Devil's Demise (14 page)

Had they been at the briefing, the game would have ended there and then for John, unless he murdered them both right there in the street, which had crossed his mind. They would have caught the biggest criminal to have ever stalked the streets of Edinburgh, and all because of a minor road traffic issue. John could feel his nerve starting to falter a little as the big older cop stared right at him as if seeing straight through his lies. He was sure this was it and they were stalling him until back up got there to arrest him. He knew his photo fit must have been passed to all stations. Sweat started to gather at his hairline and he hoped it couldn’t be seen. The cop turned to the younger one, their heads together. John heard him say that something wasn’t right with this guy but there was nothing to hold him on.

Just then their personal radio sounded. A disturbance was ongoing at the Muirhouse area of town, an area well known for drugs, violence and other troubles, fellow officers required urgent assistance. All police not dealing with emergency calls were expected to attend such incidents as no officer wanted to be at the wrong end of an assault with no help coming quickly.

Reluctantly, the older cop told John he was free to go and they got back in their car and sped off in the direction of Muirhouse, blue lights flashing and the siren wailing loudly as they left. John put his head on the steering wheel and sighed; the realisation of what it felt to be hunted was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time; he had truly thought that was it. He had never really given much thought to being caught as he hadn’t believed it would ever happen. If only he had killed her, none of this would be happening right now.

He drove to his house, knowing that it would not be long before the police realised their monumental error in letting him go; the place would soon be crawling with them. He smiled as
he packed up some things, taking enough clothes to make do, a small flat screen telly, DVD player and half his stash of porn as he would needed something to amuse himself wherever he ended up. “Just need the wigs and I’m sorted. I’ll grow a beard. That will change me enough to hide myself in plain sight.” He patted the barrel with a twisted sense of power, the decaying corpse of his wife still sealed grotesquely inside, and glanced round at his flat for the last time. He headed for the garage that would buy his car for cash. “No ties or loose ends this time, I’ll make sure of that,” he muttered to himself.

Findlay stood before the 40-strong squad, his gut hovering above his belt, moving up and down as he addressed the room. This made Taylor feel even more nauseous, a sight to turn even the most hardy stomach. He whined on and on about the lack of progress and that the bosses were snapping at his heels for positive results and a quicker response to all of the leads.
Get off your own fat ass and do some work then,
Taylor thought
. Stop moaning about how badly we’re doing when you can’t even cope with making a cup of fucking coffee
. Actions were handed out, several were given to each pairing, and each one had to be treated as genuine, even though everybody knew the majority would be false, requiring tons of paperwork, which in turn would create a huge delay in getting down to enquiring into the genuine leads.

“Why can’t people give us clear facts, full names and areas of work, instead of leaving us to fill in the blanks,” Taylor vented at Marcus. “People always seem to think that what they’ve said is clear and understandable and that we’ll know exactly what they mean, when it’s quite clear it’s the opposite. Take this one for instance - a guy, who might be called John who works somewhere in the City Council main office, gave her the creeps and
resembles our guy. Do people think we have crystal balls or magic wands? No, we don’t!”

“Are we taking that one or not?” Marcus looked at her questioningly.

“I suppose so, the others are even worse. At least this one could be something, even if we do have to do a shit load of digging around. One more coffee and we’ll head off and you’re driving.”

“Thanks for that,” Marcus sighed in a joking manner.

As they were leaving Taylor glanced over at Kay and attempted to smile at her. Kay looked up at her, her lips curled into a semi smile and she looked away quickly, not wanting to make Taylor think everything was alright, her heart sore from the unknown. Taylor could feel the distance open up between them; it was as if Kay could feel her guilt and read her thoughts. Taylor couldn’t even go over and talk to her because of the secrecy of their relationship; Kay would not appreciate her dirty linen being aired so publicly in the squad room. She wasn’t ashamed but liked her business to be her own. Taylor and Marcus moved towards the exit and Kay glanced in their direction. She caught Taylor’s eye as she looked back into the office, her eyes fixed firmly on Kay with genuine affection and happiness that she had taken the time to watch her leaving. The door swung closed and they were gone. Kay sat back down and stared at her computer, her heart pounding, longing, needing to know what was going on with Taylor. Was she making a fool out of her? Was she just another prize or did Taylor genuinely feel for her?

“She looked up and watched me leave. She still cares so there’s still a chance,” Taylor tugged at Marcus’s suit pocket. His eyes rolled and he said, “Stop fucking her around then. You either want her or you don’t. Kay doesn’t suffer fools gladly and you need to change your ways!”

Taylor smiled at Marcus, her colleague, friend and confidant, someone she could turn to and trust. Their relationship went further than being just work colleagues, they had mutual respect for each other and shared genuine affection for one another.

