No Hiding Place: An edge of your seat mystery/thriller. (DI Sally Parker thrillers Book 2) (25 page)

“No. Leave it to me. I have
evidence bags here. I’ll gather what you need and deliver them to
you myself first thing. Thanks, Simon, have a good evening.”

“Not much hope of that. Three
car-crash victims just descended on me.”

“Oops… sorry. I’ll be in touch
soon.” She replaced the phone in its docking station and chewed on
her thumbnail. “Now, do we go out there and just pick up the
clothes, or do we bring Mark in for questioning tonight?”

“I don’t mind putting in some
overtime. Maybe run it past the chief first.”

She scraped back her chair and
rushed along the corridor to the chief’s office. He was just
leaving his office with his secretary. “Sir, glad I caught you. Can
you spare me two minutes, please?”

He turned to his secretary.
“You go ahead, Lyn. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Sally followed him into the
office. “Sorry, sir. I have a dilemma that I need to run past you.”
She told him what was on her mind.

“I see. How sure are you that
this man has committed these crimes, Inspector?”

“That’s the dilemma, sir—I’m
not. Everything keeps leading me to suspect Mark Whiting,
though.”

“Can you simply ask him to come
in for questioning in that case?”

“I could. But how do I get
around the issue of asking him to hand over his clothes for
examination?”

The chief tutted and clicked
his tongue. “Bluff it. Say that it’s a usual part of an enquiry. I
agree it’s a tough call. If you arrest him and he turns out to be
innocent, the complaints authority will drop the axe on your
neck.”

“Yes, sir. But then look at the
evidence we have already: two wives, both recently pregnant,
whether they knew it or not, killed either in the marital home or
within a few hundred metres of it, at least. That can be counted as
significant, surely?”

“It certainly sounds it to me.
Can you place his car at the original scene, perhaps through CCTV
footage or a witness account?”

“No, we never located the car
involved in Gemma Whiting’s murder.”

“Then I think you should tread
carefully. Bring him in for questioning, and this could all hinge
on the clothes. If he gives you permission to examine them there,
perhaps that proves his innocence. If he objects, then that should
raise a red flag.”

“Thank you, sir. Jack and I
will head over there now. I’ll let you know how things go in the
morning.”

“You do that. Good luck.”

Sally was deep in thought when
she re-entered the incident room. Something important was pricking
her mind enough to make her revisit the file sitting on her desk.
She flipped it open, and there it was—the infuriating missing piece
of the puzzle. Her heart pounded as she raced through the incident
room. “With me, Jack. Make it snappy. We’ve got a murderer to
arrest.”

“Why? Why do you always bloody
do this to me?” Jack complained, crossing his arms in the car
during the journey to Mark Whiting’s house.

“What? Keep you in suspense?
Because I love torturing you. Honestly, your face is always a
picture when I work out who the murderer is without letting you in
on the secret. That, in my book, is priceless.”

“You know what? Sometimes you
can be as sick as some of the psychos we hunt down on a daily
basis,” he mumbled grumpily.

Once the car had descended into
silence, Sally used the time to plan her approach. She was
confident enough to go right in there and make the arrest, but she
always enjoyed it when the murderers slipped up and revealed their
guilt.

The same two cars from before
were in the driveway when Sally pulled up at the Whiting house. She
glanced sideways as she passed, a satisfied smile threatening to
erupt. She kept it in check, keen not to give anything away to her
partner at this stage.

Mark Whiting welcomed them,
sore, red eyes the prominent feature of his pale face. “Inspector?”
he gasped. “You’ve found him? You’ve discovered who the burglar—I
mean,
killer
is?”

“Can we come in, Mr.
Whiting?”

He pushed open the door, and
Sally and Jack followed him through to the kitchen, where his
mother and Samantha were reading a book together. Yvette looked up,
frowning in puzzlement.

Sally smiled at the woman
caring for her granddaughter. “Samantha, sweetheart, can you go and
play in your room for a little bit while my partner and I talk to
Daddy and Grandma?”

Samantha swept up the book and
ran out of the room without uttering a word. Yvette looked miffed
by Sally’s interference of her precious time with her
granddaughter. “Why are you here?” Yvette demanded harshly.

