A Need To Kill (DI Matt Barnes) (36 page)

“
Who?”

“
Her boyfriend.”

“
I thought she was married.”

“
She was.  But she was screwing her boss.  A guy by the name of James Judd was found badly injured by uniforms at a lovers’ lane in Cranford.  I checked him out, and Judd owns a carpet warehouse, and it was common knowledge that he and Cheryl were getting it on.”

“
Did he give a description of his attacker?”

“
Not yet, boss.  He’s in a coma.  Looks like his head was used as a football.  I imagine the doer left him for dead.”

“
Where is he now?”

“
Out at Ashford General Hospital.”

“
Will he make it?”

“
They won’t go into detail.  Just said he was in a critical condition.”

“
Okay, Pete.  We know where Cheryl was lifted from, and where she was dumped.  Let’s find out where he stopped in between to work on her.  It will no doubt be on a route between Cranford and the golf course at Ashford.”

“
I’ve already sent Dave and Errol out on that.”

“
What about the team doing the rounds of tattoo parlours?”

“
Nothing yet.  All these ink pushers are doing Celtic stuff similar to what we have from the body at Grove Park.  And we just got a positive ID on that.”

“
Who was she?”

“
Dental records confirm that her name was Janice Clayton.  She was a nineteen year old pro who worked mainly in the Greenwich area and frequented a lot of dockside pubs.”

“
South of the river again.  We need to come up with a short list of all tattoo artists in the area who are male and between twenty and forty-five.  Then do full backgrounds on them.  It should highlight any who have a history of mental illness, or a criminal record for violence or sex offences.”

“
I’m on it, boss.”

“
And I’m calling it a day.  Rank has its privileges.  Give me a bell if anything breaks.”

“
Where will you be?”

“
That’s on a need to know basis, Pete, and you don’t need to know.”

He pressed the intercom button three times.  Two short and one long push.  It was their code.

“
Who is it?”  Her voice sounded tinny through the speaker.

“
You know who it is.”

“
Are you that salesman who keeps pestering me to buy a new-fangled vacuum cleaner?”

“
No, ma’am, I’m from the Independent Complaints Commission.  We understand that you are being harassed by a serving officer who has a fixation about you.”

“
The ICC, eh?  Well you’d better come up.  And have your ID ready to show me.  I don’t open my door to any Tom, Dick or Harry.”

There was another buzz, then a click as the lock disengaged. 
Matt took the stairs up to the top floor.  He chose to walk at every given opportunity.  The thigh and calve muscles of his left leg were still marginally less developed than those of the right.  He had bought an exercise bike, but only ridden it twice, not able to get to grips with pedalling nowhere in a hurry.  He had considered – for all of ten seconds – getting a real bicycle, but quickly dismissed the idea.  He did not have the time or the inclination to give up the comfort and convenience of his Discovery for a hard saddle.  He’d read somewhere that sitting on them could have the same effect as tight underpants.

At the top of the stairs, he
chose to believe that his lungs were appreciative of a few days without tar and nicotine being drawn into them.  He allowed himself to think that he was not quite as out of breath as he would normally have been.  Didn’t help a lot.  He still wanted to smoke.

Beth put her eye to the peephole when he rapped on the door.

“You aren’t from the ICC,” she said.  “You’re the cop who won’t take no for an answer.”

“
I have a warrant to search your apartment, Ms. Holder.  Just open the door and let’s get this over with as quickly and efficiently as possible.”

“
I suppose you’ll want to strip search me as well.  Right?”

“
All part of the job, ma’am.  Somebody has to do it.”

“
Is that why they call you an inspector?”

Matt
grinned.  “Yeah.  My job is to examine and scrutinise anything I consider to be of a suspicious nature.”

“
I have absolutely nothing to hide, Inspector.”

“
I’ll be the judge of that.  Now open the door before I have to force entry.”

“
Mmmm, that sounds masterful.  Do you get off on people resisting?”

“
Not particularly.  But if you don’t open up, I’ll go next door and see if Mrs. Kominsky would like to entertain me for the night.”

“
Pervert.  She’s almost eighty.”

“
That’s just a number.  There’s probably a twenty-year-old nymphomaniac lurking behind those wrinkles and blue-rinsed hair.  I could be the answer to her wildest dreams.”

Beth pulled the door open, grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him inside.
  “Get in here, Barnes.  Mrs. K will just have to make do with a mug of hot cocoa and a Barbara Cartland novel.”

Matt
took her in his arms and held her against him.  She found his mouth with her lips.  Felt the hardness form against her stomach as he dropped his hands to her bottom and pulled her up tight to him.

Beth drew back and smiled
.  “You want a JD?  Or would you rather skip the foreplay and get straight to it?”

“
A JD on the rocks would be a great appetiser.  And I need a shower.  I spent this afternoon at the mortuary watching Rita do a cut on the woman who was dumped at the golf course.”

“
Any new leads?”

“
She was snatched out of a parked car.  Apparently from the arms of the guy who was with her.  He was seriously injured and might not make it, but if he does, we could just have ourselves a witness.  The killer is taking risks.  It’s as though he wants to be out on the edge; needs the danger to get his juices flowing.”

