Settled Blood (10 page)

She moved quickly on. ‘Adam Finch is our starting point. He was once in the Army Air Corps . . .’ She paused to let the information sink in. ‘And yes, he
was
a pilot,
although according to the guv’nor he currently has no licence. Later today, Hank and I will re-interview him, but I want to run this scenario past Jo Soulsby first, see if she can give us a
handle on the person or persons we’re looking for. Andy, put in a request to Durham Uni: I want all CCTV footage seized. Tell them we’ll be along later in the day – get us an
office up there, if you can. If you come up with any leads, feed them back through Robbo, who’ll coordinate things this end. Robbo, I want you to get in touch with this artist woman, make
arrangements for her to come in and see me.’ She handed over the business card for Fiona Fielding that Finch had supplied. ‘Kevin, caravan, now! The rest of you can go.’

In the privacy of the Mobile Incident Unit, Hook stood to attention. He was far less cocky than he had been a minute ago as he waited for a dressing down.

Daniels was far from happy. ‘Your supervisor tells me you have your sights on a transfer to the murder investigation team. Problem is, we only have vacancies for people who can be
discreet.’

‘Pardon, ma’am?’

‘Don’t come the innocent with me, Kevin. I saw that little display in there. Carmichael is a bloody good operator. She doesn’t need distractions. Know what I’m
saying?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Well, if you do want a permanent posting with us, I suggest you think long and hard before notching up any more of my team on your bedpost. Last night didn’t happen, got
me?’

Hook nodded, his face going red.

Daniels walked out.

After agreeing to meet up with Gormley later in the morning, she got in her car and took the road to Newcastle. Traffic was light and she made good time until she reached Jesmond. At the top of
Osborne Road, a diversion had sprung up, re-routing vehicles along St Georges Terrace and then left on to Acorn Road – a nightmare at the best of times.

In a long line of vehicles, she sat tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, concerned that she might be late for her appointment with Jo. Bored waiting, her eyes scanned the parade of shops:
a mini-market, a newsagent, a couple of bakeries, a hardware store and Boilerhouse, her favourite hair salon. And soon she was out on to Osborne Road again, an area transformed in recent years.
Hotel bars had terraces fronting on to the tree-lined street and, even at this early hour, the café culture was thriving. A few minutes later she arrived at Jo’s front door.

She took a deep breath and knocked . . .

T
hey kissed gently, a peck on each cheek. Jo Soulsby looked relaxed. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a deep pink shirt, a hint of cleavage on show. Daniels followed her
into the house and through into the kitchen where she made coffee and left it to percolate. Daniels went to use the bathroom. She found Jo in the living room a few minutes later, curled up on the
sofa cradling a cup of coffee in both hands. The Dixie Chicks were singing about a Travelin’ Soldier in the background.

Daniels sat down, watching Jo.

It was difficult not to.

She couldn’t help wondering if Jo and her friend Kirsten Edwards were intimate and, if so, how serious the relationship between them was. They had known each other since university.
Kirsten was Irish, stunning and a successful businesswoman – former North East Woman Entrepreneur of the Year. Daniels had Googled her more than once in the past few weeks.

‘What’s wrong?’ Jo asked. ‘Something happening on planet Kate?’

Daniels blushed. Her ex had always been able to read her.

Jo waited patiently for an answer.

‘How’s Kirsten?’ Daniels asked, regretting the words the second they were out of her mouth. Asking such a personal question made her sound like a jealous teenager, unable to
cope with the thought that another girl had taken her place. She’d met Kirsten during her last case, could smell the woman’s distinctive perfume as soon as she’d entered
Jo’s bathroom.

‘Kate?’

‘Sorry?’

‘I said, I’m not going there again.’ Jo held up the briefing notes Daniels had sent her before leaving the MIR. ‘I thought you were here to discuss this? I also thought
we were past all that.’

‘We are! Hey, I’m cool with it. Doesn’t mean I’m not interested in how you’re doing.’
Quit digging
. ‘I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just,
well, you and Kirsten seem to be spending a lot of time together lately.’

‘Depends how you define a lot—’

‘She was here last night!’

‘That makes once.’

Daniels grinned. ‘Last Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday.’

Jo’s eyes blazed. ‘You’re keeping obs on me now? D’you know how insecure and weak that makes you seem?’

‘God, you make it sound like I’m stalking!’

‘Are you?’

