Foul Justice (16 page)

“Yeah, and I bet you spoilt him rotten yesterday too, old man.”

Acting as though he’d been caught out, he mumbled indignantly, “I did not.”

Charlie joined them and wrapped her arms around her grandfather’s waist. “Yeah, Mum’s right. You always spoil him. I’ve seen your stash of doggie treats in the cupboard under the stairs.”

Her father cringed, and Lorne laughed. “Oh, is that right? You hypocrite!”

“Telltale.” Sam Collins smiled adoringly at his granddaughter. “Oh, and you know that stash of sweets I have in my kitchen cupboard for when you visit? They’re going in the bin the minute I get home.”

“I don’t believe you. You wouldn’t do that to your favourite grandchild,” Charlie challenged.

Shrugging and grinning broadly, he told her, “We’ll see how nice you are to me today. You’ve got a lot of making up to do, miss.”

Charlie and Lorne exchanged knowing glances as they prepared the table for lunch. After they had devoured the roast pork dinner and a syrup sponge pudding and custard, everyone collapsed in their chairs, patting their full stomachs. Lorne made a mental note to buy some salad the next time she went shopping to help shed some of the calories she had put on that week. The last thing she wanted to do when Tony got home was look like Porky Pig.

By seven that evening, the house was quiet, and Lorne was relaxing on the sofa with Henry, her cheeks aching from smiling and laughing too much during the day. She was just summoning up the effort to get out of the chair and go to bed when the phone rang. She retrieved it from the side table beside her and answered it. “Hello?”

“Lorne, it’s Patti.”

Lorne could tell by the tone of the pathologist’s voice that she had bad news. “Hi, Patti. Go on, hit me with it.”

“Are you sitting down?”

“I am.”

“I’ve just had a quick communication with Dave. It lasted seconds—that’s all, Lorne, so don’t go getting worked up about what I’m going to tell you, okay?”

Lorne ran a hand through her hair and prepared herself for bad news. “Go on.”

“Dave told me they’re aware of where Tony is—”

“My God, is he all right? I’m sorry, please continue, Patti.”

She heard Patti expel a breath before she went on, “They’re monitoring the situation, Lorne. Apparently, he’s in a cave being guarded by a large group of men. That’s all Dave said before the line went dead.”

“Oh, Patti, I’m so grateful to you both. It’s the not knowing anything that’s eating me up. I know you probably can’t answer this, but do you suspect they’ll try a rescue attempt?”

“I’d say that’s a given. They tend to closely survey situations for a few days rather jump in feet first. The last thing I want to do is get your hopes up, but to me the news sounds positive. I just wanted to make you aware at the earliest opportunity.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Patti. I’ve been going out of my mind with worry, obviously. At least this news gives me something to latch on to.”

Lorne could hear the smile wipe away the worry in the other woman’s voice when she replied, “That’s why I thought I’d ring you straight away. Try and get some rest now. I’ll speak to you soon.”

“Thank you, I will. I appreciate your call. Good night.”

The first thing Lorne did was tearfully relay the news to her father. When she hung up, Henry sat in front of her with his head tilted to the side. Flinging her arms around him, she gave him a bear hug; and with tears running down her cheeks, she whispered, “Daddy’s coming home, sweet pea. He’s coming home.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

L
orne breezed into the
incident room the next morning with a huge grin lighting up her face.

Katy was already there; she must have left Manchester in the early hours of the morning to get there by nine. She followed Lorne into her office. “You’ve heard good news, I take it?”

Lorne nodded and swept a casual hand through her hair. “I can’t really tell you, but I have had a snippet of information, yes.”

Sitting down, Katy smiled. “I’m so pleased for you.”

“Hey, enough about me. How was your weekend? I hope Darren didn’t pop up.”

“No, thankfully. He did call, though. I’ve told him we’re finished and I want him to get his stuff out of the flat immediately.”

“Good girl. How did he take the news?”

Katy’s mouth twisted. “The way I thought he would. Called me all the names he could think of and said it wasn’t over until he said it was.”

“Oh, is that right? That young man is forgetting you’re a copper, isn’t he?”

“Selective memory, I think it’s called.”

