Cross and Burn (26 page)

He gave a wry smile and passed a coffee to each of the women. Paula leaned on the open driver’s door and peeled away a section of the lid and enjoyed the aroma of the spicy dark roast the Italian owner preferred. She had a feeling there wasn’t going to be much else to enjoy at this encounter.

‘Nice of you to offer my sergeant a coffee, Dr Myers.’

‘We go back a long way,’ Paula said.

‘So what do you have for us?’

‘That evidence bag you left us this morning – there was a phone in there, right?’

‘Yes. Presumably Bev’s,’ Paula said.

‘It is hers. We checked.’ He tugged at his soul patch. ‘There’s a partial thumbprint on the back of the phone.’ He took a folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to Fielding. It was an enlarged photocopy of a fingermark, smudged down one side and slightly distorted where the thumb that made it had shifted slightly. ‘Because I know you’re in a hurry on this one, I gave it to my best fingerprint tech as a matter of urgency. She ran it through the AFIS database. Nothing came back from criminal records. But in Bradfield, we keep our own database of prints for elimination purposes. Serving police officers, CSIs, pathologists. And anybody else who regularly attends crime scenes or has contact with evidence.’

Fielding looked visibly brighter. ‘I hope this is going where I think it is.’

Paula’s response was markedly different. She snatched her emergency cigarette packet from the door pocket of the car and lit up.

Dave grimaced as the smoke blew across his face. He half-turned away from Paula towards Fielding. ‘Her preliminary opinion is that the thumbprint on Bev’s phone could have come from Tony Hill.’

‘Could have?’ Fielding was clearly disappointed. ‘You can’t do better than that?’

‘It was a rush job. Obviously she’ll be looking at it again.’

Paula’s chest was tight with fear. These days, there was always room for doubt with fingerprints. No CPS lawyer would give the thumbs-up to a case that rested solely on fingermarks. But as a consolidation, it was still rock-solid where juries were concerned. And would a jury be so wrong? It was unimaginable to her, but what else but guilt could explain DNA
and
fingerprint evidence?

Tony had spent the half-hour of Paula and Fielding’s absence racking his brains for an explanation as to how his blood had ended up on Nadia Wilkowa’s cuff and he’d drawn a blank. It didn’t help that he was feeling anxious. Stress was an enemy of recollection. Tranquillity, that was how you got the memories to flow. Not being wound up to a pitch.

When they finally returned, he practically jumped to his feet. ‘This is crazy,’ he said. ‘Paula, we’ve known each other for years. You know I didn’t kill anyone.’

‘Sit down, Dr Hill,’ Fielding said. ‘This isn’t about how well any of us knows you. It’s about following the evidence where it leads us. And right now, it’s only leading us in one direction.’ She plonked her folder down on the table and drew a piece of paper out of it. ‘Let’s see what you make of this, shall we? You know what that is?’

‘It’s a fingerprint. Kind of smudged, but it’s a fingerprint.’

‘Actually, it’s a thumbprint. The right thumb, to be exact. And so is this.’ She proffered a printout of an official print card. ‘Identical, I think you’d have to agree?’

This was starting to feel very uncomfortable. ‘I have no expertise,’ Tony said, his lips tight.

‘You don’t need expertise, you only need eyes. The print on the official record card was freely given by you just over three years ago. The other one was lifted from the back of Bev McAndrew’s phone earlier today.’

There was a long silence. Tony could hear his blood pounding in his ears. The wheels were going round but they were gaining no traction. ‘When did she go missing?’ he asked, trying to buy time.

‘She left work on Monday at the usual time. Shortly after half past five,’ Paula said.

He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I think I was at a meeting in Bradfield Cross on Monday afternoon… I need to check my diary.’

‘I’m not impressed with the absent-minded professor act,’ Fielding said. ‘Monday. This week. Where were you?’

Now it was time to find some steel. ‘I already said. I need to check my diary.’ He pushed the chair back. ‘Are we about done here?’

‘Not quite.’ When she smiled, Fielding could look almost gentle. Nobody would have guessed, looking at her granite face then. ‘Dr Hill, when did you last see ex-DCI Carol Jordan?’

Now he’d really had enough. He wasn’t going to talk to this idiot any longer. He stood up. ‘This interview is terminated. I’m done with answering your short-sighted questions. I’ve spent years trying to instil some understanding into police officers. And this is where it ends up.’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘Find somebody else to monster, DCI Fielding. I’m not playing any more.’ He made for the door, but Fielding was ahead of him.

