No Way Home Read online

  ‘Are you all right, boss?’ Ben had one foot on the bottom stair, his hand on the banister as he stared up at Pete, then down at the broken body just two steps from him.

  ‘Yeah.’

  Pete got to his knees and stood up, holding his injured shoulder as he focused on Fisher’s inert body, the neck bent at an odd angle.

  The ribs moved, relaxing in a slow exhalation.

  Pete reached for the banister, then thought better of it. Took a step back instead, to lean against the wall beside the doorway.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I tried to grab him, but all I got was a handful of vest. How is he?’

  Ben blinked and looked down at the prone games teacher. He stepped away from the stairs, reached for the side of the man’s neck with two fingers and paused. ‘Nothing. He’s gone.’

  Pete was suddenly reminded of Frank Benton and the fall he’d taken in the woods to the west of here when, again, Pete and Ben had gone out to make an arrest and their suspect had tried to evade them. At least Frank had survived.

  He started down the stairs, a steadying hand to the wall at his side. Reaching the bottom, he sat down heavily, pulled out his phone and dialled 101.

  ‘Exeter police station. How can I help?’

  ‘Bob, it’s Pete. I’m not going to get your car back in time. Can you send the pathologist down here to Middletown? We’ve got a DB for him.’

  ‘See, I knew you couldn’t be trusted. Do you want forensics as well?’

  ‘No need. Accidental death. I witnessed it. So did Ben.’

  ‘Shit. Sorry, mate. I’ll get onto the pathologist.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Pete hung up and looked up at Ben, who was standing by the front door, watching him.

  Ben gave him a lift of the eyebrows.

  Pete could guess what he was thinking, but it was too soon to say it. ‘You could have a peek around for a computer and see if you can get into it,’ he suggested. ‘No need for a warrant now.’

  ‘Right.’

  *

  ‘It’s getting so we can’t let you out on your own, boss,’ Dick said, giving Dave a wink as Pete and Ben stepped into the squad room. ‘What have you been up to now?’

  ‘Saving the taxpayer the cost of a trial and board and lodging for fifteen years or more. And you?’

  ‘On your desk, boss. A shiny new set of pictures of our suspect. From the bus CCTV and the cameras outside St David’s station.’

  Pete sat down, glanced through the sheets of glossy A4 and looked up with a frown. ‘So, she was walking away from the station, not into it or over to the taxi rank?’

  Dick tipped his head. ‘Peg Wright’s in the camera room today. I got her to see what she could find on the city cameras. She picked her up at the clock tower on a camera outside Central Station, then going north on the High Street. And in a queue at the bus stop on Sidwell.’

  ‘Bus going to where?’

  ‘According to the taxi company, the County Cricket Ground,’ Dave said.

  ‘I don’t suppose there’s any cameras out there, unlike the footie ground?’

  Dave shook his head, lips pursed. ‘Nope.’

  ‘But the season doesn’t start for another six weeks or more,’ Ben said.

  ‘That’s the point, I expect,’ Jill retorted. ‘She wouldn’t want to be seen getting into the cab, would she?’

  ‘Well, if she wants to hide, why go around in a bright-red skirt or dress? And we know she’s got wigs. Why be a redhead when she could blend in more as a blonde or brunette?’

  ‘Have you ever tried wearing a wig?’ Jane asked. ‘They’re hot and itchy, especially in warm weather.’

  ‘And the dress, skirt, whatever it is?’

  Jane shrugged. ‘OK. That, I can’t explain.’

  Dave looked from one to the other. ‘Have you never heard the saying “Red dress, no knickers”?’

  ‘Oh, you would, wouldn’t you?’ said Jill.

  ‘I’m just saying – maybe that’s the point. To encourage those kinds of thoughts in the cabbie she picks up. Like a test. See what response she gets.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Deliberately provoking a reaction,’ Pete added.

  ‘Which would make her a hunter, not just an opportunist or reactionary killer,’ said Ben.

  ‘Well, we did say it seemed to be turning into a spree,’ Jill said.

