‘It’s not yours?’ Amanda wanted to know.
‘I’ve never seen it before.’ On a different day, with less on my mind, the unexpected presence of a small electronic gizmo might have triggered more questions. Today, I had entirely too many things to focus on, so I took it back when Amanda offered it and slipped it back into my pocket.
I had a bunch of missed calls from my father and several from Jagjit but no messages. I knew I probably ought to call him back to see what he wanted, but heading for the exit from Maidstone police station, it wasn’t even going to make it into the top ten on my priority list.
The door delivered us into a walled path that ran along the side of the station and back to the road at the front. It was designed like that to ensure miscreants and lowlifes being released would be kept separate from the decent people coming to the front reception to report a crime in person.
Making our way along the narrow path, Amanda asked, ‘What do we do now? Is there a way to pick up the trail again?’
‘There has to be,’ growled Big Ben, sounding as ready to kill as I felt.
Amanda voiced the problem we all faced. ‘But where is he? He wasn’t at his house and the police will have uncovered all his other properties by now. If they had caught him, Quinn would have rubbed our noses in it, which means he is somewhere none of us know about.’
I sucked in a breath and started walking. ‘We have to go back to the start and work this again. If Jane is st …’
Reaching the pavement at the end of the path, a bright light flared in my face, causing me to jump. Then automatic responses kicked in, driving me off my back foot and forward to attack.
Amanda caught my right arm as it swung backward in readiness to deliver a blow, and in that moment, I saw what was happening.
A microphone appeared under my nose.
‘Tempest tell us what happened last night,’ demanded a woman I recognised. ‘Are you investigating the Sandman case? What happened in Harrietsham?’
My brain delivered the name I was trying to remember. ‘Sarah Gainsworth, yes?’ I asked, ignoring all her questions as I recalled the name to go with the face. Then her final question hit me.
Before I could react to it, another microphone appeared, and then another. Cameras were going off, photographers climbing the railings that lined the street to get a shot over the heads of those in front. There had to be thirty or more reporters and journalists lining the street.
‘Mr Michaels,’ begged a man, ‘Are you The Sandman? Is that why they arrested you? Are you guilty of multiple homicides?’
Another voice yelled, ‘How many victims are there, Tempest? Are you going to solve another crime the police are too dumb for?’
Big Ben elbowed his way to the front, smiling for the camera and handing Sarah Gainsworth a card. ‘Here you go, babe. Big Ben at your service. The important thing to focus on is how good I look in front of the camera.’
I elbowed him in the ribs and grabbed Sarah’s arm. ‘You mentioned Harrietsham. What happened in Harrietsham?’
She was taken aback by my aggression, but I wasn’t letting her arm go until she talked.
‘Two people were attacked in their home and they said a woman was taken. They said there were men wearing robes and they took Karen Gilbert by force after they broke into her house in the middle of the night.’
I felt my consciousness go iffy and started to hyperventilate.
This was me! I led them to her. It had to have been me, and then with that thought came the revelation that I had been dancing to someone else’s tune the whole time.
Sensing that my legs were going weak, I ducked my head and sucked in a few breaths.
Amanda came to my aid, gripping both my shoulders and shouting for everyone to get back. She thought I was going to pass out and that made me clench my teeth and fight it.
‘How do you know about the Sandman?’ I snarled as I came back to upright. The reporters fell silent, keen to hear what I might say next though the cameras continued to click away. Fuelled by the likelihood that I already knew the answer, I shouted, ‘Where did you hear that name?’
Shying away from the crazy man who was all but foaming at the mouth, Sarah mumbled, ‘It was announced at the press conference. Chief Inspector Quinn told us there is a serial killer in Kent and his team are hot on his tracks. He showed us photographs of the killer’s house with a macabre trophy room and said there were dozens of victims to be identified. The chief constable then explained it was Chief Inspector Quinn’s team who cracked the case and claimed it was through their diligent work that the Sandman was identified. He never mentioned you but … well, it was leaked that you had been arrested at the scene of the serial killer’s house.’
Another reporter, a man, piped up, ‘Yeah, this has got spooky written all over it so we figured you must be involved somehow. The police are refusing to comment but the rumour is you blundered in and ruined the whole thing for them. It’s your fault the killer got away and was able to claim another victim. Can you comment on that?’
Still reeling from the news about Karen Gilbert, the additional report that I was being cast as the fool spoiling the chief inspector’s perfectly crafted raid was the cherry on top.
I wanted to set the record straight. I wanted to explain how Jane was the one who uncovered the Sandman
