A/NL: Yes, I know British cops don't carry guns. (But they do on "Touching Evil"! whines) Consider it a huge stroke of artistic license.
--
"So where to first?" Carol asked as they turned off the motorway and watched as the sparse scattering of suburbs drew closer and closer together, creating and shaping the city of Sutherland. "First murder?"
"Yeah," Tony answered. "It's the only anomaly in the chain of murders. I'd like to find out why."
"Okay."
After two stops to ask for directions, they finally pulled down a long residential street.
"Park here," he instructed.
Following his direction, she pulled into the vacant spot and turned off the engine. The victim's flat, five doors down, could be clearly seen from their vantage point. Tony looked around, acclimatizing himself with to the surroundings. Finding some kind of satisfaction that Carol couldn't identify, he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. She followed suit and watched him look around again. Then he began walking down the pavement towards the flat. Carol quietly fell in step behind him, allowing him this moment of meditation and at the end of the path that led up to the door, Tony stopped and waited for Carol her. They walked together and she rang the bell. A young man, somewhere in his mid-twenties answered the door. If the mussed hair and gaunt face was any indication, he hadn't slept for days.
"Yes?" He asked tersely.
Carol flashed her I.D . "I'm DCI Carol Jordan. I was wondering if we could have a word?"
Tony began to wander away, towards a nearby window.
The young man jerked his head in Tony's direction. "Who's he?"
"My partner," Carol replied, somewhat comfortable that it wasn't an outright lie.
As if hearing his name called, Tony turned to the pair. Pointing to the window, he asked, "May I?"
Puzzled, the man shrugged and said, "Whatever."
"Can I come in, Mr…" Carol asked.
"Saunders. Dave Saunders. I'm Brenda's boyfriend." He choked up slightly. "I mean, I was." Realizing Carol's request, he stepped back. "Come in. Though I don't know what you hope to find. Your other colleagues went through here with a fine-tooth comb. Found nothing," he added bitterly.
"Tony," she said as she began to enter the flat. Seeing his intent focus, she knew well enough not to bother calling his name again. His mind was in a place she now recognized all too well. It was an ability he had that both amazed her and unsettled her.
Entering the flat, she soon realized what Saunders had meant by finding nothing. Boxes of various sizes were neatly stacked and labeled against walls in every room in her field of view.
"Brenda's things," Saunders explained. "I'm sending them to her mum. I didn't know what else to do with them. I didn't want to get rid of them, but I couldn't imagine keeping them, either. Too much of a reminder…" he trailed away sadly.
Carol touched his arm. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Saunders." When he nodded his thanks, she asked, "Mind if I look around?"
"Go ahead."
Outside, Tony was still standing in the same spot Carol had last seen him. He noted the tree and how it partially blocked the view from the street.
"That was convenient, wasn't it, Jacob?" he whispered. In Tony's mind, the sky was dark, and the streetlight filtered through the obstructing tree like tiny pieces of mirror. The slight breeze cooled the thin veil of sweat on his brow. He stood close to the window and looked in. The room was bare except for a few boxes stacked in the corner, but Tony envisioned it as it must have been that night –a dark room, the headboard of the bed touching the wall, but the bed accessible from both sides. A small table and with a lamp to one side. A wardrobe in the corner. He slowly slid the window up and, with little difficulty, lifted himself onto the ledge. It only took the quiet swing of his right leg over the sill, and he was in. It was silent. Nothing except the peaceful inhalation and exhalations of the sleeping form on the bed overlaid with the excited thump of his own heart: he wondered if it would wake her. Standing beside the bed, it seemed so easy, because it was. Just lean over and cover her mouth…
--
Carol was hoping Tony was having better luck because, so far, she was having none. Then she walked into the utility room.
"Mr. Saunders," she called out.
He was at her side almost immediately. "Yeah?"
She pointed to the long white freezer. "When did you get that?"
"The day before Brenda was… died," he answered. "I told her it was too big; what in the world would she do with it, you know? But she liked to stock up on things. I always joked we could open a store if there was ever some kind of disaster." He couldn't help but smile. "Anyway," he went on, "the damn thing is broken. We thought the delivery guys hit one of the coils on the back when they brought it in. I've been meaning to call them back, but…" his voice grew soft again.
"Do you remember the name of the delivery company?"