‘Anthony Valentine Hill, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

He took a step back, turning to Paula, his face a mask of shock. ‘Is she serious?’

‘She’s serious, Tony.’

He walked away from Fielding and sat down heavily in one of the chairs. ‘Then, no comment.’ Tony folded his arms across his chest and stared straight ahead. Inside, he was in turmoil. But on the outside, he would give nothing away.

Not until he’d figured out how to dig himself out of this hole.

P
aula watched the duty sergeant walk Tony down to his cell. She’d processed him herself, making sure he was clear what he was entitled to. And that the duty sergeant knew she was looking out for her prisoner. ‘You should call a lawyer,’ she said.

‘You can make the call from here,’ the sergeant added, pointing to a payphone.

‘I’ll sleep on it,’ Tony said. His face was drawn and tired and he seemed to have shrunk since he’d arrived at the station.

‘I’m sorry,’ Paula said.

He nodded. ‘I know. It’s OK. We’re good.’

She desperately wanted to say more, but couldn’t risk it. This was Fielding’s nick, not hers, and she didn’t know who to trust yet. Weary and unsure of what to do for the best, she headed upstairs, pausing for a cigarette break before facing Fielding and the murder squad. Cody was leaning against the wall by the door, blowing a stream of smoke upwards. ‘Nice work,’ he said.

‘You think?’

‘It’s always good to get a collar early on. Gets the brass off your back and the media out of your face.’

‘Even if it’s the wrong collar?’

‘Oh, I forgot. He’s a mate of yours, isn’t he? He’s always been an oddball, from what the lads are saying.’

‘It’s a long way from oddball to sexual homicide. And I don’t think he’s capable of it.’

‘Word is he lost the plot after the Jacko Vance business. That’s why Jordan walked away from him. She knew he’d turned.’

All at once, Paula’s moment of doubt became history. She stepped right into Cody’s personal space and jabbed a finger into his chest. ‘Where are you getting this crap from, Cody? Or are you making it up as you go along to wind me up? Jesus Christ,’ she exploded. ‘You sound like one of those tabloid reptiles who go in for trial by headline. Carol Jordan lost her brother. That’s why she walked back from all of us. It’s called grief, you twat.’ She stepped back and turned away from him. ‘It’s got fuck all to do with this.’

‘Take it easy, Sarge,’ Cody said, his voice sarcastic. ‘People’ll think you’ve cracked an’ all.’

‘If I hear you or anyone else talking this kind of shit, I’ll go straight to Fielding with it. That’s a promise.’

Cody gave a soft, dark chuckle. ‘What makes you think it’s not coming from Fielding, Sarge?’ Paula whirled round and crushed out her cigarette against the wall millimetres from his ear. He yelped as hot ash hit the sensitive skin. ‘You mad bitch,’ he yelled.

‘You mad bitch,
Sergeant
. I’d advise you not to forget either part of that sentence, Cody.’ She turned on her heel and stomped back inside, glad anger had replaced the fear and depression that had been building up all evening.

She found Fielding in her office, packing files into her laptop bag. ‘You should have told me you’d spoken to him about Bev McAndrew going missing.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’ Paula waited for the bollocking. But to her surprise, Fielding walked away from it.

‘I understand how it happened,’ she said, sounding almost as weary as Paula felt. ‘You’re used to him being inside the tent, it was a natural thing to do.’

‘What do you want me to do now?’

‘Go home. Eat something. Sleep. We’ll go back on the attack in the morning. Hopefully, the fingerprint techs will give us a definite yes rather than “could be”. And we’ll conduct a full search of his home and his office. Do you know if he has a storage unit or a lock-up or something as well as his boat?’

‘No idea.’

‘We’ll check it tomorrow. I’ve got the grunts looking at the CCTV footage to see if we can pick him up anywhere relevant.’

Paula rolled her shoulders to loosen up the tightness that had been building there. ‘Do you really think he did it?’

‘I’m following the evidence, McIntyre. And that’s where it’s leading me. You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgement.’

‘Am I? I don’t think it’s my emotions. It’s my knowledge and experience. I’ve worked with Tony Hill for years. He
saves
lives, he doesn’t take them.’

‘And I think you could be totally wrong. But it’s good that you’re digging your heels in. It gives me something to push against. It means we’ll test our case properly and not get ambushed in court by the defence. Right now, though, we’re just at the start. Away home now and come back in the morning refreshed and ready to go.’

‘What about the media? Have we told them we’ve made an arrest?’

