The Killing Year (The Craig Crime Series Book 17) Page 21

  Craig was just heading for the Divis Street junction when the phone in his pocket rang. He nodded Annette to place it on speakerphone, immediately attentive when Davy’s tone hinted at good news.

  “What have you got?”

  At the other end of the line the analyst rolled his eyes. Just occasionally he’d like someone to say ‘hello, Davy, lovely to hear from you’ and be pleased to hear from him for himself and not his information. Even as he thought it Davy knew that was a lie; in his boy’s-own heart he relished being the holder of the secrets, it was the closest that he would ever get to being a spy.

  “The DNA on Judith Roper’s forehead got a hit.”

  Craig’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. DNA was usually only held on criminals and even then not for long, and all of their victims to date had been squeaky clean. Which didn’t of course mean that the owner of the unknown DNA had to be, but still…

  Davy was still talking.

  “It took a lot of digging I can tell you-”

  “I’ll give you a pat on the back later on.”

  It earned Craig a chastising glance from Annette, and a soothing “Davy, you’re a marvel” that made him feel ashamed. He blustered out a “Yes. Well done” and then waited to hear the news.

  That was all Davy had needed; the image of Annette telling the chief off on his behalf was enough to brighten up his day.

  “The DNA wasn’t on a criminal database, it was on a medical one. A kidney donor register. S…Sarah Amanda Reilly-”

  Craig’s gasp cut across him. “That’s a name from the missing persons’ list! She’s a doctor. When Ash told me her name I had a feeling she could be one of our Vics.”

  He turned south again, raking up through the gears while still talking.

  “Get Ash to text me her surgery address and whoever reported her gone. He can update you on whatever he’s found on her last movements.” He remembered to add a “Thanks” and nodded Annette to cut the call.

  “Check where Liam is, Annette, and then update John on what we’ve got. He might know Reilly as they’re both doctors. As soon as Ash sends you the surgery address punch it in to the GPS.”

  Just then Ash’s text came through and the DI typed in the address as she asked.

  “We’re going there right now?”

  Craig nodded. There were enough people gathering information on their dead victims, time to get some on one that might still be alive.

  ****

  Strangford Lough.

  It was hard, no, more than hard, it was harrowing. The first glimpse of the bleached wooden beach hut, and then demonstrating to her detective escort the performance that had ended with her being invited inside, her life saved by an elderly woman searching for a lost time in her life. But what followed next was even more difficult, as Sarah stepped gingerly away from the safety of the small building, the presence of the man beside her as reassuring as it could be but still not enough to assuage her fear.

  It was a fear that grew with each step, each check against the horizon for direction, the textures underfoot forcing her to recall her hours of cold and pain. She paused frequently, possibly too frequently for the needs of her escort, but to his credit Hendron didn’t display impatience or urge her on, simply stood sentinel at each stop for as long as she needed him to, and then guarded her impassively when she restarted on her way.

  The journey had twists and turns, over grass and sand and mud, and now and then the medic glanced down at her bandaged hands, picturing the abrasions beneath the dressings and remembering the stumbling and falls that had given her the wounds. Part of her hoped that there was some scar left, a badge to mark just how badly she’d wanted and fought to survive. Perhaps she wanted it to show to others, to convince them that she wasn’t lying, or more likely to convince herself that she hadn’t gone mad and simply made the whole thing up.

  She shook her head vehemently at the thoughts, making her watcher frown in concern. Ryan Hendron had witnessed such behaviour before in victims, reliving each moment of their ordeal and at the same time questioning themselves whether it was true. It prompted him to do something out of his professional character, although fully within his character as a man. He reached out a large, warm hand and grasped Sarah Reilly’s nearest one, gripping it tightly and staring hard into her eyes.

  “This happened to you.”

  That was all he said, but it was all that it took to shake her out of her fog. As she nodded gratefully he released his grip, both of them walking on with renewed hope.

  It took her more time to find the pit than Hendron had imagined, but what he saw there made him even more admiring of the woman by his side. That she’d managed to haul herself out of such a deep hole with her two thin arms, and then crawled and struggled, frozen and hungry, for five miles to reach the hut was more than most people could have done.

  He stood as close to the edge of the trench as possible and stared into its water filled depths, its seven feet of sheer clay walls telling him that even some men would have struggled to get out.

  Sarah Reilly read his mind.

  “I waited until the rain had filled it enough to paddle up, then I pulled myself over the top.”

  Clever woman. Hendron turned to scan their surroundings as she continued.

  “I yelled so hard, but no-one heard me. Now I know why.”

  They were in the middle of marshland that had been abandoned for years.

  Suddenly Hendron hunkered down, peering closely at the soil on the pit’s shortest edge. There was no doubt about it, there was a shoeprint in the clay. He ushered the GP back from the pit, readying himself in case she collapsed at his next words.

  “There’s a man’s shoeprint at the edge of the trench, and I think I can see a few further back.”

  She surprised him by nodding, relieved. “So, you believe me about the man.”

  Hendron’s eyes widened in shock. “I always believed you.”

