When The Killing Starts: A DI Jack Dylan novel Page 15

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Dylan.

  ‘Let’s just say he isn’t very popular with locals. He’s sold off parcels of land to developers for affordable housing and more recently for a wind farm development. It has been brought to our attention that he’s also a bit of a lady’s man - upset quite a few husbands in his time.’

  ‘Recently?’ said Dylan.

  ‘Oh yes, let’s just say Oakley, we are told, was a very sociable sort of bloke, according to his acquaintances. Never missed a party. He also liked throwing his money around, a flutter on the horses and he has his fingers in all sorts of investments projects. The last race meeting attended was at York races. Does horse racing feature in your job?’

  Dylan and Jon both shook their heads.

  ‘Not that we’re aware of,’ said Jon.

  ‘We’re in the process of scrutinising the CCTV footage from the VIP lounge that he frequented on race days, in the hope that it confirms to us who he was with, and of course if anything untoward occurred that day. The word is he was a heavy gambler and apparently a very successful one.’

  ‘Not content with the office sweep on Grand National day then?’ said Dylan.

  ‘Nah Jack, this guy was in a very different league to you and me.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind a copy of the York races CCTV to let our team view it to see if they can identify anyone sir,’ said Jon.

  ‘That’s not a problem. We also have some stills we can share. We’re in the process of identifying the people he was with so we can speak to them.’

  ‘I presume we are not letting the media know about the connection we have made regarding the murders yet?’ Dylan asked.

  ‘No, definitely not. You and I know that the gun would never be seen again. While at the moment it’s highly likely, even if it is a pool weapon to be still in circulation.’

  ‘I totally agree,’ said Dylan.

  The facts regarding the two murders and a strategy for liaison between the two forces incident rooms was discussed at length. Agreement was made for the two databases to be linked and available at all times to the respective teams.

  ‘How times have changed in respect of databases between forces that actually ‘talk’ to each other,’ said Terry. ‘Remember the huge round index card systems we used pre-1985?’

  ‘Do I? We had to have the floor reinforced in the Yorkshire Ripper enquiry incident room due to the weight,’ said Dylan. ‘That enquiry brought in the computerised data base HOLMES, and wasn’t that a giant step forward?’

  ‘But that wasn’t totally compatible between forces was it? Not until they brought out HOLMES 2 which links all the UK police forces, Northern Ireland and the military police,’ added Jon.

  ‘I couldn’t care less what they use as long as it makes me less likely to overlook vital clues in complex cases,’ said Terry rubbing his hands together briskly. ‘Right, I’m off.’

  ‘Shall we have a bite to eat together before you leave?’ said Dylan.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘If you follow me to Prego in Brighouse you’re straight back onto the M62 from there,’ said Dylan.

  Shortly after eating, DI Hawk headed back to North Yorkshire and Dylan found himself driving back to the incident room. The incidents, for now, were being investigated independently, with close links to each other’s databases. While the same weapon was used in both incidents, it didn’t automatically follow that it was the same person using it. He’d speak with his counterpart to ensure each other’s policy log reflected the same reasons for independency.

  On arriving back, he liaised with the HOLMES team sergeant ensuring that the links between each enquiry database were kept up to date with information.

  There would be a massive amount of time dedicated on both enquiries to viewing CCTV images, but they were all aware the killer(s) may be thereon.

  Dylan was conscious he had to balance his own time between the Harrowfield incident rooms. Fortunately, Vicky was doing well handling the Knapton investigation, and he was due another update.

  ***

  The next day the devastating news came that Dylan and Jen’s baby had a series of serious health problems which meant the child, a boy, had but a one percent chance of living. Talking, sobbing and hugging each other until they were exhausted, Jen pleaded with Dylan to leave her alone and she was promptly sedated, falling into a deep sleep. Chantall had been looking after Maisy while they had been back to the hospital. Dylan told her he was needed at work, and asked if she was able to continue looking after her until he returned. Fortunately, it wasn’t a problem. He drove towards the station but, as he reached the top of Sibden Valley and looked over the town of Harrowfield he stopped the car and walked across the heathland. Facing into the wind his shirt billowed about him. He stood for a while, his mind numb and his heart heavy. When the doctor’s words came back to him, he turned his face up to the sky that was threatening rain, and with tears streaming down his face, he screamed a scream that sounded as if it didn’t belong to a human but an animal, an animal in great pain. Anger raged through him. ‘What had his unborn child done to deserve this when there were murderers walking free?’ Sobered by the fact that he had to go to tell the team, he needed their help to keep the plates spinning, he pulled himself together.

