13

Craig leant on the desk and shoved his face into Vickery’s. “You might as well tell me!” He didn’t bother to lower his voice, despite the fact that McCaskill was sitting in the room and the Chief Constable was watching on the monitors from the next room. He tossed the cufflink evidence bag to the desk. "I ken this is yours. It was found at a murder site.”

Vickery sneered. “Ye’ll never find them in time. No until it’s too late.”

“Them? Is Vanessa still alive?”

“Aye.” Vickery put his feet on the desk. “For noo.”

Craig knocked them to the floor. “Was DI Jenson right? Is it the same bloke from her case last year?”

Vickery smirked. “Aye. And her being sent up here was perfect. He kent she would be. And after she got his job he wanted her tae fail. Over and over. And as that was no enough, he wants her tae die. Slowly. A piece at a time.”

Craig felt sick. Anguished terror filled him. He had to find her. He leaned on the desk harder. “He’s a cop?” he spat.

“Was. That’s how he stayed aheid of them and you. Though this time he had ma help.”

“Why do it? Was being a cop no good enough for you?”

“Why wouldnae I want tae tak’ a few lowlifes off the streets? Not like anyone would miss a few working girls.”

“Sandy Tanner wasnae…”

“She was worse. And her husband kent and encouraged it. So did her father.”

Craig sat down in his chair. “Say that again.”

“Her father knew. Something had tae be done.” Vickery smirked.

McCaskill cleared his throat. “Actually, sergeant, you’re wrong. Chief Constable Doone had no knowledge of his daughter’s profession. He took a polygraph after the situation came to light.”

Craig tapped his fingers on the table. “You still havenae told me why? Was it money?”

Vickery scoffed. “It was no the money, we asked for nae ransom. Ye may as well ask Jack the Ripper why. We were clearing the streets, ma cousin and I. First in London, now here.”

“Where are Vanessa and the DI? They die and that’s sixteen counts of murder you’re facing—including the two apparent suicides.”

“The brickworks. CF Storage.”

Craig pulled his phone from his pocket and ran from the room, yelling into the handset.

Three marked cars, lights and sirens blazing, followed him through the dark streets to the brickworks. Just as he leapt from the car, the storage unit exploded in a mass of light and heat. The blast threw him back into the car. He slid to the ground, deafened and dazed. Ears ringing, he sat motionless, watching the conflagration in a mix of horror and disbelief.

Milly was in there.

He pushed to his feet, shaking his head in an effort to clear it and pushed forwards. He had to get her out.

Strong hands gripped him and pulled him back. “Sir, there’s nothing you can do.”

More sirens echoed and three fire engines swerved into the square. Men in uniform ran hoses and aimed jets of water at the roaring flames.

Craig pulled free, his heart pounding and aching within him. He’d lost her. He turned away, his eyes stinging with the combination of smoke and grief. He knew how he felt about her and now he’d never have the chance to tell her. Swallowing hard he looked at Brooks. “Stay here. Let me know as soon as…”

Brooks nodded, knowing without him saying anything. “Aye, guv.”

Craig got back into his car and drove like a madman back to the nick. He swung into his space, and ran into the building, not bothering to lock the car. He hurtled down the stairs into the custody area.

The custody sergeant looked at him. “You OK, guv?”

“Where is he?”

“Number seven, but you can’t…”

Craig held out a hand. “Keys.”

“Sir?”

“Just give me the keys.” He kept his voice low, anger making it shake. “I’m no going to kill him, just have a message tae give him.”

“OK.” The custody sergeant walked with him down the hall and unlocked the cell door.

Craig flung it open and strode in. He pulled Vickery to his feet by his collar and slammed him into the wall. He shoved his face into his. Rage and grief made his temper volatile. “All I want tae do right now is end your miserable existence,” he hissed. “She’s dead, they’re all dead, and you are going down for all of them.” He pushed Vickery away and turned to leave. Then he spun around, his right hand curling into a fist. Then, he stopped. “You’re no worth it.” Craig left the cell, long strides taking him to the stairwell. He flung open the door, letting it slam shut behind him. He took the flight of stairs two at a time until he reached his floor.

