Snow Kills (31 page)

Head bowed, Regan gave Yvonne Best a slanting look. His face appeared to go slack and his mouth opened but he didn’t speak.

‘It’s no good looking at her, she can’t help you. Mrs Best wasn’t there, but you were. I’ll ask you again, do you admit seeing Kayleigh Harwood, in her car, on the evening of White Wednesday? Did she come to your house? Where is she now?’ Dylan pushed on.

‘Inspector Dylan, multiple questions,’ Yvonne Best said wagging her finger at him. ‘You know my client can only answer one at a time. Do you have evidence? If so, can you disclose that evidence to me?’ she said.

Regan had the smug look of a toad breakfasting on fat marsh flies as he stared back at Dylan.

She was right. ‘Noted,’ Dylan said, directly dismissing Yvonne Best’s comment like he would return a ping pong ball in a game of table tennis. ‘Is it right Mr Regan that you have told officers on previous occasions that you wear your mother’s leg irons because they sexually excite you?’

Regan appeared tongue tied.

Mrs Best’s face was a picture. Vicky had difficulty stifling a smile.

‘Is it also right that you have magazines of a sexual nature alongside calliper devotee literature at the side of your bed?’

Regan looked up at the corner of the interview room ceiling and and declined to comment.

‘Is it right that you slept in the same bed as your mother, when she was alive?’

His head shot towards Dylan and his eyes met his.

‘What’s that got to do with you?’ he said.

‘Well there is only one bedroom in your house. Was your relationship with your mother a sexual one?’

‘No,’ he said nodding his head.

‘You’re nodding your head. Do you mean yes Norris?’

‘No, I mean no,’ he said and continued to nod his head in the affirmative.

‘Have you ever had a real girlfriend?’ asked Vicky.

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head.

‘So you must have thought all your Christmases had come at once when you found a pretty young girl stranded in the snow, Norris? I think that was just too much temptation and you couldn’t control yourself,’ said Dylan.

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he mumbled.

‘Explain to us how your fingerprints got onto the Kit Kat wrapper inside Kayleigh’s locked car?’

 ‘I want to talk to my solicitor in private.’

Dylan slammed his pen down on the paperwork in front of him on the table and leaned forward. His chair legs scraped on the interview room floor tiles. ‘Okay, that’s perfectly within your rights to do so. We will terminate the interview and allow you to speak to your solicitor,’ he said, shuffling the paperwork on the table into a neat pile before picking it up.

Dylan took big determined strides down the corridor. Vicky ran to keep up with him. This was going to be a long day of tension, and of waiting. Would Regan eventually tell them anything without them finding the evidence?

‘He’s saying one thing but his body language is telling us another.’ said Dylan.

‘He’s a stubborn bastard,’ Vicky said, through gritted teeth. Dylan pushed the CID door open and walked in to the busy office.

‘Not as stubborn as me though Vicky? I haven’t even started yet.’ Vicky grimaced at Lisa who was sitting at her desk outside Dylan’s office as he stomped past. ‘Let’s see if the others have any ammunition for us to use when we resume the interview.’

Jasmine was sitting at a desk in the office, smiling. ‘You’ll be pleased to hear we’ve got some interesting finds for you, sir.’

Dylan raised his eyebrows and he heard Vicky take a sharp intake of breath. He looked around the CID office. ‘Lisa, Andy, John, Jackie, here,’ he called.

Jasmine flicked over the pages of the reports she had been reading.

‘We’ve lifted a few white fibres from the settee in the lounge for comparison against Kayleigh’s jacket,’ she said as she looked up at Dylan. ‘And before you ask, yes, we’ve checked and there is nothing in the room, that we could find, which would shed such fibres. Also, interestingly enough we found a piece of thread, whitish in colour, snarled in the toilet chain pulley and there is a small partial footmark indent in the grime on the inside of the toilet door.’

Vicky smiled at Dylan, ‘What did I tell you?’

‘Are you suggesting to us that Kayleigh has been inside his house?’

Jasmine took a deep breath, nodded and bit her bottom lip. ‘And, that’s not all,’ she said screwing up her eyes. ‘We’ve unscrewed the hand rail in the hallway and Louisa has lifted some finger marks. She’s preparing them now and John has arranged for Traffic Sergeant Wilson to take them over to HQ for checking. He should be here any minute to collect them.’

