The Slowest Cut (23 page)

Liam scratched his chin. “The waitress at The Red Kite was sure they were a romantic couple.”

“Are you s…sure?”

Liam nodded. “Positive. I’ll come back to that in a minute. So hang-on, we’re really saying that the younger son, Jonathan, and his half-sister, whatever her name is, are on a killing spree? And so far they’ve taken out the father, the step-mother, Rooney and now Gerry Warner’s probably next, but the older brother Ryan knew nothing about it?”

Craig nodded. “Says he knew nothing… Yes, that’s about it, Liam. But it’s worse than that. The video of the young boy and girl...”

“The video that I thankfully didn’t see.”

“Yes. It was shot in the boiler room at the Marcheson’s school in Bangor, so the likelihood is that any abuse that was going on there...”

Liam finished Craig’s sentence. “Kept going at the house in Newcastle. With the same kids?”

Craig shook his head. “Kept going yes, but it’s unlikely that the same children were involved. Once the school closed their parents would have taken them home.”

Annette leaned in. “Except for the girl and Jonathan Carragher, sir. If Ian Carragher was their father then they had nowhere else to go.”

“Perhaps, Annette, but I’m not so sure. We need to find out when the Chinese girl appeared on the BDSM scene. If it was after the school closed in 2004 then she can’t have been locked up in the Newcastle basement.”

Liam jumped in. “Here, boss, the waitress said she heard Jonathan Carragher call the girl Miss Whiplash once. She thought he was joking, but maybe not, if she was into the BDSM scene.”

Craig nodded. It fitted.

Jake leaned forward, cutting in. “If the girl escaped, sir, it would have to have been before the Carraghers moved to Newcastle.” He shook his head, picturing the dungeons they’d found. “There was no way anyone could have escaped from there.”

“OK then, let’s speculate a bit. Let’s say that the girl escaped during the Bangor school’s closure, and ended up on the BDSM scene around Northern Ireland when she was still a child.”

Annette shuddered. “She was a baby. She would only have been nine-years-old when the school closed.”

“She grew up fast, Annette. From Liam’s Miss Whiplash comment and Warner’s reaction, I’d say she became a successful dominatrix too. Warner was terrified when we mentioned a Chinese woman and he wouldn’t have responded that way if he’d only known her as an abused child. Then somehow the girl met Jonathan Carragher again and they teamed up; maybe as partners or maybe even as lovers, if the waitress at The Red Kite is correct.”

“But that’s incest!”

Craig smiled at Annette’s surprise. “Well, first, they mightn’t know that they have the same father. I don’t think Ian Carragher advertised that the fact he’d fathered an illegitimate daughter, judging by Ryan’s lack of recognition of her photograph. And second, even if they do know, compared to the things they’ve been made to do in their young lives, incest is pretty small beer.”

Davy shook his head. “I don’t think they do know they’re s…siblings, chief.”

Craig turned towards him, curious. Davy’s tone of voice said he knew something that they didn’t.

“What have you found out?”

“It’s probably nothing, but before I left last night I ran an experiment. I asked D.C.I. Hughes for the video and I managed to get one clear image of the boy.”

“How? He never turned towards the camera.”

Davy gave a thin smile. “He was reflected in an old panel of glass leaning against the boiler room w…wall. I captured the image and inverted it, then aged it up and got this.” He passed round sheets of paper printed with two photographs. “The first is Jonathan Carragher’s s…student card; the other is the aged-up image of the boy in the video.”

Craig stared at the images for a moment then shook his head in despair. They were the same boy. Ian Carragher had used his own son to beat his daughter with Tian Liu half to death, just to give his friends a thrill. His only concession to Jonathan’s anonymity was that he’d been filmed from the back.

Annette said what they were all thinking. “Animals! They all deserved to die. To do that to any child is bad enough, but to do it to your own children…It’s inhuman.”

No-one else said a word, their expressions ranging from fury to complete incomprehension. The silence was broken by a click from Nicky’s percolator. She’d been too far away to hear what was being said and she shouted cheerfully across the floor.

“Fresh coffee anyone?”

It was the prompt that Craig needed to break the mood. “Yes, please.”

