Vanishing Point (19 page)

‘Your worst nightmare is just beginning, Jack. And being seen talking to me is nothing compared to what’s going to happen if you don’t get your arse over here and find out what I have to tell you.’

‘Why can’t you just say it now? Save me a hell of a lot of trouble. Especially considering I’m heading a murder investigation here. I haven’t got time to shit let alone take a couple of hours out to visit you.’

‘If you don’t make the time that’ll be the least of your worries,’ warned Matthews.

‘Says who?’

‘How about your old man who you and that shit Madley set up?’

‘I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,’ answered Brady.

He clenched his right fist tight as he waited for Matthews’ response.

‘Fuck you do. And so does Ronnie Macmillan,’ answered Matthews.

‘What do you mean?’ questioned Brady as his heart started to beat faster.

‘Let’s say I saw him and his boys here making a special visit to see your “Da”. Remember him, Jack? Or did you think he’d been got rid of like that fucking tramp that Madley had torched to death?’

Brady was speechless.

His heart wasn’t racing now. It had stopped.

‘I … I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ answered Brady.

‘Fuck you do! Anyway, get your arse in here first thing tomorrow and don’t forget my fucking baccy!’

With that Matthews hung up.

Brady stood still. He couldn’t move.

Madley, he thought. He needed to talk to Madley.

Brady pressed Madley’s number.

‘Yeah, Martin … it’s me. We’ve got a problem …’ Brady began.

*

Brady had no idea why Ronnie Macmillan would want to talk to his old man. But it was clear there was trouble coming his way. Or should he say, even more trouble.

Ronnie Macmillan was trouble of the nastiest sort. The kind of trouble that Brady could do without.

Brady wearily sighed.

He knew he should go and visit Matthews but he didn’t have the time. The day was running away from him and he still hadn’t held the briefing.

Brady put his jacket on and left his office, locking the door behind him.

He didn’t trust anyone.

And after the day he’d had, who could blame him?

Chapter Twenty-Five

Brady attempted to run up the stairs to the second floor but failed miserably. His leg was now giving him so much jip, coupled with the pain from his bruised ribs, that he found himself limping. He paused for a moment, wincing as he bent down to massage the old wound, waiting for the agonising spasm to cease.

Too many months behind a desk, he mused. Six months of paper-pushing to suddenly being thrown a case of this magnitude was taking its toll. Both physically and mentally.

He had a briefing to hold and he was late. Add in that the briefing had already been put back by too many crucial hours.

He forced himself to make the final steps up to the second floor, cursing inwardly at the debilitating burst of pain. He desperately needed some more painkillers. But first, he had a briefing to give.

He limped along the corridor, heading for what had been assigned as the team’s Incident Room.

As he reached the room his phone vibrated.

‘Brady,’ he answered.

Three words hit him.

‘It’s her, sir,’ stated the liaison officer who had accompanied Brian Ryecroft to ID the body.

Brady paused, digesting the news.

He could hear the agitated mumbling of his team from behind the closed door. Every so often the name ‘Simone’ was thrown in, swiftly followed by ‘bastards!’ It was clear that tempers were frayed. People were on edge. Angry at what had happened to one of their own. Scared even, that whoever did it might strike again. Worst case scenario, they could have a cop killer on their hands.

‘He’s certain?’ demanded Brady.

Given the condition of the body, he had to ask.

‘Yes, sir. No question.’

Brady couldn’t imagine the pain that Brian Ryecroft would be feeling after seeing the horror of what had happened to his daughter.

‘Tell Mr Ryecroft I’m really sorry for his loss, will you?’ replied Brady, knowing that his words would carry little comfort.

‘Of course, sir.’

Brady disconnected the call and steeled himself before facing his team. This radically changed the investigation. Instead of some unidentified body they now had the victim’s name.

Steadying himself Brady opened the door and walked in. The first person to catch his eye was Claudia.

‘Sir, can I have a quick word before you start?’ Conrad asked before his boss had a chance to question Claudia’s presence.

Brady nodded, aware that Claudia was watching him. Closely; too closely.

