The Fifth Grave, page 12
part #1 of DCI Jacob Series
Jacob said nothing.
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So what’s your next move?”
“We think a local man who lives very close to the murder scene may have some knowledge of what happened. We talked with him this morning and his alibi is very shaky. Out fixing fencing on a nearby farm on a quad and could have easily made it to the murder scene, where we found quad tracks, and back to work in time.”
Kent’s jaw opened in disbelief. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got, two days into what is now a double murder enquiry?”
“I’ve also re-opened the original case files from the Russell disappearance. Something’s not right about it.”
“What do you mean?” he asked sharply.
“I don’t know yet. It’s just instinct, but something about the original investigation is bothering me.”
“You’ll have more than your bloody instinct bothering you if I don’t start seeing results.” He raised his hand and separated his finger and thumb by a quarter of an inch. “I am that close to officially questioning your competence to be SIO on this case.”
“To questioning officially, sir.”
“What?”
“You split your infinitive.”
Kent fixed his steel grey eyes on him. “I hope you understand the sensitive nature of this case, Jacob.”
Jacob narrowed his eyes. “All murder enquiries are sensitive, sir.”
“Yes, but let’s not play games. The SIO on this case must understand that not all murders are equal, do I make myself clear?”
Jacob was shocked by the man’s bluntness. “If you’re suggesting that…”
“I’m suggesting nothing. I’m ordering you to get me some bloody progress, and in a hurry. Ian Russell ran one of the biggest investment banks in the country and is an extremely rich and influential man. Word is he’s in line not only for a knighthood but also to be the next Governor of the Bank of England.”
“The Messenger murder is more important now, sir. We have an active killer on our hands.”
“And how do you know they’re not connected?”
“They may be, and that’s what we are trying to establish, but in the meantime I have to prioritise the Messenger case.”
“I want a result for Ian Russell, Jacob, however you do it.”
“I’ll do what I always do and give it my best, sir.”
After a short pause, Kent’s eyes narrowed and a grim frown appeared on his face. “For now, I’m leaving this in your hands, but don’t take your eye off the ball. If there’s a link between these two murders that’s one thing, but don’t rule out the possibility of a rogue nutter living out some insane copycat fantasy. Keep everything in mind. Like I said, the eyes of the world are on us, and more specifically me, Jacob. We can’t afford any screw-ups on this one, and you can be damned sure of one thing – any blowback on this and I’ll make it all goes in your direction, understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He understood only too well.
*
Kent watched Jacob walk down the corridor outside his office, then he stepped over to the door, shut it quietly and moved back over to his desk. Lifting the receiver, he dialled a number and waited patiently for someone to answer.
“Dr Lovelace?”
“Yes.”
“This is Chief Superintendent Marcus Kent at Wiltshire CID.”
“Good morning, Marcus.”
“I want to talk to you about DCI Jacob.”
“I thought you might. What about him?”
He heard a note of worry in her voice. “I have my concerns about his competence to be back at work.”
“Why?”
“He’s uncommunicative, difficult and frankly I’m worried about his judgement.”
“In what way?”
“Reasons I can’t go into during an active investigation, but don’t take it personally.”
“If you’re questioning my assessment of him then yes, I do take that personally.”
“I’m not questioning your judgement but I feel being SIO on a high pressure case is taking too much of a toll on him and I’d like you to see him.”
She paused. “If you feel that strongly about it then you can have him assessed again by another psychologist. But in my professional opinion he has processed what happened in the fire and he’s fit for work.”
“Amelia, please… there’s no need to be so defensive. I’m merely trying to explain to you that he seems very uptight and I’m worried about him. I think he should be re-evaluated. Frankly I’m amazed he ever got through initial psych screening.”
She sighed heavily. “If that’s what you want then you can order it as his superior officer.”
“I do. I really feel we need to make sure he’s fit for the job. Will you please talk to him?”
He waited a long time for her response and when it came she sounded uncertain. “I’ll organise another session with him, but I don’t think he needs another full assessment.”
“Just talk to him,” he said. “We all want what’s best for him, after all.”
*
Jacob shifted into second and slowed for the bend. The road was dangerous, and a notorious stretch for black ice. If he had an accident it would only add to his woes; the last thing he needed now was Marcus Kent questioning his driving skills along with everything else.
Powering out of the bend, he changed into third and then fourth as he accelerated for the straight. In his mind he kept going over the conversation he’d just had with Kent. Doubting his ability, almost questioning his mind… He realised with shock he was gripping the steering wheel so hard he’d squeezed most of the blood from his knuckles.
