Текст книги "Jessica Daniel: Think of the Children / Playing with Fire / Thicker Than Water"

Автор книги: Kerry Wilkinson

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 56 страниц)

Reynolds waved everyone into a circle and took his copy of the map out of a pocket, shouting over the surrounding noise so that everyone could hear him.

‘My colleague here assures me this is the right place,’ he said. ‘From what I can tell, we’re looking at an area maybe a hundred yards square. Let’s skim around and see if there’s anything obvious. If not, we’ll come back when it’s stopped pissing down.’

Jessica had the urge to point out that could well mean they never returned but she held her tongue. The group spread out and began to mooch through the trees. It was clear no one really knew what they were doing and Jessica was beginning to feel her earlier enthusiasm about coming to the site was misplaced. She exchanged a glance with Rowlands as if to say ‘sorry’, and then looked back at her feet as she moved in as straight a line as she could manage without walking into any trees.

Aside from mounds of dirt and roots she did her best not to trip over, Jessica couldn’t see anything of note. The only observation that seemed slightly out of the ordinary was that the entire area appeared untouched. Most woodland like this would either be overgrown and unkempt, or surrounded by signs letting people know where they could and couldn’t walk.

As she continued, Jessica tried to keep her mind focused, looking for anything unusual. She edged further into the trees, which were becoming more densely packed, blocking even more of the light. Just as she was beginning to think they would have to come back another time, Jessica heard a shout from the far end of the line, turning to see the silhouettes of two people in thick jackets converging on a spot around thirty metres away. Her first instinct was to run but, after two steps, she realised that attempting to do so would leave her sliding along the ground.

Jessica moved as fast as she could without losing her footing and immediately saw why the officer had called them over. While most of the soil was damp on the surface, he had stopped by a patch of land that looked as if it had been dug up recently. It had been covered by stray branches which, if anything, drew more attention because the rest of the ground was clear of clutter.

Jason was the last person to reach the scene and looked straight at Jessica, not saying anything but asking the question with his eyes instead: ‘What do you want to do?’ Even though he was her supervisor and it was his call, Jessica knew he was deferring to her. She assumed it was because of her earlier insistence on being involved, or perhaps he was simply asking if she wanted to get out of the rain. Either way she reached out to take a spade from an officer standing next to her.

‘Let’s dig.’

Instead of handing over the shovel, the officer stepped past Jessica and slammed the spade into the ground himself. He was quickly followed by four others as another placed the metal battering ram on the floor and sat on it. Jessica stood silently next to Reynolds. The steel tips of the spades thudded into the ground as the rain continued falling around them. Gradually piles of mud began to build up before, finally, everyone saw what they had come for.

The five men stopped digging in unison, glancing towards the two detectives. Jessica stepped forward first, crouching next to the hole which was around a foot deep. She picked up a large see-through plastic bag that reminded her of the freezer bags with the white zips which her mum used for leftovers. She wiped away some soil with her bare hands, surprised at how neat the object was. Jessica didn’t open the plastic; she didn’t need to. Inside she could clearly see a tidily folded light blue football shirt and a pair of jeans.

Given the size there was no doubt they belonged to a child.

3

Jessica held the bag up for Reynolds to see but it was Dave who spoke. ‘Is that a Man City shirt?’

Reynolds shook his head to say he didn’t know but one of the other officers stepped forward, nodding. ‘Yeah, it’s a City shirt. Few years old though, they’ve not had that sponsor in years.’

With the light fading, Reynolds signalled for everyone to return to the cars. Two officers were left to make sure no one interfered with the area. DCI Cole or a superior would decide what they should do next.

Usually when they found something of note, the officers would be buzzing but it was more or less a silent journey back to the station for Jessica, Reynolds and Rowlands. She figured it was partly because no one understood the significance of what they had discovered, not to mention the fact that they were all soaking wet. Jessica thought about the body of the child she had found that morning and how it might be connected to the clothes. She still felt there was something not quite right about the fact the driver was using a map. It seemed obvious you only needed one if you didn’t know where you were going. If the driver was heading either to bury Isaac Hutchings or, for whatever reason, dig up the clothes, wouldn’t he already know the location?