Then he realised why. He looked as if he’d had the crap kicked out of him; which he had.

Brady walked back out, followed by Conrad who shut the door discreetly behind them.

‘What is she doing in there?’

‘She’s got some information about the branding found on the murder victim, sir,’ answered Conrad.

Brady narrowed his eyes.

‘What exactly has she got?’

‘She hasn’t said, sir. She’s saving it for the briefing.’

‘I don’t think so, Conrad. She has no jurisdiction here.’

Admittedly he had asked her to look into the branding marks found on the victim’s body, but he hadn’t expected her to turn up at the briefing without talking to him first.

‘She seems to think she does,’ Conrad replied uncomfortably.

‘Yeah? Well, let’s see about that, shall we?’

Before Brady opened the door, he looked at Conrad.

‘While I have a word with her can you let the team know that the body’s been positively identified as sixteen-year-old Melissa Ryecroft?’

Conrad looked mildly shaken. But he quickly composed himself.

‘Yes, sir.’

He looked the way Brady had felt when he heard those fateful words.

Conrad waited for his boss to make a move but Brady looked distracted. His face dark, troubled.

In all the time he had worked with him, Conrad had never seen Brady look so on edge. It was too easy to dismiss it as a reaction to Simone Henderson’s attack and the gruesome murder case which, if not solved, could have dire ramifications for them all; in particular Brady. But Conrad knew there was more to it. Exactly what, he couldn’t say, but he had known Brady too long and had too much respect for him not to be concerned about what it was that was affecting him so badly.

Conrad followed Brady as he suddenly turned and walked into the Incident Room.

‘Claudia?’ Brady said, addressing his ex-wife as he entered the room.

Conrad kept his head down, avoiding Claudia’s questioning look as he walked over to the large conference table.

Claudia looked from Conrad to Brady.

‘Yes?’ she questioned, her vivacious green eyes trying to gauge what was going on between the two men.

‘Can we have a word?’

‘Of course,’ she answered.

Brady detected a slight hesitation in her voice.

He watched as she collected her thoughts. She irritably swept her long, curly red hair back from her face as she stood up, aware that he was watching her. As was the rest of the room.

Not surprisingly she was smartly dressed.

She had always worn clothes that commanded respect from men; she used to be a lawyer and was damned good at it.

She walked across the room towards him with an air of control. But Brady could tell that something was troubling her. He knew her too well.

Brady walked out into the corridor and waited until she had closed the door.

‘Why are you here?’ he said bluntly, annoyed that she hadn’t had the courtesy to ask his permission first, before making herself a part of his team.

‘It might surprise you that I’m actually here to help you with this investigation. Be grateful – it’s my day off.’

‘Really? Then maybe you’ve got better things to do than sitting in on my briefing.’

‘Believe me I do. But right now my only concern is helping you with this girl’s murder. Not wasting time arguing.’

Brady didn’t look convinced.

‘Have you seen yourself?’ she questioned, scathingly taking in the damage to his face.

‘What exactly do you have?’ demanded Brady, cutting straight to the point.

‘A typical Jack Brady response. Always dodging the bullet!’

‘I’m serious, Claudia, why are you here?’

She crossed her arms and looked at him.

‘I have information that could be invaluable to the investigation.’

‘And?’ Brady asked. ‘It still doesn’t explain why you’re sat in there. Surely a phone call would have been as good?’

He was mad with her. And he was mad at himself because here he was still letting her get to him. But ironically, he was relieved to have her there, despite how he was coming across.

‘I did try calling you. Maybe you should check your messages. And then I sat waiting in your office for over half an hour.’

‘I got caught up,’ replied Brady edgily.

With everything that had happened since he got back to the station he had simply forgotten to contact her. A foolish oversight, given the information he needed from her.

‘I have better things to do than wait around for you to show. And whether you like it or not, right now you need my expertise,’ she pointed out with an edge of irritation to her voice.

‘I’m sorry, alright?’ Brady said quietly.

He knew he desperately needed her assistance on this case.

She gave a slight nod. Her way of accepting his apology.

