My Bloody Valentine (Alastair Gunn) (22 page)

Frank’s comment didn’t help. ‘Two kiddie-killers and a murderess? Sounds like he’s done us a favour.’

‘You may think so,’ Hunter was quick to respond, ‘but the Judge might not have intervened had his victims served full terms.’ He explained each set of
extenuating circumstances, and the relative shortening of each penalty.

When he’d finished, Hawkins pointed to the e-fit she’d attached to the investigation board earlier that day. ‘This composite image was constructed from descriptions given by residents living near yesterday’s murder scene. Unfortunately, no one, including the tenant whose building overlooks the courtyard where Hayes was murdered, saw anything on the night he died, but several neighbours noticed this man apparently following Hayes along the same route to and from his local off-licence the two previous nights. This picture has already appeared on the news channels, along with our statement, so hopefully someone out there will click.’

She went on: ‘Frank and Amala, your first job is to show this e-fit to everyone we’ve already interviewed about Calano or Philips. Maybe one of them knows who he is; maybe one of them hired him and will give themselves away. Aaron, work with Steve on Hayes’ past, especially any potential connections to the others, or common enemies they might have had. Frank, use your contacts to come up with a list of murder or manslaughter convicts due to be released in the next fortnight. Mike and I will look at similar parolees released in the last three weeks. If we can identify his next target in advance, we’ll have a shot at protecting them, plus an opportunity to bag this killer in the process.’

‘Don’t forget’ – Hawkins scanned the faces around her – ‘all the victims were in London-based prisons, so restrict your efforts to the capital for now. Focus on anyone in for murder or manslaughter and, more specifically, anyone whose term was adjusted down at any stage.’ Feet began to shuffle, so she raised her voice. ‘One more thing. We have no idea
when
he’ll strike again, so I want you all on this full time till it breaks. Drop whatever else you’ve got on. Let me know if there’s anything urgent, and I’ll clear it with the SIO on each case.’

There were nods and muted dialogue as the team rose.

Hawkins turned and headed for her office, followed by Maguire. Lines of inquiry flooded her mind, so many that she nearly lost track. She was out of practice and out of sorts, but she welcomed the fact that her instincts seemed to have returned at last, and intended to put them to full use. She was holding it together so far, and her confidence was rebuilding itself, both of which were good news.

Because, whatever she’d done to deserve it, Hawkins wasn’t going to let her second chance at becoming permanent DCI slip.

41

The knock came later that morning.

‘Come in.’ Hawkins glanced up from some notes as Steve Tanner opened her office door.

‘Antonia.’ He stepped inside. ‘Can we talk?’

She motioned to the chairs in front of her desk. ‘Please.’

Tanner strode across and sat, resting an elbow on the desk between them. He wore the usual confident smirk, except this one seemed a little more forced. Briefly, Hawkins wondered if he’d timed his visit to catch her alone, having seen Maguire exit, chasing a file from the archives, moments ago.

‘One second.’ She finished her annotation. ‘Sorry about that. What can I do for you?’

Tanner’s smile widened. ‘I was hoping we could spend some time together this afternoon.’

She hid a frown. ‘How do you mean?’

‘I’ve been watching you.’ He leaned closer, his tone rich, almost musical. ‘I have to say, I’m impressed.’

‘Thanks, but you’ll need to be a little more specific.’

‘Well’ – Tanner sat back, hands clasping in his lap – ‘I’ve been around for a few days now. I’m getting to know the team, and I wouldn’t be here unless I picked
things up fast but, ultimately, I want to learn from
you
, having heard so many positive things about your work, and so far we haven’t really been joined at the hip.’

‘I see.’ She nodded, giving herself a moment to think. In one respect he was right, they hadn’t exactly been working
side by side
, but after Mike had convinced her to give him a fair chance, she
had
expected Tanner to earn his place on the fast track by doing a bit of legwork first. ‘I thought you’d want to start with the basics – get involved with the mechanics of an investigation.’

Tanner sniffed. ‘Of course, but I’d like to think I’ve done that now. You’ve been happy with my performance so far, haven’t you?’

