DEAD GONE (23 page)

Rob closed the gap, the effort of the run becoming clearer on his face as he passed a streetlight.

Twenty yards, ten yards, five …

Murphy stepped out, extended his arm, and dropped Rob to the floor.

Murphy stood next to a handcuffed and scared Rob Barker. He looked different close up. He could see the effect of the last year written all over his face.

He hadn’t spoken.

‘You know why we’re arresting you, Rob?’

He received a blank look in return.

‘Course you do. Where did you keep them?’

Rob shook his head in response, finding the concrete path of sudden interest.

Murphy helped him into the van which would take him down to the station. Processed and locked up overnight. They’d start questioning him the next day. Early. Let him stew for a few hours, and see if he’d talk then.

‘You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand, Rob?’

A nod. About as much as they’d got so far.

Murphy looked towards Rossi, who was sat to his right. Allowed her to begin.

‘Do you understand why you’re here, Rob?’

Rob didn’t look up at them. ‘Yes.’

‘Why are you here?’

‘You think I’m him.’

‘Who, Rob?’

‘The man you’re looking for. The man who took Jemma.’

Rossi looked down towards her notes. Murphy continued to stare at the crown of Rob’s head.

‘Jemma was your girlfriend.’

‘Is.’

‘Sorry?’

‘She
is
my girlfriend. We never split up.’

Rossi looked towards Murphy. Carry on, he thought, trying to indicate with his eyes.

‘Of course. She’s been missing almost a year now. That’s not why we’re here now though, Rob. We’re speaking to you about the three people who have been murdered in the last week, okay? What do you know about them?’

Silence crowded the room for ten seconds, then twenty. They waited.

His voice was quieter. ‘I think he took them too.’

‘Who, Rob?’

‘The man who took Jemma.’

‘Do you know who that is?’

Rob looked up at them then. Bloodshot eyes, dark rings underneath. His eyes found Murphy’s, staring through him. One word passed his lips at first.

‘No.’

A pause, lick of his lips, then, ‘I don’t want to speak any more. I’d like a solicitor in here now please.’

‘It doesn’t make sense. Why was he picked up on the cameras if he wasn’t involved … why else would he be there?’

Murphy was standing in the small kitchen area off the major incident room, facing the sink. Rossi stood with arms folded, leaning against the counter to his right, the kettle boiling behind her.

‘He looked lost,’ she replied.

‘He looked guilty.’

She shrugged, pursed her lips. ‘Reckon we can hold him?’

‘You’re joking, aren’t you. We’ve got nothing on him. They’re tearing his flat apart looking for something, anything. They’ve not found a thing. Just unpaid bills and stained dishes. Fuck all.’

He didn’t realise what he’d done until Rossi jumped beside him. The mug he’d been rinsing under the tap was reduced to just the handle.

‘Sorry,’ he said, taking the broken pieces out of the sink carefully. ‘Don’t know what came over me.’

‘It’s okay. We’re all stressed out.’

Murphy smiled, dropped the broken mug into the bin under the counter top. ‘Shall we try again?’

Murphy sighed and sat back in his chair, folded his arms and rested them on his disappearing gut.

‘No comment.’

That’s all they had received for the past hour and a half. The time was growing short, it had been almost twenty hours since they’d arrested Rob Barker.

Rossi was relentless. He admired that, but even she was waning in the face of the stonewalling. Murphy knew he was hiding something, but the more time went on, he looked more scared than guilty.

‘Why did you run from us, Rob?’

‘No comment.’

‘When you said you think someone is holding Jemma, and it’s the same person who we are looking for, how did you come to that conclusion?’

‘No comment.’

‘If you believe that, Rob, why do you not want to help us?’

‘No comment.’

The solicitor who had been provided to Rob wore a shit-eating grin which grated with Murphy no end. He was young, power suit, power tie. Nothing like the guys Jess worked with and had introduced him to over the past few years. They’d looked harried, harassed. This man was fresh faced and confident, not ground down by defending scallies who’d shoplifted a frozen turkey at Christmas, or a packet of razorblades to sell at the local pub.