Back at the station, many of the day-shift officers had already left. DCI Cole had waited for them to get back but, aside from handing the bagged clothes over to an already overworked forensics team, there wasn’t much else any of them could do.

Jessica spent the whole of the next day feeling as if she was going through the motions. She hadn’t been present but Isaac’s mother had identified his body and their murder investigation had officially begun. The football shirt had been easily identified by other officers as being somewhere between twelve and fifteen years old because of the sponsor’s name. Jessica’s gut feeling was that there would be further excavation work required in case there was something they had missed but, aside from the map that had led them there, its significance was a mystery for now.

Their other lead was the key with the number 61 on the fob. It had been returned by the scientists who had determined there were no fingerprints or anything else of note on it. Jessica left Rowlands and a small group of officers with the task of trying to find out its use as she went to visit the owner of the stolen black car.

Partly to make up for leaving her at the station the whole of the previous day but also because she liked working with her, Jessica took DC Izzy Diamond with her for the interview. Izzy, who had long bright-red hair, had become a good friend to Jessica in recent times.

The relentless rain from the previous day had gone, replaced by a light drizzle that seemed to define the area. Jessica drove one of the marked police cars while Izzy gave directions.

‘Have you told anyone yet?’ Jessica asked as they waited at a set of traffic lights.

‘Why? I’m not starting to show yet, am I?’

Jessica giggled gently. ‘You’re paranoid about getting fat. Of course you’re not showing, I’m just terrified of accidentally telling someone you’re pregnant before it’s officially out.’

The constable didn’t sound too fussed. ‘I’m sure I’ll blab it soon enough. I think Mal’s told his mum anyway. We said we wouldn’t but she dropped some hint about me not being allowed to drink the other day. Still, I guess I’ve told you so we’re even.’

‘I don’t know what I’m going to do when you go off on maternity. I’m going to be left talking to Dave all the time and he’s so obsessed with Chloe he’ll probably be spending his lunch breaks writing sonnets in the canteen by then.’

Izzy laughed. ‘I’ve got a few months before I disappear. Anyway, what’s she like?’ DC Diamond had not met the woman, with Jessica the only person other than Dave able to confirm her existence.

‘Chloe?’ Jessica asked.

‘Yeah, I would’ve put a tenner on either “imaginary” or “blow-up”.’

Jessica put the car in first gear and gently pulled away from the junction. ‘Me too but she’s all too real. She’s sort of normal as well. You know, two arms, two legs, one head, not mentally impaired. Normal. Christ knows what she sees in Dave.’ The two women exchanged a glance. ‘What does it feel like?’ Jessica added.

‘What?’

‘I don’t know . . . having something inside of you.’

DC Diamond cackled. ‘I didn’t realise you were that shy.’

Jessica snorted, realising what she’d said. ‘Not like that. I mean the baby. What does it feel like?’

Out of the corner of her eye, Jessica saw her colleague put a hand on her stomach.

‘I don’t know. It just feels . . . right. Like it’s meant to be there. Did I show you the first scan photo we got?’

‘Yeah, it sort of looked like a pean . . .’ Jessica tailed off before finishing the sentence.

Izzy sounded part-amused, part-offended. ‘Were you going to say “peanut”?’

‘No.’

‘Penis?’

Jessica laughed again. ‘Definitely not.’

‘You know, out of you and Dave, I think it’s getting to the point where he’s the mature one.’

‘Sod off, is he.’

‘Okay, enough about my unborn child that apparently looks like a peanut. What’s going on with you?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Dave reckoned you were seeing his friend, that magician guy.’

Jessica wasn’t too pleased at people gossiping about her but tried to hide it. ‘Hugo? No, we’re just mates. He comes round and cooks for me every week or two.’

‘“Cooks”? Is that what you’re calling it nowadays?’

‘Get out, he’s just a mate. Anyway, where’s this house we’re going to?’

‘Ooh, changing the subject, very suspicious.’

Jessica was glad she had taken Izzy with her. She wouldn’t have admitted it if anyone had asked but the image of Isaac Hutchings had stayed with her and she had struggled to sleep the previous night. She tried not to think too much about her own health but couldn’t avoid the fact that her ability to sleep deteriorated significantly each time she was involved with a serious case. Trying to have normal conversations with people like Izzy was something that allowed her to feel as if her life wasn’t being overtaken by the job.

