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Baxter thought she might have damaged her Audi, which was frustrating because she was always so careful with it and knew she was an excellent driver. She had had no choice but to park just off the high street in an open space that had been miraculously transformed from a rubble-strewn building site into a functional car park simply by installing a ticket machine in the far corner.
She was on her way to prep Ashley for the move later that day. On Vanita’s orders they were to keep their involvement simple. She and Edmunds would collect her from her flat in an unmarked car and rendezvous with Simmons on the outskirts of the city. Ashley would then change vehicle and be driven to the south coast, where Protected Persons would be waiting with a boat. As before, the final destination had not been shared with them.
Baxter stepped into the third-floor corridor. The two sleep-deprived officers sitting outside Ashley’s door got to their feet when they heard her coming. Baxter took out her identification and introduced herself.
‘You might want to give it a few more minutes,’ smirked the female officer.
The male officer looked annoyed. Baxter ignored the advice and banged loudly against the blue door.
‘I’m on a tight schedule,’ she said.
She could see the two officers exchanging irritated looks out of the corner of her eye.
‘I told you, I don’t think they’re up yet.’
‘They?’ asked Baxter.
At that moment, the lock clicked loudly and the door swung open. Wolf was halfway through buttoning up his shirt and froze when he saw Baxter standing in the doorway.
‘Hey,’ he said dumbly.
Baxter’s expression shifted from confused to hurt to angry. Without a word, she clenched her fist, turned her shoulder and swung at Wolf with all her weight behind it. He had taught her well. The satisfying blow made contact with his left eye, and he stumbled backwards. The two police officers watched in surprise, but neither made any attempt to intervene.
Baxter suspected that she had broken a finger and tried to shake off the pain. Then she turned on her heel and stormed off back down the corridor.
‘Baxter! Will you please just stop for a second?’ Wolf had followed her out of the building, down the street, and into the potholed car park. ‘I hate to use the dead man walking card, but I could be dead in three days’ time. Please.’
Reluctantly, Baxter stopped. She turned to face him and folded her arms impatiently.
‘We are not a couple,’ said Wolf, ‘and never have been.’
Baxter rolled her eyes and turned back towards the car.
‘We are something else,’ he said sincerely, ‘something confusing, infuriating, special and messy. But we are not a couple. You can’t be angry with me about this.’
‘You just carry on waltzing about doing whatever you want like usual.’
‘I will, and that’s my point. I’m not couple material. Andrea will tell you that.’
Baxter made to walk away again and Wolf gently took her arm.
‘Don’t touch me!’ she shouted, and he let her go.
‘Look, I just need you to know that …’ Wolf was struggling to find the words, ‘that nothing I’ve done … that I never intended to hurt you.’
Baxter unfolded her arms and looked at him for a long moment.
‘Go screw yourself, Wolf,’ she said before marching back in the direction of Ashley’s building.
Wolf looked hurt but did not try to pursue her.
‘Baxter!’ he yelled after her. ‘Protect the little girl!’
She continued walking away.
‘If he can’t get to Ashley, I think he’ll come for her!’
Baxter turned onto the high street and disappeared out of sight without acknowledging him.
After the non-meeting the day before, Vanita had rescheduled the case review for 9.30 a.m. Baxter came rushing into the office with just two minutes to spare. Thanks to Wolf, her frosty encounter with Ashley had overrun considerably and then she had hit heavy traffic trying to get back into the city.
Edmunds came bounding over before she had even put her bag down in the greasy stain on her desk, a souvenir from the night shift’s nocturnal supper. He looked tired and unusually untidy.
‘Christ’s sake,’ huffed Baxter, moving her bag to the floor. ‘This place is going to shit.’
‘I need to speak to you,’ Edmunds said urgently.
‘Not now. It’s been a shitty morning already.’
‘I think I’ve found something, but I don’t fully understand it.’
Baxter could see Vanita watching them from inside the meeting room.
‘Then share it with everyone. Come on.’
She tried to step around him.
‘That’s the thing. I really do need to discuss it with you first.’
‘Jesus, Edmunds! Afterwards,’ she snapped.