When Nicky handed Craig a plate of biscuits it opened the barn door again for Liam to stomp through.

“Here! Where’s my biscuit, then?”

Nicky sniffed and turned on her heel. “Still in the packet.”

“Here, boss, that’s favouritism. I’m reporting that to the Equality Commission.”

Craig smiled and held out the plate. “Have a Rich Tea and shut up, Liam. We have a lot of work to do.”

***

2 p.m.

Liam was back on the road to Newcastle, grinding his teeth at having to view the scene again, when his car-phone rang; it was Craig.

“What’s up, boss? Give me some good news, for God’s sake.”

“Man United have won the F.A. cup.”

“What? When?”

Craig laughed at his eager reaction. “It’s February, Liam. Unless they’ve moved the fixtures I was joking.”

Liam covered his mistake quickly. “Oh, aye. I knew that. I was just testing you. I mean, what sort of Muppet would think the F.A. Cup was played this time of year?”

“Very funny. Anyway, I was just calling to say that Aidan’s been on the phone.”

“About the Chinese girl?”

“Yes. She didn’t ring a bell with him so he asked around. Seems there was a young Chinese girl, and I mean very young, on the BDSM scene for about seven years between 2004 and 2011. She worked as a dominatrix in the later years and then disappeared.”

“Disappeared, disappeared? Or just took herself off?”

“No one knows. She could be dead or she could be sunning herself in the south of France, but my instinct says that she’s back, spending a rainy February in Belfast with Jonathan Carragher.”

“Aye well, she’ll turn up eventually, I’m sure.”

Liam sighed heavily and Craig knew it had more to do with his destination than the girl. Craig could hear a question forming in the silence.

“Boss…do I really…?”

Craig interrupted him. “The other reason I called was to tell you to come back. Des has been called down to help John with the forensics. Until they’ve finished completely he says he doesn’t want you there. His exact words were; ‘If Liam comes down we’ll end up in the nearest pub and get no work done’.”

Liam’s first instinct was to shout “Result!” but his sense of duty kicked in, so instead he swallowed hard, barely able to believe what he was about to say.

“God knows I don’t ever want to see that place again, boss. But I think one of us should try to speak to the boy we found alive. I’d better keep going.”

“Don’t worry about the boy. I’ve been in touch with the social care team and he’s being brought to Belfast; to the same foster home as Aurelie.”

Liam said something else but it was drowned out by the sound of a lorry racing past, followed by a selection of four letter words. Craig heard Liam’s car indicator clicking and then the sound of his engine grinding to a halt as he parked.

“That’s better, Liam. I couldn’t hear a word you said.”

It wasn’t true but it allowed Liam to erase anything that he’d prefer Craig hadn’t heard.

“Aye, well. What I said was, are you going to let them see each other? Aurelie and the boy?”

“No. Not yet. They need to be interviewed separately otherwise it will weaken our case. Although, at the rate our killers are going, I don’t think there’ll be anyone left alive to charge with their abuse. But we still have to build the case.”

“Has the boy said anything yet?”

“Not a word, apparently. We don’t even know where he’s from. Davy’s working away on a possible I.D. There’s a chance he might be from here, but Davy says he thinks middle or eastern European. He’s dark, so somewhere like Romania or Bulgaria perhaps.”

“Aye, he was very dark. Well, if you’re sure there’s no reason for me to go down, I’ll head back to the ranch. There’s plenty for everyone to do.”

“Actually, no there isn’t, Liam. Davy’s gone home; he’s set his programmes running and they’ll alert his mobile if he needs to come back in. He’s limited in what else he can do because it’s Sunday. There’s no sign of Warner yet, and unless he turns up with some fresh clues there not a lot more we can do today. Annette and Jake have already gone home, so my suggestion is that you do as well.”

“And do what?”

Craig laughed. “Whatever you normally do on a Sunday afternoon. Take the kids to the park; watch a Disney DVD, whatever. Just come in raring to go tomorrow morning. We’re briefing at eight o’clock.”

He stifled a yawn and Liam laughed. “And you’re going home to sleep off that hangover. Pity for the Doc that he can’t do the same.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Monday 2 a.m.

