Dead Wrong
NOELLE HOLTEN

One More Chapter

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First published in Great Britain in ebook format by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

Copyright © Noelle Holten 2020

Noelle Holten asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © MARCH 2020 ISBN: 9780008332259

Version: 2020-02-19

For #MyTribe. You know who you are.

Thank you for believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One: Lorraine

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One: Yvonne

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chapter Sixty-Three: Veronica

Chapter Sixty-Four

Chapter Sixty-Five

Chapter Sixty-Six

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Chapter Seventy

Chapter Seventy-One

Chapter Seventy-Two

Chapter Seventy-Three

Chapter Seventy-Four

Chapter Seventy-Five

Chapter Seventy-Six

Chapter Seventy-Seven

Chapter Seventy-Eight

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Chapter Eighty

Chapter Eighty-One

Chapter Eighty-Two: Francine

Chapter Eighty-Three

Chapter Eighty-Four

Chapter Eighty-Five

Chapter Eighty-Six

Chapter Eighty-Seven

Chapter Eighty-Eight

Chapter Eighty-Nine

Chapter Ninety

Chapter Ninety-One

Chapter Ninety-Two: One Week Later

Chapter Ninety-Three

Chapter Ninety-Four

Acknowledgements

A Note from Noelle

About the Author

Also by Noelle Holten

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE
Lorraine

‘So – are you dangerous?’ Lorraine danced around the hall playfully. He frowned; to her he looked unsure whether she was serious or flirting. The party had been epic, and she was still buzzing from all the cocaine in her system.

‘Nice place you have here.’ She ran a finger along the hall mirror and smiled at her reflection. The house had an old-fashioned feel to it – wooden floors covered with well-worn rugs, cream-coloured walls and a strange-looking bookshelf that seemed out of place in a hall.

Tilting his head, he stared directly into her eyes. ‘Do I look dangerous?’ He caressed her arm; the goose bumps rose on her skin and she wondered whether he was toying with her. Her body shivered with excitement.

‘You seem OK to me. Can’t be too safe these days though.’

‘’Course not, sweetheart. But I’m a pussy cat. Can’t you tell?’ He placed his hand on her elbow and began directing her towards the stairs. He smelled of one of those nice deodorant sprays, not as pungent as cologne.

A knock on the front door made them stop.

‘Are you expecting company?’ She pouted her lips, hoping that he would get rid of whoever it was quickly.

‘Only you, love. Have a seat through there,’ he pointed to the living room, ‘and make yourself comfortable. I’ll take care of this.’

She watched him as he made his way to the front door.

He looked through the peep hole, his hands clenching into fists, his body stiffening. ‘What the fuck?’ He muttered and stepped outside. Although she heard raised voices, she couldn’t make out what was being said or whether the mystery visitor was a man or a woman.

Wonder what that’s about? She didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping, and when she entered the living room and saw the bag of white powder on the table, she knew what she would prefer to do. Lorraine walked over to the couch, sat down and made herself comfortable.

Within ten minutes, he returned to the room.

‘Everything OK?’ She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

‘Yeah, fine. Shall we get this party started?’ He sat down beside her and caressed her leg.

She reached across him, picked up the plastic bag of white powder and shook it. ‘Can we have a bit of this first?’

‘Oh babe, I have something better in mind for you. A little something special …’ He bent over, opened the small drawer at the front of the coffee table and took out a needle filled with what she assumed was heroin.

‘Hmmm. Not so sure about that, hun. I prefer a bit of sniff these days if I’m honest. Gear doesn’t sit well with me anymore.’ She rubbed her forearms.

‘C’mon babe, don’t be like that. I thought you trusted me. I promise, this stuff is out of this world – it’ll make you feel sooooo good.’

She thought for a moment, imagined the needle piercing her arm and a warm glow consuming her. ‘Fuck it, you only live once!’

He smiled as he wrapped the tourniquet around her arm, choosing a vein, tapping the needle twice before inserting it into her arm. ‘That’s right, babe. You only live once …’

The world shut down around her. She lay back on the couch and let the gear take over.

Closing her eyes, she smiled and whispered to herself. ‘Sooooo good.’

When she finally came around she was tied to a bed, her eyes and mouth covered with some form of material bag. The stink of urine and sweat filled her nose and the low, gut-wrenching moan she heard echoing off the walls told her she wasn’t alone.

CHAPTER TWO

Maggie had thought her nightmares were over when serial killer Bill Raven, ‘The Chopper’, had been convicted just over two years previously. Having returned to her team at Stafford Police Station following a secondment in the Domestic Abuse and Homicide team, she believed she had left that particular case well and truly closed. Although the remains of Raven’s victims were never found, he confessed willingly to abducting, dismembering and then disposing of three females whom he named. Forensics at the time corroborated his account.

Then, a few weeks ago, she had received a message from DI Rutherford, her boss at the Major and Organised Crime Department in Stafford. Maggie had been attending an event where Lucy Sherwood, a Probation Officer from the Domestic Abuse and Homicide Unit, was speaking. It was a message she would never forget.

Your secondment is over at the DAHU. Raven has appealed his sentence, claimed he’s innocent. Timely I’d say as there has been another murder. Either a copycat or the real killer picking up where they left off. Get your arse in here.

She had seen the news – body parts had been found in a bin – and sweat had begun to trickle down her spine. Forensic details had not been released to the public, but when Maggie had returned the call to her DI and learned that the body parts had belonged to Lorraine Rugman, the first victim that Raven had named in his confession, Maggie’s world had begun to fall apart.

No! No! No! This cannot be happening. This is not real …

And then the anger had come. And the questions.

Is the wrong person in prison? Is Raven toying with the police?

Now three weeks had passed since Maggie had returned to her team and the nightmare had only got worse. She couldn’t get him out of her mind. The greasy hair, the stubbled, ragged face. His lanky frame hollowed out by years of drug use. And the smell – the pungent smell that oozed from his pores, burning her nostrils. But the worst thing was his voice. That arrogant smooth voice that made her skin crawl.

She threw off her blankets and went to find coffee.

Ugh. It was in her head now, his voice.

It was like he was in the room with her … no wait.

The voice was coming from downstairs.

CHAPTER THREE

‘You must see it now. I couldn’t be guilty of the murder of Lorraine Rugman, or those other women. They may still be alive. My solicitor has launched an appeal with the Criminal Case Review Commission, so as much as I would like to tell you all the details, I can’t. My thoughts are with the victims’ families at this moment in time. I can’t be selfish and just think about how all this has impacted me alone. Those poor women … God only knows what they went through … or are still going through. I hope they catch the real killer soon …’

Maggie could hear his voice emanating from the living room. That slow, monotone slur creeping its way into her eardrum like an unwanted worm. It still sent shivers down her spine. She went downstairs, made herself some coffee and stood in the kitchen, listening to the TV in the other room. She couldn’t believe that Raven’s solicitor had launched the appeal in just three weeks, almost as if he had known the body parts were about to be found. Raven had been prepared. With his previous appeals exhausted, the discovery of Lorraine had brought new evidence to the case.

He’s dangerous.

More people will die if they let him out, why can’t they see that?

‘Why are you just standing there? You’re as white as a ghost, Maggie. Are you ill?’

Maggie snapped out of her daze. The TV had been switched off and she looked up to see her brother, Andy, standing in the kitchen staring at her.

‘I’m OK,’ she said. ‘What were you just watching?’

‘That weirdo, Bill Raven, the one who’s appealing his conviction – he’s speaking to some journalist. Telling his side of the story. Miscarriage of justice, he says, and an agency called the CCRC has taken his case. Who are they? There’s something not right about that guy. I know he has mental health issues, but those eyes … creepy if you ask me.’

Maggie gripped the handle of the mug in her hand. She watched as a drop of coffee tumbled through the air as if in slow motion and landed on her wood floor. She followed him into the living room. ‘The CCRC is an independent body that investigates cases where people feel they have been wrongly accused or convicted. It means he may get out.’

Sitting down next to her brother, Maggie placed the mug on the table and ran her fingers through her hair. Scrappy came into the room and rubbed against her leg. She picked up her furry friend and gave him a cuddle; he had a knack for relaxing her. She’d be lost without him. Andy switched the TV on again and there he was. She glared at the face which had haunted her sleep for months, the vile descriptions he used as he confessed to chopping up his victims. An icy tremor raced down her spine. Maggie vowed she would not let Bill Raven creep into her head again.

‘Seems like he’s winning everyone over with his bullshit. I don’t care what they think, he’s got to be involved. I mean, why would you confess to something you didn’t do?’

Maggie looked at her brother.

‘The journalist he was talking to said that the prison psychologist diagnosed delusions of grandeur or some such crap. Apparently, that’s why he confessed. How messed up do you have to be to claim to have killed three women, right? I think someone is jumping on the Making a Murderer bandwagon.’

‘Ha! Sounds about right, but this isn’t the US. I know there have been times when innocent people have been punished for crimes they didn’t commit; however, my gut tells me that’s not what happened here.’ Her leg shook with frustration. ‘I wish I could say more, Andy. Everything about this guy is not right.’ Shaking her head, Maggie continued, ‘Anyway, he’s taken up enough of my morning.’

‘Bit weird how the body parts just turned up, don’t you think? What if he wasn’t involved?’ Andy didn’t seem to take her hint.

Maggie shrugged her shoulders. ‘I can’t talk about an active case. All I know is that Bill Raven is hoping to use the coercion card to get out of jail free; we have another possible murderer lurking about and I’m being told to tread carefully and focus on the current investigation.’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, enough. What are you doing today?’

‘I’m on the afternoon shift for the next few days, so I’m just going to chill this morning. My work rota for this month is all over the place.’ He scratched his head. ‘You sure you’re OK? Don’t worry about that guy, he’ll get his comeuppance.’

‘Easier said than done, but thanks – I’m sorry for snapping. Look, I’ll see you in the morning, OK?’ Maggie grabbed what she would need for the day, put her coat on and headed to the door. ‘Make sure you lock this when you leave and don’t forget to let out Scrappy.’ She didn’t wait for an answer.

CHAPTER FOUR

Maggie looked at her watch. She had some spare time and decided to walk the twenty minutes to the train station rather than jumping on the bus. With Andy using her car for work these days, public transport gave her the opportunity to get some exercise.