The boyfriend squinted. "I don't know. A bird in the name. I've got the bill somewhere; if it's important, I can see if I can find it."
Carol tried not to look too hopeful. "Yes, please, if you could. I'm going to go find my partner."
--
She stood in the doorway but didn't speak. Tony was standing in the middle of the bedroom, looking down at some vacant point on the floor. She wondered what he was thinking.
"In the right frame of mind, I am the killer."
"Jesus!" she exclaimed, startled by his voice.
He turned and showed a ghost of a smile. "No."
Content that her heart was beating again, she smirked. "I'll say. Go on."
"At some point in almost every case, there's a time when everything is clear."
"Like an epiphany?"
"I don't know. I do know that for a brief moment, I can step into the killer's shoes." He caught Carol's look and it took him a minute before he realized the source of her amusement. "I didn't wank outside the window, if that's what you're getting at!"
Despite the dismal surroundings, they both smiled, the tension relieved.
"I've got something on that freezer dilemma we had," she told him.
"And?"
"And, there is a freezer of sufficient size here. Delivered the day before the murder. The kicker is, it must have been damaged during delivery. It's still sitting in the utility room; the boyfriend hasn't had a chance to call them back."
"Ah," he said in realization, "it wasn't working when Jacob came back."
"You got it," Carol replied.
Saunders stepped into the doorway. Barely glancing into the room, he handed Carol a slip of paper.
"Crane Delivery," he said. "That's who delivered the freezer."
Carol gently took it out of his outstretched hand. "Thank you."
Both she and Tony respectfully left the room so that Saunders didn't have to face it. He closed the door softly and turned away from it.
"Sorry," he apologized, "but I can hardly stand it, you know?"
"Perfectly understandable," Tony replied.
The young man leaned against the door and looked down at his feet. "The day… it happened, it was absolute madness here; police everywhere, asking me a hundred questions. Where was I the night before? Had we fought? How did I find her?" He paused, remembering. "I thought she was running late, so I came in and put the kettle on. I opened the fridge to get the milk and saw all the frozen foods on the bottom shelf. It didn't make sense. Why would Brenda do that?" He stopped talking again. Inhaling a shaky breath, he continued, "I opened the freezer to see what was wrong." He made a face between anger and grief. "I threw up on the floor. And I just stood there. It felt like hours. Then, I don't know how, but somehow I called the police. They found the mess and… in the bathroom."
Carol had read the file. She knew the bathroom was where the dismemberment took place. She also knew that not all of the body had fit in the freezer; police found the rest in the bath.
"I was angry that the police were here," Saunders went on. "I didn't care who did it, I just wanted them gone. It was like some horrible dream. I kept thinking I was going to wake up at any minute. Of course, I didn't." He looked at them with an empty smile. "Now all I want is some kind of closure, and the police are nowhere to be found."
"We're here," Carol promised, "and we will not let this go away until the person who did this is brought to justice."
"Justice," he repeated in a hollow voice. "But in the end, what amount of justice will bring Brenda back, I wonder?"
"None," Tony answered truthfully, "but it will bring you your closure."
"I hope so." He pushed himself away from the door. "Listen, I've got to get back to things or I'll never be able to do it. I wrote my phone number on the back of that paper, Ms. Jordan. If you find out anything…"
Carol nodded. "I will definitely call you."
"Thanks."
--
"What now?" Tony asked when they got back to the car.
Carol propped her elbow on the window ledge and rested her fingers against her forehead. "I suppose I've got to call DCI Samuels now. Tell him to meet us at the delivery place." She picked up her phone reluctantly.
"Should be interesting, explaining how we came across that information before contacting him the minute we set foot in Sutherland," Tony remarked.
She didn't bother to look at him. "I hate your logical mind sometimes, you know that?"
--
She hung up the phone. "Well, that went better than I expected," she said. "Both my eardrums are still intact."
"Barely," Tony replied, tapping his own ear as if checking to see if it worked.
"DCI Samuels" were probably the only words he'd spoken at a tolerable level. As Carol brought him up to speed on what they had found, his voice became louder and louder until it literally cracked when he bellowed, "You went to the victim's house?!"
"Yes," Carol answered, holding the phone away from her ear.
"Without my authority?"