  “What are you saying then? You think the footprints might help to catch him?”

  “Yes, that, and I’ll call in forensics, but…”

  “Yes?”

  “Even though it’s cold today it’s also sunny, yet the prints haven’t dried up at all…”

  He saw her incomprehension and forced himself on.

  “I…I think those prints were only made within the last few hours.”

  The medic’s sudden understanding made her struggle to breathe. Her killer hadn’t been looking for her because he hadn’t returned for days! He’d abandoned her knowing, or not caring, that exposure would kill her!

  Another query formed slowly in her mind. But if he’d expected her to die then why bother to come back at all?

  She gasped out a question, not sure she wanted to hear the detective’s reply.

  “The other victims you mentioned…what happened to their bodies?”

  There was no point obfuscating and Hendron knew it.

  “He arranged them in some sort of macabre display.”

  That was why her captor had finally returned, and that was to have been her fate as well.

  ****

  Fir Trees Surgery. Newtownards.

  Liam gazed around him distastefully; he hated doctors’ surgeries and hospitals, in fact he hated anywhere that someone might give him bad news. The odd time that he did go to the GP’s, and only then when Danni had nagged him to death for weeks, they inevitably wanted to stick needles or fingers somewhere that they shouldn’t, and he could think of far nicer ways to spend his day.

  He’d taken up position by the health information leaflets ten minutes earlier, waiting for Craig and Annette to appear. Finally, they did, emerging from an inner office and shaking hands with a man and a woman, whose intense gaze made Liam wonder if she had x-ray vision and had spotted something wrong with his insides.

  His paranoia was interrupted by Craig strolling across to him, adding by way of explanation, “Senior partner and practice manager. They couldn’t tell us anything new.”

>   Annette glanced behind Liam and lifted a leaflet, pushing it into his hand. “Don’t be shy. We all know that’s why you’re standing here.”

  Craig caught a blush as Liam read the heading ‘STDs’, and a few seconds later the paper was potted hastily into the bin.

  “Right, let’s get out of here, everyone. We can get your update over a late lunch, Liam. The practice manager says there’s a greasy spoon just down the street. Is that OK for everyone?”

  By everyone he meant Annette, who was on a health kick. Liam had never avoided a greasy spoon in his life.

  Ten minutes, two Ulster Fries and a salad sandwich later, it was time for coffee and debrief.

  “OK, Liam, update us.”

  Liam milked his drink and began. “Right, well, I met with Jake-”

  Annette cut across him. “How is he?”

  “Grand. Enjoying the work, except the paperwork, but I think he secretly misses the team.”

  Craig was surprised; Jake had requested his transfer.

  “Did he say that?”

  “Didn’t need to. It was written all over his face.”

  Annette perked up. She was fond of Jake and still hoped that he might come back to the squad someday.

  Liam continued.

  “Aye, well, he gave me some useful stuff. It turns out Maria Drake was still married when she met her girlfriend, and so was the girlfriend herself. Well, not married, but in a civil partnership.”

  Annette made a face. She didn’t like home-wreckers.

  “They broke up two relationships? That can’t have been popular.”

  “That’s what I thought, so I met with Drake’s girlfriend, Bryony Leyton.”

  Craig’s ears pricked up until Liam shook his head.

  “Cool your jets, boss. There was nothing there but love. I met Leyton’s ex Jess Bingham as well, and they still get on fine, so I think we’ve hit a dead end.”

  Not quite yet. Craig asked the obvious question.

  “Drake’s husband?”

  Liam shook his head. “I’ve just come from there and I’ve never met a less bothered bloke. He said his wife leaving gave him more space for his model railways.” His face brightened. “You should have seen the place! It was wall to wall Hornby.”

  Annette shook her head. She’d never understood the appeal of toy trains. “He sounds like a complete anorak.”

  Craig pushed past Liam’s offended look to make a point. “You know they could all be lying.”

  “I do, although Drake had an alibi for his wife’s abduction. He was at a train exhibition in Dublin. He kept the ticket and all.”

  Craig wasn’t convinced.

  “Who would be top of your lying list?”

  “Rowan Drake then Jess Bingham.”

  “Not Leyton?”

  Liam shook his head empathically. “Nope. She’s not the one. She and Maria Drake had something good going and she wouldn’t have messed it up. I only had a quick go at Rowan Drake today, so I can have another try there if you like.” He shook his head. “He’s got to be the most non-descript bloke I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a few. Cardigan wearing, speccy…you get the picture. I’m not surprised his wife took a hike. The other thing they mentioned at Maria Drake’s office was that a couple of families had made threats against her after she had their kids taken into care.”

  Annette scoffed. “I think I might as well.”

  Craig nodded. “Follow all those up, Liam. OK, you’ll be pleased to know that we’ve been busy too.”

  Liam shook his head. “Sorry, boss, I hadn’t finished. I heard from Johnnie McCausland, Judith Roper’s snout. He’s alive and kicking and said Hugh Bellner hasn’t a clue he was selling him out. That means Bellner couldn’t have killed Judith Roper.”

  “We think. Pay Bellner a visit and check. Annette, update Liam, please.”

