Текст книги "Jessica Daniel: Locked In / Vigilante / The Woman in Black"

Автор книги: Kerry Wilkinson

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Текущая страница: 50 (всего у книги 60 страниц)

19

As much as she disliked the morning senior detective briefings, Jessica spent the rest of the weekend waiting for Monday’s. It was largely because she wanted to hear other people’s opinions about the robbery but also because she now felt she had a little invested in the disappearance of Christine Johnson after meeting the woman’s husband.

If there was just one big case on the go, the briefings would usually be a wider affair where jobs would be assigned to other officers. Because of the way the squad had been split, the senior briefings had become a good way of sharing ideas before the respective detectives would talk to their own individual teams. There was plenty of news to exchange but, as before and despite the robbery, Jessica knew her case wasn’t the priority.

A large fan rotated in the back corner of Cole’s office as Reynolds, Cornish and Jessica sat across from the chief inspector. The DI took some printed sheets of paper out of an envelope and passed one copy to each of the people present.

‘Sorry about the printouts,’ Reynolds said. ‘The computer image is a lot better but I don’t have the best printer in my office.’

Jessica squinted at the image and wondered if it was just her who couldn’t see anything other than a red blur. She didn’t want to appear stupid so nodded, doing her best to look as if she knew what she was peering at.

After everyone had looked at the pictures, Reynolds started to speak. ‘An image-enhancement expert spent large parts of the weekend working on these. Considering what he had to work with, he’s done a pretty good job. The one you’re looking at is the final photo out of three we have from the Johnsons’ security camera. We know there was a red van parked outside the gates for between three and four minutes at around the time Christine Johnson went missing. What you’re looking at, we think, is an extremely faded Royal Mail logo.’

Jessica stared at the image and, now it had been pointed out, she could just about make out a crown and couple of the letters. The traditional bright red mail vans had yellow lettering but this one just had two shades of red.

Reynolds continued. ‘We’ve been in contact with a few people over the weekend and, from what we can gather, the mail service sell off vans after a few years of using them. When they do that, they are quite often sold as a lot to local garages or other dealerships. It’s uncommon for Royal Mail to sell directly to the public but not completely unheard of. The guy I spoke to said the yellow lettering is removed either before sale or sometimes by the garage themselves.’

‘Is there anything else to identify it?’ Jessica asked.

‘Not obviously. There’s no number plate we could see, which only really gives us the shape. We’ve got someone trying to give us a rough make and model which we can take back to Royal Mail. They should apparently have records of everything that’s sold and who to – but the quality of that information would depend on the various areas of the country. All of that could be our biggest problem – the van could have been sold anywhere across the UK. That’s a lot of vehicles and a lot of checking. Once we’ve got an idea of what model the van is, we’ll get the image out to the media and see if people can help.’

‘Do you think the van is going to be key?’ Jessica asked.

Reynolds glanced at Cornish and they exchanged shrugs. ‘We’re not sure. It could just be workmen asking for directions, or someone else parking for a few moments. There’s less than a three-hour window in between the Johnsons’ maid going to the shops and returning and it was in that time Christine Johnson went missing. The security camera only took one still-shot every minute so there are odd flashes of people walking past the gates but, in the entire period, this is all we have of somebody or something directly outside for anything longer than a few moments.’

He paused and swallowed. It looked to Jessica as if he was thinking how to phrase what he was going to say. He soon continued. ‘The other thing that’s bugging me is if you think about the area and even the way you drive, you wouldn’t usually park blocking someone’s driveway gates. I know the image you have is zoomed in but on the full shot, you can see they are completely in front of the ramp that links the property to the road. Unless you knew the people, or were as bad a driver as DS Daniel here, it’s just not the kind of thing you’d do.’

Reynolds winked at Jessica as he insulted her driving. Jessica pulled a face. ‘This bad driving thing is just a myth and that’s slander.’ She pointed at the DCI and Cornish. ‘You’re my witnesses – I’d get myself a good lawyer if I were you.’

The chief inspector spoke. ‘It’s not slander if it’s true.’

