There are countless moments in the average life when you have to decide whether to open yourself up or bury yourself deep. In love, at work, among your family, with friends, there are moments when you have to decide whether you are ready to reveal your true self.
Helen had deliberately made herself an enigma. She had a thick carapace that she presented to the world and it defined her—she was tough, resilient, incapable of doubt or regret. She knew that was far from the truth, but it was amazing how many others bought it. We always question ourselves more than we question others and most of her colleagues and occasional lovers seemed to buy the image of a tough, committed career copper who could not be shocked, frightened or intimidated. The longer she kept it up, the more people believed it, which was why she had taken on an aura of invincibility, especially among uniform.
Helen knew all this and paused for breath now as she stood on the verge of smashing the idol she had created. Letting others in now was the right thing to do and could save lives, but it came at a cost to Helen, dredging up events and decisions that had been buried deep.
DC Bridges entered, breaking Helen’s introspective trance. He was carrying the case files she’d requested. As they pored over the pages together, discreetly tucked away in her office, Helen was constantly evaluating each link in the chain, double- and triple-checking her assumptions. There could be no room for doubt.
Then suddenly her heart stopped.
“Go back.”
“To personal effects? Or—”
“The forensics report. From Morten’s house.”
In the wake of Sandy Morten’s disappearance, Forensics had scoured his house. They knew the abductor had been there, had drunk champagne with Morten and Mickery, so they had searched long and hard for any traces of her.
“Nothing there, boss. Forensics found lots of DNA from Mickery, Morten, his wife, all the main—”
“The second page.”
“Just the incomplete samples, most of which we’ve signed off—”
Helen snatched the report from him and stared at it. There could be no doubt now. She knew who the killer was and why she was killing.
***
Tanner was nowhere to be seen. But a discarded handbag near the boarded-up children’s hospital suggested she had been here recently and perhaps bagged the prize she was after. They were about to leave when they heard something that made them stop in their tracks. A sharp metallicclunkfrom within the derelict building, as if something had been dropped.
Mark gestured to Charlie. Instinctively they both turned off their radios and phones and crept toward the building. One of the boards on the windows was loose—this could be the perfect hiding place for someone who wanted to come and go unseen.
Charlie and Mark climbed inside, levering themselves over the rotting windowsill as quietly as possible. Inside, the place was crumbling and deserted, a shell of the busy and vibrant place it had once been before the new city center hospital sealed its fate. Charlie removed her baton from her belt and readied herself for action. Her hand was shaking—was she ready for this? Too late now. They crept forward, expecting to be jumped at any moment.
Then a sudden movement. Tanner in hoodie and trackies bursting from her hiding place and through some swing doors. Mark and Charlie gave chase, busting a gut to get into the corridor and after their prize.Bang!They crashed through the doors but were already twenty yards behind Tanner.
Bursting into the stairwell, they looked up to see Tanner taking the stairs three at a time. They sprinted after her, Mark pulling ahead in his determination to bag her. Up, up, up. Then another crash.
By the time they caught up, they were on the fourth floor. Had she gone left or right? The swing doors to the left swayed slightly. Left it was. Mark eased the doors open and they slipped inside.
Empty. But there were doors at the other end—none of them moving—and four rooms off. She could be in any one of them. If she was, she was trapped now. They tried one, then another. Then another. Only one left.
Bang!It all happened so quickly that Charlie’s brain could hardly process it. A metal pipe crashed onto Mark’s head from behind and he crumpled to the floor. Charlie swung her baton hard at Tanner—it connected with the metal pipe with a harsh clang. She thrashed at her again and again as Tanner parried the blows.
Except it wasn’t Tanner. This should have been apparent by the way she’d leapt up the stairs during the chase. And from the cunning she’d demonstrated in getting them to choose the wrong corridor before sneaking up behind them. It wasn’t Tanner. It was their killer, and Charlie was now face-to-face with her.
***
It was time to take the fight to the enemy. Ordering the startled Bridges to assemble the team, Helen pulled out her mobile phone and dialed Charlie’s number. Voice mail. Cursing, she rang Mark’s. Voice mail again. What the hell were they playing at? Helen left a hurried message, then headed for the incident room.
She didn’t like kicking off without her two best officers, but she had no choice. Even without them, the team was twenty strong and she could rely on McAndrew, Sanderson and Bridges to marshal the team’s efforts effectively.
Helen wanted everything out on the table as fast as possible, so she dived straight in.
“The woman we are looking for is called Suzanne Cooke.”
The team passed the photos of Suzanne along the line until everyone had one.
“Attached to the back, you’ll find her charge sheet. She’s a convicted double murderer who served twenty-five years. She went AWOL from her probation hostel twelve months ago. She was in the Norfolk area, but I believe that she is now in Hampshire and may be responsible for these killings.”
