The Sect (The Craig Crime Series) (34 page)

He thought for a moment and then shook his head in frustration, before turning back to what they already knew.

“OK, between them they knew the history of ancient religious sites, Vulgar Latin––”

“Courtesy of Rustin.”

So it was Rustin now, was it? Liam’s crushes dissolved faster than snow in the sun.

“And she knew about the Inquisition, boss, so she could have advised them on torture techniques.”

Craig nodded. “The three of them had access to Bobby McDonagh and, through Carlton’s contacts, Elena Boraks and possibly Sam Beech––”

Liam cut in again. “Beech went to a different therapist. Unless you’re saying Louise McIntyre’s involved?”

Craig went to say an emphatic no but shrugged instead. “I don’t think so, but we’ll need to make sure. She’s an unlikely candidate. Too young for one thing.”

“Agreed; less likely to be fanatical. And anyway, she’s Jewish.”

“I didn’t know that, but if that’s the case then it strengthens my no. No-one would get involved unless they believed in the cause religiously.”

Liam chortled. “Religiously. I like it.”

Craig ignored the joke and carried on. “OK, so McIntyre might not be involved but if social services is anything like this place, people talk, so Carlton could have learned about Sam Beech on the grapevine. That explains access to everyone but Devaney.”

Liam made a face that said he’d forgotten to report something. “Uniform at Antrim called a few hours ago.”

Craig’s eyes widened. “Another death?” Even as he said it he knew it couldn’t be right. Wrong county.

“Nope, but when they heard that we’d found Devaney dead they put two and two together. There was a rape in Moira on Saturday night and the victim I.D.ed Devaney from a photo array.”

Craig could hardly believe his ears. “So Devaney left prison on Tuesday, raped a woman on Saturday night and was dead by the following afternoon! They must have been watching him, but who the hell would have known that he was out?”

“And have his licence address.”

Neither of them said anything for a long time then Liam ventured something that Craig hadn’t wanted to hear again.

“Only a cop or a prison officer would have access to that information.”

Craig shook his head emphatically. He wasn’t ruling anything out but it was too easy a conclusion to draw. “Or someone at the probation service, or someone involved in getting Devaney’s benefits set up.”

Liam nodded. “OK. That takes us back to social services.”

“Maybe.”

“You mean hopefully, don’t you?”

“OK, hopefully. But I’m not blind to the possibilities, and if the trail leads to police corruption we’ll go there.”

Craig rose, signalling that the discussion was at an end.

“Fair enough.” Liam’s feet had been propped up on the desk, now he dropped them to the floor with a thud and leapt up. “Tailing Carlton and McDonagh has to be our best bet, but there’s no point tapping their phones or houses; the leader would have to be thick to fall for that.”

“Agreed.”

Craig yanked open the door, just in time to see Nicky straightening up ostentatiously from tying a shoe that had no lace. They smiled at her obvious eavesdropping.

“You back already, Nick?”

“Annette was doing fine and I’ve work to do.”

Eavesdropping counted as work in her book.

Craig re-entered his office as Liam headed for the lift. “I’m off to check on Jake and Andy.”

He was stopped in his tracks by Nicky making wild eyed movements towards her right hand side and did a double take at the sight of Sofia Emiliani. He would love to have stayed for the fireworks but duty called, so he loped off the floor just in time to hear Nicky announce to Craig that he had a visitor.

The psychiatrist rose went to enter Craig’s office, but he turned her instead towards a seat at Annette’s desk. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust himself alone with the beautiful doctor; rather that he didn’t want to give her any encouragement. His words were pleasant but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Did we have an appointment, Doctor Emiliani?”

She purred out a reply. “Not as such but I have some thoughts on the case.”

“Thank you for your expertise but it’s Doctor Winter you should be sharing it with rather than me.”

“But you are the boss. No?”

“Yes, but––”

“Then it is you.”

Craig shook his head. She was persistent, he’d give her that.

“I’m afraid that I don’t have time at the moment.”

She crossed her slim legs and rested back in her chair. “Then I wait until you do. Perhaps we could discuss over dinner.”

Craig could feel Nicky’s gaze boring a hole right through his back; Annette’s opinion was more visible as she appeared by the double doors. He seized his chance to escape and crossed the squad-room in two strides.

“Annette. The very person. Join me.”

With that she was back in the lift and hurtling down to reception. Neither of them had noticed Carmen and Ken arguing in the tenth floor stairwell, and given Craig’s recent warnings it was probably just as well. Carmen was standing with her arms crossed tight and her face turning a dark red.

“You always have to show me up, don’t you?”

Ken gazed down at her blankly, wondering what the hell he’d done wrong.

“What?”

“You just
had
to score brownie points by saying that you could work out where the girl had been held.” She jabbed a small finger into his chest. “I’m the cop, not you. It doesn’t matter whether people here respect you or not; you’ll be back on your stupid army base in four months. But it matters what they think of me and you’re making me look like an idiot.” She drew breath for a fresh assault, jabbing harder to make her point. “You’re always sucking up, always smiling…”

Ken’s face darkened and his normally soft voice turned cold. “Stop it, Carmen, before you say something that you’ll regret––”

Her voice rose to a screech. “Why the hell would I regret it? Because you think you love me? Is that it?” Her face twisted into a sneer and she pushed at his chest with both hands. “You’re so pathetic; running around the countryside playing soldiers like a kid! I’m sick of you––”

Ken stepped back just as a small fist swung through the air. He caught it in his hand and then caught the second as it headed for his ear. He stood; holding both of his petite girlfriend’s fists as she struggled to break free, then he shook his head sadly and let them drop. His voice was dull.