‘You too? This is outrageous. It’s not as if I’ve ever been in an accident.’

Jessica looked to Cornish as if hoping for a bit of fellow female support. ‘I was warned in my first week not to get into a car with you,’ the other woman said.

The other detectives laughed as Jessica did her best to look annoyed. ‘This is harassment and workplace bullying.’ She looked to Cole. ‘Can I put in a formal com plaint?’

‘No.’

Reynolds grinned at her. ‘All right, maybe you’re not that bad. Either way, I think we can all agree that you wouldn’t usually park across someone’s driveway like this. You can just about see in the other shots that there is space both in front and behind it too, so it didn’t have to stop where it did. We’re not sure if it means anything specifically but it’s not normal.’

Cornish actually smiled. ‘We don’t have anything else to go on either.’

Jessica hadn’t heard the woman speak flippantly before and, perhaps because they were all surprised by her tone, or because she was a little too close to the truth, all four officers laughed gently.

‘What about the Johnsons’ son? Where is he living?’ Cole asked.

‘Luxembourg. He’s working for the European Parliament. They break for summer recess very soon and he’ll be back over here but, until then, he said he’s struggling to get away. I’ve spoken to him over the phone this weekend and, in all honesty, I’m not sure there’s much he can add. There does seem to be a lot of confusion over the security camera and whether or not his father knew about it.’ He looked at Jessica. ‘You were there, what do you reckon?’

She didn’t know the inspector was going to ask for her opinion but it was clear the other three officers were interested. Cornish would have been updated about things over the past few days but the two women hadn’t spoken in that time and even she looked expectantly at Jessica.

Jessica pursed her lips before speaking. ‘I found him difficult to read – it’s hard to get past the media training he must have had.’ As she spoke she saw Cornish and Reynolds nodding in agreement. ‘On balance, I would probably say he didn’t know about the camera pointing at the gate but I don’t know what that tells us. Maybe his relationship with his wife isn’t as solid as everyone’s been making out? You can understand why he wasn’t at the family home much given his job – but you would’ve thought it’d be something they’d discuss?’ She turned to address Reynolds. ‘Did the son give you a proper reason for his mother wanting it? Was she actually scared of someone or something?’

Reynolds shook his head. ‘No, I went through all of this with him. It’s difficult over the phone but he just said his mum had been talking about security for a little while. The family setup certainly seems a little odd.’ He looked sideways at Cornish. ‘I think we’re of the same opinion as you about George Johnson – he’s very helpful on the surface but ultimately very hard to read.’

Cornish looked to emphasise the point. ‘He’s all about making eye contact and trying to look and sound as sincere as possible and he keeps his body language open. Obviously if you were talking to someone in the interview room, that’s the kind of thing you’d look for but, with him, he’s so used to doing it now, it’s second nature.’

‘Were you watching him when the maid told us about the camera?’ Jessica asked, looking at Reynolds.

The inspector shook his head. ‘No, I think I was looking at her.’

‘There was something in his face, just a moment before he corrected himself. At the time I thought it was surprise but maybe there was a little more there.’

‘Like panic?’

‘Maybe? I don’t know. It was only a fraction of a second he let his guard down. It could have been hope, I suppose. I think I’m just naturally suspicious of everyone.’

Jessica looked back at Reynolds, waiting for him to speak. ‘There’s not much else we’ve got at the moment,’ he said. ‘I’m hoping someone can give us a manufacturer for the van by lunchtime or so. If they do I can get onto the press office and we can get the photo out. Some of it has already leaked because we’ve had a few inquiries.’

‘Can someone really give you a car make and model just from the shape of the roof and windscreen?’ Jessica asked.

Reynolds nodded. ‘Apparently. Who knows what these people spend the rest of their time doing but if it can help us identify the vehicle I’m really not bothered.’

Cole looked to Jessica, raising his eyebrows, indicating it was her turn.

Jessica took a breath, then began. ‘I’m sure you know by now. There was a bit on the news about the robbery but I only received the enhanced images back this morning.’ She took some photos out of an envelope and passed them around. ‘On Saturday at about three, there was a knife robbery at an off-licence on Stockport Road. They got away with a few hundred quid but, as you can see, our thief was wearing something very familiar.’