Daniels looked away. The room temperature seemed to have dropped several degrees. Jo felt it too. She silenced her iPod, then leaned across and lit a flame-effect gas fire to take the chill off
the room. The sun would flood in later in the day, but Daniels would be long gone by then. Jo sat up straight and quickly changed the subject.

‘How’s the shoulder?’ she asked.

‘Good.’ That was a lie. Daniels pointed at the briefing notes. ‘You’ve read those?’

‘Yes, poor Amy . . . Any news on Jessica?’

Daniels shook her head.

Jo pushed a pile of Sunday newspapers on to the floor, placed a cushion behind her back and made herself more comfortable, crossing one long leg over the other. She was wearing Havaianas. Her
toenails were painted to match the exact colour of her shirt. She was good at that: outfit and nail polish carefully chosen and worn with style, making it look like she hadn’t tried too hard
– hadn’t tried full stop.

Daniels pushed on. ‘First impressions?’

‘Not good, I’m afraid,’ Jo warned. ‘As you well know, staging a crime scene is usually done to suggest a false motive. In this case, it seems to me that your offender has
done the exact opposite.’

‘I agree. He’s trying to draw attention, not deflect it. And he’s doing it to scare the hell out of Adam Finch . . .’ Daniels went over what she knew so far, telling Jo
she too had a nasty feeling about the case. The offender had gone to a lot of bother. He’d been very thorough, selected a perfect body double in Amy, dressed her in Jess’s clothes and
dumped her in a remote spot, miles from home. ‘Mission accomplished, once that happened: Finch is forced into the worst corner possible, viewing a dead body at the morgue. It might not have
been his daughter on the slab, but it was the knife going in. His agony goes on . . .’

‘What’s your opinion on motive?’ Jo asked.

‘Well it isn’t about extortion, which was our starting point when we thought the dead girl was Jessica Finch. Bright floated the idea that her abductors might’ve been spooked
into getting rid of her, hoping to cop a ransom before she was found. But that doesn’t make sense in light of what we now know to be true. No, whoever took Jess and killed Amy is callous and
loathsome. They want to make Finch suffer in the worst possible way.’

‘I think you’re right.

‘I think so too. Question is, am I looking at the case arse first?’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Amy was discovered in the middle of nowhere, right? What if our man, assuming it is a man, manipulated discovery by a third party? I mean, dumped Amy’s body near Hadrian’s
Wall not so she
wouldn’t
be found, but so she
would
? Doesn’t this smack of some macabre game to you?’

‘Yes, it does. One the killer wants to win.’

‘He’s taken huge risks to show absolute contempt for Finch; as a punishment, I suspect. How am I doing so far?’

Jo smiled. ‘Can you hear me arguing?’

‘But why, Jo? What would drive someone to such lengths? What God-awful thing did Finch ever do to elicit such hatred from his tormentor?’ Daniels hardly stopped for breath.
‘And another thing. What self-respecting offender would leave a very valuable piece of jewellery at a crime scene?’

‘You think that was deliberate? Some sort of message?’

Daniels shrugged. ‘It was a one-off piece, easy for us to identify.’

They sat for a long time deep in thought. They had worked many cases together over the years but this one sank to a new low. Allowing Jo time to process her theories, Daniels’ eyes
travelled round a room she felt entirely at home in. She’d spent many happy moments there.

Many intimate moments
.

She looked back at Jo. ‘There’s something else; something not quite gelling with me. If Amy’s parents had come forward to report their daughter missing before Finch did, then
the killer’s efforts would’ve all been in vain. Unless—’

‘Unless he’s manipulating you too,’ Jo said, interrupting.

‘How d’you mean?’

‘The way I see it, he made sure that wouldn’t happen. He waited until the eleventh hour to take Amy Grainger. In your report, you said Finch was under surveillance. There are only
two certainties here, Kate. One –’ Jo held up a thumb – ‘this is a highly organized offender you’re up against. And two –’ she added a forefinger –
‘there’s absolutely nothing haphazard about this abduction.’

Daniels had been afraid Jo was going to say that. She rubbed her right temple, trying to ease the pressure in her aching head. ‘Recidivist, d’you reckon?’

‘That’s impossible to say.’

‘But he’s been in risky situations before?’

‘Yes, and he’s not afraid. He’s in control and he’s really fucked up. But . . .’ Jo glanced at the papers in her hand. ‘Not a sexual predator, I
see—’

‘Apparently not. Amy’s underwear was intact. There were no signs of sexual assault and no defence or restraint marks. I’m assuming she was drugged very early on. At least,
I’m hoping she was.’

