Alec watched a huge oil tanker drifting past on its way to the Irish Sea and the Atlantic beyond. The vessel dwarfed the other ships and ferries that were on the Mersey, going about their business. The smell of the sea was drifting in on the breeze, and seagulls called to each other as they soared above the water. There was the roar of an engine and a loud splashing sound as a winch began to pull a vehicle from the murky green waters. He waved to the driver to stop the engine while they got ready to inspect the submerged Porsche. The recovery team had parked a breakdown truck at the top of a slipway, ten miles upstream from the unit where they had found Louise Parker. The slipway was on an isolated part of the river used by a local rowing club to launch their skulls. Unfortunately, its isolated position had done nothing to keep the press away. A number of uniformed officers were holding back a crowd of reporters.
“That lot are going to wet their pants over this,” Will said.
“How long have they been following the divers?” Alec asked.
“The first reporter turned up at the second dive site and a pack of photographers and news hounds soon joined her.” Will shook his head. “You know what they’re like. They live in each other’s pockets. You never get just one. They followed the divers from one slipway to the next and waited for them to find something. I bet their twitter accounts are buzzing!”
“Bloody hell,” Alec muttered. “There must be ten cameras up there.”
“The arrival of the head of Liverpool’s Major Investigation Team will have fuelled speculation that we have found something juicy to write about,” Will laughed. “When you turned up the Blackberries went into meltdown.”
Alec was furious. Despite his strict instructions, someone had tipped off the press. “I can’t fucking believe it!” He hissed beneath his breath. “Enquiries from the press and television news desks have swamped the telephones this morning.”
“It was bound to come out, guv,” Will said with a smirk.
“I didn’t think it would come from one of our own, Will.” Alec knew it had come from the team.
“Are you sure it has come from us?”
“I wasn’t sure at first,” Alec admitted, “but after a few quick calls to our press contacts, I found out that the Echo are about to reveal the details of the investigation in tonight’s edition.”
“How much have they got?” Will asked.
“My contact tells me they have the victim’s name and they’re in possession of the knowledge that there could be other victims linked to the case. The nationals will be all over it tomorrow.”
“What about the Oguzhan family?”
“Not yet, but it won’t take long.”
“That information could only have come from within the team.” Will spat into the water. He suddenly had a bad taste in his mouth. “I’ll put a month’s wages on who it is.”
“That doesn’t help, Will,” Alec warned. “We’ve been wrong about leaks before.”
“There’s no way of dragging the Porsche out without that lot getting an eyeful.” Will nodded toward the cameras.
It was the fifth access ramp the police divers had searched, and this time they had found a white Porsche lurking in the muddy river.
“Pull it out!” Alec waved to the recovery truck. The motor roared; the cable took the weight and began to pull. The rear of the vehicle came into view first, and Alec clocked the number plate, “Sal 1.”
“That is the Porsche driven by Salim Oguzhan,” Will said as the truck dragged the vehicle up the ramp.
Alec, Will and a SOCO approached it in silence, each one of them thinking their own thoughts about the fate of the vehicle’s owner. Water poured through the door seals from inside the vehicle. It became obvious that there was nobody sitting inside the two-seater. It was possible Salim had dumped the vehicle himself, but unlikely. The likelihood was he was rotting in the boot of the Porsche.
“Hold her there for a minute,” Alec shouted to the recovery team, which consisted of a group of divers and a breakdown truck. “I’ll check the boot,” the SOCO said. She walked towards the back of the vehicle and used a gloved hand to pop the boot.
“You’re wasting your time there,” Will laughed. “You couldn’t fit your weekly shopping in the back. All the room is under the bonnet.”
Will pulled rubber gloves on. They made a snapping noise as they hit his wrists. He opened the driver’s door and peered inside. Water gushed out of the foot-wells. The bonnet popped up as he clicked the release. Alec reached the front bonnet and lifted it up in one smooth movement.
“Salim Oguzhan, I presume.” Alec tried to hold his breath as the stench of putrid flesh reached his nose. He looked toward the snapping cameras and shook his head. “There is no sign of the boy. I think the spotlight is about to stop on us. How long before that lot connect this registration plate to Salim?”
“Tomorrow at a rough guess,” Will grunted. He was no fan of the press. They had crucified him when news of his affair had broken. “Linking Louise Parker to Salim won’t take them long either. What do you think?” Will asked the SOCO as she looked into the vehicle.
