THE MURDERER'S SON a gripping crime thriller full of twists Page 29

  After signing the form, she walked to Jackman’s car, one hand on his shoulder. ‘You’ll need to debrief me, guv. And I’d rather it was sooner than later.’

  ‘Let’s get back and get some strong coffee down you, and then we’ll take it from there, shall we?’

  * * *

  Kevin sat up groggily. At first he was disorientated, unable to understand what had happened or where he was. His head throbbed and he fought back an urge to vomit.

  Slowly it came back to him. He was in the Kinder house. And he shouldn’t be.

  He gingerly touched his forehead and felt the lump. He winced with pain and closed his eyes until it had passed. He thought about his instructions for head injury. Had he been unconscious for long? Had he been sick? Was he bleeding? He didn’t think so, but some light would help. He felt around for his flashlight, but couldn’t locate it. Then he remembered why he was where he was. He’d seen a wall switch.

  Kevin pushed himself up against the wall, and ran his hand along it. Doing this made him dizzy, but after a minute or two he found the switch and the small cellar was suffused with light. He winced and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he finally got a clear picture of where he was.

  He climbed up the step that had caused him to fall, and looked around. There were shelves full of boxes and plastic containers of pool chemicals and cleaners, and a mass of other unwanted items. Folding chairs for the patio leaned against a pile of sacks of barbecue briquettes. Coloured umbrellas, a set of boules and some croquet mallets were heaped together in one corner. Everything was covered in dust and dirt.

  Kevin sank down onto a low barrel-shaped garden table and tried to work out what to do next. He felt terrible. His neck was stiff from the whiplash when his head hit the wall. His teeth ached where they had crashed together, and his head ached horribly. But he had come to do a job, and it would be stupid to bugger off now, when this was the only place left to search.

  With a low groan, he stood up and reluctantly began to tour the room.

  He was halfway round when he saw the blood. It wasn’t much, just a smear. He touched his forehead, then looked at his fingers. They were dry. The skin was inflamed and swollen, but it had not broken.

  He moved closer to the streak of dark, reddish-brown blood staining the lid of a cardboard box. Without thinking, he reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew a pair of protective gloves. He pulled them on, then carefully opened the box.

  The metallic stink of old blood hit him immediately. The box, which had once contained packets of crisps, was jammed with bloodied clothing. He lifted a piece of fabric between his thumb and forefinger and saw that it was a red checked shirt. Beneath it nestled a pair of stained stone-coloured chinos, a black T-shirt and some other items.

  Kevin took a deep breath. Now what the hell was he supposed to do? Part of him had doubted that it would ever come to this, and now it had, he felt a cold emptiness. He wouldn’t get away with another anonymous call, and this was vital evidence.

  With a sigh, he decided there was only one person that he could think of who might be able to help him. He carefully replaced the lid of the box, then sat back on the old table and pulled his phone from his pocket. He switched it on, leaned back against the wall of the cellar and watched as it began to search for a signal. Kevin moved slightly — a water pipe was pushing uncomfortably into his shoulder blade — then he sat bolt upright and listened.

  Voices? He tilted his head to one side, then moved his ear closer to the pipe.

  Through the thundering of his headache, he heard whispered voices echoing from somewhere upstairs, and to his dismay, Kevin realised that he was not alone in the house. If this was another team of police officers, he was well in the shit, but if it happened to be the owner of those bloodstained clothes, then he could be in for something far nastier.

  Bitterly regretting that he’d ever left home in the first place, he decided to make his way back out into the garden and see if the crew on watch were doing a routine walk around the premises. Then, whatever happened, he’d scarper back to the safety of the bus shelter and make his call.

  His head thumped with every step, but soon he was back out on the patio and breathing in fresh night air. All around him was calm. There were no lights on in the house and no policemen trampled through the undergrowth of the neglected garden. He edged around the side of the building and saw the police car, still stationary and still containing two bored officers.

  So who was in the house?

  He stared up at the dark windows and shivered. He wouldn’t wait to get back out onto the road to make his call, but he would get far enough away from the house so as not to be heard talking.

