The Domino Killer (35 page)

‘Who’s Gina?’ Melissa said. ‘What’s going on?’

Joe stared out of his windscreen in disbelief. He clenched his jaw. Anger surged inside him.

‘She works for me,’ he said, a crack in his voice. He swallowed to keep back the tears; part anger, part distress. ‘No, more than that. Back when Ellie was killed, Gina was the senior officer in charge of the investigation to find her killer: your brother. She’s been in my life ever since then in some way or another.’

‘And my brother has just tried to kill her?’

‘He’s saying goodbye.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘For the first time, whatever life he’s built is coming unstuck. He killed a man on Monday night, for reasons no one knows. Then last night he was supposed to be the victim. He’s been found out. He must know his souvenirs have been taken. He can see all his secrets leaking out. So he’s having one last strike back at the people he sees as his enemies. Gina, for being the person who used to hunt him. Or perhaps, somewhere deep down, because he’d wanted Gina to catch him, to stop him, but she failed, so he blames her for turning him into what he is. And he’s hitting back at you, too, for shutting him out of his family, for humiliating him.’

‘Don’t make it about me! He’s got my daughter!’

‘I know, and I’m not. He’s always known this moment would come. So he’s having one last kick-out at those he blames. Maybe he blames me, too, because he knows he was seen. I could have stopped him. Psychopaths do that.’

Melissa put her head back and covered her face with her hands. ‘What about Carrie? Where do we start?’

‘His house.’

As Joe drove, Melissa called her ex-husband. She tried to stay calm, just a tremor to her voice giving her away, but she ended up throwing the phone into the footwell. The cover came off the back and the battery sprung loose.

‘He thinks it’s my fault,’ she said, tears streaming down her face. ‘Because I made her stay in Ancoats, because he thinks it’s too damn rough for Carrie, and I should have kept a proper eye on her. He can’t blame me for this. It’s not fair.’

Joe reached across as he drove. She gripped his hand. Her jaw was set, her gaze determined. She needed her daughter back.

After a journey that seemed to take too long, they turned into Proctor’s street. The police were already there, two marked squad cars parked outside, the lights still turning so that the street was lit up like a nightclub.

Joe pulled up alongside the kerb. ‘Wait here.’

‘No, I’m coming with you.’

‘Please, stay here,’ he said, more sternly this time. ‘We don’t know what’s going on in there. Please let me check it out.’

Melissa didn’t respond. She understood the unspoken truth, that her daughter’s body might be further along the street. She just couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge it. Instead, she turned her head to look out of the window.

There was no one with the police cars, although lights were on inside the house. Joe walked onto the drive. He swallowed. His heart was beating hard, his mouth dry, his mind still reeling from the call about Gina, but he was sickened most by the thought that Proctor had taken another child.

Joe walked straight into the house. There were voices coming from the living room. Male voices. Hectoring. Distorted conversations came from police radios.

Joe pushed at the door. As it swung open, three uniformed officers turned round. There was a woman sitting down in a chair, her face bruised.

‘Helena?’ Joe said.

‘Are you Mark Proctor?’ one of the policemen said, advancing towards him, his finger going to the button on his radio.

‘No, I’m his lawyer,’ Joe said, realising it gave him a reason to be there. ‘What do you want with my client?’ He spoke with an authority he didn’t feel.

The officer looked back at the woman in the chair, who just shrugged. She’d only met Gina.

‘It’s too early for you,’ the officer said.

Joe stepped forward and whispered to the officer, ‘Can I speak to you privately?’

The officer put his head back and rested his hands on his equipment belt. Joe didn’t drop his gaze until the officer relented and pointed towards the door.

Joe went out first and walked along the hallway towards the kitchen. The officer followed and then stood with his booted feet apart, his arms folded across his stab vest. The air was filled by the sounds of his uniform: the jangle of his equipment, the thump of his boots, the rustles of his jacket.

‘This isn’t what you think,’ Joe said.

‘You don’t know what I think.’

‘I do. You think I’ve come here to interfere.’ The officer stayed silent so Joe pointed towards the breast of his stab vest. ‘Any bodycam whirring? I’m not telling you anything if it’s going to be recorded.’

The officer shook his head. ‘No, it’s not.’

Joe exhaled and leaned back against the kitchen work surface. He looked at the floor, working out how much he could say, until he remembered about Carrie. It was no longer about Ellie or any of the others.

‘Mark Proctor murdered my sister many years ago. He’s murdered a number of people.’

