course you did, you’re speaking to everyone.’ Joel groaned and pulled a chair out to slump into. The DCI’s grin had grown wider.
‘I like to know as much as I can about the people that work for me. You did too, once. Oh, and those cups need a rinse.’
Joel watched his boss leave, his exit taking him right past where the sofa was laid out ready to be slept on. Kemp was right, about some things at least. He should go home to sleep and wake up next to his wife after being bundled by his children.
‘The world’s greatest alarm clock,’ he said out loud to the empty office.
Day 3
Chapter 18
This time Alan was sure. He edged back, sitting straighter where he had slumped as far as the chain had allowed him. There had been a voice! He was just drifting off, and at first he had thought that it was part of a dream, but it had come again after he had snapped back awake; he was sure of it.
Outside was daylight. The sun low enough to be visible, its rays pushing through the open door of the trailer to turn the side of the sandpit translucent. He had been staring at it earlier, from the moment he had been left alone. The man controlling this nightmare had been here, still dressed like some demented mechanic in overalls, rubber boots and a leather hood that covered his head completely. He’d given Alan a drink, the first since he had been chained up, then played another recorded message, the same distorted voice from a small speaker that didn’t tell him anything new – just that this would all be over soon. Alan had questions and he’d started to speak but instantly a bread roll was forcefully pushed into his mouth, where it broke off, most of it falling to roll down his front and onto the filthy floor. Alan watched as the man took a step to the side and his thick-soled rubber boots came down on the rest of his dinner.
The pit! The recording had said, then been stopped while the figure rather unnecessarily took the time to point it out. The man was taking obvious pleasure in dragging this bit out. His overalls were baggy enough to hide his shape and size. He seemed tall, though it was hard to judge when sitting on the floor. Even the size of his hands was distorted as they were pushed into large rubber gloves. He made another dramatic movement to continue the recording: The pit has tools, weapons, things you will need. You will need to search for them, but you will not have long. There will be five chimes, each one will allow you to move another metre. After the fifth chime you will go. And so will he.
That was it. Alan already knew that he could expect a race against someone evenly matched – whatever that meant. The race was to a phone, and the directions to that phone were etched into the side of his lorry prison, as was the number he needed to memorise and call. When the line connected he needed to say a single sentence: I had to win.
That was it.
Then he would be free to go, his family would be safe and this whole nightmare would be over.
Still he had questions. Why him? How does he know so much about his family? Who was he running against? Why make them race? How does he know this will really be over? Alan had tried to ask again but the reaction was similar; the figure had stooped to pick up the flattened bread roll before stuffing it back into Alan’s mouth. It was too far in to spit out and anyway, he was starving, his strength suffering as a result. So he chewed and swallowed. Bits of grit were painful against his teeth, crunching in his ears. By the time he had forced it down, the man was out of sight and he was alone again.
Except he wasn’t. Because now someone nearby was shouting.
‘HELLO!’ Alan shouted back.
‘I think you were right!’ Alan was holding his breath to be sure he would hear; the words were still faint, almost out of range for a conversation. ‘We need to work together,’ the voice continued. The silence after was longer this time, like Alan was meant to respond.
‘OK!’ Alan called out, some of the strength lacking in his voice where he felt a surge of emotion that almost overwhelmed him. ‘OK!’ he shouted again, louder.
‘We can both come out of this OK. Find what you can and let’s get this bastard! Do you know where we are?’
‘No!’ Alan shouted back.
‘We need to work out where we are, that’s the first thing. I’m Bradley. We’re going to be OK.’
‘Bradley …’ Alan repeated, this time just talking out loud to himself, his voice now breaking down completely. ‘I’m not alone …’ He sniffed and peered out of the open door to focus on the only part of the outside world he could see: a square of green grass and the shape of a distant tree. He had spent the last few days yearning to be out there, to be walking through that grass, out under those trees. It could happen. The man in the hood and overalls had outlined a horror race, powered by terror and violence. But if they worked together, if they didn’t play his game, then they could both win, they could both walk away from this. ‘ALAN!’ he bellowed back, his voice stronger. ‘MY NAME IS ALAN!’ His last word was sobbed, the relief flowing out of him.
‘Alan … Are you chained up?’
‘YES!’
‘With a sandpit like a long jump?’
‘YES!’ He was right, that was exactly what it was like. They’d had one at his secondary school.
‘OK. So we’re the same. Keep your chin up. No more talking now, he could come back. He told me we’re going to be released. Then he wants us to follow his instructions. But we don’t have to! Do you agree?’
‘YES!’ Alan bellowed back, and then he broke down completely. He could feel the thick chain through the numbness in his shoulders as he sobbed, digging into him, tightening as he gulped in air. But he didn’t care. He wasn’t alone anymore and he wasn’t going to have to fight for his survival either.
Fighting didn’t suit him, it never had.
Chapter 19
‘I’m not going away! PLEASE! I’m not going away!’ Nicola meant it too, despite her stinging hands. It was Wednesday and still she hadn’t seen her mother since she had first been told about their family tragedy on Monday evening. She had even called the police to tell them that her mother might be missing but they weren’t interested. They had phoned her back at least, but only to say they had been able to speak to a neighbour who had confirmed that she was still coming and going. They had also told her that they had a record of her receiving bad news at around the time Nicola had last spoken to her.
No shit!
When Nicola had cut the call her frustration had bubbled over to the point where her phone had been flung the length of her kitchen. The evening she’d been told the news about her sister was murky at best; she had been all over the place and so it was no surprise that she had lost the phone number for the two officers who had broken the news. They would just tell her the same anyway, that her mother needed some space and time.
But Nicola needed her mother.
‘OK!’ Her mother’s voice and Nicola snatched onto it. The instant relief was soon forced aside by a tidal wave of anger.
‘You’re in there! SERIOUSLY.’ She lashed out at the door again, this time with a closed fist against the solid wood.
‘OK, OK!’ the voice said again. The door made unlocking noises. Nicola reached out to rest her hand on it. She was bleeding from her knuckle. The door pulled open and all that anger in Nicola dissipated just as quickly as it had come.
‘Jesus, Mum! You look terrible …’
‘Thanks.’ Her voice had an instant rasp; talking at all looked like it had been an effort. Behind her was only shadow. Nicola had seen that the front windows were blocked by curtains but all the others must be too. ‘You’d better come in.’
Nicola moved quickly, so that she caught her mother still holding the door as she swept her up in a tight hug. ‘Jesus, Mum … you don’t have to do this alone. None of us do.’
