Cruel Justice (DI Lorne Simpkins (Book one)) (31 page)

Blood had seeped into the small crevices age had worn in her skin. Her greying hair had large stripes of red running through it. The woman sobbed as it dawned on her she'd been found and was no longer in danger.

When she finally recovered her voice, the woman cried out, "Why …Why me?"

Thank God, we found her before he …
Lorne's eyes stung and she swore to herself she'd get the bastard no matter what it took.

 "We'll talk later, Jane. For now, let's get you to hospital, love. You're safe, that's all that matters. He can't hurt you anymore."

"Hello? Inspector, are you here?" A familiar voice called from above.

"Down here, Dr Arnaud. We've found her. She's alive."

"Thank God. Have you called for an ambulance?" Jacques descended the ladder to the cell.

"The chief's just doing it. Can you check Jane over in the meantime?"

"Of course, of course. Now don't worry, madam, we'll soon have you out of here."

Lorne smiled at the gentle way Jacques treated the woman. His bedside manner touched her, considering how he was used to dealing with patients who generally lacked a pulse.

The ambulance arrived ten minutes later. Jacques found a possible fracture in Jane's skull from where J.S. had hit her in the car. She'd also sustained a couple of cracked ribs that the paramedics strapped up before they manoeuvred her up the rickety ladder on a stretcher and, whisked her away.

"Jesus, what the hell …" Roberts exclaimed, taking in his surroundings when he eventually joined them in the cell, again. To the rear, out of the woman's reach was a dog bowl containing the smallest amount of thick porridge.

Inches away from the bowl were human faeces and a pile of women's clothes, including bras and panties, belonging, they assumed, to the previous victims. The beam from Lorne's torch highlighted the vast amounts of blood on every surface of the hellhole.

"They were kept like animals. Obviously stripped, and by the looks of things, beaten regularly," Jacques told the three detectives as he rigged up better lighting and took photos of the crime scene.

When Lorne spotted the way her boss was eyeing the Frenchman, she said, "Sorry you two haven't met. Jacques Arnaud, Home Office pathologist, this is Chief Inspector Sean Roberts."

"I believe we spoke on the phone earlier," Jacques said, offering his hand.

 Sean gave Jacques' hand the briefest of shakes before he said, "We did indeed, Doctor. Can I ask how you managed to get here so quickly?"

"I have contacts who keep me abreast of certain situations, shall we say," Jacques replied, holding Sean's stare.

"I see. Well, don't let me hold you up any longer. Inspector, a word upstairs if you don't mind."

Sean shunted up the ladder ahead of her. Jacques chuckled made a fist with his right hand and mouthed, 'Give him hell.' She struggled to suppress a smile as she climbed the ladder.

Instead of reprimanding her for contacting Jacques, as expected, Sean surprised her by discussing what their next course of action would be. "I've notified the station, all cars are on the lookout for Scott's vehicle. Is there anywhere else he's likely to hide?"

"I haven't got a clue, as yet. First we need to find out where his sister lives. Did you instruct the team to notify Jane's husband?"

"Yes, I told them to send a car to take him to the hospital to be with her. I'll start the search around here. Contact your team, see what they've uncovered with regard to the sister."

"Excuse me, ma'am," Mitch interrupted. "There's something you should see next door."

They both followed Mitch into the bedroom off the hallway. The room was a throw-back to the Sixties, dominated by large, dark, veneered furniture. The mattress was dipped in the middle and dressed in a quilted, old-fashioned, lime green eiderdown. Cork memo boards dominated the far wall. In hushed disbelief, Lorne said, "Oh my God!" her eyes scanned the board, darting from one to the other. Pinned to them was an array of newspaper articles referring to the cases, meticulously lined up in date and crime order
. If only I'd had access to this room this afternoon…

Sean stood alongside Lorne and pointed to a section of the newspaper cutting. "Jesus, the bastard's been laughing at us. See? The print is highlighted here, and he's written
ha ha
beside it."

Weary after the day's events, Lorne turned to him. "Mind if I make a suggestion?"

"Go ahead."

"We've recovered the woman, which was our main priority, and SOCO will be here soon to rip this place apart. We might as well call it a day, there's not a lot we can do until they've finished anyway."

