An Unfamiliar Murder (26 page)

She was almost upon them now. “Boomer!” she called. The dog ignored her.
Helen looked at the man and he looked back at her. There was mutual recognition
in their faces.

He got up quickly, towering above her. “Come on, Sam,” he growled, and
made up the bank. Helen scrambled to get the dog on a lead and raced off after
him, trying to reach into her pocket for her mobile phone at the same time.
But, by the time she reached the top of the bank, she could no longer see him.

Her boys rushed over and grabbed Boomer. “Guys can you take
Boomy
back to Granny please,” Helen asked, her eyes darting
back and forwards. “I need to get back to work now.”

“Aren’t you coming home to get changed first?” Robert asked.

Helen was looking about furiously. He couldn’t disappear into thin air,
surely not? And then she caught a glimpse of the tall figure in the distance
with the dog. Jane
Lavery
had joined them now. “Mum,
I need to get back to work
now
,” she
said to her mother wide eyed, “I’ll leave the boys with you.”

“No problem. Come on lads.” And with a quick hug to Robert she moved on
into a quick jog, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. She could see
that he had reached the far end of the park and was waiting to cross the main
road. She peered around from behind a tree trunk and quickly removed her
jacket, tying it around her waist inside out and tucked her hair behind her
ears. It was a small concession at looking different, but worth a chance. The
road was busy with Saturday afternoon shoppers making their way out of town. He
stood still for a while waiting for a gap in the traffic.

Helen took her chance and lifted her mobile phone, racing through the
options. She selected the wrong number in her haste.
Come on!
Cancelled and re-selected. Eventually Pemberton answered.

He was crossing the road. She would have to talk and go. “Sergeant, it’s
me.”

“Hello, ma’am.”

“I don’t have much time. I’m in
Oakwall
Park and I’m heading towards

Birch Road
. I’ve
located Kane Edwards and I’m following him. I need backup here, now!”

“Are you OK?”

“Yes, fine. Quickly please!”

“Yes, ma’am. Stay on the line.” She could hear him fire instructions into
the background. It was a less than a minute before he responded, “IRT will be
there in three minutes, ETA eight minutes for the armed response car. Are you
still OK?”

Helen was out of breath. She had nipped in and out of the traffic and was
desperately trying to stay on the trail of her suspect. “Yes, I’m in Groves
End, I can see him, he’s just turned a corner into

Lime Street
.” Lime Street was lined with
large old Victorian terraces, many of which had been converted into apartments
and flats. Those in the job called it ‘bedsit land’. It was also the centre of
the red light district of Hampton.

Helen crossed Groves End and clung to the parked cars as she approached
the entrance to

Lime Street
.
A Toyota
Hiace
camper van was parked directly opposite
the junction. She peered through its windows.
Damn
. He had gone again. Then, she just caught sight of the dark
tail wagging through a front door, before it disappeared and the door banged
shut.

Helen glanced along the road. It was the house that was on the end. From
her position here, she could watch the front entrance and the side gate, which
was the rear access. She ran across the road, glimpsed the number, then crossed
back quickly. “Number

84 Lime
Street
, on the corner of
Lime Street
and Groves End. He’s inside .
. .”
 

*
* *

 

Anna looked
out of her bedroom window for the umpteenth time and then shot another glance
at her watch. It was half past one. Her father was still in the garden. The
garden was her only hope of escape. As a teenager she had climbed out of her
bedroom side window a couple of times, down onto the extension of the garage
roof which swept below. From there she had shimmied down the drainpipe and out
into the garden. Of course she was convinced that her father knew what she was
up to, but he never told her mother. It was their shared, unspoken secret. This
way she was able to go out to some of the parties that her mother would never
have approved of. She had even mastered the art of climbing up, back then. She
stared down at the garage roof below, estimating it was only about a three
meter drop. She was a few pounds heavier these days, but surely she could still
manage it?

A knock at the door broke her concentration. She jumped back like a
naughty child up to mischief. “Yes?”

Kathleen Cottrell put her head around the door. “I’ve made a late lunch.
A selection of sandwiches mostly.”
A
selection of sandwiches, anyone would think she was entertaining the Queen.
Anna
glanced across at her. This was typical of her Kathleen, initially arguing
against a police presence ‘intruding her home’, then as soon as PC Emma Cole
arrived automatically treating her as the house guest.