Jessica went on to explain the facts about the case, including that the laboratories hadn’t found anything at the scene apart from a scuffed footprint in the dust showing the woman had size five feet. She talked about the female voice and similarity in the CCTV footage from the shop to the images they had from whoever was leaving the hands.

‘Are you thinking copycat?’ Reynolds said.

‘I was, maybe still am. I don’t know.’ She indicated the pictures he was holding. ‘If you look at the still frames you’ve got from the shop, they’re a pretty high quality. The ones from the city centre are zoomed in from a distance and not as good so you can’t compare like with like. All you can say is that they look . . . similar. They’re around the same height and build and wearing the same type of shoes and cloak.’

Reynolds was nodding. ‘It seems strange to go from cutting off hands to robbing shops.’

Jessica nodded. ‘Exactly but then we don’t really know what’s going on with the hands in the first place. Are the victims dead? Is the person leaving them working alone or with someone else and so on? We don’t know the motive, so maybe robbery is a part of it? It would definitely be odd but then so is leaving hands in the centre of a major city.’

‘What are you going to do with it?’ Cornish asked.

‘I’m off to Bradford Park to go through the camera footage with one of the team there,’ Jessica said. ‘I watched it at the shop the other day but we’re going to skim through a week of footage. The woman moves so quickly, it must be because she knew the shop layout. There’s no hesitation about where the counter is, or where the cameras are, because they already know. We’ll look to see if there’s anyone in the past week or so who has been in that seems to be paying particular attention to the layout. If they really know what they’re doing it will be hard to spot but I’m wary of getting all these photos into the media in case it is all unconnected and the robbery stills end up diluting people’s memories for the other case.’

Jessica was well aware the previous chief inspector, DCI Farraday, had made a disastrous call some months before that had ended up linking one suspect’s description to a much wider case the person wasn’t involved with. It had ended up denting both cases and Jessica didn’t want to repeat the same mistake.

‘The press office have already put out a standard statement about the date, time and place of the robbery,’ she added. ‘We’ll see if anyone comes forward for that while I go back over the videos. If we’re struggling in a few days, it could be a time to release the new still-shots.’

With little else to talk about, everyone went their separate ways but Jessica did at least feel the tension between her and Cornish had thawed slightly, even if it had taken jibes about her driving to do it. After the meeting, Jessica updated Rowlands and Diamond and set them to work finding out which traffic cameras and other CCTV fixtures were close to the shop. The robber must have gone somewhere and, although there wasn’t a monitoring device directly outside, there would be city-operated ones somewhere nearby.

Jessica drove to the Bradford Park station, which was close to Manchester City’s football ground. The place operated not only as a local community hub but also provided a base for almost all of Greater Manchester Police’s forensics team and other non-frontline staff, such as payroll and Human Resources. The shop’s hard drive had been taken for analysis and image enhancement, which wasn’t something they could do from the Longsight station.

She was led through the building to an area full of computers and introduced to a staff member who would be working with her. Together they began to watch the footage, starting with the Saturday itself and working backwards.

It was largely a tedious job but it did become easy to eliminate people. A lot of visitors to the shop clearly knew the layout already as they would simply walk in, pick up the newspaper or other item they wanted, pay for it and leave. Jessica realised that if the robber used the shop frequently, they would be hard to isolate. The process could still be useful if someone paid particular attention to the cameras.

Victor Burnham had been right about the Saturday-morning rush. As he opened the shop, there was a steady stream of customers who almost all picked up a paper, paid for it with near enough the right change, then quickly left. After the first couple of hours, the foot traffic dropped considerably and, after lunch, there were very few people who entered.

At the point the time code had moved on to half past two, Jessica knew that was where she had picked the footage up when she had viewed it the first time. A man entered the shop, as she knew he would, but this time she was watching properly. The scientist working with her saw exactly what she had and they exchanged a look before he rewound it to watch again. When the man walked into the shop, he glanced immediately upwards at the camera, holding the look for a fraction of a second longer than would have been normal. Switching from one angle to the other, they saw him do the exact same thing to the second camera before walking around the store. He picked up a magazine then put it back where it was and left the shop without buying anything.

