Made To Be Broken (9 page)

Lance Evans shook intensely as he perched on the edge of his neighbour’s pale blue floral sofa. The neighbour, Chloe Anderson, was in the kitchen making several cups of tea because that is what we do when grief strikes us in the heart of our community and homes, we make tea. It is the go-to soother of choice. It keeps hands and minds busy for those few minutes it takes to make it and once made it keeps the hands still of those grieving and those attending to them. It’s not about the hot steaming fluid itself. It’s the action and inaction it causes. So now, Chloe was creating her own distraction as a neighbour brought his life-altering, severe and hard-edged grief into her lounge as we attempted to talk to him. Cupboard doors banged and crockery clattered. And still Lance Evans shook. Tears spilling from his eyes, down his face and onto knees that jumped up and down from the balls of his feet.

‘It’s just you two at home is it?’ asked Aaron.

‘Yes. Yes. Yes it is. I mean ...’ He scrubbed his head with his hands. ‘It was. Oh God, no. What happened? To Ange? What happened to her?’

‘That’s what we’re trying to find out, Mr Evans.’ I kept my voice calm. Even.

‘And why are we here? Why can’t I go home?’ His voice was rising slightly. I willed Chloe and her tea to come through, imagining her actually hiding out in the kitchen to avoid this.

‘We don’t know what killed her.’ I’d had opportunity to speak with Jack as he examined the body, before I came into the house to speak with Lance. ‘Our pathologist is concerned it may be something she has ingested so we will need to search your home to see if the contaminant is there.’
Ingested
. We were now looking at something a whole lot more serious. Products were being contaminated. Our residents were being poisoned from who knew where. Our victims were scattered around.

I looked back at the broken man in front of me.

‘Our own home? But I’m fine.’

‘I know. So we’re going to go through some questions with you about diet and contents in the house a little later. Not right now.’

Lance Evans dropped his head into his hands and started to cry heavily. Chloe walked in with a tray in her hands. A teapot, three cups and a plate of biscuits, though I doubted anyone was in the mood for biscuits and Aaron wouldn’t have a drink. I smiled at her and she gave me a tight smile in return as she placed the tray on a side table before hastily retreating back into the kitchen. She had been hospitable offering up her home to us, but from what I could see, she didn’t really know the Evanses and was uncomfortable with the situation. I would make sure she was told we were grateful.

I poured out two cups of tea as Mr Evans let out his grief. Aaron sat quietly. Waiting until we could continue to speak with him.

‘Is there anyone we can call for you, Mr Evans?’ I asked.

He looked up. His face now red and bloated. ‘No, no one. Not here anyway. We only moved here recently because of my job. Ange was still looking for work, which is why she was out running at this hour. We didn’t need for her to work, but she said she needed to, she couldn’t stay at home all day and do nothing but keep house. She left a job to follow me here. We left everything for my career. She put me first. This should have been me. Not her. She didn’t deserve this. She was kind and generous and the brightest light in my life.’ His sobs started again.

Aaron looked at me, getting pretty uncomfortable now. So Angela Evans had no family around her to be in conflict with and she had already given up her career for her husband, so he wasn’t gaining anything by her death that we could immediately see. It seemed we had another brutal death and no strong leads.

Jack’s voice was tense as I answered the phone in my office. I could tell we had a problem.

‘It’s the same thing isn’t it?’ We were cutting out the small talk, the usual friendly chitchat today. This was bad news.

‘It is, Hannah,’ the pathologist replied. ‘The results are in from Angela Evans’ blood work, I had them put it through immediately. It’s positive for digoxin toxicity.’

‘Crap.’

‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of such bad news. The good news, if it can be called that, is it looks as though it killed her quickly with a myocardial infarction. She was obviously more sensitive.’

‘Any indications of how it entered her system, Jack?’

‘Well, as you saw at the PM a few days ago, there were no puncture marks, so that rules out injection. You’ve searched her home and asked her husband and neither of them was taking heart medication so she didn’t accidentally take too much. The most likely scenario is ingestion because, as with the previous two victims, there were no puncture wounds.’

‘I was wondering if we were looking at a product contamination case and you’re backing that up.’

‘Have your CSIs identified any item from the searches as a possible mode of transport into their systems yet?