  Forgetting his pain, Kevin ran back into the shrubs, vaulted over the boundary fence, and dropped down into a crouching position. He opened his phone and to his relief saw that he had a strong signal. ‘Come on! Come on! Pick up!’ he whispered. Adding to himself, Because for some reason, I’m scared. I’m really scared.

  * * *

  As Jackman drove back to the station, he saw that Marie was beginning to relax. She was the toughest woman he knew, and already she was starting to show signs of the old Marie.

  Max and Charlie sat in the back, and their constant banter and gallows humour helped to ease the tension.

  Jackman was just telling them about his call from Skye, when Max’s mobile gave out his latest ringtone — a police siren.

  ‘I wish you’d change that,’ muttered Jackman. ‘We hear enough of them as it is.’

  ‘I preferred the reggae version of Any Old Iron,’ added Marie.

  Whoever was calling Max took some while to get their message across, and after a few grunts and murmurs of agreement, Max finally said, ‘Right, mate, now listen, you hang on in there. I’m with the guvnor right now, and we’ll be with you in five, okay?’ Max shut off his phone and touched Jackman’s shoulder. ‘Guv? We need to get to the Kinder house. Someone is inside, but there are no lights on, and they are there without the knowledge of the crews on observation outside.’

  Jackman immediately slowed down. ‘Who was that on the phone?’

  Max drew in a quick breath then said, ‘PC Kevin Stoner, sir. He was following up a hunch, even though he’s suspended at present.’

  ‘What the hell is he thinking? Bloody idiot!’

  ‘He’s a good bloke, sir. He’ll explain when we get there.’

  ‘Why not just get the crew outside to go in and do a recce? For heaven’s sake, it’s most likely Daniel. And I have feeling that Skye will have already told him that he’s no murderer, so he’s probably just gone home to try to get his head back together.’ Jackman’s words had no conviction in them. ‘No lights on? And getting in without the police officers seeing him? Very iffy.’

  ‘It’s complicated,’ said Max. ‘But if the sarge is up for it, Kevin trusts you, and he’s sure something is wrong.’

  Jackman glanced at Marie.

  ‘Let’s go,’ she said instantly. ‘I could do with something to take my mind off recent events. Just do it.’

  Jackman swung the car into a U-turn and accelerated back down the main road towards the river. ‘Okay, Max. I gather you’d like a softly-softly approach?’

  ‘Kevin Stoner will be in big trouble if the whole station knows what he’s been up to. He’s been hiding in a neighbour’s garden, but he’s going to make his way to a bus shelter at the road junction. He’ll meet us there.’

  ‘Okay. We’ll hear what he has to say, then alert the officers on observation and we’ll go check the house.’ He looked at Marie. ‘I’m still not too sure about you. Those medics wanted you hospitalised, not out searching for intruders.’

  Marie gave him a smug smile. ‘Remember what you said about never winning an argument with me?’

  ‘Yes, but . . .’

  ‘I’d forget it, guv,’ said Max from the back. ‘I suspect you’re on a loser.’

  ‘He’s right. Just drive,’ chipped in Marie. ‘I’ve also
got an odd feeling about this.’

  They parked in the main road and walked to where Kevin waited in the shadows.

  ‘This had better be good, Stoner,’ growled Jackman. ‘What the hell are you doing here? And how did you get that damned great bump on your head?’

  ‘The head’s nothing, sir. You see, when I was at home, I got to thinking about what some of the guys said about Daniel Kinder. That maybe he was on scene when they raided the house to catch Drew Wilson and his gang.’ The words tumbled from the young officer’s mouth. ‘Then I wondered, if they were right, what was he doing there? After all, he was supposed to have taken sleeping pills at Skye Wynyard’s place and been out of it, wasn’t he?’

  Max nodded. ‘That’s what he told the officers who called to tell him about the break-in.’

  ‘So either he lied, or he was having one of his turns,’ added Charlie.

  ‘And if he lied, why? What was he up to here?’ Marie stared down the road towards the Kinder property.

  ‘That’s what I thought, Sarge,’ said Kevin. ‘And although I know the house would have been searched when you were looking for Kinder, I thought I’d sneak over and take a really good look in the outbuildings and see if he’d been hiding something.’