The train was packed with morning commuters, each in their own little world. She stared out the window – always amazed at the beauty of the surrounding rural landscape. Long grass filled with wildflowers and edged with brambles whooshed past as she rested her head against the glass.

When she arrived at Stafford train station, Maggie had a leisurely stroll through Victoria Park and headed over the footbridge towards the centre of town. The familiar quacks of ducks sounded like mischievous laughter. Fifteen minutes later, she walked into the police station, her mind still buzzing with news stories about Bill Raven’s recent appeal.

Maggie stopped short when she nearly bumped into her colleague, PC Bethany Lambert. She apologized, walked over to her desk and dropped her bag on the floor.

‘What’s eating you?’ Bethany raised an eyebrow.

‘Haven’t you seen the news? That arsehole is all over it. Since when did he get a personality transplant and elocution lessons?’ Maggie rolled her eyes. ‘What happened to the unshaven, gaunt, incoherent man I interviewed over two years ago? If they hadn’t had his name on the screen, I would never have recognized him.’

‘Look, maybe getting clean and taking the medication has worked? It’s possible …’

‘What the hell? Are you on his side?’ Maggie’s brows snapped together.

‘No. I’m just looking at everything objectively. We’re trying to focus on the actual killer, and if DI Rutherford heard the way you were talking, she’d shoot you down in a nanosecond. I know how you feel about all this, we all know how you feel about this, but you need to let your personal views go and focus on the evidence. He couldn’t have done it – he was behind bars when the murder was committed.’

‘Then tell me how he knew the name of the first victim, Lorraine Rugman?’

Bethany just shook her head.

‘Great …’ Maggie turned her back to Bethany and started up her computer.

‘Pull your big girl pants up and stop feeling sorry for yourself.’

Maggie would let that go. She knew deep down that Bethany and the whole team had her back. Bethany was right – Maggie was feeling sorry for herself.

‘Look, I’m sorry. I just would’ve liked a bit more support.’

‘Now that’s not fair. We all know why you arrested him – no one is questioning that. But we need to lock that away for the time being and focus on who is responsible for the recent killing. Clearly Lorraine Rugman and possibly the other two missing women, Yvonne Greene and Zoe Bridle, weren’t even dead at the time he confessed. They could still be alive for all we know.’

Maggie rubbed her forehead and imagined two women tied up somewhere, locked away for years, without anyone even looking for them. A chill ran down her spine.

Someone coughed and they turned to see DI Rutherford standing in the doorway. She glanced between them and swallowed. ‘They’re saying it was a false confession. That the police coerced it out of him, taking advantage of his mental illness and drug-induced psychosis.’ Rutherford paused, perhaps thinking that Maggie might interrupt, but she held back. ‘Mr Raven has agreed to speak to us in prison, to try and help us piece together what happened. To explain his reasoning and how he knew the name of the first victim. Before we start jumping to any conclusions, let’s wait to hear what he has to say, OK Maggie?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Her jaw tightened. She’d almost forgotten DI Rutherford’s ability to get under her skin.

Maggie needed to settle back into her team and her DI’s way of working after having been seconded for nearly a year to the Domestic Abuse and Homicide Unit. She had forged some meaningful friendships at the DAHU and was really impressed with the multi-agency approach. It was her intention to use this model, as much as her DI would allow, within this team. It just took one thing to blow a case open and Maggie didn’t want to mess up just because the police were sometimes too precious to ask for assistance from other agencies.

The current detective sergeant of her team was on long-term sick leave and had yet to be replaced. DI Rutherford hinted that she was hoping Maggie would apply for the Acting Up position, but it just wasn’t going to happen. She enjoyed the operational side of her job, being in the thick of things and using her brain to piece the puzzle together. Ridiculous targets, politics and a lack of resources within the force would frustrate the hell out of her. She had encouraged her partner, Nathan Wright, to go for the post, but he seemed to be of the same frame of mind as her, or so she had thought.

CHAPTER FIVE

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Maggie laughed to herself as Nathan Wright tried to sneak past DI Rutherford unsuccessfully.

‘I’ll see you all in fifteen minutes for today’s briefing,’ DI Rutherford commented before returning to her office.

Maggie couldn’t be one hundred per cent sure, but a strange look seemed to pass between them.

‘What was that about?’ Maggie poked him on the arm. Nathan seemed unable to make eye contact with her. He wasn’t the best at hiding his feelings and usually Maggie could read him like a book. She watched as he shifted nervously from foot to foot.

‘What are you talking about?’ He walked towards his office.

‘Stop-right-there. Look at me. Can you please tell me what the hell is going on?’ Maggie didn’t like to be caught off-guard and paranoia coursed through her veins.

Nathan fumbled his words and started pulling at his right index finger. ‘Uh. I don’t think I’m allowed to say anything just yet, but the guv will tell you … I mean all of us, in the briefing.’

Her eyes squinted, and she stared at him. ‘You’d better tell me now. I don’t need any more surprises today … have they got a new DS? Is that it? Shit – not Cooper? I hate that misogynistic bastard—’

‘OK. OK. Stop stressing. I’ll tell you on the condition that you act surprised, and maybe a little bit pleased, when the announcement is made. We are getting an Acting DS but it’s not Cooper … it’s … me.’ He looked down at the floor, and guilt flooded over her.

‘Oh my god, Nathan, great news! Why didn’t you say? I thought we were closer than that. Thank God, it’s not Cooper!’ Maggie felt a rush of relief, tinged with shock.

‘So, you’re not pissed off?’ He studied her face, as if he was trying to find a smidge of anger.

‘Why the hell would I be pissed off?’

‘Well, even though we both took the sergeant’s exam, we sort of had this unspoken pact that neither of us would go for it.’

‘I was a little taken aback, but it’ll be a great experience for you and I couldn’t wish for a better boss – I mean, who else will let me get away with slightly longer lunch hours?’ She grinned and waited for Nathan to catch on to the joke.

‘Don’t say that! I’ll be taking this very seriously and can’t afford to give people any special favours.’

She burst out laughing. ‘I’d never do that; I think you’ll make a great DS – but I’m curious, what made you change your mind?’

Nathan explained to Maggie about how his wife wanted to start a family. He believed that not only would the DS opportunity afford him a more comfortable lifestyle, he would also be in a more stable position that would put his wife’s mind at rest. Although Maggie wasn’t wholly convinced, his mouth said one thing but his eyes another, she would support his decision because that’s what friends did.

‘Well let me be the first to … secretly … congratulate you. I’m dead chuffed and will do whatever I can to back you up, OK?’

‘Thanks. That means a lot. You know how much I look up to you.’

‘That’s only because you’re a foot shorter than me …’ And with that, any tension between the pair had been broken. Maggie knew she might struggle a bit to think of Nathan, one of the few people who really understood her, as her superior.

‘So, am I calling you boss now? Or would you prefer guv? Or how about your excellence?’ Maggie exaggerated a curtsey before him.

‘Let’s just leave things as they were. Nathan is fine, you cheeky cow.’

‘Oi, sir! You can get yourself in trouble for saying things like that.’ She laughed as she watched her partner squirm. Nathan looked around the room to make sure no one had overheard their conversation.

‘Be careful, or I’ll make sure your next duty is one that will wipe that smile clean off your face …’

‘Now THAT is better. Spoken like a true DS. Right then, are you ready to head to this briefing?’

He took a deep breath. ‘Ready as I’ll ever be …’

Maggie walked down the corridor to the incident room and found a seat at the back. She was curious as to how the rest of her colleagues would react to the news, but she also wanted to sit far enough away from DI Rutherford to avoid giving the game away. This was Nathan’s moment and she didn’t want anything to spoil it.

CHAPTER SIX

Maggie squeezed into the incident room and took a seat next to Bethany. With the evidence boards set up and the additional chairs, there was barely enough space to stretch your legs.

DI Rutherford walked to the board at the front of the room with a concentrated frown and began describing the most recent findings. ‘Good afternoon. I appreciate it’s really cramped in here, we normally don’t have this many people, so I’ll try not to keep you longer than necessary. I just want to recap, especially for the benefit of the field team joining us today. A little over three weeks ago, a member of the public was pulling her bin to the kerb for collection when she noticed it was particularly heavy. She thought the neighbour had dumped extra items inside. But when she tore open one of the bags, she was horrified to find dismembered body parts. These were the remains of a female, now identified as Lorraine Rugman.’

‘What made her decide to actually open the bags, ma’am?’ Maggie hadn’t been part of the crime scene investigation and her curiosity was getting the best of her.

‘The witness said there was an odd odour as soon as she lifted the bin lid. She believed she might find something inside that could help identify whoever had dumped the bag.’

‘Were there any other witnesses?’ One of the field officers called out.

‘An older gentleman across the road claims a security light came on across the road in the early hours of the morning and he saw someone poking about the bins. He couldn’t give a full description, as he wasn’t wearing his glasses. It wasn’t until the next morning when he heard his neighbour scream that he knew he possibly saw the killer.’

‘Other than what we have already been given, has any new information come in that we can share with the field officers, ma’am?’ Maggie was churning the information through her head at a mile a minute.

‘We were waiting for pathology to confirm the weapon, but it looks like some sort of saw was used to dismember the body. We haven’t found any other body parts relating to the victim, and at the moment, we’re treating this separately from the original Chopper Investigation.’

The pathology department had been slow to deliver the information to the team due to a number of staff shortages. Dr Blake was involved in interviewing agency staff to fill the gaps while they waited for the relevant checks to be undertaken.

‘How do we know for definite that Raven wasn’t responsible or at least involved in this murder? Could the body parts have been frozen and then later disposed of by someone working with him?’ Maggie finished speaking, and the DI sighed wearily.

‘I don’t have to remind you, but I think I will anyway, DC Jamieson. In fact – all of you listen up. Bill Raven’s appeal is based on those body parts turning up and it’s looking very likely that he may be released. But just in case you haven’t digested everything you’ve already been told, here is the pathologist’s report which came in this morning.’ She waved a folder in the air and the crowd of officers took a collective breath. She continued speaking. ‘The pathologist confirmed the limb and torso were not frozen. Lorraine Rugman had been missing, presumed dead, for over two years and the time of death, estimated at between two days and two weeks prior to them being found, proves that Raven was behind bars when the murder was committed. As for whether or not he could be involved in some way – well that’s what we’re here to investigate, isn’t it?’