Shutting the office door behind him, Craig turned to his desk. Letting go of his anger and grief, he knocked everything from the desk to the floor. Papers went flying. The lamp smashed as it hit the floor. A guttural cry filled the room, a mixture of grief, despair, and anguish. Salt burned his eyes.

Finally, rage spent, he slumped to the floor, elbows on his knees. His world had ended. Betrayed by one of his own and he’d lost the only woman he’d let into his heart. He buried his head in his hands, trying to compartmentalize his emotions, and failing abysmally.

The words of Psalm 42:11 ran through his mind. Why are you so downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him, my Savior and my God.

His phone rang and he pulled it off his belt. “Fraser.”

“Hi, Craig, it’s Luke Nemec.” The voice of his American friend echoed down the line. They’d met at a conference in Aberdeen a year ago and discovered they had a lot in common. Luke was a DI working out of Tannoch up in the Highlands. “Is this a bad time?”

Craig sighed. “Just a rotten day.”

“I’m afraid I might be about to make it worse. Something came up in the case I’m working. A snout mentioned a serial killer in Perth. I’m assuming that’s your case?”

“Aye…” Craig closed his eyes, desperately trying to regain control. “Aye, it is,” he repeated, his voice a little stronger this time. “Sorry…we just lost one o’ ma officers, mibbe two…”

“I’m sorry. My snout said a cop was involved, name of Vickery. And another cop, but didn’t know his name. I thought I would pass it on.”

“Thanks.” Craig didn’t bother to add the information came too late.

“My first case here involved a rogue cop—actually my commanding officer—and a missing woman. Long story, but it turned out the perp was living next door to us the whole time, watching our every move.”

Craig straightened. Bells rang in the back of his mind. What had Milly said?

‘Turns out he’s staying at the lodges, actually in lodge four. He just gives me the creeps…He lost his face, fingertips and so on in a fire last year. He has to wear this mask and pressure suit to flatten the scars. He lost his girlfriend, too.’

She’d also said something about the perp being a cop and had stayed one step ahead of them.

Which was what Vickery said.

“Luke, you’re a genius,” he told his friend. “I’m going tae have tae call you back.”

****

Arriving at River Edge Lodges, Craig went to reception. “Mary, I need your residents list,” he said, not bothering with a hello. “I don’t want tae have tae bother with a warrant, but I can get one.”

“It’s fine.” She pulled the list out from the pile of papers on her desk and handed it over. “Is everything all right?”

“No. Thanks for this.” He ran his finger down it. “The bloke in four—Ken Platt. What do you ken aboot him?”

“Not much. He’s a burn victim, here to recuperate on the advice of his doctors. Nice enough bloke, quiet, keeps to himself.”

“One moment.” He pulled out his phone and rang McCaskill’s direct line. “Sir, it’s Craig Fraser. I need you to run a name for me, please. With my department compromised…”

“You shouldnae be working the case, at all.” McCaskill sounded mildly disapproving as he typed. “What name?”

“Ken Platt. P-l-a-t-t. Though I'm guessing that isn't his real name.”

“OK.” There was a slight pause. “Not far off. Kenneth Joseph Platt-King. Double barreled. But he was known as Joe King. He was a cop with the London Met. He reached the rank of DI, then got passed over for promotion to DCI in favor of…”

“Milly Jenson.” Craig hissed between his teeth. “Where is he now?”

“He was caught in a car fire a year ago. According to the report it was the same night as the warehouse fire.”

“I need his prints and photo faxed to River Edge Lodges ASAP.” He looked at Mary and indicated to her. As she wrote the number down, he repeated it to his commanding officer.