  ‘Like what?’ Jackman asked.

  Kevin stared earnestly at him. ‘What would a possible killer hide? I reckoned either a weapon or bloodstained clothing.’

  ‘But he’s not the killer,’ said Jackman softly. ‘Only you wouldn’t know that, Stoner. We have our killer. He was . . .’ he hesitated, ‘He was discovered and apprehended a few hours ago by Sergeant Evans here. That’s why I’m not rushing into that house with all guns blazing. Daniel’s not our murderer.’

  Kevin’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. ‘But . . . but I found bloodstained clothes, sir. There’s a whole box of them, in a small cellar beneath the hot-tub room.’ He heaved in a breath. ‘And I heard whispering echoing down the water-pipe system from upstairs. Someone is definitely in there, sir. And on reflection, I think the alarm system is turned off.’

  ‘Then we’d better check it out.’ Jackman looked thoughtfully at the young constable. ‘Go home, Stoner. You’re in enough trouble. I’ll tell the crew outside that we’ve had a call from someone about seeing a possible intruder.’ He sighed. ‘But you and I need to have a long talk at a later date, young man. And by the way, get that head looked at. You could have a concussion. Now go.’

  Kevin Stoner threw him a relieved smile. ‘Thank you, sir. I can’t tell you how much I appreci—’

  Jackman cut him off. ‘Sod off, Stoner. We’ve got work to do.’

  Kevin Stoner turned, and with a nod of silent thanks to Max, hurried away into the night.

  * * *

  Daniel sat on the floor of the attic and stared silently at the long-bladed kitchen knife that was laid across his lap.

  Across from him, sitting cross-legged and leaning against the far wall, was Skye. She had no idea of how long they had been there, but it seemed a very long time.

  They had made their way into the house by going across neighbour’s gardens and slipping in the unwatched back door. The ascent up the stairs to the attic room in the pitch-black darkness had made Skye’s heart race, but they hadn’t dared to put a light on or use a torch for fear of attracting the attention of the occupants of the police car.

  Daniel had not spoken since they’d arrived at his home, and Skye knew that she needed to be cleverer than she had ever been, in order to keep her darling, damaged Daniel from doing something that he would bitterly regret.

  Somehow she found the courage to speak, and prayed that she had chosen the right words. ‘I’ve spoken to Ruby. She is on her way home to be with you, Daniel, but she has told me something very important, and she wants me to explain it to you.’

  His silence could have meant anything, so she pressed on. ‘She knows all about your birth mother, Daniel, and it isn’t Françoise Thayer.’

  In the shadowy gloom of the attic room, she saw Daniel flinch. Then she heard him give a throaty chuckle, and it made her shiver.

  ‘They’ve told you to say that, haven’t they? The police: they’ve told you to convince me that it’s all in my head.’ Again that sinister laugh, then he said, ‘I knew they would. They are so predictable.’

  ‘The only person who has asked me to talk to you is Ruby. And she wouldn’t lie to you.’ Skye took a harder tone. ‘The police told me to stay well away from you, Daniel. They don’t want me talking to you at all.’

  ‘Maybe they are right.’ His finger slid slowly along the blade of the knife. ‘Maybe you should have listened to them, Skye.’

  ‘You have to know the truth. And I want to be the one to tell you about your childhood,’ she drew in a long breath, ‘because it isn’t very pleasant.’

  ‘You’re wasting your time, my darling.’ Daniel let out a long sigh. ‘Because Guy Preston told me everything I need to know. I have the same condition as her, as my mother, Françoise Thayer. And it runs in the blood.’ He gave a sharp bark of laughter, ‘Quite literally.’ His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. ‘And I also have the same propensity to kill. He said he will try to help me, but we all know it’s too late. It certainly is for those three women, and maybe for you.’

  ‘Françoise Thayer is not your mother!’ Skye shouted at him. Your mother’s name was Lucy Carrick and she was a murderer too, if you must know. She killed your two brothers and tried to kill you too!’

