Killing for Keeps (11 page)

T
hey still didn’t know her real name. Maybe they never would. The leggy brunette lay sprawled in the mud, wet hair draped to one side, a large gash to the back of the
head, dead eyes staring at nothing, lips slightly apart. She was dressed in the same sparkly top, short skirt and thigh-length boots she’d worn on the CCTV. For a moment, Kate’s mind
played tricks on her. She could see her alive, smoking a black cigarette outside Grant’s nightclub, flirting with punters as they traipsed in and out the door – a tragedy waiting to
happen.

It paid to be clinical in situations like these. Kate was finding it hard. She was a person first, an SIO second, and death by homicide was never easy to deal with. Glancing back at the girl,
all she could see was congealed blood and brain matter, mascara-stained cheeks the colour of plaster. She didn’t need a forensic pathologist to tell her that Sky been struck with a heavy
object from behind. Or that wiping away her make-up would reveal a child of no more than sixteen, not long out of school.

In the pouring rain, Kate closed her eyes and tried to breathe, desperate to cover the kid up – afford her some dignity while she remained on this earth, but that wasn’t possible
because it would contaminate the body. Even after death, the unfortunate girl would be prodded, poked and forensically examined for trace evidence of who might’ve killed her.

Suddenly aware of Hank’s presence, Kate met his gaze, an unspoken message passing between them: there were times when the job was too much to stomach. He said something she didn’t
quite catch as another panda car arrived on the scene – blues and twos engaged. There was no need to hurry. Not now anyway. Maybe if help had arrived a couple of hours earlier, Sky might have
lived.
She might.
Kate glared at the officer who got out of the car. He hurried off in the opposite direction. Hank was asking if she was OK. She nodded, grateful for his concern.

‘Along with a bit of loose change, this was found in her pocket.’ His expression was sombre as he extended his arm, handing her the scanned image of an unborn child.
‘It’s dated last Friday. Should be able to get an ID.’

‘Whatever.’ She turned away, her comment drifting away in the wind. ‘Will anyone care?’ She turned back, letting out an audible sigh. ‘I’m sick of all this,
aren’t you?’

‘You don’t mean that. Sky needs us. She needs
you
.’

‘I know she does . . . I need someone too, Hank.’

It was a rare moment of vulnerability from the DCI. Hank had no answer. Under the parapet of the Byker Bridge they stood facing one another, police tape flapping in the wind, the rain hammering
down on the pavement beneath their feet in an area flooded with police cars and forensic vans, while officers rushed to erect a tent to preserve the scene and screen the body from prying eyes.
Others stood around, awaiting instructions on how to proceed – expecting Kate to take the lead, unaware that she wanted to walk away, get as far away from police work as she possibly could.
She wanted to give it all up and make a life with Jo. She’d need her later. She needed her now.

O
nly halfway through the third day of a major enquiry and Kate already felt jaded. Back at the MIR, the mood was sombre. Sky’s death – the fact that she was
pregnant had raised the tempo of an investigation that was escalating in seriousness by the hour. Fielding calls from all quarters, the DCI was being asked by the media to comment on yet another
murder in the city. Three in as many days made people nervous.

‘They’re screaming for a press conference,’ she said to no one in particular. ‘If they knew my schedule, they wouldn’t ask.’

‘Don’t worry about that.’ Naylor arrived by her side from his office. ‘I’ll sort it later.’

‘Thanks, guv, I appreciate that.’

‘On one condition.’ He dropped his voice. ‘I’m worried about you.’

‘Why?’ She met Hank’s eyes across the room. ‘Listen, if Gormley said anything—’

‘He didn’t. Grab your jacket and come with me.’ It was an order, not a request.

Leaving the incident room, they went outside to stretch their legs and get some air. As they would be pushing through into the night, Naylor insisted they nip across the road for something
decent to eat. The inevitable consequence of working long hours meant that detectives had to eat on the hoof: takeaways, sandwiches, crisps and chocolate. A few days into an enquiry they all began
to look and feel unhealthy.

‘Except Carmichael.’ Naylor had already begun to cross the road. ‘I notice she never eats anything green.’

‘What, guv?’ Kate practically had to run to catch up with him, dodging stationary traffic waiting for the lights to change. ‘Look, it’s nice of you to shout me lunch, but
I haven’t got time. Besides, it’s hardly fair. My team’s working flat out—’

‘And one by one they’ll be following us.’ He used the old cliché about armies marching on stomachs. ‘Whine all you like, but I’m not taking no for an
answer.’

They turned down Pilgrim Street, then right on to Mosley Street heading along the Diamond Strip, an area promoted by local businesses as Newcastle’s answer to London’s W1. It was
essentially two streets that ran from the Swan House roundabout to the city’s Central station. Streets that had chic-sounding, contemporary cocktail bars like Bijoux, Floritas, Baby Lynch and
Madame Koo representing the upmarket end of what the city had to offer.

