THE MURDERER'S SON a gripping crime thriller full of twists Read online

  None of the flats had more than two bedrooms, which meant that it was a relatively quiet development with very few children, and that suited Skye. It wasn’t that she didn’t like children, but bored kids during school holidays could play havoc with shift work.

  As she pulled in to her designated parking space, she felt a wave of relief. She loved her home. From the moment she had set foot in it, she had felt at peace. She felt safe there, something that she never felt in Daniel’s expensive townhouse. Every day she offered up a little prayer of thanks to her grandmother for leaving her the money for the deposit. Her job alone would never have allowed her to buy a home in Tavernier Court. It was not big, but it was what estate agents always refer to as a “very desirable location.”

  She secured the car and walked to her front door. She unlocked it and carried the cat inside. After retrieving all her bags, she closed the door and opened the flap on the carrier.

  ‘Welcome to your new home,’ she said to Asti. The cat strode out, her tail flicking angrily.

  ‘Well? What do you think?’

  The cat stalked regally around, tentatively sniffing at the furniture. She didn’t look very pleased with her unscheduled change of residence.

  ‘Believe me, it’s better than the Cats’ Hotel, so if I were you, I’d start looking just a tad excited about your holiday destination.’ She placed the plastic tray against the wall in the hallway, undid the sack of litter and poured it in. ‘Now, first things first. Pin back your ears, because I’m going to explain the house rules.’ She fixed the cat with a firm stare. ‘Actually, there is only one rule.’ She pointed to the tray. ‘Got it, fur-face?’

  Her mobile rang before she received an answer. Skye suddenly felt apprehensive. Coming back home, she had felt distanced from all her recent troubles for a moment. Now what? She looked at the display.

  ‘Hello, Sergeant Evans. Is everything alright?’

  Marie Evans’ voice was calm. ‘Yes, this is just an update and a call to check on how you are. We know the media are hounding you.’

  ‘I’m back at my own house, Detective. I was going to ring you and give you my landline number. I don’t think I’m cut out for dealing with paparazzi.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. You’d have to be a psychopath to enjoy that kind of attention.’ Sergeant Evans hesitated, then went on, ‘There’s no news from Thailand, I’m afraid. Finding Ruby Kinder is like looking for a needle in a haystack. The map they seem to be using is as useful as a blank sheet of paper.’

  ‘I’m worried about the house,’ said Skye. ‘There are some beautiful things in it, and I’d hate there to be a break-in. I feel responsible.’

  ‘It really isn’t your problem, Skye, but I’ll make sure that our beat bobbies keep an eye on it, now we know it’s empty.’

  ‘That would be great, thanks.’ Skye exhaled. ‘How is Daniel?’

  ‘That brings me to my next point. He’s fine . . . well, he seems okay at the moment. More relaxed and approachable.’

  ‘Can I see him?’

  ‘DI Jackman wondered if you would be able to come in early this evening, at around six, if that is convenient. There are some things we’d like to discuss with you, and someone we’d like you to meet. After we’ve spoken, you can see Daniel for a while.’

  To her horror, Skye realised that part of her was afraid of seeing Daniel, scared to see him in a police station. It was just so wrong. Daniel was as much a killer as Scooby Doo was a pit bull. Yet she had to see him. She did want to see him, she needed to. She needed to hold him — though she couldn’t imagine being able to do that. ‘I’ll be there, Sergeant. But who is the person you want me to meet?’

  ‘A man called Guy Preston. He’s a doctor, Skye. Daniel has spoken with him and I really think it’s already making a difference.’

  Skye closed her eyes. A psychiatrist. Next they would be pumping Daniel full of chemicals and turning him into a zombie with all the creative genius of a pumpkin.

  ‘I think you’ll like Professor Preston, Skye. He’s a very eminent man in his field, and he has Daniel’s best interests at heart, I promise you.’

  I wonder, thought Skye. ‘Is he a psychiatrist?’

  ‘No, he’s a forensic psychologist. Big difference. And he’s good — you can take that from someone who knows.’