DCI
Lavery
had explained that Family Liaison Officers
were very specially trained to be unobtrusive to family life, providing a
supporting link between the police and the family. Anna guessed that the police
woman was in her late thirties, a round woman of medium height, with dark,
curly hair that danced on her shoulders and dimples that appeared in both
cheeks when she smiled. Dressed in a calf length black skirt and lilac blouse,
Anna thought she looked more like a health visitor than a police officer.

But she had to admit that PC (“Call me Emma”) Cole had certainly settled
in very well. She had an easy way about her and seemed to affect just the right
mannerisms and say just the right words to impress Kathleen. Anna had caught
them laughing together in the kitchen that morning, Emma with a cup of tea in
her hand, tea contained in Kathleen’s Royal
Doulton
-
a service preserved for only
special
visitors.

“I’m not hungry, thank you.”

“You ought to eat something.”

Not wishing to alarm her mother or give any clues as to her plan, Anna
thought fast. “I know, I’m sorry,” she said in the most convincing voice she
could muster. “I’m just tired. Perhaps I could come down and have some a bit
later?”

Kathleen angled her head on one side. “Oh, OK dear, if you wish.” She
turned and left the room.

Anna breathed out a sigh of relief as she listened to the footsteps
disappearing down the stairs. Then, to her delight, Kathleen called her father
in from the garden. This was her chance. She watched her dad disappear from
sight and slowly opened the largest of her windows. The chill rushed in and
caught her in the chest, forcing a shiver.
Quick
now.
She reached over and grabbed an old, red hooded fleece from the chair
beside her bed. Her face creased at its color. She would have to put it on when
she was safely away over the fields. Then she wound her legs out of the window,
reaching down as far as possible, and jumped.

A slight thud left her in a crouched position. She stayed still for
several seconds, until convinced that the noise hadn’t caused alarm, rubbing
her legs. They felt OK, so she shifted over to the edge. Shimmying down the
drainpipe which navigated the side of the garage and into a water butt at the
bottom proved to be more difficult than she had remembered. The fittings had
decayed over the years becoming loose in the wall. She slipped a couple of
times, grazing both her knees, dropping the fleece jacket. But eventually her
feet found the water butt and she was down. The fleece landed in a soft pile
next to her.

Anna looked around. She couldn’t slip out through the side and past the
front of the house, like she had done years ago, in case there were any police
officers out there. No, this time she had to pass through the garden, climb the
fence at the bottom and circumvent the field beyond to take her back to the
main road. This was the most dangerous part.

Anna held her breath and listened carefully. The absence of voices from
the kitchen indicated that her mother had served lunch in the dining room. She
really was in entertainment mode. And without a backward glance she ran, as
fast as she could, down the 200 yard garden and clambered over the four foot
fence at the bottom. For a while she stayed put, on the other side of the
fence, catching her breath and listening hard. Then, for the first time in
days, a smile actually spread across her face. She was free.

 

*
* *

 

The rapid response
vehicles arrived first, but covertly as Helen had insisted. No blues and twos,
no sirens. She didn’t want to alert Edwards until they were ready, until everything
was in place. This was belt and braces. The last thing they wanted was an
escape on their hands. They parked secretly in the road parallel to

Lime Street
,
communicating with her through Pemberton whom she remained connected to on her
mobile phone the whole time.

Then came the firearms team, looking like a bunch of prima donna actors,
trussed up in bullet proof vests that over exaggerated their biceps. Helen
guessed that every one of them, even the women, harbored childhood desires to
be James Bond. They quietly spread through the area.

Helen had been required to wait for the tactical advisor for the firearms
team to contain the area, liaise with force intelligence to find out who was
registered as living at the address, made sure that it was as safe as possible
for his officers to enter the property. She understood the need for these provisions.
If intelligence suggested that a family with children lived at this address
then it would be wrong to enter en masse - they may have a hostage situation on
their hands, or worst still create one, putting officers in undue danger. But
right now the clock was ticking away . . .

As soon as he gave her the signal, she, still hidden behind the camper
van on the opposite side of the road, raised her mobile to her ear. She gave
the command, “3-2-1- Go
Go
Go
!”

