Darkness Looking Back, The (17 page)

SHE STEPPED OUT of his line of sight for a second; looked like she was going to her chest of drawers. He changed his position on the shed roof, to get a better view. Stupid bitch, didn't she realise net curtains hid nothing if you had the lights on? This wasn't exactly a private backyard. Especially not since he'd arrived. She was asking for it, all right. They all were.

Many's the time he'd sat here when she had one of her boyfriends over, and he joined in all by himself. He already had a hard-on.

It was going to be riskier this time — there were four other people in the house.

Then again, he knew how to keep them quiet. By the time he'd
finished, she'd be begging for it.

STIRLING LOOKED AT the room through bleary eyes. Twenty-four hours since the last victim was found, and the atmosphere at CIB seemed even more bunker-like than usual. Stirling's colleagues were like an army under siege, with morale at an all-time low. Standing in the computer room shared by all the underlings without their own office, he could see people making phone calls, looking at screens, tapping pens against piles of notes, all trying to look busy. He knew it was all show. They were a bunch of detectives without a single clue between them. Except him.

Stirling shook his head, his mind full of an all-purpose, unfocused anger, the way it got when you were too tired to nail down any one thought. He remembered what the pathologist had said about Shannon's body. It had been as badly disfigured as Charlotte Hiscocks', the first victim. He'd gone for her face. There was an indentation on her finger too, from a ring that had been removed. The fact that the mark was still there showed the ring had been taken post-mortem. He was collecting tokens — the phone was another.

That bloody Arthur.
Wong
. Who the hell did he think he was? He remembered the Malaysian's voice when he'd rung to complain. As if
he
were the one hard done by, as if he were totally innocent.

You've ruined my business! I thought you were one of the good guys. Why did you do this to me?

It had been all Stirling could do not to shout back at him.
Why did you kill all those women? You're just trying to throw us off the scent, aren't you, matey?

Despite that, he'd felt a familiar flash of guilt. What if Arthur wasn't the one? He was becoming like Gardner, trying to wrap up the case with a too-small ribbon, squeezing the evidence out of shape just to get it tied up.

In that case, whoever it was — the bastard who kept running to the press, arrogant sod — had just ruined a harmless baker. One of his own colleagues had a mouth he couldn't keep shut. And he was probably his own best friend, Tony Rees.

The sudden buzz and shrill of his phone in his pocket produced a shot of adrenaline that actually burned in his chest.

Wincing and rubbing his breastbone, Stirling pulled the phone out. Unknown number.

'Hello, Andy Stirling.'

'Hello, this is Warren Lucas. Helen McCowan's friend.'

He was the last person on Stirling's mind at the moment. 'Hello, Warren, what can I do for you?'

There was a moment of dead air. 'I was watching TV the other night,
Cross
, and they said something about the murdered women all being cheaters. Well, that psychic did.'

He stopped, seeming to be waiting for a response. Stirling closed his eyes. Oh hell.

'That's right, Warren.'

'I've been thinking about it. Is that why Helen was killed? Did she have — a boyfriend?'

'I'm afraid she did. I'm sorry.' Stirling was seeing the punch-up on the lawn again, all the blood and tears.

'I see.' Warren's voice was steady, but quiet. 'I suppose it's not really all that surprising.'

'It's an awful way to find out.'

'Looks like there's two of us waiting for justice, then.'

'Sorry?'

'Me and the other man. We're both hurt by her death, aren't we?'

Stirling tried to keep the surprise out of his voice. 'So you're not angry with her then?'

'How can I be? She's dead now.' Warren sounded deeply sad, but there was a braveness in his tone that touched Stirling's heart. 'She never meant to hurt me. How are you getting on with the search?'

'I think we're getting closer. Got it narrowed down to a few.' Stirling desperately hoped he wasn't lying. It would have been cruel, somehow.

'That psychic seems a clever fellow. He was dead right about what happened, wasn't he? I hope you listen to him.'

Warren seemed full of surprises.

'Yes, he's a very clever man.'

Warren finally hung up after thanking him profusely for helping to find Helen's killer. Stirling slid the phone back into his pocket, feeling worse than he could remember in a long time. He blinked, scrunching his eyes tight shut, and opened them again. He was still seeing a fog in front of everything, with a few floating spots for good measure. Shit, he wanted to go home. He leaned his head back against the wall, letting his eyelids fall shut.