  Vicky was sitting at her desk with Detective Inspector Dawn Farren when Dylan walked in to the office. They had nearly given up hope that he’d be in and, with no contact at all, they were both worried. Dawn was in the process of advising Vicky how best to proceed in his absence. Relief showed on their faces when he walked in the door, and then they saw his rounded shoulders as he walked towards them, his face the colour of milk, his eyes dark and hooded.

  ‘Bloody hell boss, we thought you’d abandoned us,’ said Vicky.’

  Dawn put a hand over hers to stop her.

  Ten minutes later, the devastating news imparted, tears shed and strong coffee administered, Dylan turned to Dawn with great sadness in his eyes.

  ‘And there isn’t a chance the baby could be born alive?’ Dawn brought out a handkerchief and wiped her teary eyes.

  It was Vicky’s turn to put a hand out to Dawn.

  ‘No. Well, one percent they said,’ said Dylan with a glazed expression.

  ‘It’s going to hit Jen hard. She’s going to need all the support you can muster.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Be assured everything’s ticking over fine here boss, so don’t worry about anything this end.’ Vicky told him.

  As Vicky spoke his eyes left Dawn’s face and he turned to the younger woman. He gave her a tired half-smile. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back for the debrief. ‘Please can we keep this between us for now?’

  Dawn slumped forward with her head in her hands on Dylan’s departure.

  ‘Dawn?’ said Vicky questioningly.

  ‘I can’t do this now.’

  Vicky saw Dawn’s demeanour was grave. She lifted her head, her face was haunted.

  ‘You’ve no idea what it’s like to lose a child,’ she said as she pushed her chair backwards and stood up slowly. Turning, she left the office without a backward glance.

  ‘Or maybe I do...’ Vicky said quietly. ‘Never assume...’

  ***

  Two murder enquiries and each one just as important for Dylan to solve. On a daily basis, it was about making decisions, what lines of enquiry were a priority. This was also a factor determining which enquiry takes precedence for the SIO’s immediate attention. The Merton Manor murders were certainly more high profile.

  Dylan walked into a packed briefing room and all eyes were on him.

  ‘Due to personal circumstances I may not be around much over the next couple of days. But I am more than confident in each and every one of you that you are capable of keeping the murder enquiries moving at pace, without the need to bring another SIO in. What is of paramount importance is that you keep your supervisor up-to-date with any developments at all times. I will endeavour to get to at least o
ne briefing a day. These briefings are, at this time, more than ever of the utmost importance to keep everyone working on the enquiries up-to-speed. Please ensure you are in attendance.’

  The sea of faces before Dylan were serious. All was silent. ‘We all need to keep our eye on the ball, look out for each other and keep digging. We will get there.’ Dylan’s voice changed to a more upbeat, encouraging tone. ‘Tell me, what results have we got to date?’

  Starting to feature, and becoming more of an interest to the Freddie Knapton murder investigation, was a group of hoodie wearing youths, perhaps six or more in number who had been reported to congregate in Groggs Park.

  ‘Identifying them has got to be a priority,’ said Dylan.

  ‘Dog walkers have apparently become intimidated by them,’ said Andy.

  ‘And so have the younger kids walking through the park on their way to Harrowfield Academy,’ said PC Shelagh MacPhee who had settled into the CID office well under the wing of Vicky.

  ‘Do we not have a school liaison officer? There’s a good chance that some of them may be pupils, or ex pupils. We just need the name of one or two and then we can do the rest.’

  Shelagh put pen to paper.