  ‘Okay.’ Skye knew Daniel needed help, and this man could be the answer to her prayers. Marie Evans was right, there was a big difference between the two. If a good psychologist saw Daniel’s problems for what they really were, he might finally get his head sorted out, and be able to come home. ‘Thank you, Sergeant Evans. I’ll see you at six.’

  Skye closed her phone, and it rang again immediately.

  ‘Home yet?’

  ‘Oh, Lisa, yes. Got back a few minutes ago. I was just settling the cat, and then I was going to text you.’

  ‘I’m finishing early today so I thought I’d check you’re okay before I go home.’

  ‘I’m fine. Well, I am now I’m out of that house. I was well spooked last night.’

  Skye watched Asti stalk across her lounge and take a swipe at a leaf of one of her houseplants. ‘And thanks for all your help. I really appreciate it.’

  ‘My pleasure. I love cleaning up after muddy-booted men who’ve just trashed a nice property. It’s a hobby of mine.’

  ‘In which case, you need to get out more,’ laughed Skye. ‘Or take up origami.’

  ‘You sound brighter.’

  ‘I’m going to see Daniel later.’

  ‘Ah, that explains it. Well, I’d better let you get on, but anything you want, just ring. You’ve got my number.’ Lisa paused. ‘Even if it’s late and you just want to talk after seeing your other half, I’m a night owl, so feel free to phone me.’

  ‘I might just do that. And thanks again for yesterday. You really were a lifesaver.’

  Skye went to the kitchen and found homes for Asti’s cat food and other feline accoutrements. She glanced up at the kitchen clock, a shabby-chic copy of a rustic French café wall clock, and decided that she just about had time to get some shopping before going to the police station. Then she wondered if it was fair to walk out and leave the cat alone before it had settled in properly. She glanced through the door into the lounge, and saw Asti curled in a tight ball on her sofa.

  ‘My fault, I guess. I should have told you the house rule about animals and furniture.’ Skye picked up her bag and keys. ‘But as you’re obviously so comfortable, I’ll just do the shopping. Okay with you?’

  Asti yawned. Skye shook her head and headed for Tesco.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After the interview with Daniel, Guy Preston said that he would go home to try to find his old research on Françoise Thayer, but he would definitely be back for the meeting with Daniel’s girlfriend.

  Marie found herself alone with Jackman in his office. She knew her boss would be eaten up with curiosity about her connection with Preston and decided she had better put him out of his misery. She dropped down into his visitor’s chair and smiled wearily at him. ‘It’s okay, I won’t make you beg. So, if you’re sitting comfortably, I’ll begin.’

  Jackman settled himself in his captain’s chair, and looked at her expectantly.

  ‘Once upon a time, during a particularly fraught interview with the very dangerous Terence Marcus Austin, things went, as the saying goes, tits up.’

  Marie began to describe what had happened. She was transported back to the small, stuffy room where she had sat with three others, and a man that she later found out was a deranged psychopath.

  Guy Preston sat immediately opposite Austin, still only a suspect at that stage, and contemplated him.

  Marie felt uneasy, and she had no idea why. All the other interviews had been like a game, in which Austin tried to outwit the psychologist.

  But today Austin was in a very different place. He mumbled incoherently to himself, and seemed to be talking and listening intently to someone only he was aware of. No
matter how much Preston cajoled and reasoned, Austin was having none of it.

  Terence Austin was something of an enigma, far from what you would expect a murderer to be like. He was bright, intelligent and had a clean-cut appearance that would not have been out of place on an advertisement for men’s shampoo. He had always seemed to look forward to his sessions with Professor Preston, but right now Marie was feeling alarmed.

  ‘Maybe we should suspend this interview, Doctor?’

  Two custody officers stood silently at the back of the room, and one of them cleared his throat. Marie took it as an assent to her suggestion, but Guy Preston slowly shook his head and in a calm voice said, ‘I’m certain that Terence wants to talk. Don’t you, Terence?’

  Austin sat rocking backwards and forwards, the fingers of both hands lightly touching and forming an arch, but he said nothing.

  ‘Well, even if you choose not to speak, your body language is telling me everything I need to know right now.’ Preston began making notes in very small and very precise handwriting. ‘You can be quite transparent when you behave like this. It’s pretty much textbook behaviour.’

