DS Jessica Daniel series: Locked In/Vigilante/The Woman in Black - Books 1-3 (44 page)

Jessica knew exactly what he was talking about but let him continue. ‘Maybe if it was hairs or something like that on a body or at a scene, someone could have placed them in a clever way
but it wasn’t hairs we found. There was blood which had mainly dried directly under the nail.’

He moved his hands up in front of his chest to illustrate his point. ‘If someone was trying to stab you, you might try to grab their wrist to stop the blade. If you snatched hard enough,
you could break the skin and that’s how you would end up with someone’s blood underneath your fingernails. That’s exactly what it looks like; it’s not as if there was loads
of blood but you wouldn’t expect there to be.’

‘In other words, it would be pretty hard to fake getting dried blood under the victim’s nails.’

‘Right. Not impossible but you would have to really know what you were doing.’

Adam risked another look up from the table towards Jessica but looked away when he saw she was still watching him. She noticed he had deep brown eyes, the type which sometimes looked as if there
was no separate pupil because they were so dark.

Jessica looked to Cole and widened her eyes as if to ask, ‘Anything else?’

He took the hint and stood, offering his hand for Adam to shake. ‘Thanks very much for your help, Mr Compton.’ Jessica shook his hand too.

‘Can I, er . . . do you mind if I give you my phone number?’ Adam had clearly asked Jessica, not Cole. ‘Just in case, y’know . . . if you want to check anything else or
whatever? You don’t have to . . .’

Jessica pulled her own mobile phone out and typed his details into it, ignoring the knowing smile she knew Cole would be giving her.

‘You already gave me your number, so I can text you if need be?’

Jessica had forgotten she had given Adam her number over the phone. Technically it had been for professional purposes but she guessed the ‘need be’ could end up being some sort of
invitation for a pint or something. Given the guy’s nervous behaviour, she couldn’t imagine he had ever asked a girl out in person.

‘Okay,’ she said. Adam turned and walked back towards the door, tripping over in the exact same spot as before. Jessica smiled and turned back to her colleague.

‘I didn’t say a word,’ Cole said. He hadn’t had to, his raised eyebrow said it all.

Back at the station, it was now pushing late afternoon and clocking-off time. Jessica wasn’t too bothered by keeping to set hours and most of the team ended up working
unpaid overtime as and when required. Jessica had gone over their records and, according to everything they had on file, Donald McKenna was an only child. He was born locally and she would send
some poor constable out to check the register office’s records but there was no reason to think there would be a mistake in the information she had access to. Names could sometimes be spelled
wrong but she had never known an instance where an entire person was simply missing from a record.

From everything Adam had told them, Jessica could only see three possibilities. First, someone had access to the inmate’s blood and somewhere to store it securely, plus the knowledge of
how to plant it at a scene. Second, Donald McKenna had an identical twin, not just a brother or sister, who no one knew about. Third, the prisoner had simply walked unnoticed out of a
maximum-security prison and stabbed someone to death before returning.

Regardless of which option was correct, it was going to take some figuring out.

The media hadn’t bothered reporting the stabbing of Craig Millar in much detail. Some crimes were given more prominence than others when it came to running orders on news
bulletins or the front pages of newspapers. Jessica always made a point to look for how her cases were being reported. It seemed clear that whoever was in charge of the various decisions relating
to the importance of the story had decided a dead young man on an estate notorious for anti-social behaviour didn’t rank too highly. Jessica sighed at the front-page story in the local paper
about a soap star who was having a baby.

She was sitting on the corner of Rowlands’s desk on the main floor of the station and held the paper up for him to see. ‘Why are people interested in the contents of the uterus of
whoever this person is?’

It was a rhetorical question she didn’t really expect an answer to. She got one anyway.

‘I’d pay
special
attention if it were me.’ Jessica rolled her eyes. ‘You’re a real charmer, Dave?’ He winked at her. ‘So what do you want me to
do with this list then?’ he asked.

Jessica grinned. ‘Well, you know you put together all those names of people who might have it in for Craig Millar? I want you to put together another list for people who could have it in
for, or be associated with, Donald McKenna. Then I want you to check the lists with each other to see if anyone shows up twice.’