‘I’m here now so why don’t you tell me exactly what it is you’ve found out?’ he asked, trying to defuse the situation.

‘I’ll brief you in the meeting with the rest of the team. I’ve already discussed my findings with DCI Gates and he’s agreed that I now need to be part of this investigation.’

Before Brady had a chance to remind her of who exactly was in charge she quickly moved on.

‘I did some research on the photograph you sent me of the letter “N” burnt into Simone Henderson’s breast.’ Claudia stated. She looked up at his darkening expression. ‘Don’t worry, this is between you and me. Luckily for you I talked to Conrad first before my meeting with DCI Gates otherwise he’d be wanting to know why you’ve been covertly working on DI Adamson’s case and not your own murder investigation.’

Brady didn’t answer. But the look on his face was enough for her to know that he was all too aware he was crossing the line.

She wasn’t sure why, but she hoped for his sake he wasn’t on some personal crusade.

‘I’ve cross-referenced the image with every possible case of branding we know of, but nothing. It’s a dead-end.’

Brady tried to hide his disappointment.

‘I’m sorry, Jack. For her, that is – I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.’

Brady nodded. He checked the time. It was 5:15pm and time was running out. ‘Alright, let’s get on with the briefing so we can see exactly what you have for us regarding Melissa Ryecroft’s murder.’

‘Melissa Ryecroft?’ questioned Claudia.

‘Like I said, let’s get on with the briefing,’ instructed Brady.

She was now part of his team and he had no choice but to treat her accordingly.

Claudia hesitated.

‘There’s something I still need to discuss with you …’ she said hesitantly. ‘It’s … personal …’

Her eyes were serious and that worried Brady. But right now he had a team of people sitting around doing nothing. He could hear them, their voices getting louder. They’d waited long enough, he decided. If it was personal, then standing here wasn’t the right place for whatever it was she wanted to talk about.

‘My office, after the briefing,’ he ordered as he turned to open the door.

‘Jack?’

He turned and looked at her. She was clearly agitated.

‘This is important … it’s personal …’ she faltered.

‘Not now – later,’ Brady insisted, his tone final.

‘You’re the boss,’ she said, shaking her head as she watched him walk away.

She took a moment to compose herself before turning and following Brady back into the Incident Room.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Brady had to give Conrad his due. His deputy had done his best to dress it up. But the room was what it was: a dumping ground for unsolved cases from years ago. Overflowing filing cabinets filled with local crime cases spanning fifty years dominated one wall. Cardboard boxes with ongoing murder cases sat on top of the metallic grey cabinets. The cases were still classed as open, even though the murders had happened decades ago.

There was only a handful of people sitting at the table, strategically positioned in the centre of the room. This was his team. If that was the right word. He had no idea how they were going to manage to solve a major murder case with only these resources.

Brady studied Harvey, the oldest member of his team. He wasn’t the kind of Detective Sergeant to waste time with small talk. Unmarried and in his mid-forties, he made the best of his average, stocky appearance. A smart, dark grey M&S suit with a burgundy shirt and matching tie. His light brown hair was cropped short in an attempt to minimise the flecks of grey. His square jaw was severely shaven with telling razor nicks.

Brady’s gaze drifted over to DC Kodovesky who was sitting next to him; the youngest member of his team and Harvey’s partner. They made a good team, a fact that still surprised him.

Kodovesky kept herself to herself. Unlike Harvey, she didn’t socialise with the other coppers. She came in, did the job and then went home. Always the first one in and the last one home. Brady admired her dedication and determination. She knew where she wanted to be, which was sitting behind the DCI’s desk. Her long black hair was harshly pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her clothes were professional yet practical: a light grey wool polo neck with dark grey trousers and low-heeled black boots. In all the time she had been stationed at Whitley Bay, Brady had never known Kodovesky to wear make-up. Not that she needed it.

She had an air of cool detachment about her which Brady assumed she needed for the job. She was a woman in her late twenties trying to make a career for herself in a male-dominated police force. Consequently she had more to prove than her colleagues.