False Witness (John Steel series Book 3) (16 page)

Steel smiled and she knew he was baiting her. He picked up the file on Darius Smith.

The file was just as thick as Tyrell’s and with just as many non-convictions. Steel looked through it, using his finger as a marker, not relying on his eyes to do the checking alone.

“Well our boy here, Darius Smith, was no saint either,” he mused. “The usual shopping list for a career criminal but again he was never convicted. Well not until eleven years ago, when he gets busted for killing some kid in a hit-and-run.”

McCall looked at Steel as if he had told a bad joke. “Really? A hit-and-run!” She almost fell off her chair because it sounded so absurd.

“Yes, eye witness, forensics—the lot.”

McCall picked up her coffee and drank to try and get rid of the bad taste in her mouth, as Steel went through the rap sheet. “Okay. I can get frustration in a case and planting evidence. But actually killing someone to do it? Na you’ve lost me on that one.” McCall started to get the feeling that number three was also likely to be a set-up.

She looked at the file that lay next to a stack of other files and picked it out.

“This one’s different,” she said, reading. “Schoolteacher kills his wife in an alley after a heated argument in a restaurant. Again they found enough evidence to convict. It reads much the same but this was a normal guy, not some scumbag from the streets. This doesn’t fit at all.”

Steel put down Darius’s file and leaned forwards with interest. “Okay, so we’ve got one set-up, nice but definitely wrong. Two set-ups is going a bit adventurous, but three? No, something is going on. We just have to find what ties these three men together and which one is the killer before he strikes again.”

*

Brian Armstrong sat in an armchair, staring at a photograph of his family. It was old, and white creases made it look untidy, but he didn’t mind as long as he could still make out the faces.

He had changed out of his orange jumpsuit and now sported a black sweatsuit with a hooded top. They had all been moved to an old abandoned tower block that Tyrell used to hide out at if things got a little hot on the street. The electric lighting in the rooms was powered by generators, and the windows were blacked out so that no light could escape.

Armstrong looked up at the door as Tyrell walked into the room, wearing a grey pinstripe with a sky-blue shirt.

“Very nice, who’s your date?” Brian joked.

Tyrell swaggered as if he was on the red carpet. “Hey, man, you had the chance for some nice threads but you picked that shit, God knows why.”

Brian stood up and followed Tyrell into the other room, where Darius was watching the news.

“Well, looks like we made front page news,” Darius commented. “You know it will be a while before we can make it outta here?”

Tyrell nodded and patted his colleague on the shoulder. “Patience, man, everything is gonna be fine, just real fine.” Tyrell walked over to a couch that was against the side wall and sat heavily. “Might as well relax, Teacher. My brother will bring some food later. In the meantime there are plenty of books in that room you were in.”

Brian Armstrong turned and walked back into the room to search for these so-called books. He had a feeling they were all going to be mystery novels or chick books, but he smiled as he found something of interest, picked it out of the pile and sat down to read.

In the other room Darius leant over towards Tyrell and beckoned him forwards. “Where did Teacher get to after the crash? I mean, sure, we all split but I followed you.”

Tyrell shrugged and looked over at the doorway that led to the next room. “Maybe the brother had business? Maybe he went to get a fuckin’ hot dog. Point is we are all safe now and hopefully we’ll soon be out of the country.”

Darius smiled at the thought of spending his days sitting on a beach somewhere. “So the police are trying to say them killings were done by us, what’s with that, man?”

Tyrell leant forwards and poured himself a large glass of the Bacardi rum that sat in the centre of the table. “Who can say, man? You know the cops. They’ll try and pin anything on us now. But we have to be smart and keep low.”

The two men knocked glasses and downed their contents in one swift motion.

“Oh, man, I missed that shit.” Darius laughed and winced as the alcohol hit home.

“Don’t worry, man. No one is looking for us here.” Tyrell’s words were confident, and Darius was hoping he was right.