  ‘I understand we have actioned a search of the drains in the area?’ said Dylan.

  Vicky nodded her head.

  ‘Have we got any results?’

  ‘No sir,’ said Vicky.

  ‘Why not? That should have been done within the first forty-eight hours. If a murder weapon has been dumped in a drain, we want the best possible chance to secure evidence before the weather intervenes. Accelerate the enquiry as an absolute priority and any further delays I want to be informed about immediately.’

  Dylan sat down to drink coffee at his desk after the meeting. Vicky was seated opposite him. They discussed the Knapton murder enquiry. The mood was sombre.

  ‘It’s got to be someone with local knowledge’ said Vicky.

  ‘Maybe,’ Dylan said absentmindedly as he checked his e-mails. He stopped what he was doing and looked directly at her. ‘Graffiti. A kid’s thing these days would you say?’

  ‘Depends how you categorise “kids”. I’d say it’s a younger generation thing. But the “wot no” Chad art work isn’t. I didn’t know what it was until you enlightened me, which suggests to me that if it is kids then someone has got some background knowledge of the cartoon from somewhere.’

  ‘Maybe the tag is to throw us off the scent? I wonder if the pupils at the school have been doing a second world war project.’

  ‘Mmm. We need to trace those that have been hanging around Groggs Park.’

  ‘And we need to speak to them fast to eliminate them, or find evidence to connect them to the incident. Once you’ve identified the members of the group I want you to do a mass arrest and if need be carry out searches of their homes the same day. That would send out a clear message to the public that we mean business.’

  ‘The numbers may make it impractical, so we may have to cherry pick to make the raids manageable.’

  ‘Tracing and speaking to them is top priority and so is getting those local drains checked. I want you to keep me posted on any news. If you need me to add some weight to the actions being completed, let me know. Remember, I am on the end of the phone.’

  ‘That it?’ Vicky said collecting her paperwork together on her lap.

  ‘Yes, I think so.’ Dylan’s eyes went back to his computer screen and he commenced typing. Vicky stood up and walked towards the door.

  ‘Vicky,’ Dylan said before she opened the door.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You’re doing a great job. Don’t think I don’t appreciate it.’

  ‘Thanks boss,’ she said. ‘And I hope it all goes well. Well, I hope you and Jen and...’

  ‘I know what you mean, and thank you. It’s a difficult time.’

  ‘Who else knows?’

  ‘Just you, Dawn, Raj, Jon, the Chief and Avril Summerfield-Preston.

  ‘You told Beaky?’ she said. Her voice rose and she pulled a face.

  ‘She’s Jen’s line manager, we had no choice. I’ve told everyone who knows that I don’t want it to go any further. Hardly anyone would suspect Jen is pregnant, and we want it to remain that way. It’s going to be hard for Jen losing the baby without all and sundry questioning her.’

  ‘Yeah, well good luck with keeping it under wraps if Beaky knows,’ she said.

  ‘Even she can’t be that cruel?’ said Dylan.

  Vicky raised an eyebrow. ‘Can’t she?’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jen loved autumn, and this year Maisy had been able to, for the first time, run with her mother holding her hand through the fallen leaves. The crisp, clean air that rushed up the valley on days like this, pinched her face and usually made her feel alive, but today she found it all too much. Her whole body ached, her heart was like a brick in her stomach and for the first time she felt the need to sit on a bench and watch as her daughter jumped, threw, and kicked the fallen foliage. Max, unusually quiet, came to sit by Jen’s side. She wrapped her arms around his thick, furry neck. He turned to her. Her face crumbled and she buried her head in his soft fur. ‘It hurts Max, it hurts so much,’ she cried. Tears fell onto his hairy face and his long pink tongue whipped up to his nose to lick them away. She gave little sob. ‘I feel so hopeless.’

  Lost in her own world, she didn’t hear the footsteps that came nearer from behind. Maisy saw Chantall and her friends Hermione, Annabelle, Cameron and Frankie before her mother did and she ran squealing past the children and into her childminder’s open arms.