“Sending the photo now. He has no prints. He lost his fingertips in the fire. Along with his face. Oh, I just had a call from the fire brigade. There were no bodies in the blaze at the brickworks. It was arson, but the building was empty.”

Relief flooded Craig, but it was short lived as the photo came through. He took it from Mary. “That him?”

She nodded.

“Sir, he’s here, booked into lodge number four.”

John came in. “Mary, have you changed the padlock on the shed, only I cannae get in there and the hanging baskets need watering.”

“Shed?” Craig asked.

“My work shed, next to lodge eleven.”

Craig’s stomach pitted. “I need back up here, including armed officers, sir,” he said rapidly into the phone. “And the fire department. I know where he is.”

“Craig?” McCaskill asked.

“He’s here at the lodges. I’ll start clearing everyone out now, but I need that back up. Once he knows we’re on tae him, he’ll kill her.”

****

Milly moved her hands behind her. Her wrists were now slippery with blood, but the bands were almost loose enough for her to slip off. She bit her lip and tugged, figuring they didn’t have long before he came back. With a muted gasp of pain and triumph, she jerked free. Working on her ankles fast, she struggled upright and over to Bradbury. “Need to get out of here.”

“No arguments from me, guv.” Bradbury turned so Milly could reach her wrists.

The door opened and closed. “It seems I can’t trust you.” He pulled the cuffs from his belt and refastened her wrists in front of her. Then he pushed her to the floor.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“Because you took everything from me.” Platt spat at her.

Milly wiped her cheek on her shoulder. “How?”

“That promotion to DCI was mine. They had promised it to me. But, then you come swanning in with your courses, and batted your eyelashes at them, flaunting your figure in those short skirt suits you insist on wearing, and they gave it to you to make the station look good.”

Milly held his gaze. “So you killed fifteen women, and several officers, to get back at me. How childish is that?”

“You forgot the two journalists who knew too much.” He kicked her, catching her in her stomach, winding her. “Not childish.”

“Not much,” she grunted. “And you killed DI Maddox. Why her?”

“She betrayed me. We’d been dating, did you know that? She’d talk about the case in the evenings, so I listened, kept one step ahead of you all the way. Played you. I went to pick her up, to propose to her and she tried to arrest me. I couldn’t have that.”

Milly shuffled slightly so she was sitting up. Insulting him hadn’t worked, nor had provoking him. So she’d try a different tack instead.

“I must say I’m impressed by the way you mirrored things here. Had the whole department on their toes convinced it was a copycat. Must have taken some doing, faking your death in the warehouse, then starting a car fire to hide the real way you got the burns.”

“Don’t patronize me.” He punctuated every word with another kick to Milly’s stomach.

Milly bit her lip, masking the pain, instead choosing to pray for the bloke and for a way out.

Car doors slammed outside and voices echoed. More cars started and drove past.

“Sounds like company,” she managed. And hopefully they are evacuating the area so that no one else will get hurt. Lord, give me the words to reach him. We need to get Bradbury out of here. This has nothing to do with her, she hasn’t hurt anyone. He wants me, he can have me.

Craig’s face floated before her mind’s eye. She’d blown things with him, before they’d even really got going, but she didn’t regret a minute spent in his company. She just hoped he wouldn’t blame himself, the way she’d blamed herself for the last year. They’d both been played, toyed with by the man now standing in front of her.

Platt slowly unfastened a can of petrol. “You’re going to burn,” he told her. He moved over to her and upended the can over her.

Milly coughed and tried to keep her mouth and eyes closed as the flammable liquid soaked into her hair and clothes.

Platt backed away, leaving a trail towards the door, then headed towards Bradbury. “The cops will lose. I’ll lay low for a while, then start again somewhere else.”

“Why?” she asked. “Isn’t killing me and all those other women enough?”

He tossed the can to one side, his lidless eyes glinting in the light of the single bulb. “Don’t flatter yourself, Jenson. Killing you will never be enough.”