The Living Room was on Grey Street, not far away. Naylor was well known there and got a table right away. Explaining that they were short of time – that he’d be putting more diners
their way in the course of the afternoon – he ordered Sunday lunch for two.

‘Any drinks?’ the waiter asked.

‘Water . . . Beer,’ Kate and Naylor said together.

The waiter hurried off.

Minutes later, he was back with their drinks, and not long after that steaming plates of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding arrived. Content that this was a working lunch, Kate picked up her
cutlery and got stuck in, bending Naylor’s ear about the case before he’d even raised his fork to his mouth.

‘So what do you reckon, guv, linked enquiry or not? Any number of punters could’ve slapped Sky on the head just because they could. She was a vulnerable kid. You know as well as I do
child prostitutes get beaten every day.’

‘Or maybe there was a motive,’ Naylor suggested. ‘Albeit a weak one. She might have been killed because she was carrying a baby belonging to one of her punters.’

‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘It’s more likely that Sky saw too much in the gents at Grant’s, don’t you think?’ She broke off as the waiter
returned, asking if their meal was satisfactory. They both nodded, thanking him. The food was delicious.

As she waited for him to move away, Kate felt reenergized, more able to concentrate on the case away from the distractions in the office. She should’ve eaten breakfast. Naylor had been
right to take time out. As Hank had so eloquently pointed out, Sky needed her, all the victims did. Through her they would get justice. She was the voice they no longer had. No way she would let
them down.

‘It’s your call,’ Naylor said. ‘What do you want to do?’

‘I want to run the incidents together. If it becomes clear that it’s a father-to-be who wasn’t ready to acknowledge a child, then it’s very easily hived off into a
separate incident.’ Kate put down her cutlery, propped her cheek up with her left hand, her elbow resting on the table. ‘I want to link it for two reasons. One: I don’t want my
guys taking their eye off the ball while we’re looking into this. Our priority has to be finding the evil bastards who are riding roughshod over our patch.’

‘And two?’

‘Sky worked the area surrounding Grant’s. A lot of the witnesses will be the same people in both incidents. I don’t want anything missed while we’re investigating her
death that might impact on the enquiry we’re already running.’ Kate paused a moment, unsure whether to be absolutely honest with him. ‘Guv, between you and me, there is a third
reason.’

Naylor put down his beer. ‘Which is?’

‘We might get a little more finance out of headquarters if they think the incidents are linked and the body count is rising and likely to rise further. That might make me sound like a
devious cow, but I’ve a feeling we’re going to need it.’

‘You are a very clever woman, Kate Daniels.’ Naylor smiled. ‘Go for it! I can’t imagine you’ll get any grief from Bright. By the way, what did he want to see you
about?’

‘He didn’t say. We got so caught up in the Allen family history, it must’ve slipped his mind. He’s coming back for the briefing later. I’ll let you know.’

Naylor looked away, not soon enough to hide his thoughts:
Must’ve slipped his mind, my arse.
Kate didn’t challenge him, just took the hint that it was something important if
Bright wanted to see her on a day he’d much rather be playing golf. For reasons she didn’t quite understand, that thought made her very nervous.

W
ith Kate’s blessing, Naylor split the team in two to ensure continuity and sent them off in pairs to eat. For operational reasons, it wouldn’t do to have both
detective sergeants missing at the same time. So he sent a DS with a DC, Hank and Carmichael first, a list drawn up for the remaining squad members to follow suit in a kind of tag-team
arrangement.

While Hank was away, Kate called Jo and Bright asking if they could get into the office for a briefing at five o’clock sharp. They both agreed. Another call to Vicky Masters’
landline went unanswered and, for the next three-quarters of an hour, a mountain of paperwork kept the DCI occupied.

Tackling only high-priority stuff, she dumped the rest in a pile to be dealt with later and tried Vicky again, but still she didn’t pick up. Putting the phone down, Kate slipped on her
jacket and left her office, arriving in the MIR at the exact same time as Hank returned from the restaurant.

‘Don’t bother sitting down,’ she said.

He looked at her, a guilty expression on his face. ‘Am I in trouble?’

‘Why, have you done something wrong?’

‘I was just—’

‘Sticking your nose in where it didn’t belong? That about sums it up, I think. We’re going out, that’s all you need to know, seeing as you can’t be trusted to keep
it shut.’

Hank received and understood the message. Slapping his left hand with his right, he tried to make light of the situation. Kate wasn’t laughing. Fearing a row, detectives working nearby
kept their heads down. Not that there had been many spats between the SIO and her trusted DS over the years, but it paid not to get involved when there was a falling out.

On the way out of the incident room, Hank dropped his voice. ‘Am I forgiven, or are you going to sulk all day? I hate it when you get arsy.’