‘No, they’re still working on it. With three addresses and a multitude of items to test, without knowing which ones to look at first, it’s taking longer than we’d like. There aren’t any items that match up across the addresses either so that’s not helping the situation.’

‘I can imagine. I’m sorry, Hannah. These cases are difficult to work. Have you heard from the offender, any demands?’

‘Nothing.’ I picked up my pen and started doodling on the pad in front of me. ‘So, as of yet, we can rule out blackmail. I can’t see any political gain from the victims or the areas, sabotage could well be our motive or just plain old excitement.’

‘That’s a scary thought.’

‘Isn’t it just?’

‘And on top of that, we’ve had no luck with any of the witness interviews from the bus that Finlay McDonnell died on.’

‘Whatever the cause of this, they’re making it far from easy.’ I nodded into the phone. ‘I’ll email you a copy of the report and post the hard copy. Let me know if and when you need me for any briefings at all.’

‘Will do, Jack. Thank you.’

Funny how we give thanks, even for the bad things in life.

He was optimistic. It had to be working now. There was no way they couldn’t be paying attention. He’d done too much.

He gently opened the door to Em’s room and checked on Connie who was curled up with her arms wrapped around Em’s pillow, her face pushed into it, her shoulders quietly shaking.

He closed the door. She never wanted to be disturbed at these times. This was her time with her daughter. A time when she felt connected to her. Through the space they were both sharing at different points, Connie believed she could feel Em with her. Anywhere else was just a desolate wasteland.

His hand squeezed hard at the injustice and the paper he was holding crackled, breaking the quiet on the landing. He loosened his grip and walked away, leaving his wife to her grief.

Downstairs, he put the
Nottingham Today
down on the kitchen table again. He didn’t need to open it up today, there was the story of the deaths right there on the front page. He was excited by what he would read. That his plan was working. That people were sitting up and taking notice.

The headline didn’t give much away as to the content of the article:

Nottingham Police Unable to Find The ‘Poison Killer’

It indicated there were deaths by poison but the police hadn’t yet caught him. That much he was already aware. He was excited to know what the rest of the article said. To read that the poison had been identified as digoxin. To see if the reporter had asked for quotes from the pharma companies and to hear their thoughts. He wanted to hear they were going to address issues with the drug, that because it was obviously a dangerous drug to the public, they needed to look at it in more detail and make sure it was doing the job it was intended for, as the risks with it were so high.

Isaac grabbed the coffee he’d made and pulled up the chair to read what the reporter had written.

He gripped the newspaper as he read, the crisp grey paper rustling in protest. There was no mention of what the poison was. Why hadn’t they mentioned the poison? Without that, his plan fell down. How would the pharmaceutical companies know, and the medical professionals? There was no mention of it being a heart medication. A heart medication that killed people. Why were they not looking at the big companies, pointing the finger at them?

His head pounded. His grip growing ever tighter on the back pages. The
Today
was only interested in targeting the police but the police weren’t the issue. He knew the police had a difficult job. He wasn’t going to make it easy for them. He’d watched a few crime shows. Not that he needed to worry about fingerprints or anything; it was all random and he wore thin gloves bought from the chemist. He was far away from the victims when he injected the poison into the items. He was going to keep going as long as he could, as long as it took for those who needed to notice, to notice and to actually care. That was the difficult thing. The pharmaceutical companies might notice. They might make the right sounds to the press but getting them to genuinely care was another issue. He had to keep going, keep pushing until they had no choice, until the public demanded they put all their billions into actually saving people, instead of lining their pockets.

The article ended. It was worthless.

With both hands he grabbed the paper up and screwed it into a ball, throwing it into the corner of the room.

He still had work to do.

Evie Small looked at me with a deep sadness in her eyes.

‘What is it?’ There was no smile. No laptop in her arms, no biscuits, just a newspaper in her hand. A newspaper. The
Nottingham Today
. My stomach lurched. What now?

‘Have you spoken to Ethan lately?’

Evie was the only person I’d trusted with the information about Ethan. I’d needed someone to talk to and she was the best friend I had. She didn’t judge. She listened and she cared. As EMSOU’s analyst we worked together often and in turn, drank together often, and we had become firm friends.

‘Not since the press conference. Why, Evie?’