‘Actually, yes, you’ve acquitted yourself well.’ She was going to expand on her compliment, about how impressed she’d been with his insight and efficiency.

But he cut her off. ‘Then let’s move things up a notch. What I really need to see is the high-level stuff, like your chat this morning with the profiler.’

‘I understand that,’ Hawkins answered carefully. ‘But the issue here isn’t one of experience or enthusiasm. I’m sure you understand these meetings are high level for a reason: we minimize numbers to maintain confidentiality, especially in cases where media interest is high.’ She drummed her fingers on the desk. ‘But I’ll make sure we get to work more closely in the next few days. Once we know each other a bit better, I’ll talk to the DCS about involving you in some restricted meetings, okay?’

The
corners of Tanner’s smile dropped ever so slightly and the dark eyes above it narrowed. ‘If I didn’t know better, Antonia, I’d say you were fobbing me off.’

She shook her head. ‘Not at all. Although perhaps I underestimated how quickly you’d settle in.’

‘Apology accepted. So let’s get started. What are you working on now?’

This time she let her frown show. ‘That wasn’t an apology, and I think you need to respect the chain of command.’

‘Oh, come on, Antonia.’ He leaned back, crossing his arms. ‘I’m all for equality, but we both know what’s going on here. Surely you recognize a handover when you’re being asked to give one.’

She stared at him for a moment, determined not to shout. ‘I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed.’

‘Really?’ He stood. ‘Then perhaps you don’t know Tristan or this organization as well as you think. General consensus among command is that you’re on thin ice, so it won’t take much for someone to extract that DCI badge from your delicate little grip, especially if they were to beat you to bringing this killer in.’ He paused, letting his implication hang.

Hawkins stood, too, wincing internally, meeting his gaze. ‘People have underestimated my grip before. And I think it’s about time you left.’

He gave a terse nod before moving away, pausing at the door to look back. ‘Consider yourself warned.’

42

Bull emptied the envelope and spread everything out on the table, carefully lining up the sheets of paper so nothing overlapped. His eyes moved over the different stories, catching words here and there among the text. ‘Death’. ‘Victim’.

‘
Sentenced
’
.

And, across the newspaper clippings, in all the photos taken from the web, the same face.

The same murderer.

He noticed the release date, but it had already passed. He had been at the gates when his next victim had first walked free. Since then he’d been watching, learning his target’s habits. Soon it would be time to strike.

He sat back, reaching for his latest carving. He turned the lime-wood figure over in his hands, checking his work. The body was good, but the face needed more shape.

He picked up the scalpel and took a few slivers off the nose, used the knife edge to slim the cheeks. He nodded to himself. He
was
being critical, but this was the best likeness yet.

As he worked, his eyes flicked back and forth between the figure and the papers on the table. Each
time he’d catch another word, memorize another part of his target’s face. He imagined the hammer making contact, the soft jerk as its head dug in. Putting out the lights.

But, tonight, something felt wrong. He swallowed, trying to hold back the pressure building in his mind. It was dark outside, but the daytime confusion was still there, working away at the corners of his vision, trying to close him down. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

Don’t let the past fuck you up.

He forced himself to relax, got his breathing under control and went back to carving. That’s how he worked. Take in the target, their face, their
crime
. Let the anger build. But at the same time make something new, something
good
. It balanced his feelings, allowed him to think.

He moved on to the figure’s jaw, trimming layers off the underside. Then he looked up, read another word.

‘
Jail
’
.

Suddenly, his hands were shaking, the ringing in his ears was getting loud, the blackness closing in. His fists clenched but he forced them open, dropping the knife and the figure on the table before bringing his hands to his head, trying to hold in what sanity was left.

The tears were building, so he shut his eyes, fighting them back.
Mistake
. There was Cheshire – smiling, happy. That stupid fucking grin.

Bull
looked back at the table, reaching for the largest picture, bringing it close. Staring at a killer’s face.

They
deserved
to die.

So why was he questioning himself? All his victims had caused someone else’s death. While they were still around, the pain for everyone lived on. But the feeling remained, something in the back of his mind, telling him to stop. Was it right to end another life? Had the deaths so far changed anything?

