To Snatch a Thief (13 page)

‘Really?’

‘I told them their thanks were enough.’

‘Huh.’ He didn’t seem angry anymore, rather faintly amused. ‘Chocolates would have been nice.’

‘They would yes, but that would have been illegal, wouldn’t it? We’re not allowed to accept gifts from the public, remember.’

‘Seems a crime not to.’ Skye looked up at him and grinned.

He didn’t smile back as she expected. Instead, something shifted in his eyes. ‘I’ve made allowances so far, Forrester,’ he stated. ‘Don’t push your luck. Cross me too often and you’ll see a side of me I promise you won’t like.’ With that he nodded to the window. ‘They’re about to start.

Thrown off balance, she forced her attention back to the interview in progress.

Ryan read Violet her rights, introduced himself and his partner, told her they were recording the interview. After asking her if she understood the procedure and getting a yes for an answer, he began. ‘You have waived your right to a lawyer being present. Is that correct?’

‘I have no need of earthly council.’ Her eyes seemed less settled now, and she began to tug at her sleeve. ‘I know what lives in that house,’ Violet whispered. In a jerky move, she leant forward. ‘Aliens.’

Hunter’s raised an eyebrow. Skye snorted.

‘And which house would that be?’

‘Number twenty eight.’

‘Hmm. And what makes you think they’re aliens, Violet?’ Ryan asked, shooting his partner a look.

Violet twisted her hands together as though rinsing them under a tap. Under the table one of her knees began to twitch as her heel drummed on the floor. ‘It’s obvious to those whose eyes are open to the truth.’

‘Well my partner and I are overdue for an eye adjustment, so why don’t you tell us?’

Skye chuckled to herself. This should be good.

Still wringing her hands, still tapping, Skye watched Violet’s eyes narrow. ‘There’s comings and goings at all hours,’ Violet said, giving a slight shudder. ‘Strange lights and peculiar noises. I know what it is, you see, that house, it’s a converging point; one of many cracks in the fabric of the universe; a meeting place of two parallel worlds.’ The woman clutched a hand to the crucifix as her tongue flicked over her lips. ‘Those creatures have leached through the cracks and, in so doing, infected us with this terrible disease. Humans have no defence against it. If they aren’t stopped, it will be the end of us all.’

It was all Skye could do not to burst out laughing. ‘What news channel does she watch?’ she wondered and got a nod of agreement from Hunter.

‘I read in the paper,’ he said wryly. ‘That, since that story aired, sales of Preventix have gone through the roof. Every dark cloud, it would seem, has a silver lining for somebody.’

Ryan glanced at the mirror; his head gave a slight shake. ‘Have you ever spoken to Annabelle Crossley or her cohab personally?’

‘You can’t converse with alien species.’

‘So you’d be unaware that the couple are registered to take in foreign students at that address? That the youngsters often play loud music with accompanying colourful holos, and sit up late studying.’

‘I know what I know.’

‘Ms Templeton-Smyth,’ Ryan continued. ‘This morning you opened your front door and, without provocation, grabbed hold of a seven year old boy. What did you intend to do with him?’

‘Boy? You see, they have you all fooled.’ She shook her head as if Ryan was particularly thick. ‘That creature was no boy, but a juvenile parasite with a huge appetite for human flesh. They grow exceedingly quickly and breed within days.’

She started to rise, but the female private pushed her back down. ‘I’ve been chosen, you see.’ Violet seemed incapable of sitting still. All her fidgety movements were becoming more obvious, and her eyes took on an eerie shine. ‘My mission’s clear,’ she said. ‘To rid the world of extraterrestrial domination. I wasn’t found wanting when the bugle call rang and called me to the crusade.’

‘When you popped another capsule,’ Hunter commented.

‘S-o-o you admit you intended to hurt the boy?’

Violet looked surprised at the question. With her toe planted, the heel continued to vibrate. ‘He had to be exterminated.’

Beside Skye, Hunter sighed. ‘She’s either a damn good actress, or she’s clinically insane. There’s no point in continuing this. We’ll refer her to the police psychiatrist. He’s going to love her.’

Skye could tell Ryan was thinking the same thing. He leaned back in his chair. ‘One more thing,’ he said. ‘Before we wrap this up, did you, at approximately six thirty last evening, post this package through the letterbox of number thirty four? And subsequently give a false witness statement to the officers who interviewed you at the time?’ He produced an evidence bag with a brown padded envelope inside. ‘I should tell you that your fingerprints were found on the envelope and some of its contents.’