She jogged into the meeting room and apologised for being late. Anxiously, Edmunds followed her inside, where the flipchart of information now looked impressively complete.
A – Raymond Turnble (Mayor)
B – Vijay Rana/Khalid (Brother/accountant) not at trial, paid off AL
C – Jarred Garland (Journalist) bought information off RE
D – Andrew Ford (Security guard/alcoholic/pain in arse) – Dock security officer
E – Ashley Lochlan (Waitress) or (nine-year-old girl) faked witness statement
F – Wolf
The meeting began with Vanita recapping the plan to deliver Ashley Lochlan to Protected Persons later that afternoon. When Baxter noticed the additional annotations that had been scrawled on to the board, Finlay told them about his conversation with Samantha Boyd and how Ronald Everett had been selling information to Jarred Garland. He handed out a selection of articles written by Garland around the time, all unremittingly criticical of either Wolf, the Metropolitan Police or the neo-Nazi, Muslim-hating juror.
Edmunds had barely been listening. Bar the few hours of involuntary sleep that his body had forced upon him in the dark archives, he had basically been up for four days straight. He was starting to suffer with the side effects of his obsession. He could barely concentrate on anything for more than a few moments and was regularly losing periods of time, five minutes here, ten there, staring blankly into space. He had developed a slight twitch in his left eye and was suffering with several painful mouth ulcers, a sign that he was feeling run-down.
He had completed his task of sorting through every evidence box that Wolf had signed out over the years and had found something deeply troubling amongst the other routine investigations. For a period between 2012–13, Wolf had looked into seven archived files that clearly resembled their killer’s distinctive methods. One of the autopsies had even cited triflic acid as the cause of the ‘horrific internal injuries’.
It was clear that Wolf had been hunting a serial killer, and yet there was no open case file linking the murders together and not one document relating to his investigations included in any of the boxes. He had been trailing this unnamed killer in secret, but why?
It had occurred to Edmunds that the period in question would have been shortly after Wolf’s reinstatement. Disregarding all protocols and procedures, perhaps he had wanted to catch this killer alone to prove himself after all of the controversy and allegations that had ripped his reputation to shreds. Perhaps he had even wanted to prove it to himself.
That still did not explain why he had not shared this invaluable information with them once the Ragdoll murders began. There was no way that he had not recognised his killer’s telltale signs.
Edmunds desperately needed to speak to Baxter about it all.
‘We’re still no closer to identifying who would want all of these people dead,’ said Vanita in frustration. Her way of stating the facts sounded more like an accusation of incompetence. ‘None of the relatives of Khalid’s victims are flagging up as the vigilante type.’
Simmons handed Edmunds the pile of articles written by Garland and he began flicking through them.
‘Chambers still doesn’t link to Khalid in any way,’ Baxter pointed out. She was now able to bring up her friend’s name without getting overly angry or upset.
One of the articles caught Edmunds’ attention. Garland had interviewed Mayor Turnble and the piece was about as damning and slanderous as the newspaper could confidently print without winding up in court. The mayor had been busy promoting his new strategies and had openly invited the ‘victimised’ Naguib Khalid to assist him in finalising his new Policing and Crime Policy report. Garland had purposely asked leading questions with which to encourage the mayor’s increasingly vehement attack on the Met’s most disgraced detective.
‘Almost looks like Will’s hit list,’ quipped Finlay. ‘If he wasn’t on it, of course.’
‘Faustian, you could say,’ smiled Simmons.
Finlay chuckled.
Edmunds slowly lowered the article he had been reading and turned to Finlay. An incoherent thought began to form somewhere within his fatigued mind. He glanced back down at the article in his lap and then up at the flipchart in the centre of the room.
All of a sudden, something clicked.
It all finally made sense.
‘It’s Wolf!’ he gasped, dropping the articles on the floor and pressing his hands firmly against his temple, forcing his disjointed thoughts into order.
‘I was joking,’ said Finlay uncomfortably.
The others shared concerned looks as Edmunds started mumbling names to himself. He leapt up out of his seat and laughed.
