Kill Me Again (33 page)

Maggie raised her eyebrows. She knew that Suzy took some pleasure from the children moaning about their soon-to-be stepmother.

‘And then I had a word with Ruthie.’

‘You
what
?
’

‘
Yesterday when you talked about how it felt to truly love somebody you made me realise something, Mags. It’s not Ruthie’s fault that Ian didn’t love me enough. Maybe I didn’t love him enough. Maybe we just didn’t love each other. Anyway, it’s the children that count. They need to be happy there, and they need to respect their stepmother.’

‘Bloody hell, Suzy!’

‘I still think she’s a poser, but hey – each to their own.’

Maggie walked across the room and gave her sister a hug. She knew that had taken a lot of doing but maybe her sister was finally on the road to a better place.

‘What about you, though?’ Suzy asked. ‘Does it all make sense now?’

Maggie debated how much to tell Suzy and in the end decided it had to be as little as possible. If she and Duncan were to have a future, those closest to them should never be in the same impossible position that she was now.

‘I can’t tell you, Suze. Not yet. It’s honestly better if you don’t know anything. He hasn’t left me for another woman, though. At least that’s one thing less to worry about.’ Although, Maggie thought, that would have been a whole lot easier to deal with than this.

‘Don’t you think it would help you to talk to somebody? If that’s not me, is there somebody at work you could talk to?’

‘I don’t know, but thanks for understanding. It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just that when this is all over I don’t want anything I tell you to colour your opinion of Duncan. I need to go to work, though. I need to keep this job.’

‘Go and get yourself ready, then. I’ll make you a bacon butty. The perfect start to the day. And then I’ll see to the kids – get them to school and pick them up again. You take it easy.’

Nodding her thanks to her sister and picking up her coffee cup, Maggie made for the stairs. The thought of having to spend her day working on defences for other criminals when she should be thinking of her own husband made her feet drag, and it was only when she was halfway up the stairs that the key word in that thought struck her.

Criminal.

51

After less than five hours’ sleep, Tom felt surprisingly alert that morning. Tiny, slender threads were starting to link some of the suspects and victims together. He had the feeling they were getting close, and adrenaline was driving him – Becky too, by the look of her when he found her in the incident room, poring over the wall chart covered with pictures of victims and suspects. A young detective had seen Tom come in and had raced over to the coffee machine to fill cups for both senior officers – aiming to please. Tom was glad of it. Caffeine was going to have to see him through the day.

The previous night he had thought of pretty much nothing other than tracking down Michael Alexander. He had
known
there was something not right with the lad, even though his alibis proved he couldn’t have killed either of the girls. But now there was a link – a highly tenuous one it had to be said – but it was enough for Tom to get him back in for questioning, even if it was twelve years too late.

‘What do we know about this counsellor, Becky?’ he asked without preamble. ‘We need to talk to him – or her – if possible.’

‘We’re checking it out. The practice has been closed for years. Their patient lists were handed over to a new practice that took over some of their cases. I think at least one of the counsellors has retired. Another doesn’t practise anymore. But we’re doing what we can.’

‘Okay, but it’s even more important that we find out where the hell Michael Alexander is now.’

‘I’ve been back through the relevant files of the original case, and you were right about his alibi, Tom.’ Becky indicated a pile of papers on her desk. ‘I printed this lot off, but there was nothing to implicate any of these three guys twelve years ago. Michael Alexander had a rather pathetic motive for one killing but couldn’t have done it, so I don’t think we can point the finger at anybody for missing this. No apparent motive for either Ben or Adam, and no evidence. It must have been a bastard of a case to work with nothing to go on.’

Tom still didn’t know whether to be glad he had been taken off the investigation, or to wish he’d kept plugging away at the things that had niggled him. Or whether, in fact, the case hadn’t had his full attention.

‘So where’s Michael Alexander now, then.’

Becky looked at him and raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re not going to like this, but he’s disappeared. He’s off the grid.’

‘Bollocks!’ Tom banged his coffee cup down on the nearest desk. ‘Nothing at all?’

