The Teacher: A shocking and compelling new crime thriller – NOT for the faint-hearted! (13 page)

The Cat

Adrian and Grey waded through old police files trying to find any cases similar to the murder of Kevin Hart. Adrian still couldn’t shake the feeling he had seen something like that before. Something about the murder screamed ritual to him and not just common or garden patricide, something bigger.

Morris opened the door to his office with a big grin on his face.

‘Pathologist’s report confirms the knife we found in Ryan’s flat was the knife used to kill his father.’ He walked out into the centre of the incident room. ‘Excellent work, boys! The most gruesome murder this side of London for decades and it’s taken us less than a fortnight to nail the suspect. Daniels, I need you to set up a press conference, I’ve dodged as many calls as I can get away with. We’ll make an announcement, keep everyone on high alert for Ryan Hart, get some photos out there; people like to put a face to a criminal, makes them feel safer. Now we just have to find the bastard. Any leads on where he is?’

‘Excellent work, boys,’ Grey said, quietly mimicking Morris for Adrian’s ears only; he smiled.

‘Let me question the sister, sir!’ Adrian called out over the self-congratulatory hum that encompassed the room.

‘No good. Daniels already interviewed her, she’s got no idea; says she never wants to see her brother again.’

‘I don’t buy it, sir.’

‘Look, whatever your beef with Ryan is, I will not have you harassing the rest of the Hart family, they are distressed enough already. We might make it through this without another media clusterfuck if you can just sit on your hands until we bring Ryan Hart in again. His sister doesn’t know anything. No. You and Grey stay here and wait on the phones.’

‘Sir?’

‘You can help the guys by going through all Ryan’s old case files again, see if there’s anyone we missed before, any locations that jump out at you.’

‘There isn’t, we’ve looked. All his usual hangouts have been triple checked.’ Grey’s eyes rolled and she slumped back in her chair, Adrian could sense the reprimand about to fall.

‘Look harder, Grey.’ Morris stared her straight in the eye. ‘A fresh pair of eyes might help. And for God’s sake, neither of you speak to any reporters.’

Grey grunted and put her hand on the stack of files of everyone who ever had been known to associate with Ryan Hart.

‘I can find him!’ Adrian implored.

‘Then find him.’ Morris leaned closer. ‘From here! Let Daniels know if you find any solid leads and he can follow them through. Officially though, you two are off the clock. The last thing I need is you going off the bloody reservation again, Miles. We need this to be clean. You have history with Hart and his lawyers will use that against us if it ever gets to court. You know that.’

Adrian pulled his chair round next to Grey’s and waited for the DCI to disappear back into his hole before picking a file off Grey’s desk.

‘You’re right, Miley, there’s no one in those files you didn’t question, right down to his bloody primary school teachers, remind me never to piss you off.’

‘I’m still not convinced it’s Ryan.’ Adrian sighed. ‘And I really want it to be him!’

‘Evidence doesn’t lie.’

‘Too much evidence, he’s never been this careless before. The body is directly connected to him. He didn’t get to where he is by being stupid. Everyone who spent more than five minutes with him knew he hated his father. I could buy it if Kevin Hart had just disappeared, but the way that happened, that wasn’t Ryan’s MO. He’s never cut anyone up before. You don’t think this is all a little convenient? We need to speak to that pathologist again.’

‘We can’t leave the building,’ Grey whispered.

‘You always play by the rules?’

‘Lately, yes.’

‘One of these days you’re going to tell me what you did down there to get in the shit.’ Adrian stood up and put his jacket on.

‘I’m surprised you haven’t googled me already. There were a few less than flattering reports speculating on the reason for my transfer. Needless to say, they made me look completely incompetent.’

‘I figure you will tell me when you’re ready.’ He grabbed his car keys and looked over to the DCI’s office, he was on the phone, turned away. ‘I’ll catch you later, Grey.’

Adrian walked towards his car, he thought she probably needed a wash at some point, the sunlight emphasised how neglected she had been. He remembered how he used to pay Tom a fiver to clean her with a bucket outside the house on summer days when he was younger. Washing the car together had always felt natural, unforced. Tom would let his guard down and talk about school or anything else that was on his mind, and Adrian would feel like they were connecting. It had been a long time since they had done that together. Adrian pulled out his phone and dialled Tom, it rang for a few moments, Adrian waited for the answer phone to kick in; he wasn’t expecting him to answer anyway.

‘Hi, Dad, what is it?’ Tom answered, he was out of breath; walking fast from the sounds of it.

