The Visitor (#3 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) (39 page)

The officer at the window put a finger to his neck, signalling Greenwood’s action. With a heavy heart Craig nodded to give the warning.

The black-suited officer shouted loudly through the window. “Armed police, Mr Greenwood. Step away from Mr Moore, now. We don’t want to shoot you, but we will. Step away.”

Ted Greenwood heard a voice, and he paused, listening. It wasn’t his voice, it wasn’t the thing’s filthy lies, and it wasn’t Melissa’s sweet tones. He turned slowly to find the source. A black suited gun-man came into view and then into focus... asking him to stop.

But he couldn’t stop, he wouldn’t. It would be wrong to stop. Surely they must know that? A sudden joy filled him and he smiled broadly at the gun aiming at his chest. Now he understood. It must be this way. The work needed an audience, deserved an audience. They would all see the truth at last.

The officer stared at Ted Greenwood and then shook his head, gesturing that he was ignoring the warning. Craig nodded. Greenwood was beyond reason now. Insane. He’d known it as soon as he’d seen Murdock’s body. Only someone unhinged could have done that.

Greenwood’s eyes focussed far in the distance, where they were all irrelevant. He saw her smiling at him, with their baby in her arms, and he smiled softly in reply. He listened carefully, as if he heard her gentle voice, mouthing a silent answer. Yes, Melissa....I’m coming.

Then he reached across urgently, flipping Robert Moore over as easily as a child, and lunged towards the floor. His right hand shone and ripped down violently, as deep as it could go. Payment for what they had done. Leaning across Moore’s face he cut again, the silence torn by Moore’s gut-wrenching screams.

The bullet exploded the window inwards, large shards of glass hitting the carpeted floor. Needle-fine splinters caught Greenwood’s face, peppering his cheek with red dots. The round sped on for its destination, scything through his arm and making the blade fall from his grasp, into Moore’s gaping abdominal wound. It skewered through Greenwood’s torso, his flesh, muscle and bone no barrier as it travelled deep into his chest. Finally finding his heart and ending his work forever.

Ted Greenwood’s body fell on top of Robert Moore, their blood seeping and mingling, the room completely silent except for the echoing aftershock. The silence was broken abruptly, by shouts of “get the ambulance.” And officers rushed in, pushing the body off Moore and checking for his pulse. It was weak but it was there.

Ted Greenwood lay on his side staring up at them, with wide open eyes and a faint smile fixed on his pale dead face. Finally at peace, believing that he’d succeeded. Craig stared at Robert Moore, trying to hide his shock and failing. Greenwood had cut off his lips.
Liar.

Moore’s pulse slowed and cooled as the ambulance arrived, to siren him to surgery in the Trust he’d once run so badly. The Trust where they’d killed Melissa Pullman and God knows how many others. Now they’d killed her partner, Stephen Barron. Or had he really died five years before? Replaced by the need for revenge.

The atmosphere in the room became subdued, as if all of the adrenaline they’d been running on had seeped out with the single bullet. Leaving them empty. John arrived just as the C.S.I.s were finishing-up, and he stared open-mouthed at the mess around him. Craig and Liam were sitting on a low windowsill and they nodded him over.

“God, Marc, what happened here?”

“I’ll give you the details later, but basically Moore’s alive and Ted Greenwood’s dead. He was our killer. His real name was Stephen Barron.” He outlined the day’s events and John added what more he knew.

“He left the same note in Laurie Johns’ hand as in Murdock’s. The C.S.I.s have just found another one on Moore’s floor. We’ll find the same drugs in all of them, I’m sure.”

“What was this all about, boss? Was it all revenge for Melissa Pullman?”

Craig nodded slowly. “For her death and maybe for the life they would have had together. Or, maybe for the lack of justice his daughter received from the Trust?”

“But why kill all those innocent women? Why not just go straight for Murdock and leave it at that? He had to be mad.”