She understood his irritation. Had the roles been reversed, she was sure she'd be none too pleased to have another officer coming into her city. However, she had had just about enough of his blustering. "Listen. Number one, I don't need your authority. Number two," she continued over his objection, "if it wasn't for the work of my department, you wouldn't be this far. And number three, I'm going with or without you. Your choice." And disconnected the call.
"That noise you hear is DCI Samuels head exploding," Tony remarked.
"Tough shit," Carol retorted, and turned the ignition. "And he bloody well better be there when we show up." The wheels gave a slight squeal of protest as she peeled out of the parking spot.
"I'll just sit quietly here in the corner," Tony meekly informed.
A smile played at the corner of her mouth. "You do that."
--
Fifteen minutes later they turned into the industrial estate of Crane Delivery, housed in a large unit set back from the road. The imposing figure of DCI Samuels leaning against his car greeted them as they pulled up to the building.
Tony looked over to Carol. "Will you get in hot water over this?"
She exhaled unhappily. "Who knows? We were told to work together, so it's probably all good with the higher ups if we solve this one. I'll doubt I'll ever be welcome in Sutherland again, though."
Tony's mouth turned downward. "Well, from what I've seen, you won't be missing much."
She smiled. "Thank you."
"What for?"
"Do I need a reason?" Before he could answer, she undid her seatbelt and got out of the car. Leaning back in, she asked, "You coming?"
"Oh," he answered, surprised.
"If I'm no longer welcome in Sutherland, then neither should you be," she quipped.
As soon as they were within arms' reach, Carol held out her hand. "DCI Samuels, I'm DCI Carol Jordan."
He glanced down at her proffered hand and looked for a moment as if he'd rebuff the invitation. "DCI Jordan," he said, shaking her hand unenthusiastically.
She gestured to Tony. "This is Tony Hill. He discovered the German connection."
Samuels greeting to Tony was as equally uninspired as his welcome to Carol. "Oh yes? That's fantastic," he said blandly. "You two go around the back; I'll take the front."
Carol looked around. "Where's your back-up?"
His gaze went lazily from Carol, to Tony, and back to Carol again. "Where's yours?"
Very wisely, Tony took hold of Carol's arm. "Let's go," he whispered.
"Ignorant bastard," she muttered as they made their way to the back of the building.
As they turned the corner, the area opened up to reveal a hive of activity. Where the purpose of the front of the building was for customer service, it was the back where things got done. The door of a large warehouse was open like a gigantic garage, and several trucks were lined up at its entrance. Men of various sizes milled about or were helping to transfer cardboard boxes from the warehouse to the trucks. Pictures and labels identified the contents as ovens, washing machines, refrigerators, or freezers.
"We're definitely in the right place," Carol remarked.
A burly man in overalls that had seen better days approached. A patch bearing the name "Tim" was helpfully stitched above his left breast pocket.
"Hello. I'm afraid you're not supposed to be back here," he said. "Is there something I can do for you?"
Carol went to reach for her I.D., but was stopped by Tony's hand on her arm.
"Me and the missus had a freezer delivered the other day. The two men who delivered it were extremely helpful. As you can imagine, I wasn't much use."
The man gave Tony the once-over and snorted his agreement.
"Anyway, we didn't get the chance to properly thank them." Tony reached back for his wallet.
"That's not necessary," Tim replied.
Tony leaned forward conspiratorially. "The missus insists. You know how they are."
The other man nodded. "Don't I know it. Married for thirty years. What was the name of the delivery men?"
Frowning, Tony turned to Carol. "Sweetheart, what was the name of that delivery man? John? Jim?"
She went along with his ruse. "Jack?"
Tim's eyes lit up. "Jacob?"
In unison, Carol and Tony turned to agree. Tony snapped his fingers. "That's it; Jacob. I don't remember the other bloke."
"Andy," Tim answered. "They always work together." He squinted around. "There's your man," he pointed. "Sitting on that stack of boxes, eating his lunch."
"Thanks, Tim," Carol replied.
They walked casually in Jacob's direction, careful not to draw attention. The killer sat unassumingly on his perch, absently eating a sandwich and flipping through the newspaper. Tony and Carol's approach must have caught the corner of his peripheral vision, because he turned his head to greet them with a neutral reception.