Maggie folded her arms and sank down in her chair. Her mouth felt suddenly dry. ‘Is it possible that Lorraine was … that the other women Bill Raven named … have been kept alive for nearly three years?’

‘If that’s true, we don’t have much time. Field officers will carry out house-to-house enquiries that focus on the recent murder of Lorraine Rugman, but I’ll also need someone to go through the previous case, which had linked all three women, to see if we missed anything; specifically, I want to investigate if there’s a link between the previous case and the murder of Lorraine Rugman. We need to use the media and appeal for anyone to come forward. Oh. There’s one more thing I’d like to share with you all. Nathan has been appointed as Acting DS, so I’d appreciate if you all treat him as such. Everyone know what they need to do, or do I have to hold your hands?’

The whole room nodded like a sea of bobbleheads and clapped for Nathan’s promotion. A few shot curious glances Maggie’s way, but she just smiled and clapped along with them.

Maggie shifted in her seat as her colleagues dispersed. Staring at the board before her, she reviewed all the information again and stored it for a time that she could sit and digest it on her own. Although she had been over the details a million times, since returning to the team, she was convinced that there was something they were failing to see. She just needed to find it first.

CHAPTER SEVEN

On leaving the incident room, Maggie stopped in the toilets to wash her face. She needed to focus on the press conference. The cool water felt invigorating. She used a paper towel to dab her face dry. Why did I agree to this?

Maggie’s stomach fluttered with nerves. Although confident in most situations, Raven’s solicitor had recently been using her as a scapegoat with the media at every opportunity presented. It made her question her decisions and wonder whether she had actually convicted the wrong person. She stared at herself in the mirror. Dark circles had found a home under her eyes, and she ran her fingers through her hair before stepping out into the corridor.

Nathan spotted her from the end of the corridor and walked over. ‘You ready?’ He squeezed her shoulder. ‘You’re as white as a ghost. Don’t let nerves get to you – the COMMS Officer and I will be doing most of the talking.’

‘Perfect. DI Rutherford has thrown me under the bus.’ Maggie knew she was paying the price for revisiting The Chopper Investigation without permission. If she wasn’t more careful, Maggie could be pulled off the case for good.

She accompanied Nathan down to the lower-level conference room. It was already filling with people and Maggie could feel their eyes on her as she followed Nathan to the front. Maggie sat down and crossed her legs. Despite the size of the room, it felt claustrophobic. She was hyperaware of her surroundings. The air hung heavy with the salty smell of sweat mixed with overpowering perfume. She loosened the collar of her blouse and tried to keep her breathing at a normal pace.

Nathan called the conference to order. ‘Thank you all for coming. My name is DS Nathan Wright and to my left is my colleague, DC Maggie Jamieson and our Communications Officer. We all have busy lives, so shall we just begin? I’d like to read a brief statement and then I’ll open up questions to the floor.’ He waited while the last-minute stragglers sat, and a silence fell over the room.

Maggie heard the click click click of cameras and blinked as their lights flashed. She looked around the room and her head began to spin. Taking a big gulp of water and a few deep breaths, she waited for Nathan to begin.

‘You’ll all be aware that the partial remains recently found on the Blackwood Housing Estate belong to Ms Lorraine Rugman. Previously, we had reason to believe that Ms Rugman was murdered by Bill Raven. Mr Raven had confessed to the crime in late 2016. The pathologist’s report now confirms …’ He paused and looked around the room. ‘That Mr Raven couldn’t have physically been involved in this crime, as the pathologist estimates that the victim had been killed within at least a two-week time frame of the discovery of her remains.’

The journalists let out a collective gasp and glanced at each other in anticipation. Before Nathan could continue, a young journalist jumped in with a question.

‘DS Wright, can you tell us if you are working with Mr Raven’s solicitor to support his appeal and explain what you mean by, he was not physically involved? Do you believe that he has some involvement in the recent murder?’ He looked from Maggie to Nathan with a smirk.

‘I’m afraid I am not at liberty to discuss Mr Raven’s appeal or answer anything relating to Mr Raven specifically.’ Nathan glanced around the room and pointed at a black-haired female journalist who seemed as if she was about ready to jump out of her chair.

‘Can you tell us whether you have any suspects at this time?’ Her eyes were wide with excitement. Maggie guessed she must be new to the job.

‘We have a few people who we are keen to speak to. We’d actually like to appeal to members of the public to come forward and think back, not only over the last few months, but to 2016. Anyone with information, please contact us, even if you think it’s unimportant.’ The same journalist had an evil glint in her eye as she lined up another question.

‘One more from you before we move on and give someone else an opportunity.’ Nathan frowned.

‘This question is for DC Jamieson.’ The room turned to face Maggie. ‘How does it feel to put an innocent man behind bars?’

Maggie opened her mouth to answer, she had been prepared for this, but she couldn’t get the words out. Nathan reached across, touched her arm and interrupted.

‘Which part of we’re not discussing Bill Raven’s case did you not understand? I’m sure our COMMS Officer will be more than happy to shut down this press conference now. Is that what you want?’ Nathan nodded at the COMMS Officer.

The female reporter was not satisfied. ‘DC Jamieson, do you think you should keep your job if you let the real killer walk free while—’

‘That’s it. Enough.’ Nathan stood as the COMMS Officer terminated the conference. ‘You can all thank your colleague over there for the abrupt end to this press conference. Thank you to those who respectfully followed my instructions. Any other questions can be answered through our Communications Team.’

Maggie got up and waited for Nathan to go ahead. She maintained eye contact with the journalist who seemed hellbent on showing her up in front of everyone. The woman eventually looked away, and Maggie left the room with her head held high. As soon as they reached the stairway, out of the sight of the journalists, Maggie leant against the wall and bent over, ashen faced.

‘Are you OK? Do you want some water?’ Nathan sounded concerned.

‘Sorry. I just feel a bit faint. That reporter really had it in for me, didn’t she? Fuck sake …’

‘Don’t let her get to you. We both knew that you would be used as the fall guy … or gal.’ He winked. ‘Well, I wasn’t about to let that happen. You do know that this isn’t your fault, right?’

She took a deep breath. ‘I know. But it doesn’t make it any easier.’

Especially since I am not sure it’s true. Did I put an innocent man behind bars?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Maggie collected her thoughts before she had to re-interview some of Lorraine Rugman’s associates. All three of the women had been interviewed in 2016 following Raven’s confession and subsequent conviction, but the team agreed it was worth going over old ground to ensure nothing was missed the first time around.

The first two women had little to offer. Both had admitted to knowing Lorraine but hadn’t seen her for a few years, even before Raven’s confession. One had become stroppy during the interview saying she was ‘sick of repeating’ herself and ‘shouldn’t the police stop hassling women and start looking for the arsehole who is killing them’. She had a point.

The only new bit of information they added was the fact that Lorraine had been using just prior to her going missing, as both women often bumped into her when they were scoring heroin. She was also seen a few times on the corner of Green Avenue and Clacton Road, a known area for prostitution in Stafford. Neither could give a specific time frame, but believed it was before Raven had been convicted.

Maggie wanted to speak to the last woman on the list. Sasha Thompson had been questioned in the original Chopper Investigation and provided Adrian Harrison, Bill Raven’s associate, with his alibi. After refilling the jug of water in the interview room and making sure there were enough plastic cups, Maggie called Sasha through.

Sasha was in her early thirties. She had short, brown hair in a messy style, wasn’t very tall in stature, but had a noticeable bruise on her face, something Maggie had seen on many of the victims of domestic violence she had come across. The vacant look in her eyes, sweat and sallow skin indicated that she may be clucking due to heroin withdrawal. Maggie had come across this a few times where users dabbled for long periods, not realizing the drug had sunk its claws in. She wore baggy clothes, probably in an attempt to hide a skeletal frame.

‘I’m DC Maggie Jamieson. Do you know why we asked you to come in today, Miss Thompson?’

The woman sat, open legged, across from Maggie. ‘Yep. Something about Lorraine Rugman and my previous statement? Nasty business what happened to her, wasn’t it? What kind of psycho chops up a woman?’ Sasha’s shoulders shook and a look of disgust crossed her face.

‘Yes. Nasty indeed. Thanks for coming in. We’re trying to gather as much information as we can about Lorraine’s last known movements. I see you were interviewed just after Bill Raven confessed, back in 2016.’ Maggie looked up from her notebook. ‘Can you tell me a little bit about yourself? We don’t seem to have much from your original interview.’

Sasha shrugged. ‘I was adopted by a pair of pricks when I was three, but I probably would have been better off with my parents. After a few years of getting kicked about, Social Services took me out of that home and I was put in care where the abuse continued. I’ve been in prison a few times, as I’m sure my record shows – shoplifting, drugs, but nothing in the last ten years. That’s my life. Anything else?’

Maggie noted the track marks on Sasha’s arms and considered asking about the bruise on her face. Perhaps Maggie should report her to someone. Sasha took a sip of water, her skin pale under the strip lighting, and Maggie felt a surge of pity for her. There were so many women like this who had been dealt a bad hand of cards in life and never stood a chance. ‘If you want to talk about anything, I can put you in touch with someone.’

Sasha laughed weakly and shook her head. ‘Don’t you worry about me.’

They fell silent for a moment and Maggie glanced at the clock. ‘We really need your help with this case. Can you recall anything significant that happened in 2016 that you may have missed?’

Sasha bit her lip. ‘Not really. I spent most of that time with Adrian, off my face on drugs. In fact, I couldn’t get rid of that arsehole. He was my … business partner at the time.’

Maggie knew that Harrison dealt drugs and, given Sasha’s evasive response, Maggie figured this was the business she was referring to. ‘Care to elaborate on that, Miss Thompson? You were Mr Harrison’s alibi, weren’t you? What can you tell us about him?’

‘Actually, no. I don’t care to elaborate and yes I was, what of it? I’m not really sure what else I can add to what you lot already know. Adrian is a loser. And I mean that in the nicest way. He’s a bit of an attention seeker, but most people find him annoying. Once he likes someone, he latches on to them. Bit like a pet dog.’

‘Interesting way to describe your boyfriend.’

‘Boyfriend? Ha! Where did you get that idea? Just because you shag a guy a few times doesn’t make him your boyfriend, DC Jamieson.’