Armed officers flew from their positions behind cars, tucked around
corners, low behind fences.

Bang! The door was pushed in with the battering ram. Body after body of
heavily armored officers streamed into the house. The noise became a din, as
tumultuous voices, banging of doors, thunder of footsteps all merged together.
Helen heard a dog barking, more shouting, doors slamming . . .
Come on,
she thought,
bring him out.

An officer came out holding the German Shepherd’s collar. “It’s only a
pup,” he called out laughing. It was animated, geared up by all the excitement.
Where is he?
thought Helen. Uniformed
bodies started piling out of the house. Helen walked over to the front door. “What’s
going on?”

“He’s not here,” PS Bates, head of the Armed Unit, said.

“What do you mean, not here? We’ve been watching both the front door and
the rear exit. How can he have left?”

“No idea, but
he’s gone. You’ll want to get in there and take a look though – he’s one
twisted geezer.”

 
 
 
 

Chapter Twenty-Two

 

Kane Edward’s
flat occupied the whole first floor of the end terraced house. The front door
led directly into the lounge. Furnishings were limited to a brown three
seater
sofa and a television in one corner. The room was
dominated by three elements. Firstly, Anna. The wall behind the television was
plastered with photographs of her: Anna in the cafe with
Rab
,
Anna on her bicycle, Anna’s rear as she made her way through a crowd outside
her flat, Anna in her parents’ garden, side profiles, full frontals, pictures
taken from every angle. There was even a photo of Anna in the police-issue,
navy jogging suit she had worn home from the station, the Saturday before.

As if the photographs weren’t chilling enough, the opposite wall was
covered with computer printouts, posters, pages torn from books of the armed
forces – soldiers at war. As Helen’s eyes flicked over the pieces she picked up
a theme, a focus. The photos showed soldiers from different disciplines,
cultures, countries and backgrounds. She could clearly see the Italian Army
parading in all their finery, the Russian Red Army marching, the British RAF
saluting, pictures of warships, tanks, airplanes.

As she scanned down she noticed that the pieces were becoming more
specific. There were printouts of means of torture – water boarding in the Iraq war, amputation in Sierra Leone.
Goose bumps formed on her arms. DC Spencer’s words flashed in her mind, “. . .
hemophiliac . . . blighted his life . . . Always wanted to join the military,
but failed the medical . . .” Was it possible for someone’s thwarted ambition
to turn so ugly? The majority of articles and printouts appeared to focus on
the Russian/Afghan war in the 1980s and in particular the
Mujahideen
tactic of slicing the skin off Soviet soldiers. Helen shivered. He was studying
his art. Just as a bird watcher may gather books, articles, photos about his
hobby, Kane Edwards was doing the same. Was slicing tattoos from his victims
just the beginning?

Strangely, that wasn’t the thing that bothered Helen most. What really
worried her, what really turned her blood to ice, was the number of weapons he
had accrued. A samurai sword hung off the wall alongside a bayonet and above a
couple of saber claw knives. The carpet underneath the window was strewn with
nun chucks. She walked into the kitchen again and caught sight of a baseball
bat, leaning neatly against the wall beside the back door.

Helen’s stomach churned as she pulled out her mobile phone and dialed
Pemberton’s number urgently. He answered on the second ring.

“Sean, it’s Helen. Get hold of the liaison officer at the
Cottrells
, will you? Make sure that she locks all the doors
and keeps all family members inside.”

“No problem.”

“And make sure the armed car’s down there will you?”

“Certainly, ma’am. I take it he’s given you the slip?”

“Yes,” she sighed, “but we need to catch him and quick. By the looks of
his flat he’s working up to something. And there’s no telling what will happen
if we don’t get him off the streets now.”

 

*
* *

 

Anna was
angry, angry at the intrusion into her personal life, her home, her belongings,
her relationships. Angry at the emotional pain and suffering inflicted on her
family and those close to her over the past eight days. Angry with the lies,
secrets, deception she had unknowingly faced over the years. And the anger
fired her up as she trudged through the fields towards Cross Keys.