After a little more teasing, they reached the address where the black car had been stolen from. Jessica had read the report and knew the car had been taken from a driveway but it seemed sensible to go back over the details now the vehicle was part of a murder investigation.

She parked on the road outside the property, climbing out to feel yet more drizzle. As Jessica scanned the surroundings, she could almost still feel the clingy dampness from the day before when she had been soaked.

When Jessica had started in the force and worked in uniform, car crime had been fairly common. That had been around a decade ago when stereos were easier to steal and provided a quick chunk of money for addicts needing a fix. With improved security devices, cars had not only become harder to break into and pull apart – but also tougher to actually steal. Vehicle theft had significantly decreased and most instances these days meant an owner had left the car unlocked. The area they were in wasn’t a high-crime district at all. It wasn’t quite an idyllic paradise but most of the houses were well kept with neatly trimmed lawns and Jessica knew a car being stolen from a driveway would be a rarity.

She didn’t need to check to remember the name of the person whose car had been taken because she had been so taken with ‘Daisy Peters’ on the front of the report. Without meeting her, Jessica thought the name conjured thoughts of summer meadows and sunshine which perhaps wasn’t quite an accurate picture given the weather.

The woman’s driveway was clear, backing onto a closed bright white garage door. A narrow pathway ran along the tarmac, separating it from a small patch of grass. Every property on the estate looked the same.

Izzy made her way around the car and Jessica resisted the urge to ask if she was all right. She herself had no particular wish for a baby or even a husband, but she figured the last thing she would want if she were pregnant was someone asking her every five minutes if she was okay.

They cut across the drive and reached a white double-glazed door next to a bay window that jutted out into the front garden. Jessica went to ring the doorbell but, before she could, the door swung open and a woman with short blonde hair stood in front of them. ‘I saw you through the window,’ she said. ‘Come on in, the kettle’s already on. I’m Daisy.’

Jessica made sure she wiped her feet as, even from the doorway, it was clear the interior of the house was incredibly neat. The woman led them along a short hallway into a living room completely free of clutter. There was a computer desk at one end, with a sofa and two armchairs at the other facing a television. Daisy asked if they wanted tea and, after receiving two positive replies, left the room.

Izzy blew out through her teeth. ‘If she does her own cleaning, she can come round mine any time.’

Jessica nodded in agreement. ‘Clean people always creep me out.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know, I guess I just think it’s weird.’

‘What, tidying up?’ Izzy again seemed part-puzzled, part-bemused.

‘Maybe, I don’t know.’

Jessica used the time to take in the room. It wasn’t that Daisy was a suspect but she had found over the years that a lot could be learned simply by watching, or looking at family photos of graduations or weddings. The walls of this house were completely free from decoration, except for an analogue clock hung above the flat television that was sitting on a pine cabinet.

‘What do you reckon?’ Jessica asked in a loud whisper. She was fairly confident of her own conclusions but wanted to know what her colleague thought.

Diamond was as driven as anyone Jessica had met and she knew the constable wanted to be as good at her job as she could be. For now it was a guessing game but the red-haired woman played along. ‘Single?’ Jessica nodded to indicate she agreed. ‘Clean freak, obviously.’

‘Why, though?’

The constable screwed up her face slightly. ‘I don’t know. Parents?’

‘I reckon it’s rented. No photos, no real furniture.’ Jessica pointed towards the computer desk. ‘I think she works from here too. Maybe she’s a rep or something?’

Izzy shrugged. ‘Does that matter?’

‘Maybe. We don’t know who the driver of her stolen car is – or even if he was the one who took it. If whoever it was knew the area, or lived locally themselves, they might have noticed a single woman on her own moving into a house. The report said the car was taken from her driveway.’

Daisy interrupted as she returned carrying three mugs, which she put on the coffee table before sitting in an armchair opposite the sofa both detectives were on. She smiled but seemed a little nervous.

‘I know my car was in an accident yesterday because someone called,’ she said. ‘I saw the photos on the Internet and I’ve been talking to the insurance company. They’re sorting me out with a courtesy car but I’m not really sure what I can help you with . . .’

News about what they had found in the car’s boot had been kept quiet and Jessica wasn’t about to give anything away.

