On Cold Ground (Detective Karen Hart) Read online

  ‘We won’t start for about half an hour though – we’re giving him time with his solicitor.’

  ‘Okay, thanks.’

  Leo smiled and then turned to follow Churchill and Arnie into the corridor. Karen carried her coffee back to her desk and sat down with a sigh. She planned to use the next half an hour to try to make some sense of this case. She pulled the nearest file towards her.

  Karen flipped over the cover and then froze. There was a bright yellow Post-it attached to the first page in the file. She didn’t use Post-its, and these were her personal files that she’d collated. No one else had been using them.

  Although the colour had caught her eye first and made her pause, it was what was written on the note that clouded her vision and made the world spin.

  On the Post-it were the words I’m closer than you think.

  She stared at them for a moment and then looked up sharply, scanning the room.

  She’d been away from her desk. Anyone could have opened the file and attached the Post-it. But who? And why?

  She read it again.

  I’m closer than you think.

  Karen shivered as the thought occurred to her that the note could have been left by The Cleanser. It was a taunt, a threat. Karen’s mouth grew dry. Did it mean the killer had access to the station?

  But maybe she was reading too much into it. Perhaps it was an old Post-it that had somehow found its way to Karen’s desk . . . Could it mean something other than a threat? Was someone playing a joke?

  But no one was looking at her. No one was trying to hide a smirk behind their computer screen. No one giggled.

  And it wasn’t funny.

  The station had good security. A swipe card with security clearance was needed to leave the public area and access the staff-only sections. Did that mean whoever had stuck the Post-it on her file worked at the station?

  She thought back. Churchill had been standing beside her desk earlier, talking to Arnie. He could have done it. Or maybe Arnie. And Leo had been there too.

  But her suspicion focused on Churchill. Alice Price had said to look into Churchill when Karen had asked her about the network of corruption. And Anthony had called wanting to talk to her about something they’d discussed on Monday.

  On Monday, they’d talked about Churchill.

  Karen put her head in her hands. It all came back to him. DCI Churchill.

  She looked again at the Post-it. Most of the letters were rounded, in neat handwriting. The a was written in a distinctive style. More like a typed a than handwritten. That could be important. She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out an evidence bag. She used the bag to pick up the note without touching it with her fingers, and carefully peeled it away from the paper.

  As she sealed the bag, she wondered if she was overreacting. It could be a Post-it someone had used ages ago, and somehow it ended up stuck to this file.

  Churchill was occupied. He was going through interview questions with Leo and Arnie. That meant his office would be empty.

  Karen didn’t hesitate. She left the evidence bag on her desk and moved quickly. Her heart was racing as she headed up the stairs.

  It wasn’t until she paused outside Churchill’s office that she doubted her plan. If she was caught going through a senior officer’s private paperwork, that would take some explaining.

  She hesitated with her fingers on the door handle. Did she really want to do this? Was she sure Churchill was the bad guy? The truth was, she didn’t know, and there was only one way to find out. She needed to get a look at his handwriting.

  Karen pushed open the door, which thankfully was unlocked, and stepped inside. It smelled of printer ink and the sharp aftershave he wore. His jacket was hanging up on a hook next to the filing cabinet. His desk was clean and free of clutter. There was a picture of him and two children, a stationery organiser containing pens, pencils and paper clips, but no paperwork or notebook lying on the desk with a sample of his handwriting.

  She gritted her teeth. Trust him to be so clean. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure she was still alone, then tried the desk drawers, but they were all locked.

  She moved over to the filing cabinet. Again, locked.

  Karen looked around. He must have written something somewhere! Then she froze at the sound of voices coming from the corridor. Churchill. He was coming back already. She rushed to the door. How was she going to get out of this?

  She considered sitting down in front of his desk and pretending she was just waiting for him to return, but she wasn’t sure she could pull that off. He wouldn’t believe it.

  Biting her lower lip, she peered out and saw Leo and Churchill walking towards her. She pulled back quickly. She was never going to talk her way out of this.

