Jacob had stepped out to check on the rest of the flat, and now he popped his head back into the musty living room. ‘They’re bagging and tagging a few items in his bedroom but he seems to be a man of very few possessions. There really isn’t much, apart from a shoebox containing a pile of old photos. Looks like childhood portraits of him with his parents. He has no computer, no other electronic devices, hardly any clothes. It’s as if he’s just using this place as a cover and for the storage of random junk. We’ve checked the bin and there’s only takeaway leftovers in there. What you can smell is half a mouldy portion of fish and chips and what looks like a curry. He doesn’t have any bills or identification on the premises.’
‘Sounds about right. Looks like it is just a cover. Why he’s left a photo here is beyond me. Maybe he can’t bear to be anywhere without Deborah. He’s one dangerously devoted arse wipe,’ Gina replied as she walked away from the fireplace. ‘He’d been watching her for months at the school, after work, at the pub, even at home. He finally saw his opportunity on that cold winter night. He’d been prepared for a long time. He must have a van. I know there isn’t one registered to him, but... The night he left the pub, he must’ve used one then, leaving his car in view of the CCTV. He’d probably done that on many occasions, and his colleagues never noticed. He isn’t the life and soul of anything. He quietly comes and goes, tending to paperwork and his barrels in the cellar. He’s purposely invisible. The van had always been ready, as was his method of getting her into it, leaving only her shoe behind. He’d waited and waited for her to leave that night. Driving up and down, he waited for her colleagues to leave and, finally, he spotted Deborah. His patience had been rewarded. Deborah wasn’t the type of person who was often alone in the dark, but that night she was, and he was ready.’
Wyre looked back at her from the kitchen area, nodding. ‘I think you’re right, gov.’
‘We’ll nail him,’ said Gina. ‘We need to get back to the station. Make sure everything’s bagged, tagged and loaded onto the van. We need to book these items into evidence and work on this like we’ve never worked before. I’m going to task Smith with cordoning off the flat. I need him to be here on sentry duty. If Wall turns up, I want him arrested immediately.’ Gina patted Jacob on the shoulder. ‘Right. We need to find out from O’Connor how the door-to-doors are going on the farms, and get out there ourselves. There’s still something in the red diesel clue. Call him now and get him to start looking for a possible connection to Jeff Wall and any local farms.’
‘He’s not in for another hour,’ Jacob replied as he looked at his watch.
‘Call him and tell him to come in earlier. We need all the resources we can get and O’Connor’s the one who’s been working on the farm leads. He’s the best person for this. Oh, and I look like crap, as do you. We need coffee. I’m exhausted and I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a long day.’
‘Speak for yourself, guv, I always look good. You’re just trying to make yourself feel better.’ Jacob laughed. She knew full well he wouldn’t normally come out with uncombed hair, looking like he hadn’t washed and wearing crumpled clothes. Wyre, as usual, looked amazing. No one looked good in a stab vest, but Wyre somehow pulled it off. ‘How does she do it?’ Jacob asked, as they both stared at Wyre.
‘What are you both looking at?’ Wyre asked.
‘Nothing,’ Jacob said, blushing. ‘We were just saying what an asset to the team you are.’ He cleared the tickle in his throat. ‘Excuse me. Damn cold.’
‘I see,’ she replied as she left the room, Jacob’s gaze following her all the way.
‘You like her, don’t you?’ said Gina.
‘She’d never give me a second look. Besides, it wouldn’t be professional, really, would it?’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Gina replied, as she felt her cheeks burning up. ‘Come on, Eros, back to the station. The other officers can continue with the collection of evidence. Today is going to be hell. I’m half hoping that O’Connor turns up with baked goodies, but my stab vest tells me I need to cut back. Now make that call to O’Connor and be prepared for a long day. I want Wall caught.’
As they turned to leave, Gina spotted a tiny corner of laminated paper under the curtain. ‘Wait.’ She bent down and saw it was a driver’s licence. Staring at the photo, she felt there was something familiar in the features. The broken nose. Where had she seen this woman before? ‘I recognise this person. The woman we found in the river just after Deborah vanished, is this her?’ The woman in the photo had a crooked nose just like the woman they’d found in the river.
‘It looks a lot like her, from what I remember. She had a very distinct nose.’
‘We’ll need it verified, but it looks like we’ve identified our corpse. Nicoleta Iliescu. Romanian and young. Poor woman. We need to get the bastard now! I want him in custody yesterday.’
Fifty
Friday, 8 December 2017
He whistled ‘You Are My Sunshine’ as he drove away from the farm and headed towards his flat. He only needed to pick up a few bits, but he had to be quick. Deborah would need breakfast soon. She was his fallen angel, just like Satan himself, there to deceive, trick and entice. He needed to cast her out permanently. There was no room for a rabid demon in his life. It would be hard giving up on the relationship, but it had come to an end.
His mother had insisted that she wanted the old photos from his flat. It had been weeks since he’d been there and he couldn’t remember if he’d taken the bin out. Why she wanted the photos he had no idea, but she’d been going on and on about the past, refusing to allow him to sleep at night while she persistently rambled on about the good old days.
His mother was a supposedly infertile woman who got lucky once and bore a son. A son she doted on her whole life, at the expense of any friendships. His father had died in his thirties, and after that she’d worked their asparagus farm just outside the Vale of Evesham with a few helpers, providing a living for her precious boy. Her boy would never go without. Her boy was her entire reason for being. Her boy could do no wrong.
He knew he was a good boy, really. Deborah just hadn’t appreciated him, and now she would pay.
He continued to whistle his tune until he passed a rabbit on the verge. The scared creature scurried away as soon as the headlights caught its line of sight. ‘Why? Why? I wouldn’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.’ As he pulled up at a junction, he slammed his hands on the steering wheel repeatedly. ‘I still sing your song. I loved you, but what do you do? You give me nothing. I hate you. I know Florence survived, but she is an extension of you. She will never be me, will she?’ He pummelled the steering wheel and the passenger seat. ‘You’re not my sunshine, you’re my morning gloom. My dark oppressor, like the skies above. Everything. I gave you everything.’ He punched the dashboard as hard as he could. ‘I hate you!’
He drove with a face like thunder all the way to Cleevesford Village. As he crawled along the road behind the shops, he spotted a police car at the other end. He pulled up on Holland Street and turned off his ignition. ‘Why are you lot out at this time of the morning?’ he whispered.
‘They’re coming for you, son.’ His mother’s voice echoed through his mind.
‘Shut up. Shut up.’ He massaged his aching head.
He turned his headlights off and stepped out of the car. He sniffed his fingers. The smell of petrol still lingered on his hand. He’d definitely wash and change before he saw Deborah. The last thing he needed was her having a crazy fit on him like the other day. And the time before that, she’d chipped his tooth with a cup.
Holland Street was devoid of human activity. He looked at his watch; it was just past six in the morning. A generator purred from one of the shops. He heard a loud thump as someone shouted. The words were unrecognisable from this distance. He continued walking along the back of the shops until he reached Primrose Lane.
The three-storey terraced buildings blocked out the light. He crept towards the edge of the main road, peeked around the corner of the building and saw the police. His heart felt as though it were in his mouth. ‘Why are you in my flat?’ he whispered as he turned and walked away.