Jonathan had almost finished Warner off, when Mai walked back into the garage and saw what he’d done. Instead of screaming and crying as he’d expected she just gazed down at Warner’s bloodied body.

“Is he dead?”

Jonathan shook his head and pushed his hair back from his face with a gloved hand. “Almost, but you can have the final cut.”

It was safe to allow her close now; Gerry Warner was long past words. He couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.

Mai stared down at the immobile body, her eyes unreadable. But Jonathan knew what was going through her head. She was remembering every time Warner had touched her against her will and every time she’d suffered pain at his hands, either directly or through one of the helpless pawns he’d forced to beat her. He knew what she was thinking because he felt the same way. Warner hadn’t just used him to inflict pain; he’d used him in other ways too.

Mai smiled slowly and turned to her lover, stroking his face gently with her small white hand. Warner had laughed at their tears, now they were the ones laughing. And yet…where was the peace she’d expected to feel, now that their last abuser had gone? The thought of it had kept her going through years of disgust and self-harm, struggling to survive by using the only skill that she’d learned.

Even when Jonathan had re-entered her life she’d felt angry and restless, never able to settle, moving from house to apartment and then back again. In their first year together she’d made him paint the rooms four times, each time certain that it would make everything right, until she saw them finished and knew that they had to be changed again. She’d flitted from room to room and chair to chair, with Jonathan always still, in the centre, like the eye of her storm. She’d start to read and then set the book aside, as she wore herself out searching for something that she couldn’t define and didn’t understand. Peace. She’d never had peace, so how could she possibly know how it felt. The closest she’d ever come was when she was in her lover’s arms.

Mai stared down at Gerry Warner’s unmoving body and lifted the knife. Perhaps when he was dead peace would finally come. She swung her arm down, landing the blade on his neck with certainty, then she drew it across in one smooth sweep as she’d done three times before. Warner gurgled once as the blood spurted upwards, soaking her face and hands, then there was nothing except silence.

Mai watched as the spurting slowed and then stopped, gazing blindly at it until Warner’s pulses ebbed away and only they were left alive. She watched for longer, willing his soul to wander the afterlife in torment and give her some peace as it fled. Jonathan watched her with tears in his eyes, reading her thoughts. No ghost could give Mai the peace that she craved. Her heart ripped open afresh each day, every year of abuse written on it, like a freshly inflicted scar that couldn’t heal. Jonathan held his breath as he watched her, knowing the agony she would suffer, once she realised that killing them still hadn’t bought the tranquillity she’d pursued for years.

He kept on watching, as Mai deferred the inevitable realisation, saying. “Once we’ve displayed him, that’s when it will be over and we can have a normal life.”

They dealt with Warner’s body and loaded it into the van, to be displayed somewhere symbolic, now that they couldn’t access the school. Tomorrow it would be found, and tomorrow Mai would feel her pain again. And again and again forever, with no hope of peace for her broken mind.

Jonathan drove in silence towards Gerry Warner’s final resting place and while Mai gazed eagerly at the road ahead his heart sank. For now she was hopeful, but soon that hope would die and her pain would begin again, then he would have to decide their path. There were only two choices; get Mai the help she needed, or both their deaths.

***

The C.C.U. Monday. 8 a.m.

Nicky lifted the phone before it rang a second time, her smile saying this was going to be a very good day.

“Murder Squad. Can I help you?”

The voice on the other end was familiar, although it normally sounded less flat.

“Hello, Nicky. Is the Super there?”

It was Jack Harris. They used his interview rooms at High Street so often that he usually had a laugh and a joke with Nicky when he called, but not today. Nicky stared at the phone, puzzled, and rang through to Craig. Craig dumped his sports bag in the corner and grabbed the receiver.

“Yes?”

“It’s Sergeant Harris, sir. He doesn’t sound very happy.”

“Put him through. And Nicky…”

“I know. Coffee.”

Craig smiled and answered the call, still expecting to hear Jack Harris’ usually cheerful voice.

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

The sigh that followed said this wasn’t a social call.

“Sorry to start off your day like this, sir, but a body’s been found on my patch.”