‘You are joking?’

‘I’ll leave you this to keep you company.’ Jessica dropped the paper on his lap, with the front-page photo of the soap star on top. ‘Have fun.’

It was the day after her visits to see Donald McKenna and Adam Compton and Jessica knew she would definitely have to return to the prison. The governor would have to be put in the picture this
time so Detective Superintendent William Aylesbury was going to make the initial contact and then Jessica and DI Cole would visit. DSI Aylesbury had been the DCI at Longsight up until six months
ago. He had been the natural replacement when the previous incumbent had retired. Jessica hadn’t really got on with the chief inspector until the last few months of his spell at the station
where she had begun to understand the way he worked. His promotion meant he was no longer based at the same station as her because he had jurisdiction over multiple stations in the area and the
local chief inspectors were answerable to him. Jessica had seen him once or twice since his elevation and he always said ‘hello’ to her.

Given the strange nature of the test results, it was felt someone far more senior than them should be the one who filled the governor in. No one was directly accusing him of a failure but he
would be asked to double-check the security arrangements on the particular wing Donald McKenna was housed on. Coming from someone as senior as the DSI meant he couldn’t complain. The key
thing was, no one was accusing the prison of being negligent, they simply didn’t know what had happened.

Having spoken to Rowlands, Jessica exited the main floor and headed to Cole’s office. She found him typing on his keyboard. ‘Is he ready for us yet?’ Jessica flicked her eyes
upwards, indicating the floor above and the DCI’s office.

‘Yes but he’s not in a good mood. I don’t think he liked having to make that call to Aylesbury earlier.’

‘I think he’s still pissed off at having to cross the border.’

Detective Chief Inspector John Farraday originally came from Yorkshire but had been asked to move to Manchester after Aylesbury had been promoted. Usually, there would have been an internal
appointment from the local police force but DI Cole had only been promoted to his current position less than two years ago and was never in contention. There was no obvious choice in the other
local stations so management had looked elsewhere for a suitable person.

To Jessica, it made absolutely no difference where someone came from; she treated people as she found them. To a few older members of the team, there was still some sort of bizarre cross-county
resentment in relation to a Yorkshireman coming to Greater Manchester and telling them what to do. Before he started, a couple of the more experienced uniformed officers spoke about how
‘tight’ they expected the new appointment to be. It didn’t help that Farraday himself didn’t seem overly pleased at having to live in Manchester. In the past six months,
Jessica must have heard him complain about the ‘pissing rain’ at least three times a week. Still, it did piss with rain at least three times a week, so he probably had a point.

Cole stood up from his desk and they both went up to the first floor. They walked past the windows of their boss’s office and knocked on the door before being waved in. ‘Cole.
Daniel,’ Farraday said. He greeted everyone by their surnames and Jessica had a sneaking suspicion it was because he couldn’t remember their first names or titles.

Farraday was sitting in his chair doing something on his mobile phone. He was around six feet tall but seemed more imposing because of his large chest and shoulders. He was somewhere in his late
forties but had only just begun to go grey. Jessica often thought he would have been an extremely good-looking guy when he was a little younger. He had a very symmetrical face and, although the
wrinkles were building up with age, he still had a boyishness about him. That was until he spoke. The man had an enormous voice even when speaking at a regular volume, let alone when he shouted.
His accent was thick and something he was obviously proud of.

The two officers sat and Farraday put his phone down and began.

‘I’ve just finished speaking to the superintendent. From what he says, the prison governor is not happy whatsoever. He reckons we’re telling him how to do his job. Personally,
I think he probably needs to be told how to do his job but it wasn’t my call to make. Either way, it’s been cleared for you two to go back tomorrow. You can interview McKenna again and
check whatever you want in his cell or wherever.’

He was drumming his fingers on the desk while he spoke. ‘Based on whatever you come back with, someone’s going to have to make a decision about what we do next. Do I think
we’ll be able to charge him? I doubt it. We’ll have to get the CPS in or something.’ Her boss had an incredibly irritating habit of asking himself a question and then answering
it. Jessica wasn’t sure if other people noticed it but every time he did it she had to battle not to clench her teeth in annoyance.