‘We’d like to go back over the details you’ve already given,’ Jessica said. ‘I know you’ve already told someone about it but we might have a few different questions.’ Daisy cradled her mug, shrugging as if to say it wasn’t a problem so Jessica continued: ‘Can you tell us what exactly happened?’

Daisy took a drink of her tea then put it down on the table. She looked slightly embarrassed as she started to talk. ‘I know it sounds stupid now but, at the time, I didn’t think anything of it. Basically, I used to lose my keys all the time. They’d show up everywhere: in the fridge, under chairs, in my shoes, all over. So I got this key-rack thing and hung it in the hallway. It meant that I couldn’t walk through the front door without seeing it. Every time I got home, I’d see the rack and hang my keys up.’

Jessica had a similar problem with losing her keys and phone and knew exactly where the story was going as Daisy took another drink before tucking a strand of her short hair behind her ear and continuing.

‘The insurance company are being arsey about it because they say they haven’t yet determined if I’m to blame. Either way, I’d hung my keys up as usual a few nights ago after going to the supermarket. I work from home, so I’d done some stuff on the computer, watched a bit of TV, and then gone to bed. I came down the next morning and had been working but then I had to meet a client. I went to the rack but the car keys were missing. It was after lunch and I’d not even noticed. I checked everywhere because at first I thought I’d forgotten to hang them up. Then, after about half an hour, I looked outside and realised the bloody car was gone.’

Daisy was speaking more and more quickly, as if she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. She had also begun to play with her hair, pulling strands out from behind her ear and curling them with her fingers before tucking them away again.

‘I didn’t know what to think,’ she added. ‘I called you, of course, and the guy on the phone said he thought someone might have hooked my keys out through the letterbox. I went and had a look but there was no sign, although I’m not sure that there would be. The investigators came round and said they were looking for footprints or fingerprints but didn’t seem to find anything. They didn’t sound confident but left me with a number to give to the insurance company. Then I got the call yesterday saying my car had been in an accident. That’s about it really.’

Izzy had been taking notes, although Jessica knew Daisy hadn’t revealed anything they didn’t already know. She let her colleague finish writing before moving on. ‘How long have you lived here, Daisy?’

‘Not long, a few months. I work as a rep for this electronics company. They’re based in London but trying to break into the north. They pay half the rent because it counts as an office and I pay the rest. The money’s good, which is one thing, I guess. I’ve still got a flat down south, which is where most of my stuff is. I don’t know if this is going to be a long-term thing yet.’

Jessica resisted the urge to smile at having her suspicions confirmed and took a sip of her own tea. She asked some follow-up questions about whether Daisy had seen anyone suspicious, or if she knew anyone locally who was familiar with her domestic situation. The lack of a clear photo of the driver didn’t give them much else to work with. It seemed pretty clear Daisy was simply waiting for the call so she could move back south and hadn’t made much effort to integrate into the area.

As they were getting ready to leave, Jessica’s phone rang. She apologised to Daisy and stepped quickly into the hallway.

Rowlands’s mobile number flashed onto the screen. ‘What’s up?’ Jessica asked.

‘Are you on your way back?’

She knew her colleague well enough to know from his tone that he was excited about something. ‘Not quite, we’re just leaving. What’s going on?’

Rowlands paused as if for dramatic effect. ‘We know where the key comes from.’

4

Jessica felt a small surge in her chest as she always did when something important happened. She resisted the temptation to say anything nice. ‘Took you long enough. Where’s it from?’

Rowlands laughed. ‘I knew you’d be appreciative. We’re pretty sure it comes from an allotment shed. We’d been going around in circles talking to hotels and the like, and then one of the uniform boys came in and reckoned his dad had a key just like it. We spoke to the council who were as useful as ever but they put us on to some allotment society secretary guy who knew what he was talking about. We emailed him a photo of the key and he knew straight away where it was from. He said something about it being colour-coded by the fob. Anyway, we’re heading out there now. The DCI was going to phone you to say to meet there but then he got called away along with Jason.’

‘Have we got anything back from the clothes we found?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Right, where am I meeting you?’

‘You know the reservoir out Gorton way? There’s a big plot near there. Just call if you can’t find it but we’ll wait for you.’