‘Oh. Your previous statement said he was your boyfriend.’

‘Well clearly that’s a mistake. He’s a friend and a boy. That’s about it.’

Maggie pulled out Sasha’s original statement and went through the rest of it with her.

‘Can you account for your whereabouts around the time just before and on the day that Miss Rugman’s remains were discovered?’

‘Is this a joke?’

‘I’m afraid not. Can you answer the question?’

‘Do I need a lawyer?’

‘I don’t know, Miss Thompson. Do you think you need one?’

‘I know what you coppers are like.’ She shifted in the seat. ‘Just covering my arse. I can tell you exactly where I was. In Manchester with some mates. I can even give you their details if you want.’ Maggie watched as she rummaged through the bag she had with her. Her hand shook as she pulled out a small, red notebook. ‘Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?’

Maggie tore a sheet from her pad and pushed it across to Sasha, with the pen she had been using.

‘What were you doing in Manchester?’

‘Catching up with friends and taking care of a little business …’ She handed Maggie the piece of paper and her pen. ‘Call them. They’ll tell you.’

‘OK. Thanks. Is there anything else you want to add?’

‘Nah.’ She bit her lip.

‘Do you have a contact number and address where we can reach you in case we have any further questions?’

‘’Fraid not. I’m sofa surfing at the moment and lost my mobile when I was in Manchester.’ She pointed to a number on the paper she had just given to Maggie. ‘Ring her if you need me, she’ll pass on any messages.’

‘Thanks for your time.’ Maggie escorted Sasha back to reception and waited as the woman signed out. ‘Here’s my card, if you need to reach me.’ Sasha pocketed the card and left the station. Maggie sighed and returned to her desk upstairs.

‘Did you get anything new to add to the investigation?’ Bethany turned her chair towards Maggie.

‘I wish. The only connection between the women and Lorraine is drugs and sex work … none of which brings us any closer to our killer.’

CHAPTER NINE

Bill Raven watched himself again on the television and smiled. I’m fucking famous. He deserved all this attention. He was dominating the television channels, and had reporters harassing the prison on a daily basis to speak with him.

Finally.

He looked at the cheap watch he had been sent by an admirer. People were sending him things regularly, they adored him. It was almost time for his medication, to keep the voices away.

Ha! The voices …

Coming off heroin in prison was hard – it wasn’t the plan, but it had to be done. Heroin, pretty much any drug, was available to him, but it countered the effects of the pills and that just wouldn’t do.

The prison psychologist wouldn’t sign him off medication supervision until Bill could demonstrate that he would stay clean. He had to prove that he would take the prescription and, truth be told, the meds calmed him down. Complete sobriety often led to him getting aggressive, and that wouldn’t do either. They couldn’t see that side of him yet. Plus, he had to stem the voices, right? The ones that made him do bad things …

Yeah, that’s what happened. He smiled to himself.

The guard came and unlocked his door. Raven smirked as the man kept his distance. He could use their fear … one day. But for now, he needed to collect his tablets before he could have a shower. He was excited. He had a big day ahead. The police would be visiting him to go over everything he remembered from his original confession. He had been waiting for this. He would tell them as much as he could, not everything of course. He had some business of his own to take care of first.

He imagined the day he would be released. With his old flat not available to him, his solicitor had said he would probably be placed in temporary accommodation while they sorted out his personal matters. When Raven was in his mid-twenties, his grandmother had sold the large home he had grown up in as she couldn’t afford the upkeep. He had fond memories of that place. He sighed. She had bought herself a more manageable property and, before any of this inconvenience, she had passed away leaving him the small bungalow in Doxley, a rural village just outside of Stafford. But there was paperwork and other matters to be dealt with before he could move in. With the money she had left him, he was going to buy himself a little van and set up his own business – a gardener, maybe. He liked working with his hands. He had a lot of plans and was looking forward to getting started. He rubbed his palms together.

When he had first been arrested, Bill had felt strangely euphoric. Fame at last! No more being the brunt of jokes, bossed about – he was the man, and everyone wanted to know his story.

Telling the police he was responsible for murdering Lorraine, Yvonne, and Zoe made him feel powerful. The look on their faces as he described what he had done. Raven licked his lips.

Being charged. Oh, they all thought they were so clever. Poor, poor Maggie. He wondered how she felt now as she watched her career falling down a black hole. He wished he could have seen her face when she first learned about his appeal.

And finally, being convicted. Seeing the look of distress on the jury’s faces as the verdict was read out. He took a deep, satisfying breath. Closed his eyes and tried desperately to recapture that feeling again.

With his appeal in place, he had access to all the paperwork that had ultimately led to his conviction. The trial hadn’t been long because he had pleaded guilty. Three women had been presumed dead and a few small bits of forensics had backed up his confession. A hair here, a droplet of blood there …

Bill did know all three women. He had met them, sold drugs to them, partied with them. Witnesses had placed him with – or in the vicinity of – all three women at some point prior to their disappearance. He’d made sure of that.

Snippets of events flashed through his brain at lightning speed.

Blood. There was blood everywhere. It covered the floor like a velvety red carpet. Dripping down the walls – slowly. He had been hypnotized by it all.

Then there were the receipts that had been recovered by the police. So clever and probably the most damning of all because he had no explanation for why he had them. Well none that he was prepared to share. Bill had been seen on CCTV purchasing a hack saw, plastic sheeting, a roll of large black bin bags and a six pack of duct tape. The receipts for all items were found in a pair of jeans he had stuffed in the back of his closet. Maybe he was going to help a friend fix his roof?

The police hounded him in interview. Interrogated him until he was so exhausted, he just admitted it all – or that’s what his solicitor now claimed had happened. Bill had been off his face and did struggle to really remember everything. That much was true. The police had a nice scenario: he had kidnapped the women, cut up and disposed of their bodies in unknown locations and then confessed because of his overwhelming guilt. That worked, and it saved him from getting caught out in his lies, though he was too clever for that really. He confessed to killing the women because he already knew they were missing … and would never be found. They may as well have been dead. But were there more? There could be more.

Bill’s psychosis was a godsend and he had his heroin and crack cocaine use to thank for that. The periodic psychotic breaks had been detailed in keywork sessions at the drug and alcohol agency he attended over the years. Not long before he confessed to the police, he had stopped taking his anti-psychotics and begun self-medicating with whatever drug he could get his hands on. He had needed to block out reality and live his fantasies. It had been too long.

The meds ruined his thoughts – he couldn’t wait to be free of them, so he could see, feel and taste the fear. The thrills were what made him feel alive.

CHAPTER TEN

Maggie embraced the silence when she got home. She chucked her coat over the railing and removed her shoes, leaving them on the small shoe rack her brother had made. Andy wasn’t due in from work for another hour and she decided to use the time to unwind. She needed to have a conversation with him and wasn’t sure where to begin.

Her brother had moved in a few months earlier after coming to Maggie with his financial problems. Maggie had agreed to pay off his heavy gambling debts to avoid further strain on his relationship with their parents. In exchange, he would do any home repairs and, in the long run, she probably got the better end of the deal.

Unbeknownst to Andy, their parents had said they were hoping to visit in a few weeks. He had done a fantastic job on redecorating the spare room, but Maggie wasn’t sure when or how she would explain to their parents the current living arrangements. Why do families have to be so complicated?

Maggie called out to Scrappy, her fiercely independent ginger cat, as she made her way into the kitchen. ‘Scrappy. Come on and get your dinner!’ No response. That’s odd. She grabbed the can opener out of the top drawer, figuring if he heard her opening a tin of food, he’d show his furry face. He didn’t.

Maggie opened the back door and looked into the garden. She grabbed her sweater from the hook and pulled on her rubber boots, making her way down the path and calling out to the pain-in-the-backside cat of hers. ‘Scraaaaappy. Here kitty cat. I have your favourite din dins.’ She tapped the tin with the opener.

When she got to the bottom of her garden, she noticed that the gate was open a crack. It was usually locked and she cursed her brother under her breath. Maggie pushed the gate closed, pulled the bolt across and made her way inside. Scooping his food into his bowl, Maggie placed it on the mat by the door and then took off her boots. There was a chill in the house, so she kept her sweater on and poured herself a glass of wine.

She ambled towards the living room and reclined in the settee, putting her feet up on the table, just as her brother came through the door.

‘Hey, did you leave the back gate unlocked?’ She called out to him.

‘Well hello to you too!’ Andy laughed.

‘Sorry. How was your day, dear brother? Did you leave the back gate unlocked?’ A smile tugged at her lips.

‘Not me. I haven’t been out there for a few days. Why? Was it open?’

‘Yeah, it’s unlocked. I noticed when I went to go look for Scrappy.’

‘That’s weird. Do you want me to check it out?’

‘Erm – police officer here … no need. I am not worried. Probably someone trying it on, or kids – you know what they can be like. You only have to reach over to unlock it. But if you have a strong padlock spare, it might be a good idea to put that on, just in case.’

‘I’ll sort it.’ He scratched his head.

‘Was Scrappy around when you left?’

‘Pretty sure he was; he usually goes out his flap when I leave. But I can’t say for definite.’

‘OK. So, how was your day?’

‘Fine. Same shit, different day. I’m thinking of maybe looking for something in the building trade. I’m getting sick of the monotony of it all in the factory and the shifts can be draining. You know how I feel about starting my own business. Any experience would be good at this stage.’ He looked deflated and Maggie frowned. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t be leaving anytime soon. Just something to think about.’

‘Phew! I had a mini panic then. There’s still so much to do on the house!’ She grinned and then fiddled with her hair. ‘Do you have a minute to chat?’

‘Sounds ominous. Let me jump in the shower and put some dinner on. Have you eaten?’

‘Not yet. What are you making?’

‘Might use up the veggies and do a stir-fry or something.’

‘Perfect! I’ll start chopping.’

He paused at the doorway. ‘About this little chat. Do I need to be worried?’

‘Don’t be silly. It’s just a conversation that we probably should have had two months ago.’ His frown deepened and she tried a reassuring smile. ‘Seriously,’ her voice sounded forced. ‘It’s nothing to worry about, now go.’ She imitated whipping a tea towel at his backside as he left the room.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Andy wouldn’t be in the shower for long and Maggie knew she had to get her words and thoughts together before she broached the subject with him. She regularly spoke to her mother on the telephone and tried to visit her parents in Glasgow at least twice a year. They understood that her job was important, and her mother had once told her how proud her father was of her – though he never told her that himself.