“You have a problem, Carmen, and you need help. I’d like to help if I can––”

She spat out her next words. “I don’t need your help. You’re weak; you’re all weak, always pretending to be nice. People aren’t nice; they suck you in and let you care about them, then they destroy you. Just like you’re trying to destroy my career.”

He turned to walk back to the C.C.U. and she grabbed at his arm, glaring up into his eyes. “I trusted you and you used me. You just wanted to pick my brains and learn how to be a cop. Well you’re not a cop and you never will be.” She turned sharply towards the lift and banged on the button. “I’m going for some air. When I get back I don’t want you anywhere near me and I never want to see you again outside work. We’re finished.”

As Ken watched the lift doors shut his shoulders drooped, but he knew that part of their fall was from relief. Much as he loved Carmen and had meant his offer of help, he’d been getting worn down lately by her moods. Part of him was relieved she’d dumped him; they couldn’t go on like this. He would help her as a friend as much as he could but for his sanity it had to be at a distance now. As he walked back into the squad-room hoping that the others hadn’t heard, he was wondering if he should tell Craig how serious her problems really were.

Ten floors down Craig had his own issues to deal with. He was striding across Barrow Square as Annette scrambled to catch up, and throwing questions back at her over his shoulder.

“Did the press conference go OK?”

“As you’d expect, sir. I asked them to be responsible in their reporting but I’m sure they didn’t listen to a word.”

“Any awkward questions?”

“A few, but I was prepared.”

Suddenly it started to rain and she ran for a doorway, leaving Craig talking to himself. He joined her beneath the building’s awning and she glanced at him with a smile twitching at her lips.

“I see the good doctor is back again.”

He laughed at her coy tone. “Don’t give me that look. I told her to go and see John, but she won’t take no for an answer.”

“That’s because she’s a woman on a mission and your no was too polite. Leave her to me.”

As she took out her phone his eyes widened.

“You’re not going to tell her to bugger off, are you?”

“Heaven forbid. I’m going to get Nicky to do it instead, in not so many words.”

A grumpy Nicky came on the line, recognising the number. “Where did you two disappear to?”

“Is Dr Emiliani still there?”

“Is she heck! She’s helping herself to my tea and biscuits, so tell himself to get back up here and deal with her. And tell him that Ken and Carmen have had a fight.”

Ken’s hope that no-one had heard their argument had reckoned without her bat-like ears.

Nicky’s voice was so loud that Craig heard every word she said. Annette stifled a laugh and shook her head at him not to speak.

“I don’t know where the boss is. He got a phone call and had to leave. He won’t be back in the office for hours.”

Nicky’s snort said that she didn’t believe a word of it.

“So just get rid of the lovely doctor, will you.”

Another snort, followed by a grudging reply. “I will this time, but tell him not to make a habit of it. And when I get my hands on Katy Stevens…”

She hung up without detailing what she would do to Katy and they returned to discussing the press conference. When the topic was exhausted Craig raised an eyebrow curiously.

“What was that about Carmen and Ken?”

Annette shook her head. “Lovers’ tiff. Best to stay out of it.”

He nodded; he really didn’t want to know. As they were walking back to the C.C.U. he actually did have a call. It was Andy, sounding out of breath.

“You need to get to the McDonagh house ASAP. Liam’s already there.”

Craig was about to ask for more details when the D.C.I. cut the call. Ten minutes later he was staring down at the body of Philip McDonagh, spread-eagled on his neat front lawn. A W.P.C. was calming his wife and T.J. was standing by a flowerbed, looking as if he’d completely shut down. Craig shook his head wearily.

“Let me guess. They dropped McDonagh as soon as he got out of the car.”

Liam sniffed in disdain at the clichéd nature of the kill.

“No finesse. Nine millimetre Parabellums. Two shots to the head.”

“Andy saw it?”

Liam nodded. “Just as well you put him on McDonagh’s tail; he saw the shooter. He was in a BMW five series.” The tyre track. “Andy took off after him and called me; I’ve traffic tailing them both at a distance.”

“Any joy on the car’s registration?”

“Nope. They’d removed the plates so we’re managing the tail on Andy’s car. They’re on the M1 heading south.”

Craig beckoned him into the street. “This is why McDonagh didn’t want to be released. He knew exactly what would happen to him.”

“Which must mean that it’s happened before.”

Craig nodded. “True, but we’ll have to wait to find out when.” He gestured to a C.S.I. leaning over the corpse. “They’re checking the bullet markings?”

“Once they get him to the morgue. It was definitely a professional hit.”

“The sect must be using hired guns; I can’t see Rustin or Carlton making that shot. Speaking of Carlton, anything from Jake or Davy?”

“Jake’s parked outside his office, waiting for him to move. You’ve just come from the squad so you’d know more about Davy than me.”

Craig hadn’t the energy for the Emiliani conversation with Nicky so he called Davy direct and put it on speaker for Liam to hear. The analyst cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder as he typed.

“Carlton. Anything so far?”

They could barely hear for the sound of Davy’s long hair rubbing against the phone, but Craig made out the important words. “…traffic cams… Ardglass Road away from the shop. Ken’s got s…something.”

Before Craig could object he was transferred to Ken. His words were crystal clear.

“We’ve found their headquarters, sir.” He decided immediately that he’d been too absolute and back peddled a bit. “At least, we think we have. From the tides and the location of where the girl washed up, we calculated her point of entry into the Quoile. Allowing for her running in bare feet and from the P.M. condition of her soles, we did a best guess at how far she might have come. One or two miles maximum. But even if it had been as much as four or five there’s only one place on Davy’s list of properties that fits.”