DI Sean Corrigan Crime Series: 6-Book Collection: Cold Killing, Redemption of the Dead, The Keeper, The Network, The Toy Taker and The Jackdaw

He poured an inch of rum into the glass and rolled it around. He put the glass tentatively to his lips and drank a quarter of it in one go. It was a lot for him. The back of his throat burned painfully, but he enjoyed the warmth of the liquid.

He reached forward for his desk phone. He needed to call Kate. His ringing mobile stopped him. He answered sounding tired and dispirited.

‘Guv. It’s Jean Colville.’ DS Jean Colville was running the relief surveillance team, brought in to cover while DS Handy’s team regrouped and licked their collective wounds. ‘Thought you’d like to know your man just arrived home like nothing happened.’

Sean sprang to his feet as if suddenly standing to attention. ‘What’s he wearing?’ he asked.

‘Suit and tie,’ Jean answered.

‘How’s he look?’

‘Fine. Normal I guess.’ She sounded puzzled.

‘Okay,’ Sean said. He checked his watch. Damn. Half his team would be semi-drunk by now, the other half would have headed off towards whichever corner of London they lived in. Had there been time since he went missing for Hellier to find a victim, kill and return home as if nothing had happened? Sean doubted it. No, this evening he’d been up to something else. Better to let the team rest for a while. What more could he lose?

‘I need you to keep him under obs tonight,’ he told DS Colville. ‘I’ll be there in the morning to take him out. Hopefully he won’t move again until then.’

‘No problem, guv,’ Jean answered. ‘If he moves, I’ll let you know.’

‘Thanks.’ Sean hung up, waited a few seconds and called Sally. When she answered he could hear she was in the pub.

‘Sally. It’s Sean.’

‘Please tell me you’re not still at work.’ She sounded sober enough.

‘Contact Donnelly and the rest of the team.’ He knew Donnelly at least would be close by. ‘Six a.m. briefing back here. We’re taking Hellier out before he leaves for work.’

‘Before he leaves for work?’ she asked. He could hear the confusion in her voice. ‘He’s gone home?’

‘Don’t ask me why,’ Sean replied. ‘I don’t know what he’s up to, but we’re going to finish this tomorrow.’

The light shining through the front door window was not a good sign. It was past eleven and he’d expected all to be quiet and dark inside. He turned the key as quietly as he could and carefully pushed the door open. The scent of the family who lived inside pleasantly assaulted his olfactory system. As he stepped inside he could hear the television quietly playing in the lounge. He followed the sound. Kate lay on the sofa, and Louise lay across her chest, sleeping fitfully.

‘What is she doing out of bed?’ Sean asked his wife.

She shushed him before answering. ‘She has a temperature. Something going around at nursery.’

‘Is she all right?’

‘She’ll be fine. I’ve given her some Calpol. I just hope she doesn’t give it to Mandy. I could do without having to look after two sick children.’ Louise stirred on Kate’s chest.

‘If it comes to that, I’ll take some time off work and help out.’

‘Take some time off work?’ she whispered. ‘How do you plan on doing that?’

‘We’ve had a break in the case. Things should start happening pretty quickly now. With any luck we’ll be able to charge our suspect and wrap things up within a few days.’

‘And then, no doubt, you’ll inherit another case and we’ll be back to the same old routine.’

‘It’s late and I have an early start tomorrow,’ he said. ‘This is probably not a good time to discuss this. You’re tired and stressed. Having this conversation won’t help.’

‘Yes. You’re right. I am tired and stressed, as you would be if you’d been at home alone with two young children, one of whom is sick.’ She managed to keep her voice down, despite her frustration.

‘What do you want me to do, Kate? I get away from work as soon as I can, but sometimes it’s not possible to walk away at five o’clock. I don’t have that luxury. I don’t do a normal job.’