Craig tightened his grip on the phone. Gerry Warner. It had to be.

“Where?”

“Aye well, that’s the problem. It couldn’t be any more public. It’s been found in the grounds of the City Hall. There’s chaos up there.”

Belfast City Hall! Craig shook his head for a moment. It didn’t fit. OK, they’d made Fitzwilliam Primary School inaccessible by sealing it off, but another school would have fitted their killers’ message better, and there were hundreds of those around. Craig closed his eyes for a moment in thought. The City Hall symbolised authority and the killers probably felt they’d been let down by every system in the book. Plus it was bound to cause headlines; he could just imagine the Chronicle’s front page later that day.

Craig was silent for so long that Jack thought he’d lost the call.

“Sir? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, sorry, Jack. I was just trying to make sense of it. Is he body recognisable?”

Jack’s voice showed his distaste. “Well, it has a face, but…”

“Where in the City Hall?”

“The courtyard near the back. It’s near where people get married and they’ve ceremonies planned for today.”

Where Ian and Eileen Carragher had got married as well, most likely. Craig understood now. The killers were commenting on the travesty of that marriage, in the only way they knew how.

“OK, Jack. Who’s there now?”

“The body was found by a cleaner at six o’clock. Uniform’s been there since then. It’s cordoned off, but there isn’t a hope in hell of keeping this quiet; there are reporters all over the place already.”

Craig smiled, knowing that Davy’s girlfriend Maggie was probably one of them. Jack was still talking.

“We’re waiting for forensics and the medical examiner, some Dr Augustus. Doc Winter’s off on his travels somewhere.”

“Newcastle. It’s linked with our case, and so is this.”

“Aye, well. That’s what I thought.”

“You were right to call me, Jack. Can you meet me there in ten?”

“Will do.”

Craig clicked the phone off and pulled open his office door, just as Nicky approached with his coffee in her hand.

“Everyone’s ready for the briefing.”

Craig took the coffee gratefully and gulped it down, then headed for the double-doors.

“Sorry, everyone. Briefing’s postponed until twelve. Liam, Annette, come with me. Jake, can you call D.C.I. Hughes and ask him if we can move Edgar Tate’s interview to this afternoon. I want you and Annette to come with me to that.”

Craig and Liam were in the lift so quickly that Annette struggled to keep up.

“Wait for me.”

Liam held the lift doors, shaking his head exaggeratedly from side to side. “That’s those high heels, girl. Get yourself a pair of trainers and you’ll be able to keep up.”

“You shrink a foot and see how much slower it makes you.”

Craig pressed the button for the garage. “Stop the bickering you two, or I’ll stop your pocket money.”

Liam changed tack. “What’s the hurry, boss?”

“A dead body outside the City Hall, and it’s one of ours.”

Annette gawped at him. “Someone killed in the grounds?”

Craig shook his head. “Killed elsewhere and dumped in the grounds more likely. I think it’s our killers but I don’t have any details yet. Jack said the body was recognisable, but…”

Annette gave Craig a puzzled look. “But it’s not a school, sir.”

Liam laughed. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Craig shot Liam a warning look and turned to Annette. “They couldn’t get near the Fitzwilliam School this time, because we have it sealed-off tight. My thoughts are that they left it at the City Hall as two fingers up to authority. It was also left near the Registry Office, where they perform the marriage ceremonies, so it may have been a comment on the Carragher’s marriage. That’s just my speculation at the moment, but either way the press are all over it so we need to get there quickly.”

“I can just see the headlines.”

They all winced, knowing that the press was going to have a field day. They’d managed to keep reporting to a minimum at the school but this was different.

It took five minutes for Craig to drive from Pilot Street and park on the pavement near the Scottish Provident Building at Donegall Square West. As they approached the Hall from the side entrance Liam couldn’t resist a quip.

“Here. The last time there were this many peelers at the City Hall was when they voted the flag down in 2012.”

Annette thumped his arm. “You’ve the tact of a brick. Some people were annoyed about that.”

“Ow! I was only saying.”

Craig flashed his badge at the guard by the entrance and he waved them in. “It’s in the courtyard, sir.”