‘I just wanted to know if you were coming over at all this weekend? I miss you. Be nice to see you before you go back to school.’

‘I don’t know, Mum and Dom are looking at booking a break in Lisbon, Dom’s going to take me surfing.’

‘Oh, OK. What about tonight? We can melee.’ If all else fails, Adrian had the games console to fall back on.

‘Maybe, I’ve got band practice now, I’m just about to get on the bus. I’ll ask Mum and let you know.’

‘Sure … listen, if you need a lift anywhere you know you can just ask?’Adrian said, but there was no response, he looked at the screen; call ended. He put the phone back in his pocket and got into his Granada.

As Adrian turned on the engine the car door opened and Grey got in.

‘Sod it, let’s do this.’ She shrugged, scooping her hair up in a ponytail, ready for business. ‘Called the hospital, Doc’s not rostered on this afternoon. He lives over at East Hill.’

They knocked on the door of the large white stucco minimalist home. The car was parked in the driveway and music blared from inside the house. There was no answer at the door so Grey walked to the side and kicked open the gate.

‘What are you doing? We don’t have a warrant. You can’t do that!’

‘Now who’s playing by the rules? In for a penny …’ She smiled and disappeared from view.

‘Hold up!’ Adrian followed Grey to the side of the house, the window was open and the bin had been knocked over, Grey was pressed against the wall, chest heaving, moving in a slow sideways step, she had her stun gun ready. Adrian could also sense something was off. As the music reached a crescendo the hair on the back of his neck stood up. She pointed to what was obviously the doctor’s cat walking towards them, its white paws a deep red, the fur around its mouth dreaded together and glistening with a burgundy gelatinous liquid. The white wall of the building came to an end within the next three feet and was followed by the glass windows of the conservatory; they would no longer have the safety of the house to hide behind. He knew whatever was in that glass room was going to be horrible.

Grey stopped. Adrian put his hand on her shoulder, she looked nervous, her breathing short and shallow, he wasn’t sure if she was having some kind of panic attack, she looked so pale. He had not seen this side of her before. Until now he thought nothing fazed her. He nodded to indicate they should switch places. She let him.

Adrian took a deep breath before turning his head round the edge of the wall to see what was inside the conservatory, see if the coast was clear. He immediately recoiled and threw his head back against the wall unsure whether to gasp for air or throw up.

‘You need to call for backup,’ he managed to squeeze out between wheezes. ‘He’s dead.’

‘What?’

He stepped out and turned to face the inside of the conservatory, the adrenaline still pumping through him as he looked at the scene again, somehow knowing the danger was gone.

The pathologist was strung up by his hands from the central joist between the conservatory gables. He was naked, shoulders dislocated where his arms had been pulled behind him and hung. A mass of red blood pooled beneath him and a trail of what Adrian assumed were intestines ran from his open stomach to the floor and coiled in a pile at his feet.

‘They’re on their way.’ Grey had her phone out, and by the unimpressed look on her face Adrian could tell she was speaking to Daniels. She came and stood next to Miles, her hand dropping to her side. ‘Holy monkey.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Adrian said, still focusing on the mess on the floor, anything rather than looking at the doctor’s face. He saw the cat’s paw prints leading in and out of the room, the body had clearly been there several hours.

‘This is why I’m never getting a cat, those bastards will eat you alive if you fall asleep on the sofa,’ Grey pondered out loud with a grimace on her face. ‘I’m guessing Ryan thought he could get to the doc before the report came out or something.’

‘That doesn’t make any sense. What’s he going to do? Kill the next pathologist too?’

‘Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do.’

‘I lived and breathed this guy’s case for a year, I know everything.’

‘Files don’t always tell the whole story.’ Grey pulled out a cigarette and offered the carton to Adrian, he took one and she lit it for him before lighting her own.

‘This is crazier than Kevin Hart’s crime scene.’

‘Maybe he’s escalating, or having some kind of psychotic break.’ He could tell she was just throwing ideas out there, she was coming round to his way of thinking.

‘I really thought I knew this guy, I don’t get it.’

‘What’s to get? He’s mental. I mean, I didn’t like this doctor guy much at all, he gave me the serious creeps, but Jesus, no one deserves that.’

Adrian heard the police siren approaching and saw Daniels’ unmarked car pull round the corner and into the drive. His phone beeped in his pocket, he took it out and looked at the message, it was Tom; he was at his place. He dragged on the cigarette one last time before stubbing it out and heading to the roadside to greet them. Daniels stepped out of the car.

