Divided House (Dark Yorkshire Book 1) Page 24

  The upstairs appeared undisturbed and Caslin had to accept that nothing seemed to have happened here. All of which added to his sense of unease. His initial fears for Chloe’s safety were being eroded by the notion that she was culpable in the attack on Underwood. Had he underestimated, not only, her complicity in McNeil’s crimes but also her propensity for violence?

  Sirens alerted him to the forthcoming presence of his colleagues and he returned outside to direct them as the first two patrol cars approached. The second of which was an armed response vehicle. Looking back at the house, one question came to mind over and over, where was Chloe McNeil?

  Chapter 26

  The later hours of Monday 27th November passed in a blur. A full-scale man-hunt was underway in York with every available officer deployed in an attempt to snare a killer. The paramedics at the scene believed DC Underwood had a chance. Pupil dilation following exposure to bright light was indicative of brain activity, albeit not a great deal of activity but nonetheless, it was still a sign of life. Despite their best efforts however, she was pronounced dead on arrival at University Hospital, information that came as no surprise to Caslin.

  The utilities restored power by eleven o’clock and the area was able to be properly explored rather than the more haphazard search carried out by torchlight. There was no evidence of a struggle, either in Chloe’s residence or in the car where Hayley Underwood had been discovered. Early conjecture indicated her attacker was concealed within the vehicle, taking her unawares from behind. In any event, she had been unable to defend herself from the attack.

  As the night wore on the tracker dogs returned nothing. Neither did the hastily erected road blocks on the arterial routes in and out of the city. Officers were going door to door and despite expressions of much horror at the events taking place, the results of the inquiries were yielding little. No-one had seemingly seen or heard anything of note. The anger at losing another officer so soon after Harman was rapidly surpassed by the frustration of stumbling around in the darkness, despite the restoration of the street lighting.

  The most anger on display came from Terry Holt. An outburst in CID saw him hurl a chair across the room in a fit of pique. Caslin directed him to the washroom and followed him in. The momentary peace gave Holt an opportunity to calm down.

  “That shouldn’t have happened,” Holt said with anguish in his voice.

  “But it has.”

  “She shouldn’t have bloody been there, it was my shift.”

  Their brief conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Simon Baxter entering. He stopped at the entrance as the door closed behind him, the self-closing mechanism squeaking before the door slammed against the jamb.

  “Sorry, gents. Am I intruding?”

  Both men shook their heads and the inspector passed between them, going to stand before the urinal.

  “There’s no blame to apportion to you on this, Terry. Don’t beat yourself up, although I know you’re going to,” Caslin said almost apologetically.

  Holt sighed, “If I had been there—”

  “Then maybe I would be having this conversation with someone else.”

  Baxter finished up and came to wash his hands.

  “You were supposed to be there?” he asked.

  Both Holt and Caslin looked across but it was the former who answered.

  “I… I had a thing. Hayley said she didn’t mind staying on and covering for me, so I could… she wasn’t supposed to be there.”

  Baxter dispensed with the dryer and took a handful of paper towels, rubbing his hands before depositing them in the bin.

  “Nathaniel’s right. You can’t legislate for these things. It could well have been you. Focus your anger on finding the bastard who did it, feel bad later.”

  They were once again alone as Baxter left and neither man spoke for a few minutes. Caslin could see that his colleague’s head was still spinning. Survivor’s guilt was a strong emotion, one that would take time to overcome, if ever.

  “What time did you head off this afternoon?”

  Holt thought on it for a moment.

  “Around half-past three. Hayley got there about twenty minutes before and we had a catch up.”

  “Anything unusual happen during the day?”

  “No, it was quiet. Some of the locals were checking me out but then they’ve been doing that all week.”

  “What about as you left, anyone hanging around?”

  “No, definitely not. There wasn’t a soul about.”

  Caslin felt his own frustration building. This was not how he had expected the day to go when he had pulled on his uniform that morning. No-one asked him directly why he didn’t attend Harman’s funeral. However, he had overheard two officers slating him for the no-show as he passed them in the corridor that night. They wouldn’t be the only ones. Others would no doubt say it to his face, sooner or later.

  “What was the thing?”

  Holt shot Caslin a dark look and his anger threatened to boil over once again.

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. I can see that it’s on your mind, that’s all.”

  “It was… I was just…”

  Tears came unbidden to his eyes and he blinked them away furiously. The sight of such a burly figure reduced to that state made Caslin feel self-conscious and he decided to give Holt some space.

  “Take some time and come back to the squad room when you’re ready. We need everybody on this one.”