The officer’s brow creased. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Joe Parker?’

‘Any relation to DC Parker?’

‘Sam’s my brother.’

The officer relaxed and leaned against the counter opposite. ‘How can you represent scumbags like him, if he killed your sister?’

‘Another time,’ Joe said. ‘Proctor has kidnapped his niece. I’m with his sister, the girl’s mother. ’

‘That’s why we’re here,’ he said. ‘We got the call but he’s not here.’

Joe was interrupted by the sound of someone rushing into the house. ‘Joe?’ It was Melissa.

‘In here, in the kitchen,’ he shouted.

There were footsteps, quick and urgent. She was holding her phone in the air. ‘I put my phone back together,’ she said, her voice coming in gulps. ‘He’d left a message. Mark, he needs money. If he gets it, he’ll let her go.’

The officer clicked the button on his radio and began to call it in, providing the latest information, more urgency in his eyes at the sudden realisation that he was in the eye of the storm.

‘Did he say where he was?’ Joe said.

‘No, but he was outside. And I could hear her. She was crying. Oh God, I could hear how frightened she is.’

‘Pass me the phone.’

She handed it to him. The line was still open, the answer machine telling him to press 2 to hear the message again. He pressed it.

After a few seconds, Proctor’s voice came on: ‘Hi, Melissa. It’s me, Mark, the brother you turned your back on. Well, times have got tough for me. I need help. I need you to come in for me, to remember that you’re my sister. I need money. A lot. A hundred thousand. I know your husband can get his hands on it. You think I haven’t kept an eye on you? I know about your family, and I know he can release the funds. I’ve seen the cars he drives, the places he goes to. Get me a hundred thousand and I’ll disappear, you’ll never see me again.’ A few deep breaths, as if he was exerting himself. ‘A little incentive. Say hi, Carrie.’ High-pitched sobs, muffled and indistinct. ‘There you are, Melissa. Do it for me. Or for her. Either way, I don’t care. Just do it. Transfer it into my account.’ He reeled off a sort code and account number. ‘I’ll know when it’s gone in. Goodbye, Melissa. Stay safe.’

The call ended.

Joe rushed past the officer and back into the living room. ‘Helena, where does Mark go?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Helena said, startled.

‘You know him best. He must have somewhere quiet he goes to when he wants to be alone, somewhere different to his workshop.’

Helena shook her head. ‘I wish I could tell you, I really do,’ she said, tears in her eyes. ‘We have our own secrets, let each other live our lives. I don’t know as much about Mark as I thought I did.’

‘Nowhere comes to mind if he was hiding out somewhere?’

‘No, sorry.’

Joe turned round, despairing. Melissa was standing there, ashen, her hand over her mouth, tears running down her face.

The officer who’d gone to the kitchen stepped forward and put his hand on Joe’s arm. ‘Go home, Mr Parker. Both of you. Someone will be there soon to stay with you, but you can’t do anything here.’

Joe knew he was right. He went past him and took Melissa’s hand. ‘Let’s go,’ he said, and led her out of the house. There were hard times ahead.

Sam ran from his car and towards Gina’s house, the small cul-de-sac now filled with police cars and white vans. There was movement all around him: the crime scene investigators arriving, setting up perimeters; uniformed officers knocking on doors to reassure people.

He’d been there earlier, giving Gina a lift home, and it had seemed so safe, just a suburban block on a family estate. When he returned, the lights on inside seemed so much more menacing.

There was an ambulance outside the house, the back doors open. As he got to it, he looked inside. Gina was lying down.

‘Gina?’

She lifted her head. ‘I’m all right, Sam.’

He stepped into the ambulance. Her cheek was swollen. ‘What happened?’

‘Mark Proctor tried to kill me.’ Her voice was hoarse. She closed her eyes as tears welled up. She swallowed and grimaced.

Sam went to her as if to hold her hand, to be some comfort, but she shook her head. ‘No, Sam. Thank you, but I’m not going to let him beat me. I’m strong enough to get over this.’

‘Did he…?’

‘No, he didn’t rape me, if that’s what you’re thinking. He wanted to kill me, that’s all. At least you’ve got an excuse to arrest him now.’

‘We should’ve realised you were in danger. I let you go in there alone.’

‘I go in there alone every day. You’re not at fault.’

Sam looked out of the rear door of the ambulance. Neighbours were watching from nearby windows, some gathering on doorsteps further along. Brabham appeared.