He was enjoying it.

‘Rob. Listen to me,’ Murphy said, holding up a hand to Rossi, indicating for her to stop. ‘If you’re not the person we’re looking for. If you didn’t kill three people, three people who are connected to the university where you work, but know who that person is, now is the time to tell us. Because I’m not buying it. It’s too coincidental. You’re near a murder scene, minutes before Colin Woodland was placed there. Why? What possible explanation is there for you being at that place, at that time?’

Rob looked up at him, something etched across his face. Murphy knew it. ‘No comment,’ he whispered.

‘I think my client has made his position quite clear, detectives,’ the cocky lawyer said. ‘If you have nothing else, I think it’s time to bring this charade to an end. Don’t you?’

Murphy stared at him, wanting to dive across the desk and force feed him his stupid royal-blue tie.

‘Interview terminated at four-seventeen p.m.’

‘We can’t keep him any longer. You’ve got nothing, David.’

Murphy sat forward in his chair opposite DCI Stephens, running his fingers over his face and hair. ‘I know. I don’t think he’s our man anyway.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘He’s scared of something. I don’t know what it is, but he’s scared.’

Stephens sucked her teeth. ‘He remains a person of interest, but for now he’s out on bail.’

Murphy nodded. ‘Look, we could do with some help with deciphering the psychology shite that keeps popping up in these letters.’

‘You know the score, David. I can’t bring anyone in to help right now. Do you know how much a psychologist would cost? Sorry, for now you’re on your own with it.’

He’d known the answer before she said anything. Had to try though. He let the silence grow in the room.

Stephens pursed her lips. ‘How about that professor you saw a few days ago? Do you think he’d be willing to help out?’

‘I’m sure he could be persuaded.’

Murphy met Rossi outside Stephens’ office. She looked tired, the day catching up on her.

‘Well?’

‘He’s got to be released.’

‘Shit. I thought we’d get him eventually. That bastard solicitor.’

Murphy half smiled. ‘Just the way it goes sometimes. You think he did it?’

Rossi pondered on the question. ‘I think he seems as likely as anyone. You don’t?’

Murphy indicated with his head for Rossi to follow him over to the kitchen. Once in there, he spoke quietly. ‘No. I think he’s scared of something. I just don’t know what. We need to find out more about the girlfriend. It’s been almost a year, and she’s still gone. I think we need to find out why.’

He’d managed to convince Stephens to allow them to show the professor the letters, and Rossi had set up a meeting at the university.

‘We’ll have to wait until Monday,’ she’d said, tucking her hair behind her ear, ‘but hopefully it’ll make a difference.’

It didn’t seem enough. They were reacting constantly, being led by the killer’s actions. If he decided to go to ground, do a Jack the Ripper and never come out again, they’d be screwed. Murphy leaned back on the toilet cistern, escaping into the bathroom for a bit of peace. He pulled his phone out, opening his eyes to see what he was doing. The lights causing his head to pound once more.

What time do you finish?

He sent the message, hoping Jess was finishing early.

The phone buzzed in his hand.

Half an hour. Meet you at yours?

He was typing out a reply, when the bathroom door opened with a bang.

‘Did you see him before? Looked like he’d been crying or something?’

‘Don’t think he was, his eyes were all red though, maybe he’s drinking. Going full cliché on us.’

Murphy tried to place the voices. He thought one of them belonged to a young DC, Alex something. Wore too much gel in his hair, looked like he was auditioning to be a Next model most days.

‘Maybe. Can’t believe he’s still here. Thought he’d of been bombed out by now. Three dead in a week? That guy they arrested as well, no way he did it.’ Smythe, Murphy thought, that’s the other guy’s name.

He knew they were talking about him. He’d noticed the looks from other officers around the station. It was as if they were searching for something, a weakness which would confirm their suspicions. It had been that way since he’d married Sarah, the way in which they’d met causing problems with fellow officers from the start. It only intensified after his parents were murdered. Now, a week and three bodies later, with Murphy seemingly getting nowhere, the rumours would start. He knew this, had seen it happen previously to other detectives. They’d been forced out eventually, moved quietly to small areas where the crime rate wasn’t so high as it was in a city of the size of Liverpool. Less pressure, less stress. That’s how it worked. Murphy had just never thought it would be him on the receiving end.