‘We’ve been so blind,’ he said. He started pacing up and down. ‘I’ve been wrong this entire time. Khalid was never the key; it’s Wolf. It was Wolf all along!’
‘What the hell are you talking about, Edmunds?’ asked Baxter. ‘Wolf’s one of us.’
Finlay pulled a face and shook his head at her reassuringly.
Edmunds ripped the completed list of victims off the flipchart and let it drop to the floor.
‘Hey!’ shouted Simmons, but Vanita gestured to let Edmunds continue.
He started scribbling excitedly.
1. The Cremation Killer – Wolf obsessed – already tried to kill once
2. The defence lawyer – discredited Wolf’s evidence – got Khalid cleared
3. The law firm boss – knew the witness statement was fake
4. The probation officer – inexperienced – allowed Khalid to kill again
5. The juror – leaking sensitive information to Garland
6. Chambers –
7. Mayor – shamelessly used Wolf before and after Khalid killed final girl
8. Khalid’s brother – paid Lochlan for fake witness statement
9. Journalist – printed lies about Wolf, used information to influence public/jury
10. Security officer – saved Khalid’s life, broke Wolf’s wrist
11. The witness – lied for money, contradicted Wolf’s evidence
12. Wolf – the deception
‘This is ridiculous, right?’ said Baxter. She looked to her colleagues for support. ‘I mean, none of you is actually buying any of this crap?’
‘Chambers?’ Edmunds asked her. ‘What’s the missing link?’
‘It seems awfully convenient that Wolf roughs you up a bit yesterday and now, all of a sudden, you start accusing him of – I don’t even know what,’ she replied.
‘Chambers?’ Edmunds repeated.
‘There’s no connection,’ she said defiantly.
‘What’s the link?’ Edmunds shouted at her, dominating the room.
‘I told you, nothing!’
Finlay cleared his throat and turned to her. Baxter scowled at him.
‘I don’t believe a word of it either, lass, but we need to go along with it to get it sorted out,’ he said.
Baxter refused to talk.
‘Will always believed Ben sent the letter,’ said Finlay.
‘Which letter?’
‘The one to Professional Standards,’ Finlay continued, ‘saying he was obsessed and unstable and advising his reassignment.’
Finlay glanced back at Baxter, but she would not even look at him.
‘It was the final nail in the coffin when it got read out in court,’ recalled Simmons, who was looking increasingly troubled. ‘That letter saved Khalid.’
‘These are substantial allegations, DC Edmunds,’ said Vanita, stating the obvious. ‘Substantial allegations require substantial proof.’
Edmunds remembered something. He was already flicking through the pages of his notebook. He started paraphrasing:
‘28 June – guard duty outside interview room. Overheard discussion between Mayor Turnble and DS Fawkes: “I understand. You were all just doing your jobs: the press, the lawyers, the hero that shattered my wrist and pulled me off Khalid.”’
‘Fawkes said that?’ asked Simmons in concern.
‘Word for word,’ said Edmunds. ‘He named three of our victims before we had even started looking into them.’
‘It’s not enough,’ said Vanita. ‘Not to invite the shit storm that’s going to hit us if we go down this path.’
Edmunds walked out of the meeting room and returned with the first of the archived evidence boxes. He handed each of his colleagues the relevant documents attributed to the case, along with the incriminating sign-out sheet.
‘You all remember Wolf’s reaction to me discovering this yesterday?’ asked Edmunds. ‘Well, I’ve got six more beneath my desk – our desk.’
‘This explains everything,’ said Baxter. ‘Wolf clearly spooked this freak and now the killer’s acting in self-defence.’
‘I considered that, but did Wolf tell anybody here about any of this?’ Edmunds asked the room. ‘Boxes of invaluable evidence that could have saved these people’s lives? That could save his life?’
No one responded.
Edmunds squatted down and held his hands over his eyes, rocking back and forth gently on his heels. He grimaced as though he were in pain and started whispering nonsensical snippets of information to himself:
‘Wolf IDs him … He approaches him … Leaks details of the case … No. No, but he doesn’t just do that because these are Wolf’s enemies – this is Wolf enlisting him.’
