A Tapping at My Door: A Gripping Serial Killer Thriller (The DS Nathan Cody Series) (33 page)

‘Nice? Nice? No, it wasn’t nice at all. Not when he heard I was with another man. Not when he found out that the man in question was only the frigging ex-boyfriend I used to live with.’

‘Ah.’

She stares again. ‘Is that all you’ve got to say? Parker was basically accusing me of having an affair. Me! An affair! I felt like punching him. I did the next best thing instead, and threw his frigging ring back at him. And now . . . and now . . .’

Tears are streaming down her face. As he did the other day in the car, Cody finds a tissue in his pocket and hands it to her.

‘Jealous type, is he?’

She sniffs. ‘I tried to tell him. I tried to explain to him that I was just helping you out. But he didn’t want to listen. Said he wasn’t interested in some other bloke’s mental health problems, especially when it’s a bloke I went out with for eighteen months.’

‘Wait,’ says Cody. ‘You told him? About me?’

‘Cody, haven’t you been listening? That’s what the argument was all about. That’s what I’m—’

‘No. I mean, you told him about the difficulties I’ve been having? You told him about what I went through?’

‘Well . . . yes. I had to.’

‘No, Megan. You didn’t have to. We had an agreement. You promised you wouldn’t say anything about it.’

‘To the force. I’m not going to tell anyone on the job. But this is Parker we’re talking about.’

‘I don’t care if he’s the fucking Pope. I don’t know this guy from Adam. He might be best mates with the Chief Constable for all I know. Do you know everyone he speaks to in his bloody hotel?’

Yet another stare. But this is a third strike. This one is long and hard and sharp enough to pierce flesh and bone.

‘You know what, Cody? Fuck you. I tried to help you. I saw what you were going through, and I listened to you, and I consoled you, and I covered up for you. I didn’t ask for anything in return. But what I’ve just been trying to tell you is that everything I’ve done for you has cost me my engagement. And what do you do? You turn it back to poor old you. Well, fuck you, Cody, because, believe it or not, not everything in life is about you and your problems.’

And then she’s running out of that room, in tears again. And all Cody can do is stare helplessly at the door.

*

His day gets no better.

He spends most of it away from the station, mainly because Blunt is piling the pressure on her team to get answers. She doesn’t want to see them sitting at desks; she wants to know that they are out on the streets, posing incisive questions and uncovering promising lines of investigation. Cody realises it’s because Blunt herself is under intense pressure to find the killer. This is a national story. An international one, even. Dobby is the least of the nuisances to be encountered whenever Cody steps outside the building. Now he has to fight his way past bodies working for every major newspaper, radio station and television broadcaster in the land.

What makes it even worse is that the MIT detectives are in danger of becoming marginalised as other, higher-ranking officers become involved. The top brass want an end to these killings, but they also scent the opportunity for personal glory and media coverage. There are so many fingers being dipped into this pie that it’s in danger of being turned into mush. And the frustrations that Blunt is feeling are being vented on her team.

On the few occasions that Cody finds himself back at Stanley Road, there is little sign of Webley. She is as busy as everyone else, but she has obviously chosen to be busy on things that do not involve Cody.

He’s not sure how he feels about that. He is still angry with her, but he also understands why she is angry with him. It’s not black and white, because real life never is. It would be complicated enough without the fact that they used to go out with each other.

In a way, he’s glad he’s so busy.

Sometimes dealing with a murderer can seem preferable to dealing with personal relationships.

*

The killer observes, and his frustration becomes unbearable. He is close to breaking point now. The end has come much earlier than he hoped.

He watches the news reports throughout the day. He sees the politicians frittering away the taxpayers’ money in trying to stop him. He sees the masses of extra police officers spreading out onto the streets, searching every nook and cranny for him. He sees the Chief Constable at a press conference, promising that the heinous killer will be caught very soon. He sees the television reporters similarly opining that his time at large is coming to an end.

He would love to be able to laugh all this off. He would love to act the arch-villain, scoffing at the antics of the idiot law enforcers.