Beth went into the kitchen, poured a white wine and soda for
her and two fingers of Jack Daniel’s over ice for Matt.  Like the other cases she had worked with him, this one seemed to be racing to an inevitable climax.  She knew that Matt and the psychopath killer would come face-to-face, and that intuitive knowledge made her stomach churn.  She took her time replacing the bottles of wine and soda water in the fridge.  A sense of fear was now escalating. She drew deep breaths until she was a little lightheaded.  Matt could not always come out on top.  Being almost killed had in no way reduced his appetite for the ultimate confrontation.  She knew that he did not have a death wish, but also recognised the powerful desire he harboured to come up against and defeat the worst of humanity.  He had promised not to ever let it become personal again, but she believed that he was as powerless to stop as a runaway train.  Matt Barnes had a full head of steam up, and was engaged in a relentless pursuit.

Beth f
orced the smile back on her face as Matt’s arms encircled her from behind.  She closed the fridge door and twisted round to face him.  He had put a few pounds back on over the last few months.  His face was not as gaunt as it had been.  All she could see in his eyes was a statement of his love for her.  How would it be if she never saw him again?  If he was taken from her by some maniac...maybe the one he was currently hunting for?  Fuck!  Did loving someone so much always have to be so painful?

“
Just remember what you promised” she said in a whisper, breaking away to pick up the glasses.  “Don’t put strangers and crackpots before what we have together.”

Matt
took the tumbler from her slightly trembling hand.  “Is crackpot another technical term that you professionals use?”

“
I’m being serious, Matt.  You’re mindset is geared to getting up close and personal with homicidal bloody maniacs.  You aren’t a team player at heart.  I just want you to know that I’ll be totally pissed-off if you get yourself killed for being too dumb to know when to back-off.  You’re no good to me or anyone else in a box.”

Matt
took a long swallow of the sour mash whisky.  A small part of him did not like to be told how to do his job.  He felt his face set.  Knew that a flare of something approaching anger had radiated from his eyes.  He dropped his head and exhaled.  Beth was right, of course.  She could read him.  But he
could
use restraint.  The proof of that was his giving up – so far – smoking.  He loved her to bits.  Needed to be with her, and had realised when she had taken time out in New York that without her he was not whole anymore.

“
We’ve had this discussion,” he said, raising his head to make eye contact.  “I will not take any action that might rob us of a future together.  I love you more than that, Beth.  Have a little faith in my being too selfish to not have you to wake up to for the rest of my life.”

“
Just make sure it’s a long life, then,” Beth said.  “Now let’s go get that shower and see to your little problem.”

“
It isn’t a problem,” Matt said.  “And even if it was, I resent it being referred to as a little one.”

Beth reached down and fondled him. 
“Okay, Big Boy, go and get undressed.  I need more than just a stiff drink tonight.”

“
Then you’d better get on top of the situation.  I want to lay back and watch you do all the work.”

They couldn
’t wait.  Coupled noisily in the shower.  Dried each other with soft, fluffy towels, then went through to the bedroom.  Beth swung a leg over Matt’s hips and slipped down onto his once more firm member.  For awhile all thoughts and fears of violent death were annulled as they became lost in the moment.

Carrie
came fully awake and sat up.  Something had startled her.  Could have just been a car backfiring, so why did she have goose bumps on her arms and feel so uneasy?  She was used to being in the house by herself.  And she wasn’t the nervous type.  If her inbuilt cop’s radar was pinging so loud, then she was not about to ignore it.  She had the sense of a presence: felt it as though pressure waves were emanating from it and bouncing off her.

She had been burgled shortly after throwing Frank out.  Came home to find the place trashed.  That had given her the idea of having a safe room; a place within the house that she would be secure in.  Maybe it was overreaction, but she saw the results of violent crime every day and was not about to become a victim of it.  Her bathroom was a miniature
Fort Knox; an impenetrable room with a reinforced metal door and two dead bolts.  The small window was double glazed, locked, and had a barred grill bolted into the lintel and sill.  She also kept a charged-up mobile phone in the wall cabinet.  Any threat, and all she had to do was make it to the bathroom, lock herself in and phone for help.

She tensed herself.  Pictured what she would do
; leave the chair on the run and make for the stairs.  Within ten seconds she would be totally safe.  But if someone
was
in the house, she could just as easily run into him.  Having a bolt hole was highly commendable, but not worth spit if you couldn’t get to it.

The only light on was the small table lamp next to her on the nest of tables.  She would turn it off and make her move in darkness.  Knowing the layout of the house was to her advantage.  An intruder would be disoriented and lose any sense of his bearings.

Okay, girl, on the count of three.  One...

Lucas watched her from where he stood rock still, back against the wall of the small lounge.  If she turned around, he would just lunge forward and smash his fist into her face before she could even think to react. 
He took shallow, noiseless breaths.  He had taken a boning knife from the wooden block on the kitchen counter, but did not intend to use it, yet.  He took a step towards her, his footfall silent on the thick pile of the carpet.  This was going to be almost too easy.

The light went out.  Lucas was momentarily confused.  In the split second that followed, he lost the initiative.  He
sprang forward and swung his fist at the spot where Carrie’s head had been, but lost his balance as the impetus of hitting only thin air took him forward, twisting, over the back of the chair, to fall off it onto the floor.

As she leapt to her feet, Carrie felt the draught next to her ear, but was unaware of the scything fist that
had caused it.  She tripped and fell as something solid smashed into her thigh.  Rolled away from it, struggled to her knees, then regained her feet again and headed for the stairs.  It was as if she was treading water.  She couldn’t seem to run fast enough, then careered into the newel post at the bottom of the stairs, bounced back and fell to the floor with pain flaring in her hip.  She grunted, once more struggled up, and set off up the stairs.