  The doctor clearly wanted to make Austin angry, but she didn’t know why. Was it to snap him out of his present state? To let Austin know that Preston was tired of his play-acting? She thought the doctor was treading on thin ice.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ The voice was soft and full of contrition. It came as a shock to Marie. She had been preparing herself for a full-blown explosion of rage.

  Austin placed his hands gently on the table, one over the other. His head was slightly bowed, and he appeared to be praying, or seeking forgiveness.

  Then Marie saw the glint in his eye.

  The next few seconds were pandemonium. The events unfurled in a weird kind of slow motion.

  Austin’s hand was suddenly galvanised and he snatched Preston’s pen. Before any of the officers present could move, he stabbed it viciously at the doctor’s face. Preston, leaning forward over his notes, didn’t see it coming. He turned fractionally, and that action possibly saved his eye, but he could do nothing to stop the pen digging into the soft tissue of his cheek, and ripping and tearing through the flesh, down to his jaw-line.

  Marie screamed to the custody officers to call for help. One smacked his fist into the rubber panic button strip that circumnavigated the room, but the other remained rooted to the spot.

  Austin used those valuable instants to plunge the pen downward and skewer Preston’s left hand with his makeshift weapon.

  Preston let out a cry of disbelief and excruciating pain, but Marie had seen that Austin wasn’t finished yet. He wrenched the pen from Preston’s bleeding hand and she knew he was about to strike at the psychologist’s throat.

  As Austin drew his arm back ready to thrust, Marie threw herself around the table, grabbed at his wrist and slammed into him. The weight of her body took him off balance and the pen was deflected. It slid across her ribs. As they hit the floor, the two officers went into action, following them down, wrenching Austin over onto his stomach and bringing his arms up behind him. As Marie rolled away she heard the reassuring sound of the ratchet on the handcuffs clicking into place around the attacker’s wrists.

  ‘The whole thing was over in seconds.’ Marie looked at Jackman, and shook her head. ‘I’ve been over and over it in my head, and I still wonder if I could have prevented him getting so badly injured.’

  ‘Sounds like he provoked the attack,’ answered Jackman. ‘Why goad Austin?’

  ‘Apparently it’s pretty standard procedure. A good psychologist can take someone right to the very edge, and ninety-nine point nine times out of a hundred they bring them back safely with the result they need.’

  ‘Well, it didn’t work that time, did it? And you said he was good?’

  ‘He is, sir. He’s brilliant. And he didn’t give up on Austin. He couldn’t be directly involved again but he worked closely with his successor and ensured the correct outcome. Preston only misjudged Austin once, and in fact it was probably the only professional mistake he ever made. But it nearly cost him his life. That’s why he never had plastic surgery. He uses those scars to remind him never to underestimate the people he works with.’

  Jackman nodded. ‘Ah, I did wonder about that.’

  ‘And he never blamed Austin for what happened, only himself.’

  ‘All the same, if it was me, I’d get those scars attended to. I wouldn’t be able to forget something like that. I wouldn’t need reminding.’ He paused. ‘That was a little like what happened to Fred Cox, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Similar. Just proves that you can’t let your guard down for one second.’ Marie remembered the incident Jackman. A detective had been injured during an interview when the man being questioned had smashed his mug on the table and thrust the broken shards into the detective’s face. Luckily, DC Cox had good reflexes and had put his hands up to protect himself, but even so, he had needed an operation, thirty plus stitches and a month off work.

  ‘But it would never have happened if some muppet hadn’t given the prisoner his coffee in one of the canteen mugs.’ The bad guys always got polystyrene or disposable beakers.

  ‘No one could have predicted what Austin did to Preston. Until that point, Austin had always been remarkably unemotional, and sometimes really good-humoured. Most of the team, with the exception of Guy Preston, who always believed that Austin was the killer, were certain we’d got the wrong man. He was not the only suspect, and initially he seemed the least likely be a killer,’ Marie said.

  ‘And afterwards? How did Preston react to your preventing his throat from being perforated?’