When it came to her brother, however, both of her parents had reached the end of their tether. Recalling her last conversation with her mother, Maggie sighed.

‘Have you forgot what he was like growing up? Always in and out of all levels of trouble. Granted, he never brought the police to the door, but he was close enough at times.’

Maggie had put the phone on speaker and carried on reading.

‘Always wanted to have the better things in life, and even though your dad and I tried our hardest, the ungrateful sod wanted more … are you listening?’

‘Yes, Mum …’

‘That brother of yours … hmph … turning to gambling and each time he won a little, he wanted more. Selfish, Maggie. Not a care in the world about any of us. And no shame in taking our money, our savings.’

Maggie could almost see her mother’s head shaking.

‘Yes, I was foolish. Giving him money behind your dad’s back. You wouldn’t believe the rows that caused when he eventually found out. Your father can’t stand the sight of him now.’

Maggie felt bad for her parents. She had always suspected their mother gave him more money than even she or their father knew about.

She shook her head and focused back on chopping the vegetables for dinner. It was about time things changed on that front. Her plan was a welcome distraction from the crap that her work life had brought with it.

Maggie was proud of Andy and how much he had turned his life around since their initial head to head a couple of months ago. He was paying off his debt, steering clear of gambling and attending Gamblers Anonymous. All of this in such a short period of time might win their parents over. Hope fluttered inside her.

She looked up and saw his gangly legs as he stomped his way down the stairs. He popped his head in the doorway, drying his hair with a towel.

‘Do I have time to make a cuppa before this lecture? Do you want one?’

She laughed. ‘Behave! It’s just a chat. And yes, I’d love a coffee.’ The wine was making her feel a little light-headed. She returned to the living room and sat down.

When he joined her, he held her coffee out, handle towards her, something he used to do as a kid to show how hard he was as the cup burned his hand. Rather than messing with him, she took the cup and thanked him.

‘OK, so …’ she took a deep breath, ‘I wanted to talk to you about Mum and Dad …’ She waited for the protestations and when none came, she went on. ‘Nothing definite at the moment but they may be coming down next month to stay—’

‘And you want me out? That’s OK, no need for any explanations. I’ll start looking in the morning.’ He pressed his lips together.

‘Fuck sake, Andy. Would you let me finish? I don’t want you out. In fact, I’m really glad that you’re here. Getting to know you after so much time apart has been nice, and the work you’ve done has probably saved me a small fortune, though maybe I shouldn’t point that out.’ She saw a smile form on his face.

‘Well, that’s good. I know I’ll eventually have to move out, but I think this is the perfect set-up for me at the minute. Your work ethic and, frankly, your bitchy attitude, and I mean that in the nicest possible way, is what’s driving me to do well for myself.’

‘Aww. Now don’t be getting soft on me. Look, I just wanted to give you enough notice and I guess I’m going to have to do the same with the folks. I don’t want to drop a bombshell on them, but they need to know. I just think that now is the time to burn down some of the barriers that have been up for far too long. I know it’s early days, but you’ve done incredibly well.’

‘Now who is getting soft …’

‘Oi! I can still kick your arse both verbally and physically if I really wanted to, never forget that.’ She raised her fist and shook it at him.

He held his hands up in surrender. ‘OK, copper. Calm down. So how are you going to approach this with Mum and Dad?’ He turned the mug in his hands and stared at the floor. ‘I’ve put them through a lot. And I’ll never be able to afford to pay them back, but maybe if my new venture works out, I can at least show willing and make a start.’

‘I think that would be a great idea, but like you said, small steps. You still have a long way to go before you can say you’ve kicked your habit, you know. Relapse usually happens when a person feels they have beat the problem.’

‘Trust me, I’m done with all that shit. I’m a whole new person. There’s no such thing as a little bet for me these days.’ He paused, caught Maggie’s eye and took a deep breath. ‘If it wasn’t for you giving me yet another chance, I’m not sure where I would be.’ His eyes glistened.

Maggie wasn’t one to handle emotion easily, especially since she rarely saw her brother cry. If her memory served her correctly the only other time she witnessed any emotion from her brother was when their grandfather died and that was twenty years ago. She immediately changed the subject. ‘Hey. Well will you look at us now. Two adults having an adult conversation. So, we’re good then? Now all I have to do is convince Mum and Dad …’

CHAPTER TWELVE

DI Abigail Rutherford looked around the open-plan office. ‘Anyone seen Maggie?’

The small team of officers that formed Staffordshire’s Major and Organised Crime Department looked at each other before DS Nathan Wright piped up. ‘I think she’s on lates today, ma’am.’

Abigail looked at her watch. ‘Damn. OK, thanks Nathan. When she gets in, can you tell her I need to see her? It’s urgent.’ The CCRC were investigating Raven’s appeal and needed to speak to Maggie.

She shook her head at the thought that Raven was now claiming that he was unlawfully arrested and imprisoned. The worst thing was he may have grounds for that appeal after all. She was under a lot of pressure both at work and at home. With her second divorce looming, her head was a mess. Her only saving grave was that she’d never had children with either of her husbands. She couldn’t think about that now. Instead, Raven’s situation and the predicament her team currently found themselves in had to take priority.

Abigail was torn between viewing Raven as a potentially dangerous offender and needing to keep an open mind that he could be acquitted and released.

She loaded up the details on her computer and began to trawl through the original statements taken by Maggie. She had no doubt that Maggie did everything by the book, and as the Crown Prosecution Service, or CPS as they are better known to those in the criminal justice services, believed there had been enough evidence to charge and convict Bill Raven, she had no cause to be concerned. At least she hoped she didn’t. But she also knew that if Maggie let her obsession with Raven continue, it could lead the whole department into a nightmare.

She was startled by a knock on her door and nearly jumped out of her seat. Seeing Nathan, she smiled.

‘Sorry, ma’am. Maggie texted to say she’s meeting up with some of her old colleagues from the DAHU – sorry, Domestic Abuse and Homicide Unit – and then heading to the Crown Courts to speak with someone in the CPS.’

‘Did she say who? Or why?’ Abigail frowned.

‘Sorry, ma’am. She didn’t. Do you want me to get back to her and ask?’

‘No. That’s fine. I’ll speak to her.’

Although Maggie needed some time to readjust, Abigail wouldn’t tolerate having her instructions ignored. Their DCI was already on the warpath for reasons yet unknown to her and he’d come down on her like a ton of bricks if she didn’t keep her team in line. The Chopper case had almost destroyed Maggie the first time around, and Abigail wouldn’t let it happen again. Reaching for her phone, she dialled the only person at the CPS she knew to have any influence and hoped that Maggie got the message.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Maggie arrived at Markston train station with plenty of time before her planned meeting with PC Mark Fielding and Probation Officer Lucy Sherwood. As annoying as it could be to take public transport, it also helped clear her head.

Mark still worked with the domestic abuse team, but Maggie knew he was spending more and more of his time at the haven Lucy had set up for victims of domestic abuse after her own personal experiences the year before. Maggie loved the name – SAFE – it stood for Strength. Acceptance. Freedom and Empowerment. Maggie still shuddered at the thought of what Lucy had endured.

She missed working with the domestic abuse team, even if it had been draining. Walking through town, Maggie headed in the direction of Costa. She ordered a cappuccino with an extra shot, grabbed a table outside and enjoyed the feel of the sun on her face. She pulled out her mobile and began scrolling through the news on the internet. When she saw the headline ‘Raven’s Appeal Makes a Mockery of the Police’ and read the section outlining her incompetency, she wished she had not bothered. All the papers seemed to follow along the same theme. Maggie bet that Raven was feeding them information, as none of what she read had been discussed in the press conference.

Looking around, she saw two figures she instantly recognized. Maggie waved as they approached the table.

‘Hello! It’s so great to see you both.’ Maggie stood and hugged Mark and Lucy before sitting back down.

‘Are you okay for a coffee, Maggie?’ Mark pointed to her half-drunk cup on the table.

‘I’m good for now, thanks.’

‘What are you having, Lucy? I’ll get these in and you two can have a catch-up.’ Mark smiled and affection glowed in Lucy’s eyes.

‘Cappuccino, please.’ Lucy pulled up a chair, so she could face Maggie.

As Mark walked away, Maggie grinned. ‘So, is there something I should know?’

Lucy waved her hand. ‘Don’t be silly. Mark and I are just friends.’

‘You do remember I am a detective, right? I won’t interrogate you, this time …’

‘I like Mark. I’m not going to lie, but I’m just not ready at the moment. Not after … well, you know.’

Maggie placed a hand gently over Lucy’s. ‘I was just teasing. For what it’s worth, I think you and Mark would make a great couple. Just promise you’ll let me know when it does happen.’ Maggie winked and saw the corners of Lucy’s mouth turn up in a smile.

‘Right then, here’s your cappuccino.’ Mark took a seat beside them. ‘So, what’s been happening since we last saw you, Maggie? The Chopper’s appeal sounds like a nightmare.’ Mark placed his coffee on the table.

Maggie didn’t want word getting back to DI Rutherford that she was still following up on things outside of the current investigation. ‘It looks like Lorraine might have been held captive for nearly two years. The other women could still be alive, too.’ Maggie took a sip of her cappuccino. ‘Raven has a clever solicitor trying to make a name for himself, and he managed to convince the CCRC that Raven was not of sound mind when he confessed. We have about six weeks until his next appeal hearing. With the latest murder, the conviction may well be overturned. There’s obviously more to the story, but that’s the basics.’

‘Holy shit. The other women, the ones he also claimed to have murdered, might still be captive somewhere? So, Raven does have grounds for his appeal? But you’re not convinced, are you?’

‘The CCRC are going through everything with a fine-tooth comb. I’d rather not talk about it. What’s been happening at the unit. How’s everyone?’

‘Well Kat is looking to become a detective. She signed up to the accelerated programme and seems to be enjoying it. She’ll need to watch that mouth of hers though. Her brutal honesty will be her downfall if she’s not careful.’ Both Maggie and Lucy nodded agreement.

‘What about DS Hooper? He must be close to retirement now.’ Maggie recalled how keen the DS had been to leave the police after his years of service.

‘As he reminds us every bloody day with his countdown calendar. He’s saving up his annual leave and I think he only has a month or two left. Lucky bastard.’