  ‘Yeah, but what triggered it?’ asked Jane.

  ‘If we knew that, we’d have her in custody by now,’ Dave pointed out.

  ‘You’re not just a pretty face, are you?’ Dick said.

  ‘Not just or just not?’ Jane shot back.

  ‘Oi!’ said Dave as Pete’s phone rang.

  He picked it up, missing the retort. ‘DS Gayle, Exeter CID.’

  ‘Pete, it’s Louise. I just got a call from the hospital. They’re desperate. They’ve got three nurses off sick on CDU tonight. They’re desperate for cover on the twelve till eight.’

  ‘OK. Don’t worry about it. It’s Saturday. I don’t suppose Fast-track’s going to want to overdo the overtime anyway. I’ll cover you for this afternoon so’s you can get your head down for a few hours and, if all goes to plan, we can pick things up here again on Monday.’

  Considering the amount of time she’d had off following Tommy’s disappearance, he could see how she’d want to do all she could to try to make up for it. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Thanks, love.’

  He checked his watch as he ended the call. It was ten-forty. He had an hour.

  ‘Something up, boss?’ Jane asked.

  ‘Louise. She’s picked up an extra shift. Needs me home at lunchtime.’

  ‘Best get cracking then, hadn’t we?’ said Dave.

  ‘You haven’t told me yet how you got on with the boys downstairs.’

  ‘Mostly, we didn’t. The parents had them tied up with solicitors before their heads hit the pillows last night. A few of them decided to talk to us anyway, if only to provide alibis for the times we asked them about, when those pictures were downloaded onto Fisher’s phone. And when you put it all together, they effectively alibi the others too. They’re all resident, so, two of the times, they were in the dining hall. Another one was during a hockey practice session, which clears four of them. Another was during a rugby match against a rival school, so the other five were on the pitch and the hockey players were on the sidelines. With witnesses.’

  ‘You’d have thought Fisher would be too,’ Pete pointed out. ‘That’s hardly an alibi.’

  ‘It is for the five on the pitch, boss,’ Jane said. ‘And if we accept that it was only one person doing the downloading, then the two events clear all of them.’

  ‘If we accept that premise,’ Pete emphasised. ‘Which no solicitor would.’

  ‘While they were playing with the kids downstairs,’ Jill said, ‘I was onto the school for his work schedule, going back to this time last year. They emailed it to me a few minutes ago. So, if we can pick out the uploads to Dropbox from his phone records, we can match them against where he should have been at those times and, possibly, who should have been with him.’

  ‘More significantly, if we can pick out those uploads, can we identify the account they were sent to?’ Pete asked.

  ‘We can’t,’ Ben said. ‘But, Dropbox should be able to. We’d need a warrant, I expect – privacy issues and all that. But given the exact dates and times and the source, I’d have thought they could track them. I don’t know how long it would take, mind.’

  ‘OK. You and Jill can deal with that next then. The computer issue can wait for Monday. I’ll go back to the school and ask about that. He hadn’t got one at home,’ he added for the benefit of the rest of the team. ‘But the two priorities now are to tie at least some members of the gang to those pictures and to identify our mystery redhead. Any chance of accessing any of their phones?’

  Jane shook her head. ‘Not without warrants, boss. And we haven’t got enough, individually, to get
them.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s not part of the conspiracy against you and Annie.’

  ‘Of course it bloody well is. It’s the reason for it. They’ve admitted that much. And we’ve got Chris Mellor’s testimony that they had them, which is a criminal act in itself.’

  ‘Don’t tell us,’ Dave said. ‘Tell him in there.’ He thrust his chin at Colin Underhill’s empty office and the DCI’s beyond it.

  ‘There’s times,’ Pete said, ‘when I could happily take a lump hammer in there and use it to try to beat some sense into his thick, obstructive skull.’

  ‘On the upside,’ Dave said, ‘There wouldn’t be any witnesses. That’s guaranteeable.’