  He ordered more drinks as she updated the DCI on the factory flooring and Sarah Reilly’s DNA hit, then Craig’s mobile rang and Jack Harris’ voice came on the line.

  “Hello, Jack. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, you can get yourself down here for a start. I’ve just had a walk-in I think you’ll want to meet. Your analysts said he’s on your missing persons’ list.”

  Craig’s eyes widened, making others pay attention. “Name?”

  “Daniel Torrance. Brought in by a car from Antrim. He hasn’t said much but he looks like he’s been assaulted. He’s filthy dirty, but I didn’t want to clean him up in case we lost evidence, so he’s in one of my cells now having something to eat.”

  Craig jumped to his feet. “We’ll be there in ten. Get him checked over by the medical officer and have a CSI come down. We’ll need every scrap of evidence he can give us.”

  He’d hung up before the sergeant could reply and was paying the bill before Liam and Annette were on their feet.

  “Where are we going, sir?”

  Craig’s response was to hand Annette his keys.

  “You take my car back to the ranch. There’s a lot to get on with. Tell Nicky that Liam and I will be at High Street if anything comes up. If I’m right, then someone who was almost our next victim has just walked in off the street.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Shit, shit, shit! How the hell had the bitch escaped?

  He knew the gears that he was raking weren’t going to give him an answer and neither had the idiots at his work, their sarcastic expressions when he’d entered saying ‘nice of you to appear’, with only his seniority preventing the words from actually reaching the air.

  He’d stayed for just long enough to organise his secretary and give her enough work for the rest of the day, then he was back into his car and home to eat, change and collect whatever he needed to finish Torrance off. He’d originally intended the GP and the sponsor to be his heir and spare, now Torrance would have to be elevated to pole position in his masterpiece, to ensure that his message would still get across. There was no relief afforded by the thought, just chagrin that the woman had escaped. It changed to panic as he accelerated through the miles and on to the motorway north.

  What did Reilly know about him? A concerted effort to calm himself slowed and clarified his thoughts. The GP had never seen his face, hell, she’d never even heard his real voice; the most that she could say about him was that he was probably a man.

  His panic soared again as he recalled phoning the surgery to arrange the home visit, but even then, he’d used a throwaway phone bought with cash and covered the handset as he’d talked. In the unlikely event that the cops located the shop that the phone had been bought from, he doubted that such a grubby out-of-the-way kiosk would have had CCTV, or that the police could ID him through the disguise that he’d worn if it had.

  He gave a nod in tribute to his own cleverness, it would be enough to keep him out of jail, and as he raced on to the beautiful Glens of Antrim to end Dan Torrance’s life, the man allowed himself a smile.

  ****

  The Labs. 3 p.m.

  Des had finished up at the factory and arrived back at the labs just in time to see John walking in.

  “Half day, John?”

  It was the standard jibe at anyone arriving late, but it didn’t apply as John had been at work since early that morning and had just nipped out to pump up a slow puncture in one of his tyres. He let the dig pass and held open the door for the scientist.

  “Where are you coming from?”

  “The factory where Marc found the pattern on our victim’s back. I’ll tell you about it at the briefing.”

  “Ah, good, if you’re going you can give me a lift down.”

  Des stopped in his tracks suddenly, making John wonder if the answer to his request was going to be no. He was only half-surprised when the next word out of the forensic expert’s mouth was, “Grace.”

  John decided that a wind-up was in order. It had been a slow day. “What about Grace?”

  An impatient flash crossed Des’ face. “You spoke to her.”

 
John thought for a moment too long and then responded, “And?”

  It was baiting the bear and Des’ increasing volume told him as much.

  “Damn it, John! What was said? Why did you say she’d be fine with me now?”

  The pathologist poked the bear harder with a lengthy “Mmmm…” that made Des’ face turn an interesting shade of plum. After a moment in which he simultaneously felt pity for his friend and fear for his own safety, John finally relented and said, “Yes, I spoke to Grace, and she seemed to take the whole thing well.”

  Des’ voice rose in pitch.

  “Seemed?”

  “OK, then, she did take it well. Although…”

  The word had been designed to create panic and it worked.

  “WHAT? She’s going to make a complaint against me, isn’t she? She’s going to take me through the courts!” The scientist’s eyes grew wild. “I’m going to lose my job! We’ll be out in the street. Two children and no income-”

  John realised that it was time to be straight. “Calm down, for Heaven’s sake! She’s not going to complain.”

  “How do you know? She could have been pret-”

  John’s next words were much louder than he’d intended them to be. “SHE PITIES YOU!”

  Des’ bearded face fell, and the pathologist watched as first astonishment, then horror, and finally fury raced across it, the last emotion directed at him.

  “What did you tell her?”

  They had been standing outside pathology and now John began a slow retreat.

  “John…”

  “Nothing really, honestly…”

  Des stepped forward, keeping pace.

  “You must have told her something, to make her PITY me.” The word came spitting out.

  John kept reversing until the pathology double doors were almost within reach, although why he thought they would deter Des following only he would know.