False Witness (John Steel series Book 3) (8 page)

The only lights he had to brighten the small apartment were a couple of standard lamps and one that sat on a dresser to the rear of the sofa. The seating area was combined with a kitchen area, next to which was a long corridor that contained a bathroom and two bedrooms, one of which lay right at the end and was now used as his office.

Edward closed the door and put on the chain and the two safety bolts before taking off his denim jacket and tossing it onto the back of the couch. The room was dimly lit, but he found it to be more homely that way.

The silence was suddenly broken by the sound of music, as his ring tone blared through his jacket—the loud tones of
Pink
alerting him to his editor’s call. Reaching into the front flap pocket he drew out the phone and pressed the accept button.

“What’s up, boss?” he asked jokily, as he listened to his boss’s rants about deadlines.

“I am nearly there,” he protested. “I just got some more people to speak to and then I should be done. Look I need to get the facts right here because if I am wrong he walks and gets away with it, they all do.” He listened for a moment as he headed towards his ‘office’ down the darkened corridor.

He reached for the handle, but then suddenly he stopped because of something his editor had said.

“What, what do you mean he escaped?” Edward asked. “No that can’t be. If he got out... Look, Chief, I have got a lead.” Edward turned and headed back towards the sitting room, the loud rants of his boss coming from the cell’s speaker.

“Yes, I have proof. What? No it’s safe, sure it is, it’s—”

An electric blue flash filled the hallway and Edward fell silent.

The only noise was from Edward’s phone:

“Ed, are you there? Ed? Ed?”

A patrol vehicle pulled
up outside Edward Gibbs’s building. The officers inside were responding to a 911 call that dispatch had called through.

They didn’t have many details, only the information that some newspaper reporter may be in distress. The sergeant got out and put on his hat, pulling down the peak so it nestled comfortably on his head.

The other man came round and stood beside him. The pair were a training officer and his rookie.

“Come on, kid, let’s find out what this is all about, shall we?” the older man said.

They entered through the main doors and looked at the row of post boxes on the wall to find the right apartment.

“There it is: 4b,” announced the sergeant. “Okay, kid, let’s go.” The veteran cop had a deep gruff voice. Venturing over the hallway they took the stairs to the fourth floor.

The building was clean but still needed a little TLC to brighten it up. As they reached the fourth floor they were greeted by a short, dimly lit landing area that twisted round to accommodate the apartments. Number 4b was at the end on the left-hand side. They stood in front of the door and the sergeant just waited, letting the rookie do the knocking.

The young cop clenched a fist so his knuckles went white and knocked loudly three times to make sure he was heard. The door opened slightly, causing them to move back. They both drew their weapons as instinct kicked in.

“Police!” the sergeant yelled loudly through the narrow gap. “Is there anyone home?”

They waited for a second before they made their move. The sergeant went in first, nudging the door with his boot. His handgun was held high and ready. “Don’t shoot me in the ass,” he told his colleague.

The rookie nodded as they made their way in.

The apartment was in darkness and an eerie silence hung in the air as though the city had held its breath just for this moment. Using their flashlights they began to sweep the room. The rookie cop could feel his heart start to pound in his chest as the adrenaline was starting to seep through his veins.

“Why don’t we just switch the lights on?” the young cop asked, but he could feel himself answering his own question.

“Okay room clear!” the sergeant announced. “We move down and clear the rooms as we go. Make sure your goddamn finger is on the guard and not on that trigger.” The sergeant had had several near misses because of rookies in bad situations, because some scenarios couldn’t be prepared for at the training academy.

They had cleared the first bedroom and moved up to the bathroom. The subtle
drip drip drip
of water was coming from behind the closed door.

The sergeant moved to the left side of the door and signalled for the other man to get to the other. The veteran cop was in his late forties, and years of too much fast food on the job had diminished his running speed.

He stopped for a moment and relaxed to get his breathing right, as beads of sweat started to collect under his hat. The torches created a halo of dim light round the pair so hand and head movements could be used with ease.

