Recompense Read online

  ‘Talk to me some more about this anger. How does it manifest itself?’

  ‘Well it doesn’t really. I just block it out with booze or cutting.’

  ‘Why are you angry?’

  ‘What a bloody stupid question!’ Lissa fired back at Torrie. Shaking, she spat the words out and thumped the arms of the chair with clenched fists. ‘I’m angry because they stole everything from me. Not just my cameras – my life – they stole my body! It’s not mine any longer. It belongs to them. I cut it because I am disgusted by myself. I hate them, but I hate me too. They stole everything, but part of me thinks that I let them. I have nothing left… of me.’ Lissa curled up in the chair and sobbed.

  Torrie sat back in hers and sighed. For the first time they had made a breakthrough. She allowed Lissa time to cry and when the tears subsided, she asked, ‘What do you want to do now?’

  ‘I want to kill them,’ Lissa said. ‘I want to take from them everything that they took from me, and I want them to know why I am doing it.’

  ‘Payback?’ said Torrie.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Lissa.

  Later

  After Lissa left, Torrie went to her laptop and opened her email program. She clicked “compose” and began typing.

  Anders/Graeme

  We need to talk urgently about Melissa Warren. I am concerned about her increasing paranoia and the harm that she may do to herself. Please can we agree a time to meet for a case conference and the best way to handle her continued care?

  Torrie

  She sat to read and reread her note. Finally after a few tweaks that she was not satisfied with, she kept her original message and hit “send”. Sitting back in her chair, she pondered for a moment and then pulled a manilla file towards and made copious notes in Lissa’s records.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  16th July 2018

  Gippingford Police HQ

  ‘Sir, we’ve had a breakthrough on the CCTV.’ Tim Jessop, in his excitement, knocked and burst into DCI Carlson’s office without waiting for a reply.

  ‘Show me,’ said Carlson, holding his hand out for the photos that Tim was carrying.

  ‘Look, sir. Here, just a corner of the light coloured car near Matt Phillips’ flat. See the dark mark on the bumper?’ Tim pointed to the shadow on the car. ‘Possibly a dent or a scrape with a bollard or something. Then we’ve got a small light coloured car near the nightclub, and finally we have it here coming into Felixstowe and driving up the seafront.’

  ‘But no number plate?’ Carlson muttered. ‘Nothing to narrow it down more?’

  ‘There’s ANPR on the dual carriageway going to and from Felixstowe. We caught her coming out of the town,’ said Tim triumphantly.

  ‘Her?’ Carlson raised a silver eyebrow at this news.

  ‘The car is registered to a Melissa Warren. She lives near Bristol.’

  ‘Seems a long way to come and kill someone. Are we sure she’s not sold the car?’

  ‘DVLA have no record of a sale, sir,’ said Tim. ‘I had the same thought, so I did check.’

  ‘Okay, call the local station and let them know we’re coming to interview someone on their patch. Then it looks like we’re off to Bristol,’ said Carlson.

  ‘Me, sir? You don’t want to take the skipper or Jane?’

  ‘No, Tim, your find, your collar. Anyway it’ll give us a chance to get to know each other better.’ Carlson grinned at him.

  ‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,’ said Tim. He kept the smile on his face whilst his heart sank. Four hours in a car with his boss was fine, but when that boss was also his girlfriend’s father? That part he was much less excited about.

  In the end, however, it was a perfectly amicable trip, and not the inquisition he was expecting, although his career intentions were discussed at length. Tim admitted that he didn’t feel ready to move to the next rank yet, but he was disappointed when, as he had already anticipated, Carlson readily agreed. He decided to leave discussions about a move to Avon and Somerset Police to himself for the time being.

  18th July 2018

  Gippingford Police HQ

  ‘I’ve found out some more about Melissa Warren, sir,’ Jane Lacey said. ‘Her accident was three years ago, wasn’t it? So, I’ve been in touch with the UK Border Force for her movement history and they’ve just come back to me. Three years ago she came back from northern Spain. It took some time but I traced her entry date and found out that she was hospitalised in Pamplona. I’m waiting on someone to talk to the hospital. I’m not sure my Spanish is up to it.’

  ‘We don’t know what she was in hospital for?’ asked Carlson.

  ‘No, not yet, but I found her on a flight home in August 2015 and her mother was with her. Mum, Sandra Warren, flew out on fifteenth July 2015 and they flew back together on eleventh August.’

  ‘A month in hospital sounds pretty serious, though?’ said Poole. ‘Car accident? Can we talk to the local police?’

  ‘Same problem, skip,’ replied Jane. ‘I can ask for a couple of beers and the bill, but that’s my limit I’m afraid.’

  ‘Okay, leave it with me,’ said Carlson. ‘We’ll get something organised through Interpol. They can at least get a message to the relevant authority.’

