Wolf had lost any trace of affection for Ashley and watched her with furious eyes.
‘That’s the thing. As soon as I realised it was the Cremation Killer case that I had lied about, I panicked.’ Ashley was becoming tearful. ‘I wouldn’t help someone accused of the things that man was walk free for all the money in the world. I went straight round to Vijay’s house, you’ve got to believe me, and I told him I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t mention his involvement or the money. I’d just say that I was mistaken.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘He tried to talk me out of it, but I think he understood. On the way home, I called the law firm that had been present for my witness statement.’
‘Collins and Hunter.’
‘And I got put through to one of the senior lawyers.’
‘Michael Gable-Collins?’
‘Yes!’ said Ashley, surprised.
It had not yet been made public that he was dead.
‘I told him that I needed to retract my statement and he started threatening me. He began reeling off the charges that I was guilty of: contempt of court, impeding a police investigation, perhaps even an accomplice to the murders! He asked me if I wanted to go to prison, and when I told him about Jordan he said social services would be involved and that they might even take him away from me.’
Ashley was visibly shaken just from the memory of this terrifying conversation. Despite himself, Wolf handed her a napkin.
‘It was too high-profile a case for his firm to lose, no matter what the cost,’ said Wolf.
‘He told me to keep my “stupid mouth shut” and said he’d do all in his power to keep me out of the courtroom. That was the last I ever heard about it directly. Then I watched the events unfold and what you did to try to stop the man that I had helped free, and I – I am so, so sorry.’
Wolf silently got up from the table, took out his wallet and dropped a ten-pound note next to his half-full plate.
‘It’s not me you need to apologise to,’ he said.
Ashley burst into tears.
Wolf walked out of the café, leaving the endangered woman, whose safety he was responsible for, sitting in the corner alone.
CHAPTER 25
Wednesday 9 July 2014
10.20 a.m.
Edmunds felt drunk on exhaustion. He had eventually left the archives at 6 a.m. and had been sitting at his shared desk in the office less than an hour later. His hopes for a doze before the department filled up with those fortunate enough to be working the more sociable shifts had been scuppered when Simmons heaved himself into the chair beside him at 7.05 a.m. Showing a work ethic and obsessive streak only surpassed by Edmunds’ own, he had given himself a head start on the day to complete his enquiries regarding the remaining seven names on the list.
Edmunds sent Tia a text to say that he missed her and was going to do his best to get back on time that evening. He had even suggested that they go out for something to eat. He had hesitated before pressing send. The idea of committing himself to additional hours of exhaustion was unappealing, but he thought he should make the effort and was feeling guilty about his innocent, but no less reprehensible, stakeout lie.
After revealing his expertise in criminal communiqués during the initial team meeting, he had unofficially become the department’s criminal behaviourist, a role for which he was neither qualified nor being financially rewarded. The commander had requested he prepare a report on the latest note that the killer had so daringly placed on Wolf’s person.
It had not taken Joe long to ascertain that the bloody fingerprint from the note was a match to the sample taken from the barbed wire fencing. Edmunds could, therefore, confidently conclude that the message was no more than another taunt. The killer was demonstrating the insignificance of his misstep in Wales and had literally handed them a sample of his own DNA to prove just how incapable they were of stopping him. The fact that he had chosen to deliver the message in person indicated the heightened degree of his growing god complex and suggested to Edmunds that he intended it all to end spectacularly in just five days’ time.
He woke with a start. His half-typed report waited on the screen in front of him, the cursor flashing impatiently at the end of his last word. The screensaver had not even activated. He must have only closed his eyes for a moment but somehow felt even worse for it. Offering to make Simmons a drink, he went into the kitchen. While he waited for the kettle to boil, he splashed cold water on his face over the mug-filled sink.
‘You didn’t get hit again?’
Edmunds finished drying his face to catch Baxter stealing his hot water. The heavy bags beneath his eyes emphasised the bruises left by his broken nose.
‘Is Tia knocking you around?’ she asked in mock concern.
‘I told you, I tripped over the cat.’
‘OK. Did you “trip over the cat” again?’
‘No. I’ve just not slept.’
‘Because?’
He had managed to keep his visits to the archives secret until this point. He considered finally confiding in Baxter but then decided against it.
‘Sofa,’ he said, knowing that she would readily accept his relationship troubles as sufficient explanation. ‘What are you working on today?’
‘Some bloke jumped off Waterloo Bridge and drowned. Left a note and everything. Quite possibly the most straightforward suicide in history, except that some CSI-watching constable has, for no good reason, declared that it looks suspicious. After that, we’ve got to head over to Bloomsbury for a puddle of blood. The guy’s probably taken himself down to A & E: mystery solved.’
She sighed heavily, however Edmunds thought it sounded far more interesting than his day was shaping up to be.
‘Have you seen Wolf?’ she asked.
‘He’s not been in.’
Blake appeared in the kitchen doorway. He had started wearing a suit and combing his hair since being partnered with Baxter.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘Gotta go,’ said Baxter, pouring away her coffee and adding the mug to the already precariously stacked pile in the sink.
Andrea had just got off the phone with Wolf when she stepped out of the taxi. It had been a decidedly unsuccessful conversation, courtesy of the car noise at her end and the background chatter of whichever busy high street he had been walking down at the time.
She had wanted to check in with him. The production team at the newsroom were already making preparations for the rapidly approaching concluding day of the Ragdoll saga. Unfortunately Wolf had been in no mood to speak to her.