She pushed the paper towards me and then wrapped her arms around herself as she stood on the spot. Not moving, her top lip pulled in as she bit at it. I sensed trouble. I opened up the paper and there it was. On the front page. He would be proud.
I
should be proud. I willed him on to do well but for it to be at the expense of me, of a job I was working?

Nottingham Police Unable to Find The ‘Poison Killer’

A 34-year-old woman has been found collapsed on her street in Toton, Nottingham, after going out for a jog. Paramedics tried to revive her but she died at the scene. Angela Evans leaves behind a husband, Lance.

The couple had not long moved to Nottinghamshire following a promotion that Mr Evans had recently accepted. The couple did not yet know anyone in the area.

Angela Evans will be the third victim of the so-called ‘poison killer’. His previous two victims are; Lianne Beers, 29, of Bramcote and Finlay McDonnell, 16, of Beeston.

When asked for comment Lance Evans said, ‘Angela was the sweetest, gentlest and most giving person.’ He pleaded for the killer to turn him or herself in and not to harm anyone else saying, ‘it’s not just the dead who are hurt, but also the living that are left behind.’

Nottinghamshire police has asked anyone with information, however small they think it might be, to come forward. Information can even be provided anonymously via the tip-line, number below.

Detectives are baffled as to the motive of the killer, as no demands have been received and no one particular product, item or source has been identified as being the target.

Police have stated they are working all the angles and will update the public as soon as they know anything further. They ask that everyone is vigilant and self-aware.

No one can say if the killer will strike again and if so, where that will be.

The Police and Crime Commissioner’s Office informed the
Today
that they are fully behind the investigation as they want to provide the grieving families with answers as to why their loved ones died and they need to provide the public with real assurances about their safety.

With this being the third victim of the killer we are now in the realm of a serial killer. Two words that the police will not want the public to worry about.

If you saw Angela Evans as she was out running or you are friends with her, please get in touch with police so they can build a picture of her last movements.

If you are a friend of Angela’s get in touch with the paper, let us know what she was like as a person. We’d love to hear from you.

How could he write this? How could he write this and not tell me? Yes, we were giving them quotes, but the rest of it …

Was he angry with me? Did he have a right to be?

I dropped the paper onto the mess that was already covering my desk.

‘Thanks, Evie.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Her arms were still wrapped tightly around her body, accentuating her waif-like figure.

‘What for? You didn’t write this. I’d look stupid if I saw him without having seen this first. So, again, thank you.’ I smiled. Or I tried to. What was I supposed to do about Ethan now?

‘I also need to worry about if Grey and Walker have seen it. He’s right, they won’t be happy with the words serial killer being thrown about. And how did he get a quote from Lance Evans? They’ve obviously waited for the Family Liaison Officer to leave before they’ve gone knocking on his door. Leeches. Lance Evans won’t have the ability to deal with it. He won’t know how to tell them to get lost. All he’ll want is his wife back, his life back. This violation of his space will be an unknown for him. Of course he’s going to say he loves his wife and wants the killer to stop.’ I was furious. Imagining the crumbling man I’d met on the street, having journalists banging on his door when he was alone and distressed. ‘I’ll speak to the FLO involved and make sure he tells Lance that he doesn’t have to speak to them and he doesn’t have to answer the door to them. Though, now he’s given them a quote I hope they leave him alone.’

‘And, how are you?’

‘If I don’t have to worry about you chewing half your face away,’ she let go of her lip, ‘then I’ll be fine. I’m not sure I can say the same for Grey though.’

‘How is he?’ She relaxed a little as we moved away from the subject of Ethan and his coverage of the investigation.

‘Stressed, as you can imagine. What with the PM results coming back from Angela Evans as digoxin toxicity, he’s feeling the strain. He’s getting pressure from Catherine. You know how she hates bad publicity and slow clear-up rates, anything that can reflect badly on her department. Then he’s going to see this from the
Today
. I’m sure I’ll get more of a feel for how he is when I see him at this morning’s briefing. Will you come in for it today, please? You might be able to help us out. Get details where everything has occurred, map it out and see what ideas you can come up with? Any help we can get we will be gratefully received.’

‘Of course, Catherine emailed early this morning about the case. Though I’m going to be at the opposite end of the room to Grey. Just in case he spontaneously combusts.’