“Estimating how long he has been in the water is the post mortem interval, and it is difficult to judge.” She shook her head. The body was badly decomposed. “The temperature of the water is the most important factor governing the decomposition changes that you can see.” She took a pair of white plastic tweezers and pulled at the body.
“There are advanced signs of immersion and wrinkling of skin on the palms and soles. Loosening of the skin, hair and nails and the maceration of the hands and feet is equally well advanced and there is some complete detachment of the skin here, which indicates the decomposition is well into the second week. That’s the best I can do for now.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Alec stood up, happy the body was indeed Salim Oguzhan’s. He wanted to get away from the stench. “Who’s breaking the story at the Echo?” Will asked.
“Get this onto the truck please. I want it in the forensic lab as soon as,” Alec instructed the SOCO. “Make sure the body gets to Dr. Libby, please.”
“Yes, guv.” She barked orders to the uniformed men in the recovery truck. They worked at dragging the Porsche onto the back of the truck where they would hide it from view with tarpaulin. It was too late to hide the registration plate from the cameras, despite screens at the top of the ramp. Zoom lenses had captured it before it had come out of the water.
“She’s a Rottweiler called Lara Bridge, one of the youngest editors to work there,” Alec told Will. “Apparently she’s destined for one of the redtops, an ambitious type.”
“The worst journalists are ambitious!” Will laughed.
“Nothing wrong with being ambitious, but one of my team is talking to her, and I have a problem with that,” Alec frowned. “I have tried to fathom out why anyone would disclose details of the murder investigation. I can’t see why.”
“The only answers I can come up with are money or sex,” Will said. “Of course sex is always a motive to blab, but I wouldn’t believe one of our officers would be so stupid as to trust a reporter in bed.”
“Whatever their motives are, we need to silence the leak.”
“I think we should speak to Lara Bridge and get it straight from the horse’s mouth,” Will said.
“I’ll leave that to you,” Alec said. “Tell her we want to go public with the disappearance of Amir Oguzhan. If she is going to blow the case open, then let’s use the publicity to help us find him.”
“Okay, guv. I’ll call her to meet up when we get back to the station.”
“One more thing, Will,” Alec added as an afterthought.
“What?” Will took his phone out of his pocket and was ready to dial the reporter to arrange a meeting.
“I want Salim Oguzhan’s grandfather informed of his death, and I want to speak to him as soon as possible. No one else from the family, Will, I want to speak to his grandfather, okay?”
“No problem, guv.”
“Denise, I’ll be an hour, tops,” Dean held his sobbing wife tightly. Her tears were making his t-shirt wet at the shoulder. “I have to open the safe and drop off some money, Babe. Jackson has gone walkabout and Leon is in London. No one else can open that safe.”
“Your kids could be dead in an hour, Dean,” her body shook, racked with sobs. She thumped his chest with a clenched fist. A nurse came into the room and eyed them coolly. She was used to seeing families falling apart and squabbling while their children teetered on the edge of life and death. Some families cemented their differences and pulled together, but the pressure pulled others apart. Any rifts in their relationships became chasms, and blame and guilt became bitter weapons.
“Your children are hanging on,” the nurse said without looking at them. She was helping without appearing to interfere. “If there is something important you need to do, then do it now, and hurry.”
“I will be an hour, no more, I promise,” Dean lifted her chin with his hand and looked into her eyes.
“I cannot see what can be more important than your children.” She pushed his hands away and walked across the room. Her mother hugged her shoulders and glared at Dean. She communicated her opinion successfully without saying a word.
“Look, its work.” Dean sighed. “If anyone else could go, then I wouldn’t think about leaving the kids, but I have no choice.”
“What can possibly be that important, Dean?” Denise snapped. “Washing machines from China, mobile phones from Japan or pine scatter cushions from Timbuktu?” She put her head to one side and looked like a little girl. Mascara ran down her cheeks. “What can be so important that you would lie to me all the time, Dean?”
“What?” Dean raised his hands in despair. “What the hell are you talking about?” His guts clenched.
“Do you think I’m stupid, Dean?” She shook her head and wiped tears from her eyes. “Do you really think that I don’t know what that fat bastard Leon does?”