--
It wasn't the blonde's expression that registered with him; it was the dark-haired man. His intensely blue eyes, though soft around the edges, were hard in the center and he pinned him with a penetrating gaze. At that moment, he knew it was all over; it was only a question of how the end would play out.
--
DCI Samuels chose that moment to announce his arrival. Having come through the front and found nothing, he had worked his way through the office to the back of the building. He came out just in time to see the scene unfolding between Carol, Tony and Jacob. Drawing his gun, he identified himself. "Jacob Blakemore! Police! Don't move!"
Tony closed his eyes in disbelief. "Stupid." By the time he opened his eyes again, Jacob was long gone.
"Shit!" Carol shouted and tore a strip off Samuels with a look.
"It's my mark," Samuels huffed. "My backyard, my case. My mark." He bolted in Blakemore's direction, not caring whether or not Carol was behind him.
"Shit," she said again, but this time in a whisper. She unholstered her gun and looked over at Tony. "You stay right here, do you understand? Right here." Receiving an acknowledgment of her order, she took off after Samuels.
--
His knowledge of the warehouse served him well. That stupid cop was probably lost by now. He thought of the man who had frozen him with a look. Didn't look like a cop by any stretch of the imagination. But by the expression on his face when the cop pulled his gun, he knew what was going on. Now, the blonde bird, definitely a cop.
So now what? It wasn't supposed to end like this –he wasn't finished. One to tie, two to win, one to tie, two to win. He wouldn't let Jeff have the satisfaction, thinking he had bested his little brother. A sudden noise caught his attention, and he looked down from his hideaway high among the surplus of boxes and crates. It was that stupid cop. He knew what he had to do.
--
He heard the sound, but before DCI Samuels could so anything, it was already too late. The large, heavy, boxed oven hit his shoulder, felling him like a tree. He heard his gun clatter to the ground, but his only thought was the pain. Blinding, blinding pain as the crate pinned his legs to the floor. He was too scared to even venture a look at his arm. Numb, all he could do was look up. Hovering over him, a good thirty feet up, was the grinning face of Jacob Blakemore. His mind registered the killer's quick descent down the cardboard mountain, and watched helplessly as he jumped to the floor and picked up the gun. He was screaming in his head, but nothing was coming out. The only words he heard belonged to the man who would end his life.
"Do you know who you are?" Jacob asked. "You're number twenty-six."
--
Tony heard the shot and nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Carol!" he shouted, but got no response. "Carol!" he yelled again, fear creeping into his voice.
Several men ran out of the warehouse, and several more gathered around, about thirty feet from the entrance.
"What the hell was that?" one asked.
Tony looked around for a familiar face and found it. "Tim!" When he stepped forward, Tony told him, "Call the police and don't let anyone go back into the warehouse, right?"
The older man nodded dutifully. "Will do." He waved to a nearby co-worker. "Ian, call the cops." As Tony jogged into the warehouse, Tim yelled, "Oi! Where are you going?"
--
'It's a bloody labyrinth,' Carol sighed as she weaved her way through the maze of containers. They were set up in some sort of system, she was sure, though she'd be damned if she could figure it out. When she had double-backed on herself twice, she took to marking the boxes with her pen. That seemed to be narrowing down the possible routes.
Then she heard the crash, and then the gun shot. She closed her eyes and focussed on the sound. 'To the left and about fifty feet away,' she deduced. She looked around and figured that, under the circumstances, fifty feet might as well be fifty yards.
--
He looked down at
the lifeless body and tried to gauge the reactions of his own.
He had never shot anyone before, and never killed a man. He was
worried it wouldn't be the same, but he was surprised to discover the
same shot of adrenaline coursed through his body. Looking down
at the tent in his pants, he couldn't help but laugh quietly.
'Not now, you silly bastard,' he chastised himself. He willed
his body under control. 'Relax, relax, relax,' he chanted in a
whisper. He took a few deep breaths then bent down.
Fulfilling one last conceit, he slid the tip of his index finger
through the cop's blood and scrawled 'E-26, G-26' on the side of the
very box that had stopped the cop dead in his tracks. He smiled
at the pun and softly slipped away.
--
Tony was just about ready to scream with frustration when he came around the corner and saw Samuels on the cement floor. Steeling himself, he walked closer to inspect the body.