  Marie felt a wave of discomfort wash over her. ‘In truth? It was weird. He knew he might have been killed and he was, well, deeply moved, I guess.’ She drew her face into a frown. ‘But it was me who found it most difficult. Terence Marcus Austin admitted that he had fully intended to pierce the carotid artery and he knew exactly where it was located, so his intention had been to kill. So I suppose my actions did save Guy Preston’s life, but for some odd reason, I kind of felt resentment at Guy’s puppy-dog gratitude. I felt an overwhelming responsibility to be nice to him. It was a difficult time.’

  ‘I’ve heard this before. You would expect it to be the other way around, but often it isn’t. I believe it comes from the fact that you’ve stopped a human life being taken, so you feel duty bound to continue to protect it.’ He sat back in his chair and looked pensive. ‘Did it cause any problems?’

  Marie drew in a breath. ‘It would have done, if my husband hadn’t been so understanding. Guy seemed to need to talk about what had happened, and I was the natural one to talk to. A bond had formed between us, whether I liked it or not, and people did comment.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘You know how a load of coppers can gossip.’

  ‘Oh yes. I’m surprised you survived unscathed.’

  ‘Oh, I had to point out one or two home truths, believe me.’

  ‘So what happened? Where did Preston go?’

  ‘He got involved in a new project. The Home Office were setting up a think tank studying the possibilities of profiling in the case of serious crimes. They offered him a two-year research grant. He moved away, and I can’t say that I was upset by his decision. The last I heard he was up north working as an advisor to a specialist unit offering forensic psychological support to major crime enquiries. Hell, I didn’t even know he’d married, let alone lost his wife.’

  Jackman tilted his head slightly to one side. ‘Considering what you’ve just told me, will it be difficult for you to work with him again?’

  Marie grinned and shook her head. ‘Absolutely not, sir. It was a shock to see him again, but all this happened years ago, it’s water under the bridge. He’s a great guy, excuse the pun, and I have no doubt at all about his expertise.’ She lost the smile. ‘Don’t hold that one slip-up against him, sir. He’s what our Max would call the big kahuna. He’ll get to the bottom of why Daniel Kinder is
here and bleating about being a killer, I’m absolutely certain.’

  Jackman leaned back and stretched. ‘Then tonight’s little tête-à-tête could be interesting.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘What time did we ask Skye Wynyard to get here?’

  ‘Six, sir. Maybe we could grab something to eat before the evening session gets under way?’

  Jackman agreed. ‘Go see how Max and Charlie are doing, and if they are willing to stay on for a bit, get them to organise some food for the four of us, okay?’ He pulled out his wallet, handed her thirty pounds and with a pained expression added, ‘And if it could be anything other than pizza, I’d be forever grateful.’

  Marie took it and nodded. ‘I’ll make your feelings known, guv. Oh, sir, I meant to ask, are you going to tell Kinder about the second dead woman?’

  He frowned. ‘We’ll play that one by ear, shall we?’

  As Marie approached her desk, the phone rang from an internal extension. She snapped out her name.

  ‘I thought I’d ring you directly, Sergeant, rather than ring Jackman and be fobbed off — as usual.’ Orac’s voice crackled dryly from the receiver. ‘I have some information that you might find interesting. Have you got ten minutes?’

  ‘Absolutely. I’ll be down right away.’

  * * *

  Orac’s subterranean kingdom was lit only by the light of the display monitors. She sat in her usual place, staring at one of the active screens. Marie wasn’t sure what she was seeing. It appeared to be one moving mass of figures and symbols.

  ‘Although it has nothing to do with the film, it is a matrix.’

  Orac turned to Marie and smiled. ‘Do you know anything about linear combinations of quantum states?’

  Marie smiled back. ‘Ah, my best subject! How did you guess?’

  Orac’s smile broadened. Slightly. ‘I’m studying advanced computer graphics and we use matrices to project a three-dimensional image onto a two-dimensional screen, which gives us a more realistic appearance of motion. The thing about this,’ she pointed to the screen, ‘is that it’s highly addictive. The more you learn, the more you want to understand. Right now I’m well into numerical linear algebra.’