“Even mad people have their reasons, Liam. Maybe he felt the whole Trust had betrayed her. Remember, they allowed Murdock to get away with negligence. He couldn’t have kept working without their permission. Perhaps he hoped that by killing other women the same way Melissa died, it would have drawn attention to her case. Then Murdock would’ve been struck off and the Trust would’ve gone under. But each time he killed someone it was just covered up again.

The only relative that really kicked-up was Tommy. Everyone else was too polite. He killed Evie knowing that Tommy was her father. I think he believed Tommy would make a hell of a noise and bring things out in the open. Maybe even kill Murdock and save him the job. But when we got involved he must have known he was running out of time. So he started killing whoever he held responsible for Melissa’s death.”

“Or maybe he intended to kill them all from the start, Marc? I think we’ll find that Alan Davis was a victim as well. But I agree he wanted to bring the whole Trust down. I don’t doubt his D.N.A. will match the patch on Evie’s forehead. That’s how confused this all is. He killed the women to show up negligence, but he was sorry he had to kill them. They were just collateral damage.”

Craig nodded sadly. What a bloody waste.

John pulled up a chair and sat down. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“He amputated Murdock’s left hand because it was the hand that killed Melissa. And the coke left at his scene was because he’d been using it on the day Melissa died. He cut off Moore’s lips because he lied at the inquest.” He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. “And he cut out Laurie John’s heart.”

Liam gasped, shocked by the information. “Why?”

Annette arrived, joining them. “Because she was heartless, Liam. She worked with vulnerable people all day and she didn’t care about any of them. Maybe he thought that a woman should have cared more?”

“And maybe because his heart was broken, he broke hers.”

They fell silent for a moment. Then John spoke again, angrily.

“I’m certain Alan Davis pressured the families to cremate the women, to stop further enquiries. If he did, and he destroyed their notes, then he thought they’d been murdered by Murdock and yet he still covered up for him. Evil bastard.”

“I wonder if the territorials taught Greenwood Carotid occlusion. Maybe that’s why he joined.”

Liam shook his head. “They don’t teach that stuff, boss. But he was really interested in assassination techniques. The lads searching his house say there are tons of ‘Kill’ websites on his computer.”

“I agree with Liam, Marc. I think he just joined-up to keep fit. But I bet the original project manager’s accident was caused by Greenwood, to free up the job for him. That’s how long he’d been planning this whole thing. This was a mission.”

“The press will live off this for weeks.”

Craig allowed himself a small smile. “Harrison’s part of the Assistant Chief’s recruitment board. The coverage on this will ruin his week.”

“Boss, do you really think Greenwood chose Evie because of Tommy’s past?”

“I’m certain he did, Liam, but we can’t even hint at that to Tommy. Much as I think he’s a thug, it would kill him if he thought her death was his fault.”

“Greenwood was an almost perfect fit for your profile, Doc.”

“As are half the men here, Liam. I don’t think you should beat yourselves up on that. You can’t go around arresting people without sufficient reason.”

“More’s the pity.”

“Agreed. But more realistically, if we’d had his D.N.A. on file to compare the kiss against, we could have saved at least two lives. Think about it, a world D.N.A. database.” A D.N.A. bank was John’s latest hobby-horse.

“How many homicidal maniacs would that catch, Marc? There was an episode of C.S.I. New York where they...”

Craig interrupted his fantasy, smiling. “And the civil liberties lobby would arrest us for even thinking about it. Mind you, maybe we’d catch a few barristers and hacks up to no good.”

They all laughed.

“Look. Warwick has summed up. The verdict won’t be back till next week, but I’m going to hold some drinks on Friday anyway. Everyone’s been working really hard. Will you and Des come along, John?”

“I’ll see you there and I’ll see if Des and Annie can get a babysitter. We all need a lift after this.”

“Liam, could you and Annette go back to town, stand McAllister down and check that Beth’s OK? I’m going to tell Tommy that Evie’s killer is dead. He deserves to hear it personally. Then I’m heading for Templepatrick.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

By Friday lunchtime the reports had been written, only waiting for forensics to tie a bow on them. The press had been given the facts and they would write their lurid columns all weekend. Stephen Barron would finally have his story told.