‘Oh, joy,’ said Vicky. ‘I’m out of here.’

‘What?’ said Dylan.

‘Wilson. We finished, I told you! I’ll get you a brew and see you back in the interview room,’ said Vicky, exiting the room swiftly.

Dylan shook his head.

‘Again? What’s she like, how long this time for do you reckon?’ said Lisa with a groan.

‘She gets a good ’un and she freaks out,’ said Jasmine. ‘Will she ever learn?’

‘I guess we should never assume, but it does appear some women are only attracted to the ones who treat them badly, sadly,’ said Andy.

‘Yeah, you only have to look at all the domestic violence jobs we go to, don’t you?’ said John.

Dylan looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘And why’s that, do you think?’ he asked, seriously.

‘God knows,’ Jasmine said, wide eyed. ‘Do you?’

‘Ask me one on learning to fly.’

‘You’re taking flying lessons sir?’ said Jackie.

‘No, and I know about as much about women and their choice in men,’ he said with a frown on his face. ‘Are the marks reasonable?’ he said, his mind turning back to the job in hand.

 ‘Yes, they appear to be,’ said Jasmine.

Dylan sat down.

‘Why didn’t I call for the in-depth examination of the house nearest to her abandoned car sooner?’ he said pensively.

‘Does that mean we’ve lost evidence, do you think boss?’ said Jackie.

‘No, it doesn’t,’ said Jasmine with a shake of her head. ‘He’s just being hypercritical of himself, as per usual. We didn’t have the information before.’

‘Can anyone else follow Jasmine’s good news?’ Dylan said, not so reassured.

‘Sorry boss, there’s nothing come from our search. A few pictures of naked girls secreted but the close ups aren’t focused on the faces, if you know what I mean,’ said John.

‘Ned’s just checking out a partial telephone number that was written some time ago by the look of it on the wallpaper above his telephone in the hallway though,’ said Andy nodding in the officer’s direction. Ned was talking intently on the phone. ‘It appears it could be Barrowclough’s.’

‘Blood and sand,’ Lisa said.

Dylan smiled. ‘Nothing of interest from outside the property?’

‘No, the search is still ongoing but we’re only turning up piles of dog shit, household rubbish and more shit,’ he said with an air of distaste.

‘Messy job I know, but it is necessary, just to be sure,’ said Dylan. ‘We’ve had just the one interview so far with Regan and he’s not admitting to even going to her car yet, so round two looks like it’s going to be interesting when we tell him we can put her at his house. Keep me updated, especially in relation to the examination of the prints and that telephone number.’

Norris Regan sat in the chair in the interview room, his back straight and rigid, with eyes that were wide and empty and did not meet Dylan’s. Dylan sat down opposite him, cool and assertive.

Vicky closed the door before sitting to face Yvonne Best. The light in the room seemed toned in anticipation of the telling of things to come.

Dylan could feel a coldness that he knew in this interview was about to change to a flame.

For the first time Regan looked at Dylan as he finished reading the monotonous introductions before the interview could commence. His eyes were a dark blaze.

‘In the last interview, we told you that your fingerprints had been found on biscuit wrapper in Kayleigh’s secure car and you requested a private consultation with your solicitor, which you’ve now had time to do. Do you have an explanation for the revelation now?’ he said.

 With an abruptness that was like the breaking of brittle wood, Norris spoke. ‘Yes, I lied. I’m sorry,’ he said sullenly. ‘I did go out again that night. It was later when the lads seemed to have gone. I saw the flicker of a light in a car and so I did give the young lady a warm drink and a biscuit and she was fine when I left her.’

‘Why lie if you have done nothing wrong?’ said Vicky, speaking softly.

‘I expected to get the blame.’

‘Why?’ asked Dylan.

Regan didn’t answer.

‘What sort of biscuit did you take this young lady?’

‘Kit Kat.’

Dylan could feel his legs stiffen. ‘We didn’t find a cup at the scene. Did you return for it later that evening?’

Norris shook his head. ‘No, she drank it straight away and I took the cup back to the house with me.’

‘Did you sit in her car?’

‘No.’

‘What were you wearing?’

‘Coit, gloves, hat... a balaclava.’