“Well, for a start, I’ve come
to ask you all if you’ll give me the clothes you were wearing at
the time of Kathy’s death?” Sally asked, giving the woman a
smile.

“For what reason?” Mark asked,
taking a seat next to his mother.

“Purely for evidential
purposes. I received a call from SOCO, saying they had forgotten to
obtain the clothes when they were here. I told them I would drop by
on my way home this evening.”

“Evidence? You still suspect me
of carrying out these heinous crimes, don’t you?” Mark asked,
shaking his head in sheer disbelief.

“It’s merely part of the
investigation. If you object, Mark, then it will certainly raise
suspicions.”

“I have nothing to hide. My
clothes will be full of my wife’s blood because I held her, soothed
her until the paramedics arrived.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be sure to
note that down. How about you, Yvette?”

“How about me
what
?”
Yvette asked.

“Did you try to comfort Kathy
before Mark arrived?”

“No! I was too busy caring for
my granddaughter. The last thing I wanted was for her to see her
step-mother in that state.”

“Of course, we’ll still need
your clothes.”

“I don’t see why. I’ve already
told you—”

“For God’s sake, Mum, just do
it. I don’t want all this
bloody
hassle. Just give them what
they want so that I can grieve in peace, for fuck’s sake,” Mark
said, his eyes boring into his defiant mother’s.

“Where are your clothes,
Yvette?” Sally asked.

“Upstairs. I frequently stop
over, so I keep a few spare outfits in Samantha’s wardrobe. Little
girls are known to be accident-prone at times, Inspector. It’s
always best to be prepared for such incidents.”

Sally pondered why the woman
would need to go into detail like that. She smiled and nodded.
“Very wise. Are you intending to stay the night here with
Samantha?”

“Yes, of course.”

“That’s great. Mark, I’d like
you to accompany us to the station to answer a few more questions,
if you’re up to it?”

“I’m not. But if it’ll help in
your quest to capture the murderer quickly, then I’m willing to put
myself out to help your cause.”

“That’s kind of you. It makes
our job so much easier having compliant interviewees. One question,
if I may?”

Mark inclined his head. “What’s
that?”

“The cream car outside, who
does it belong to?” Sally’s eyes left Mark and drifted sideways in
his mother’s direction.

“That’s Mum’s car. Why?”

Yvette pushed her chair back
and tucked it under the table. “I’ll go and get the clothes you
need. They’re all in the washing basket. I didn’t have the heart to
do the washing today. Samantha needed me.”

Sally nodded and let the woman
leave the room. “I don’t remember your mother’s car being here when
we were investigating Gemma’s death. Is it new?”

“I told her after the crash she
had around six months ago that she should get a new car, but she
insisted she wanted to keep it as it’s a good runner.”

“A crash, you say? Did someone
run into the back of her car perhaps?” Sally asked innocently.

“No.
She
ran into the
back of someone else’s car.”

“Oh, dear, that’s a shame. Did
the insurance cover the cost of repairs?”

Mark shrugged. “I can’t
remember. I think she covered the cost herself rather than lose her
no-claims bonus.”

“That makes sense.” Sally heard
the woman’s footfall on the stairs and watched the door, waiting
for her to enter. Instead, the front door creaked open. Sally’s
eyes widened as she stared at her partner. “Go after her,
Jack.”

“What? Why?” her partner asked,
confused.

“Just do it! Before she gets
away. Drag her back in here if you have to. Go!”

Jack bolted from the room.
Sally heard a car start up on the drive and Jack shouting at the
woman to get out of the car.

“What in God’s name are you
doing?” Mark objected, running into the hall.

“Come with me. Ask your mother
to return to the house, Mark.”

They ran outside to see Jack
gripping the car door as the vehicle reversed off the drive. Inside
the car sat a seething Yvette, with Samantha strapped into the seat
beside her, looking scared.

“Mum, what are you doing? Get
out of the car. Where are you taking Samantha?” Mark tried to
grapple with Jack to get into the car himself, but it was
pointless.

Yvette achieved her aim,
reversed off the drive, and crunched into first gear.