'Well, that accounts for the gun shot,' he thought to himself, when he saw the wound in Samuels' forehead. Try as he might, he couldn't help but feel relief that it wasn't Carol. One shot, one wound. That meant Carol was still alive.
Glancing around, he saw the updated scorecard on the box. A closer look around revealed the partial outline of bloody footprints that seemed to circle back towards him. He was just about to turn around and follow them when he felt a warm forearm snake around his throat and a cold gun press against his temple.
"Who are you?"
"Tony."
"That's nice, Tony. Now, who are you?"
"I'm a psychologist."
"They sent a head doctor after me?" Jacob laughed. "Fantastic. Who's the blonde with you?"
Tony remained silent.
Pressing the gun tighter against Tony's head, he repeated, "Who is she? Cop?" When there was still no response from Tony, Jacob said, "That's okay. I'll take your silence as a 'yes'." He shifted their position until he had his back against a tower of boxes and a clear view of the small inlet of space. "Well, let's get this over with, shall we? Call her name."
"I'm afraid I can't do that."
"Don't be thick. Call her name or I'll shoot you."
Keeping his voice low, Tony responded, "You'll shoot me anyway. And if you shoot me, you lose the element of surprise and the hostage."
"Bloody hell, you are a head doctor," Jacob chuckled. He turned his head away from Tony and called out, "Lady cop! I've got your Tony. If you're smart enough to follow my voice, I want you to show yourself. Slowly, and with no weapon. I'll count to ten and then Mr. Tony gets it."
There was no response, so Jacob began counting.
"One."
"Two."
"Three."
"Four."
He called out a bit louder, impatient.
"Five!"
"Six!"
"I'm here," Carol's voice said.
"Where?"
She slowly came out from behind a stack of boxes. Her gun was held level, and aimed directly at Jacob.
"What's your name?" he asked her.
"Carol."
He twisted to look at Tony. "See? That wasn't so hard." Looking back to her, he said, "Carol. Put down your gun."
She hesitated and Tony blurted, "Don't do it, Carol. He's killed Samuels. He'll kill me, then he'll kill you."
The muzzle pressed harder into his temple. "I'm going to kill you anyway," Jacob promised.
"And before I hit the floor, she'll kill you."
"Tony, shut up," Carol said.
"Yeah Tony, shut up."
"What would Jeff say, I wonder?" Tony mused.
"What?"
"Well, he had the good sense not to be so stupid as to get himself killed."
Jacob leaned into Tony's ear. "I'm not dead yet."
"But you will be."
"Enough!" Jacob yelled. "Put down the gun, or I'll shoot him."
"But you said you were going to kill me anyway."
Both Carol and Jacob shouted, "Shut up!"
Considering the situation, Tony looked rather unaffected by their reaction.
Impatient, Jacob pointed the gun at Carol. "Maybe I should just kill you, since you have the weapon." The click of the hammer being pulled back reverberated in Tony's ear.
And then all was silent.
He was aware of the weight of Jacob's body leaning into his back and they both toppled forward. Tony felt his arms brace the impact, and the hard floor bruise his knees. The cement was cool and smooth against his cheek as he waited for the life to seep out of him.
Then, just as abruptly as it had left, sound returned, just as if he had raised his head out of water.
"Tony. Tony!" came Carol's anxious voice.
The weight was lifted and her hands were on his shoulders, turning him over. She cupped his face in her hands and said again, "Tony."
"Carol," he replied simply.
He blinked several times, as if trying to figure out what had just happened. Turning his head, he saw the lifeless form of Jacob Blakemore beside him; his empty eyes staring blankly into oblivion. He had an ugly gaping wound through his shattered cheekbone.
"You shot at me!" Tony exclaimed.
She curled her hand behind his head and helped him sit up. "I shot in your direction. And I told you to stay where you were!" she rebutted. More softly, she said, "Anyway, you told me to shoot him."
"Jesus Christ!"
"What?" she asked, smiling, though the slight tremble in her hands told the real story. "I was waiting for you to bloody well shut up."
He stared into her eyes, taking it all in. "Don't ever do that again," he ordered. She tilted her head questioningly. "Don't ever risk your life for mine. Ever."
"Stop talking nonsense. Neither one of us can say with any certainty how it might have played out. If he had been smart, he would have shot me first."
"Don't."