“Now is not the time,” Dean snapped. She was right. He had been a fool to believe that Denise would never find out what he did, a complete fool. She was not stupid. Her family and friends were from the areas Leon exploited. He was a name about town and everyone knew that Dean worked for him. “I’ll be an hour at the most. We can talk when I get back.”
Dean looked to his father-in-law for support, but Denise’s father couldn’t look him in the eye. He stared at the floor. It was obvious that the family thought it was outrageous to think of going to work when his children were in intensive care. Dean didn’t have a choice. If Leon’s men didn’t turn up at the docks with the cash, then there would be no deal, and all professional trust, built up over years would be lost. It wouldn’t take him long to open the safe and drop off the money. He didn’t have to execute the deal. He shrugged and headed for the exit stairwell. There was no other option, and he would be as quick as possible. What could go wrong?
Alec had called the entire team together. Graham Libby had a batch of crucial results to communicate, and there was a buzz of anticipation around the MIT office. Everyone was present except Kisha, and Alec noticed her absence. The digital screen flickered into life and Alec clapped his hands to get the room’s attention.
“Okay, we need to get started. You all know DS Eales, head of the Armed Response Unit. I’ve asked him to listen in, as we will be working together on the case from this afternoon,” he began. “Stevie, where is Kisha?”
“She’s out talking to key holders, guv.” Stevie looked at the screen where she had added a note beneath his data entry. “She has three people on her list. They’re all on one of Ashford’s’ key holder lists.” Stevie was annoyed that Kisha had gone out without him, but then again, he had done it first. She was a frosty bitch, no matter how hard he tried, she was not warming to his charms. She was probably a lesbian. He had heard the rumours, but he was convinced he could get inside her knickers. It was only a matter of time. He clocked the address she had gone to. It was a shithole near Anfield. Stevie was going to be nice to her and pretend to be interested in what she had to say when she came back. He decided to ask her out for a meal as a peace offering. A nice bottle of Chardonnay would go a long way towards getting her into bed.
“Why is she on her own?” Alec frowned. He was not one to reprimand officers in public, but the question was on everyone’s lips. It was common knowledge that Kisha and Stevie were not getting on, but there was protocol to follow and procedures to stick to. Interviewing witnesses alone was not encouraged.
“We decided to split the list of key holders between us and
save time, guv.” Stevie turned red as he lied. Smithy coughed behind a huge fist to communicate his disbelief. The big ginger detective was having none of it. Stevie had broken the rules by going out alone. Kisha had followed suit in protest at him leaving her to process data in the office. She was a good detective and deserved better than being chained to a desk. There were several sniggers around the room as Stevie wilted beneath their withering glances.
“Have you called her?” Alec raised an eyebrow. There would be a conversation about it later in private. Whatever was going on between Stevie and Kisha, he needed to nip it in the bud. Bringing personal feelings into the department was taboo. They couldn’t tolerate it, especially during such a crucial investigation. He expected his team of detectives to be more professional than that.
“Yes, guv, her phone is going straight to voicemail,” Stevie lied again. He hadn’t tried to call her at all. His eyes locked with Smithy’s and Stevie looked away immediately.
“Let’s get started.” Alec clapped his hands together. He took a few paces to the left, a deep frown on his face as he selected his next words. “First off, someone from this team has been talking to a reporter from the Liverpool Echo called Lara Bridge.”
The detectives in the room looked at each other in disgust. They shook their heads and whispered comments passed between them. The MIT was a close-knit group. Its members would not forgive betrayal easily.
“Tonight’s edition is going to headline our investigation into the death of Louise Parker. We have a leak in this room.” Alec scanned the faces in the room. His detectives looked stoic and returned his stare without flinching. All but one.
“We have had leaks before, and it always comes out who the leak is when this type of thing happens. It’s usually the end of someone’s career.” Alec checked their faces again. No one flinched, except one person, the same person. “There will be no witch hunt while this investigation is ongoing, however the leak will be investigated once we have made the arrests.” Alec looked annoyed, but there was important information to discuss. He would deal with the leak later and Kisha could catch up when she got back. Alec looked at the faces in the room. Everyone looked comfortable except Stevie. “Doc, when you’re ready.”
