Yes. He was sorry it hadn’t worked out.
I am sorry too, Harry. I saw the new girl.
Shit.
Harry felt guilty now and the anger returned. Emma had spoilt things between Lucy and him. He tried to explain to Lucy, but she went all silent and moody. Still, he thought she was listening when he told her he still loved her and that he would never forget her.
Thank you, Harry. I won’t forget you either.
Good. He started to wash Lucy, rubbing the foam all over her and trying to ignore the patches of blue and purple skin.
Harry. The little whore Emma isn’t the one you know?
He hoped Lucy was wrong about that, but he knew he would have to wait and see.
Harry washed her all over and then removed her from the bath. He dried her thoroughly, and because she had been a bit naughty in mentioning Emma he decided to fuck her once more. He moved inside her, trying to be gentle and came with a gasp after only a few seconds. His eyes brimmed with tears as he looked down on Lucy’s face, knowing he would not have her again. He rolled off and then took his sewing kit and did his work, making sure nobody else could have her either.
All this time Harry had had the radio playing a local music station to try and take his mind off things. But just after he finished dressing Lucy, the bitch newsreader went and ruined the whole day.
Mitchell.
The police were closing in on him. The bulletin said Richard Trent had been arrested and the police had questioned his neighbours. Harry wished he had never got mixed up in Mitchell’s little game. If the police got Mitchell they would break him and then Harry knew he would lead them to him. Mitchell would be able to talk his way out of their hands, feed them some candy and fuck them over.
Harry thought Lucy looked worried, but he told her it was going to be OK, that everything would be fine.
Then, because Lucy was leaving, he thought of Trinny. How it wasn’t so fine for her. They had never had the time together she wanted and Harry had to leave her in the cold wood. He was truly sorry for her death and, although beyond his control, he had always thought somebody should pay for it.
He looked at Lucy and saw she was smiling, a great big grin on her face as if she had thought of something ingenious. He asked her what it was.
Mitchell, she said. Then she told him what to do.
Chapter 26
Crownhill Police Station, Plymouth. Wednesday 3rd November. 1.35 pm
Savage moved the phone another six inches away from her ear in an effort to reduce the volume of the tirade coming from the earpiece. Hardin had called ten minutes ago and the bellowing hadn’t stopped long enough for her to get a word in.
‘Results, Charlotte. Yesterday would have been fantastic. Today would be good. By the weekend fucking mandatory. Understand?’
She did and she knew the reason for the anger too. A couple of the Sunday papers had sent reporters down from London looking for titbits and they had been trawling round the city. They had even contacted one of the victims. If any of the papers went front-page with the murders and rapes on Sunday, the Monday morning briefing would be hell. Might be better to call in sick.
Hardin’s rant continued but he began to veer into a more general moan about budget cuts and pressure from above to deliver, and Savage put her mouth on a ‘yes, sir, no, sir,’ autopilot setting, kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on the desk. When Hardin went off on one of his political diatribes the one-sided conversation could continue for a good half an hour.
The return of Riley and Enders to the Major Crimes suite interrupted the rhetoric and Savage cut Hardin short, mentioning a possible new piece of evidence coming to light. Riley stuck his thumbs up and Enders nodded, a big smile painted across his face. Hardin told her to get back in touch. Soonest. Savage hung up and asked Riley what was up.
‘Mr Everett Mitchell is up,’ Riley said.
‘Aye,’ Enders said, ‘and from what we have just seen “up” is how he likes it. Priapic. A permanent condition.’
‘There’s the wife as well. She is, ah, well you might say she is not shy about coming forward.’
‘Darius is right, ma’am. Mrs Mitchell is a bit of a stunner. No. I meant to say she is quite a lady. Well, maybe lady isn’t the right-’
‘I don’t do cryptic, Sergeant Riley and Constable Enders,’ Savage said. ‘Could you please tell me in plain English what the hell you two are talking about?’
Riley explained about what happened with the camera and Mitchell’s refusal to allow them upstairs.
‘Well, I don’t think I would want a couple of strange men snooping around my house if Samantha was tucked up in bed. Maybe his daughter really is ill.’
‘I somehow doubt it, ma’am.’
‘Why is that?’
‘I did some checking and Mr and Mrs Mitchell don’t have any children.’
‘Well, well, looks like Mr Mitchell just perjured himself. The only thing worrying me is his eagerness to show you those pictures.’
‘I can tell you, ma’am, it worried me too!’
‘No. What I mean is you said the room in the pictures did not match the room in Forester’s videos.’
‘Those houses are four beds, ma’am.’ Enders this time. ‘They might have a special room for that kind of stuff. Lots of couples do.’
‘Do they?’
‘Well, no, I mean not me and the wife. We haven’t got the space, not with-’
Savage waved at Enders to stop and reached for the phone and called Hardin. He sounded sceptical but agreed that as a line of enquiry anything was worth a punt. If even one of the girls had been in the house then there would be some trace of them, and the video option and connection with Forester and Zebo would be a bonus.
‘So we need a warrant, and urgently, I’ll bet?’
‘Please, sir.’
‘OK, but Garrett and Davies will be doing the knocking. This sounds like it has more to do with operation Leash.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And Charlotte, you had better be right on this one. The spotlight is shining on us. Any cock-ups will be all too noticeable. Understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
As she hung up Savage couldn’t help thinking of Riley’s description of the pictures on Mitchell’s camera. Noticeable cock-ups seemed to be everywhere.
She was starting to explain to Riley that it was jobs-on-the-line time if his hunch didn’t pay off when the phone rang. Hardin again. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but Davies was already on his way to Moor Vale. Along with an Armed Response Vehicle.
*
Enders did the driving while Savage got Riley to get on the radio and find out the full story.
‘Triple nine, ma’am. From one of the neighbours. A man has driven into Mitchell’s front door ram-raid style. The neighbour saw the man get out and rush inside with some sort of weapon. Sounds as if someone has beaten us to it. But they can’t have known we were coming back, can they?’
‘No, but one good thing is this gets us in with no waiting around for the warrant.’
As they raced into the estate it was obvious which house had been targeted. A blue Ford Galaxy had smashed into the front colonnades of number seven and the porch had collapsed on top, smashing the windscreen.
