Snow Kills (29 page)

‘Ah, I remember it well,’ said John. ‘Max going to be okay?’

‘Yes, it appears he will be, thank God,’ said Dylan. ‘I don’t think Jen could have coped with losing him right now. You okay for a bit? I’ve just got a personal phone call to make.’

‘Yeah, sure. I’ll leave you to it.’ John said, closing the door behind him.

Dylan climbed the stairs to the canteen and grabbed a sandwich out of the vending machine. Dawn beckoned him from a table near the window and as he ambled over she watched how disoriented her friend looked.

‘I’ve had a word with Jen’s dad. It appears that not only did Jen know Turner, but she was engaged to him once upon a time,’ said Dylan. On speaking the words out loud, the colour drained from his face. He opened his mouth to say more but shut it again.

 ‘And she never said?’ Dawn said shaking her head.

 ‘I guessed she’d moved away for a reason when she left the Isle of Wight but running away from a broken heart – no I never guessed that,’ he said in a raspy, barely audible voice. ‘Then again, I never asked her either. At our age we’ve obviously both got history.’

 ‘Or in your case, another enquiry,’ Dawn scolded.

Dylan looked wounded. ‘Do you think I’m difficult?’ he asked his old friend and colleague.

‘Cantankerous,’ she said. ‘Bloody stubborn, but not difficult, and neither of us would have you any other way.’

‘That’s what Jen said. So, if I surprised her with the tickets, she won’t be able to say she’s not going then, will she?’

‘Are you stark raving bonkers?’

‘If she hasn’t told me about Shaun Turner, then there must be a good reason.’

‘Don’t you see, you could be sending her right back into his arms, you bloody idiot? She’s lonely, not surprisingly, struggling to cope with a baby on her own while you work long hours. She misses her mum, who’s only been dead for just over a year, and her dad is three hundred miles away and has been ill. You need to hold her close, not send the poor girl to the other side of the country where she might be comforted by an old flame, especially one who seems to want their relationship to rekindle.’

‘You don’t know that. You don’t get it do you? I told you. I trust her. There must be a perfectly good explanation why she hasn’t told me. My mum used to say if you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it was meant to be. If not, it was never yours to keep in the first place.’

‘No matter what my mother said, much as I loved her, God rest her soul, I wouldn’t be sending my Ralph away into a lion’s den. If Shaun Turner hasn’t told you about his association with Jen then he’s sniffing around, you mark my words.’

‘If she’s having any doubts about me – us, then maybe it’s for the best anyway... I know what I’m doing. She’ll be back if it’s me she wants.’

‘And if not?’

‘If not, I can’t bear to think about it,’ he said, his eyes downcast. ‘I’ll be putting her on that train, no one else, and she’ll be in no doubt how much I love her before she leaves and all I can do then is wait.’

‘Well, I guess you know what you’re doing but it’s beyond me, I thought you had more bloody sense,’ Dawn said.

It was two o’clock and everyone had assembled for the briefing.

‘Kim Harwood was hoping for some news... but she seems to be coping. It was a shock to see her. She’s lost a hell of a lot of weight,’ said PC Jackie May.

‘It’s nice to have you back on the team, Jackie,’ said Dylan. Her cheeks flushed.

‘The Kit Kat didn’t come from the Harwood house. Kim had been trying to slim at the time, ironically, and biscuits were off limits,’ said Vicky, biting into a custard cream from the packet on the desk. ‘We weren’t able to locate Matt Prentice, so we left a note through his letter box to contact us.’

‘Good work,’ said Dylan.

‘Some of you already know, but for those that don’t we have a positive identification on the marks lifted from the Kit Kat wrapper.’

 All eyes followed him as he walked to the dry wipe board. Dylan made them wait a little longer. ‘Stewart Viney tells me that the person who took the prints should be complimented, the quality is excellent. Well done Vicky and Ned. Okay, okay, for those who don’t know, they are Norris Regan’s.’

There were mumblings of, ‘Yes,’ all around the room.

‘I knew it,’ Ned said.