‘What the hell happened, then? Where’s the body?’ Daniels was annoyed.

‘Out back in the conservatory, it’s all kinds of fucked up,’ Grey offered.

‘What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were both benched?’

‘We weren’t looking for Ryan Hart here, I swear, we just came to discuss the findings with the doctor again. How come you got here so quickly?’ Grey asked.

‘Forensics are on their way.’ Daniels looked at the cigarette in Grey’s hand. ‘I hope you haven’t contaminated my crime scene. What happened to staying at the station?’

‘Only thing we touched was the gate and the front door, didn’t even go inside,’ Grey snapped at Daniels, her disdain for Morris’ lapdog was not something she particularly chose to hide.

‘Like Grey said, we weren’t looking for Hart here, obviously, just had a couple of questions for the doc, don’t get your knickers in a twist.’ Adrian walked over to the car and opened the door. ‘I have to get going, I’ve got Tom tonight. I’ll give you my statement in the morning.’

‘Whatever!’ Daniels said and wandered off round the side of the house.

‘Give me a lift back to the station?’ said Imogen. ‘My car’s there and I might look over those files again anyway.’

‘We don’t get overtime, you know?’ Adrian got in.

The Patient

Imogen stared at the clock; she had twenty-six minutes left. Twenty-six minutes of talking about herself. She was never comfortable doing that at the best of times, it was even harder when someone was taking notes. She would put long meaningful pauses in between her words in order to fill the space, so that fewer words had a chance to come out. The second hand was broken, she was sure, it was taking so damn long to go round.

‘How is it working with your new partner?’

‘OK, he’s OK. A bit of a fuck-up, but I kind of like that.’ She contemplated for a moment before surrendering a verdict, ‘He’s nice enough.’

‘Nice enough? Better than your last partner?’ her therapist asked. He was a much older man, Freudian in appearance, it felt more authentic that way. He foraged through the notes that had been sent through to him from her last therapist.

‘A rabid goat would have been better than my last partner.’ She smiled anxiously, instinctively she started picking at her fingernails, a nervous habit. She was deciding on whether to help him steer the questions to the juicy stuff instead of letting him root around in her file like a pig searching for apples in a trough, with no finesse.

‘Is he still calling you?’

‘I’m ex-directory, so he can’t call my home. He already made me look crazy, maybe that’s all he wanted. I think he’s moved on.’

‘Is he the reason you transferred?’

‘I don’t know what good that did. My boss is already putting me on the sidelines.’ Her boss; she wondered if the old boys’ network extended across the county and the reason she was on the bench had more to do with where she had come from than her current work. Was Morris bad? She knew her old boss was no angel, maybe that’s just the way it was. Maybe she had been wrong about the nobility of the profession. She hadn’t even been given the opportunity to prove herself here.

‘Feeling like a fish out of water?’

‘No. You know how the saying goes … wherever I lay my hat.’ She had sixteen minutes left still, this was usually about the time the questions got really personal, it took a good forty-five minutes to settle into their respective roles of patient and doctor. She looked at her doctor in a different way, he was the same age as most of the victims they had uncovered so far. What if he was one of them? One of who? She still had no idea who could be perpetrating these heinous murders and the explanation was there, on the tip of her tongue, but maybe her mind wasn’t allowing her to come to the conclusions that were practically begging to be discovered.

‘How are you sleeping?’

‘Sleeping? What’s that?’ She smiled.

‘I will give you another prescription, if you think you need it.’

‘It’s OK, Doc, I am happy to just stay up all night, I’ll start rattling if I take any more meds.’ She didn’t trust him.

‘What about the panic attacks? Are they still occurring?’

‘Not as much.’ She felt like such a failure even talking about it so she tried to downplay it, as always, acting like it didn’t bother her; but if it hadn’t bothered her she never would have continued with the therapy after the mandated time period had expired.

‘Why do you think that is?’ he asked.

‘Not knowing anyone actually helps with that.’

He scribbled in his pad.

‘Do you trust your new partner?’

‘I’m trying to, he hasn’t given me a reason not to.’

‘Did you tell him about the attack?’

‘Not really, not yet.’

Dr Somner wrote something else in his notebook, she knew if she asked him he would tell her what it was but she decided it was better not to know. Coming to therapy had felt like the only option she had as she was crumbling under the weight of her own disquiet since the incident back home. But she was so resistant to it, always trying to avoid talking about the real issues. She would sit there and wonder how long she could drag out the formalities to give him less time to really get inside her head.