Several hours had flown
past since Tooms and Tony had returned from the site of the accident. The four of them—the pair of detectives plus Sam McCall and John Steel—were sitting around the conference table and were comparing notes, just in case something slotted into place.

They knew, even though they were dealing with two different cases, that they must be related somehow.

McCall stood up to get another coffee after peering into the empty vessel. She took the cell phone from her pocket after it had buzzed violently to alert her of a new text message. Samantha smiled and ran her fingers through her hair as she read the words.

“Message from your boyfriend?” Steel asked, a large grin on his face.

“She doesn’t have a boyfriend. Do
you
, Mr Steel?” Tooms said, turning to McCall and hoping she’d got some new information.

McCall ignored the school kids at the table and sent a reply.

“If you must know that was the editor of the
Herald
,” she told them. “He said that the disc of the CCTV footage was ready and we can pick it up.”

Steel raised an eyebrow and cracked a smile from the corner of his mouth. “Okay then, so we’ll see you when you get back.”

Sam looked puzzled for a brief moment. “You’re not coming?” Her voice was trying not to betray the relief of not having to put up with him tagging along.

“Oh, sorry, no, too much paperwork to do, plus have you seen the time?” John Steel answered. “Hey, no, look you go and have fun, if you know what I mean.” He picked up a file and held it up to hide his face.

“Okay so I will go get the files and be right back.” McCall turned and almost skipped to the elevator as someone was just getting out.

“Hey, bro, how come you didn’t go?” Tooms asked the British detective.

Steel put down the file and turned towards him. “Because it’s probably a long walk from his house.”

Tooms looked puzzled. “I thought—”

John Steel shook his head as if he knew what Tooms was about to say. “If you had seen the two of them together you would understand. She will be going to his house, I will put money on it.” And so saying, he slapped down a twenty-dollar note.

“I will take that bet,” Tooms said, tossing a twenty-dollar bill on top of Steel’s.

*

McCall arrived at the house of Daniel Cruise—the
Herald
’s editor. She had phoned his office first but they had told her that he was at his home and insisted that she should meet him there. McCall had found it strange but then again she was curious to see how a man like that lived.

It was a large house with ‘mock Tudor’ design features, and its large front drive had electronic gates that had CCTV coverage, so that the wealthy homeowner could keep track of visitors.

McCall drove slowly up the driveway, taking in the view as she went. Sam smiled to herself, as she always imagined Steel having a place like this and not the Park View penthouse he actually had—that she still had not seen.

She parked and got out, her gaze not leaving the awe-inspiring house. Of course the bright full moon in the cloudless sky helped to add a little something to the scene.

“Glad you could make it,” Cruise said as he opened the door.

The detective just stood there with a half shocked and half ‘somewhere else’ look on her face as Cruise stood at the entrance.

“Your house is... wow!” Samantha felt angry with herself for her barely concealed admiration for the wonderful building, something she felt was unprofessional. When she saw glimpses of the house beyond the hallway, her jaw dropped even further.

“Can I get you something to drink, Samantha?” Daniel Cruise asked. “Sorry for the familiarity, I mean Detective McCall.”

McCall gave him a quick embarrassed smile as she followed him into the sitting room. “No thanks, I am only here to collect the disc you promised me.”

The sitting room he led her into was large, with antiques in glass cabinets which were themselves Elizabethan. However, her eyes were drawn to the small dining table between the veranda doors and the huge stone fireplace, and a table that was made up with two places set for dinner.

“I am sorry, I can see you’re expecting someone,” Sam apologised. “I’ll just take the disc and be on my way.”

Cruise smiled and passed her a glass of champagne. “Yes I was expecting someone. And now she is here.”

McCall returned his smile and took the glass. Her eyes sparkled with the light from the many candles that broke up the darkness. “You are very sure of yourself, Daniel. Sorry, I hope I can call you that, seeing as we’re on first names terms now.”

He stared into her deep blue eyes, which were full of emotion. McCall blinked and looked away towards the fireplace.

“So, no butler?” she asked.