Jessica hung up and quickly said her goodbyes to Daisy before heading off in the car with Izzy. The rain had finally stopped and she could feel the beginnings of that buzz that could herald finding something horrific or something else that could help break a case.

‘You were right about the woman,’ Izzy said after Jessica had found her way off the estate back onto the main road.

‘When I’m not comparing people’s unborn children to salted snacks I’m not too bad.’

Izzy laughed. ‘I don’t know how you get to a point where you just see things.’

Jessica shrugged with one shoulder as she continued to drive. ‘Practice. When I first got out of uniform there was this old DI guy called Harry who let me tag along. He seemed to know everyone and everything. We were around this bloke’s house once for an interview. He asked if I wanted tea. I wasn’t fussed and said “no” but then Harry asked for one anyway. I was annoyed because I thought he was wasting time but then, while the guy was in the kitchen, Harry was poking around and sizing the place up. He reckoned you should never turn down a drink whether you want one or not because, while the owner’s away from the room, it gives you a chance to look at the walls, the furniture and the carpets, things like that, and assess what you might be up against.’

‘Clever.’

‘I know. Sometimes you’ll be talking to actual suspects, but most of the time it’ll just be a witness. Either way, you never know what might happen or whether someone might slip up, so you learn to look for things.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know, maybe stray shoes in a hallway? What size are they? Could they be male, female or a child’s? That kind of thing. It gives you a feel of the type of circumstance someone might be living in. Daisy seems pretty straight-up but it does sound as if whoever took her car knew about her living arrangements. Who knows, maybe they’d knocked on her door once and saw the keys hanging?’

‘Like a postman?’

‘Or a neighbour or someone else that knew she was an outsider living on her own. She said she didn’t recognise the photo of the driver but perhaps that just means someone else took the vehicle? Something about him needing a map still doesn’t sit right. Ultimately, you get used to picking up on these things.’

Izzy paused for a few moments, taking in Jessica’s words. ‘So what’s this Harry guy’s last name? Does he work in a different district?’

‘It’s Harry Thomas. He’s . . . retired.’ Jessica felt uneasy talking about the man. He had been stabbed in a bar fight a few years previously and, after spiralling down into alcoholism, had had to quit the force while the person who attacked him was acquitted by a jury. It then emerged he could have been involved in inadvertently protecting Randall Anderson, the serial killer who tried to murder Jessica and was currently in a high-security hospital. Only Jessica knew about his possible connection to Harry but she had never looked into it properly for fear of finding out it was true. At least by not knowing she still had some good memories of the person who had mentored her but if those were taken away, she’d have nothing but bitterness.

Perhaps it was Jessica’s tone but Izzy didn’t pursue the question. Instead they drove in relative silence, even when they were held up in unexpected traffic at Ardwick Green. Suited and booted crowds were streaming out of the theatre, even though it was the afternoon, leading Jessica to assume there was a corporate event going on. If she had been driving a marked car, she would have flicked on the lights but instead she waited with as much patience as she could muster.

Jessica didn’t know exactly where they were going but the allotments were signposted and two marked police cars were already parked in front of a wide metal gate which separated the plots from the road. As Jessica pulled in behind the vehicles, Rowlands got out of the one at the front and came towards her.

‘Do we know who runs plot sixty-one then?’ she asked, pulling on a jacket.

‘Sort of. We found out that the council owns the land but the running of it is handed over to individual allotment societies. Each society has a secretary. The one from here is the guy that identified the key for us. Anyway, he says number sixty-one has been registered to a “Glenn Harrison” for the best part of twenty years.’

‘I don’t recognise the name.’

Rowlands shook his head. ‘No, and we don’t have anyone in our files that would fit it either. The secretary read us the guy’s address but . . .’

‘. . . it doesn’t exist.’ Jessica finished the constable’s sentence with a slight wince as he nodded to confirm she was right. Izzy had walked around the vehicle and heard the final part of the conversation.

‘So who pays for the land, then? Isn’t it like fifty quid a year or something?’ she asked.

‘Er, yeah. How do you know that?’ Rowlands replied.

‘My dad used to keep a plot. I think he just went there to get some peace to be honest.’

Rowlands gave her a ‘don’t blame him’ look, adding, ‘The secretary says it’s forty-eight quid a year. He checked his files and said Harrison paid in cash. He reckons the society are trying to get people to switch to direct debits and the like but a lot of their members are older and will only deal in cash.’

