Identity Crisis (21 page)

‘That’s settled, then.’

‘By the time we come back from his holiday, he’ll probably be looking forward to the change, seeing it as a new adventure.’

The traffic division of the local force had recently taken delivery of a new piece of equipment that they hoped would help crack down on vehicle theft, the evasion of excise duty and uninsured drivers. The kit was known by the acronym ANPR, which stood for automatic number plate recognition. The device was installed in an unmarked car and two of the area’s most experienced traffic officers were charged with trialling it.

The ANPR had already proved valuable on their first day’s patrol, bringing to book two vehicles that had no current tax disc, plus one driver whose insurance had lapsed. It was on the second day, though, that they really hit gold. As the officers were driving through the Carthill estate in Netherdale, the ANPR pinged a motorcycle as it turned into the drive of a house. Rather than alert the rider at this stage, the police driver cruised past whilst his colleague retrieved the information from the on-board computer.

The operator whistled as he read the details. ‘I think we’d better park up and contact CID. I don’t fancy tackling this bloke if the info on here is correct.’

He repeated the message to the driver. ‘Quite right, let the suits deal with it.’

Fleming ordered the house to be put under surveillance until an ARU unit could be assembled. When the armed officers were in place, she supervised the raid personally, flanked by Mironova,
Pearce and DC Andrews. ‘Viv, stick by me. You’re the only one who has actually seen this Freeman character. That’ll make identification easier.’

The raid took the occupants of the house by surprise. In addition to Freeman, two other men were detained, and the detectives discovered a suitcase in the bottom of a wardrobe containing over two-hundred-thousand pounds in cash. Significantly, a considerable amount of the money was inside cash bags emblazoned with the name and logo of Good Buys supermarket. On searching Freeman, they found a paying-in book along with seven-thousand-five-hundred pounds in cash.

‘You must have been doing a roaring trade in posters,’ Fleming told Freeman, who maintained a surly silence. ‘The trouble with money-laundering from the criminals’ point of view is that it has to be done gradually, a bit at a time, to avoid arousing suspicion. Banks have instructions to report suspiciously large transactions. That’s obviously what our
Easy Rider
friend here was in the process of doing.’

Six weeks later, Nash stood by the rail of the cross-Channel ferry, watching the Kent coastline appear through the slight mist. Alongside him, Daniel was prey to mixed emotions as they neared the English shore. News of the loss of their flat, the only home he’d shared with his beloved papa, had at first been traumatic. Now, the idea of the two of them finding a new place to live excited the small boy.

It would be their house. One which held no conflict of memory for either of them. Not that Daniel viewed it that way. He saw it merely as a great new adventure.

During their absence, the British press and media had been full of the identification and death of the notorious serial killer known as the Cremator. Despite that, Nash felt uncomfortable, dissatisfied.

His feeling had nothing to do with the injuries he’d suffered or the destruction of his home. Although the media had hailed the unmasking of the Cremator as a great triumph, Nash knew that the truth was that it had been down to pure luck rather than good detection. They had gone to interview Dawson about one crime,
only to find evidence that linked him to a far worse one.

On top of that, although media and public alike were unconcerned by the inquest findings, which recorded a verdict of murder, Nash felt frustrated that this too remained unsolved. His only solace, at what he knew to be a low point in his career, was that women would feel marginally safer knowing that with Dawson’s death, the Cremator no longer prowled the streets. The media would talk about closure for the families of the Cremator’s victims. Nash didn’t believe there was such a thing as closure. It was the sort of glib phrase used by those who were not closely involved with violent crimes and who didn’t witness at first hand the anguish they caused.

Nor had their efforts in the other cases proved much more successful. Although they had arrested three potential suspects in the van hijack and bank robbery, and recovered a substantial amount of money, the rest of the gang remained at large. They had no idea who the other men were: hardly Nash’s finest hour.

Before leaving England, Nash had bought a laptop, one of his main aims being to search for properties suitable for purchase. Shortly before he and Daniel were due to return, he had received a long e-mail from Clara containing an item of good news. Viv Pearce had asked Lianne Ford to marry him. ‘The girl must be an idiot,’ Clara wrote, ‘because she said yes. Can you believe it? Viv setting up home and playing happy families? He’s already talking about the wedding.’

Her message also contained an item of far less welcome news. It had been decided that the police presence in Bishopton was to end with immediate effect. The small team headed by Fleming and Nash would be responsible for crime prevention and detection over an area that had just doubled in size. It was somewhat ironic that Nash had left the Met in search of a quieter, less stressful existence. Well, that hadn’t worked.

Nash looked at his son. He thought briefly of the boy’s mother, wondering how much of a struggle it had been for her to raise him alone. Now, Daniel’s future lay in Nash’s hands. He wasn’t one to shirk a challenge, but this would be like no other he had faced before. And perhaps it would be an adventure for him too.

As they turned to walk towards the car deck, Daniel reached out and took his Papa’s hand. Nash looked down and smiled. Whatever the challenges, he thought the future was going to be that much brighter, for both of them.

‘Papa,’ Daniel said. ‘When we buy a new house, could we get one with a lawn big enough to play cricket on?’