‘I thought you liked working for the police?’ She looked him in the eyes, knowing she would see the truth no matter what came out of his mouth.

‘I do. But sometimes I just want a change. And with Hooper leaving, God knows who’ll replace him. Lucy did the right thing when she left her full-time position with Probation. At least with the agency work, she gets to pick and choose her hours.’

The quick glance over at Lucy was not lost on Maggie.

Mark continued, ‘I’ll carry on in the unit but keep my options open.’

‘Definitely the right thing to do. How’s Dr Moloney?’ Maggie hoped no one would notice the heat rising in her cheeks.

‘Busy but OK, I guess. A little stressed, what with all the profiles she is putting together on our nominals. Have you not seen her?’ Mark caught her eye.

‘Uh … no. Why?’ Maggie swallowed.

‘Just thought you might have, what with all that Raven stuff going on.’ Another look passed between Lucy and Mark.

‘You pair want to tell me what is going on? I can see the looks, you’re sitting right in front of me.’ Maggie sat back in her chair and crossed her arms.

‘It’s nothing. We know that you and Kate worked well together when you were in the unit. We just thought you’d have kept in touch.’ Lucy smiled, like butter wouldn’t melt.

Maggie took a sip of her coffee. ‘I’ve been meaning to have a proper catch-up, but if you say she’s stressed, then maybe I should leave it.’

‘I should be seeing her later. How about I tell her you’d like to catch-up? She has your number, right? She can call you then when she is a little less under pressure.’

‘Sounds good.’ Looking at her watch, Maggie knew if she didn’t get the next train back to Stafford, she would miss the opportunity to talk to her contact in the CPS. ‘Right. It’s been lovely, but I need to get back.’ After hugging them, Maggie picked up her bag and headed to the train station.

I have a few questions and there’s no way I am going to let the prosecution service wriggle out of answering them …

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Arriving in Stafford, Maggie stopped at the Starbucks in the station and grabbed an Americano. She hadn’t been sleeping well and needed more caffeine in her system to face the long shift she had ahead of her today.

The courts were busy when she arrived. Maggie made her way to the CPS offices and was greeted by one of those receptionists whose smile never reaches her eyes.

‘Can I help you?’ Maggie cringed at the sound of the receptionist’s whiny voice. She barely glanced at Maggie before returning to her computer.

‘Please could I speak to the prosecutor in Bill Raven’s case?’

There was a long pause as the receptionist continued typing on her keyboard. Eventually she paused and looked up. ‘Do you have an appointment?’

Maggie had to take a deep breath. ‘No. I’m with the police – DC Maggie Jamieson.’ She reached into her pocket and took out her card, thunked it hard on the counter.

As if it was contaminated, the woman moved the card closer with two fingers. ‘I’m afraid you still need an appointment. We’re very busy.’

Maggie looked around at the empty hallway. She gripped the desk and her knuckles began to whiten. ‘I don’t need long. Can you just call up and see if he has a few minutes … please?’ Maggie returned the fake smile she got earlier.

‘Well … I’ll try. But I wouldn’t hold your breath.’ The woman punched three numbers onto her telephone keypad and looked at her nails while she waited. ‘Good morning, sir, I have a DC Maggie Jamieson here and she said she’d like a quick word. Do you have time?’ Again, she looked at her nails, and Maggie wished she could hear the other side of the conversation. ‘Hmm … uh huh … OK. Yes, I’ll tell her.’

Maggie straightened her blouse, waiting for the woman to buzz her through.

‘I’m sorry. He’s very busy. He can’t see you today but suggested that you make an appointment and he’ll talk to you then.’ She looked down at an open diary. ‘I have a free slot next Thursday then another—’

‘Never mind. I’ll catch him another time. Thank you for trying.’ Maggie did her best to contain her anger. She’d never had a problem speaking to the prosecutor before; he always made time to see her. What the hell was going on?

The woman responded with her fake smile again. ‘OK, thanks for coming by. Have a nice day.’

Maggie clenched her fists as she left the office. She wondered if DI Rutherford had warned him not to speak with her.

The ten-minute walk around to Stafford Police Station served to make a slight dent in her anger. She needed to keep it in check. Although she respected her boss, there was an air of condescension about her that ruffled more than just Maggie’s feathers.

Maggie climbed the stairs to the second floor and chucked her jacket over her chair. Just as her computer booted up, DI Rutherford called her over to her office.

‘Yes, ma’am. Coming.’ Maggie let out a sigh and slouched over, opened the door and took a seat in front of Rutherford’s desk.

‘Maggie. Did you have a good morning?’

‘I did. I had a few hours before my shift started and went across to Markston.’

‘Yes … I heard. Did you stop by anywhere else? And Maggie, think about your answer.’ The DI glared as she tapped her desk. Maggie sat up in the chair and noticed the dark lines of exhaustion on Rutherford’s face.

So, she had spoken to the prosecutor. ‘Yes, ma’am. I stopped by the courts. I wanted to speak to the CPS, to see if they had anything useful for the current investigation.’

‘Ah. Just for the current investigation then? You know, if I find out you’re doing anything to jeopardize this case – like going on a wild goose chase against Raven, for instance – I’ll have your head on a plate.’

‘Yes.’

‘We have a briefing in an hour and I expect you to be there, focused, having left your views on Raven outside the room. Do you understand?’ DI Rutherford gave her a look that was more than a warning – it was a threat.

‘I do. May I go now? I’ve a lot to do before the briefing.’

‘Of course. And Maggie …’

‘Yes?’

‘Someone from the CCRC wants to speak with you today at 4 p.m. Don’t be late.’ The DI sighed as she looked towards the ceiling.

Maggie responded through gritted teeth. ‘I won’t, ma’am. Thank you.’

She turned abruptly on her heels and left the room. Touching the base of her neck, Maggie squeezed and felt the tension release. At her desk, Maggie took her keys out of her pocket and opened the cabinet that was tucked underneath. Fingering through the files, she went to the very back and pulled out the one labelled ‘THE CHOPPER’.

DI Rutherford had said to leave her thoughts out of the room – she didn’t specify which room.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

After going through her private file on the original Chopper case, Maggie sat back to gaze out of the window. DI Rutherford had a bite that would scare off even the most hardened criminal, but she was also the loudest to cheer and give praise to those who deserved it. Maggie had heard rumours that she was in the midst of a second divorce after she found her husband cheating on her. Apparently, he couldn’t cope with the long hours she put in at the office which left little time to think about starting a family. It was no wonder her boss looked tired. With everything that was going on in her personal life and now the CCRC scrutinizing the original case file … Maggie’s shoulders tightened. The MOCD’s reputation – her own reputation – could be on the line.

‘Penny for your thoughts.’ She looked up and saw DS Nathan Wright.

‘Sorry Nathan, I was miles away. Just thinking about the review commission and what they might find.’ Maggie cleared her throat.

‘Don’t worry. You worked hard on that case and you’re meticulous. There’s no way you screwed this up, trust me.’ He gave her shoulder a squeeze.

‘I wish I had your faith. I worked some ridiculously long hours at the time. What if I missed something?’ Maggie swallowed.

‘The CPS agreed that the evidence pointed at Raven. You didn’t prosecute the case, the CPS did, so if there are any doubts, it should be them that needs to worry. If they had any questions about the evidence, it was down to them to get the answers.’

‘When did you become so wise?’ Maggie smiled.

He shrugged and gave Maggie’s shoulder another reassuring squeeze, then walked back to his desk.

Maggie pulled up the details of her interview with Bill Raven on her computer and went through it thoroughly. One of Raven’s points of appeal related to insisting he was pressured into answering. Maggie noted numerous breaks in the interviews where she had asked how he was doing and neither he nor his solicitor had made an objection. Maggie also came across a point where she had commented on his state of mind. Again, no objection or concern from his solicitor.

‘Is that a smile I see on your face?’ Nathan called out from his office.

‘I’ve just read the statements and there’s no way I was at fault here.’ She bit her lip.

‘Exactly. See what I mean, you’re shit hot on details. Wish I could say the same about me!’

Maggie laughed. Nathan was a ‘by the book’ officer, but his notes could do with some work. She frequently felt he was her moral compass. Whenever she was unsure of something, she often thought to herself what would Nathan do? Though she would never tell him that.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Maggie headed upstairs to meet with Donald Stanford from the CCRC. She wiped her hands on her trousers before knocking on the door. Her nerves were on the verge of exploding.

‘Come in.’ The deep bellowing voice did nothing to set her mind at ease.

‘Hello, sir. DC Maggie Jamieson.’ She held out her hand, waiting for him to shake it.

The man stood and extended his arm. ‘Pleased to meet you. Can I call you Maggie? And please, call me Don. Make yourself comfortable.’

‘Thank you.’ She took a seat across from him.

‘I take it you know why you’re here? Your DI should have explained the process, that way we can just get on with things and I won’t have to keep you from work.’

Maggie nodded.

‘Good. I’ve read all the statements taken from the moment Bill Raven was arrested and subsequently charged. I have to say, you seem to be very detailed, Maggie.’ He smiled smugly.

‘Thank you. I try to ensure that all bases are covered.’ Maggie forced herself to smile back.

‘Yes, you do.’

‘Is there a problem?’ She was a bit surprised by the frown on his face.

‘Err, well …’ He leaned forward. ‘I wouldn’t say a problem, but I did come across something of interest.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Mr Raven was questioned a few times, for long but manageable periods. You seem to take great care about his well-being, making sure he was comfortable.’

‘Yes …’ Maggie felt a bead of sweat run down her spine.

‘During the second interview,’ he turned his laptop towards Maggie. Pointed to a paragraph. ‘Could you read that section for me?’

Maggie leaned forward and scanned over the text, then nodded when she’d finished. Damn!

She’d wait to hear what he had to say before responding.

He spun the laptop towards himself. ‘Mr Raven tells you that he stole a pig, killed it, collected its blood and brought it back to his flat. Did you investigate that claim further?’

