The Night Stalker (31 page)

I
t was raining lightly
over the back garden, and the early morning sky hung grey. Moss and Peterson huddled with Erika in the doorway of her patio window, eating croissants and drinking coffee.

The newspapers were strewn on the floor around them.

‘Now this is what I call a proper British summer: stuck indoors staring out at the rain and pretending to have fun,’ said Moss. It was the first time she and Peterson had seen Erika since Simone had been arrested four days before. ‘That last bit was a joke,’ she added.

‘Thanks for bringing all this over,’ said Erika, lifting up her takeaway cup of coffee.

‘We’re just glad you’re okay, boss,’ said Peterson, bumping his cup against hers.

‘I got punched. I’ve been through worse,’ said Erika.

‘You’ve got quite a shiner, though,’ said Moss, looking at the large purple bruise decorating Erika’s eye and cheek.

‘I’ve never felt more disturbed or conflicted about a killer,’ said Erika. ‘When they took her off on the stretcher, she called for me… Her eyes were full of fear. She said she wanted me to go in the ambulance with her and hold her hand. And I nearly did. Crazy…’

They sipped their coffee.

‘Well, I’m glad you didn’t, boss,’ said Moss. ‘You remember what happened at the end of
The Silence of the Lambs
? Those people who got in the ambulance with Hannibal Lecter.’

Peterson gave her a look.

‘What? I’m trying to lighten the mood here,’ said Moss.

Erika smiled.

‘It’s like they’re all competing for a name to give Simone Matthews,’ said Peterson, grabbing one of the newspapers off the floor. ‘The Angel of Death… The Night Stalker… The Night Owl’.

‘What was angelic about her?’ asked Moss, taking a gulp of coffee.

‘
The Sun
has her pictured in her nurse’s uniform,’ replied Peterson, holding up a picture of Simone posing with a group of nurses in a staff kitchen. The nurses at the front were holding a giant cheque for three hundred pounds, money they had raised for Children in Need. Simone was to the left of the group, grinning and holding the cheque. ‘The NHS Trust is now panicking that she’s been bumping off patients, terrified of a lawsuit, I’ve no doubt.’

‘I don’t think she did bump any patients off. She was focused on who she wanted to kill,’ said Erika. She picked up the
Daily Express
and looked at the article that had disturbed her most. It was Jack Hart’s original account of Simone’s mother, reproduced with details of Simone’s murder spree.

Simone had been brought up in Catford, in a grotty top-floor flat. Her mother, also called Simone, had been a prostitute and drug addict. After several concerned phone calls from neighbours, police had broken in to find that Simone’s mother had been keeping her daughter tied to the radiator in the bathroom. The young Jack Hart had been with the police when they’d broken in. The photo that broke Erika’s heart was of a small, hollow-cheeked girl with bare feet, wearing what looked like a grubby pillowcase. One of her thin arms was tied to a grotty, yellowing radiator and she was looking up at the camera with large, confused eyes.

‘She didn’t have a chance, did she? She just wanted to be loved… To have someone to love.’

‘Come on, boss, you’ll start me off again,’ said Moss, grabbing Erika’s hand. Peterson reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of tissues, handing her one.

‘You always have tissues,’ said Erika, wiping her eyes.

‘He just does it so he can chat up tearful women,’ said Moss.

Peterson rolled his eyes and grinned.

‘Anyway,’ said Erika, recovering her composure, ‘it’s not all bad. You got Gary Wilmslow…’

‘I didn’t get him. I was in control when it happened,’ said Peterson. ‘Armed police swooped on the lock-up in Beckton. They arrested Wilmslow and six associates about to move the hard drives containing images and videos of level-four child pornography, and twelve thousand DVDs containing level-four child porn ready for distribution in Europe.’

‘You think they can nail the bastards and make it stick?’ asked Moss.

‘I hope so,’ said Peterson.

‘How do you think Penny Munro is doing?’ asked Erika.

‘It can’t be easy. First her husband and all this, and then her brother,’ said Peterson.

‘And what about little Peter? How could this screw him up for the future?’ said Erika. They looked back at the photos of the young and old Simone.

Moss looked at her watch. ‘Come on, we should get going. We don’t want to be late for this briefing at the nick,’ grinned Moss.

‘Did Marsh give you any idea why we’ve all be called in?’

‘No, I think it’s going to be a final briefing on the results of the Simone Matthews case,’ said Erika.