The rookie could make out the sergeant’s lip movement as he counted down from three. As he got to ‘one’ the sergeant swung his arm and hammered the door open. A piercing screech filled their ears as a cat came bolting out past the rookie.

“Jesus!” yelled the sergeant, slamming his back against the wall in shock. The two of them started to laugh at the situation, but managed to contain themselves. Then the sergeant’s head tilted towards the last room, its door open and inviting. The laughing stopped and their hearts began to race once more.

The rookie watched as the sergeant took ‘point’—the position of the person who goes first into a situation. He could hear every thump of his heart in his ears, and he hung back enough not to get in the way—just in case the sergeant had to back off quickly.

Now the silence was becoming unbearable, and he felt like coughing just to shatter the emptiness. The sergeant stopped at the door and backed off slowly, and the young cop caught a sight of his boss’s contorted face as he turned round and moved back to the sitting room, taking out his radio and making a call.

“Control, this is Mike four-twenty-one, yeah, hi, we need a CSU and the ME’s office down at that address you sent me to.” The young cop watched as the veteran shook his head as if trying to get the image out of his mind.

Curiosity drew him towards the room, to find out what was so terrible. He could feel himself moving towards the door.

“Don’t go in there, kid!” the older man instructed. “Just move back to the sitting room and we’ll wait for the techs to get here.”

But the kid couldn’t resist and slowly turned the corner.

At first, he saw nothing. So he moved the flashlight around until he found a desk and a chair.

He found himself looking puzzled. What had spooked the veteran so much, he wondered? Then his light hit the large monitor and he saw the reflection. The flashlight hit the floor as the man ran for the bathroom.

The veteran cop leaned his head back and breathed in a lungful of fresh air, but dared not close his eyes, for fear of re-seeing that image in the monitor that was now burnt into his brain. He heard the kid blowing his dinner into the toilet and shook his head.

“I told you not to look.”

It was late when McCall got the call on her smart phone. She had kicked off her boots and made some popcorn ready to enjoy a movie marathon.

As her cell phone danced around the table with the vibrations of its ring, she just looked at first, almost not wanting to answer it. But its persistence became unbearable and she had to answer:

“McCall.” Her tone was filled with disappointment. Her eyes fell on the bottle of red she had just uncorked, and she scowled as she waited for the inevitable.

“We need you to come in.” The voice was that of the night-desk sergeant. He apologised for disturbing her and passed on the message he had gotten from the other shift.

The roads were fairly quiet, but trying to find a parking space park near the scene was nigh on impossible. The street was narrow and made worse by the almost never-ending line of parked cars.

Samantha McCall had to park almost a mile away, or so it felt. The night air was warm with a slight breeze that tickled her cheeks as it brushed past.

She had no trouble finding the building: squad cars with their blue lights that illuminated the surrounding buildings, the ME’s van and the CSU four-by-four made the place stand out.

As McCall passed the uniform at the main door, she showed her shield. The female officer nodded and then went back to watching the street for anyone trying to sneak in for a better look. Inside she followed the procession of uniforms and stopped at the fourth floor on seeing detectives doing the door-to-door.

McCall headed for what she thought was the obvious doorway, with CSU teams getting suited up for the task ahead.

As she entered the sitting room McCall looked round, taking in the decor of the journalist’s apartment. As her head turned, she stopped as she saw a familiar face and smiled.

“Hey, Detective Bennett, you got me out of bed to work your case for you,” she called out.

The detective stopped talking to one of his colleagues and turned to her with a large grin. “Hey, McCall, I figured you might like to watch in, see how the real cops do it for a change.”

The two of them embraced like long-lost buddies.

“It’s been too long, Sami,” her friend said. “I heard you got a couple of news flashes recently, very nice.” Bennett said smiling.

She slapped him on the shoulder, still grinning. “Okay, so you didn’t bring me down in the middle of the night to reminisce. What’s going on?”