  ‘What do you want me to do in the meantime, boss?’ asked Jane.

  ‘Humour me, Jane,’ Carlson said, scratching his ear. ‘Our last victim had a bull run T-shirt didn’t he?’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Find out which year he went there,’ he said. ‘If it was 2015 then that’s a link between our victims and Melissa Warren.’

  ‘You like her for the murders, sir?’

  ‘I think I do,’ he said. ‘She may not have been able to manhandle the bodies on her own, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t have an accomplice.’

  Jane Lacey flushed as all the team turned to face her. She looked at Ronnie Carlson and he gave her a brief nod and smile of encouragement.

  ‘I’ve been in touch with the airlines which fly to northern Spain,’ she began. ‘As you know, since nine eleven, all airlines keep their passenger lists. So, I’ve traced our victims flying from Gatwick on sixth July 2015 to Bilbao and back again on the fifteenth of July. From the airport they hired a people carrier and drove to Pamplona. They stayed at a hostel. Not the most salubrious of places but at that time of year it would have been very expensive. They dumped the car at the hire place and then used another one to take them back to Bilbao on the fifteenth. So they were in Pamplona at the same time as Melissa Warren. We don’t know yet if they met at all. During this festival, San Fermin, the population is huge. Three times more people than are usually in the city.’

  ‘Thanks, Jane,’ said Carlson. ‘Tim, did you find something on them as well?’

  ‘No, sir. Although they would have been on footage at the airport before boarding, that’s only kept for thirty days. However, I did ask the techies to do a sweep of social media for that day, time and location. We’ve got this.’ Tim switched on the flat screen TV linked to his laptop and the team saw a group of young men, shouting and yelling as they ran to the boarding gate. ‘They’d been drinking quite heavily after getting through security, and had caused a bit of a nuisance. We’re trying to trace who took the original footage of them now. I don’t know if that’s a line of enquiry you want to pursue, sir?’

  ‘I’ll give it some thought, Tim,’ said Carlson. ‘At least we know they were at the airport and we have some idea of their behaviour. A witness may be able to remember that day, but it was three years ago. I’m more interested in the timeline after this. How they behaved after landing. There’s some reason that they have been mutilated the way they have. I agree that the motive could be related to a sexual attack. What about you, Ben, any thoughts?’

  ‘Does how they behaved at the airport have a bearing on them being killed? Probably not other than proving that they can be a bunch of idiots. As for the mutilations, I’ve been doing a bit of thinking about that. If they were all genital m
utilations then I’d be thinking some sort of lust murder, but the throat, the eyes, that doesn’t make sense. You may have to get a real profiler in for this case, guv,’ said Poole, looking glum.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  7th March 2017

  Bristol, Somerset

  Lissa stumbled across the waiting room and into the consulting cave, as she thought of it. The subtle lighting scheme enhanced the feeling of shelter and to an extent safety. She flopped into the chair and waited for the whirling room to slow to a gentle spin.

  Torrie’s voice floated to her like a distant echo, a half-forgotten memory. ‘I see that there’s no need to ask how you are,’ she said. Her voice was free of censure, but one look at her face could have told Lissa the effort taken to achieve the mask of non-judgemental calm.

  Lissa, however, was incapable of any form of understanding. Pushing herself up in the chair, she placed an elbow on the arm and rested her chin in her hand. She blinked trying to bring Torrie’s face into focus. ‘I’m okay,’ she muttered, pushing a tendril of dirty, matted hair out of her eyes.

  ‘Lissa,’ Torrie began. ‘I am sorry that we couldn’t get you into the Abbey when you were here last but I’m not sure how much help I can be to you if you continue to turn up drunk. I suppose I should be grateful you’re not driving. You didn’t drive did you?’

  ‘No, I walked,’ said Lissa proudly. ‘I thought you’d be pleased with me.’ She didn’t mention that the taxi company had refused to drive her any longer. She tried to sit up but her elbow slipped and the inside of her arm collided with that of the chair. She swore.

  Torrie sighed and poured her some water. ‘Drink this,’ she said. ‘It might help. What started you off?’

  Lissa looked at the cups of water on the table. She could not trust herself to pick up the right one and she looked away from them.

  Torrie placed the cup in Lissa’s hand, wrapping her fingers around it. ‘Drink,’ she commanded, but Lissa seemed incapable of lifting the cup. Torrie held it to Lissa’s lips and helped her consume some of the water.

  ‘Thank you,’ Lissa said. She licked her lips, realising how thirsty she had been. ‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep last night. I only had one to help me get back off.’

  Torrie snorted. ‘One glass, one bottle or one litre?’

  ‘I’m a mess, I know,’ said Lissa. ‘Mal’s always telling me what a mess I am.’