T
hey arrived at Vicky Masters’ house bang on three-fifteen. There was no answer at the door so Hank bent down, lifted the flap on the letter box and peered in. He
listened. No noise from the flat whatsoever. No radio. No chat between mother and son. He stood up, shaking his head as a young woman arrived at the house next door pushing a double buggy with
identical twin babies inside.

She fixed them with a wary look. ‘Can I help you?’

So young, Kate thought. No more than eighteen, by her calculation, but already tied down for the next eighteen and looking like she knew it. Her eyes were dull with black circles underneath.
Something about her appearance struck a chord. It was the same downtrodden expression the DCI had seen a thousand times before. Pound to a penny she was in an abusive relationship. There were no
bruises visible. There never were. Those who inflict violence against women were often clever enough to strike where it wouldn’t show.

‘I’m trying to find Vicky Masters.’ Kate held up ID. ‘Any idea where she might be?’

‘She’s at the park with Nathan.’

‘Paddy Freeman’s?’

‘Yeah, I just came from there.’

The park they were talking about was popular, a spot much loved by locals, a place where they could play safely with their kids, walk their dogs, play tennis or kick a football around. Abutting
Castle Farm playing fields and Jesmond Dene – a nearby wooded valley – it was possible to get lost along its twisted paths and hidden walkways. With a child in a buggy, Vicky could be
away several hours.

Kate didn’t have time to wait. ‘Where did you see them exactly?’ she asked.

‘In the kids’ play area, near the pond. She can’t bear to be in the flat since, y’know—’

‘Yeah,’ Hank cut her off. ‘I can imagine it must be hard for her. Thanks for giving us the heads-up. We’ll make sure she hears of your concern. We’d love to stop
and chat but we must get on.’

The girl scowled at them as they got back in the car.

Angry that he’d dismissed her so abruptly, Kate told him off, pointing out that she might need the police one day and he’d done nothing to foster an opinion that they were in any way
approachable. Hank winced and apologized for not picking up on the abuse angle she was still banging on about, grateful that the park was only a few minutes away and hoping their arrival would
bring an end to his reprimand.

Kate managed to squeeze her car into the only available space in the small car park. Most times, it wasn’t possible to get in there. People visiting sick relatives at the hospital opposite
were charged inordinate amounts to park in the hospital’s own parking bays, so they often used the free one belonging to Paddy Freeman’s instead.

Getting out of the car, the detectives followed the path to the water’s edge, turning right towards the play area. There were scores of folks milling around, many with kids. Vicky and
Nathan were not among them.

‘Damn!’ Kate said. ‘We missed them.’

‘Unless they’re in the cafe.’ Hank pointed to the single-storey building behind them, a favourite stop-off point for hungry detectives passing to and fro. Good coffee and
snacks never went amiss when they were working flat out. Officers grabbed what they could whenever they could. ‘You want me to check it out?’

Kate nodded. ‘I’ll skirt the Dene. See if I can spot them. Bring me an ice cream.’

Hank didn’t move. His attention was drawn to something over her shoulder. Kate turned to see what it was. Vicky was sitting alone at a picnic table in the shade of an overhanging tree,
handing Nathan bread with which to feed the ducks. To the untrained eye, it was a happy scene replicated right across the park, except the girl was weeping.

‘You still want an ice cream?’ Hank asked.

‘What?’

‘An ice cream. Still want one?’

‘It was for Nathan, you daft sod, not for me.’

As he loped off in the direction of the cafe, Kate made her way over to mother and son. She sat down on the bench beside them and spoke without looking at the girl.

‘Vicky? How are you coping?’

The girl sniffed. ‘He won’t settle. He misses his dad.’

‘I can imagine,’ Kate said. ‘If it’s any consolation, he’ll stop fretting eventually. I’m not suggesting he’ll forget – you wouldn’t want
that – but it’s true what they say: time is a great healer. I can see you’re heartbroken. In the coming months you’ll see beyond John’s death and remember the good
times you had together.’

‘Thank you.’ It was almost a whisper.

‘You were helpful to me before,’ Kate said. ‘Now I need something more from you.’

‘I don’t have any more.’ The girl pulled a chunk of bread off a loaf and gave it to her son, who threw it at the ducks, hitting one of them on the head, making the rest
squabble over it and the child squeal with delight.

Kate stared straight ahead. On the field opposite, a few bare-chested young ’uns were kicking a ball around using their T-shirts as goal posts. One scored a goal and did a dance, emulating
the professionals he’d probably seen at a match or on television. She swivelled round to face the young mother. ‘I want to reassure you we’re making headway with the enquiry. We
already know who Theresa’s boyfriend is.’

The girl gave herself away, her hand freezing in mid-air as she offered more bread to Nathan.

