‘I’m gonna be late, D,’ she said, using her pet name for Devon.
Stacey still couldn’t believe how easily they had fallen into a relationship once she had found the courage to trust the woman whose dark skin and short blonde curls turned heads wherever she went. Devon was the first thing she thought about in the morning, last thing at night and plenty of times in between.
‘Is this a keep my dinner warm late or feel free to eat it all late?’ Devon asked with a smile in her voice.
Stacey’s own lips reflected that smile. Being an immigration officer meant Devon could completely understand the pressures of work. Only last week Devon had been called in from a day off as they’d wandered hand in hand around Dudley Zoo.
‘Probably the latter,’ Stacey admitted looking at the computer screen.
‘Tomorrow night?’ Devon asked.
‘For sure, D. And I’m sorry, okay?’
‘All right, love you, babe,’ Devon said, ending the call.
Stacey held the phone in her hand, stunned. Devon had said the L word. It was the first time the word had surfaced in their budding romance. Stacey automatically stilled the warmth spreading around her body and told herself that she’d just said it casually, like one would to a good friend or family member.
But she’s never done it before, a small voice said.
She wanted to go straight round to Devon’s place and ask her exactly what she had meant by that comment and if it was what she hoped for because she was pretty sure she was falling in love with Devon too.
She wanted to but she couldn’t.
Because the file she’d found had a dated encryption code. She’d broken through the first layer to discover that it was for a fifteen-year-old girl named Lorraine Peters.
Eighty-One
The Spades filed silently into the candle room. The dancing flames distorted their shapes into grotesque silhouettes creeping along the wall.
Once seated, the Joker looked directly at the empty chair.
‘The card was left in Piggott’s bed,’ he said.
An air of expectation travelled around the room. A new card breathed fresh life into the group. The cards were already mentally preparing ideas for his initiation.
‘And it was refused,’ the Joker added.
Stunned silence filled the room as cards turned to each other in confusion.
‘Sir?’ asked the King breaking protocol.
The Joker let it pass. On this occasion it was understandable. To his knowledge it had only ever happened twice before.
Each card was wondering the exact same thing.
Why would anyone refuse the opportunity to become part of an elite, exclusive club that sheltered you for life? An invitation into the Spades offered access to every member of the club either past, present or future. Hundreds of influential, powerful men located in every sector: medicine, education, sports, business, politics and law.
The Joker allowed the information to sink in.
Refusal to join was an affront to everything they believed in, the values they honoured for the rest of their lives, an allegiance to a brotherhood that mattered above all else.
‘You all understand what the punishment will be?’
A murmur travelled around the table.
‘Take out your pins. It’s time to vote.’
The Joker nodded towards the King for the first vote. The King pushed his pin to the centre of the table.
One by one every Spade pin travelled to the centre of the table.
The cards had voted.
Geoffrey Piggott had refused the Ace, and there was only one possible consequence.
The Joker knew what he had to do.
Eighty-Two
Kim glanced at her watch as Stacey bustled through the office, removing her satchel as she moved.
‘Sorry I’m late, boss,’ she said. ‘Missed my bus.’
Kim crossed her arms. ‘What time did you get off last night, Stace?’ she asked.
‘Around eight… ish,’ she answered vaguely.
‘CCTV says nine thirty,’ Kim corrected, giving her a hard stare. ‘A full hour and a half after I told you to leave.’
‘I know, boss, I just…’
‘You know, guys,’ Kim said, opening up her words to them all. ‘I’ve done all your appraisals this week, and I could stand here and talk to you about my duty of care surrounding physical and mental health. I could explain the rate at which your effectiveness drops as the day wears on. I could even bore you to death with figures of police burnout and breakdowns if I wanted to, but how about when I tell you to go home you just do it?’
She heard three mumbled responses in the affirmative.
She was the first to admit that staff welfare was not one of her strong points. Yeah, running into a burning building after any one of them was a no-brainer but making sure they got enough R&R between shifts was another story.
‘Okay, we know that Sadie Winters was being fed antidepressants by her parents. We’re not sure exactly what dosage she was taking but they were definitely in her system. We established that there may have been a girl at Heathcrest who had an illegal abortion possibly carried out by Doctor Cordell. We know the name Lorraine Peters means something to—’
‘Boss, about Lorraine—’
‘Hang on, Stacey,’ Kim said, as Dawson stood and began noting the bullet points on the board.
‘We also know that Monty Johnson was instructed to kill Joanna Wade by members of his old club in return for re-entry back into the group. We have the whole message stream on text but can’t find out from whom.’ She paused to demonstrate her frustration at that fact. Having the whole conversation but no name was driving her mad.
‘And now Monty Johnson is dead, so we can’t get any more information from him. Rupert knows nothing and thought Monty’s messaging was due to an affair. So, we still have a lot of names, a lot of secrecy, private elite clubs, privilege, wealth, illegal abortions. And yet there’s only one question that matters as much today as it did on Monday.’
‘Why is Sadie Winters dead?’ Dawson said.
‘Exactly,’ Kim agreed, looking at the board.
Shaun Coffee-Todd had been murdered by having nuts forced into his mouth. Joanna Wade had been killed by someone under instruction, and Christian Fellows had almost joined them. But it had all started with Sadie Winters. Her death was the key to the whole thing.
‘There’s not one thing there we can tie her to,’ Kim said. ‘She wasn’t in the groups, she wasn’t pregnant and seemed to have no enemies at all.’
‘Shaun was in the Spade group, but Christian Fellows wasn’t. It makes no sense,’ Bryant said.
Dawson turned. ‘It has to be linked to this illegal abortion,’ he said. ‘It’s the only thing that adds up. Perhaps all of this is just smoke,’ he said, pointing to the boards. ‘Maybe these kids just heard the wrong thing at the wrong time.’
Kim shook her head. ‘I get that for Joanna. Someone definitely wanted to shut her up but not the others. It’s not proportionate,’ she said.
‘Huh?’ Bryant asked.
‘Murder begets murder,’ she explained. ‘If someone steals your bike you don’t stab them multiple times. It’s too much,’ she explained. ‘The death of two children, and a third attempt, in addition to Joanna’s death to cover a seedy secret, is just not proportional. There’s far more to lose from the subsequent acts than the original crime.’
‘But we’re dealing with people who value image above all else,’ Dawson argued. ‘These folks will do almost anything to protect their precious reputations.’
‘I agree, Kev, but you don’t use a hammer to crack open an egg. Don’t get me wrong. I also think our good Doctor Cordell is involved in this somewhere. For some reason that abortion is intrinsic to this case. If it was someone named Lorraine—’
‘It wasn’t,’ Stacey said, quietly but definitely.
‘Wasn’t what?’ Kim asked.
Every gaze was on Stacey.
‘Go on,’ Kim instructed.
‘Lorraine Peters enrolled at Heathcrest in 1990, when she was twelve years old. She was one of the two annual scholarships because of her swimming abilities. Olympic material, apparently.’