Graham Libby cleared his throat and tapped a button on his laptop. The screen on the wall showed a series of photographs taken from the hotel where they had found Louise Parker’s hand. An enlarged fingerprint appeared next to the arrest photograph of a prisoner.
“As you are aware, we found several prints in this hotel room, as one would expect,” he looked over his glasses as he spoke. “We identified one particular print which matched prints in your records, a Patrick Lloyd. Detectives questioned him during the investigation into the murder of a drug dealer some years ago, and they printed him at the time of his arrest. We analysed blood splatter found at the hotel and the DNA matches the samples taken from Lloyd. We know he was in the hotel room and we know he was bleeding, but we could not tie him to Louise Parker’s hand at that point. The print could have been left there weeks before the hand was found.”
The doctor removed his glasses and wiped them on his tie. “Please bear with me as there is plenty more to come.” He smiled, enjoying the pregnant pause. “Next I want to discuss the results of the samples taken from Louise Parker.”
The image on the screen changed, and pictures of her body began to flash across the screen. “We took samples of skin from beneath her finger nails, sinceshe must have scratched her attacker,” he paused. “There were several secretions taken from her hair. Apart from her blood, we found semen, urine and saliva, all from the same secretor. The DNA matches Patrick Lloyd.”
There was a silent hush in the room. The killer had urinated, ejaculated and spat on his victim. The detectives were thinking silently as they listened.
“God only knows what the Parker women suffered before she finally died,” the doctor added.
“At least we have a definite target to track down and catch,” Smithy muttered.
Stevie looked at his computer screen again and swallowed hard. The name rebounded around his mind. It was just a coincidence. It had to be. The scientist’s voice droned on in the background as a terrible reality hit him.
“The samples of blood and urine which were taken from the chair at the Parker scene match with the DNA samples which were taken from Salim Oguzhan’s home. His body was recovered earlier today, and initial inspection of his body show that he was tortured over a prolonged period. His eyelids were actually stapled open. The killer drove upholstery staples through the lids into the brow bone. The killer wanted him to watch whatever he did to the Parker girl. It is too early to establish the actual cause of death, but I am sure he was dead before he went into the water. His body was in the water too long for us to find any traces on him, but we found secretions around the chair which the killer tied him to. They, too, match Patrick Lloyd.”
Patrick Lloyd echoed around Stevie’s brain. Patrick Floyd, Patrick Lloyd. Could he have made such a basic mistake? He searched through the file of paperwork on his desk, looking for his original notes. They were not in any order, as he and Kisha had disagreed on the best way to collate the evidence. Now he wished he had listened to her. It had to be a coincidence. As he rummaged through his papers, he realised others were watching him. He was making more noise than he thought. Sweat began to run down the back of his neck and his hands were shaking as he looked around. The inspector was looking right at him.
“Is there a problem, Stevie?”
“No, guv,” he lied. His face was purple and his heart was beating like a rock drummer on acid. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple onto his cheek. He swallowed hard and folded his arms. He was in a huge dilemma. In an unsuccessful attempt to get a reporter called Lara Bridge into bed, he had teased her with the details of the investigation over a Chinese meal. She was young and pretty and had pretended to be keen on him. In fact, all she wanted was a source in the city’s MIT, and a letch like Stevie was ideal. He was a sad, lonely man with a high opinion of himself. He thought women should be falling over to climb into bed with him. When they didn’t, he put it down to the fact that they must be gay or frigid. She had played his game and let him grope her under the table for a while until he was hot and horny, then she had backed off. His touch had made her feel sick, but it had been a means to get her story. Whatever it took, it took. Stevie gave her more details and she rubbed his thigh for a bit as she asked questions, keeping him on the hook. When he had given her everything he knew, he had made some stuff up to keep her interested. He had thought he was taking her home for dessert, but when the bill had arrived, the bitch had laughed at him and grabbed her coat. She had gone without contributing to the price of the meal and left him high and dry. Stevie couldn’t believe she had led him on so well. The silly bitch was about to blow the case open to the public, and he didn’t have anything to show for his betrayal. She had promised she would keep it under wraps until they had a clear suspect, but she had lied. He had been so desperate to get her in his bed that he had disclosed information that only the MIT members knew. Now the inspector was looking for a mole. It wouldn’t take him long to find out who it was. He could feel his career shattering into a thousand pieces. To make things worse, the name Patrick Lloyd was bouncing around his brain.