‘Surely we can’t charge him, can we?’ Jessica asked.

Farraday glared at her. He didn’t like being interrupted and clearly hadn’t finished his train of thought.

‘As I was
about to say
, I can’t believe the CPS would be recommending charging McKenna, given the guy is behind bars. You’d have to have a complete set of morons on
the jury to find him guilty.’

Jessica knew there were plenty of ‘morons’ just ready and waiting to sit on a jury but doubted any of them were crazy enough to find beyond reasonable doubt that someone behind bars
had committed a crime on the outside.

‘Given all that, we have to start looking into anyone that might connect Millar to McKenna.’ Her boss stopped talking and leant back slightly in his chair, an invitation for either
of them to speak. Jessica didn’t want to point out she had already assigned Rowlands to look into anyone that connected the two men.

With Cole not looking as if he was going to speak, she did get in first though. ‘One of the constables was sent to the register office this morning and confirmed there was no twin
registered alongside Donald McKenna. There’s no obvious record of any other brother or sister born to his mother either.’

‘Are his parents still alive?’

‘There was no father’s name on the birth certificate but the mother died years ago.’

Farraday shuffled in his chair, humming to himself. ‘Any bright ideas?’

Jessica didn’t have any. As far as she could tell, they were doing all they could. She looked at Cole, who looked as blank as she did.

‘No, Sir,’ Cole said.

‘Are we bringing in the media?’ Jessica asked.

‘Do I think we should bring in the media? Not yet. We’ll wait until after you’ve been back to the prison tomorrow.’ He paused for a second. ‘Anything else?’
Neither of them answered.

‘Right then. I’m off to the cricket.’ Jessica looked queryingly at the man sitting next to her but Farraday filled them in before either had to ask.
‘Lancashire–Yorkshire at Old Trafford. Last day of the County Championship season. Would have been there first-thing if it wasn’t for having to deal with the super.’

Jessica didn’t know what to say. If her boss wanted to go to the cricket, she guessed it was up to him. ‘Is there anything specific you want us to be moving with then, Sir?’
she asked.

‘No. Just try to connect Millar and McKenna. It’s only some scumbag kid, isn’t it? If it
is
McKenna, I hope he takes down a whole bunch more of these little shits with
him.’

Farraday stood up to indicate the meeting was over and the other two officers followed his lead. Jessica went back to her office – Reynolds was again absent – and sat at her desk.
There was something a little unnerving about her boss’s tone at the end of their talk. There was a lot of black humour in police stations and people got away with saying the most outrageous
things because there was no real malice behind it but it didn’t sound as if he had been joking.

Jessica had consistently found the DCI hard to read since he started. In his first week in the job, some of the officers had decided to see how many references they could get to Yorkshire into
conversations with him. Someone would slip the word ‘whippet’ into a morning briefing. One officer kept going on about ‘Batley’, a town in the county, for no obvious reason,
while others spoke about ‘tea’ and ‘Yorkshire pudding’. Instead of using the word ‘you’, half the team were calling each other ‘thee’. Things were
getting out of hand but he eventually clocked the game when one of the younger members of the team spoke about ‘Geoffrey Boycott’, a famous Yorkshire cricketer, and then burst out
laughing.

It was all very childish but the chief inspector took it in the spirit it was meant and had even invited everyone who worked in the station to his new house for an introduction party of sorts.
He owned a large property to the south of the city in a nice area. The fact he had saved up enough to buy a place such as that hadn’t helped his ‘tight’ reputation around the
station. Apparently he had grownup children but no one had met them, although his wife came across well at the party. Jessica had gone but spent much of the evening hanging around with Carrie and
Dave. Rowlands had been rather taken with one of the family photographs that centred on one of their boss’s grown-up daughters. Some of the other officers had made a big joke out of subtly
moving items around, even if it was just switching ornaments with each other. Their host had taken a fair ribbing over a framed photo of Headingley cricket ground he had hanging in his hallway.