I want results…
Jacob saw the turn-off he took to drive home but made a snap decision to turn around and head back in the opposite direction. It was nothing but intuition, but this case was no ordinary murder investigation and he was sure of it. Witches and ghosts in the woods, two deaths a quarter of a century apart, books on demonology. Something far more wicked than simple murder was stalking his patch and he knew he needed all the help he could get.
“If it’s results you want then it’s results you’ll get,” he muttered, and activated his hands-free phone kit.
“Sophie?”
“Hi, Jacob.”
“Can we bring our meeting in the pub forward?”
A short pause. “Sure, when do you want to meet?”
“Yesterday.”
Another pause. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
*
Back at the station in Devizes, Anna was standing outside and smoking a cigarette when her phone rang in her pocket. She looked at the screen and felt her neck muscles tense as she read the name listed on the caller ID. Everyone at the station knew about her ex-husband and his long career of crime but none of them knew the full details.
She had been young when they married and for a while it looked like he might just drag her down with him. But she had fought hard to get away from him. She joined the police and worked her way into the CID and up to the rank of sergeant. It had taken a long time to escape from the long shadow of Declan Taylor and she sure as hell wasn’t going to let him ruin it all for her now.
She had spent over a decade rubbing him out of her life but she always knew his release from prison was going to be a problem for her. He was a dangerous man and he was capable of some serious cruelty. He would work his way back into her life until she had no option but to offer help and money all over again.
She agonised over whether or not to tell Jacob about it. Could he help? Probably, and she knew she could trust him too but she didn’t want to change the way he thought about her. He respected her and valued her judgement. If she told him the whole truth about Declan it would rock him to his core and she just couldn’t risk it.
Slipping the phone back in her pocket, she finished her cigarette and walked back inside the station.
CHAPTER 16
The sun was trying to break through low cloud on the horizon when Jacob pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped down into the public bar of The Lamb. Located well off the beaten track, most of its clientele during the warmer months were tourists either staying in one of its rooms upstairs or using the camp site over the road, but this time of year most of the clients were families celebrating Christmas. Today, a small group of people were standing around a roaring fire with pints in their hands while Christmas carols played through a concealed speaker above their heads.
He shuffled through the drinkers gathered around the tinsel-covered bar and ordered a pint of beer and a glass of white wine. Picking up both glasses, he took an inch off the beer and then scanned the busy pub for Sophie. He knew she was here because he’d seen her Audi in the car park, but there was no sign of her in the public bar so he weaved his way around the back to the snug.
He saw her sitting on a window bench seat on her own. She was tapping the foot of a glass full of white wine with one hand and scrolling through something on her phone with the other. As he approached her his shadow fell on the table and she looked up and gave him a startled smile.
“I got you some wine,” he said with an embarrassed smile.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” she said. “I’m driving, so one’s enough.”
“Yes... may I?”
She moved her bag and he sat down opposite her. The window behind gave an impressive view of the downs rolling away to the west, coloured amber in the low winter sun.
“You look exhausted,” she said, taking a slow sip of her wine.
He was halfway through a sip of his own when she said it, and it occurred to him that this was the second time in two days she had told him he looked tired. It felt good that she was expressing concern for him, but on the other hand he made a mental note to get more sleep. He knew from the press reports of the Ferryman murders that she was several years younger than he was, but he looked much older than that, and it wasn’t doing his ego any favours.
“It’s just been a tough few days, preparing to go back to work and then finding the body up in the woods. Not a great start to a new life that was supposed to be less stressful.”
He lowered his pint glass and set it on the little cardboard coaster. He noticed that Sophie was smiling. “What’s so funny?”
“Just the way you’re so precise.”
“Eh?”
“The way you put the beer glass down, exactly in the centre of the mat like that.”
He paused a beat, unsure how to reply, and then changed the subject. “About the consultant work you offered to do.”
“I thought you said your boss said no?”
“He did, but I want you on the case.” He lifted the beer to his lips.
“But I thought you said if Kent said no then it’s a no?”
The shadow of a smile appeared on his lips, but he suppressed it and pretended to be absorbed in his beer. “Did I?”
“Yes, you did. We were by the fire in your watermill at the time. I remember it well.”
Behind them, he heard the pub fire crackling and spitting. “That’s nice.”
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
She looked like she might be fighting an urge to slap him. “Is a no a no?”
“No.”
“Jacob!”
“I overruled him, so you’re on the case.”
Her protest was already on her lips when she realised he had agreed to her request to work on the case. She watched him looking back at her, and it occurred to her she should probably give some kind of response, or even show some gratitude. Instead, she said, “But what about Kent?”
“He’s my problem, not yours.”
“Won’t you get into trouble if he finds out you’ve gone behind his back? I don’t want to be responsible for you getting suspended or something.”