“Shall I continue, inspector?” The doctor frowned and sighed dramatically. The interruption was most unwelcome, as he was eager to disclose his team`s findings. Alec smiled and nodded for him to continue. He wondered if the doctor would stop frowning if he kicked him up the arse. He doubted it, but at least he would have a reason to frown. “We have some very interesting results from the second blood pool at the Parker scene.”
The detectives stopped looking at Stevie and the doctor had their full attention again. “The blood and DNA taken from the second pool, which in actual fact is the first pool because it is older, matched with samples taken from another murder scene.” He paused and tapped the keyboard once more. Pictures of the battered body of the drug dealer appeared. “This was Jacky Benjamin, victim of a brutal and prolonged attack; as I said earlier, this was some years ago. There were two sets of secretions found at the scene, but only one body was recovered. We found urine and hair on the carpet which did not match the murder victim. We did not know if there had been a second victim until now. Lloyd’s DNA was found in the blood pool, too, semen, urine and saliva.”
“Okay, people,” Alec spoke. “We know Patrick Lloyd is responsible for a string of murders including Louise Parker, and we are sure he killed the Oguzhan family. We think he was one of the armed robbers that hit Connections nightclub, which means he has access to automatic weapons and an accomplice. Uniform had an address for him following the Benjamin investigation, but he has moved on. We need to find him and quickly. Will.”
“Guv?”
“I want you to communicate with the Armed Response Unit, and I want an address for Lloyd today. Find him.”
“Yes, guv,” Will nodded.
“Smithy,” Alec said.
“Yes, guv.”
“I want you and your team to find out who was at the Benjamin murder scene. Who was taken from there to the unit? I want to know who else was tortured in that building.”
“We’re on it, guv,” the ginger officer replied. They would have to reinvestigate the Benjamin murder book and trace his associates, especially those who were now missing. In the drug world, people went missing all the time. It would not be an easy job, but missing persons’ lists would reveal some possible candidates for them to work on.
“Guv,” Stevie felt like vomiting as he spoke. He raised his voice so that he could be heard over the others in the room. As Alec delegated the tasks, the separate teams began to chatter.
“Yes, Stevie,” Alec looked over to him. It was obvious that something was bothering him. Stevie looked guilty. Alec suspected he had had something to do with the leak, but his pallor was concerning. His face was ashen gray and he was sweating.
“The key holder that Kisha went to see, guv,” Stevie paused. His hands were shaking.
“What is it, Stevie?” Alec looked concerned. Will was about to speak to the DS in charge of the armed unit on call, but he waited to hear what Stevie was going to say. He looked grey and panicky.
“The key holder that Kisha went to see is called Patrick Floyd,” Stevie swallowed again. He held up the piece of paper with the details on. The paper was shaking visibly as he held it up. The detectives in the room swapped worried glances.
“Patrick Floyd?” Alec frowned and the wrinkles in his face deepened. He did not want to see the obvious connection. Everyone in the room could see the similarity, but surely, they could not have made such a simple mistake?
“I entered it into the computer as Patrick Floyd, but my handwriting is shit, guv. I wrote down Lloyd but entered Floyd.”
“So the computer didn’t flag up that Lloyd was already implicated in the case by the fingerprint?” Alec looked at Will to make sure his interpretation was correct. Will had been one of the first detectives to trial the software. It crosschecked names, dates, fingerprints and addresses. Will nodded his head silently. The name was similar but different. The addresses were different. The program relied on the data input being correct. It was at the mercy of human error.
“No, guv,” Stevie shook his head. He could feel every eye in the room on him. They looked at him accusingly. Kisha was a respected detective; Stevie wasn’t liked at all. He printed off the Kensington address and walked up to his superintendent like a schoolboy waiting for the cane. “I’ve fucked up, guv. Kisha has gone to this address to question Patrick Lloyd alone.”
Will whispered to the DS from the Armed Response Unit, and the MIT sprang into action. One of their detectives was in dire trouble and alone with their main suspect.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Graham Libby shouted. The office became still. “There is more on the DNA, I am afraid,” he looked over his glasses at Alec. “We have the Army’s medical records for Patrick Lloyd and his blood type is not the same as our samples.”
“What are you saying?”
“The blood types are different and cannot be from the same man we are looking for.”