Fielding shook her head. ‘I’ve told the squad to say nothing. Which probably means it’ll be all over the internet by bedtime. But I’m saying nothing officially.’ She fastened her case and shooed Paula out of the office. ‘See you in the morning. With a bit of luck, we’ll see his happy little face on the Trafford Centre cameras.’

And she was gone, leaving Paula all wound up with nowhere to go.

Home had never been like this. It was like walking into the middle of an intense TV drama. Torin was on his laptop at the dining table, a strange woman Paula presumed to be Rachel McAndrew was in an armchair with an iPad and a glass of wine and Elinor was ironing a white shirt. Ironing a shirt? Paula hadn’t realised Elinor knew where the ironing board lived. But death – particularly sudden, violent death – always left people unsure of how to fill their time. The look of relief on Elinor’s face told Paula all she needed to know for now.

‘Hey, Torin,’ Paula said. ‘Hello, love,’ to Elinor. And, ‘You must be Rachel. I’m Paula. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about Bev. We were very fond of her.’

Rachel put down her wine and stood up, extending a slim hand adorned with a couple of diamond rings. ‘It’s such a shock,’ she said, her voice tremulous. ‘And Elinor says we can’t even bury her.’

Paula flashed a quick look at Torin, whose head lowered even closer to his screen, hair hiding his eyes. ‘I’ve arranged for a Family Liaison Officer to come over tomorrow morning to take you through what’s happening and explain how to go about the official side of things. He’ll be here at half past nine.’

‘Rachel’s planning to stay at Bev’s tonight, if that’s OK with the police,’ Elinor said. ‘But Torin would rather stay here.’

Paula smiled. ‘No problem, mate. I don’t think I’d want to go back there just yet if I was you. There’s no rush.’ Torin’s head bobbed in acknowledgement. ‘I do have some news about the investigation which I wanted to share with you.’ The atmosphere in the room quickened. Torin looked up, his eyes beseeching her. Rachel froze, her hand halfway to her wine. And Elinor gave her a tiny nod of encouragement.

‘This evening we made an arrest in connection with Bev’s death. And that of Nadia Wilkowa, another woman whose body was found earlier this week.’ Paula held her hands up, palms out, urging caution. ‘I don’t want you to overreact to this. It’s very early in the investigation and I’ll be honest with you. I have serious reservations about the guilt of the person in custody. This happens sometimes in serious crime investigations. We arrest a suspect early on, with minimal amounts of evidence. That doesn’t mean the investigation is over. In this case, the investigation’s barely begun. But this arrest will be all over the media tomorrow and you should be prepared for that. It would be best if you don’t speak to the media, but obviously that’s up to you.’

‘Who is it?’ Torin demanded. ‘Who did this to my mum?’

‘The man we’ve arrested is called Dr Tony Hill. He’s a psychologist who works at Bradfield Moor Secure Hospital and for years now he’s also been working with us at BMP, drawing up profiles of serious offenders.’

‘This man
worked
with you? And you had no idea he was a killer?’ Rachel’s outrage was obvious. It would only get worse, Paula suspected. Grief had to find an outlet somewhere.

‘We don’t know that he’s a killer. Personally, I don’t believe it. It goes against everything I know about the man.’ But she had to be honest. She owed that to Bev’s family. ‘There is some evidence that points towards him though. We have to test that evidence and see whether we can actually build a case against him.’ She looked to Elinor for support, but her partner was speechless, her face aghast.

‘I don’t understand,’ Torin said. ‘Did this guy know my mum from work? Why did he pick her?’

‘We don’t know, Torin. Right now, we have a lot more questions than we have answers. All I can say is that we’re doing our job. None of this helps you to deal with your mum’s death, I know. But I’m doing my best for her.’

‘Great speech, Detective,’ Rachel said. ‘I think it’s time I went over to Bev’s.’ To Elinor, ‘Have you got a taxi number?’

‘I could drive you over,’ Elinor said. ‘It’s no trouble.’

‘Thanks, but you’ve done more than enough for us,’ Rachel said. It was a line that could have been taken either way and Elinor clearly got that.

Elinor called their usual taxi firm and Paula escaped to the kitchen. She was staring gloomily into the fridge when Elinor joined her. ‘Taxi’s on its way, thank goodness. She’s hard work, Rachel. I made sandwiches for us all earlier. I’m afraid I used all the ham and cheese and salad.’

Talk of food was a displacement activity that displaced nothing for either of them. Paula closed the fridge. ‘I’m not actually hungry. This has been one of the worst days of my working life. Not quite up there with the Temple Fields ordeal, but pretty damn close.’