Maggie swallowed. ‘I’d have to check my notes, but as far as I can remember, we didn’t. When Bill Raven was arrested, the duty GP was concerned that he may have been suffering from drug-induced psychosis. His behaviour was erratic. One moment he was lucid, the next he was rambling about nonsense. The GP gave him meds and said we could interview him. When he fed us that story about stealing a pig, we believed it was a psychotic episode. If you look at the transcript, he starts talking about blood dripping from the ceiling, the way it looked under the glare of the lights, what it felt like to walk barefooted through pools of blood. Then he gets increasingly distressed and starts making strange noises, shouting, grunting and squealing like a pig.’ Maggie took a sip of water and tried not to think about those initial interviews and the long hours she spent with him, listening to his every word. ‘I’m sure you’ve noted I stopped to ask him if he was OK. Our reason for not wasting time on pursuing that point was the fact that no one reported a missing or stolen pig. As you can see from the interview, Mr Raven mentioned the pig and then moved on to something else entirely.’

‘Yes, he did. However, just prior to his appeal – around a month ago now – it seems further tests were undertaken, and that Mr Raven did indeed, at some point, have pig blood in his flat. You see, despite the initial tests finding nothing, a piece of wood was retested, and a small droplet had not been affected by the cleaning agent he had used.’ He raised his eyebrows and continued. ‘Not only that, but when we checked the records, a local farmer had reported the theft of a pig.’ He stopped there and Maggie sat back in her chair.

There was a long moment of silence and Maggie felt her hand begin to tremble. ‘With all due respect, sir, that offence would have been dealt with by another team. There was more than enough other circumstantial evidence that led us to believe Raven was guilty – his confession for one.’

‘DC Jamieson …’ Maggie shifted uncomfortably in her seat as he leaned forward. ‘Mr Raven alleges that he tried to tell you about the pig incident numerous times, to explain why there was blood in his flat, but you dismissed it. Because he was so tired, after hours of interrogation, he felt the only way that you would relent would be to admit to everything.’

Maggie let out a bitter laugh. Her hands balled into fists and she could feel the heat rise on her neck. ‘The statements are all there. Are you insinuating that I doctored evidence? We wouldn’t have known about the murder, or the missing women, if not for Mr Raven coming to the police station and confessing.’

‘Please. Calm down.’ He raised his hands in a patronizing manner. ‘I’m not saying you doctored evidence at all. However, Mr Raven claims he told you things … in private …’

‘I can assure you – if Mr Raven ever said anything to me in private, it would have been recorded in my notebook and then transferred onto the system. It just didn’t happen.’

‘Well, that’s what we’re here to—’

‘I’m sorry,’ Maggie cut him off. ‘This is getting ridiculous. I thought this would be more objective but you’re all playing into Raven’s hands. He must be laughing in his cell right now. I’ll admit, I underestimated him, but he is involved in these crimes.’

‘Maggie, don’t—’

‘And if you don’t start focusing, more people are going to die. I’m through answering your questions without my union representative.’ Maggie stood and picked up her bag, then stalked from the room without another word.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Bill had heard voices for as long as he could remember. It had started with the weed, but he’d graduated to heroin and other class A drugs just before his eighteenth birthday. The whispers had only got worse. His parents were so fucked on crack that they barely noticed; his mother a schizo like him who never went to her appointments. Bill was raised off and on by his grandmother from the age of nine, and she was the only person who made him feel loved. He missed her home, his childhood home. So many happy memories, all lost when she had to sell it and move into a smaller place. She had died before any of the crimes came to light and he attended her funeral knowing that she would never learn of this period in his life. One day he would be free to leave flowers on her grave.

Whenever things had become too much, and the cravings returned, he thought about his waste-of-space mother. The beatings, the way she leaned close and screamed, spittle showering his face …

‘So how has everything been since my last visit, Mrs Raven?’ The woman looked around the room and must have noticed the dirty walls and smell from the couch as she rubbed her nose.

‘Just great. He’s been a good boy, haven’t you darlin’?’ He flinched when she tried to ruffle his hair.

‘Really? Only the school have been in touch …’ The woman frowned as Bill crawled with embarrassment into the corner. ‘One of his teachers told me that Bill smelled funny, like he never washed, and they had seen nasty bruises on his legs and arms.’

His mother glared at him before turning around and flashing a smile at the social worker. ‘There must be some mistake.’ She looked at the broken watch she wore on her wrist. ‘Oh, is that the time? We’ll have to reschedule as Billy has an appointment and we can’t be late.’ His mother pointed at the door.

The social worker left reluctantly, glancing back at Bill and smiling. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

All hell broke loose when his mother came back into the room.

‘You little piece of shit. Are you trying to get me in trouble?’ She poked him in his chest, but he didn’t understand why. He never did.

‘I … I didn’t say anything, Mum … I swear.’ He clenched his hands repeatedly.

‘You fucking little liar. Dirty, piece of shit. I should throw you out with the rubbish. That’s all you are, a piece of dirty trash. The rats can have you.’ And then the blows came, raining down on him until his mother had exhausted herself and needed her drink or drugs, whatever she had in the house.

Bill dragged himself up the stairs, into his bedroom where he lay on the floor. Shivering cold. His mother never washed or changed the sheets on his bed. The smell of piss burned his nose.

One day she would see who the piece of trash was.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Bill was looking forward to his meeting with the police today. He specifically requested DC Maggie Jamieson, someone he had spent a lot of time thinking about. She was a fascinating and worthy opponent and he couldn’t wait to watch her squirm. He remembered their first interviews together and the way she tapped her pen when she was thinking about something. How she delicately placed her hair behind her ear. He smiled. He knew what perfume she liked to wear and what she smelt like after a day of interviews in a small prison cell. He rarely had any memorable visitors, or any real mental stimulation, so he was going to savour this.

He looked at his reflection in the stained mirror screwed to the wall. Ran his fingers through his hair with a smile. He wished he could have worn the new suit he had purchased for his court appearances. Smart, equal to his visitors. But he would have to make do with his new haircut and freshly shaven face. He wondered if Maggie would recognize him and be impressed by the effort he had made for her. Gone was the gaunt unhealthily thin heroin addict he had been. Time spent eating starchy prison food and going to the gym had soon sorted him out. He had taught himself to speak properly. Listening to his psychiatrist’s posh accent. Watching television programmes and mimicking the voices. He liked the way he looked and sounded now and the way that people glanced at him. They respected him, feared him, maybe even admired him.

He gathered together his appeal paperwork, rehearsed his arguments again in his head. Imagined Maggie leaning closer across the table in the interview room. Thought about her begging him to drop his appeal, imagined reducing her to tears, ending her career. Walking to his bed, he crouched down and left the psychological reports under his pillow. If they wanted to look into the darkness of his mind, they’d have to do that homework themselves.

Bill enjoyed games, especially those that fucked with people’s minds. He was smarter than them all and he’d had longer to prepare.

He sat crossed-legged on the floor, completely still, controlling his breathing as he waited for the guard to come and retrieve him. He stared up through the prison bars, biding his time until he was free again. Eventually the guard called his name and led him towards the legal visit area. As he passed the other inmates they hooted and banged against the bars of their cells. Those on the landing moved out of his way and lowered their gaze as he passed. The officer brought him to a room, and he sat at a table to wait for Maggie.

After a few moments, he saw her through the room’s plexiglass windows and he took a sharp intake of breath. He hadn’t realized what it would be like to see her after all this time. He felt himself stiffen.

Bill stood as the door opened. Electricity coursed through his veins. Breathe, Billy-boy. You need to keep calm. He took a deep breath and counted to ten as DC Jamieson entered the room.

‘Where’s DI Rutherford? Will she not be joining us?’ He rubbed his hands together.

‘The DI is on her way. Why don’t you have a seat, Mr Raven.’

She seemed to be trying to hide her fear under a mask of confidence, but he could see right through it. Just like he could with the guards. He watched her closely as she pointed to the plastic water jug on the table.

‘Would you like a drink?’ She began to pour herself a cup and raised her eyebrows waiting for his answer. He thought he saw her lip twitch.

‘Yes, please. The new medication I’m on can leave my mouth very dry.’ He licked his lips slowly and she looked away. ‘You’re looking very thin these days, DC Jamieson. I hope this situation is not the cause.’

Maggie ignored the comment and sat down across from him. She took a pad and pen out of her pocket. She began to fidget with her notebook. Just as he was about to say something, DI Rutherford entered the room.

‘Good morning, Mr Raven. Hello DC Jamieson. Shall we just get started? Where’s your solicitor?’ DI Rutherford walked quickly inside. Raven knew he would need to watch this one.

‘As I’m helping you with your enquiries, and not being interrogated, I told him not to join us. I hope I’m not wrong.’ Raven smiled. ‘I’m happy to get started. I wouldn’t want to keep you any longer than necessary. After all, you have a killer to catch, don’t you?’ He laughed.

The DI frowned.

‘Something funny, Mr Raven? There are families who want answers and the public want to feel safe again. I don’t think this is anything to smile about, do you?’ The DI stared at him.

He folded his hands together before answering. ‘Oh, it’s no laughing matter. I’m so sorry if my facial expressions annoy you, but as I explained to your colleague earlier …’ He took a sip of water. ‘Sometimes my medications can play havoc with my feelings. I was smiling at the fact that I’m here to help bring the real killer to justice.’

Maggie squinted and eyed him cautiously.

DI Rutherford leaned in. ‘Mr Raven, you said you wanted to help us with our investigation, so do you have some information to pass on? I have to admit, I wasn’t too keen on this meeting, but your solicitor convinced my DCI that this is an avenue we should explore. Please,’ she stressed, ‘do not waste our time.’

‘No time will be wasted. I can assure you. I’m here to help – you know that – so should we start from the beginning?’

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Maggie refused to look away from Raven; his soulless eyes would not haunt her this time. Her leg shook restlessly under the table. DI Rutherford would be pissed off if Maggie hijacked the interview.

‘I’ve had a lot of time to clear my head in here,’ Raven said, as his eyes flicked over Maggie. ‘A lot of time to think. Can you imagine what it’s like to be kept in a cell on your own for a crime you didn’t commit? Ridiculed by the media and disowned by your friends?’ He leaned back in his seat and spread his legs wide, that smile that Maggie hated creeping across his face. ‘It’s taken me this long to recover, for the medication to start working, for the heroin and crack cravings to die down. Only in the past month have I started to piece together what happened.’

Maggie clenched her fist under the table, but she couldn’t stop herself from replying.

‘Mr Raven,’ Maggie spoke firmly, ‘we won’t ask you again. Rather than carry on with this ridiculous charade, do you have anything useful to share with us?’