As they approached the focus of attention Craig could see that something didn’t look right. Even less right than dead bodies normally looked. Instead of the sheet being spread lengthways, to hide a corpse, it was covering a mound with a prominence on top. Craig strode over to the sergeant in charge. The man was sweating and pale beneath his natural tan and Craig had already worked out the cause. Craig extended his hand, introducing himself. The sergeant shook hands firmly, belying his pallor.

“I’m Sergeant Rutter from Stranmillis, sir. They sent me down to assist High Street.” He gestured towards the covered pile. “I have to say, this is a first for me.”

Craig nodded. If it was what he thought it was, it would be a first for all of them, although Liam had seen some sights during The Troubles that were much worse. Rutter waved Craig on to take a look, so he gloved up and tentatively lifted the edge of the sheet, peering underneath.

Staring back at him was the disembodied head of Gerry Warner. The neck was bloodied but the face looked just like the man they’d interviewed a few days before. His eyes were closed as if he was sleeping; he looked far more placid than he deserved. At least he wouldn’t be harming any more children now.

As Craig stared at the head the penny dropped. Of course… He knew that the voice on the porno tape had rung a bell, now he recognised who it belonged to; Gerry Warner. He’d been using children for years, now, if they were right, two of them had taken their revenge.

Craig was jerked back to the present by Liam’s booming voice. “What have you got, boss?”

Craig beckoned him over and lifted the sheet. Liam let out a long whistle.

“Boyso, he must have really pissed them off.”

As Annette joined them Craig dropped the sheet quickly and straightened up.

“I’d like to see, sir.”

“Are you sure, Annette? It’s basically Gerry Warner chopped into bits. The lump at the top is his decapitated head.”

Annette’s eyes widened and she turned on her heel and stood beside the sergeant. “Here is close enough for me.”

“Very wise. Sergeant Rutter, do you know when we can get the remains moved? The press are having a party out there.”

Liam interjected. “Aye, and our old friend Ray Mercer is there, front and centre.”

Mercer was The Belfast Chronicle’s star reporter, not because of the elegance of his writing but for the sensationalist trash he spewed out. It wasn’t art but it did guarantee them readers.

Craig frowned. “Where is he?”

“Over by the front gate, boss. Never you worry; if he puts one foot on the grass I’ll have him.”

“Stay away from him, Liam. Remember what happened the last time you two met at close quarters.”

Liam thought back to the encounter and smiled, then checked himself as he caught Craig’s warning glance.

“Aye, all right. God, there’s no fun in life anymore.”

Just then the small, slim shape of Mike Augustus walked towards them, accompanied by a flock of white-suited C.S.I.s. Des Marsham dandered in behind them at a leisurely pace. Craig grinned when he saw Des coming. His beard was halfway down his chest these days and there were flecks of white amongst the black that he hadn’t noticed before. In a few more years he’d make a brilliant Santa Claus.

Des smiled pleasantly at Annette and nodded at Craig. Liam cracked the first joke.

“Here, Des, Movember’s over. Can you not afford a razor?”

Des grinned and stroked his beard. “Now, Liam, there’s no need to be jealous, just because I’m a real man.” He patted Liam’s smooth cheek. “Worse than a teenage boy.”

Craig laughed and interrupted. “Nice to see you again, Des. I thought you were down in the Mournes with John.”

“I came back last night. Annie gave me my orders. What have we got?”

“I’ve made the I.D. already, but do the usual stuff.”

“How did you I.D. him? I heard he was in bits.”

“His head’s intact and we interviewed him last week. His name’s Dr Gerry Warner. He’s a suspect in our case.”

“Was a suspect.”

“True. Listen; when you’ve done your thing can you just confirm the type of knife for me. If there are any prints so much the better, but I’m pretty sure we know who it was.”

Des arched an eyebrow curiously.

“I’ll tell you when I’m sure, Des.” Craig stopped suddenly and thought again. “Actually, I have a better idea. When’s John expected back from Newcastle?”

“After lunch. He’s done what he can down there. They’re shipping any remains they’ve found up to the lab for a closer look.”

“Good, then how do you both fancy coming to a briefing this afternoon around four?”