Skye let out a breath. ‘I should have guessed.’

‘The cracks must be closed,’ Violet intoned in her creepy voice. ‘Total annihilation of convergence points is the only way to prevent them crawling through.’

‘Batty old bag,’ Skye scoffed. ‘Did you find a hat and scarf that match the security camera footage at her place?’

Hunter unhooked his thumbs from his pockets, folded his arms across his chest. ‘We certainly did.’

Privately Skye wondered how any officer had missed the woman was nuts when they talked to her that night but, not wanting to upset her colleagues more than she seemed to, kept that thought to herself. No doubt Hunter would ask some questions of his own.

‘I should imagine the psychiatrist’s report recommends she be sent to a secure facility for evaluation,’ he remarked. ‘She’s been using. You can see she’s coming down from something; getting edgy. When we analyse the cocktail of drugs we turned up at her house I bet several hallucinogens rear their ugly heads. She also had a couple more fake bombs waiting to be sent to other people she was targeting.’

‘Drugs? But she’s like,
old
.’

‘Sadly, even with cell regeneration techniques to keep us younger longer, we all succumb in the end, Forrester. She could have been using chemicals recreationally for decades.’

Skye couldn’t see Violet as ever being a party girl, and said so. He merely shrugged. ‘I’ve never understood the drug scene,’ she offered. ‘Too many bad things happen, so why risk it.’ Seeing an opening she jumped in. ‘Um, like what happened to Corporal Blake.’

All expression left Hunter’s face.

‘I’ve been looking into her last two cases,’ she pushed. ‘The floaters pulled out of the Thames? I’m sure they’re connected.’

He leant a shoulder against the wall. ‘How?’

‘I can’t prove it yet, but I think they both worked at the same place. Maybe they knew one another; maybe they had an affair and Jonathan Powter’s steady girlfriend found out and got jealous or something. And then there’s…’ She thought of the text message she’d received, and almost told him, but would have to admit to going to Royalty and calling Vincent unauthorised. Not a wise move after today’s events.

Hunter tilted his head. ‘Go on.’

She changed what she’d started to say. ‘Corporal Blake put a flag on Powter’s file. She’d interviewed his friends twice, but I think she felt something was off. Willow Frobisher’s old boss said she was nosey… could be she nosed into something she shouldn’t have, or flirted with the wrong bloke.’

‘What does Private Dawson think?’ He saw her hesitate. His eyes went flat as he straightened. ‘Whatever beef you two have, sort it out or get over it. When you have something more concrete than imagination, copy it to me.’

She lifted a hand to shove at her tangle of hair. ‘Fine. I’ll do that. No problem…sir.’

Violet had relapsed into her everybody’s favourite granny mode as they led her out of interview and into a holding cell. Skye didn’t think bail would be an option. Briefly she wondered what would happen to her horrible dog, then shrugged off images of it waiting on death row. There was always somebody crazy enough to take it.

.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Skye woke with a start, her skin damp with sweat; the mood of the dream leaving her shaky, muddled. She ordered light, needing to prove she was there in her room, in the present; that, by some terrible twist of fate, she hadn’t been beamed back to the past.

Calmer, she pressed the palm of a hand to her eyes and drew a deep breath. Too rattled to stay in bed she threw back the covers, swung her legs to the floor then stood carefully, shivering in the dark.

Wrapping herself in a dressing gown, she walked barefoot to the window, disengaged the shield and looked over the rooftops to the city. She’d been twelve years old in the dream, clinging terrified and helpless as her father coughed his life away, begging him not to leave them alone. He’d left anyway, and she learned a lesson. Never rely on anyone but yourself. Survive or die, it was down to you. So she’d taken control of her life, and sworn never to be that helpless girl again.

She stood, deep in thought, until she heard Lexie stir in the room across the hall. They’d never had much, she reflected, she hadn’t been greedy - just enough to get by, but she’d kept them together. And then Hunter had chosen her and turned her world on its head once again. She was going to be a snatcher and already had her own case to solve.

Would she let that text threat beat her? she wondered. Surely Willow deserved better than that. No, she decided, her mind made up. I’ll be damned if I’ll give up now.

As lunch-time approached the incident room emptied: some leaving-do in Forensics had claimed half the building, but as Skye didn’t know the person involved, she hadn’t been included.