‘Gina?’ Brabham said.

‘In here,’ she shouted.

Brabham scowled as he leaned against the ambulance. ‘Who’s behind it?’

‘Mark Proctor,’ she said.

Brabham glanced at Sam, expecting some kind of
told you so
, but there was no room for that.

‘You should have told me,’ Brabham said to Gina.

‘I was going to,’ she said. ‘We just wanted to get things straight first.’

‘We’ve been looking for him all day.’

‘And my brother,’ Sam said.

‘Where is he?’

‘It wasn’t Joe last night,’ Gina said. ‘I know who did that. There was a girl killed on the same spot seven years ago – Katie King. Her father killed the man last night. Gerald King. He’s your killer.’

Brabham’s mouth fell open.

‘So you can forget about arresting Joe and help him instead,’ Sam said. ‘He’s with Proctor’s sister, Melissa. Proctor has taken his niece, Melissa’s daughter.’

‘I was just getting up to speed on that. There’s someone on their way, but we’ve got more people looking for him.’

Gina sat up when she heard that. ‘What do you mean, he’s got his niece?’

‘Just that. He snatched her outside a youth club.’

‘Do you know what car he’s driving?’

Brabham shook his head. ‘He burnt his own out and left the hire car at the scene of the murder last night, so my guess is another hire car. We’ll got someone speaking to the airport places, because they’ll be open and be able to access the databases.’

Sam put his head back and let out a long breath. ‘What now?’

It was Gina who spoke. ‘We’ll find him.’

‘You’re not fit,’ Brabham said.

Gina ripped off the device attached to her finger that measured her pulse and clambered off the stretcher. She pushed past Sam and shouted for Brabham, grimacing at the pain in her throat. ‘You’re not my boss,’ Gina said, and then to Sam, ‘Give me your car keys or drive me to Joe.’

‘You can’t, after what you’ve been through.’

‘Try and stop me,’ she said. ‘Where’s your car?’

‘Round the corner.’ Sam pointed.

Gina set off running. ‘Come on!’

‘You can’t go,’ Brabham said, grabbing Sam’s arm.

Sam looked after Gina, who was hobbling round the corner. ‘I’ve waited seventeen years for this,’ Sam said. ‘I don’t care what it costs, I’m going.’ He pulled his arm away.

Sam ran around the corner, where Gina was waiting.

‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ he said.

‘You’re not the only one who’s waited a long time for this. Now drive.’

Sam unlocked his car and jumped in, Gina alongside.

‘Mark Proctor,’ he said, his tone determined, his eyes fixed in concentration. ‘We’re coming for you.’

As Melissa opened the door to her apartment, silence greeted them. Joe hadn’t met Carrie yet, she’d always been out or in bed when he’d been round, but the atmosphere seemed much more hollow. There were echoes as they walked.

Melissa was walking quickly, frantically, and she went straight into Carrie’s bedroom. She collapsed onto her bed and pulled the pillow around her face.

Joe watched from the doorway as she sobbed. He felt impotent, helpless, and swathed in guilt; Melissa’s brother might be behind it all, but Joe had helped bring it back to Melissa. Everyone since Ellie somehow came back to him. He’d had the chance to do something about Mark Proctor and hadn’t.

He turned away and went to the window in the living room. It was a view he was unaccustomed to, different to the comfort of his own apartment. Here, the water seemed so much more threatening. It ran brown and murky under low bridges, the towpath lined by piss-soaked narrow passages as it cut through a dark and open wasteland. The lights of Ancoats were like a perimeter, everyone locked away, the undeveloped centre always threatening. Was Carrie out there among the lights, or was she trapped somewhere in the darkness, scared at the noises of those who ventured out at night? Was Proctor with her, or was he somewhere else so that he could keep one last secret, one final bargaining chip?

It seemed so bleak and desolate out there, despite the lights from the apartment blocks. It was brighter on Melissa’s side of the canal, with restaurants and a pub close by, but still it was more shadow than light.

He checked his watch. Still no sign of the police.

Joe went back into the bedroom. He didn’t know what he was going to say. He felt as though he should apologise for the chain of events he’d started, but as he watched Melissa hug the pillow, tears making the cloth wet, he realised that it wasn’t about him or his guilt. Right then, it was about Carrie and Melissa.

He climbed onto the bed. He put his arm over Melissa’s body and pulled her into him. Her hand gripped his and placed it against her cheek.

He had to get her through this somehow. He owed her that much at least.