Marcus collected one of the spare pool cars from the garage at Fettes, cursing under his breath at the CID officers who had taken their usual car. Findlay had probably offered them it, just to annoy Taylor.

“He’s such a dick isn’t he, childish plonker,” Taylor moaned
to Marcus.

“C’mon, you would do the same to him if you were his boss,” he smirked at her. She shrugged her shoulders and could see the funny side of things, because she knew she would do so much more. The funny side left her as soon as she got in, the smell of chips overwhelming and the mess in the car a disgrace.

“This is revolting. Some cops are like pigs Marcus. I’m embarrassed to go anywhere in this bucket.” She giggled at what she had just said, repeating the word “pigs”.

“I’ll sort it boss, with a fart, if you get the coffees,” he said like a naughty little boy, tickled pink at how gross he had just been. Taylor looked at him in pretend disgust but a fart might actually be slightly nicer on this occasion.

“I’ve got some spray. It has got to be better than fart or chips,” Marcus smiled. “You know I was joking, right? I’ve never farted in your company!”

Taylor looked again and said, “Just as well, or I’d change partner. Coffee coming up.”

They eventually drove to the council CCTV building, an air freshener now hanging from the mirror and a skinny latte in Taylor’s hand; the day was just beginning. They had several enquiries to make, the paperwork stuffed semi neatly into their folders, as they set off to find a John, somewhere in this really quite large building.

They pulled into the loading bay at the front and popped up the police sign in the window of their vehicle. They headed to the reception area and gave the name Lucy Millar, explaining that they needed to see her and take a statement from her if they could. The clerk searched the employees list and her place of work and department came up on the screen.

“Third floor, end of the corridor, the door straight in front of you. It will have a white door and a glass panel. She works in the CCTV production department. She should be in today but her time card hasn’t been activated. Do you want me to ring up to the department?”

“No thanks, we’ll head up there and ask around. Thanks for your help.”

“Excuse me, here’s your visitors passes. You’ll need them to get through the security doors. I’ll trust you to go without a chaperone.”

“Oh, and we’ll need a list of all of the Johns, Johnathons and any other names that resemble that, their details and where they all work and whether they are in today.”

“Okay, I’ll get on to it,” the security man said.

“Do you have photographs of all of the employees, you know, the ones that will go on their ID cards?” Taylor asked, ever hopeful of an easier ride.

“We do. They might not be up to date, but we do have photographic ID for all employees.”

“Ya beauty!” Marcus whispered in Taylor’s ear; even she gave a joyful little smile.

They reached the CCTV production department and spoke with the supervisor there. He told them that Lucy wasn’t in today, which was totally out of character for her. Taylor asked several more questions, the last one being how Lucy usually travel to work. The supervisor pondered for a while and said that he thought she drove in because she was from Fife and was lucky enough to get an allocated space because of her 24/7 shifts. Taylor asked him to call her home and see if she was ill, a basic welfare check.

“Hopefully she won’t think we are being intrusive. It’s just that if this is out of character, we need to know if she’s alright, and if she’s well enough, we could head straight to her home address and get a statement from her there.”

“I’m Gary by the way. I prefer it to be less formal.” He put out his hand and Marcus and Taylor shook it.

“Thanks for doing this for us Gary,” Taylor said.

Gary called Lucy’s home number. It rang numerous times and he was about to hang up when a male voice came on.

“Hello, Millar, what can I do for you?”

“Hello, sorry to bother you. It’s Gary Russo, Lucy’s supervisor at the office.”

“What’s she done now, dropped something on her toe again?”

“Are you saying that she’s come to her work today and she’s not with you then?” Gary confirmed.

“What do you mean? Has she not arrived yet? She left more than four hours ago and she’s not phoned me to say there’s been any trouble. Are you sure she’s not in some other department working or something?” Lucy’s husband inquired, with alarm in his voice. “The police are here to take a statement from her and
she’s not clocked in today, I thought she might have been off sick and just not called in to us yet?”

“I’ll give her mobile a ring. There’s got to be an explanation for this.”

“Ask her husband what type of car she drives and the registration number and we’ll put it on ANPR. That should help us locate it and where it’s been,” Marcus requested. Gary asked all that he was required to and passed the information on to the officers. Taylor had a very bad feeling about the turn of events unfolding in front of them. They got a description of Lucy and put it out over the city wide radio channel and also over the water to the division in Fife; she was now to be treated as a high risk missing person until proven otherwise.

They headed back down to reception where they spoke with the concierge. He had compiled the list of Johns for the officers and had pulled up the staff photographs. “Marcus, I’ve got a bad feeling about this. If these photos even look a little like our guy, then this coincidence is one that doesn’t look good for Lucy.”

“Here they are. There are 23 altogether although most of them have worked here for quite a while.”

