Woman in Black (34 page)

With that, Steven continued to try to find Sam. He didn’t know for sure if what was happening was down to her– or what he’d do if he found her – but he wondered if he might be able to reason with the woman. A voice at the back of his mind told him he deserved everything that was happening. As well as more Internet searches, Steven called directory enquiries, asking for ‘Sam Kellett’, ‘Samantha Kellett’ and ‘Colin Kellett’, none of which returned any results.

Eventually, two days after the visit, Steven felt almost resigned to his fate. He didn’t know if someone might end up coming after him but he did start carrying around a pocket knife just in case. His wife sensed something was wrong but he said things were fine. If he left the house, he tried to make sure he had someone else with him. He felt guilty at using his wife and children almost as human shields but tried to blank those feelings out.

After the weekend, his wife went to work as usual and, with his children at school, Steven was alone in the house for the first time properly since the officers had visited. He often worked from home anyway but was edgy about being on his own. He made sure the windows and doors were locked and tried to do his regular work.

Halfway through the morning the doorbell rang. Steven felt his heart rate rise but looked through the side window and saw the postman standing there. He signed for a parcel but, after taking it inside, realised how jumpy everything was making him.

Not long after, the doorbell sounded again. Steven again checked through the side window. A short and fairly slight man in jeans and a T-shirt was waiting but, from where Steven was looking from, he had no idea who the person was. He moved around so he was on the other side of the door and shouted. ‘Who is it?’

‘Gas man, I’m here to check the meter.’

Steven hadn’t noticed a van outside his house but figured it wasn’t necessarily unusual as the person could have parked at the other end of the row of houses and then walked from one to the next. ‘Have you got identification?’

The man pressed a badge up against the window to the side of the door. Steven stared at it but realised that, aside from a company logo, he had no idea what he was looking for. He still couldn’t see the person’s face either. The identification had someone’s name on, as well as a company and a phone number. Steven thought about calling the number to check but figured it was probably a little over the top. He unbolted the door and opened it inwards before stepping back. His hand hovered imperceptibly close to the knife in his pocket.

The visitor stepped into the house and looked up. There was a flicker of recognition between the men and Steven realised he’d made a horrible mistake. ‘You?’ he said.

‘Me.’

Steven tried to grab the knife from his pocket but the other man was quicker, reaching forward and pushing something into his neck. His last thought before his eyes closed and he slumped to the floor was that the police officers who had visited him didn’t know how horribly wrong they were.

THIRTY-ONE

Jessica had worked through the weekend as best she could but the problem, as ever, was that most people in other organisations didn’t. She spoke to DCI Cole on Friday but releasing the photo of the woman to the media in a ‘Who’s this?’ way was their last resort. The problem was that Jessica couldn’t think of another method to identify the person. They had nothing except for a first name, only a vague idea that Sam was English and no clue where she came from, or if she would still be there eleven years on. Not only that but there was something not quite right about the picture that Jessica couldn’t figure out. Jessica looked at it over and over, feeling there was something obvious she was missing but she couldn’t see what it was.

She again tried the various travel companies but the people she spoke to repeated that they didn’t keep records that went back that far. With no crime reports and no other way to identify who the person was, Jessica spoke to the chief inspector again on the Sunday morning and he agreed the picture of Sam could be released. The trouble was that they didn’t actually know if the woman was responsible for everything that had been happening. She was the only suspect they had but it would be harsh to get her photo on news bulletins, potentially reminding the woman of something terrible that had happened over a decade ago if it ended up having no relation to what was going on. If Jessica could have thought of any way of identifying the person without having to do that, she would have done.

Rather reluctantly, the senior press officer came into the station on Sunday afternoon and worked with Jessica on something they could release to the media. The biggest problem was that it would have to be run as nationally as possible. With local campaigns they both knew people they could lean on if they really needed a favour to get something published but it was far harder to do something across the whole country.

The statement they ended with was a mixture of spiced-up language including a recap of the hands found. The comments relating to Sam were toned down and carefully worded to make it clear she wasn’t a suspect. She might well be but they couldn’t have that broadcast. Instead, Sam was someone who ‘might hold key information’. Jessica knew it was the type of nothing phrase the police always came out with but, in this instance, it was as good as they could manage. They hoped the recap of the juicy details regarding the hands might persuade the newspapers to print something, while the television news may have a brief segment with Sam’s photo. Everything was also put on the police’s own website and the press officer put out alerts across their social network accounts. It was about as much as they could do and Jessica hoped they received phone calls so they could find out who Sam was and, with luck, figure out exactly what had been going on.

On the Monday, there was something on the television news. One of the two main news channels ignored their story but the other gave them the briefest of ten-second slots where they flashed Sam’s photo and a phone number for the public to call if they knew who it was. It wasn’t the best result but there was some information on a few news outlets’ websites and Jessica knew it was now a waiting game to see if any useful suggestions came in.

The day didn’t produce too much but the news story gradually received more attention as it went on. Jessica didn’t hurry into the station on Tuesday, partly because she had put the hours in over the weekend but also because there wasn’t a whole lot she could do. The calls were being taken by the national Crimestoppers service, with any names suggested being fed back for her team to go over. She had already left Rowlands and Diamond instructions.

As she arrived, Jessica instantly knew something was going on because of the lack of marked police cars in the car park. Usually there would be a couple of rows of vehicles but there were just two. She walked into the reception area, asking the desk sergeant what was going on.

‘They’ve found a body.’

‘Of who?’ Jessica’s first thought was that one of the handless victims had been discovered but she wasn’t prepared for the actual response.

‘They think it’s Christine Johnson.’

‘You’re joking?’