‘What about work? I mean, the actual work. Are you coping with it?’ he asked, peering over the top of his glasses.

She hated the word ‘coping’, it made it sound as though she were clinging on for dear life, at the brink of falling into an abyss of mental illness.

‘Yes.’

‘How do you feel you’re getting on here?’

‘It’s a strange and horrible case and the pieces aren’t quite clicking yet. But no, nothing about it is triggering me.’ She hated that word too, the idea that within a fraction of a second she would lose all control and be thrust into insanity, without warning. Clinical words generally upset her; she didn’t like the labels that came with the need to speak openly to a professional. PTSD was something soldiers got, wasn’t it? She just wanted to get some things off her chest, not have it logged down on the record. She had asked him at the very beginning not to diagnose her. She didn’t want a label. She tried to shake the idea that he was fishing for information. Paranoia was only a useful tool when you were in control of it.

‘What about men? Have you been on a date with anyone since you left Plymouth?’

‘That is beyond the scope of our meetings here, Doctor, I thought I made that clear.’

‘How about your mother then, have you seen your mother this week?’ He was writing again, she looked at the pen to see if she could discern the letters and words the movements were forming. She wanted to know what he was writing but she didn’t want to give him the power he would get if she asked. So she stayed silent. It was all about who had the control. She realised that she had to work on allowing herself to be vulnerable, here of all places. She was working on it. He looked up from his pad and jolted her thoughts, pushing for a response. Therapy was mandatory after a serious attack if you wanted to return to service, followed by fortnightly follow-up sessions when you were actually doing your job. Making sure you could handle it. Even though she was worried any sign of weakness in her would be reported back and they would find some way of dismissing her she still elected to stay on after the window had expired.

‘Yes, I go after work sometimes,’ she conceded, not willing to admit how it was more often than that, that her life was that routine, that she had no life of her own. She didn’t want him to know she drove to Plymouth almost every day, then he would ask her why her own life didn’t matter, was she just avoiding it? She knew the answer to that and she didn’t need him to tell her. She didn’t need any of this.

‘That’s a fair distance from here.’

‘I don’t mind the drive, it clears my head.’

‘And how is she?’ He scribbled again.

Now there was a question. How is she? Was there even an answer to that question? There was only one possible answer, it was the answer she always gave to this question; it was a less offensive version of the truth.

‘The same.’

Adrian arrived at home to find Tom sitting on the sofa playing some first-person shooter game, as usual. They grunted their hellos and Adrian sat and watched the video violence in a new light, unable to get the gruesome image of what he had seen earlier from his mind. These things happened to real people, they were probably happening right now, only minus the zombies.

‘Rough day?’

‘Pardon?’ Adrian realised Tom was talking to him.

‘You’re a mess, you’re all spaced out,’ he said with a concerned look on his face.

‘Thanks, I just had a bit of a crap day, that’s all.’

‘You’re not going to lose it again, are you?’ Tom looked away and stared at the screen again. ‘I didn’t tell Mum about it last time because I knew she would make me stop coming over and I like hanging out with you. I’m not a kid, you know.’

‘You are a kid, and that’s OK, there’s nothing wrong with that.’ Adrian tousled Tom’s hair, not sure how else to put him at ease. ‘I don’t want you to have to be grown up and deal with things like … like you had to deal with before … with me. It should never have happened and I’m sorry.’

‘It wasn’t that bad, you don’t need to keep saying sorry for it. I’ve seen Mum drunk before plenty of times. She drinks when … “he’s” away on business.’

‘I know, but … I was pretty tanked up that night. You being there was kind of the wake-up call I needed, though.’

‘So what happened? Today, I mean … why was it so hard?’

‘I saw something really horrible that I wish I hadn’t. I don’t really want to talk about it to be honest, mate, but thanks for asking.’ He pulled a half-hearted smile.

‘It’s OK.’ Tom shrugged and carried on playing the game.

‘I’m just going to grab a shower, when I come back down we’ll play a campaign together.’ Adrian stood up and went upstairs to get clean.

Under the steaming hot water Adrian could feel Peter’s entrails all over him, he hadn’t even touched the body but for the first time he had seen what a person looked like turned inside out with such malice, something he could never un-see. It was messy and chaotic, not like the dispassionate post mortems he had attended in the past. He pulled fresh jeans on after his shower and made his way downstairs, it would be takeaway pizza again tonight. As he descended the stairs he could hear Tom’s laughter, he spent all day with those kids at school and yet the first thing he did when he got in was meet up with them online. He went into the kitchen and made himself an extra-strong coffee, he wanted something stronger but he didn’t like Tom to see him drinking. He would wait until Tom was in bed before cracking open the scotch.