Lorne laughed. “Hold firm. For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing. Once an abuser, they rarely break the cycle in my experience, both personal and professional. It’s all about power. If you stand firm and show him he no longer has the power over you, he’ll soon give up.”

She hoped that would be the case with Darren, although in her time on the force Lorne had seen several abusive relationships end up with the abuser behind bars, serving a life sentence for killing his partner because of his unwillingness to relinquish the power he had over his spouse or girlfriend. She would do anything in her power to ensure that Katy’s relationship didn’t come to that. If that meant another warning in Darren’s ear, then so be it.

“What’s on the agenda today, boss?” Katy asked, swiftly changing the subject.

Lorne flicked through the pile of post on the desk in front of her. “Actually, I thought we might return the files to the security firm today. I know we didn’t find much, but I thought we’d make them think the opposite.”

“Sounds good. What time do you want to set off?”

She waved the letters in her hand. “Probably take me a good half an hour to get through this lot. Gather the files together for the security firm and the designer. We might as well drop those back too, while we’re at it, or pretend too. I’d like to keep the pressure on these guys.”

Katy left the office, and Lorne picked up her phone and called her superior. “Sir? Just a quick one to say that I’ve had some tentative news about Tony.”

“Is he all right?” Roberts asked, concerned.

“I can’t say much at the moment. Let’s just say the news has come as a welcome relief.”

“Thanks for keeping me informed, Lorne. We’ll catch up on the case later. I’ve got a meeting with the super in a few minutes.”

“I’ll be out this morning putting the squeeze on a few suspects. Hopefully be back some time after lunch.”

“We’ll catch up then.”

•     •     •

Lorne pulled the car
into the car park of the security firm a couple of hours later. When she pushed open the front door, she was surprised to see only one person present.

“Is Mr. Underhill around?”

His assistant, who had raised his head and seen them walk in, kept his eyes on the paperwork in front of him. “Nope.”

“Where is he?” Lorne tried not to grind her teeth.

“Called in sick.” The guy rudely avoided looking up at her when he answered.

“Does he call—” Lorne slapped her hand on his paperwork, grabbing his attention.

“Jeez, lady! You scared the shit out of me.”

“Your customer relations suck. Now give me your full attention. Does he call in sick often?”

The young man shook his head. “This is the first time since we started up.”

“Give me his address,” Lorne ordered, her suspicions churning. “Don’t look at me like that. Hurry up.”

He jotted down the address quickly, and the two detectives ran out to the car.

“What’s wrong?” asked Katy as Lorne put Underhill’s address into the Sat Nav.

She put her foot down, leaving a trail of dust behind her as she exited the car park before responding. “Don’t you find it odd that he should give us a name one day and not turn up for work the next?”

Katy shrugged, picking up on her meaning. “I suppose so.”

After arriving at Underhill’s address, Lorne noticed that the curtains were drawn. She rang the bell on the mid-terraced cottage and stood back to see if the curtains twitched. They did. Lorne gave the man a few minutes to answer. When he neglected to, she kept her finger pressed on the brass doorbell for a count of ten before letting go. Still no answer.

Calling through the letterbox, Lorne warned, “If this door isn’t opened within thirty seconds, Mr. Underhill, we’ll break it down.”

Counting in her head, she made it to twenty-seven before they heard the chain being unlatched. The door creaked open barely two inches and a croaky voice asked, “What do you want, Inspector?”

Not liking how the man sounded, Lorne gently pushed against the door and gasped when she saw the state he was in. It looked like the trip downstairs had sapped all his strength. Leaning against the hall wall, his head back and knees bent, Underhill groaned noisily.

“Katy, quick! Help me support him.”

With the detectives either side of him, almost carrying him, they eased their way down a narrow hallway and into a monochrome lounge. They lowered Underhill into a brown leather sofa and stepped back.

Her heart went out to him. Both his eyes were black and doubled in size and his nose was clearly broken. He had a patch of first-aid gauze taped to his right ear, but the blood had seeped through and turned the material deep maroon. He was partially clothed; his trousers were covered in blood, too. Lorne guessed the blood was from the injuries to his face and ear, but it didn’t stop her being concerned that he’d suffered further injuries to his legs.