It’s just your mind making sure.

He kept on staring, reminding himself that the circle needed to be closed. These people hadn’t paid for their crimes. The law wasn’t going to punish them properly, so that job fell to someone else. They had unpaid debt, but if Bull didn’t go after them, nobody would.

His penalty was to hand out justice.

Their penalty was death.

43

‘Fuck, it’s freezing.’ Hawkins rubbed her palms together, watching her breath curl away into the rapidly darkening air. The charcoal clouds hanging above London’s South Bank meant it was probably warmer than it should have been, but temperatures had still nosedived.

‘How about we lay off the swearing?’ Mike edged closer and put his arm around her. ‘We’re meant to be in love.’

‘I’m in character.’ She shrugged him off. ‘
Mrs? M
aguire thought we were going to Barbados.’

He laughed. ‘Maybe next year. My boss says I’m due a raise.’

Hawkins shoved him, watching as a couple who had been cuddling on one of the other benches stood and wandered past, heading for the garden area beyond, where manicured hedges framed concentric circular paths. They stopped a short distance away, this time for a mid-stroll clinch.

‘Anyway,’ Mike said quietly, ‘who needs the Caribbean? We’re due some quality time at home. Did you talk to your dad about moving out yet?’

‘I …
raised the subject.’ She hadn’t.

‘And?’

‘I think he was more interested in
I’m a Celebrity …
’

Mike frowned. ‘Even on the commercial breaks? Come on, Toni, it’s been nearly a week.’ There was real concern in his eyes.

‘He’s an old man.’ She fumbled. ‘You have to approach these things with care.’

Mike’s grimace deepened. ‘That’s all it is?’

‘Of course.’ She reached for his hand. ‘Please don’t think it’s you.’

He seemed to accept that. ‘I just hate to think we might not make it, especially after what happened. You feel the same way, right?’

‘Yes.’ She rested her forehead on his.

‘And you’ll talk to your dad again.’

‘Yes.’

They kissed and embraced, Hawkins staring past Mike’s shoulder along the Embankment, deep in thought. Up ahead, the Oxo Tower disappeared into the mist hanging over the promenade, and beyond it Blackfriars Bridge stretched out across a Thames that, after recent heavy rain, was higher than she’d seen it in a while. She could hear the dirty brown water lapping against the near bank, backed by the calls of London’s resident seagulls. Three hundred yards away on the opposite side, a large grey warship edged into dock. And, in the distance, St Paul’s Cathedral rose elegantly
above the surrounding architecture. Lights were already beginning to dot some of the buildings. But there was still no sign of their man.

She asked, ‘What time is it?’

‘Nearly five.’ Mike blew into cupped hands. ‘How long are we giving this guy?’

Hawkins watched a businessman in a well-bred suit sashay past. ‘As long as it takes. Stay alert.’

‘You’re the boss.’ Mike buttoned his coat up to the neck. ‘At least if he shows we won’t miss him. Even you blue-blooded Brits are staying home today.’

Hawkins nodded. Thanks to the arctic weather that had superseded the capital’s first white Christmas in decades, remarkably few people were braving the South Bank that afternoon. Which was good news, because, if their target made an appearance, he’d be easier to spot. Lucas Dean was on the list of murder and manslaughter convicts released from London prisons in the last two weeks. But he was also the only one they hadn’t been able to find.

Since the previous morning, when Hawkins had instructed her team to round up every recent homicide parolee in the capital, fifteen ex-cons had been identified, traced and approached. Of those, the eight whose sentences had been subject to mitigation and were therefore most likely to be at risk, had been offered safe-house accommodation. Hawkins had enlisted Simon Hunter to help her pick out the cases with the highest chance of being targeted, based on the crimes
of the Judge’s previous victims. The resulting group included a religious extremist who had brutally murdered three followers of a rival faith, a football hooligan who had mown down a bus stop full of opposing fans, killing two, and a truck driver who had killed a young family of immigrants by trying to smuggle them through Customs in the back of his refrigerated truck.