‘One step at a time, Ned. We now know he’s lied to us. He did see her and what the marks suggest is that he was at her car and gave her a biscuit, nothing else. Off the record, Donny Longbottom has told his solicitor that he saw someone talking to Kayleigh at her car that night – looks like Norris Regan is now that man. We need to get a statement to that effect. It’s a positive connection, and as far as we know he was the last person to see her alive. But we still have a lot of unanswered questions. Did she go to his house? So this time we go and arrest him on suspicion of abduction and murder and we’ll bring him in for questioning. While he’s here, I want his house taking apart, firstly to make sure that Kayleigh isn’t there and secondly, if she isn’t, to find evidence if she was there. My intention is for that to happen at 7 am tomorrow, but we need to put together a package in the meantime for searching the inside and outside of his premises. Also, we need to put together an interview strategy. While it’s great news, I’m conscious we have a lot of work to do. Once he’s in the net, we want him to stay.’

‘Perhaps boss, we could nominate a team for each room or a team to take the upstairs and a team to put onto the downstairs?’ suggested Andy.

‘You’ll need the Operational Support Team with scythes for the outside, boss. It’s a real mess and he has a dog there too, which isn’t a problem, it’s not vicious, but we’ll need to give some thought as to what’s going to happen to it when he’s locked up,’ said Ned.

‘Oh, what a softie,’ said Vicky. Ned stuck one finger in the air at her.

‘Vicky?’ said Dylan.

‘Someone needs to access his sense of humour today,’ Vicky whispered in Jackie’s ear. ‘Glendene Kennels is on the rota and will take it unless Regan can nominate somewhere or someone to look after it,’ she said loudly.

‘We don’t have a lot of time and a hell of a lot to do, so let’s get on. Does anyone have anything to add?’ said Dylan.

‘Do you want me to make one in, just for tomorrow boss then go back to the skulls enquiry?’

‘Please, John. We need all hands to the pump, we’re only gonna get the one shot at this and, according to a telephone call I got this morning from a certain Rosie Lee, we will be uncovering a burial ground there,’ Dylan said, which prompted a lot of eye rolling in the room. ‘Anything on the bell?’

‘No, not yet. The expert, he’s a nice enough old chap, but his eyesight isn’t good – hence the hospital appointment and him missing our appointment that was in his diary. I’ve left him a blown-up picture of the item and he’s going to show a friend. In his opinion it’s one of the first models that Raleigh made but of course there are no markings.’

‘Phone bills, Ned?’

‘Got the clearance from supervision in Intel and the phone companies have told me that the first batch will be here shortly.’

‘And you believed them?’

Ned sniggered.

‘Interview: Vicky and I will start, seeing as Norris appears to like her,’ Vicky winked at Dylan. ‘Once he’s been certified as fit for interview that is, and we’ve got his solicitor organised. We’ll see how that first interview goes – and Andy and Ned, you can be our back-up once the searching is complete inside his house. Just on that, I want SOCO there and if we find anything which requires an in depth examination we’ll get Forensic out at that point, from the lab. I want everyone suited and booted. The last thing we want is any suggestion of contamination.’

‘Exhibits boss?’ said Vicky.

‘Is there anyone free?’ Dylan said.

‘Leave it to me, boss,’ said John.

‘Okay, everyone. There’s a lot to arrange before tomorrow, last-minute checks at 6.30 am and I want us away from here by 7 am I want our movements kept tight. I don’t want the press knowing anything yet. When the time is right, they’ll be updated. We will also update Mrs Harwood and Matt Prentice first thing on any developments but only when we have something positive to tell them. Now for the paperwork, I’m going back to my office to write the Operational Order with a section for each search team in there for you to see quite clearly. Each one of the team’s criteria will be stipulated. Remember read it and take heed, we don’t want any excuse for Beaky coming back at us on the Health and Safety front.’

‘I thought you’d called a truce with the Divisional Administrator,’ said Vicky as she followed him into his office.

‘Mmm... Jen might have, but I still have my misgivings about what Avril Summerfield-Preston does actually do for this Division, apart from suck up to Chief Superintendent Walter Hugo-Watkins. I still don’t trust her.’

 Vicky giggled. ‘It has been rumoured that they were caught in an uncompromising position in his en-suite last week.’

‘Nothing surprises me. Pity they don’t put their passion into their work,’ he said.

It had been a while since Dylan had felt the buzz from the team. He could sense their eagerness peaking and knew he would need to harness it tomorrow morning.

‘Jen,’ Dylan said. ‘Most likely I won’t be home ’til you’re in bed tonight and most probably be off before you get up in the morning. I’ll sleep in the spare room,’ he said. He could feel the tension over the phone.

 ‘Thanks for letting me know. I won’t wait up but I’ll leave you a dinner plated up so you can warm it in the microwave when you get in,’ she said. ‘You okay?’