"Sounds like a good idea. It's approaching ten-thirty and we've got everyone searching for the bastard anyway. Let's call it a day." Roberts headed towards the front door.

"I'll see you tomorrow, sir. I'm just going to check on the Doc before I leave."

Pete and Jacques were just coming up the ladder when she returned to the living room.

Lorne walked over to the mantle-piece and studied the photograph that had caught her attention earlier. Jacques crept up behind her. "What can you do with this?" she asked, thrusting the picture at him.

"In what respect?" He took it from her.

"I need to know who the sister is. Any possibility your team could enhance the image by about twenty years?"

"Leave it with me, I'm sure my guys can come up with something."

"We've decided to call it a day. Have you finished down there?" she said, her eyes on the trap door behind him.

"Yes. Before I leave I'd like to examine his clothes. See if there's a possible match to the fibres found at Doreen's house, if that's okay?"

 "Sure, I'll help you. Pete, hitch a ride back with Tracy and Mitch, will you? I'll see you bright and early, tomorrow."

 Pete shrugged and appeared to be bothered by his dismissal, but Lorne could tell he was also dead on his feet.

 Not long after, she found a grey tank-top and handed it Jacques.

"This could be just what we need. He tucked the garment into an evidence bag. "I'll get it examined first thing, make it top priority, along with the photo. The results should be back around lunchtime tomorrow. Talking of food."

"Indian or Chinese," Lorne asked, her stomach groaning on cue.

"You go home, I'll stop off at Mr Ling's for a Chinese banquet and join you in about half an hour."

* * *

The answer-phone was blinking impatiently when she arrived home. "Lorne, it's Tom. Could you could pick Charlie up after school tomorrow from netball? Mum's got a doctor's appointment at four-thirty and doesn't know how long she'll be. I've got a job interview on the other side of town at four. Ring me
only
if you can't make it, netball finishes at five-thirty, in case you've forgotten. Thanks."

Lorne was subdued when she opened the door to let Jacques in a little while later.

Sensing something was wrong, he said, "Tough day, huh?" He took a couple of steps towards her and Lorne backed away without realising it. He froze, but hid his disappointment by collecting the plates and dishing up their meal.

She let out a deep sigh and confided, "Tom rang. He left a message on the machine."

"Oh." Jacques waited for her to continue.

Lorne spoke, sadly, "Hearing his voice made me realise what a mess our marriage is in. He's asked me to pick up Charlie after school tomorrow. On one hand, I'm grateful he thought to ask me as it gives me the chance of seeing her, but on the other, it's annoying how he regards me as a last resort. Neither Tom, or my
lovely
mother-in-law, can be there when she finishes netball, so good old Lorne will fill in as a poor substitute." She poured them both a whisky.

"I'm sure you're wrong. You've had a tough day, the slightest problem will almost certainly magnify when you're tired. Think positively,
cherie,
at least he's asked for your help. To back down and call you like that must've been difficult for him if he's still angry with you. Cut him some slack, is that what you English say?"

"Yes, that's right." A smile softened her worried features. "How come you're always so damn objective?"

"It comes with the job,
cherie.
Come on, let's eat before that nasty MSG starts to solidify."

"You doctors certainly know how to put a girl off her food, I'll give you that." She replied, picked up her fork and messed about with the sauce he'd dribbled over her prawn balls.

* * *

"Sis, it's me."

"John, thank God. Where are you?"

"Don't worry about me. I'll make this quick. I've arranged for you to stay at the
Swallow Hotel
for tonight. Don't go back to the flat, do you hear me? The cops'll be swarming all over it by now."

"What about the woman?" his sister asked, in a hushed voice, aware that her colleague was within earshot.

"My guess is they've already found her. They'll have no idea she's not the final one. I'll prove 'em wrong soon enough, you'll see. Stay safe, sis, we'll be together again soon."

Chapter Forty-Six

When Lorne arrived at work the next morning it was still dark. She could see some of the team were missing and presumed they were already at Scott's house going through the evidence.

"Nice of you to join us, Inspector," Sean Roberts said, as she burst through the door.