  With that, Caslin returned to CID. He couldn’t help but wonder what had required Holt to need extra time when for most of the day he hadn’t been on shift, anyway. It was a strange consideration bearing in mind all else that should warrant his attention, under the circumstances. Maxim Harman came to mind and Caslin was acutely aware of how unlucky they were to have lost two colleagues in quick succession, far too unlucky, in his opinion. There was no cause to link the two deaths but Caslin was struggling to reconcile that fact with the reality. The situation felt so very wrong to him, more so, than merely a sense of injustice. He forcibly reminded himself that Harman’s suicide had no indication of external influences and yet, he remained unconvinced.

  The members of the investigation team, who were not still at the crime scene, had assembled for a briefing, much of which was to be delivered by Caslin for he was the first in attendance. The immediate focus was to find Chloe McNeil. Formally she was to be treated as a witness but in the light of the attack on DC Underwood she was to be considered armed and dangerous until proven otherwise. Her absence from the scene was suspicious but as Caslin was at pains to point out, there could still be another player in the game. The man known only to him as Charlie came to mind but Caslin remained tight-lipped.

  “Maybe she cracked under the surveillance and made the drastic move you were hoping for. Although it was one we didn’t see coming,” DCI Stephens offered.

  “Perhaps, but how did she get the drop on Hayley? I’m as open-minded on Chloe as you are but it doesn’t make a lot of sense. She would know that we would suspect her. If she’s as innocent as she makes out, she wouldn’t have done it and if as calculating as I suspect, she wouldn’t be stupid enough. With that said though…”

  “Let’s get her in before we rule her out?” Stephens finished for him. Caslin agreed.

  “So, we could be looking for someone else then?” Baxter offered. “Who?”

  Caslin thought for a moment as he scanned the faces before him, noting the absence of those that he had gotten used to. He was unsure of whether he should reveal the lines of enquiry that he was following, none of which were even close to being considered concrete.

  “With a bit of luck SOCO might turn up something from the car, or the house. Has the search of the area turned over a weapon?”

  Frank Stephens shook his head, “They’ve found a blood trail, that’s a generous description, mind you. A few drops, predominantly around and to the rear of the car, but it only went thirty yards before it stopped.”

&nbs
p; “Hayley’s?”

  “We don’t know but that’s the presumption that we’re working with. The trail ended on the road.”

  “The attacker got into a parked car?”

  “Again, that’s only a working theory. We’ve nothing to substantiate it.”

  “Chloe’s the key,” Caslin stated, almost as a matter of fact. “We need to shake up her peer group, dealers, fellow junkies, whoever she has been in contact with. Terry should have a few good leads on that with what he and Hayley have documented in the past week. Meantime, start checking homeless shelters, missions, anywhere that she might try and get her head down. Likewise, get traffic to give us a hand around truck stops, all-night diners and red light pick-up points. If she’s running, she’ll do it under the radar.”

  “What makes you so sure of that?” Baxter asked.

  “Something tells me she’s got form for it.”

  “Would you care to enlighten us?”

  “No.”

  The team set about their new tasks whilst Caslin scooped up his coat and headed for the exit. He pretended not to hear Frank Stephens call after him but the DCI followed and caught up with him as he hit the stairs, falling into step alongside.

  “We missed you today.”

  “I doubt that, Frank, I doubt that very much.”

  “I know you care, even if you pretend not to. Would it have hurt you to put in an appearance? To at least act like part of the team.”

  Caslin stopped on the half landing. Leaning his back against the handrail he fixed his superior with a gaze.

  “I intended to. I just… couldn’t.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, you know. Hell, we all should have seen the signs. Most of all me seeing as I’m his boss.”

  “He was struggling with the job.”

  Stephens nodded, “I should have done more.”

  “Self-flagellation can wait, though, can’t it? We have more going on right now.”

  “Exactly, which is why we need to be a team, in spite of any personal misgivings we have about one another.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “So, we can’t be holding out, can we?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because I am too long in the tooth, Nathaniel. What are you keeping back?”

  Caslin first glanced down the stairwell and then up, from where they had come. He broke the following eye contact with Stephens within moments, nervously brushing his face with the flat of his hand and sucking in a sharp intake of breath as he did so. He may not rate his boss particularly highly as a detective but he had never doubted his integrity.

  “There might be more going on here than we realise.”

  Stephens lowered his voice to match Caslin’s.

  “Such as what?”

  “I need to check something out first, until then it’s nothing solid. Can you trust me for a few hours?”

  “What are you up to?”

  “It’s best and I think you’d prefer it, if you didn’t know for the time being. I need to shake a tree and see what drops.”

  Stephens fixed Caslin with a stare as if contemplating the potential outcomes of his next decision. It was certainly against his better judgement to trust Caslin without further details but on the other hand, plausible deniability was appealing. If his DI were to hang himself, then so be it.

  “Lunchtime tomorrow, twelve hours max.”

  Caslin nodded and set off down the stairs. He knew what he had to do. There was only one link left that he had access to but it was a long shot. Once outside and in his car, Caslin rummaged around in the glove box, eventually finding what he was looking for. The following telephone call he made was answered within three rings, despite the early hour.

