A Need To Kill (DI Matt Barnes) (47 page)

“
That sounds like blackmail.”

“
So did your implied threat to disclose my past to my husband.  It’s a two-way street.  I’m not some young, green behind the ears bimbo that you can bully into running off at the mouth.  We either have an understanding, or I guarantee that I will never discuss Lucas again with you.  And don’t try to lay-off my being in any way responsible for what he might do to any other scrubbers.  I don’t give a shit about their lives.  This is a self-preservation zone.  Charity really does begin at home.”

Back in the Discovery,
Matt decided not to make a report.  Finding Downey’s DNA at the Walters’ house would not in any way further the investigation.

“
What do you reckon, boss?” Pete said.  “You think she was telling us everything?”

“
She was lying through her capped teeth, Pete.  Lucas would not have risked coming here to just scrounge a few quid.  He came here for more than that.  We’ll check out every property that she may have given him the address or keys to.”

When they drove out to the main road, Phil Adams and Dave Brent were parked nearby in an unmarked Mondeo.

The four of them talked it through.

“
We got another lead, boss” Dave said, handing Matt a sheet of note paper.  “We located Downey’s ex-wife.  She’s married again, and lives in Chigwell.”

Matt
and Pete left Dave and Phil to monitor Marjory’s movements.

Back at the Yard,
Matt set Pete the task of digging out the addresses of all properties that Vincent Walters owned.

He also phoned Beth again.

“We have an address for Downey’s ex, Beth.  It might help if you come with me to talk to her.”

“
Fine.  Did you lean on his aunt?”

“
Yeah.  She’s one callous piece of work.  She admitted that he called to see her.  He burned her with a cigarette and roughed her up.  She says that he came for cash, and that she gave him three grand, and he left.  What do you think?”

“
That she’s helping him relocate.  She almost certainly knows where he is, or where he’s heading.”

“
I figure it that way.  But we can’t tie her to a chair and beat the truth out of her.”

“
Meaning you would if you could?”

“
Let’s not go there.  You know how I feel about getting to the truth.  I would do whatever is necessary to find Downey and hopefully save Julie Spencer.  Marjory Walters’ civil rights do not rate high on my ‘give a shit about’ list.”

“
I’ll drive to your place, Matt.  Meet me there in, let’s say, forty-five minutes.”

“
Okay.  I’ll have a cup of coffee waiting for you.”

Matt
drove home and switched the coffeemaker on.  He was feeling like a computer-guided missile; in flight and still a distance from the nominated target, but closing fast.  He had high hopes of uncovering Downey’s whereabouts.  The man did not realise it, but he was becoming predictable, in that with few options he had picked one that they were aware of.  The last thing Lucas would expect was for them to know about his aunt.  It was their ace card.

He heard Beth
’s Lexus pull into the drive.  Felt the flutter in his stomach that being about to see her always generated.  The nearness of her could be almost overwhelming.  He hoped that the feeling would never fade.  They had decided to work at keeping what they had fresh; never take each other for granted, or let the relationship become a habit.  They respected each other’s careers, though were not wholeheartedly at ease with the finer points of how their goals might be attained.  Through personal experience, Beth knew that Matt was a complicated man.  He could be reduced to near tears at the news of cruelty to animals, and yet was capable of terminating a human being in a cold, dispassionate way if necessary, and did not appear to suffer any sense of regret or mental anguish as a result.  There was a certain ruthlessness to him.  A side of him was a taciturn, moral loner, with an objective to rid the world of the worst offenders out there.  The capability to resort to extreme violence was all part and parcel of the man she loved.  She had the choice to take him or leave him, but knew that she would never change him.  He came as advertised, with no apparent side, or the inclination to pretend to be what he was not.

They kissed, drank two cups of coffee each,
and then set off for the address in Chigwell.

“
How will talking to his ex help us find him?” Beth said.

“
It won’t.  But it might give us a fuller picture of what makes him tick.  She will know things about him that only a partner could be privy to.”

“
You’re almost salivating, Matt.  What is this, a need to know as much as you can about a man who you have every intention of killing?”

“
I don’t have any intention to kill anyone.  You should know me better than that. I’ll give him every chance to come out of this in one piece.”

“
Be honest.  You don’t expect him to just put his hands up and surrender, do you?”

“
No.  But that’ll be his call.  My job is to try to save the hostage, and to put him out of business, permanently.  When we locate him he will be the one that dictates which way the coin falls.”

The
pebbledash front of the council house was grey and begrimed.  The windows were coated with dirt, and the net curtains behind them hung holed and yellow.  The small front garden was overrun with the previous year’s brown and withered weeds, and a rusting Ford Fiesta sat firmly on its wheel rims in the gravel drive.

Side-stepping the numerous piles of dog and cat shit that made the verge an obstacle course,
Matt and Beth approached 27 Normandy Walk.

There was no garden gate. 
Matt walked up the cracked concrete path and took in the scene.  There were dozens of pinprick holes in the flaking paint work of the door.  Debt collectors no doubt used more drawing pins to fix notes up than an average school did, on estates like this.

Matt
knocked on the door, not confidant that it would be answered.  It wasn’t.  He persevered.  Knocked three more times, and at last a small child’s voice piped up from the other side.

“
My mummy isn’t in.”

“
Tell her it’s the police,” Matt said.

Beth smiled as she heard the youngster
’s footsteps receding. A minute went by before the letterbox was pulled open and a woman’s voice replaced the child’s.

“
Whadya want?”

“
To speak to you, if you are Sandra Blacklock.”

“
An’ who are you?”