'Wakey wakey, Sleeping Beauty.'

When Stirling opened his eyes, he saw the unwelcome features of Ray Gardner smirking at him. An insult about nightmares was on the tip of his tongue, but the cave-ins under Gardner's eyes were truly the stuff of bad dreams. Like Stirling, he could only have had two hours' sleep at the most. His voice sounded almost as deep as Rees's.

'Time for the briefing now. In Graeme's office.'

Stirling pushed himself off the wall and followed, breathing in deeply in an attempt to wake himself up. It only made him yawn. Hearing him, it set Gardner off too. They ran into Nielsen in the corridor, talking to her husband, Brad, well dressed as usual.

'What on earth are you two doing here? They haven't called you back, surely?'

'Good help is hard to find these days,' said Gardner.

Stirling nodded at Brad. 'How are you, boss?'

DC Brad Nielsen had once been a sergeant above Stirling, on general duties. He'd only taken his detective's test a couple of years ago, when his eldest son Cameron was about to turn five and he realised his wife's bedtime stories were going to sound better than his.

'Christ, you guys look terrible.' Brad was looking from Stirling to Gardner.

'Yesterday we had a murder and an attempted murder,' said Stirling. 'And the guy responsible for both is laughing at us. If I look like shit, it's a damn sight better than I feel.'

Brad stopped smiling. 'Leaves my Thai meth importers for dead, doesn't it? Good luck, fellas.'

'Cheers, Brad.'

He nodded and bent to give Nielsen a kiss. 'Take care. See you, sweetheart.'

'Maybe.' Nielsen sighed, then turned and walked towards Kirkpatrick's office with the others. 'Any idea what this is all about? I've been holed up watching security tapes all morning.'

'From the carpark on Symonds Street?' Stirling asked, his heart skipping a beat. The dogs had tracked a scent from the toilets across the road to the parking building. 'What did you find?'

'Nothing.' Nielsen shrugged glumly. 'The footage was so grainy, and the lights didn't show faces very well. Besides which, a number of people were wearing caps or looking in the wrong direction. I slow-moed it so many times, and I couldn't even tell if it was one of
you
.' She shook her head. 'I'll get the experts to do what they can with it.'

'I thought there was supposed to be a security guard training college in that bloody building!' said Gardner. 'That's typical. The only reason you go into security is because you're too damn stupid to make the police. I might as well not have even bothered with the dogs.' He shot Stirling a sardonic look. 'Mind you, Andy reckons he's got it sussed.'

'Well, we've already got him on the defensive, haven't we?' said Stirling. 'Arthur Wong's threatening to go to the Police Conduct Authority. Somehow it's all my fault — like
I
leaked the name of his café.'

'Well, it is if you've been talking to that psychic friend of yours. New Zealand's latest Z-list celebrity.' Gardner smiled sourly.

'He didn't even know, Ray. I never told him.'

'According to him, he'd be able to find out anyway. I heard about that prediction of his the other night. I'm surprised they didn't offer him a slot as a weather presenter.' Gardner grinned, adopting a cod English accent. 'My spirit guide says there'll be rain on the West Coast and sunny spells in Nelson. And when I say spells, I mean it literally!'

Stirling looked away in disgust, but caught the eye of Vicky Nielsen. She looked spooked.

'James Paxton predicted this?'

The door to Kirkpatrick's office opened. 'Come in.'

Rees was already in there. Surprised to see him, Stirling stood closest to the door, automatically maintaining his distance. Whatever was coming, he preferred being next to the exit.

'Take a seat.'

Crammed into the tiny space were three chairs. Rees was squeezed beside Kirkpatrick at his desk and, to Stirling's surprise, Woodward sat in the corner on the senior's other side. Stirling, Nielsen and Gardner each had a chair facing them. It felt like a game show. Or a scrum. Stirling tried hard not to shift in his seat. Kirkpatrick gave a quick drumroll on the desk with his hands.

'I've called you back here, Andy, to say that I'll be sending you back to Parsifale café to interview Mr Wong,' Kirkpatrick said.

After this morning's embarrassment, it was the last thing Stirling had expected.