Becky shook her head.

Tom knew without a doubt that he should have followed his instincts all those years ago. But he had run out of time.

12 years ago – late June

Exhausted as he was, nothing could wipe the smile off Tom’s face that June morning as he walked into the incident room. He had a daughter, a beautiful little girl. No-one knew of his concerns or doubts, and nobody was going to. Ever
.

Lucy – that’s what they had decided to call her. He hadn’t wanted to leave her only hours after she had been born, but both she and Kate were sleeping, and if he was to be any use looking after them over the next few weeks, he was going to have to hand over all his investigations to somebody else
.

‘Douglas!’ The shout came from Victor Elliott’s office, and Tom grunted with irritation. He hoped and prayed that he wasn’t going to get bogged down for hours in a useless debate that would delay his escape
.

He popped his head round the door. ‘Sir?’

‘Come in, sit down and congratulations. A baby girl, I’m told. They’re the best, you know.’

Tom was more than a little surprised to see a slightly faraway look in Victor’s eyes, and remembered hearing that he had a grown-up daughter but understood she was living in Canada. Victor never spoke about her – or his wife, come to that
.

‘Thank you, sir. I’m sorry to be ducking out right at this point. I was hoping we would have had the case sewn up before I had to leave, but Lucy was early, and I need to be at home for a week or so to help Kate.’

‘Yes, yes. We’ll get somebody to cover. Let’s have your final take on the suspects, then.’

‘We don’t actually have any suspects, sir, I’m sorry to say. Anybody with half a motive has been cleared.’

‘Still chasing your tail over Alexander, are you?’

‘No, sir. He’s not going to be able to get thirty people to lie and say he was in Keswick when he wasn’t, and some of his cycle race was filmed by the university. I know he didn’t kill Tamsin Grainger.’

‘I sense a “but” in there, Douglas. What are you thinking?’

Tom nodded. There was a ‘but’ in there, but it didn’t make any sense. ‘He’s a bit smug about his alibi. I don’t like it.’

‘Could he have paid somebody to kill her?’

Tom shook his head. One thing he had discovered about Michael Alexander was that he was permanently skint
.

‘And the other suspects?’

Tom gave a rundown of the so-called suspects – none of whom in his mind was at all suspicious – and waited impatiently while Victor did some thinking. He was about to ask if he could get on with clearing his paperwork when his boss spoke
.

‘The third girl. She said she would recognise the guy even though he had a stocking mask on. Did we run all these suspects past her?’

Tom sighed. This had been his biggest hope – that she would at least give him somebody to focus on. But it had been a disaster. She had been shown photos of all the suspects along with others from their rogue’s gallery. She hadn’t identified anybody. She had stated categorically that she had never seen any of these people before, so either her powers of observation weren’t as good as she had said, or none of their suspects was involved. Tom was inclined to believe it was the latter. They had no idea who the killer was
.

‘Okay. I’ll let you get on then. But one thing, Douglas. If you were running this investigation from here, what would you focus on?’

Tom paused. He knew what he would do, but equally he knew that Victor Elliott wouldn’t agree
.

‘I would search the warehouses and old mills – even those with locks on the doors – for evidence. Those girls were killed somewhere and transported, probably by more than one person.’

‘Yes, well you’ve had that particular bee in your bonnet for a couple of weeks now, but it’s a hunch, Douglas, and we checked it out.’ Victor reached for his phone as if to signify the meeting was at an end
.

‘Okay, you can go, Douglas. See you when you’re sick of changing nappies.’

Tom didn’t move
.

‘What? Was there something else?’

Tom nodded. ‘I wouldn’t stop delving into Michael Alexander. But I think we’re looking in the wrong place. We can’t break his alibi and we’ve looked at all known associates. But we need to go further – delve into every single aspect of his life: where he goes for coffee, who he sits near in lectures, who he went to school with. He knows something.’