  The trucks shrieked as they passed over the rails, the freight train stretching through York Station. Caslin nursed a cup of coffee as he braced against the early morning cold, heavy-eyed but still alert. The fog had rolled in through the vale during the night, giving the air a moist chill, and without a breeze it lingered all around. Standing on the open bridge that spanned the platforms, he casually looked first one way and then the other. There were precious few people around. A handful of station staff toiled alongside those opening up the variety of concessions on the platforms beneath him. Sipping more of his Americano, he stifled a yawn. A glance to the clock told him it was 6:30. He was left wondering if the appointment would be kept.

  Footsteps approaching to his left caused him to turn. The oncoming man was in his late thirties, dark hair shot through with grey, of slight build, and walking purposefully towards him. He was easily over six feet in height, clean-shaven and smartly attired. Caslin drew himself upright from his slouched position against the railing. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth to speak just as the man passed by, without a glance. Turning, Caslin watched as he descended to platform five before disappearing from view.

  Under his breath, he cursed. The long shot appeared to be infinitely longer than he had thought. Ready to abandon the plan, he made to set off in the direction of the car park. At which point his phone began to ring. Taking it out he saw that the number was withheld, he answered.

  “I apologise, Inspector Caslin. That wasn’t me.”

  Caslin stopped in his tracks and as casually as possible began to look around, eyeing the kiosks and coffee bars on each platform below.

  “You won’t see me but I don’t blame you for looking.”

  “I thought we were set to meet this morning?”

  “No, no, I agreed to speak to you this morning. I certainly did not agree to meet you.”

  “We could have had a conversation over the phone from anywhere. Why bring me down here?”

  Caslin continued to look around, trying to find anyone who was talking on a phone or standing with an earpiece. There were several possibilities although they were just as likely to be catching a commuter train as talking to him.

  “I wanted to see you, take in your measure.”

  “To what end?”

  “You interest me,” the voice said. “Very few people interest me but you are persevering in a case that has no victory for you. Why would you do that?”

  “Who says there is no victory?”

  There was gentle laughter at the other end.

  “Come on, Inspector. You are stirring a hornets' nest with a very big stick and you know it. What you’ve learned about Garry McNeil so far is only the tip of the iceberg. No-one wants this in the public domain.”

  “And you know more about it?”

  “I should do.”

  “You were there?”

  Silence.

  “Were you there when Garry McNeil allegedly carried out these abuses?”

  “No, I wasn’t there.”

  “How then, can I take your word for it?”

  More silence. Caslin decided to take a different approach. If this person was on the level, then he had to have access to the information that he was quoting. Either he must have been present or was a whistleblower, perhaps an MOD employee, civilian or military.

  Caslin pushed, “Clearly you have things to say, you wouldn’t have contacted Mr Sullivan if that weren’t the case.”

  “Ah yes, James Sullivan. He has his uses but taken as a whole, I find him to be a trying little man.”

  “On that we can agree. You have me at a disadvantage. You know my name. Will you tell me yours?”

  “I prefer anonymity for now. Please don’t insult me with promises of discretion. James said something similar and I know that technically, he hasn’t broken that promise. However, you and I are still talking, so he has at best… stretched the boundaries of our agreement.”

  “It is only a matter of time until I find out, if I choose to.”

  “There may come a day when I offer it.”

  “So, you work for the MOD then?”

  The voice laughed once more with genuine humour. Caslin was certainly not unnerved by it. This person was confident and at ease with maintainin
g control of the conversation.

  “Ever the detective. What is it that you’re looking for from me today?”

  “The truth. Was Garry McNeil involved in what you have alleged? Do you have some evidence to back it up?”

  “What evidence would you find sufficient?”

  “What have you got?”

  “Hearsay.”

  “From whom?”

  There was the briefest of pauses before he continued.

  “From Garry.”

  The last threw Caslin somewhat, he hadn’t expected that. Dozens of questions ran through his mind in quick succession.

  “You knew Garry?”

  “Well enough, as much as you can ever get to know someone like that, anyway.”

  “Someone like what?”

  “You know what he was capable of, you’ve seen the pictures.”

  This time it was Caslin’s turn to stop and think before speaking. Of all that he had anticipated coming out of this morning, he was very surprised to be where he was now.

  “Inspector, is it too early in the morning for this conversation? You appear to be going a funny colour.”

  Caslin spoke slowly.

  “What pictures?”

  “Oh, come now. Let’s not be coy on the detail, Garry did enjoy his mementoes.”

  “You and I both know that information hasn’t been released—”

  “To the general public, no.”

  “You are not the general public?”

  “No, general implies standard, utilitarian. I prefer to think that I am more than that.”

  “Don’t we all?”