'With Ciaran Paynter, just to keep all our bases covered, and so he's got one more person to worry about. The inspector and I both agree — you've drawn it to my attention that you believe he's a suspect, and it's only fair that you should have the chance to speak to him again. In the meantime, please assure him in person that it wasn't our intention — or your fault — that the name of his café was given to the media. I'll be following that up with a letter. And who knows, either his anger or his fear that we're onto him might get him to drop something he shouldn't.'

'Yes, sir.'

Kirkpatrick nodded. 'Tony, I want you to check out the boyfriends. It's a long shot, but it's got to be done. Take young Coleman with you if you want. You okay with that?'

'Sure, Senior.'

'You don't believe our friend Mr Paxton was behind the leaks?' asked Gardner, reverting to their previous topic.

'It had to be looked at,' said Kirkpatrick. 'But DC Stirling has assured me he never told Mr Paxton a thing, and I have no reason to doubt his word, do you? Or Mr Paxton's. I found him very honest.'

Gardner didn't say anything. Stirling felt a food of warmth towards the Senior.

'And while you're here, Ray, I have a proposition for you and Vicky. A special mission, should you choose to accept it.' Kirkpatrick was smiling now, rhythmically clicking his pen. 'While Andy's interviewing Mr Wong the usual way, which may or may not come to anything, I want to throw something more interesting into the mix . . . A sting, in fact.'

'You mean like a drug bust?' Gardner looked at Nielsen, who looked just as bewildered as he did.

'Almost,' said Woodward, breaking his silence. 'Sorry, Graeme, I want to have some of the fun, for a change. This is one of mine.'

'All yours, sir.' Kirkpatrick's smile grew even wider, as they all stared at him.

Woodward laced his hands on the desk. 'I suggested this to Graeme after it became obvious our killer hunts in one spot. Now it's become public knowledge, that might stuff it all up — but I hope not. I thought, the man has a thing for two-timing women, and he seems to find his victims in the same café while they're on their little assignations, so why not play along?'

Out of months of habit, Stirling's eyes went to Rees's, and saw the same look on his face. This time when Stirling looked away, it wasn't out of embarrassment but self-preservation. He'd wet himself if he laughed now.

Nielsen's laugh sounded tinny, more like a cough. 'You're not serious, sir.'

The look of disbelief and sheer horror on Gardner's face was a pleasure to watch. 'You want me to play boyfriend with her? Why the hell didn't you pick someone like
him
?' Gardner pointed to Stirling. 'Or another toyboy like Coleman? Middle-aged women are more into that sort of thing — it's more believable.'

'I'm not middle-aged, I'm only thirty-six!'

'You can't think anyone would take us seriously!'

'Well, that's precisely what you're going to have to work on, Ray. Because that's the plan. We didn't want to hand this to someone as young as Coleman — he tends to clown around a bit anyway, from what I've seen. I think you more ft the type of older businessman going for a younger woman at the office, and you have a bit more experience.'

Rees was smiling. 'But has Ray had the sort of experience you're after?'

'Shut up, Tony. Aren't you finished here?'

'What about my own husband?' Nielsen was clearly desperate. 'He's a detective — he's used to playing a role. And it would definitely look more realistic.'

'It can't be Brad — if he's following you home, he'll see straight away that he's your husband. You're both adults, I'm sure you can handle it. We're not asking you to spend the night together, just put on a bit of a show.'

Kirkpatrick looked uncomfortable. 'But we
will
have to ask you to spend a few evenings together at Ray's. Just in case he's following you. We'll have people close by watching.'

Gardner shook his head in disgust, huffing out a breath. 'Jesus.'

Stirling looked steadily at the floor; Rees was doing the same.

Woodward looked at Gardner. 'You've been divorced for years now, what are you worried about? You're not going to upset anyone, and you get to spend time with a lovely young woman.'

'That's what's upsetting
me
,' Nielsen muttered.

Kirkpatrick frowned. 'Well, if you really want, I could get someone else to do it. Stephanie Harris, maybe . . .'

'God no,' said Gardner fervently. 'She's like a walking armpit.'

'If you can't handle crap flung at you, Ray, stop handing out shit pies.' Woodward crossed his arms and sat back. 'Are you in or do we have to find someone who can handle it?'

'I'll do it,' said Nielsen. 'When I'm not working I usually spend my evenings reading anyway, between sorting out the kids. This way I'll just be combining all three.'