They watched it back again and the man turned to Jessica. ‘What do you reckon?’

‘I believe the term is “casing the joint”,’ she said.

Jessica was annoyed at herself for being in a rush the first time and not spotting it. She had noticed the man not buying anything but completely missed his mannerisms. It could be a coincidence but, as it had happened just half an hour before the woman entered the store, it appeared unlikely. If the woman had an accomplice, it seemed all the more probable they had some sort of car, which made the work the other two constables were doing crucial.

Jessica checked in with Izzy, who said they were struggling with the various agencies that operated the cameras. She then got the contact number for the shop’s owner. Jessica called Victor Burnham and described the footage before asking if he knew exactly which magazine it was the man had picked up. The angle of the camera wasn’t the best but, with her descriptions, the owner narrowed down the possible titles to three or four. Because he had been shut on the Sunday, he was convinced none of the publications had been sold since the person picked it up. Jessica told him not to touch the rack as she would arrange for someone to come and collect the magazines. If they could isolate fingerprints, they could run it against their database to see if they had any record of the man.

While that was all going on, the scientist had managed to get some better definition printouts of the man looking at the cameras. Jessica took the hard copies and asked him to email the digital versions then drove back to the station. The jokes about her driving were definitely in the back of her mind as she was careful and stuck to all the speed limits.

As she was waiting to pull into the station’s car park, three marked police cars raced out of the entrance, their sirens and lights going. Jessica parked and walked into the front reception area.

‘Where were they off to?’ she asked the desk sergeant.

‘There’s something going on in town. I’m not completely sure, it’s been mad here this morning.’

As they were talking, Jessica’s mobile phone started to ring and she saw it was Cole’s extension. ‘I’m downstairs,’ she said as her way of answering.

After a short conversation with her boss, Jessica turned and ran back to her car – and this time she wouldn’t be driving quite so carefully.

20

Given his twenty-one years of eating and drinking experience, Frank Rice was finding it hard to figure out quite how he’d managed to forget how to do something seemingly simple. In essence, he’d done everything right. He had picked up the cappuccino mug, put it to his lips and then, for some reason that utterly escaped him, breathed in the milk foam instead of sipping it.

The woman sitting opposite him asked if he was all right and, despite not being able to get a word out without coughing, he assured her he was. In actual fact, every time he breathed in, he could feel a tiny bit of liquid at the top of his lungs while his nose still tickled. He had also burned the outside of his right index finger trying to hastily put the cup down as the spluttering began and was pretty sure his eyes had been bulging at one point.

All in all, it wasn’t the best impression to be making on a first date.

Frank tried to smile but the woman in the chair across from him had her head tilted slightly to the side with a puzzled look. ‘Are you sure you’re . . .’ she started.

‘Yeah, no worries.’ Frank nodded as he spoke but felt his voice lurch down an octave as he struggled not to cough again.

The woman picked up a napkin from under her own cup and held it out towards him. ‘Do you want a tissue?’

Frank reached out and took it before turning around, hunching over and letting out the most guttural heave he had ever managed without throwing up. He finally felt the liquid come back up his windpipe and swallowed it properly then turned back around to face the woman. ‘Sorry about that.’

Kelly Stark was clearly trying not to laugh. ‘I’m not saying I’ve been out with too many guys I’ve met on the Internet but you’re definitely the first who’s nearly choked to death.’

Frank didn’t want to ask how many she had been out with – but she was his third Internet date and the first two hadn’t gone too well. The first had been a little similar to the current one in that they had opted for an afternoon meeting in a cafe. After they sat down at a table, she’d asked him if he minded that she had asked to meet on an afternoon instead of an evening. His reply still haunted him. ‘Yes it’s fine – I’m not a sex attacker or anything.’

It had taken him a few days to figure out his own thought process. When he had first signed up for the dating website, he read the Frequently Asked Questions section. In that, it advised people to meet in public places, which seemed sensible. Frank had confided in only one friend that he’d joined the service and, after telling him he was all set for a coffee date with a girl, his mate had joked that the only reason she had asked to meet during the daytime was so he couldn’t attack her.