Matt
bobbed down.  Held his wallet open so that the unseen woman could see his warrant card through the plastic that covered it.  “Detective Inspector Barnes,” he said. “I need to talk to you, Sandra.  Open the door, please.”

The sound of a security chain being disengaged was followed by the scraping back of a bolt.

The woman who opened the door was twenty-six, Matt knew that.  And yet Sandra Blacklock might have been in her forties.  A cigarette hung from her thin lips, and dull, frizzy red hair was scraped back from a gaunt face.

“
Whatever ’e’s done, I don’t care.  An’ if you’ve come to tell me that ’e’s dead, then just say it and piss off.”

“
Who’s he?” Matt said.

“
Jimmy, my ’usband.  I ’aven’t seen ’im in over a week.  ’E turns up when ’e’s broke, or feelin’ randy.”

“
It’s not Jimmy we’ve called about, Sandra.  I’m here to talk about your first husband, Lucas.”

Sandra frowned, which turned her sallow face into a road map of wrinkles.

“I’ve got nothin’ to say about ’im,” she said.  “That was a long time ago.”

“
Do you watch the news on TV, Sandra?” Beth said.

“
Not much.  Why?”

“
There’s a serial killer on the loose who they call the Wolf.  It’s Lucas.”

She didn
’t look surprised.  “It ’as nothin’ to do with me.  I ’aven’t seen ’im for years...since we split up.”

“
We need to know more about him, Sandra,” Matt said.  “You can help us.”

“
You don’t understand.  I don’t wanna ’elp you.  I’ve no intention of talkin’ about when I was married to that creep.  Some things are best forgotten.”

“
Ask us in and talk to us, Sandra, or I’ll take you in for questioning.  How would you like being held for thirty-six hours without a fix?”

Too late, Sandra folded her arms across her chest to hide the tracks that
Matt had spotted on the inside of her forearms.

“
So come in,” she said grudgingly, and turned to walk down the narrow hall to the kitchen at the rear of the house.

“
Gayle, go to your bedroom an’ stay there,” Sandra said to a snot-nosed little girl who could have been aged anywhere between six and ten.

“
But, Mam...”

“
For Christ’s sake, just do as you’re told,” Sandra snapped.

Gayle
’s bottom lip came out in a practised pout, to no avail.  She reluctantly stomped up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door.

Matt
and Beth took the initiative and settled in two of the three plastic chairs that did not match each other or the cheap, pine table that was stacked high with plates covered with congealed food.

Sandra tossed her cigarette end into the sink
and lit another before sitting down to face Matt and Beth and said, “Whaddya want to know about Lucas?”

“
Everything that you know about him,” Matt said.

“’E
was nice to be around, at first.  An’ I suppose I felt sorry for ’im.  What with the way ’e’d been treated.  But when we got married, ’e became violent.  At first it was just the odd slap or punch.  Later it got bad.  ’E’d ’old my ‘ead down the toilet an’ flush it.  An’ ’e liked to burn me with cigarettes.  It turned ’im on.  But ’e never did it where it showed.”

“
Do you know anything about his mother?” Beth said.

“
Only what ’e told me.  Said that she used to lose it, an’ ’urt ’im a lot.  ’E ’ad scars from cigarette burns all over, except for ’is face, neck an’ the backs of ’is ’ands.  When ’e took up tattooin’ ’e began goin’ over ’em, tryin’ to cover ’em up.  ’E ’ated ’er.  Said she was murdered by a live-in boyfriend.”

“
Did you leave him?” Matt said.

“
Yeah.  I was too scared of ’im to do it at first. ’E said that if ’e couldn’t ’ave me, then no one else would.  Threatened to do awful things to me if I didn’t stay.”

“
Such as?”

“’E
used to get off by ’alf stranglin’ me when we fooled around.  Just as I passed out, ’e would pop, then when I came to ’e would start again.  Sometimes do it to me five or six times before ’e’d ’ad enough.  I knew that if I stayed, ’e would kill me.  Maybe by accident, but dead is dead.”

“
Did he have any friends?” Beth said.

Sandra laughed.  But there was no mirth in it. 
“Not that I ever knew,” she said.  “Lucas frightened people, or went out of ’is way to antagonise ’em.  ’E didn’t like anyone. I don’t think ’e even liked ’imself.”

Matt
took a small transparent zip-lock bag from the pocket of his leather jerkin and held it up to show Sandra the wolf head ring.  “Do you recognise this?”

Sandra nodded. 
“Yeah.  ’E said ’e bought it off some drunk in a pub.  I only ever saw ’im wearin’ it when ’e wanted sex, or was goin’ to ’urt me.  If the ring was on ’is finger, I knew that I was goin’ to wake up the next mornin’ with a sore crotch, sore throat, an’ maybe an extra burn or two on my buttocks.  ’E was into wolves.  ’Ad a wolf’s ’ead tattoo on ’is chest, an’ always said ’e wanted a real one for a pet.”

“
What did he do when you finally got up the courage to walk out?” Beth said.

“
Three or four weeks after I left ’im, ’e stopped me in the street.  Told me that I was a whore like ’is mother, an’ that I should be very scared, because ’e never forgave anyone who crossed ’im.  A few months later, the guy I was seein’ got attacked.  It was late at night, an’ two men were waitin’ for ’im outside the flat we were rentin’.  They used baseball bats on ’is legs.  Broke ’is bones into so many pieces that ’e’s probably still in a poxy wheelchair.”

“
And you believe that Lucas was responsible?” Matt said.

“
Yeah.  I know ’e was.  I got a greetin’ card a few weeks later.  There was a picture of wolf cubs on the front of it, an’ inside was a one-liner, ‘It could ’ave been you’.”

“
Did you report what you knew?”