“Stop her!” Sally shouted.
Yvette’s smile was akin to many evil smiles she’d witnessed from
killers over the years. “Stop the car before she drives off with
Samantha. Jack, use your knife. Puncture the damn tyre. Do
not
let her escape.”

Jack withdrew the penknife
Sally knew he kept in his waistband for emergencies and pierced a
large hole in the rear tyre closest to him. It didn’t prevent
Yvette from driving off as Sally had predicted it would. Jack ran
after the car while Sally turned to a bemused Mark. “You had no
idea your mother was capable of this?”

Not taking his eyes off the
car, he replied, “Do you really think I would have left my child in
her care if I’d known?”

The car turned into another
road, and almost immediately, Sally heard a crunching noise. She
and Mark sprinted and caught up with Jack, who was staring at the
two mangled cars, one of which was empty. “Jack! Are they all
right? Do we need to call an ambulance? Get in there and help them!
Thank God no one else was involved.”

Jack tried to open the driver’s
door, but that was impossible, as it had concertinaed in the
collision.

Mark was pounding on the
passenger window. “Open this door, Mum, or I’ll break the window.
Let me get Samantha to safety.”

The passenger door sprang open,
and a sobbing Samantha shot out of the car and into her father’s
arms.

“Take her inside the house,
Mark,” Sally ordered, not wishing the girl to see what was about to
happen to her grandmother.

Jack held open the passenger
door and peered inside the car. “Give it up, Yvette. Taking off
like that has just proven your guilt.”

Yvette clambered across the
front seats and emerged from the car, reaching an arm out in front
of her. “Samantha, I love you. I did all this for you!”

Mark upped his pace and quickly
disappeared around the corner.

“Really? You can’t help
yourself, can you? Even at the end, your twisted mind has to
apportion the blame elsewhere. You really think your grandchild
will be able to live a happy life hearing those damning words?”
Sally asked the woman.

Yvette’s expression was one of
complete and utter confusion. “It’s true. Those women wanted to
take Samantha away from me. They had no
right
to do
that.”

“No
right
? So you
thought you’d punish not only Gemma and Kathy, but their unborn
children, as well. Was that the trigger? Once you found out both of
them were expecting, you thought you’d punish them?”

With Yvette suddenly lost for
words, her head dipped onto her chest. Sally threw her arms out to
the side in frustration. “You disgust me. Jack, read her rights to
her and get her out of my bloody sight.”

Jack withdrew his cuffs. Sally
turned and walked back towards the house to check on Mark and
Samantha. When she walked into the kitchen, she found Samantha
sitting on her father’s lap. Both were clinging to each other,
sobbing.

“You’re safe now, Samantha.
Daddy will look after you now,” Sally said, relieved that neither
of them had been harmed physically by his mother’s shenanigans.

“Why? Why did she do it?” Mark
asked, looking up at Sally, his eyes riddled with anguish.

“Let me get your mother to the
station. I’ll let her stew overnight in a cell and question her
first thing. Try and get some rest. I regret thinking this was all
down to you, Mark.”

“What changed?” he asked.

“Something my boss said earlier
about the car involved in Gemma’s death. Today was the first time
I’ve seen your mother’s car. It wasn’t here when we investigated
the first case, so I couldn’t make the connection. Obviously, I’ll
need to get forensics to check the car over, but even if it has
been repaired, we can still find evidence to convict someone. We
still have Gemma’s car to match up the paintwork. Can you tell me
which garage your mother uses?”

“Yes, Jenson’s garage in town.”
He ran a hand over his daughter’s face. “Do you think she would
have eventually turned on me?”

Sally shrugged. “I have no
idea. She is overly obsessed with Samantha for some reason. There’s
no telling what she would have been capable of, come the end. Try
to rest now, both of you. I’ll be in touch soon, okay? By the way,
you might want to let your brother know what’s going on, just to
put his and Leona’s minds at ease.”

“I will. I think I have a lot
of making up to do there. I know he and Gemma… well, you know. But
I’m willing to forgive and forget about that and get on with our
lives. Gemma’s death has always been a wedge between us.”