Fifty Two Weeks of Murder (25 page)

Chapter 4

Anders stood in front of the forty or so people that now occupied the Hub. She’d managed large teams before and enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, but this time, all she felt was a great sadness at the loss of Mal. Most people stood, leaning on walls or desks and faced her with blank expressions, waiting to see what she would do. A few sat on chairs and they were the original occupants of the Hub. Abi, visibly upset, comforted Helen as she sobbed quietly, a tissue pressed to her nose as she grieved. Anders wished that she could grieve so openly.

Ben sat next to Duncan and Barry, taking comfort from their presence. His eyes were red and raw. Jesse stood behind Anders, giving her his unofficial support as she addressed the group. Most hadn’t known Anders beyond her being the “quiet but fit one” or “the intense one”. Most had found her intimidating and so had steered clear. They now gazed at her with open curiosity, her past now splashed over the tabloids and many were changing their previous appraisal of her.

“I’m not Mal,” she said. “Nor will I try to be. Buckland is still out there and we need to find him. Whatever it takes, we will find him. And I’ll only do that with your help and support. Stay focused, stay alert and stay sharp. I want every detail reported to me, no matter how insignificant you think it is. I want ideas, I want creativity and I want you to think outside of the box. Be autonomous, but you get back to me.” She turned to Barry, who sat up smartly as if being addressed by a commanding officer.

“Where are we with the building checks?”

“Three more found boss. Nottingham, Surrey and City Centre. I checked the city one this morning and have sent a crew to the Nottingham and Surrey sites. No luck. Deserted and abandoned warehouses or estates.”

“Which means what?” asked Anders. She knew the answer but wanted the team to find it. One man put a nervous hand up. He looked about twelve to Anders and spoke with a stammer.

“He…he knows we’re ch, checking his buildings.” Anders gave him her best smile.

“Good work Harry,” she said and he glowed with pride that she knew his name. “Buckland knows how we’re finding his locations. The explosion tipped him off.”

“Or his son did,” said Duncan.

“More likely that. We still tailing him?” Duncan shook his head.

“We didn’t get the warrant through.”

“Get a tail on him, I’ll get the warrant.” Anders had Jesse put on the projector and they started working through the murders linked to this week’s theme. Jack the Ripper seemed to be the most popular and it took a long time sort through the entrants. Anders assigned everyone their jobs and set them to it. As the group went about their work, a bustle of noise and activity in their wake, she beckoned the original team into Mal’s office.

She felt a pang of sorrow as she walked in and saw the first aid kit she’d used on him still on the desk. He’d hated his office and had rarely used it. Her eyes found the cabinet that she knew would be full of his shirts and jeans and she steeled herself against the pain that ravaged her, biting it back with venom.

Barry, Duncan, Helen, Ben and Abi followed her in, Jesse entering moments later and closing the door behind him. Anders sat on the desk, unwilling to sit in Mal’s seat and looked at them all. She knew that she had no choice but to be honest with them.

“You all know Mal and I had a…thing.” Barry was the first to speak.

“We all know. Don’t mean you need to be taken off this case because of it. We’ve already spoken and decided that it stays with us.” Anders gave them all a grateful smile.

“Thank you. That means a great deal to me. In terms of practicalities, Mal spent the evening with me last night. He received a phone call on his cell at one twenty two in the morning from McDowell. He’d been contacted by Buckland.” There was a sharp intake of breath as she spoke, a collective shock rippling through the team.

“Mal met with McDowell and decided to keep it to himself until he had something more concrete.”

“Buckland traced the phone didn’t he?” asked Jesse. Anders nodded.

“What was he thinking?” asked Duncan, more in frustration that anger.

“The same thing he was thinking when he barrelled into a house rigged with explosives or asking you to make a fake crime scene,” said Abi. “He wanted to stop Buckland. Mal hated him with every fibre of his being for what he represents. The very opposite of what Mal did.”

They thought on that for a moment, each recalling a different memory with Mal that they would treasure. Eventually Anders spoke, her voice soft in the silence.

“Buckland’s blog came out a day early because Mal forced his hand. He killed him but didn’t want the body found before he’d written about it and published his photos. We all know what that means.”

“Someone tipped him off,” whispered Abi, a horrified look at the bustle of activity outside the office. “But I thought only us lot knew.” There was an awkward silence in the room as realisation dawned on them. Anders was the first to speak.

“It’s no one here,” she said. “Let’s be clear on that. But we need to be vigilant. Barry, I want you to find the pressure points in what we did last week. Who could have known? Follow the evidence.” He nodded, a thoughtful look on his face.

“I’ll need Jesse to help with that.” Anders looked to Jesse and he nodded.

“I’m about done with the registry, so should have some time spare.”

“Good. Ben, help them out too. You’re good at analysing frameworks. Helen, will you be okay without Ben for a while? I can chip in if you need.” She nodded her head and spoke quietly, grief infusing her emotions as she spoke.

“I can get by with the SCO team. I’ll let you know if I need more help.” Anders thanked her and then dismissed them all.

“We’ve work to do. Let’s get to it. Every lead we cross off the list is one lead closer to Buckland.” As they shuffled out, she asked Duncan to stay behind. He’d removed the sling from his arm, but it was still swathed in bandages. Anders sat him on a chair and took the one opposite, still sitting on the same side of the desk, Mal’s chair an ominous presence in their periphery.

“You applied for the same post as me,” she said bluntly. Duncan nodded, happy to keep his council. Anders ploughed on. “Was that your only issue with me?” She didn’t need to say more. They both knew what she meant. He raised his hands in a placatory gesture.