Her shift ended in half an hour anyway – she’d the whole afternoon off. In the meantime… With a quick glance towards the door, she opened Corporal Blake’s notes once again. The flags on Jonathan Powter’s file jumped out at her. Well hell. She’d been so engrossed with Willow, she hadn’t given him much thought. Bring me something more than imagination, Hunter had said.
Okay. Watch me
.

Blake had interviewed his workmates twice… She was going to find out why. Blocking visual she punched numbers into her klip.

‘Good morning. This is Royalty Trading. How can I help you?’

She took three, deep steadying breaths. ‘I’d like to speak with Robyn McCourt in Nutritional Science.’

‘Certainly. Who shall I say is calling?’

This was the tricky part. ‘Um, he doesn’t know me personally, but we have a mutual friend.’

‘Please wait while I see if he’s free.’

She drummed her fingers on the desk, bouncing in her seat much like Violet had. The receptionist was taking forever. At last a male voice answered. ‘Hi. Rob speaking.’

‘Hi. Look, you don’t know me, but I was wondering if we could meet somewhere to talk about Jonathan – Jonathan Powter.’

‘Jon’s dead. Are you a reporter?’

‘No. Look, it’s complicated. If we could arrange a place… meet for lunch or something, I’ll explain. You choose the place. Please. It is important.’

The silence on the other end went on so long she was tempted to engage visual to see if he’d disconnected, but finally he said, ‘Okay. Why not? But if you turn out to be a journalist, I’ll sue the crap out of your paper. Jon’s family have been through enough. There’s a wine bar not far from here, Cassagrain. I’ll meet you there in an hour.’

Filled with office types in collars and ties, the wine bar, with its potted palms and secluded alcoves, was more up-market than she was used to. She bought a coke at the bar and perched on a shiny black stool at a glass-topped table in a quiet corner where she could watch the door. Experimentally, she tapped the tracker under her skin. One, two, testing. Skye smiled, feeling sure Hunter would be safely scoffing canapés at the party.

She tagged Robyn, from his ID shot in the file, as soon as he walked in: short, kind of geeky, with round owlish eyes and a mop of mousey hair. Raising a hand she waved him over. ‘Hi. Thanks for coming.’

He didn’t order a drink. He didn’t sit down. ‘Who are you? What’s this about?’

‘My name’s Skye Forrester. I’m not a snatcher, not yet, but I’m training to be one. I’m studying cold cases. Jonathan’s just one of them.’ She showed him her cadet ID card.

Robyn drew out a stool, slid in beside her. ‘I’ve been interviewed about Jon twice,’ he said. ‘What else is there to say? He was a good bloke, now he’s gone.’ Picking up a beer mat, he spun it between his fingers, studying the movement. ‘He was a good mate.’

‘Did you go around together outside work?’

Robyn shook his head. ‘We used to. He and Susie’d make up a foursome with me and my girlfriend. But towards the end we stopped. Just saw each other at work.’

‘Why was that?’ She watched him run a hand through his floppy hair and take a nervous glance around.

‘Jon started getting some weird ideas. He’d always banged on about saving this, that and the other. Joined every green group on the planet; went on every protest rally, and to begin with it was funny – just Jon being Jon. But then he changed.’

Pushing her coke to one side, Skye leant forward. ‘In what way?’

‘He got weirder.’ Robyn lowered his voice as a couple took the table next to them. ‘He stopped coming out with us; wouldn’t tell us where he went, or what he was doing. Just kept saying he’d joined a group who had the answer to the world’s problems. He even blocked Susie out; wouldn’t tell us anything except they were going to save the planet. Um, could I have a sip of that?’

When she passed him her coke, he drained the glass. ‘Thanks. Talking about this brings it all back.’ Staring into the empty glass, he ran his fingers around the rim. After a couple of minutes he looked up and started talking again. ‘Jon started working late, disappeared for days at a time,’ he explained. ‘When I asked him where he’d been he got all defensive and said he was into something bigger than all of us.’

‘And you don’t know who this group were? Who he was involved with?’

Now Robyn flicked his eyes to the door. ‘No, and I didn’t want to. Frankly he scared the shit out of me. Some of those fringe groups are bad, bad news.’

‘Okay. One other thing. Did he ever mention a girl? Willow Frobisher. She was found drowned around the same time as Jonathan.’