Glancing at her watch she saw it was only seven-thirty, the clock on the wall above Pete's head corroborated this. Pete shrugged when she glanced at him.

"As I was saying," Roberts carried on addressing
her
team. "Yes, we found Miss Sedark relatively unharmed, that doesn't mean we can start congratulating ourselves on a job well done. Until we have John Scott sitting in a cell, our job is far from over."

"Molly, step forward and tell the team what you dug up on J.S. and his sister."

Molly stood in front of the group. Nerves got the better of her and she dropped her notes on the floor. Motherly pride swept through Lorne as Molly prepared to speak. Despite their recent differences Molly had shone the past week and Lorne now regarded her as a key member of the team.

"First of all I checked into John Scott's background using the information Pete and the Inspector obtained from the school. When J.S. was eleven, a games teacher, that would be Jane Sedark, noticed bruises on his arms during a PE lesson. She queried the marks with him. At first, he was reluctant to tell her, but finally broke down and admitted his parents had been abusing him and his sister. She took the complaint to the headmistress, Doreen Nicholls, who passed the complaint on to a social worker, Sandy Crayford."

"Yeah, me and the Inspector figured all this out, Mol. Tell us something we don't know, will ya?"

"Well," Molly continued, embarrassed. "J.S. and his sister were removed from the family home and placed with separate foster families. He begged the authorities to keep them together but they ignored him. Back then, it was almost impossible to place siblings together. Before the disruption he was classed as a mediocre student with middle of the road marks. However, after he was placed in foster care and separated from his sibling, his grades went downhill fast — he went into his shell. He was sent to a counsellor, after a few months his grades picked up. About this time a fire broke out at the Scott's family home. His mother and father were both killed in the fire. I managed to trace the post-mortem reports. His parents were inebriated and incapable of escaping the fire.

"The fire was deemed to be an accident but again, J.S's school work appeared to improve just enough to deflect the school's concerns. Then I researched the foster families, the kids were never adopted. Both families said they were good kids and spent every weekend together, appearing to be quiet and withdrawn during the week but when the weekend arrived they'd come alive."

"Is it possible for an eleven-year-old boy to commit arson like that?" Lorne asked, perplexed.

"Take the Jamie Bulger case — eleven-year-olds are capable of a lot worse than arson," the chief replied, referring to the gruesome murder of a toddler by two pre-pubescent boys a few years earlier. Roberts urged Molly to carry on.

"That's about it, apart from one more thing. I rang Social Services and asked if they knew what happened to the kids after they left school. At eighteen J.S. fought for months to get custody of his sister. Katherine was fifteen at the time, he became her legal guardian and that's as far as their file goes."

"I've asked a friend of mine to pop by this morning, she's due about eleven. I'd like
everyone
to hear what she has to say," the chief said, after Molly had finished.

"What exactly do you mean by
friend?
" asked Lorne, puzzled.

"She's a Criminologist. She's coming in as a favour to me. I've given her the case facts and she's come up with a profile of the killer."

Lorne folded her arms across her chest. "With respect, sir, isn't that like locking the stable door after the horse has bolted? We already know who the killer is. We've just got to track the bastard down."

"Maybe, maybe not, Inspector. Just remain open-minded when she arrives. Using the services of a Criminologist is more plausible than using a psychic in a murder investigation, don't you think?"

Condescending bastard.
Lorne narrowed her eyes, as he turned and headed out of the room. She pushed back her chair and went to follow him to his office.

Realising what her intentions were, Pete blocked her path with his large frame. "Leave it, boss. Come on, I'll buy you a coffee."

Lorne's frustration mounted as the morning dragged by. She thumped her hand on the desk,
I should be out there, going through the bastard's flat.
Instead she'd been ordered to stick around and wait for some shrink to tell her facts she already knew about a killer on the loose. A pointless exercise to accommodate one of Roberts'
friends.

Eleven o'clock arrived and along with it, a smartly-dressed Susan Bywater. The woman, slim, with high cheekbones that emphasised her good breeding, oozed confidence as she strode across to the chief. Lorne rolled her eyes as he welcomed her with a sickly show of affection. She wondered if the over-the-top way he welcomed her was for her benefit.