“I don’t give a shit about that other stuff. You took my job, plain and simple.” He spoke truthfully, but Anders pressed on.

“What about now?” she asked. He responded quickly, having thought about it a great deal over the last three weeks.

“You should have been given Mal’s job, not the one I applied for. We’re all good, you and I.”

“You still want my old job?” Duncan gave a grimace.

“I do, but not if it means you get horribly murdered and I end up with your job.” Anders laughed and held out her hand. Duncan took it awkwardly in his left and gave her a lopsided grin.

“Assistant Chief Constable Phillips. How does that sound?” Duncan gave a nod of approval.

“I could get used to it,” he said.

Chapter 5

Anders pushed herself hard. Sprinting through the trees, she startled some deer and they galloped away as she burst from the woodland. Heart beating rapidly, sweat poured from her as she ran, cranking up the speed with every kilometre covered. She ran from her grief, from her pain. Focusing on her body, she ignored her aching muscles and tested her limits as she crossed the ponds and hit the roads, coming to the Richmond Hill gates ten minutes before they opened. Impatiently, she did some stretching exercises as she waited.

The warden was late that morning and he didn’t greet her with his usual smile and good cheer. She gave it scant thought as she sprinted through the gate and made her way through Richmond. Passing a newsagent, she saw the owner putting out the papers on the racks at the front and skidded to a halt. She was the focus of every tabloid and broadsheet. Most had photographs of Anders from the news briefing, but one had the entire front page dedicated to the picture of her clutching Aaron as she escaped from the Washington Whipper, covered in blood, her face a rictus of rage and anger. Her heart sunk at the sight, her first thought of Aaron at his new school. Above the picture, the headline was both inflammatory and lurid.

Transsexual cop; hero or psycho?

With a heavy heart, she finished her run and stepped quietly into the flat. Cassie was up and pacing the kitchen. She hadn’t slept and her make-up from the previous day was smudged. She’d also been crying.

“I’m so sorry,” started Anders as Cassie rushed to her, gripping her tightly. “I never wanted this to happen. Has Aaron seen it yet?” Cassie sobbed and nodded her head. The morning news had been filled with tales of Anders and the Washington Whipper, how Buckland had copied the killings and how Anders now ran the team to chase him down. Coupled with her past, the British press were having a field day.

Anders held Cassie for a long time. Eventually, she managed to gather herself and pulled from Anders’ embrace.

“Sorry. It’s just, seeing that picture again brought it all back.” She picked up the remote and started flicking through the channels, snippets of conversation blurting from the TV. They were all focused on one thing. The first channel started with a well presented reporter standing outside Scotland Yard. He was rattling off a lengthy list of criminals that Anders and her team had killed during her manhunts in America. Cassie clicked the remote to another station.

…sounds like this woman, or man, or whatever you’re meant to call
it,
is some kind of vigilante…

…how is she any better than the person she’s hunting…

…send a killer to catch a killer that’s what I say…

…so let’s talk about this transsexual aspect. Is she mentally stable?...

…it’s a disease, plain and simple. A sickness of the mind…

…she may be pretty but that just makes her more of an insult to all of the real women out there…

…the results of our poll are in. We asked whether you would sleep with Deputy Chief Constable Anders and you all answered with a resounding…

“Switch it off,” said Anders quietly. Cassie turned to her, anger colouring her cheeks. Anders had done so much for them and she hated to see her publicly derided for a choice made twenty years ago that made her whole as she saw herself. 

“Don’t listen to them. They’re all assholes.” Anders smiled at her venom.

“There’s only two people in this world whose opinion I care about and that’s you and Aaron. Do you know if he’s told anyone at school about me?” She nodded her head.

“First day at school. You saw his painting.”

“Ok. Both of you take the day off. Go back to work and school tomorrow. If it’s too much, then we’ll move on.” Cassie shook her head fiercely.

“We can’t keep running. It’ll die down eventually. Catch Buckland and they’ll all forget about it soon enough. Besides, it might mean they start looking at people like you in a better light.” Anders sighed heavily.

“I don’t want to be some figurehead. I just want to go to work, catch bad guys and come home to be with my family. Is that too much to ask?” Cassie smiled sadly.

“I guess it is,” she replied. “Go see Aaron. He’ll be dressed by now.”

Anders made her way to his room and found him sitting on the bed looking upset. She sat next to him and kissed his forehead.

“Hey you,” she said. “How you holding up?” He gave her a look with such big, sad eyes that her heart almost broke.

“Is that nice man dead?” he asked. Anders reflected that he was far too young to know about death but reasoned that not many seven year olds had been through what he had. She’d promised never to lie to him, so spoke the truth.

“He is, honey.”

“I liked him,” Aaron said, his voice full of sadness. Anders forced back her tears.

“I did too. Very much so.”

“Did my dad do it?” he asked, his voice full of fear. She gripped him tightly.

“No sweetheart. Your daddy is gone. You know that. He won’t come near you again.” She knelt on the floor, facing Aaron and tilting his head so he could see her.

“Things will be tough for a short while. People will ask you lots of questions about your dad and say lots of horrible things about me.” He gave her a soulful look, his eyes older than any man three times his age.

“Walk tall, stand strong. That’s what you said to me when you saved us.” Anders held out her little finger.

“I gave you a pinkie hug too,” she replied. He took her finger in his, a ghost of a smile flittering across his face.

“Catch the bad man Bumble. Make him pay.”