  ‘Hello Jen?’ called Chantall cheerily. As she got near she saw Jen’s red eyes and mottled colouring of her face. ‘You okay?’

  Jen wiped her eyes. ‘I will be.’

  Chantall smiled down kindly at the excited children circling her and carefully steered them towards the swings. ‘I was worried when you weren’t home,’ she said as she returned and sat beside Jen. She put her arm about her shoulders and briefly squeezed her. ‘Then I thought, where would you be on a lovely autumnal day like today? So we came to find you.’

  ‘Am I that predictable?’ said Jen giving her friend a faint smile.

  ‘Oh Jen, Love, I wish I could do something.’ Chantall reached out for her friend’s hand that held tightly onto a well-used tissue.

  ‘There’s nothing anyone can do.’

  ‘And there’s no chance the baby will live?’

  Jen shook her head slowly. ‘If he manages to hang on to full term it would be near-on a miracle.’ She sat up straight and took a deep breath in. Her teary eyes wandered to Maisy playing happily with her friends, blissfully unaware of the turmoil and the unknown fate of her unborn sibling.

  Chantall’s slight, sharp intake of breath and tighter squeeze of her hand made Jen turn towards her. ‘If I can do... well, you know where I am.’

  ‘Thank you. That’s very kind. Trouble is there is nothing anyone can do. I don’t know what to say even to my husband. And, I’m sure as hell that he doesn’t know what to say to me.’

  ***

  Dylan was in no mood for excuses from the team.

  ‘Have we traced and interviewed the decorators who worked at Merton Manor Jon?’

  ‘We’re interviewing them today sir.’

  ‘Whose interviewing?’

  ‘Andy and I sir.’

  ‘I want to catch the bastards who did it before North Yorkshire do,’ he growled. ‘Terry Hawk won’t let me forget it if they do the job for us.’

  ‘As long as the killers end up behind bars sir, I’ll be happy,’ Jon said.

  ‘What do they call ‘em?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The decorators?’

  ‘Would you believe A. Painter & Sons?’

  ‘No? Really?’ Dylan said smirking.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jon said, allowing himself a little titter. ‘Alan Painter and his sons George and Patrick; at first I thought it was a wind up, but no, the gu
ys are genuine.’

  ‘Find out if they work outside the county, and if so where? Also of major importance, where were they, all three of them, on the day of the fire?’

  ***

  Detective Inspector Dawn Farren popped her head round Dylan’s office door. She looked sheepish ‘You free?’ she said.

  Dylan unsmiling, nodded his head. She closed the door behind her.

  ‘I’m sorry I was so pathetic yesterday,’ she said sitting down to face him across his desk. ‘How’s Jen?’

  ‘I didn’t get in till after she’d gone to bed.’ Dylan was thoughtful. ‘She was asleep, or if she wasn’t she pretended to be so she didn’t have to talk to me.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘And this morning?’

  Dylan looked awkward. ‘I was in work early.’

  Dawn frowned ‘You can’t go on avoiding each other. You two need to talk.’

  Looking down at his hands, Dylan nodded. ‘I know. In all honesty I don’t know what to say. Why can’t I find the words to talk to my own wife?’

  ‘You’ve got to face this head on Jack. Jen needs your strength right now.’

  ‘Don’t you think I don’t know that?’ Dylan argued. When his voice began to waver he stopped and composed himself. ‘Truth is I feel bloody useless.’ Dylan felt the pain in his chest. It felt like two strong hands squeezing the air out of his lungs. His face paled and his mouth half opened as if he was having trouble breathing.

  ‘You okay?’ said Dawn.

  He nodded, got out of his chair, went to stand by the window, opened it wide and drew a few deep breaths of crisp, cold air before sitting down, his colour returning.

  They sat in silence for a moment, Dawn filled with sadness, and Dylan hurting like he never had before.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Dawn.

  ‘So am I,’ he said. Dylan sighed deeply as he put his hand to his sweating brow.

  Dawn got up to leave. She leaned forward and put her hand over Dylan’s. ‘Just don’t leave it too long to speak to Jen and tell her how you feel.’