  ‘I don’t know about that. I can think of at least one person who’d take the opportunity,’ Pete replied, thinking of his fellow DS, Simon Phillips, the man who’d been tasked with trying to find Tommy and who he’d had more than one disagreement with since returning to active duty. He had no doubt at all that Phillips would take any chance he was offered to end his career. But… ‘Hold on. Mellor’s already confessed. So, do we need a warrant for his phone? It’s material evidence in support of that confession.’

  ‘Yes, but we’d still need a warrant or permission to access it,’ Jane said.

  ‘Permission from whom? Him or his parents?’

  She shrugged. ‘Either, I expect.’

  ‘We could promise him a deal if he cooperates. I know he’s a horrible little shit, but he’s a follower, not a leader. I was inclined to believe him when he said he stayed back out of the way. He did nothing to stop what was happening, but… much as I don’t like it, it would get us the warrant for whichever one he got the pictures from. That would be a start and you never know – it might be the ringleader.’

  ‘Probably would be,’ Dave said. ‘I can’t see there being too many steps in a path like that.’

  ‘So, let’s give it a try. The kid first. Then, if there’s nothing doing there, try his parents. Jane, you played the good guy with him. It’s down to you.’

  ‘Gee, thanks, boss.’

  ‘Peter.’ The shout came from the direction of DI Colin Underhill’s office at the far end of the squad room, but it wasn’t his voice. Pete looked around to see the dark, uniformed figure of DCI Adam Silverstone poking his head through the door. ‘My office. Now.’

  No please, Pete thought. That’s not a good sign. He stood up. ‘Here we go again.’

  ‘Your headmaster must have got sick of the sight of you, didn’t he?’ Dave asked.

  ‘Not at all. I was a good lad.’

  Dave laughed. ‘What happened?’

  Pete shrugged and headed for the door. Glancing across the squad room, he saw that most of the other officers were studiously working, but one or two looked up and met his gaze.

  Simon Phillips had his head firmly down, but Pete was sure he could see a smirk on his face.

  He stepped out into the corridor and headed along to Silverstone’s door. He had knocked only once when the shout came from within. ‘Come.’

  He entered. He hadn’t even got the door closed when the DCI demanded, ‘What the hell happened?’

  ‘Sir?’ Pete turned to face him.

  ‘Don’t act thick, Detective Sergeant. It doesn’t suit you.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ Pete stood stiffly in front of his desk.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Do I take it this is about Samuel Fisher, sir?’

  Silverstone’s lips tightened. He made a noise in his throat that was almost a growl.

  ‘He fell, sir. He took a swing at me with a dumbbell, missed, and the momentum carried him forward, so he went through the banister at the top of his stairs. I tried to catch him, but couldn’t. Ben saw it all.’

  ‘Hmm. For which you should be duly grateful. Otherwise, you’d be out of here, pending an investigation.’ Silverstone exhaled noisily. ‘Why is it that whenever anything significant happens in your day, I have to hear about it from someone else?’

  ‘We’re kind of busy, sir. There was nothing to be done about it and a hell of a lot else to do, so I just got on with it.’

  ‘A man’s died, Detective Sergeant. In your presence. While you were attempting to arrest him, if I’m not mistaken. You can’t just ignore it. The press certainly won’t and neither will Headquarters.’

  ‘We’ll fill out the necessary forms, sir. But, like I said, we’ve got a lot on. A killer out there on the streets who we’re struggling to identify, never mind apprehend. We haven’t got time to waste on things that aren’t urgent.’

  ‘You haven’t…’ Rage suffused Silverstone’s face. He planted his hands on his desk and came up out of his chair. ‘What the Devil do you think this is? The Wild West?’

  ‘I don’t, sir. But it’s getting a bit like it out there for the city’s taxi drivers, so we need to find whoever’s going after them before the papers start calling it that. This city – this county – relies on the tourist industry. We get a reputation for that kind of trouble, it won’t do anybody any good.’

  ‘Damn it, Sergeant, do not presume to lecture me.’

  ‘I’m not, sir. I’m just answering your question.’

  ‘Get out!’ Silverstone shouted.

  ‘Sir.’