‘I’ve heard enough of this shit,’ said Baxter, getting up to leave.
Edmunds turned back to his uncomfortable audience:
‘Wolf wanted revenge, justice, call it what you will, for Annabelle Adams, for her family, for himself,’ he started, still piecing it all together even as he spoke. ‘None of these people’s corruption, inaction or opportunism had been answered for, while he was serving time in a psychiatric hospital and another young girl was lying dead.
‘So, he gets reinstated and starts actively looking into unsolved murders. After all, an unsolved murder means an uncaptured killer. He conducts his investigation in secret, finds these seven old cases and somehow discovers the identity of the killer. Ah, but instead of arresting him, he uses him to bring retribution down upon everyone that he holds accountable.
‘The ingenious twist was to add his own name to the list, making the entire thing about him. Wolf knew that no one would suspect him if his life was under threat. I mean, think about it: if Wolf’s name wasn’t on there, he would have flagged up as a suspect from the get-go.’
There was a knock at the glass door.
‘Not now!’ all five of them bellowed in unison at the mousy woman, who scurried away back to her desk.
‘If, and that’s a big if, Fawkes did discover the identity of the killer,’ said Simmons, ignoring Baxter’s glare, ‘that would mean the answer is somewhere inside these seven boxes.’
‘It would,’ nodded Edmunds.
‘This is ridiculous,’ hissed Baxter.
‘If you’re right, we should assume that Fawkes was passing information to the killer the entire time,’ said Vanita.
‘That would certainly explain a lot,’ said Edmunds. ‘I’ve been concerned about the possibility that we might have a leak for a good few days now.’
Edmunds looked to Baxter for confirmation, but she purposely ignored him. Vanita sighed.
‘Then we have a real shot at saving Ashley Lochlan,’ she said, ‘as Fawkes won’t be involved.’
Finlay and Baxter glanced at one another.
‘Am I missing something?’ asked Vanita.
‘Wolf was with her this morning,’ said Baxter impassively. ‘It looked like he’d stayed the night.’
‘Is there a rule left that man hasn’t broken?!’ exclaimed Vanita, glaring accusingly at Simmons. ‘We’ll need to make Ms Lochlan aware of the situation. DC Edmunds, assuming you are right about this, do you believe the killer is aware that Fawkes is behind it all?’
‘That’s tricky to answer.’
‘Try.’
‘I can only speculate.’
‘Then speculate.’
‘No. Wolf clearly considers himself far cleverer than all of us, including the killer. I can’t see that he would want to leave any loose ends. I also don’t believe for a moment that this killer would willingly allow one of his victims to survive after promising the world his murder. It’s a point of pride for him. To fail would be an embarrassment.’
‘Which can only mean that Fawkes intends to get to him first,’ said Vanita.
Baxter threw a handful of paperwork against the cracked glass wall and stood up again.
‘This is complete bullshit! This is Wolf we’re talking about here!’ She turned to Finlay. ‘Your friend, remember?’
‘Aye, but look at the facts, Emily,’ he replied, looking ill.
Baxter turned on Edmunds.
‘You’ve had a thing about a mole on the team for days and this convenient little story just so happens to fit in perfectly for you, doesn’t it? If anyone thinks they’re cleverer than everyone else, it’s you!’ She looked pleadingly at her colleagues. ‘What if Wolf’s being set up? Has anyone thought about that, huh?’
‘Maybe he is,’ said Simmons soothingly, ‘but we need to bring him in either way.’
‘I agree,’ said Vanita, picking up the meeting room phone. ‘This is Commander Vanita. I need an Armed Response Unit to attend William Fawkes’ home address immediately.’
Baxter was shaking her head in disbelief. She slid her mobile phone out of her pocket.
Finlay was watching her closely. ‘Emily,’ he said firmly.
She grudgingly put it away.
‘Be aware, suspect may be dangerous,’ Vanita continued on the phone. ‘… That’s correct: suspect … that’s affirmative. I am ordering you to arrest DS Fawkes.’
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