‘I have a feeling it’s going to be a bit more than that, boss,’ said Peterson. ‘I think you’re about to get an almighty pat on the back!’

W
hen they arrived
at Lewisham Row station, they were told to go down to the incident room. It was crowded, and Erika, Moss and Peterson only managed to say a quick hello to some of the team and find a space at the back before Sparks and Marsh appeared at the front. Finally, Assistant Commissioner Oakley entered, with three officers carrying bottles of soft drinks and plastic cups.

‘Can I have your attention, PLEASE!’ shouted Oakley. He stood at the front, immaculate in his uniform, with his hair neat and his braided cap held against his chest. The vast row of whiteboards behind him was empty. The room fell silent. ‘This has been quite a week for the Metropolitan Police. I’d like to thank you all for achieving the impossible. Yesterday morning, officers working on Operation Hemslow broke one of the UK’s biggest underground paedophile networks. Over sixty-seven thousand images of abused children and twelve thousand DVDs have been seized, along with Gary Wilmslow and six associates who the Met have had under surveillance for over a year.’

There were whoops and clapping from the officers. Moss grinned and slapped Peterson on the back.

‘And I haven’t finished!’ said Oakley. ‘Thanks to the hard work from DCI Sparks’ team in association with Detective Chief Superintendent Marsh’s division, we have caught the Night Stalker! Simone Matthews has been arrested for the murders of Gregory Munro, Jack Hart, Stephen Linley and Keith Hardy.’

There was another round of applause from the officers in the incident room. Erika caught Marsh’s eye. He leant over and said something to Oakley, who added, ‘And of course we are very grateful to DCI Erika Foster, who was in the right place at the right time, or should that be the wrong place! We hope you continue to make a full recovery.’ He looked vaguely in her direction. The officers in the incident room began to turn to Erika, but Oakley went on.

‘And finally, I have the pleasure to announce that in the light of these admirable results there will be several promotions. Firstly, I would like to introduce you to our new commander, Commander Paul Marsh!’

Everyone applauded as Marsh made a show of being sheepish and muttered his thanks.

Then Oakley stepped forward again. ‘I would also like to announce a further promotion. In light of his many achievements, both on this case and others, DCI Sparks will be promoted, and from now on known as Superintendent Sparks.’

Oakley led the applause and Sparks beamed and stepped forward, giving a grand, over-ironic bow. A plastic cup was shoved into Erika’s hand. She looked around the room at Moss and Peterson, who looked dismayed.

‘I propose a toast. To results,’ said Oakley.

‘To results,’ repeated everyone in the room, raising their plastic cups.

‘Now I encourage you all to eat, drink and be merry!’ cried Oakley.

There were whistles and a round of applause, but Erika didn’t join in. She was furious. She pushed her way through the crowds of officers to where Marsh stood at the front.

‘Sir, a word please,’ she snapped.

‘Erika, can it wait?’ asked Marsh.

‘No, it can’t,’ she said loudly. Oakley and Sparks looked over from where they were talking. Sparks gave her a nasty smirk and raised his cup to her.

M
arsh followed
Erika outside the incident room and into one of the adjacent empty offices.

‘What the hell was that?’ she said.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I led you all to Simone Matthews. I did all the legwork on this case. And if you haven’t forgotten, sir, DCI – sorry,
Superintendent
Sparks – was taken off the last major murder investigation case for incompetence! I solved this case!’

‘I have no control over decisions made by Oakley.’

‘But you did know a promotion was in the offing, didn’t you? And you’ve kept me at arm’s length. Kept me away, strung me along, made me do all the dirty work!’

Marsh then lost it. ‘Do you know how frustrating it is to see how you operate, Erika?’

‘Don’t call me Erika, we are NOT friends! I am a police officer who—’

‘You were a great officer, Erika, really great, once. But you continue to go against orders, against protocol… Now you’re just…’

‘I’m just what?’

Marsh looked at her for a long moment.

‘You think you have this incredible instinct, but it’s blind luck and stupidity. You’re a vigilante. And you’re on borrowed time. And because of that, you’ll remain DCI Foster. In light of what happened, of you defying orders, refusing to take leave when I ordered you to, I couldn’t recommend you for promotion.’

Erika gave Marsh a long, hard look. ‘Well, I am not sticking around here to take orders from Superintendent Sparks. You’ll have my letter putting in for a transfer first thing tomorrow morning.’

‘Hang on… transfer? Erika!’ said Marsh, but she turned and left the office, walking off down the corridors and out of Lewisham Row station.