  She heard Leo say, ‘Actually, sir, there was something I wanted to ask you.’

  Karen chanced another brief glance outside and saw Leo put a hand on Churchill’s arm to stop him walking on.

  ‘All right. What is it?’ Churchill asked.

  ‘Actually . . .’ Leo touched Churchill’s elbow and gently steered him around, so he wasn’t able to see the open door.

  Pulse racing, moving silently, Karen stepped out of the office.

  ‘It’s Arnie,’ Leo said. ‘I’m a bit worried about the sausage sandwiches, to be honest. He’s not the healthiest chap, and he had that heart scare last year. I tried to talk to him about it, but he doesn’t listen to me. I thought maybe you could have a word?’

  Churchill pulled his arm away. ‘Arnie’s diet is no concern of ours. If he wants to eat sausages every day, it’s his choice.’ He turned and frowned when he saw Karen in the corridor. ‘DS Hart, what can I do for you?’

  Karen was still desperately trying to think of a way to get a sample of his writing. She needed an excuse, but her mind had gone blank. ‘I thought I could run over the interview questions with you.’

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ Churchill said. ‘We’ve already finalised our interview strategy for Ashworth, but thank you for the offer.’

  He moved past Karen and went into his office. He paused and looked around. Had she left something out of place? A sign she’d been in there? But after a moment, he sat down.

  She needed to tell Churchill about the Post-it. Yes, she had her suspicions about him, but he was heading up the enquiry, and it could be crucial to the case. She stepped into the doorway and he looked up, but before she could say anything, his phone rang and he snatched it up.

  ‘Churchill . . . Ah, thanks for getting back to me.’ He swivelled his chair around, so his back faced Karen and Leo.

  Karen exhaled a relieved breath and shot Leo a thankful look before rushing off. She probably owed Leo an explanation, but it could wait.

  She had only been searching Churchill’s office for a few minutes. They must have finished the interview plan very quickly.

  Downstairs, she walked back to her desk. She was going about this the wrong way. She wasn’t a vigilante. She was a police officer, part of a team.

  She glanced around the office. Most of her colleagues were trustworthy and honest. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure which ones she could trust.

  But she knew she could rely on Morgan. She wasn’t alone. She could tell him about the Post-it note, and he’d know what to do.

  Karen’s gaze skimmed the desk, looking for the Post-it in the evidence bag. It wasn’t there. She frowned, shuffling files and lifting the paperwork on her desk looking for it, but it had vanished. Karen put her hands on her hips and stared at the desk in disbelief. ‘Someone must have taken it,’ she muttered just as Leo strolled over.

  ‘What was all that about upstairs, Karen?’ he asked. ‘What were you doing in Churchill’s office?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ Karen said.

  ‘I’ve got time,’ Leo replied.

  ‘No, you haven’t. You need to do the interview.’ She was still staring at her desk rather than looking at Leo.

  ‘Are you sure ev
erything’s all right? I know you had a really difficult time last night.’

  ‘I’m fine. There was something here on my desk a moment ago, but now it’s gone.’

  ‘Oh, what have you lost?’

  Karen opened her mouth to tell him and then shut it again. She was going to sound crazy. There was a threatening Post-it on my desk, and now it’s disappeared.

  Why hadn’t she put it in her desk drawer and locked it? She’d been in such a hurry to prove that Churchill had written it that she’d run up to his office to look for a sample of his handwriting without thinking things through. Unless someone else had picked it up? Maybe Sophie or Rick?

  Karen walked away from a puzzled-looking Leo, and rapped on Morgan’s office door.

  He looked up and smiled. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Not really, no,’ Karen said, walking in and sitting down. ‘I had a note on my desk. Well, not a note. It was just a Post-it. Someone had written I’m closer than you think on it. I think someone left it there as a taunt. But now it’s disappeared.’

  ‘I’m closer than you think. I don’t like the sound of that. You think it was left by the killer?’

  ‘Well, if not from the killer, then somebody who thinks it’s funny to play a practical joke like that.’