She could hear her phone ringing and pulled it out of her pocket.
Recognizing DCI
Lavery’s
number she scowled at it and
rejected the call. A text message also flashed in the inbox and she clicked to
see who it was –
Rab
. She sighed and put it back into
her pocket without even reading the message.
Leave me alone.

The ring road roundabout at Cross Keys was busy with shoppers heading in
and out of Hampton
city centre, families traveling to and from their destinations, people on their
way home from work. She had to wait several minutes before she could get across
and take the third exit into Keys trading estate.

In stark contrast the trading estate was quiet. She passed a car workshop
with a few vehicles parked outside, a printing company which looked deserted,
two engineering companies and a couple of brick buildings which looked like
offices. One was called ‘Angel Sportswear’ but the A was hanging off the sign.
They all showed little sign of life. Anna guessed that many of them either
didn’t work Saturdays or opted for an early finish. Only a few die
hards
were left to finish up. As she progressed into the
trading estate the noise of the traffic eventually subsided. She left it all
behind her and it felt strangely peaceful.

Her thoughts turned back to Ross. She knew now that she would sacrifice
herself for him if necessary. Dying would be easy compared to the life that she
had lived this past week. It would feel like someone switching off the light,
taking away all the pain, the confusion, the distress to those around her. This
wasn’t living. It was more like living hell. She continued on her path deeper
into the estate.

The entrance to

Bracken Way
was set back from the road, surrounded by a small car park, marked with the
sign of a white bicycle on the blue background for the ‘National Cycle
Network’. Formerly a railway line, it had fallen victim to the mass cull of the
railways in the 1960s and lay stagnant for many years. Around 30 years ago the
neighboring councils clubbed together and invested in a development program
which transformed it into a cycle and walking route, placing several small car
parks and picnic areas at intervals along the route so that people could decide
how far they wished to travel.

Anna thought back to when she had last used this route. It would have
been the first summer that her and Ross were together. The track ran for almost
22 miles, but not many people covered the whole route, apart from the seriously
determined cyclists. They had packed a picnic and cycled the whole length and
back, on that warm August afternoon, encountering walkers, cyclists, runners,
families, couples, people walking dogs on the way. It had been a hive of activity,
families jostling for a safe area to take the children and a flat ride on their
bikes. There had even been an ice cream van parked at this entrance.

But there was no ice cream van today, no crowds to be seen. Even the car
park was empty.
Perfect place for a
murder.
She shuddered.

Anna stepped onto the track uneasily, her eyes darting around, surveying
the isolated surroundings. She could smell damp wood, the branches on the trees
not recovering from the recent rain. The silence was eerie.

Paradoxically this disused railway track lay only a mile from the busy
Cross Keys roundabout, but the tall, mature, broad leaf trees and high
vegetation still managed to cut out the noise. Even at this time of year when
their leaves had disappeared, it felt very secluded.

Nervous doubts crept into her mind.
Should
I tell someone where I am? Just in case?
She kept walking as she thought,
one foot in front of the other, towards the tunnel entrance. Her pace slowed
slightly, but she wouldn’t allow herself to stop. If she stopped she would turn
back, she knew it.
And then what would
happen to Ross?
Apprehension flooded her veins.

The sudden buzz of her phone in her pocket made her jump.
Calm down.
She stopped and retrieved it
from her pocket – another message from
Rab
. She
sighed and stared at his name for a long moment. This was her chance. A quick
text, that was all it would take.
Perhaps
this is a trap? If I just
. . .

At that moment she felt a strange sensation. The hairs on the back of her
neck stood on end. Somebody, somewhere was watching her.

Anna looked up. The tunnel was now in sight in the distance. Was that
movement down at the bottom? She scrunched up her eyes. She wasn’t sure if it
was a figure or the bare branch of a tree hanging down. Hastily, she put her
phone back in her pocket, not quite summoning the courage to turn it off
. Perfect place for a murder.

She started walking again and soon realized, about two hundred yards from
the cavernous tunnel entrance that it was a huge tree branch, belonging to an
old oak tree. It looked like it had been hit by lightening, hanging awkwardly
away from the main part of the trunk. She breathed a sigh of relief and carried
on walking.

It was just as she reached the bench that she heard it. A soft crunch,
followed by a gravelly voice behind her, “You can stop right there . . .”