“Listen,” he said, “I’m running this case, and I’m making the decision to bring you into it. You know your stuff, and after the Ferryman murders you need a new chance. Leave Marcus Kent to me.”
She looked at him, sitting in front of her with his hands around the beer glass as the wind beat at the windows. A rare break in the clouds allowed a shaft of sunlight to shine through the window and dance on the vintage copper table. It flashed on the empty flower vase and then the clouds swallowed it back up, once again leaving only the small table lamp to light the moment. “Thank you, Jacob. I mean it.”
“Forget about it. It looks like we could help each other, so let’s just get on with it.”
“I’m presuming the second murder made you call me?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re thinking this all has something to do with the occult?”
“Maybe, that’s why I wanted to speak with you. I know you dealt with some occult murders in America and I know Keeley dabbled in that neck of the woods, too.”
“The case in Illinois was fairly straight-forward occult, but Keeley was more Greek underworld mythology, but there are similarities, yes.”
“If you ask me it’s all a load of crap.”
“But the woods do have a strong legend about the witches’ murders.”
“It only shows us that a real historical event that occurred, but that doesn’t mean we should be inferring anything with reference to this case.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“You’re a shrink, of course you’re not sure.”
She stopped drinking halfway though a sip and turned to him, half a smile on her face. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re trained to look at things a certain way.”
“So are you.”
“Yes, but a very a different way.”
“So you don’t think it could be relevant?” she asked.
He paused and finished the last of his beer before blowing out a slow, uncertain breath. “That’s why I want you here. It’s why I want you on the team. If these really are occult murders then I think we need your experience.”
“And I can help, I know I can. For a start, I just think it’s too much of a coincidence,” she said. “An area of ancient woodland containing the bodies of four women murdered for being witches, and now another body turns up in the same place.”
“But not from the same era. The witches were murdered nearly three hundred years ago. Emma was murdered less than thirty years ago and Kieran Messenger was killed this morning.”
“Still, something about it’s not right. I don’t like it when I can’t see a pattern, and these things bother me.”
Jacob finished his beer and set the glass on the table. He had read her CV online and knew better than to doubt either her professional judgement or her instinct.
“How do you want to proceed?” he asked her.
She answered without hesitation. “If I could see anything from the original case files, like notes or better still interview videos and so on, that would be really helpful.”
Jacob knew handing a civilian information like this was a line he couldn’t uncross, but he’d already made the decision to trust her. “I can email over some of the scanned documents this afternoon, but the CDs will have to wait. Can I bring them over to your place tonight?”
“Sure – that would be a great start.”
After a pause, he said, “You’ve gone very quiet.”
“Sorry,” she said quietly. “I’m just thinking about those witches in the woods.”
*
“I’ve ordered a full investigation into the death of Kieran.”
Jacob spoke firmly but quietly, desperately aware of Lorna Messenger’s fragile and shocked state. “It’s early days, but at this time we think his murder may have been drug-related.”
Lorna Messenger looked at him, her red eyes confused and angry. “Drugs? Kieran ain’t taken no drugs for bloody years. What makes you think that?”
“I can’t go into specifics at this stage, Mrs Messenger, but we found traces of fentanyl in his pickup truck.”
She looked up with shock etched deeply on her face. She looked much older than her age as she ran her hands over her pregnant stomach. “No way, not my Kieran.”
“As I say, its early days and we’ll do everything we can to make sure we find out what happened and to bring whoever was responsible for this terrible crime to justice.”
She snorted dismissively. “Yeah, right.”
Jacob understood her reaction. “Does he have any other family?”
She shook her head. “At least not worth knowing, no… His father left home when he was a baby and he walked out on his mother as soon as he was sixteen. She took up with a bloke who used to knock him around when was drunk, which was most of the time. He ain’t spoken to her for years.”
Jacob nodded. “I understand.”
“So it’s just me.”
Jacob watched as she reached out for the tissues with a trembling hand. He doubted she had much faith in the police to find her husband’s killer. “As I say, we’re already actively investigating his death and as soon as I have any news I will bring it to you personally.”
Out of nowhere, she gathered to courage to ask what was on everyone’s mind. “Has it got anything to do with the girl they found up there a couple of days ago?”
He knew this question would come. “At the moment, given the very long period of time between the two murders I’m not happy to say there’s a direct link, but it’s something we’re discussing as the investigation goes forward.”
“They’re talking about bloody witches in the papers. It’s not that, is it?”
“Well…”
“I hate all that occult rubbish, witchcraft, druids. Kieran thought it was a load of crap as well. He worked in those woods morning, noon and night and he never heard or saw nothing but the birds.”