  Morgan waited as Karen pulled out a chair and sat down, then said, ‘How much sleep did you get last night?’

  ‘Sleep?’ Karen looked up. She met his concerned gaze with a shake of her head. ‘I didn’t dream it, if that’s what you’re implying.’

  ‘All the other notes from The Cleanser were typed and printed by a laser printer,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, but the Post-it was handwritten.’

  ‘And it’s gone now?’ Morgan said with a lift of his eyebrows.

  ‘I know how that sounds,’ Karen said, raising her hands, ‘but it was there.’

  ‘So, why did you leave it on your desk rather than bring it straight to the superintendent or me?’

  That was a very good question.

  Because she wasn’t thinking straight. Because she was still devastated after yesterday. Because she was set on proving Churchill was the person behind Anthony’s death. Or all of the above.

  Karen sighed. ‘Because I’m an idiot, all right? I put it in an evidence bag, left it on my desk and went to Churchill’s office.’

  Morgan’s eyebrows lifted even higher, then he shrugged. ‘You went to talk to Churchill. I suppose that makes sense. It is his case. I thought you might—’

  ‘No, I went into his office to see if I could find a sample of his handwriting.’

  Morgan didn’t say anything for a beat. Then, ‘You think Churchill wrote I’m closer than you think on a Post-it and left it on your desk.’

  His face was expressionless, but Karen heard the scepticism in his voice. ‘I thought it was possible, yes, so I wanted to find a sample of his writing. The way the letter a was written was very distinctive, and I knew he was busy with the interview questions, so I thought it was the perfect time to go and look.’

  She knew it sounded bad.

  ‘It was the perfect time to show me or the super the note, Karen. Not the perfect time to break into his office. What if he’d caught you?’

  ‘It was unlocked. I didn’t break in.’

  Morgan didn’t look impressed.

  ‘I know, you’re right. I shouldn’t have done it, and he nearly did catch me. Thanks to Leo distracting him, I got out without him seeing but—’

  ‘Karen,’ Morgan said, and leaned back in his seat, shaking his head, looking disappointed.

  ‘I know. It was a stupid thing to do, but I did it, and now the note is gone, and I don’t know who sent it. I don’t know if it was a joke or if . . .’ She met Morgan’s gaze. ‘Or if The Cleanser is one of us.’

  ‘One of us? Karen, these killings have been sick. They’re the work of a serial killer. The Cleanser marks their victims.’ He frowned. ‘You think Anthony’s death is somehow related to the corruption enquiry and the—’

  Karen cut him off. ‘I’m not sure what to think. All I know is that I got that Post-it on my desk, and it sounded like a threat to me.’

  ‘All right. Let’s think this through logically,’ Morgan said. ‘Could the Post-it have a completely innocent meaning? Or become stuck to your paperwork from a different case file?’

  ‘I don’t think so. The file has only been on my desk.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m closer than you think. I can’t see how that could be anything other than a taunt.’

  ‘So the killer entered the station, bypassed the security, walked into the open-plan office, and while surrounded by police officers, they stuck a Post-it on your file, but it’s not there now.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Karen said.

  ‘You realise how that sounds.’

  ‘I can’t help how it sounds, Morgan. It’s what happened.’

  ‘Right. Well, let’s look for this Post-it. I’ll help you.’

  They went back to Karen’s desk and searched. They looked through every single sheet of paper, beneath the keyboard and under the computer, and Morgan even crawled around under the desk. They checked all of Karen’s desk drawers, even though she insisted she hadn’t put it in there. And her bag and her coat pockets.

  ‘You’re under a lot of stress,’ Morgan said finally, when they’d given up the search and gone back to his office.

  ‘Don’t, Morgan. Just don’t. I saw that note. I know it was real. I didn’t imagine it. I haven’t lost my mind.’

  ‘Of course you haven’t. I’m not suggesting that, but maybe you’re tired. Maybe you misread it.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ she said stubbornly. ‘We can’t ignore it.’ Karen lowered her voice. ‘What if it was from The Cleanser?’