‘Is she always this rude, DI Rutherford?’

Maggie wanted to reach across and punch Raven in his smug face.

‘DC Jamieson’s question is a valid one, Mr Raven, so answer it.’

Maggie couldn’t hide her pleasure at her superior’s support.

He sneered. ‘I do know things. Lots of things. When I was having my episodes, I believed that I was committing horrible crimes, that I was some sort of monster incapable of human empathy, that all I wanted to do was walk barefoot through pools of blood.’ He caught Maggie’s eye and smiled. ‘But – I know now – that it wasn’t me. Maybe I heard something, or witnessed something, and it traumatized me. That happens you know.’

Maggie leaned forward. She decided to take a different tack. ‘Take your time. What horrible things do you remember?’

He rubbed his temples. ‘It’s difficult to recall. Do you think someone could have told me what they did? Confessed to me in secret. With all the drugs I was taking, maybe I just internalized their story?’

‘I suppose that could be possible. Do you have any idea who might have told you such a story?’

‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could remember, DC Jamieson? Wouldn’t you just love to be able to reach back into your mind and remember everything in perfect detail? I could go back to the first time we met, that red jacket you were wearing, how you had just been for a haircut, how you had slept badly and forgotten to iron your shirt, how—’

‘Enough.’ DI Rutherford scowled. ‘Stick to the question.’

Maggie swallowed and felt cold fear wash over her. He smiled and leaned back in his chair. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t commit these crimes. Surely even you can understand that Lorraine was murdered while I was in prison?’

Maggie’s fear turned to anger, and she could no longer contain herself. ‘Let’s say I am buying this bullshit. If what you say is true – reach into those memories of yours and tell me how you knew Lorraine’s name when you initially confessed.’

‘Maybe I was hallucinating, or it came to me in a dream.’ He smirked.

‘And what makes you so sure these were hallucinations not memories? I think you’re lying and you’re doing a really shit job of it. I think you abducted those women, but you couldn’t even finish the job. You had to get someone to take over and kill them for you.’ Maggie grinned at him. ‘Is that it? Is someone else pulling the strings here? Pulling your strings?’ Raven’s hand clenched, and Rutherford kicked Maggie under the table.

‘I’m sure that what DC Jamieson is trying to say,’ Rutherford smiled, ‘is how can we use your memories to find out the identity of the killer?’

Maggie could see a nerve twitching in Raven’s neck.

‘No one pulls my strings, DC Jamieson, not unless I want them to.’ He smiled that sickly smile again. ‘The problem is, and this must be such a drag, my solicitor has lodged a successful appeal and now the CCRC is going to be all over you. I thought I might help you find the killer, but now you’ve insulted me I’m not even sure I want to anymore. I think it’s time you go, officers …’ He dismissed them with a flick of his hand, as if they were his servants.

Maggie laughed. ‘Suit yourself, but don’t get your hopes up about that appeal. I’ll find out the truth.’ She had made him show his true colours. The Raven she knew.

‘Look, Mr Raven, I’m happy to continue this discussion one on one. DC Jamieson, can you please leave the room?’

Maggie wasn’t at all surprised and knew she had crossed the line, but it was worth it. ‘Yes, ma’am.’ She collected her things and left the interview room. As she shut the door his cold laugh rang out and a shiver went up her spine.

Maggie headed down the corridor towards the exit, now even more determined to find the evidence she needed. She took her bag and phone from the locker and stopped in the bathroom on her way out, to scrub her hands with the cheap soap. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, rubbing her tired eyes.

Outside the prison, she paced up and down and waited for DI Rutherford to finish. She took out her phone and typed a number, stared at the screen for a few seconds before deleting it. After a moment, she sighed and rekeyed the number again, hit the call button and listened to the dial tone, waiting for the one person who may be able to help.

‘Doctor Moloney speaking.’

‘Kate!’ Maggie felt something like relief. ‘How are you?’ She could almost hear the smile in Kate’s voice.

‘Maggie! What a wonderful surprise. To what do I owe this pleasure?’

‘I need to pick your brains and I’m hoping you have some free time this week. I can even meet you after work if it’s easier?’

‘Are you coming to the Domestic Abuse Forum on Friday?’

‘Yes.’ Maggie had nearly forgotten. Despite no longer being a part of their team, her knowledge of the cases made her the perfect police representative at the monthly meetings.

‘Excellent. How about after that? We could grab a bite to eat?’

‘That’s perfect.’ Maggie ran a hand through her hair. ‘And … I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us for the time being.’

‘My lips are sealed.’

‘Looking forward to seeing you on Friday.’ Maggie couldn’t help but smile as she disconnected the call. Dr Moloney was not only intelligent; she was one of the few people whose company Maggie genuinely enjoyed. She texted DI Rutherford to let her know she was in the café across the street and mentally began to collate everything she would need to get from her computer for her meeting with Kate.

We’ll see who has the last laugh, Raven.

CHAPTER TWENTY

He leaned across the table and smiled inwardly as he watched the DI slowly move back in her chair, listening to what he had to say, hanging on every word.

‘OK, now let’s take this back to the beginning. Where did all the blood come from in your flat when you were arrested?’

‘This is all in the case records. But because you asked me so nicely, it was no secret that Lorraine would come over to my flat. Adrian and I were selling drugs to keep our own habit going. Accidents happen … so it wouldn’t be surprising to find someone else’s blood in our flat. We used needles, burned shit, including ourselves. People fall over, bang their heads. Have you ever watched someone take heroin? Junkies are not the most coordinated.’

‘I didn’t ask about Lorraine’s blood. I asked about the blood in your flat when it was searched. Let’s try and keep to the current conversation or we’ll end up going in circles and neither of us want to waste any more time, do we?’

He tutted. ‘We both know that there was little to no evidence of human blood. I remember cleaning the flat – it was dirty, so dirty – normal bleach wasn’t getting out all the stains. I used oxygen bleach, you see, because it cleans much better …’

‘Mr Raven, what could you possibly be cleaning with that much bleach?’

‘The pig’s blood. Have you even read the case files? Why won’t you listen?’

‘How did it get there?’

‘When I killed the pig. I have a fascination with blood, always have. It’s beautiful don’t you think? It’s clean, completely pure. I love the way it runs down a wall and collects in bright red pools. How thick it is sometimes, but how it can also flow like water.’ He closed his eyes. ‘But things got out of hand – what more can I say? Now who is going in circles? In fact, you’re boring me. I’m done with this.’

Before DI Rutherford could continue, Bill stood and motioned to the guard. He laughed when he saw the expression on her face.

If only she knew what really happened.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Yvonne

She trembled on the cold, thin mattress as she listened for footsteps above. She had to strain to hear anything with the cloth bag over her head and her ears covered. Yvonne had no idea now how long she had been in the cellar, but the drugs were wearing off and she was desperate for another hit. It was like she was coming up for air after swimming deep underwater, but the air was poisoned, and all she wanted to do was to take another dive. To forget how weak and starving she was. How her skin covered her bones like cling film, how every bone jutted out as she slowly wasted away.

She didn’t remember much about the night this all began, but she’d spent a lot of time reliving it in technicolour detail. She had been invited to a party – a friend of a friend type of invite.

What kind of party is this? Taxi paid for. Booze free. Gear free.

Alarm bells should have rung there and then, but she was too set on getting off her face, so she ignored any niggles of doubt.

The rest of the night was a blur of booze, drugs, dancing and sex – in that order. Yvonne made the mistake of letting her guard down and when she woke up, she was here, head covered, ears taped over, hands and legs tied to the uncomfortable bed. What felt like days passed before anyone came down to see her. The visits were few and far between. She had learned to hold in her piss or risk wetting herself until the person came to change the bedpan or the rare moment she was taken to the toilet, and given the vile tasting water to drink along with a piece of bread. Sometimes she was lucky and got a slice of meat – rancid meat, but it still tasted better than nothing.

She shivered. How much time had passed since she was taken? She thought about her mum and her daughter, about whether they would remember her. Did they still live in the same house? Did they still wonder if she was alive?

Has her daughter lost her first tooth? She could remember her big smile and that curly hair. A tear trickled down her face. Maybe her own mother was relieved. She’d always told Yvonne how her child would be better off without a druggie as a mum.

Enough. She didn’t want to think anymore.

She needed a hug. Even though she couldn’t see, she still looked around, listening for the other women. They weren’t allowed to speak, but sometimes when they were alone, they would mumble comforting noises to each other in the dark.

The women must be locked away in the bathroom. If they disobeyed their captor, one would be confined in there, chained to the radiator and gagged, forced to crouch on the tiled floor for days.

There was a loud bang from upstairs and her heart skipped a beat. They’re back. Her body shook, not out of fear, but because she knew the person would have some gear and she could once again wrap herself up in a blanket of peace.

She heard the heavy dragging sound, the one that let her know someone would be coming down the stairs. Then the creak of the door and sweat started to run like a river on her neck in anticipation. Her eyes were covered, but she could still see shadows. She didn’t speak. The last time she did, a sock or something similar had been rammed into her mouth and stuck in her throat.

With each step there was a bump on the stair, as if they were dragging something behind them. Out of the corner of her eye, Yvonne could see the figure bending over, placing things on the floor beside her cot. A shiver of fear crept along her spine.

The person never spoke, but sometimes there was that horrible smell, a strong cologne of some kind. She didn’t know whether it was one person or many different people and that made her even more scared. Their captor would not connect with her on any level. Maybe that meant they would let her go. Her head told her not to get her hopes up, but her heart wanted to believe she still had a chance.

Their captor approached her, and she felt the cold, sharp edge of a knife against her throat. She knew that was the warning: Do as you’re told or you’ll get hurt. She had stopped fighting long ago.

Her hands were untied and then the figure moved to her legs. Once the restraints had been removed, the figure pulled her over to whatever had been spread across the floor. Her bones cracked. She was pushed down onto her knees and a nudge in the back told her she needed to lie forward. Her muscles spasmed as she was roughly flipped onto her back, too weak to care what would be happening next. A band was tied around her arm and, with a rush of relief, she felt the familiar prick of the needle as it pierced her skin.

No matter what happens now, at least she would feel at peace.

She didn’t even feel the knife being driven into her chest or care when she heard the snipping sound as her arm was removed from her body.