As Adrian approached the lounge he heard another laugh, a deeper laugh, a man.

He knew that laugh.

He pushed the door open a crack and his heart contracted. Ryan Hart was sitting next to Tom on the sofa. In his hands was a controller. They were playing and laughing.

‘Tom, go to your room,’ Adrian said as calmly as he could manage, his heart in his throat, the image of the doctor’s guts still fresh in his mind.

‘Come on, let us finish the game, I’m not done killing him!’ Ryan laughed and winked at Adrian.

‘I’ll give you twenty quid if you go right now, Tom.’ Adrian pulled the note out of his pocket, Tom shot up and grabbed the money before rushing up the stairs. Adrian hated to bribe Tom but he wanted him gone without the battle of wills that usually ensued when he told him to turn the machine off.

‘Detective.’ Ryan smiled and said, ‘Fancy a match?’

‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pick up that phone right now and call this in?’

‘I need your help.’

‘Mine?’

‘I’m in deep shit, Detective.’ Ryan smiled nervously.

‘You’re right about that, why are you here?’

‘I didn’t know where else to go. This is going to make you laugh,’ Ryan laughed, ‘you’re the only person I can trust.’

‘After what you’ve done? You think I’m going to help you?’ Adrian couldn’t believe his ears.

‘You honestly believe I did that to my father? And now this pathologist guy? I saw the news, they are saying that I’m the suspect for that, too! Come on!’

‘Why come to me? I despise you, categorically, and it’s on the record. Have you forgotten I tried to put you away? I almost lost my job trying to put you behind bars.’ Adrian walked to the windows and looked up and down the road before pulling the blinds.

‘Yes, you did, and that’s why I know you’re not bent, I know I can trust you.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You never wondered how I slipped through your fingers before? You had me bang to rights, Detective.’

‘I made some mistakes.’ Adrian remembered the sleepless nights fixated on every single detail of Ryan’s life, the drinking and the pills; the downward spiral and the descent into obsession, compulsion. Adrian hated the way people like Ryan seemed to just get away with infecting others, pushing their poison. Those were the people that made Adrian wish the law was a little less restricted, that gut instinct would be enough, that proof was just a formality. He had known Ryan was bad news for a long time. Their paths had crossed on a handful of occasions over the years, but no matter what happened, he walked. Either someone else would take the fall for him or witnesses would disappear and every charge resulted in ‘no further action’ being taken. It wasn’t long before he became more of a key player and therefore extra careful. Adrian wanted him off the streets, having a teenage son made Adrian even more determined to keep scum like Ryan out of his city.

When Adrian had lost the evidence, he was drunk. He had spent the night before in his car with a bottle of scotch outside Ryan’s house, he could barely remember any details about that day. Adrian was grateful to be taken off the case in the end because he was a mess and he had let everyone down. In his pursuit of Ryan he had turned into the kind of person he hated the most. His father. When they finally suspended him, the world stopped spinning. He hadn’t only lost evidence, he had lost his mind, too.

‘Are you sure?’ Ryan had traded the menacing smirk that usually adorned his face and instead had taken on a less defensive expression.

The coffee wasn’t cutting it any more so Adrian went to the drinks cabinet and poured them both a drink. He was struggling to understand what Ryan was saying. Was he trying to pull another fast one? He handed a glass to Ryan before settling the bottle on the coffee table for ease of access.

‘I’m listening.’

‘I know you think I’m this big badass who kills anyone who gets in my way, and I appreciate that, I really do. It’s good for business.’

‘So what? You’re a boy scout?’

‘Now, I’ve done my fair share of nasty things, I don’t deny, but I swear I have never killed another human being.’

‘Not directly, at least.’ The panic in Adrian had dissipated, he didn’t feel threatened any more. He knew Ryan was telling the truth.

‘My dad was connected, well connected. He knew a lot of people. Important people. You know what it’s like around here. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. The rich stick together and they are all into weird shit.’ He swigged back the drink and took a deep breath. Adrian saw a trace of fear in his face, the kind of fear you have when you’re about to break a promise or spill a secret. This was a side of Ryan he wasn’t used to seeing. ‘I’ll give you credit, Detective, you really did make my life a living hell.’ He poured himself another. ‘My father doesn’t like … didn’t like people sniffing round his business, he told me he would make the charges against me disappear and then a few days later, BAM! I’m off the hook and you’re in deep shit.’