"Well, just making an observation, Dr. Hill." She helped him stand up, and they stood, only inches apart, for several moments. As last, she said, "Besides, I'm going to have to explain to John Brandon how a civilian –namely you –ended up in the middle of a stand-off involving guns. And if I'm going to be called to the carpet, you're damn well going to be there with me. So, I need you alive." Tony frowned, and she gently patted his cheek. "Live and learn."
--
Tony came out of the office and patted his arms and his legs, as if searching for a set of keys. "Are all my limbs still attached?" he wondered aloud.
Carol had stopped to see what he was up to, and when she realized his joke, she shook her head sternly. "Not funny."
"Not funny? You were the one giggling in there," he accused.
Moments ago, as they stood repentently in front of John Brandon, Tony quickly realized that "called to the carpet" was Carol's polite way of saying, "getting a boot up the arse". He swore he felt his hair breeze back from Brandon's verbal assault.
"One dead criminal and one dead cop. Is that your idea of balancing the scales, Carol?" Brandon bellowed.
She knew it was rhetorical, but thought it best she answer anyway. "No, sir, I…"
"Well, I should hope not!" he cut off. "Not only do I have to explain how one of Bradfield's own ended up in the middle of a Sutherland fiasco, but I have to explain how one of theirs ended up dead and you didn't."
"Thank you for your concern, sir," Carol replied flatly.
"Don't push it, DCI Jordan," he warned punctuating the statement with a hard stare.
"Yes, sir."
Tony decided to speak up. "I take full…"
The hard stare swung in his direction. "Oh, I haven't forgotten about you, Dr. Hill. Unfortunately, right now I'm too busy trying to wade through Carol's involvement to even attempt to get into the reasoning behind yours."
"Yes, sir," Tony replied meekly, despite the fact that Brandon wasn't even his boss.
Carol did everything she could to suppress her smile.
The sharp eyes of Brandon caught her attempt. "Am I missing the joke?"
"No, sir, there's no joke."
"There certainly isn't." Sitting down, he glared up at them. "I expect a full, and lengthy report from both of you, on my desk, by morning."
"Yes, sir," they answered in unison.
They took Brandon's silence as their dismissal. The minute they turned to leave, Tony could see Carol's lips pressing hard together as she fought her impulse to laugh out loud. He looked away quickly, in order to retain his own self-control.
"By the way," Brandon said, stopping them in their tracks, "I received a phone call today from Bradfield Prison. Jeff Gibbons committed suicide in his cell approximately two hours ago."
That was enough to remind them of the severity of the situation, and they left the office with their heads low.
"Did you see the suicide coming?" she asked Tony, when they were alone in the corridor.
He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet. "I wouldn't have predicted it," he admitted, "but I can't say I'm surprised. Remember what Gibbons told us- whatever Jacob felt, Jeff believed he felt it, too."
Carol raised her eyebrows. "You don't really believe that, do you? That they had some sort of psychic connection."
"It's not what I believe; it's what Jeff Gibbons believed. Gibbons said when he met his brother, it was like he was a whole person for the first time in his life. Of course, maybe a guard or someone on the inside somehow found out about Jacob's death and passed it on. Maybe when he found out Jacob was dead he didn't see reason to continue living as half a person. Or maybe, just maybe, there are things still left unknown about the human psyche."
"Things you don't know about?" she remarked wryly. "Colour me surprised."
"You were right, Carol." He gave it sufficient pause before adding, "Not funny."
"So," she said, "what's next? Should I come over after work? We could compare notes, make sure our reports pass Brandon's inspection. You are the professor amongst us, after all."
"I don't know, Carol," he replied. "After work? I was thinking of cleaning my kitchen."
"Oh, all right," she volleyed back. "I'll see you in the morning then, when you leave your report with Brandon."
Clearly, this was not the response Tony was looking for. Barely hiding his disappointment, he said, "So you won't be coming over, then?"
She winked. "I thought I'd try my hand at reverse psychology; I'm surprised it worked."
Tony's eyes widened in amazement. "You tried it on a psychologist?" He replayed the exchange in his head and admitted admirably, "Well done."
"I'm learning from the best."
He smiled his thanks, and as they walked down the corridor, shoulder to shoulder, they were silent, content in their thoughts, content in each other's company.
-end.