  Pete didn’t need telling twice. He turned to the door and was reaching for the handle when Silverstone snapped, ‘Sergeant.’

  He turned back. ‘Sir?’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  Pete frowned. ‘Back to my desk, sir.’

  Silverstone paused, looking almost confused. Then he blinked. ‘In future, I want to be informed immediately when something of this level of significance occurs. Do you understand?’

  ‘Sir.’

  Silverstone nodded towards the door. ‘Go.’

  Pete stepped out. As he walked back down the short corridor he was shaking his head. The DCI seemed to be losing it. It seemed, at times, like he couldn’t handle the pressure. Exeter was a city, a county town, but at the end of the day, it was a small, friendly and generally peaceful place. If he couldn’t cope here, he had no chance in somewhere like Manchester or London. They might call him Fast-track, but Pete was starting to wonder if he was on the fast-track to early retirement on health grounds.

  We can but hope, a small voice at the back of his mind said. But in truth, Pete wouldn’t wish that kind of ending on anyone’s career. He was reminded of what Louise had gone through for months after Tommy’s disappearance. She had come out the other side eventually, but only with the support of her family. Himself and Annie. He didn’t know what Adam Silverstone’s home situation was – the man kept his private life strictly private – but he didn’t suppose it was anywhere near as solid and supportive as his own.

  *

  ‘Christ, don’t we even get a break on the weekends in here?’

  Brian smiled. ‘That’s the one way in which these establishments are still rather Victorian, I’m afraid. Sunday is a day of rest, but that’s all you get.’

  ‘All we get or all you get?’ Tommy asked.

  ‘All the specialised staff get.’

  ‘So, what about us inmates?’

  ‘What do you think, Tommy?’

  ‘I think I’m here for nothing much more than a misdemeanour in the first place, that’s what I think. Carrying a knife. I needed it for the work I was doing, for Christ’s sake. What are they going to do – arrest everybody who works on a fair, on a farm, in a warehouse or anywhere else you need a knife?’

  Brian sighed heavily. ‘You know perfectly well it wasn’t the fact you were carrying it – it was the type of knife you were carrying. Why are we going around in circles, Tommy? What are you trying to avoid talking about?’

  Tommy laughed. ‘If I told you that, I wouldn’t be very good at avoiding it, would I?’

  ‘So, there is something. We haven’t talked about your family life yet, have we? What’s your mum like? She’s been in every day to see you here. She must love you very much. Tell me about her.�
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  ‘Why?’

  ‘So, I can try to understand what’s brought you here.’

  ‘What’s my mum got to do with that?’

  ‘She played a major part in your formative years, Tommy. Of course she’s relevant.’

  ‘How do you know? She might have been at work all the time.’

  Brian’s head tilted to one side, his gaze focusing on Tommy. ‘Was she?’

  ‘She’s a nurse. What do you think?’ He folded his arms across his chest.

  Brian nodded slowly. ‘Nurses tend to be very caring people. I imagine she’d have tried her best to be there for you as much as possible.’

  Tommy said nothing, holding a blank expression on his face as he waited for the psychiatrist to fill the silence.

  ‘Didn’t she?’

  Tommy shrugged, maintaining his silence.

  ‘How much younger is your sister?’ Brian asked next.

  ‘Three years.’

  ‘And how do you get on with her?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Has that always been the case?’

  ‘Dunno.’ He shrugged.

  Brian leaned forward, elbows on his knees. ‘What is it that you’re afraid of, Tommy?’

  He frowned.

  ‘You’ve heard of doctor-patient privilege? Whatever you tell me is just between you and me. Nobody else can know about it.’

  ‘Well, what’s the point then? What’s all this for?’ He waved a hand at the room they were in – Brian’s office and consulting room was large and bright, even with the vertical blinds closed. The desk was pale wood, like the shelves that covered half of one wall and were filled with books – not all of them psychiatric tomes. There were children’s books too, on the lower shelves.

  ‘To figure out why people like you are here, Tommy, and try to help them improve their lives and hopefully not come back.’