‘He’s got fuck all. I heard Rossi will be given lead on the case once he fucks off with stress or whatever.’

‘Great. Another bird giving out orders. Haven’t we got it bad enough, with a DCI doing that? Should give it to Brannon. Anyone with eyes can see Murphy’s not up for it. You know they used to call him Bear years ago? ’Cause of his size and that. Fucking Koala Bear more like it.’

Murphy finished sending the message and stood up, listening as they laughed together outside. He flushed the toilet, without needing to and banged the stall door open. As he stepped out, the younger one looked over his shoulder and snapped his head back, nudging the other man with his elbow. The sniggering stopped as he walked out, both of the men standing at the urinals, frozen. Murphy took his time washing his hands, watching in the mirror as they stood silently. He turned off the tap and dried his hands.

As he got to the door he turned to the two men, still staring straight ahead. ‘I interrupt something?’

‘No, sir,’ Alex replied.

‘Good. The pair of you should see a doctor. Can’t be healthy to have to piss for that length of time.’

He walked out, leaving the two men nervously pulling up their zips. Spotting Rossi at her desk, he walked over towards her. ‘I’m getting off, Laura. You should too. We’re not going to get any further tonight.’

‘Okay. Just finishing off my notes. A call came through for you by the way.’ She leaned closer. ‘Sarah,’ she whispered, not wanting anyone else to hear. ‘She sounded upset.’

Murphy sighed heavily. ‘I’ll deal with it.’

He walked away, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair as he left. It was the last thing Murphy needed right now, Sarah back on the scene. His head wasn’t in the best place as it was. With her in his life, things could only get worse.

He watched it again.

The detective’s sweating, round, bearded face filled the screen. He smiled as DI Murphy rose up from the desk, shouting at someone unseen in the room.

The footage had been released in the last couple of hours. As soon as they’d found Experiment Five. Seemed it had been kept under wraps, but the discovery of a third body in a week had been cause enough to release a video of the main investigator snapping at a press conference. Backed up by the front page of the
Liverpool News
, and it was only a matter of time before the media turned on the police. And Detective Murphy in particular.

It was on YouTube at the moment, but he had no doubt Sky News would be showing it soon enough. He’d found it via a link on Twitter, searching for news about the discovery of his latest experiment.

He felt secure, safe. For the moment. They didn’t have a clue. No idea of what they were dealing with. He’d been careful, overly so in some ways, yet it was paying off. The risks of delivering his subjects greatly outweighed by the thought of his work being discussed by so many.

His initial doubts were gradually fading. He shifted in the chair, his back rigid against the hard metal.

They’d understand eventually, not yet, but soon enough. For now he was prepared to take his time, prepare for his next one.

On the screen in front of him, Experiment Two screamed soundlessly. He rarely turned up the volume of her screen; the sounds she generated annoyed him.

She sat with her back against the wall. He leaned forward towards the bank of desks the monitors were resting on, pressing a button on a keyboard.

The camera moved in, her profile filling the screen.

He grinned.

She was crying.

It was time to feed her.

He reached the top of the steps, before turning back.

There was little light in the basement, but he could see the door he’d just left behind, and the one opposite, which led to the other room down there. Soon to be filled once more.

He closed the door which led down to the basement, locked it.

Safety first. Just one of the many mottos he’d now procured for himself.

He walked down the dark corridor, passing the kitchen to his left, before entering his study.

The room was vast, the desk, now the hub of his activity, placed squarely in the room. The floor-to-ceiling windows, which had once streamed sunlight into the space, were now covered completely.

He sat in the hard chair which faced the desk. The screens which took up the length of the desk sat exactly forty inches from the edge, giving him enough space to not only watch the girl and the outside for any unwanted visitors, but also to perform the hard work of notation.