But the problem is that he believes them. He believes they will come knocking on his door soon. He has nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. And what is worst of all is that it has become virtually impossible to kill. They are expecting him. They are waiting for him. They have set traps for him. He is the bird, and they hold the string attached to the box, just waiting for him to wander into its shadow.

Ah, yes. The birds. He watches them now, flying and eating and shitting and fighting and dying. They are restless too. They have their demands, and they wonder why he is not satisfying them. They are here for him, offering up all that they have, and yet he is not delivering them from their pain. Why is that? they ask. Why are we being cheated? Where is the destiny you promised us? You brought us here, elevated our status. And now you deny us.

He knows they are right. He is failing them. This is far more difficult than he ever imagined.

But he cannot surrender yet. The birds won’t allow it. They have one huge collective message to send to the world, and this time he will be their carrier pigeon.

He is not quite certain yet what form the delivery will take. But it will come to him, and it will be spectacular. He will shout it loud and he will shout it clear.

And then they will finally understand.

43

He shouldn’t be here. He should have gone home, like a normal person. Webley flew out of the station hours ago, as soon as she was able to get away from the place. He can’t blame her. He’d blackened her day into one of utter misery. Which in turn only made himself even more miserable.

He’s not here to cheer himself up. He’s not even supposed to be here at all. Blunt would have a fit if she knew. And she might find out, especially if this backfires.

But he needs to know. He needs to do something that will make some kind of mark on this case. He needs to redeem himself after the fiasco in the old printers’ building.

Now is the time. He has sat in his parked car for the past hour, watching and waiting. Mr and Mrs Vernon left their house two minutes ago. He doesn’t know when they’ll be back, so he needs to make his move.

Here goes.

He gets out of the car. Locks it up and strides across to the house. Nobody on the street. Just a lone white cat, staring at this intruder on its territory.

He knocks on the door. It is answered within seconds.

Robert Vernon displays surprise, then indignation. ‘You’re not supposed to come here. You’re supposed to leave us alone. We were told you were going to leave us alone.’

‘I need to talk to you, Robert.’

‘I’ve got nothing more to say. I’ve told you all I know.’

Cody doesn’t waver. He gives Robert his most determined stare. ‘I’m not going away. I’ll stand here all night if I have to.’

‘Then stand there. My mum and dad’ll be home soon. See what happens then. Or what about if I call the cops? Or the newspapers? No, you don’t like that, do you? I bet your boss doesn’t even know you’re here. I’m right, aren’t I?’

Cody realises he’s on the verge of having the door slammed in his face. He also realises that getting heavy-handed right now is going to be counter-productive. Robert has the upper hand, and he knows it. It’s time to be honest. Time to be real. Time to act less like an arsehole and more like Webley.

‘Listen to me, Robert. I haven’t come here to cause trouble for you or your family. I’m here because people are dying out there. Yes, they are police officers, and yes, two of them were not your most favourite people on earth, but now other coppers are dying, coppers you’ve never even met or heard of. You can’t have a grudge against them just because they wear a uniform or carry a badge. That last copper who was murdered – the one in Hoylake – he left behind two little kids. Are you being fair on them? Are you being fair on the next young man or woman to die, and the one after that?’

‘You can’t blame me. I had nothing to do with it. My family had nothing to do with it.’

‘I believe you, Robert. I’m not blaming any of you. I’m simply asking you to help me. Five minutes of your time, that’s all I want.’

Robert stands in silence for a while, his hand gripping tightly to the edge of the door. If he closes it now, Cody thinks, then I may as well goes home.

‘Five minutes,’ says Robert. He steps aside, motioning Cody in, then scans the street for onlookers before closing the door.

He leads Cody into the front room. The cold, uninviting room. The one for unwelcome guests.

He sits where his father usually sits, as if temporarily adopting the role of the man of the house. Cody gestures enquiringly towards an empty place on the sofa, and gets a nod of consent to occupy it.

Robert sits back, like a judge waiting to hear evidence before passing judgement. ‘Say what you’ve got to say.’

Cody hasn’t rehearsed a speech. He knows he just needs to give from the heart.