 

*
* *

 

As Helen
ended the call to Pemberton, she felt crushed. Anna had disappeared from her
parent’s home, slipped out without anyone knowing. How could that have
happened? Her mind was buzzing. Now they had lost Kane and Anna. This was a
recipe for disaster.

Her father had told her that heading a murder investigation was like a
drug. He should know. He had carried the job for almost fifteen years, right up
to his retirement. He had said, when you worked a case, caught your killer, you
made a huge difference to everybody’s lives. This was the big time, catching
the real bad guys - there was no other job that offered the same rush.

Except right now Helen didn’t feel any rush. It was all going belly up.
And with
Celebrity Cop
Sawford
breathing down her neck, this was all she needed. She could just imagine his
insidious mind working overtime now, plotting how he could turn this around to
suit his own ends. She reached for her phone, selected
Rab
McCafferty’s
name and actually crossed her fingers as
she pressed dial.

 

*
* *

 

Anna swung
around, then froze. The man behind her froze too. He didn’t say anything for
what seemed like several minutes, just stood, like a waxwork statue, staring
back at her. A familiar statue.

Anna cast her eyes behind him in confusion, then found her voice at last,
“I wasn’t expecting . . .”

 
His eyes pierced her skin. He
seemed to read her mind. “Had to make sure you weren’t being followed.”

“Where’s Ross?” Anna stared back at him defiantly, using all of the
bravado she could find, battling to get the words out evenly.
Where have I seen you before?
She
thought inwardly.

Kane Edwards stared back at her, his eyes open rather too wide for her
liking. Then he tilted his head to one side as a mischievous, evil smile crept
onto his lips. “All in good time.”

This is wrong. Get out of here.

Kane held his head back, took a long, deep breath through his nose and
looked around him. “It’s lovely here, isn’t it?” he said, finally resting his
eyes upon her again. They were so pale, so menacing.

Who are you?
She tried to stand
tall. “You said you have some information about Ross?”

He looked her up and down and she felt as though a large spider was
crawling up her neck.

“I did, didn’t I?”

“Look, if you’ve lied to me . . .”

“Do you like blond men, Anna?”

Her stomach churned.

“I like brunettes. I like you.” He took a step closer and she instinctively
stepped back, stumbling in her wake.

Fear crept through her veins.
Keep
him talking
. “Let Ross go. Please?”

His face clouded slightly. “We can talk about Ross later. Let’s get to
know each other first, eh?” He reached forward and attempted to run his index
finger down the side of her face, but she ducked out of the way defiantly.

“Come on, Anna, we’re just being friendly.”

Her stomach turned upside down. He was much taller than her, well over a
foot, and he wore combat trousers and a combat gilet, the pockets bulging. His
arms were bare, in spite of the cold weather. She looked at his yellow teeth,
his thinning white-blond hair scraped away from his face. He lifted an equally
yellow, tobacco tinged finger and rubbed it along his jaw line. All the time he
stared straight into her eyes, a gesture she found very disconcerting. If he
did blink, she didn’t notice.

“What do you want from me?” Anna asked finally.

“Just to get to know you a bit better,” he said, his piercing eyes
looking deep into her.

 
“What do you mean? I don’t even know who
you are,” she said confounded.

He reached into one of the top pockets and pulled out something.

Anna gasped. Her address book. The one she couldn’t find in her flat.
That meant . . .

“I feel I know you quite well myself,” Kane responded, a cruel smile on
his lips.

She wanted to turn, to run, but her feet were rooted to the floor. He was
much taller than her, maybe even fitter. No doubt, he would be much quicker.
She managed a swift glance over her shoulder.

Again, he tilted his head to one side. “Looking for someone?”

She shook her head, small jerking movements, but said nothing. The truth
of the matter was that nobody knew she was here. All those chances . . . Helen
and
Rab
had tried to contact her. But no. She did
nothing. And now she was here, all alone.

“Leave me alone.”

He put the book back in a pocket. “Don’t be like that. Come on, we have a
lot in common you and I. We both like Muse.”

“W-What?”

“And I love the intermezzo too.
Raging
Bull
is one of my favorite films.” She looked back at him puzzled, feeling
completely at a disadvantage. “And I listen to ‘Eyes Open’ all the time. Just
like