  ‘We won’t ignore it. You’re going to have to tell Churchill and the superintendent. Everyone working on the case, in fact.’

  ‘But what if one of them left the Post-it on my desk?’ Karen said. ‘What if they’re playing games? One of them could have killed DCI Shaw.’

  ‘Do you really believe that?’ Morgan folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.

  ‘I know DCI Shaw wanted to tell me something, Morgan. I’m sure it was about Churchill. It’s a pretty big coincidence that Anthony just happened to be killed the night he was planning to tell me something.’

  Morgan nodded slowly. ‘All right, I’ll speak to the superintendent. But you have to tell Churchill.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Telling Churchill about the note had been an uncomfortable experience. He’d been silent, jaw clenched, forehead creased in a frown. He was torn between disbelief and an urge to reprimand her for losing an important piece of evidence.

  After a few sharp words, she was dismissed.

  She went to join Morgan in the small viewing area behind interview room three, to watch Leo and Arnie question Brandon Ashworth.

  Ashworth had a receding hairline and a large forehead. His heavy-lidded eyes gave him a sleepy appearance, though his constant fidgeting showed his agitation. He was smartly dressed in office attire, but his tie had been loosened and the top button of his shirt undone.

  He had an air of respectability.

  Could he have murdered and disfigured three victims? Was she now looking at the man who’d killed DCI Anthony Shaw? Karen wasn’t sure.

  The interview got off to a rocky start. Arnie led the questioning at first, but Ashworth and his solicitor were on the ball, declining to answer many of the queries. The solicitor looked smug, but Ashworth was uncomfortable. Arnie did his best to pry answers from the reluctant suspect, but Ashworth wasn’t making it easy. He continued to insist he didn’t know Laurel Monroe and had never been inside the apartment building.

  The CCTV was their ace card, and Arnie didn’t play it straightaway. He took his time, waiting for Ashworth to build his web of lies. After fifteen minutes of the back-and-forth, Arnie gestured to Leo, who opened the file in front of him and pushed the images of Ashworth le
aving the building across the desk.

  The solicitor’s features tightened almost imperceptibly, but Ashworth’s reaction was more dramatic. His mouth gaped. Then he put his head in his hands and groaned.

  ‘Maybe we should start again,’ Arnie said. ‘Why were you visiting the Magnolia apartment block on Saturday? You said you don’t know anyone in the building.’

  Leo chimed in. ‘I think it might be time to change your story, don’t you?’

  Ashworth gave his solicitor a desperate look. The solicitor gave a small nod and then said, ‘I’d like to confer with my client.’

  ‘You’ve had time to confer,’ Arnie said. ‘Now it’s time to talk. We want answers.’

  ‘I’m sure you do, Detective Sergeant, but I have a right to talk to my client in private.’

  ‘I lied,’ Ashworth said. ‘I was there on Saturday.’

  The solicitor gave him a sharp look. ‘I don’t think you should say any more until we’ve discussed the best way forward.’

  ‘There’s no point denying it. They’ve got me on camera,’ he said, pointing at the image. ‘Look, I denied being there because I wasn’t supposed to be, but it’s not what you think. I wasn’t involved in any kind of a crime. I was just visiting my girlfriend.’

  ‘Your girlfriend?’ Leo clarified. ‘But I thought you were married.’

  Ashworth grimaced.

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Leo said. ‘And so you lied to the police because you didn’t want your wife to find out where you were. Is that it?’

  ‘I just didn’t want anyone getting hurt.’

  ‘So you wasted police time.’

  ‘No. You brought me here. I haven’t wasted anyone’s time. I didn’t ask to be interviewed.’

  They continued questioning but now Ashworth was very open, answering everything they put to him, as he was eager to dissociate himself from the crime. They’d check with his girlfriend, but Karen felt Ashworth was now telling the truth. He wasn’t The Cleanser.

  A few minutes later, Arnie slapped his pen down on the table and snapped, ‘Interview terminated at one fifteen.’ Then he got up to leave the room.

  Karen left the viewing area with Morgan as Arnie stalked past them in the corridor.