‘Can you recall what she was wearing that night?’ asked Dylan. The two men were now eyeing each other like a couple of hostile dogs. A tingling sensation went through Vicky as she watched the performance.

‘A short skirt,’ Regan said, his eyes half closing. ‘A fluffy jacket.’

‘What time was it?’

‘I don’t remember exactly, it was dark,’ he said.

‘Do you remember if she said anything about what she intended to do, given her situation?’ said Dylan.

Norris avoided direct eye contact. ‘No.’

‘Do you think she was thinking about staying in the car all night?’ said Vicky.

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Yes, I think that’s what she said she was going to do.’

‘Weren’t you just a little bit concerned for the young girl’s welfare?’ said Dylan.

‘It was nothing to do with me,’ he said.

It seemed to Dylan that Regan was more at ease now answering the questions put to him. He turned to look at Vicky.

Vicky took over.

‘That doesn’t sound like the Norris Regan I know. You were considerate enough to take her a hot drink and biscuit. Surely, you’d not leave her there?’

‘Well, I did.’

‘So you went home, to your nice warm house and forgot all about the poor young girl who was sat practically outside your door, alone in her car with not a cat in hell’s chance of getting home that night in the snow?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you offer any other motorists a drink that night?’

‘There was no one else about.’

‘How did you know Kayleigh was there?’

‘I told you I heard the men banging on the car, then I saw a flickering light so I went to see if anybody was stuck and needed anything like a warm drink and a biscuit.’

‘Exactly. And now you’re telling us once you found a young vulnerable girl stuck in her car, you left her there alone, without finding out what her intentions were? She’d already had drunken men banging on her car. Was she not scared or you frightened for her?’

Regan shrugged.

‘I don’t think your mum would’ve been very pleased with you, if she knew you’d abandoned a young girl so easily, do you?’

He looked up to the ceiling but remained silent.

‘You’re lying to us again, aren’t you?’ Vicky said quietly.

‘I know what you’re doing. You’re being the nasty cop now, aren’t you?’

‘No, I’m asking you questions that’ll help me understand why, if you were caring enough to take beverages out to Kayleigh, you weren’t also bothered about her staying out all night in her car in what you describe yourself as blizzard conditions. You’d heard on the radio that more snow was forecast. It just doesn’t make any sense.’

‘Well, that’s what happened.’

‘That’s a lie Norris. Did she go to your house willingly, did you entice her there with promise of a nice warm bed or did you drag her there?’

‘What? Me? Have you felt how heavy my leg irons are?’ Norris Regan faltered.

‘But you said you weren’t wearing them that night because you couldn’t walk the snow in them. Make your mind up,’ said Dylan.

‘She was in your house!’ Vicky snapped. The room went quiet.

‘Oppressive,’ said Yvonne Best, leaning towards the officer.

‘No, I saw her in her car when I offered her a drink and a biscuit, that’s all,’ Norris said.

‘I think he’s answered that question quite a few times now. Can we move on?’ said Yvonne Best.

Vicky stared at Norris Regan long and hard.

‘You are aware that, as we speak, officers are searching your house, aren’t you Norris?’ Dylan said, as he took over the questioning from Vicky.

‘Yes. She’s not there, they’re wasting their time, I told you. She didn’t come to my house,’ he said, lifting his head slightly and jutting his chin out.

‘I was going to say if you hadn’t rudely interrupted me, that they have come across some secreted, naked pictures of women, are you aware of them?’

‘You’ve no right to look at my personal things. People go missing all the time but you lot shouldn’t be allowed to go through my private things.’

‘So you are aware of them? Was your mother aware of the extent of your calliper devotee obsession?’

Yvonne Best’s breath hitched in her throat. She looked at Vicky through her eyelashes.

‘From what I hear, I don’t think your relationship with your mother was what people would consider to be quite normal, do you?’ said Dylan, suggestively.

‘My mother has nothing to do with the missing girl, so why don’t you just leave her out of this?’ Regan spat.

‘Perhaps the way she brought you up means your mother has a lot to do with this. We believe Kayleigh Harwood was at your house, but what we want to know is was she there willingly and where is she now?’

‘How many times do I have to tell you, she wasn’t there?’ Regan shouted.

‘Who’re you trying to convince – us, or yourself?’ Dylan continued to push his prisoner.

‘I haven’t killed her. You’ve got the wrong man.’