With the mixture of his friend’s joke and the site’s FAQ in his mind, for some reason he thought the best thing he could say to a stranger on the first date was that he had no intention of assaulting her.

There wasn’t really anywhere to go from there.

The second date had definitely gone better and Frank was on the brink of asking her about a possible second meeting. That was until the woman’s tiny dog had stuck its head out from her handbag. Frank didn’t hate animals but he wasn’t a massive fan either and he figured dogs just weren’t meant to be that small. He felt a shiver go down his back each time the creature appeared and it was clear that wasn’t going to work either.

When he had first seen the pictures of Kelly and sent her a message, he hadn’t thought for a moment she would message him back. She had gorgeous long straight black hair and big brown eyes. He knew she was probably out of his league and his friend had put it best. ‘She’s an eight or a nine, mate and, if you’re lucky, you’re a five.’

As Kelly smiled across the table at him, Frank wasn’t sure if she was trying not to laugh at him but the crinkles around her eyes and the way her dark eyes grinned with her lips meant marking her down as an ‘eight’ was definitely underplaying it.

‘Sorry, I just sort of breathed the frothy bit in,’ Frank said.

‘I wondered why you’d gone purple.’ Frank took a sip from his cup and managed to swallow it without choking. Kelly grinned widely and silently clapped him. ‘Well done.’

Frank wasn’t sure how to respond. He was used to feeling uncomfortable around girls but hadn’t met too many who were actually friendly.

‘So, why did you email me then?’ Kelly asked.

Frank knew the answer was, ‘Because I saw a little bit of cleavage in your picture, clicked to have a closer look and then thought you actually seemed quite nice’ but didn’t think that would be the best response. ‘I just saw you liked the cinema and music and thought we’d get on,’ he said.

Kelly took a sip of her strawberry smoothie and had a playful smile on her face as she put the glass down. ‘I guess there aren’t that many people interested in movies and music. What type of films are you into?’

Frank thought the look on her face showed she was teasing him and there was a definite hint of sarcasm in her voice. He tried to give himself a few moments by breathing deeply and looking as if he was thinking about it. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing and was trying to remember his friend’s advice about asking a question, then agreeing with the girl’s answer rather than letting her do the initial talking. At the time it sounded like a ridiculously sexist notion but, as he weighed up whether to admit ‘The Lion King’ was his favourite movie, he saw the sense in it. If he had asked the question and she had named some subtitled indie movie, he could have agreed with her and sounded vaguely intellectual. Choosing a children’s cartoon could either show he was endearingly sensitive or make her think he was tragically immature. ‘Probably “Citizen Kane”,’ Frank said, thinking it sounded like a safe option, even though he had never seen it.

‘Oh, that’s a good choice. I wish I could say something like that but I still like stuff like “Toy Story” and “The Lion King”,’ Kelly replied. Frank nodded along with her choices but was annoyed with himself for not being honest. ‘What else do you get up to?’ Kelly asked.

The man thought it was the time to tell the truth. ‘You know I’m a student and am doing agency work through the summer but when I’m on days off from that, I just tend to play on the PlayStation, maybe watch a bit of wrestling on TV or football during the season, go to the pub . . . that kind of thing.’

‘Video games and wrestling?’

‘Not all the time.’

Kelly started laughing. ‘No, it’s fine. At least you’re honest. Some guys will tell you anything.’

Frank screwed up his face slightly in his best look of disbelief. ‘Really? That’s just shameless.’

‘Yeah, like you’ll ask them what movie they like and they’ll mention some classic just because it’s in all those top ten of all time lists.’

Frank peered at her but she was smiling. ‘How did you know?’

‘I looked you up – I look everyone up. I don’t just go out with someone based on their stupid dating website profile. Everyone looks like a decent person on there. I read the reviews you wrote on the uni’s magazine website. I know what you’re actually into, that’s why I agreed to meet.’