Cruise shook his head at her stubbornness. “No, it’s Simon’s night off.”

Sam turned and gave him a strange look. “Your butler is called Simon? I thought he might be called Albert or Alfred,” she joked, taking a small sip from the champagne. She walked around the room, looking at photographs of past and present relatives. When she next spoke it was casually, almost as if she was making up polite conversation: “So, Daniel, you getting me here, the champagne, the ‘alone’ time. This wasn’t meant to be a date, was it?” She picked up a picture of what appeared to be Cruise when he was around ten years old, with his parents.

McCall put the picture down and closed her eyes as she felt him draw closer.

“Wasn’t meant to be a date? Mmm. Well that depends on you, Samantha. Do you want it to be a date?”

She turned and she kissed him hard on the mouth, all of her passion and longing vented in that small moment. Then she pulled away suddenly, realising what she had just done.

“Sorry, that was—” she began.

Daniel took her into his powerful arms and held her tight. They moved back onto the large couch and fell upon it, their bodies hungry for one another.

McCall gasped as he started to unbutton her top and kiss the bare flesh as it was revealed. Her fingers were grasping at his hair as he moved further down her body, undressing her as he went. Her body shuddered as he tasted her skin, his lips exploring her body as well as his hands.

Slowly he moved up and she wrapped herself around him as they became one. Their hot sweaty lust-driven bodies writhed and enjoyed each other until finally, in groans of utter bliss, they collapsed, holding each other tight. Their bodies glistened in the light of the flames of the fire in the huge fireplace.

“Where did that come from, Detective?” he joked. “There was I thinking that you only wanted the disc.”

McCall slapped him playfully, before climbing on top of his body. “I just thought, won’t dinner be spoilt?”

Cruise shook his head and smiled. “No, I didn’t order it yet.”

She looked confused for a second, then a playful smile came over her face as she felt his body stir once more. “Good, we can order breakfast instead.” She leaned forwards and kissed him as she moved down, feeling his body once again.

The evening was one of hours of animal passion, and finally they both lay there on the floor on top of a large snuggle-blanket he normally used for wintery nights.

McCall looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece—it was now a quarter to three in the morning.

“Damn it, I have to go,” Daniel said, looking up at her as he pulled the blanket over himself. “So was it... okay? To your liking?” he joked.

McCall shot him a quick scowl. “I have to be at work in three hours. You remember? I have to get on with the little task of catching your man’s killer.”

Cruise leaned back and rested on his large arms, that were crossed behind his head.

McCall finished dressing and blew him a kiss, then headed quickly for the door. She stopped halfway and rushed back. “By the way, you don’t have that disc, do you?” she asked, with an awkward smile.

As Steel closed his
eyes he fell into a deep unsettling sleep. He could almost hear the screams and the gunfire. Men had come to his home—for what reason he still did not know, even after all these years. They had come and they had killed as many as they could at the garden party. That warm summer’s day of his homecoming. So many family and friends gone in the blink of an eye.

After the slaughter, he hunted them down in the grounds and in the house, until he reached the attic where he thought he might find his beloved wife hiding.

He remembered her cold limp body resting in his arms, her eyes closed as though she was asleep. Steel’s body tensed up as the next memory bit hard.

As he stroked her hair her eyes opened—she was alive! The sound of the hand cannon rang throughout the attic space, and the pain at first didn’t reach him, only the sight of the bullet passing though her head.

It turned out that as Steel had been shot, the rounds had passed through them both. Six shots echoed in his ears but he felt nothing, only the pain of losing his wife.

The darkness passed over his eyes and he remembered those voices, the voices of the men who had killed his friends and family.

Steel sat up with a start, and the plastic glass he’d been holding bounced gently on the floor. John got up from the chair beside the window that he so often fell asleep on—getting sleep was something he still found hard. He smiled as he picked up the glass, thinking of an idea he had had a while back. He was making a habit of breaking crystal glasses, and it was becoming expensive.