Outside Looking In: A darkly compelling crime novel with a shocking twist

‘Go back and find out. Try and find out as much as you can. How private are we talking here? Do they mingle with their neighbours, exchange Christmas cards, or do they pull up the drawbridge at night? How did you get on with the ANPR?’

Rory turned on the laptop and asked Aaron to turn off the lights. He then asked Scott to pull down the white screen covering the whiteboards. His laptop now acted as a projector.

‘OK, so, the ANPR has picked up eight images of Kevin Hardaker’s car as it travels from his place of work at Heeley to where he ends up on Clough Lane. As you can see, the first picture shows Mr Hardaker sitting behind the wheel of his car. He is alone.’

Rory flicked through the next three images as they only showed the rear of the car at various junctions and traffic lights. It was impossible to say if he was still alone in the car.

‘Here is picture number five; next to him in the passenger seat is Lois Craven.’

The photograph showed them both smiling, obviously in the middle of a conversation. They looked happy and relaxed. If only they knew what horrors were in store for them.

‘Number six is only half the car; he’s blocked by a bus. Number seven shows them on Bents Road, and just as they turn off onto Common Lane they’re snapped once again.’

The final picture showed a front image of the car. Their smiles had gone. They had finished their conversation and were both looking straight ahead. There was a sense of foreboding about the picture. In the few minutes after it was taken they would both be subjected to a violent attack, which would leave one of them dead and the other fighting for their life.

‘Thanks for that Rory. Any other cars picked up in front or behind them that could be of interest?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘No problem. Sian, how’s our Mr Rainsford doing?’

‘Poor bloke. He’s in bits. He keeps blaming himself, saying he should have noticed the beeping sooner. I tried to comfort him but it wasn’t helping. His wife seems like a pretty strong woman; she’ll soon bring him round.’

‘No chance it’s a guilty conscience is it?’ Matilda asked with a hopeful half-smile.

‘I’m afraid not. He’s definitely just a witness. I’ve told him to pop in if he remembers anything else or if he wants to chat but I doubt he will.’

I bloody hope not. That’s all we need, hysterical witnesses cluttering up the investigation.

Scott’s desk phone rang. He answered, said a few words then hung up. ‘Ma’am that was the ACC’s secretary. She was wondering if you could pop upstairs for a moment.’

‘OK, thanks Scott. Look, wrap up what you’re doing here then we’ll call it a day. Until we can have a word with Lois Craven there’s very little we can go on.’

ACC Valerie Masterson only ever called down for Matilda when something serious had occurred. She could feel the prickly sensation of tension slowly creeping up her back.

HIGH-RANKING COP RIDICULES ‘MINOR’ GUN CRIME

By Alex Winstanley

A top detective within South Yorkshire Police has ridiculed the spate of gun crimes in Sheffield as ‘minor incidents’.

Detective Chief Inspector Matilda Darke, head of South Yorkshire’s prestigious Murder Investigation Team, said the people of Sheffield had nothing to worry about despite a double shooting in Clough Lane last night, killing a man and leaving a woman in Intensive Care.

This comes a week after an 8-year-old boy was found playing with a replica handgun in Rollestone Wood, Gleadless Valley.

This year alone, there have been a number of burglaries in the city, many of which have involved the use of guns.

In February, two Co-op stores were held at gunpoint, and earlier this month three young women on a night out in the city centre were mugged by a masked man they believe had a handgun in his pocket.

DCI Matilda Darke said, ‘These are minor incidents. The public are under no threat from gun crime.’

Cheryl Glover, 19, one of the three mugged said, ‘If DCI Darke thinks having a gun pointed at you and having your possessions stolen is a minor incident she’s obviously in the wrong job.’

DCI Darke has recently returned to leading the Murder Investigation Team following her suspension over the Carl Meagan kidnapping. Carl was taken from his home last March and his grandmother killed in a robbery, again involving guns.

DCI Darke’s comments will come as a blow to the Meagan family, who, next week, will commemorate a year since their son was kidnapped. Sally Meagan, Carl’s mother, has been particularly critical of DCI Darke’s return to work and once again calls for her to be removed from South Yorkshire Police.

‘I have no idea why she was allowed back to work,’ Mrs Meagan said in a recent interview. ‘My mother-in-law was murdered and my son kidnapped. She botched the ransom drop, which led to the kidnappers fleeing with him. She’s not fit to work for the police and I sympathize with any family of victims of crime she is involved in.’

Assistant Chief Constable Valerie Masterson was unavailable for comment.

TWELVE (#ulink_84e17a34-6484-53ae-8b10-d10e0da66eff)

Matilda felt like she was taking the long, slow walk to the gallows as she ascended the stairs to the ACCs office. By the time she reached the top (two floors up) she was breathless. Maybe she should rejoin Adele at her spinning class, get in shape, and back down to a size ten.

Robert Walpole, Spencer Compton, Henry Pelham, Thomas Pelham-Holles, William Cavendish.

She knew the stress was becoming too much when the Prime Ministers turned up. An exercise suggested by Dr Warminster. She had told her to concentrate on naming the British Prime Ministers during times of stress to help her regain control of her breathing and settle her thoughts. It worked. However, Matilda had thought now she could cope with life and its many hurdles without their appearance. It would seem not.

Through her jacket she could feel her shirt sticking to her back, damp with sweat. She hoped it wasn’t noticeable. She knocked on the door and was called in almost immediately. Masterson had obviously been waiting. This did not look good.

‘Matilda, come on it. Have a seat,’ Masterson was all smiles, her voice friendly. A very bad sign.

As Matilda stepped fully into the room she saw the heavily pregnant Karen Sweetland from Media Support standing beside a seated ACC.

‘You wanted to see me?’ Matilda asked once she was as comfortable as she could be while visibly sweating. Her lungs seemed to have shrunken down to the size of a pound coin. Her breathing was laboured and her vision began to blur. She hated not being in control of her own mind. Panic attacks were crippling, and just when she thought she had a handle on them she was floored by another.

‘Yes I did. The evening edition of The Star has just been delivered to me.’

Matilda had a sinking feeling. Her heart practically plummeted through the floor. She was beginning to loathe this paper.

The newspaper was neatly in front of Val Masterson on the desk. Matilda tilted her head slightly to read the front page, which was upside down from her point of view, but she couldn’t quite make it out.

‘I believe they have a new crime correspondent,’ Val continued. ‘You’ve spoken to him.’

‘Yes. He called me this morning trying to get something out of me about the shooting last night. I just told him a statement would be released in due course.’ She looked at the grave faces of her boss and the press officer. She quickly went over the very short conversation with Alex Winstanley but could not think of anything controversial she may have said. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘You tell me.’ Val opened the newspaper to page five, folded it back and slapped it down hard in front of Matilda. The headline screamed out at her: ‘HIGH-RANKING COP RIDICULES “MINOR” GUN CRIME’.

‘What the hell?’ Matilda snapped up the newspaper.

‘My words exactly.’

Matilda scanned the article. Her hands were shaking, rattling the pages. She stopped reading as soon as she found Carl Meagan’s name. ‘Where did he get this crap from?’

‘You.’

‘What? I didn’t say gun crime was a minor incident.’