‘Yes, fine You?’

‘We’re okay, could just do with a little sun I guess and I’ll be glad to get Max home.’

‘Well you never know your luck,’ he said, his voice sounding a little brighter for her sake.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh nothing, just the little surprise I’ve got planned.’

‘Come on, tell me,’ she said, with an excitement in her voice he hadn’t heard in a while.

‘No, you’ll have to wait,’ he teased.

‘Maisy’s been trying to pull herself up on the furniture today. I wish mum could’ve seen her... I wish dad could see her. I could do with a playpen.’

‘I was going to pick one up the other day before...’

‘Before?’

‘Something important must have come up,’ he said.

‘Yeah, I guess so...’

‘No really. I know, it was the day we got the hit on the fingerprint.’

‘You mean the day that Max had his seizure?’

‘Yes..,’ he said softly. ‘She’ll be walking before we know it, won’t she?’ he added sadly, realising how much he was missing out on his daughter’s little milestones. ‘Just think, if you still lived on the Isle of Wight you’d be taking her to the beach soon for her to play in the sand. Do you miss it?’

‘Yeah, Mum used to take us to the beach no matter what the weather. I’ve dug in the sand with snow all around me. Hey ho, well I’m not there, am I? And unless you solve this case, I guess none of us will be going soon,’ she said.

‘I’d better get back to work,’ he said. ‘See you later.’

‘Love you,’ she said in a whisper as she heard the phone click.

‘And I love you too, more than you’ll ever know,’ he said to himself.

Jen got Dylan’s suit, shirt and tie out and hung them on the spare bedroom wardrobe door before she went to bed. His underpants, socks and handkerchief lay on the corner of the pine dressing table next to his aftershave. She knew he’d want to look smart for his big day tomorrow.

It was 5.30 a.m when she heard the persistent ring of the alarm and rolled out of bed. Sleep had evaded her. She heard Dylan go into the bathroom. Jen padded softly, bleary eyed in her dressing gown, downstairs towards the kitchen. It felt strange for Max not to be laid at the bottom of the stairs where he would normally greet her no matter what time of day or night she descended them, usually to make Dylan a drink when he was called out. Coffee and toast were soon on the kitchen table and, whispering goodbye to Jack, she once again climbed the stairs to bed.

‘I slept in the spare room so as not to wake you, nothing more,’ Dylan said, putting his hand on her arm and kissing his wife on the cheek.

‘I know, I was awake. Thankfully Maisy hasn’t woken, so I’m going back to bed.’

‘You do right,’ he said. Reaching out for her hand, he squeezed it tight.

Jen pulled the duvet above her shoulders and closed her eyes, snuggling into Jack’s pillow. His masculine scent was soothing.

The roads were quiet as Dylan drove to the nick. A red sun was coming up when he arrived at the police yard. His eyes were red, his hands were cold, but it was ‘game on’ and the adrenaline was already pumping.

At first Jen couldn’t sleep and her eyes were still open as the morning dawned. She saw the walls and furniture start to clearly define in the dim half-light through the bedroom curtains as she lay thinking. She had noticed a cobweb hanging where the window frame met the wall yesterday, but couldn’t see it now. She listened, but there wasn’t a sound, and she must have drifted off to sleep. Her reccurring dream was of Shaun, his behaviour and their parting which seemed like another lifetime, a different dimension. But although pictures were of Shaun, her feelings were those she had for Jack. It was he she was searching for, him she couldn’t reach. Her anxiety rose as to her horror she couldn’t find his phone number in her mobile phone. She was on the street where he lived but she couldn’t find his front door. She woke with sweat on her brow and her heart racing. She sat up quickly, but the cries she heard this morning were those of her daughter, Maisy, who had roused her from the nightmare.

Briskly, Dylan rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm them. It was a dry but cold morning as the convoy of police vehicles travelled to Ivy Cottage. The horizon was clear on this windless day. Everything appeared vivid and tranquil. The trees were a slowly sliding curtain in his path as he drove along Manchester Road.

The officers were quickly and quietly out of the cars. The silence was overpowering, but then, under the officers’ feet, the dry twigs, leaves and small stones on the pathway were reassuringly audible. Before Dylan knew it, they were in the vestibule and he was rapping the heavy, black, iron door knocker. A blind hung awry at a window, creating a strange and sinister expression. The knocking seemed to vibrate across the open grassland like a moorland breeze, but Dylan could also hear bird song.