‘I can’t believe it. Has Fielding lost her mind? Tony? If I had to compile a list of everyone I know in order of how likely they were to commit murder, I’d put him very near the bottom.’

‘Same here. But she doesn’t know him like we do. To Fielding, he’s just another prospect in a sea of possibilities. But he is the scalp that will make her name. Can you imagine the headlines?’ She shuddered. ‘It’s so ironic. One of the reasons she’s convinced he’s the one is that the victims look a bit like Carol Jordan. According to her armchair psychology, he’s killing surrogates because he can’t have her. But the truth is, the only person Tony would kill
for
is Carol.’ Paula sighed and opened the fridge again. This time, she took out a pot of yoghurt. She stared at it for a long moment then put it back and closed the door again.

Elinor put her arms around her from behind and kissed the soft skin behind her ear. ‘What are you going to do about it?’

‘I don’t know. I think Fielding’s testing me. Am I good enough to be her bagman? If I put a foot wrong, she’ll have my stripes, maybe even my job. So I have to be very careful not to be seen to be helping Tony. But I can’t just stand by and let this happen to him. I understand exactly how the momentum builds behind an arrest.’

‘The juggernaut of justice.’

‘Exactly. People focus on anything that supports the arrest and dismiss any faint indications of other directions.’ She leaned her forehead on the cool fridge door. ‘I’ve never missed the MIT more.’

‘Carol would know what to do.’

‘Carol would never have arrested Tony in the first place. She’d have viewed the evidence against him as some kind of pointer towards the real killer. Or something.’

‘You need her now. She’d be ferocious as a lioness protecting her cub.’

Paula gave a sad little laugh. ‘Once upon a time, maybe. Now I’m not so sure. Whatever the glue was that held those two together seems to have come unstuck. And besides, she’s not a cop any more.’

‘All the better, surely? Paula, I know you. You need to do something or you’re going to be awake all night, smoking too much and drinking too much coffee and twitching. And taking years off your life, which makes me very unhappy because I need you to be around for a very long time. Go and find Carol. Let her do the heavy lifting.’

Paula shook with silent laughter. ‘You’re crazy. You say “go and find her” like it was straightforward. She’s gone off the radar. Even Stacey doesn’t know where she is.’

‘Stacey only knows machines. You know people.’

Elinor’s words triggered something inside Paula’s head. Not quite fully formed, but the teasing start of something. It was interrupted by the doorbell. ‘That’ll be the taxi,’ Elinor said. ‘I’ll see Rachel off the premises. Don’t move, I’ll be right back.’

Preoccupied, Paula opened the fridge for a third time and took out a plastic container of leftover chilli. She flipped the edge of the lid open and stuck it in the microwave. By the time Elinor returned, she was forking it into her mouth, frowning into the middle distance.

‘She’s gone,’ Elinor said. She sighed. ‘It hasn’t been an easy afternoon. She wants to take Torin to Bristol with her.’

‘That’s good, surely?’

‘Except that Torin doesn’t want to go. His arguments are very reasonable – his friends are here, his school, his band —’

‘He’s in a band?’

‘Apparently he sings. Who knew? Also, he wants to be somewhere that holds memories of his mum. Not ripped out of the ground and transplanted to a strange city to live with people he barely knows.’

‘Like you say, reasonable.’ Paula was focusing on Elinor now, realising there was more going on than was being said. ‘And?’

‘It’s a “but” really, not an “and”. But he has no family here. And he’s only fourteen.’ She took a deep breath. ‘He wants to stay with us, Paula. At least until his dad deploys back to the UK.’

Paula’s eyes widened. ‘Here? Living with us?’

Elinor pushed a stray strand of hair from her face. ‘I don’t know how I can say no.’

Paula’s smile was wry and knowing. ‘Even if you wanted to. Fuck, Elinor, this wasn’t in my life plan. Somebody else’s teenage kid.’

‘Right now, he’s a good kid, Paula. What happens to him next will determine if he carries on being a good kid. You know that. You see the results of fucked-up young men every working day. So do I. A&E is full of them. I think we should say yes.’

‘What does Auntie Rachel say?’

‘She’s not happy. But then, I have a sense that Auntie Rachel isn’t happy about much in her life. Ultimately, it’s his father who has to make the decision. He might think the worst thing that could happen to his son is to be left to the tender mercies of a pair of big old dykes. But until that happens, I think we need to hang on to Torin. It’s what he wants, and I think you in particular might be what he needs.’