Taylor and Marcus leaned into the computer and scanned the photos for anyone familiar. Taylor swallowed hard as she looked into the steely, unemotional eyes of a much younger but now very familiar face. His name was John Brennan.

“That’s him, that’s fucking him. God damn it, he works in the CCTV operations room. No wonder we’ve never seen him, he knows every damn location of every bloody camera in the city.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. These were handed in today - ladies’ shoes, size four, nearly new. They were just left in the underground car park. Found this morning they were. I was going to put them in lost property. Do you think you might need them?” Taylor looked at the shoes and her heart sank.

“Where did you say they were found and when,” she asked with a voice of concern. “They were handed in pretty much first thing down in the underground car park, just left in the middle of one of the entrance lanes.”

“Get some back up, Marcus. We need a search team down here right away and we need to get this building checked for the suspect. Who knows, he might still be here and if cornered a very dangerous man.”

“Come on, let’s get down to the car park and take a look around and cordon it off. No-one else gets in there.”

“Which area of the car park were the shoes found in and how do we get access to it?”

Once down in the lower basement, Taylor shivered as the lift doors opened out into a parking area with space for numerous cars. She was struck by how quiet it was. There was no-one around, everyone was obviously where they needed to be and certainly not here. A cold chill ran up her spine as they walked from car to car, an array of scenarios racing through her mind about what could have happened to Lucy. Her heart pounded as she thought of the photo of John Brennan, eyes cold and evil, even in his work photo. How could people not see what type of man he was, or was that just her intuition kicking in, in the knowledge of what he was now proven to be capable of? Marcus, who was just ahead of her, stopped in his tracks and turned to Taylor, his face pale and concerned. He pointed to the ground next to a car with the registration given as Lucy’s. There was a pool of blood and blood spatter on the ground and on the side of the car, a sign that someone had been assaulted or even worse, murdered. The trail went round to the back of the car and there where globules of blood congealing on the ground and on the bonnet of the car. “Open it, Marcus. Smash the window and pop the boot open. There’s a button on the dash. She might be alive.”

Marcus quickly put on gloves and did as he was asked but his mind was not so hopeful; that amount of blood usually meant only one thing and it wasn’t good. Even if Lucy had been alive, several hours shut in a cramped boot would certainly not help her chances of survival.

Taylor stood at the boot waiting for Marcus to reach in and open it, her heart heavy with what she knew was beneath the sealed hatch. Click! The boot raised an inch and it was now free to be opened. Taylor hesitated and took a deep breath to compose herself. She lifted up the boot slowly at first, gasping her next breath as she found herself staring into open eyes, terror and fear etched into them for ever more. What had happened to Lucy and how was now tattooed in emotion for all to see. Her eyes were the only thing that remained semi human. Her head was so swollen it was hard to imagine that sweet, pretty face in her employee photo. Blood had poured from her nose,
mouth, ears and eye sockets, the brutality of her attack obvious, cerebral fluid also visible from her nose and eyes. Her body was twisted grotesquely into the small space, jammed in with brutal force and violence. There was deformity in the skull showing the massive force used to kill the young woman. Taylor reached down to her neck and checked to see if there was a pulse, knowing fine well that there wouldn’t be; Lucy’s opaque, soulless eyes said it all. Tears clouded over Taylor’s eyes, her heart sickened and sore with the what ifs.
Why kill her today, why not before? How did he know she had phoned us? If we’d only come here sooner, we might have been able to save her
. Taylor lifted her radio and called for a doctor; although she knew Lucy was dead, she was not authorised to confirm death unless there was a decapitation or advanced decomposition.

“Get a set to go round to the husband’s house. He’ll need to come and identify the body, and send someone with a heart and some experience. This one is not going to be easy to take in. No one could have seen this one coming. Thanks, over.”

“Has someone checked if Mr Brennan was at work today or not? We need to move on this fast,” Taylor exclaimed.

“No sign of him now but he was in earlier. His colleague said that he joked with him about looking like the photo fit on the telly.”

“Fucking great!” Taylor muttered to herself.
Inadvertently he’s set the time bomb off with that innocent comment.

John had not been seen and he also had a parking space in the same section as Lucy. The picture was now becoming clearer: John was leaving and Lucy was arriving. She had called the police and he knew that his face was all over the news, thanks to Peter. Did they meet by chance? Did she act differently? What let him know what she had thought of him? Fear, perhaps? She’d read the papers and knew what had happened to John’s victims and if it was him, coming face to face with him in a secluded area must have caused her to react. He, being the beast that he was, would have sensed this and wouldn’t be prepared to take the chance he was maybe wrong. Whatever happened, their meeting was a million to one chance with the timings and information; Lucy had now paid the ultimate price for being human and showing a little fear faced with the devil before her, poor thing.