‘I’m not blind, Vicky. I can see you’re terrified of him,’ Kate said. ‘But I need to find him fast. He has no idea that you’re talking to us. How could he? I
need answers because, believe me when I say that there are things about this case that make McKenzie seem like a really nice guy. I want to make sure you and Nathan are safe. Do you
understand?’

‘I can’t help you.’

‘Vicky, look at me, please.’

The girl turned her head away.

‘There’s always a nice way and a nasty way to deal with potential witnesses,’ Kate said, urging her to see sense. ‘Please don’t make this difficult for me, for
yourself. For what it’s worth, I believe you are an innocent in all this. I think you had very little idea of what John was up to, am I right? Vicky, please look at me.’ When she
didn’t respond, Kate tried again. ‘I happen to think you’re better than John and his kind. Isn’t it time to stop buggering about and tell me everything you know? I’m
trying to keep you safe, can’t you see that?’

She waited but still Vicky didn’t bite.

Kate was losing patience. ‘Look, if you don’t help, I’m sorry to have to say it, but you’re on your own.’

Silence.

Hank was back.

He handed Nathan a cornet.

‘Take him for a stroll,’ Kate said.

‘Boss?’ He raised an incredulous eyebrow. ‘Is this about before?’

‘Do it.’ Kate glanced at the boy’s mother, letting him know that they were halfway through a delicate subject. ‘Is that OK with you, Vicky?’

Vicky nodded.

‘What if he cries?’ Hank was beginning to panic.

‘That’s what the ice cream was for,’ Kate said.

Hank pushed the buggy away, muttering expletives under his breath.

Kate smiled inwardly. Served him right for talking behind her back to Naylor. He’d think twice before doing it again. They were partners, and partners didn’t grass, no matter how
well intentioned.

It was time to stop teasing him and get down to serious business. She turned to face Vicky, taking something from her pocket. ‘I didn’t want to have to do this, but you forced my
hand. I’m going to show you a photograph that you’ll never, ever forget. It’s John. Your John – or should I say, what’s left of him.’

The girl looked horrified. Her imagination was obviously working overtime.

Her comeback was emphatic: ‘I don’t want to see it.’

‘Makes two of us,’ Kate said. ‘I didn’t want to either. Now it’s the only image I see every time I close my eyes. You probably think I’m a cruel bitch. Well,
here’s the thing, in my line of work you have to be cruel to be kind sometimes. My job isn’t only chasing villains, Vicky. A big part of it is protecting the public. I have good reason
to believe that what happened to John may well happen to the man we’re searching for. As sad and awful as it sounds, John was collateral damage. I believe Arthur McKenzie is the real
target.’

At the mention of the name McKenzie, a flash of recognition crossed Vicky’s face, enough to convince Kate – not that there’d been much doubt in her mind – that he was
indeed Theresa’s boyfriend. All the DCI needed now was a little cooperation from this frightened young woman and she’d be on her way.

But things were rarely that simple.

‘Listen, McKenzie’s right to hide,’ Kate said. ‘I don’t give a shit what he has or hasn’t done. I just want to ask him some questions, find out what he knows
– and, believe me, that’s plenty. For starters, he knows who did this. And that the reason they killed John and Terry was to get at him. I need a statement from him. Vicky? Are you
listening? These are scary people I’m talking about. They won’t stop until they find McKenzie, and God help him when they do.’

Kate wasn’t getting through.

‘You ever wonder why I didn’t ask you to ID John’s body?’

Vicky’s eyes shifted from her lap to the DCI. ‘You said I wasn’t his next of kin.’

‘I lied. I was sparing you the heartache of finding out how bad it really was. I guarantee that when you see this photograph you’ll wish you’d cooperated before it came to
this.’

‘I won’t look at it. You can’t make me.’

She was weakening.

Kate was running out of ideas. She gazed into the middle distance. Hank had been once round the lake and was now walking back towards her, chatting away to Nathan like a proud father. Vicky
followed her gaze as the DCI kept her focus on the child, commenting on how much he resembled his dad.

‘So cute,’ she said. ‘I hope he gets the chance to break some hearts one day.’

‘Stop!’ Vicky stood up.

‘No, you need to hear this.’ Kate stuck the knife in and twisted it. ‘John and Terry were tortured to death. How long do you think you’ll last when they come for you?
You’re in grave danger and so is Nathan.’ Hank pulled up right in front of them. Kate bent down, stroked the child’s hand and then glanced up at his mother. ‘How do you
think these thugs are going to get you to talk? Ever thought about that?’

Reality was sinking in. A sob left Vicky’s throat. Grabbing Nathan up in her arms, she held him close, terror in her eyes.

‘I can offer you both protection if you tell me where I can find McKenzie and Theresa. It’s entirely a matter for you. Look at Nathan. Look at him! You can’t afford to say
nothing.’ Kate slid a card from her pocket and threw it on the picnic table. ‘Give me a call when you see sense.’