  There, it was finally out. No kind and careful consideration as she had planned, the information was simply screamed at him. And now she was in full flow, she couldn’t stop, ‘That’s why you have gaps in your memory. That’s why you are a mess, Daniel. She locked you in car full of carbon monoxide! You nearly died, and afterwards you were sick for years. Ask Ruby! Ask her! She’ll tell you the whole sad story.’

  Skye suddenly felt as if all the air had gone from her body, as if she had nothing left to give.

  ‘You’re lying. You have to be.’ Daniel gripped the knife with both hands and rocked back and forth. ‘You have to be.’

  Skye wanted to shake him, and she wanted to hug him too, but most of all she wanted to cry. And so she did. She didn’t know what he was going to do, and at that point, she didn’t really care. It was out of her hands.

  * * *

  Jackman gave the observation crew the briefest of reasons why a whole team of detectives had turned up on their patch for a simple intruder query. But to his relief they didn’t question it. They hadn’t been told to stand down yet, so as far as they were concerned, there was still a serial killer loose. Half the Fenland Constabulary could have arrived and it wouldn’t have worried them.

  ‘You have a key?’ asked Jackman.

  ‘Yes, sir. We’ve been doing a check every couple of hours. And this is the security alarm code.’ He handed Jackman a sheet of paper.

  ‘Right, so you two cover the back. One of you take the rear kitchen door, and the other take the garden room. The four of us will go in from the front. And eyes peeled, lads.’

  Stoner had been right. The alarm had been deactivated. And that worried Jackman. One look at his team told him that they had all come to the same conclusion: someone had been, or still was, in the Kinder house.

  They slipped silently through the house, entering room after room, and whispering, ‘clear,’ as they left the empty rooms.

  As they completed their check of the bedrooms, Marie took his arm and murmured, ‘It all started up there, didn’t it?’ She pointed to the stairs to the attic.

  ‘And will it all finish there, do you think?’

  ‘One way to find out, I guess.’ Marie stepped forward onto the first stair, but Jackman held her back.

  ‘Not this time.’ He moved around her and headed up towards the attic room.

  The door was not locked. It opened easily and swung back with barely a sound.

  In the pale moonlight that shone through the dormer window, th
ey saw Daniel Kinder sitting with his back against the wall that had once been decorated like a shrine to Françoise Thayer. Skye lay still in his embrace.

  Her arms were wrapped around him and her head nestled into his shoulder. A wicked long-bladed knife lay in front of them, and Jackman noted a disturbing dark patch of something wet spreading across the floor.

  ‘Hello,’ Daniel’s voice was soft. He smiled wanly at them, ‘Skye has just been telling me a story.’

  ‘And it’s a true story, Daniel. I heard what Ruby told her.’ Jackman tried to keep his voice steady although he didn’t like the strange distant quality of Daniel’s voice.

  ‘It’s alright, Inspector.’ Skye sat up, but didn’t for one second release her hold on Daniel. ‘Daniel knows everything now. He’s just trying to take it all in. It’s been a terrible shock, and his arm seems to be bleeding. I think we might need some medical attention for him.’ Without changing her tone of voice, she threw an anxious look at Marie, ‘But there is something you really need to know about Guy Preston.’

  Marie swallowed hard, and her expression said that there was little that she didn’t know about that man. ‘Preston is dead, Skye. And he was responsible for the deaths of those three women.’

  Daniel gave a shudder. ‘Then I didn’t hurt them?’ His voice rose higher, ‘But Guy told me . . .’ His voice tailed off into silence.

  ‘Guy Preston was setting you up to take the blame, Daniel,’ Jackman said gently. ‘You never hurt anyone.’

  ‘I believed him.’ Daniel suddenly let out a sob, then his whole body began to shake and tears cascaded down his face. ‘I believed him.’

  ‘A common mistake, so it seems,’ muttered Marie. ‘And I can say that from being in the unenviable position of being the next victim on his list.’

  Jackman instructed Max to get the medics, then slipped on some gloves and knelt down and retrieved the knife. He still didn’t totally trust Daniel Kinder around sharp objects.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Marie had made a list of people to contact. She liked things tidy and made a point of spending the last few days on an investigation cleaning up loose ends.