Jessica spoke next. ‘So does he know who this Harrison guy is?’

‘Apparently not. He says some people pay direct to the council, others post him cheques and so on. He’s looking into it now but I think we’ll have to visit him.’

Jessica was wary of what they might find at plot sixty-one. She was only too familiar with the horrors people could commit when their identity was known, so the thought of what someone could have been up to when it wouldn’t be traced back to them was something she didn’t want to anticipate.

With little else to say, Rowlands and Jessica led their small party through the gate. The patches were numbered sensibly in rows of ten, becoming larger as the land widened. Some of the plots proudly displayed their numbers either on a shed or attached to a piece of wood hammered into the ground. The patches became bigger still as they moved deeper into the site, a few gardeners tending their plants nearby. The presence of men and women in suits and police coats was undoubtedly out of the ordinary and the few who were around watched them edge through the site.

Jessica tried her best not to step on anyone’s plants as Rowlands led them along a path that cut through a selection of plots. She saw a large ‘5’ painted onto the side of a shed and looked up ahead to see where they were going. Plot sixty-one seemed to be unmarked, the land itself relatively untended, while the wooden shed was somewhat larger than the ones close to it. Someone had fitted guttering to the roof, which allowed water to run onto the pathway as opposed to falling on the soil.

Taking the key from Rowlands, Jessica pressed the side of the shed. It felt thick and unmoving. She looked to see if there were any windows but there seemed to be no way in other than the door, which was secured with a heavy metal padlock. She slid the key into the lock with ease, turning it until it made a solid click, then opened the latch, taking a deep breath before pulling the door open.

The hinges creaked as Jessica stepped around the swinging door and crossed the threshold. For the second day running no one had thought about the light situation. Jessica asked Rowlands if he’d brought a torch but he pulled a face and held his hands up open-palmed. Jessica waved him and Izzy into the hut then asked everyone to clear away from the entrance in order to let as much light in as possible.

Her footsteps echoing off the creaking wooden floor, Jessica surveyed the gloomy interior, noticing a metal desk pushed up against the wall opposite the door with a swivel chair underneath. Despite the poor light, she could see yellow foam spilling out of the backrest. A gas canister and small portable stove were in another corner. From what she could see, there wasn’t anything pinned to the walls and, apart from flecks of dried soil, very little else of note.

‘See anything?’ Jessica asked. The other two officers answered ‘no’ at the same time. Jessica wheeled the chair out from under the desk and sat on it. ‘Something’s not right about this place,’ she commented. Rowlands was tapping the walls with his knuckles for some reason. It was the kind of thing people did on property programmes but Jessica figured they knew what they were doing while she wasn’t convinced the constable had any real idea.

‘It doesn’t feel like an allotment shed, does it?’ Izzy said.

‘Go on,’ Jessica answered.

‘Where are the tools, spades, rakes, sweeping-up brushes and so on you’d expect in a shed like this? I know some people might use it as somewhere to go for a bit of peace and quiet but you’d still have something, wouldn’t you? Even just a radio?’

Jessica nodded. ‘Exactly and it doesn’t look like there’s much in the way of plants outside. Whoever’s been using this place hasn’t been doing much gardening. So what have they been doing?’

She spun the chair around so she was facing the desk again. The entire unit looked thick and solid, a huge job for just one person to move. The right side had three drawers and she pulled the first one, hearing the rattle of a ballpoint pen sliding to the front. Jessica went to pick it up but then stopped herself, taking an evidence bag from her pocket and sealing it inside. She doubted there would be any fingerprints or DNA on it but it would be careless to touch it herself.

The second drawer was empty but the bottom one was stuck tighter than the compartments above it. Jessica pulled hard until it sprung forward. At first she didn’t see anything but, as Izzy stepped to the side allowing in fractionally more light, Jessica noticed a pad of paper pushed towards the back. She took another evidence bag from Rowlands and put her hand inside, pulling the notebook out before placing it on top of the desk.

She took her phone out of her pocket and tapped the screen making it light up, hovering the device over the paper so she could read the words. It was a list written in blue biro and there was no doubt about the name at the top. Izzy gasped as she leant in and read it for herself.