‘It’s this damn Murder Squad. It’s too unpredictable. I never know when I’m going to see you. When the kids are going to see you. I can’t plan anything like normal people do. When was the last time we did anything as a family? When was the last time we had a decent holiday? When was the last time you helped bath the kids, Sean? You know, I work too. Sometimes I need you to be here to help out.’

‘I want to be here,’ he told her. ‘But I don’t know how I can make things easier. I don’t sell fucking shoes, Kate. I solve murders. I stop people who kill. I can’t do this job with one hand tied behind my back.’

There was a silence before Kate replied: ‘Is that what we are to you, Mandy, Louise and I? Some kind of handicap you’d be better off without?’

‘No. No,’ he insisted. ‘That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant, but I need my mind to be clear if I’m going to have any chance of catching these people quickly. If I’m constantly worrying about getting home for bathtime or dinner, I can’t think properly. I can’t think the way I need to think. You and the kids have no place in that world, believe me.’

‘But you’re missing them, Sean. Before you know it, they’ll be leaving home and you won’t be able to get that time back. It’ll be gone.’

‘Do you want me to leave the police? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘No,’ she assured him. ‘That’s the last thing I want. Doing what you do makes you what you are. You need to be a cop. It’s a calling for you, not a job. But maybe it’s time to consider doing something else in the police. Something you can have more control over. Something more predictable. Get away from all this … death.’

‘But it’s what I’m best at. Where I can do things no one else can.’

‘You’ve done your bit, Sean. You’ve given enough of yourself. No one is going to think less of you if you ask for a change.’

Sean glanced at his watch and sighed. ‘Maybe you’re right. I’ll start asking around to see what’s on offer, but it’ll take a while. They won’t let me go until they’ve found a replacement.’

‘I understand that,’ she said. ‘And I don’t want you to rush into anything either. Just think about it. That’s all I ask.’

19

None of it matters to me any more. The police. My wife. My children. Staying here, in London. I always knew it would only be a matter of time before I had to move on, but it’s not quite come to that yet. There’s one further game to play.

My target has been selected. Nothing can save them now. It will happen exactly as I have pictured it. But don’t feel sad for them: be sad I have not chosen you. Once my hand touches them, they’ll be more in death than they had ever been in life.

The next will be the most difficult and therefore the best yet. It will be worth the risks. Besides, I’ve made allowances. The police are drinking from a mirage. I will let them fill their bellies with sand.

I wish I could reveal myself to you. Let you share my secrets. Unfortunately I cannot. For the moment, all I can give you is the gift of my nature.

I would like nothing better than to put my name to my work, but so few of you would be capable of understanding. You should sing my praises as a genius, but instead you would put me in a cage. How your psychiatrists and psychologists would like that. They could waste their time poking and prodding me. Would they tear up their textbooks when I tell them I had a happy childhood? That I never bit my classmates or tortured animals? Never killed the family cat and buried it in the woods?

I don’t hear voices in my head. I won’t claim God ordered me to kill. I’m not a disciple of Satan. I don’t believe in either. I don’t hate you. You are simply nothing to me.

I scored well in my exams. Took part in school plays. Played hockey and cricket for my county. Was the favourite brother to my sisters, son to my mother and father. I went to a famous university and obtained a degree in accountancy. I was admired by my peers and respected by my tutors. I had several girlfriends, some serious, some not. I got drunk on Fridays and felt sick most Saturdays. I took my washing home for my mother once a fortnight. I was popular.

None of it meant a thing.

I’m not sure how old I was when I first felt it. Maybe five, maybe younger. I constantly checked the mirror. How could I look the same when clearly I was so different? I was both scared and exhilarated. So young to be absolutely alone. So young to be freed from the mediocrity and pointlessness of a normal life.

Despite my age, I knew not to mention it to anyone. Not to talk to anyone about it. I had to bide my time. Fit in. Imitate those around me. I did very well in school, but was careful not to excel. Not to stand out. I realized I was just a chrysalis that protected the embryo within.