The Maternity Unit would re-open the following week, and Craig had just heard that Beth might be in line for the Sister’s role. She certainly deserved it.

Melissa Pullman and three other mothers were dead, so were Nigel Murdock, Laurie Johns and Alan Davis. Robert Moore was alive, just. And he would soon wish that he wasn’t. He and the junior doctor were the only survivors of the group that had lied at Melissa Pullman’s inquest. They would both be carrying whatever penalty there was for that.

Pressure was growing to re-open the earlier deaths. Charles McAllister had promised a full investigation, and that the Trust would look at compensation for the families concerned. It wouldn’t bring back the lost mothers, but it might help their daughters’ lives.

Tommy Hill had walked free, but to what? A life without the daughter he’d loved and had just got to know. Craig really hoped that the Kerrs would help him, and that he’d manage to stay out of prison. At least for long enough to know his granddaughter, better than he’d ever known Evie. As for his crew; they would get a spell in Maghaberry to cool off, and probably to make new contacts for their rackets. The Drug Squad would sort them all out eventually. Not his problem, mate.

***

It was seven o’clock and Craig was mellow. He’d spent the afternoon bringing his father home from St Marys and settling him back in his armchair, ready to be fussed over and coddled for weeks by his mum. She was agreeing with everything he said at the moment and allowing Discovery Science to be on 24/7. That would last until he annoyed her again, and then their usual lively banter would re-start and life would get back to normal.

Craig had been propping up the bar at The James for the best part of two hours, and now it was returning the favour. Liam and Annette had their better halves there. Davy, Martin, uniform and John’s team had arrived, and Karl was in a corner, chatting up one of Lucia’s mates. Even some of the press, normally his mortal enemies, had sneaked in with Maggie. But he was feeling sufficiently benevolent even to talk to them today. Amanda Graham had joined them too, and just as long as no defence barristers appeared then he’d be very happy.

The Warwick jury had been deliberating for two days. There was no verdict yet, but at least they could relax a bit tonight. Even Teflon had popped in for a quick one, beaming bonhomie and smoothing back his Brylcreem. He hadn’t stayed long. Off to press someone’s flesh. But he’d stayed long enough to tell Craig that the Chief Constable had noticed how many serial killers Craig’s team had investigated. And to suggest the C.C.U. murder squad as the force’s lead team on serial or unusual murders in the future. Craig couldn’t deny the logic behind it, but it was something for him to think about tomorrow.

Lucia had landed in thirty minutes earlier with five of her friends. They’d been at the funfair and met some sailors from the Abercorn Basin Marina, so they had them in tow. Word had got to High Street that the girls were there, and a crowd of off-duty Tactical Support lads had turned up with Jack and Sandi. Craig wondered vaguely who was manning the place, but decided that it wasn’t his business. He just stuck more money behind the bar and watched a black-kitted officer defeat a sailor in his bid to chat up his sister. A police win. He shot him a drunken smile, knowing that he wouldn’t get anywhere. Lucia’s boyfriend Richard returned from tour tomorrow.

By eight o’clock the party was in full flow, and the paved expanse of Barrow Square was filling with street entertainers. Craig went out to watch the fire-eater, leaning against the wall of the Rotterdam and gazing down Pilot Street’s smooth tarmac. He was in a daydream when he saw Nicky teeter towards him in black stiletto boots and a mini-skirt, waving an A4 envelope.

“I went home to change and popped back to the office before I came over. This was on my desk - they sent it across from the court. It’s stamped five pm and marked urgent, so I thought that you’d better see it, sir.”

Craig smiled at her, too drunk to get really excited. “You should have a drink, Nicky.” His distant look gave away his alcohol level, and she laughed her loud navvy’s laugh.

“I’ll get one later, thanks. It looks like you’ve had enough for both of us! Gary’s coming after work, so I’ll be drinking all evening, trust me.” She held the envelope out towards him.