52

Every muscle in Maggie’s body seemed to be twitching, whether from exhaustion or fear, she didn’t know. She couldn’t focus on work, and she was nowhere near coming up with any suggestions for what they should do next. How were they going to rid themselves of this threat? Duncan was adamant that there was no point going to the police. They would never find Samil. And if Samil realised Duncan had given evidence against him, he would seek his ultimate revenge. Maggie knew exactly what that meant. Her own murder.

Maybe the van registration number would help, but that would only link whoever it belonged to with the current murders, not those twelve years ago. So if Duncan came clean about everything, he would still be the only person they could pin the earlier crimes on.

People kept popping into Maggie’s office to ask if she was all right, and she knew why. Her face was pale, her eyes bloodshot and puffy, and she couldn’t sit still. She needed to think of something else – to give her mind a rest – and it was with a sense of relief that she glanced up from her desk just before twelve to see a friendly face at the door

‘Frank, come in,’ she said. ‘Are you here to see me?’

‘Not specifically. I had a meeting with one of the partners about the rape case he’s working on.’

‘Oh God, yes. It’s a nasty one.’

‘It is, but I’m fairly sure that the client has a non-verbal learning disorder, undiagnosed to date. Anyway, as I was here I thought I would pop in and see how you are. You didn’t seem that chirpy last time I spoke to you. And to be honest, you don’t look that great today. Are you okay?’

Maggie looked at Frank Denman’s concerned face and wondered whether she could trust him with some of her dilemma, even if not all of it. She must have hesitated for a second too long.

‘I guess the answer to that is no, then. Maybe I can help with whatever’s bothering you. I’m a great listener. Have you got time for a sandwich?’

Frank’s encouraging smile transformed his usual slightly lugubrious expression. He looked almost roguish, as if he were suggesting something rather naughty. She realised that she didn’t even know if Frank was married. She imagined him with a motherly wife fussing over him, and probably two or three grown up kids doing something clever.

‘That would be lovely, Frank. Shall we go now, if you’ve finished?’

They didn’t go far – just to the sandwich shop on the corner – but it was good to get out of the office, and Maggie filled her lungs with cold air. They made their choices, and sat down at a plastic topped table.

‘Only tell me as much as you want, Maggie. I’m not going to push you for details, but I know something’s wrong.’

Maggie swallowed. She couldn’t tell him much. It would be wrong to reveal anything that might put Frank in a difficult position with the police, if it ever came to that.

‘If it helps, you can pay me a nominal sum – the cost of my sandwich – and that would make you my client. I wouldn’t be able to divulge anything you tell me then.’

‘No, it’s okay. We don’t have to go that far. I’m a mess because of problems I’m having with Duncan.’ Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away. ‘He’s left home, and at the moment I’m not sure there’s a way back.’

‘Why do you think that? If you love him, surely there’s always a way back?’

Maggie shook her head. ‘I do love him. At least, I love the person I thought he was. I’m not sure what I think now.’

She stirred her cappuccino, watching the chocolate melt into the foam. Frank said nothing, waiting for her to say more.

‘He’s done something stupid, Frank. Got himself into a situation with some seriously evil men.’

‘Are you saying that Duncan’s evil?’

Maggie looked up. ‘Oh no. I don’t think that for a minute. But he’s lied to me. Not just recently – for the whole time we’ve been married.’

Frank took a bite of his sandwich and chewed. He swallowed, took a sip of mineral water and put his sandwich down.

‘People lie for a lot of reasons, you know. Sometimes it’s because they don’t have faith that the truth is acceptable, and they want to create a better image of themselves, present themselves in a beneficial light. The first thing you need to do is understand
why
he lied. Did he think, perhaps, that you wouldn’t want him if you knew the truth about him? And if that’s the case, you have to ask yourself if he’s right?’

She was puzzled, and Frank read her expression.

‘If his lies were to cover up his own insecurity – you know, the way someone might lie about having been made captain of the football team when in fact they weren’t even picked to play – then it’s not that important. It means he probably thought you wouldn’t think him worthy of you. But if he lied to cover up something that might make you question your love for him, something that tells you about his fundamental moral code, that’s a different matter.’