I
t was a warm
, sunny day. Erika stepped out of her car. She took off her sunglasses and looked at the small door within a door at the huge Victorian gates of Belmarsh Prison.

She leant on the roof of the car and saw that it was twelve minutes past eleven. He was late.

Moments later, the small door opened with a squeak. Isaac stepped out and looked around him, taking in the clear blue sky, the silence and Erika.

He had a brown paper bag in one hand and his suit jacket over the other arm. He walked towards her, through the gates and out onto the street. They hugged for a long time without saying anything.

‘All charges dropped. I told you so,’ said Erika with a grin.

‘You didn’t tell me so,’ he answered wryly. ‘And why did it take so long?’

‘Forensics. You know what your lot is like. They take ages. Simone Matthews gave them a full confession, but they had to ensure it was her DNA at the Jack Hart murder scene. Moss and Peterson have been keeping me in the loop.’

‘I keep thinking someone is going to come out and tell me it’s a terrible mistake and I’m…’ Isaac put a hand to his face.

‘It’s okay. You’ve been cleared. And you keep your licence to practise medicine.’

Isaac stood for a moment, breathing in the air. Then he opened the car door and got in. Erika went round to the driver’s side and climbed in beside him.

‘What did you mean, Moss and Peterson have been keeping you in the loop?’ asked Isaac. ‘I thought you solved the case?’

‘I did. It’s a long story. The short version is that I’ve put in for a transfer. And I’m taking a break.’

‘A transfer. Where?’

‘I don’t know yet. Marsh is trying to talk me out of it. Hence the break… For the first time in years, I just want to take my foot off the gas. Work out what it’s like to be a normal person,’ said Erika.

‘Let me know when you find out,’ said Isaac, wryly.

They drove away and rode in silence. Isaac put his head back and closed his eyes. A short while later, he noticed they were driving along the high street in Shirley.

‘Why have we come this way?’ he asked.

Erika pulled into a space a little way up from Penny Munro’s house. In the front garden, Penny was standing with a white face, watching little Peter as he held the hose, watering the lawn. He put his thumb on the end of the hose and laughed in delight as the water sprayed back over them both.

‘He’s such a nice kid. Do you think he’ll be okay?’ asked Erika as they watched.

‘Honestly, who knows? You’ve got to have faith that good will win out,’ said Isaac.

‘He’s so young to lose his father, and now the memory of his uncle is forever destroyed.’

Isaac put his hand on hers.

‘You can’t save the world, Erika.’

‘But I could do a better job trying,’ she said, wiping away a tear.

‘You saved me. And for that I’ll be forever grateful,’ Isaac replied. They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching as Peter started to spray Penny with the hose, chasing her around the garden until she burst out laughing and grabbed him, showering him with kisses.

‘What are you going to do?’ asked Isaac.

‘There’s a new baby in my family. I have a new niece.’

‘Congratulations. Your sister, in Slovakia, yeah?’

‘Yes. She named her after our mother and me. I was planning to go and visit.’

‘I’ve always wanted to visit Slovakia,’ said Isaac.

‘Would you want to come with me?’ asked Erika. ‘You could meet my crazy sister and her mafia husband, and then when we’ve had enough of them we could go visit the High Tatras, the hot springs, get drunk and forget about things for a bit.’

‘That sounds heavenly,’ grinned Isaac.

Erika put the car in gear and they pulled away, not thinking about the past or the future. For once, just enjoying the present.

F
irst of all
, I want to say a huge thank you to you for choosing to read
The Night Stalker
.
If you did enjoy it, I would be very grateful if you could write a review. It needn’t be long, just a few words, but it makes such a difference and helps new readers to discover one of my books for the first time.

I wrote in the back of the previous Erika Foster novel,
The Girl in the Ice
, that I would love to hear from you. Thank you for all the wonderful messages I’ve received. I’ve loved hearing from each and every one of you, and how much you loved the characters, and the story, and where you’d like to see this series go in the future. I particularly loved the very funny message from a lady who said she enjoyed the book immensely but wasn’t keen on Erika’s habit of smoking and stubbing out her dog ends in a tea cup! In this book I have tried to ensure that Erika, where possible, uses an ashtray. Keep the messages coming and thank you.

You can get in touch on my Facebook page, through Twitter, Goodreads or my website. I read every message and will always reply.

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There are lots more books to come, so I hope you’ll stay with me for the ride!

Robert Bryndza

• @RobertBryndza
  
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