‘Oh, right. That’s kind of clever. I didn’t do any of that.’

Kelly grinned even more widely and Frank realised he really liked her. ‘No, it’s fine,’ she said. ‘Admittedly I didn’t find anything that said you didn’t know how to drink a cup of coffee but the rest of it seemed nice.’

‘Sorry, I can usually drink without choking,’ Frank smiled. ‘So, er, what do you mean by “looking people up”?’

‘Why, have you got something to hide?’

‘No but . . .’

‘Look, you’re twenty-one and I’m twenty-three. When you’re a young woman on a site like that, you get all types of weirdo wanting to talk to you. You get the older guys telling you how rich they are and that they’ll look after you, then you get the younger ones sending you pictures of their six-packs as if it’s supposed to be impressive.’

Frank must have glanced down at his own non-washboard stomach because Kelly giggled. ‘Look, if it was only pictures of stomachs I got sent, I’d be fine.’

The man felt his eyes widen. ‘Oh . . .’

‘Exactly. By comparison, you’re pretty normal. That’s good.’

‘So do you already know my favourite film?’

‘Yes, you should probably change the privacy settings when you sign up to social networks.’

‘Is it your favourite movie too?’

‘Yes. I used to watch it over and over when I was a kid. I think it’s kind of sweet you like it too.’

Frank didn’t know what to say. He felt a little embarrassed but also slightly ill-equipped as Kelly clearly knew far more about him than he did about her. It did give him hope that he could just be himself rather than have to concentrate non-stop in an effort to try to be someone he wasn’t. He took another drink of his coffee while the woman watched him. ‘Sorry if I sound a little stalker-ish but I’ve been out with a few dicks over the years and I don’t have the time to invest in them any longer. You seemed nice.’

‘Thanks, you seem . . . nice too. A little scary though.’

Kelly laughed. ‘Yeah, I’m terrifying.’

Frank enjoyed the rest of the afternoon. Kelly was certainly different and didn’t seem to have any kind of ego. Her intelligence shone through and, the more they spoke, the more Frank realised she had agreed to go out with him not because of his cheesy message to her on the website but because she had looked up the kind of things he liked and known they had a lot in common. She was happy to laugh at him without it being cruel and have him poke fun at her too. Her confidence was a little intimidating but, if that was her worst trait, he figured it was his problem not hers.

After they finished their first drinks and had another each, Kelly said she had to go because she had an evening shift on the reception desk of the hospital where she worked.

Frank was nervous about asking if she would go out with him again but she didn’t give him any option by saying she’d message him to arrange going out on a Friday or Saturday evening. As they said goodbye outside the cafe, Frank stretched his arm out and they shook hands before going their separate ways. The woman had a massive smile on her face and giggled throughout the handshake and Frank could see how absurd it was. He cursed himself for not trying to hug her at the very least.

It was a fairly short walk home for the man and he spent the journey thinking about little things he could have said differently and wondering how he could phrase a text message later that day to say he’d enjoyed himself. As he neared his flat, Frank decided to stop in the off-licence on the next road over to see if his friend was working.

He entered the shop and was delighted to see a familiar face. ‘Hey, Sanj, how are you doing?’ he said.

The young man behind the counter looked up from the magazine he was reading and grinned. ‘Not bad, how are you, fella? We still on for Friday?’

‘Definitely. Can I use your toilet?’

‘Are you still waiting on a plumber?’

‘Our landlord keeps saying he’ll sort it but we still have to flush with a bucket for now.’

The man behind the counter pulled a face. ‘All right, you know where it is but don’t tell my dad I let you back there.’

Frank walked towards the rear of the store and went through the side door he knew led down a short corridor to the small bathroom. Someone had already left a newspaper in there so he skimmed through it while also checking the emails on his phone. He went to flush the toilet but, as he did so, thought he heard raised voices from the main part of the shop. He quietly opened the door and walked towards the voices. There was a curtain of beads that stretched all the way to the floor and Frank peered through the gaps, being careful not to disturb them.

Despite the warmth of the day, he felt a chill tingle down his back as someone in a black hood stood holding a knife at his terrified friend.