‘Nope. It’s been mad in here all morning. Some tip-off had everyone dashing out; even the DCI’s gone and someone said the super was on his way too.’

‘Where?’

‘Some garage not that far away.’ The sergeant wrote out the address for Jessica. She first went to check on Dave and Izzy, who were working their way through a few names that had been put forward that morning but, as yet, no one who had been suggested matched ‘their’ Sam.

Jessica left them to it and drove herself to the site where Christine’s body had apparently been found. She was grateful it hadn’t happened a day earlier, else there was no way she would have had any coverage to help find Sam. As she neared the location, Jessica could tell someone had said something they shouldn’t. A helicopter belonging to a news station was hovering overhead while vans with enormous satellite dishes were parked nearby, meaning someone had tipped the media off. Jessica shoved her way through a small crowd that had gathered, ignoring questions being shouted at her by the waiting journalists.

The garage was only a ten-minute journey from their station, the type of place that looked as if it had been there for years and was easy to ignore. A sign at the front promised cheap MOT prices with a wide driveway leading towards the working area. The public and media were being penned back at the end of the drive as Jessica walked quickly towards where she could see other police officers in a courtyard, as well as a couple of the Scene of Crime team standing around.

‘What are you doing here?’ Cole asked as Jessica strode towards him.

Jessica shrugged. ‘I don’t know. My team are handling the calls back at the station so I thought I’d come take a look. Have you really found her body?’

The chief inspector nodded towards a set of large doors ahead of them that were closed. ‘Probably. It looks as if it could be her but we don’t know for sure. The body is a little decomposed and was being stored in the well underneath where they work on the cars.’

Jessica could tell from the placement back and away from the main road that it would be easy to conceal things at the garage. ‘Do you mean the pit things that mechanics stand in and then work above them? How were they keeping her down there, they’re not exactly deep? Or was it just her body they had dumped?’

‘We don’t know,’ Cole replied. ‘You’re right about it not being big enough to leave someone, it’s not like a mine shaft or anything, it’s an area roughly five feet deep. She could have climbed out. It’s a mess of oil and diesel so the forensic boys aren’t happy. We’re assuming it’s where her body was dumped.’

‘How did you find it?’

‘That red van. Someone scrapped a red former Royal Mail van down in the Midlands on Saturday. The guy who was working handed over the money and so on but the scrapyard’s owner noticed the transaction this morning and luckily he watches the news. Because you need the DVLA documents, it would be pretty hard to fake an address. He phoned us, gave us this place and, when we came around earlier, there was the body.’

‘Has anyone been arrested?’

‘No, we’re looking for the guy who runs this place but he’s not here and not at his house. We reckon he might have seen the police cars this morning and made a run for it. We know who he is though so I don’t reckon he’ll be able to hide out for long. Any luck with your woman?’

Jessica hadn’t been thinking about her case. ‘Not yet. We’d have been screwed if this had happened a day earlier. At least we made the news this morning. Has anyone told George Johnson we might have found his wife?’

Cole pointed at the helicopter overhead. ‘Bit hard to keep it from him. He’s in London but someone’s gone to see him.’

‘Do we have anything on him?’

The chief inspector stopped looking at the closed garage doors, peering towards Jessica. He lowered his voice. ‘Some of his emails showed he was certainly
friendly
with his PA and there were the regular cash withdrawals but nothing really. All we can do is ask him but we’ve been delaying bringing him in to see if we can connect any more dots. He’s clean though; he’ll be able to say the emails were harmless flirting and I’m sure he’ll have a reason for the cash. Our best hope is finding the garage owner. If he was acting alone then we’ll have our man, if not then hopefully he’ll be willing to tell us.’

‘Why are you here?’

‘The super’s on his way so I’m waiting for that. I suspect he’ll say something to the cameras. We’ve got to try to get the garage owner’s photo distributed as far and wide as possible so it’s going to be one of those days.’

‘You wait all year for a manhunt to come along then two pop up at once.’

Jessica hoped Cole would smile but he was unmoving. He looked as if he was about to say something but his phone rang. Overhead the helicopter moved swiftly away from the area, flying towards the city centre. Because of the noise, Jessica missed the first part of the conversation but the second was clear enough and, if she was in any doubt, it evaporated when the chief inspector handed her his phone.

Another hand had been found.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jessica leant back into her office chair, closing her eyes. She couldn’t remember a busier day than the previous one at Longsight. A hand she assumed belonged to Steven Povey had been left not far from Piccadilly train station. Jessica arrived there to find the news helicopter overhead and a handful of officers trying to keep the scene fresh while bemused and annoyed commuters hurried past, oblivious to what was going on.

The appendage had been recovered but tests were going to take a while to confirm the identity because the forensics team were tied up with what everyone assumed was Christine Johnson’s body. Jessica had managed to contact Steven’s wife, who said she hadn’t seen her husband since the previous morning. She had reported it to her local force but not much had happened because it was only a little over a day since he disappeared. Jessica didn’t reveal anything specific that she knew but did feel bad about the whole affair. On the one hand, Steven had refused protection because he didn’t want to talk to his partner. Jessica wondered if she could have forced him to accept protective custody but it was unlikely, especially with their lack of resources.

The hunt for Sam hadn’t got much further than where it had been the previous morning, largely because the discovery of Christine Johnson’s body had overtaken everything, both at the station and in the media. A handful of phone calls were coming in relating to the woman in their photograph but nothing that seemed to match their criteria for age and appearance.

If everything happening at the station wasn’t already enough, the company had finally arrived to fix the station’s air-conditioning unit and had been clattering in and out of reception as confused journalists stood at the front gates wondering what was going on.

Jessica breathed in deeply enjoying the relative quiet and, for the first time in a while, not feeling sweaty in her own office.