Bennett’s face became grim. “This looks like the work of your killer. Gee, I’m sorry Sami, he’s struck again.”

McCall finished gloving up and nodded, and then she pulled out her small camera and switched it on.

“Okay, Carl, you lead.” She said.

The tall blond-haired detective flicked his head in a
come on
motion and she followed him to that long hallway she had noticed when she’d first entered.

Picture frames with news articles littered the walls. She took note of one and realised it was a kind of scrapbook of everything the journalist had done. McCall nodded in respect of his work, which spanned from war in Afghanistan to the lowdown on some guy crossing the world on a bike.

Sam got her camera and her nerves ready. For her it was the unknown that was the worst part of this procedure. Not knowing what to expect, sure, she had seen some bad things—especially with the first case she and Steel had worked. But nothing ever prepares you for that first sight of a body.

Once inside the room McCall saw the ME who took the other shift when Tina wasn’t on duty. His name was Fowler, a name which matched his attitude to anyone with a pulse. He was a heavy looking man with red hair and round glasses that seemed too small for his large head.

“Hi, Doc. McCall’s here,” Bennett announced her arrival. The ME looked over and just grunted a friendly greeting—or as friendly as he knew how.

“Hi there. We have one Edward Gibbs, forty-five years old. He was a journalist with the
Herald
.”

McCall walked round the chair to get a better look at the victim. The man was sitting in the chair with his head back, looking towards the ceiling. He had been tied to the chair using cable ties on his wrists and ankles. His eyes were open wide with a panicked stare, and, just as with the first victim, his nose and mouth had been sewn shut.

“I take it you’re not going to open his mouth here?” she asked.

The doctor looked up and shook his head wildly. “Unfortunately, because this is your case it goes to Doctor Franks. She can find the special treat if she wants too.” He waved at the orderlies, who were waiting to bag the corpse.

McCall quickly took some snaps of the body before they carried it off down to the waiting ME’s car. She finished off taking pictures of the area and headed out to the sitting room.

“Where you going?” asked Bennett, following her into the other room.

“I am going to let CSU do their thing and then I’m going home. I’ll be back tomorrow when I have had some sleep.”

Bennett shook his head in disbelief. “So you’re leaving the crime scene until tomorrow?”

Sam McCall smiled and nodded.

“I don’t blame her, she has had a remarkably bad day so far.”

They both spun round to see a tall man dressed in a black suit, with sunglasses. His long black coat was draped over the backrest of the couch.

Samantha McCall smiled at Steel’s timing.

“Who the hell are you?” yelled Bennett.

McCall raised an introductory hand towards the man. “Detective Carl Bennett, meet my partner, Detective John Steel.”

The two men shook hands. Bennett’s eyes searched Steel’s face for any sign of emotion, but the other man’s dark glasses hid everything that could give him away.

“I heard a lot about you, man, and I must say your appearance is just what I expected,” Carl Bennett welcomed him.

Steel looked at Bennett, noting his high-end suit and shiny new shoes, and his well-toned muscular body, no doubt the result of good dining and working out at the gym. The British guy cracked a smile. “Same here, Carl.” His words were short but hit some sort of nerve.

Bennett released Steel’s hand. “You only heard good things, I hope?” joked Bennett, as he stared into Steel’s poker face.

John Steel broke a smile and shrugged. “You know how it is. Some good things, some bad.” Steel lost his smile at the last sentence and walked off towards the long corridor that led to the bathroom and the office.

The detective in sunglasses stood at the mouth of the long stretch of landing and took everything in.

A quiet hum from his jacket pocket alerted him to an incoming text. Taking out the cell phone he read the message, then slipped it away again.

“Well I would love to stay but something has come up,” he told the other officers. “McCall, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned his head towards Bennett and gave a small head bow. “Detective, a pleasure, I am sure we will meet again.” Steel turned and hurried out of the door and headed for the street below.