Lorne reached forward and lifted his vest up. His whole stomach was rainbow-coloured. “Ouch! Philip, who did this?”

His swollen, shaking hand moved gingerly to his vest and tugged it back down. Through thick lips, cracked in several places, he croaked, “I can’t tell you.”

“You have to tell me.” Turning to Katy, she ordered, “Go and find me a jacket and a shirt, will you?”

She watched Katy leave the room with her head down, deep in thought, and wondered if the sergeant was thinking of her own predicament and how it could’ve been her looking like this. Whoever had beaten Underhill black and blue meant business, not a warning. The attack was a ‘You screwed up big time’ message, with an underlying threat that the next time he said or did something out of place, he’d end up in the mortuary.

Lorne perched on the sofa beside him, placed a finger under his chin to make him look at her. “We can get you help, Philip. Put you in the witness protection programme if need be.”

Pulling his chin from her grasp, he shook his head—gently, as if he feared the damage a more vigorous effort might entail. “It’s because I spoke to you in the first place that I’m in this mess.”

That was all she needed to know. Rising from the chair, Lorne left the room and called the station on her mobile.

“AJ, it’s me. Drop what you’re doing. I want you to go and pick up Zac Murray for me. Take a couple of uniforms with you for backup.”

“Okay, ma’am. Am I picking him up for questioning or what?”

“Questioning at the moment for GBH. We’re at Underhill’s house, and Zac’s given him a pasting. Let me know when you’ve got him.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get onto it straight away.”

“And, AJ? Let DS Fox know that we’re on our way to the hospital. We’ll be back ASAP.”

“Will do. Be in touch soon, I hope.”

Katy came down the stairs as Lorne flipped her phone shut. “Are you all right?”

“Better than him, anyway,” Katy said, nodding her head in the direction of the lounge. “Any idea who did it?”

“Yep, Zac. I’ve just rung base to bring him in.”

“If they can find him. What’s the betting he’s gone underground?”

Lorne exhaled, turned to walk back into the lounge, and muttered, “I hope for Underhill’s sake, he hasn’t.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A
fter spending most of
the afternoon at Accident and Emergency with Underhill, the two detectives returned to the station. The minute she walked into the incident room, Lorne could tell AJ was about to deliver some bad news.

“AJ?”

He shook his head and said regretfully, “He wasn’t at home, ma’am. We don’t have a workplace listed for him either. We searched the area and asked around, but no one had a clue where he was or where he hangs out.”

“It’s a long shot, but did you try the pub? The Cross Keys, I mean?”

By the time she was halfway through her question, he was already nodding and looking dejected.

She thumped her thigh and slumped down on the edge of the desk behind her. “Okay, issue uniform with his description. I want him tracked down ASAP. He’s the key to this case. That much is evident.”

“Will do. Umm…‌The chief wanted a word when you returned.”

She pushed off the desk and headed up the hallway to Roberts’ office. Margaret nodded for her to go straight in, and Lorne gave a brief smile in return before she entered the office.

“Ah, Lorne. How’s it going?”

“Slowly. I believe Zac Murray battered the bloke at the security firm for talking to us.”

“Did he say that?”

“Not directly, no. He was too scared to. He did tell me he was in enough trouble for talking to me already. My assumption is that Zac paid him a visit.”

“Is it serious?”

“After sitting in A&E with him, they took him down for surgery. He has a couple of busted ribs and fibula. Plus a broken nose and cheek bone.”

“Someone meant business, then. Will he talk if we assure his safety?”

Lorne shrugged. “I’m not sure. I tried the hook of the witness programme, but there wasn’t an ounce of interest. Can’t say I blame him, really. The programme has had some bad press recently, hasn’t it?”

“I suppose you’re right. Is the team out looking for this Zac?”

“They’ve just returned. Been out there for a good three or four hours and drawn numerous blanks.”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up soon, and when he does, we’ll be waiting for him.”

Lorne raised her eyebrows. “Are you sanctioning overtime, sir?”

“If it means getting a violent criminal who sounds like he’s a loose cannon off our streets, then yes.”

Surprised, she turned to leave.

“Just one thing before you go, Lorne.”