‘I was making an observation,’ Jo said. ‘Not asking a question.’

‘I’m sorry?’

Jo held Daniels’ gaze for a beat, making sure she had her full attention. ‘The underwear issue could be hugely significant. Or, and this is vitally important, it could have no
relevance at all.’

‘That’s helpful.’ Daniels’ frustration was beginning to show. ‘And your point is . . .?’

‘It wasn’t part of the killer’s master plan. Think about it. Swapping the outer clothing alone has put the fear of God into Finch. In my humble opinion, we have two scenarios
here. Either the offender was simply running short of time, or leaving the underwear intact actually mattered to him. In my view, it’s the latter. He’s letting us know he’s no
pervert.’

Daniels almost laughed out loud, but Jo’s grim expression stopped her. ‘You’re seriously suggesting that he’s so fucked up he’s prepared to kill Amy but not to take
away her dignity by making her strip?’

‘And in doing so he’s made a big mistake.’

Daniels frowned. ‘I’m not with you.’

‘He’s given away more than he planned to. He didn’t want to degrade her, Kate. Just use her to hurt someone else.’

‘You’re not telling me he cares! He threw her out of an aircraft at approximately two hundred feet!’

‘I get that. Make no mistake, this man is unhinged. He’s playing to his own set of rules. Even the most dangerous offenders have a line over which they will not cross.’

‘He’s way past that, surely?’

‘Not necessarily.’ Jo was quiet for a while. ‘Some prostitutes will shag anyone for money, right? Give their clients a hand job, a blow job, whatever turns them on. What
won’t they do?’

‘Allow their clients to kiss them on the lips.’

Jo nodded. ‘Because?’

‘It’s too personal. That’s their bottom line and it keeps them in control.’

‘Exactly. So what does that tell you?’

Daniels was silent for a moment. And then she suddenly realized where Jo was heading. Her next question was one she felt compelled to ask: ‘You’re telling me he’s a
father?’

‘I’d bet my job on it.’

Jo’s words hung in the air between them.

Daniels’ mobile rang, startling them both: Hank calling.

Ignoring it, Daniels said, ‘Hank doesn’t like Finch.’

‘That’ll make him guilty then!’ Jo was being ironic.

They both laughed, not because it was all that funny, but as a way of releasing the tension. Jo had grown to like Gormley during the time they had spent together at a safe house when it was
thought that she’d unwittingly become the target of one of her clients, a man who’d killed several times. It wasn’t until later that the murder investigation team found evidence
that it was actually Daniels he’d been watching. And
she
certainly didn’t need reminding of his name.

Joining Jo on the sofa, Daniels opened the murder file. Inside there were crime-scene photographs, statements and criminal records checks on Adam Finch and key members of his staff: Pearce,
Townsend and Mrs Partridge. ‘There’s nothing recorded against any of them,’ she said. ‘Apart from a spent conviction of urinating in a public place when Pearce was eighteen
years old.’

‘And the Graingers?’

‘Bloody snow white . . .’ Flipping pages, Daniels reached her notes on the bereaved family. ‘Not so much as an unpaid bill or a row with the neighbours. They come across as a
lovely couple on paper and in person. They’re totally devastated by this.’

‘Adam Finch is the only pilot among them?’

Daniels nodded. ‘Claims he hasn’t flown for years, hasn’t even got a licence any more. It lapsed a long time ago.’

‘Doesn’t mean he can’t still fly.’

‘That’s very true.’

‘May I?’ Jo pointed at the file.

As she leaned over to take it, her hand brushed Daniels’ lap. They hadn’t been this close in months and it made Kate’s heart race.

‘It can’t be Finch,’ she said, trying hard to focus. ‘I’m certain Amy was killed to punish him.’

‘I am too, unless . . .’ Jo didn’t finish.

Daniels looked at her. ‘Unless what?’

Jo didn’t answer.

‘Go on, what were you going to say?’

‘If it is Finch, then he’s lost the plot completely and the whole thing is even more elaborate and contrived than I first thought. However, if you’re right and it’s
someone else, someone who’s prepared to kill to get back at him, then this goes way beyond anger. This is hateful rage. The suffering is all part of it, Kate. And I’m betting it’s
someone he knows personally.’