‘You were absolutely right,’ he says. ‘From the outset, you and your family were prime suspects for murder. And after PC Paul Garnett was found dead, you became even more of a favourite.’

‘And now?’

‘To be honest, there are many who still think you bear responsibility. Some think you want to take revenge on all coppers, and some think the latest two victims were murdered just to divert us from the real targets.’

Robert seems slightly taken aback by Cody’s frankness. As if honoured that he should be permitted an insight into the thinking process of the police investigators.

‘What about you? What do you think?’

‘Me personally? I don’t think you had anything to do with it. You or your family.’

Robert rolls his tongue around the inside of his lips while he mulls this over.

‘You could be just saying that, to catch me off guard.’

‘I could be, but I’m not. I believe you’re innocent. At least of the murders.’

A flash of irritation in Robert’s eyes. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I’m putting my cards on the table here. I don’t think you killed any of those police officers, but I think a part of you is glad someone did. You regard it as some kind of justice. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.’

Cody waits for the backlash, but none comes.

‘So what if I do? Is that so wrong?’

Cody shakes his head. ‘Not at all. It’s human. I’d probably feel the same in your position.’

‘Okay . . . so, if I haven’t done anything wrong, why have you come to see me?’

Cody pauses a second before answering: ‘Gazza.’

A few rapid eye blinks. A lick of the lips. He’s rattled.

‘Gazza. The guy in the pub. Okay, what about him?’

‘He’s giving us problems, Robert. Based on what you told us, he could be the key to all this, so it’s really important that we find him as soon as we can. We’re devoting a load of resources to tracking him down – resources that could be used elsewhere.’

Robert nods along to this, but Cody senses his discomfort.

‘I told you what I know about the man,’ says Robert. ‘If I could remember any more, I’d tell you. It was just a brief chat in a pub. I’d been drinking. It’s difficult . . .’

‘I understand that. It’s just that . . . well, we can’t find anything about this guy. Nothing whatsoever. We’ve tracked down every Gazza we can who might have visited the Armitage recently. Not one of them seems to be a likely suspect.’

Robert shrugs. ‘What can I say? Maybe he only went there once. He might have even followed me in there. Just because nobody knows him, it doesn’t mean he wasn’t there.’

‘No, you’re right about that. Trouble is, they don’t remember you either. We showed your photo to a lot of people who go to that pub on a regular basis. Nobody recalls seeing you in there at any time.’

Robert is becoming more restless now. Twisting in his chair to get comfortable.

‘No, they probably wouldn’t. I went in there just once, for a few drinks. I never went there before or since. Why would they remember me? What are you trying to say?’

‘I’m trying to ask you to give us a little bit of help. A tiny bit of assistance so that we know where to focus our efforts. I’m asking you to be straight with me.’

‘I
am
being straight. I’ve been straight with you all along.’

‘You could really help us, Robert. Just a word from you to make sure we stay on the right track instead of chasing shadows. You don’t need to play with us anymore.’

Robert jumps to his feet. Cody resists the impulse to do the same. Stay calm. Be the voice of reason in this room.

‘What are you talking about? I
have
helped you. I told you what I know about this Gazza bloke. If you can’t find him, that’s your problem. I can’t do your job for you.’

‘Like I said, Robert, I didn’t come here to make trouble for you or your family. I’m not going to arrest you or drag you into the station. Just be honest with me, and I’ll get out of here. Help us. Isn’t that what Kevin would have wanted?’

Cody hears the name coming out of his mouth and realises too late that it’s a mistake. Robert’s eyes practically fluoresce at the mention of his dead brother.

‘Don’t you dare! Don’t you fucking dare! What do you know about what my brother wanted? Your lot killed him. Your lot destroyed our family. And now you’ve got the nerve to come here and ask for my help. You want to know what you did to us? You want to know what you’ve put my mum and dad through?’

He turns his back on Cody. Marches over to a cupboard in the corner of the room. Cody tenses. It occurs to him that, in his agitated state, Robert Vernon might be going for a weapon.