  ‘Lissa, I’m worried about you. I am pleased that you walked here today. Especially since you have missed so many appointments,’ Torrie said. ‘But I am concerned about your dependence on Mal. You seem to rely on him completely, but is it so important what he thinks of you?’

  ‘He’s my only friend,’ Lissa replied.

  ‘What about Jenni? You two were very close at one point. You’re still living in the flat at her parents’ place aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Lissa drawled the word as if the very act of drawing it out could express the divergent meaning. ‘I don’t see much of her at the moment.’

  ‘And your parents? Are you still seeing them regularly?’

  Lissa hid her face. How could she tell Torrie the truth, that she was avoiding everyone. Everyone, that was except Mal. He was the only person who completely understood her. The only one who knew what she was going through.

  ‘When you were here recently, Lissa, you talked about wanting to take revenge on the men who raped you. Could you give me an example of what you meant by that?’

  ‘I don’t know if I can,’ Lissa replied. ‘I hate the fact they are free and that I am trapped.’

  ‘Trapped, how?’ Torrie asked.

  ‘Trapped in this body that doesn’t belong to me. Trapped in the flat. Trapped without a job. Trapped without my cameras.’ Lissa gulped down the last of the water in the plastic cup. ‘I’m not ME anymore. They took me away.’

  ‘I thought you told me that the cameras had been replaced?’ Torrie probed gently.

  ‘They have,’ Lissa sighed. ‘But it’s not the same. I knew you wouldn’t understand. It’s just that every time I look through the lens I see them. It’s as if I’ll never be able to escape them. Unless… unless they were all dead. Then I think I could be free again.’

  ‘How did you feel about revenge beforehand?’

  ‘I don’t understand the question,’ Lissa frowned. ‘I don’t think I gave it any consideration at all.’

  ‘What you’re saying is that before, you felt quite ambivalent about taking revenge on someone?’ Torrie cocked her head to one side, her glossy black hair falling away from her high cheekbones.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Lissa mused. ‘As I said I don’t think I thought about it at all. Now I’m consumed by it. It’s as if I can’t think about anything else. That’s why Mal helps me. He understands.’

  ‘When you first came in today, you said Mal thinks you’re a mess. What is that doing to help you?’

  ‘Well that doesn’t, obviously, but he understands why I’m a mess. Sometimes it seems like he’s the only person who does.’

  ‘A few weeks ago when we talked you’d had an argument with Mal and then you argued with Jenni. You said Mal was taking advantage of you and you were afraid of him. How have things changed between the two of you?’

  ‘Oh, you don’t understand!’ Lissa thumped her hands on the chair’s arms in frustration.

  ‘Lissa, I’m asking you to help me understand. That’s all,’ replied Torrie her voice remaining calm and composed. ‘One moment you are afraid of him and the next he’s your only friend. I’m simply trying to understand the differences and the changes in his behaviour which make you oscillate in your feelings towards him.’

  ‘Why? What has he been saying about me? I know you see him too.’ Lissa’s face paled, yet two bright patches shone on her cheeks.

  ‘I think that’s a conversation you should have with Mal,’ Torrie replied. ‘Perhaps now that you are less intimidated by him, that is something you could talk over. I think that’s a good place for us to stop today, Lissa. Same time next week?’

  Lissa nodded and made for the door; fumbling with the handle, she cursed loudly.

  Torrie turned in her chair. ‘Lissa,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you let me call the Abbey again? They can help you to cut down on the booze. I’m not sure that you can cut back on your own. What do you say? Shall I call them?’

  Lissa, still unable to open the door, thumped it hard and slid to the floor where she lay, moving only to distance herself from the pool of vomit she had retched up.

  When she came to, she was strapped down in a moving vehicle. A bulky woman in a green uniform was by her side.

  ‘Don’t you worry now, my pet,’ the woman said. ‘We’ll have you right as rain in no time at all.’

  ‘Where am I?’ asked Lissa struggling with the straps.

  ‘We’re on our way to A&E at the Infirmary. They’ll sort you out. Let me just take your blood pressure now you’re awake.’ The woman tightened the pale blue arm band which was already around Lissa’s bicep and began to pump it with air. Just at the moment Lissa thought she could stand the squeezing no more, the pressure released and the paramedic recorded the numbers.

  She brushed a tendril of Lissa’s hair away from her face. ‘Boyfriend trouble?’ she asked.

  But Lissa had no time to answer as the rear doors of the ambulance flew open and she was unceremoniously trundled from the back of the vehicle into the hospital and the bright fluorescent lights of Bristol’s Royal Infirmary accident department.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  23rd July 2018

  Bristol, Somerset

  DC Tim Jessop pulled into the driveway and whistled softly. The main house sat back from the road. Tall sash windows gleamed in the sun, even the attic windows shone. Stonework adorned the corners and the main entrance had dark stone steps leading to an imposing wooden door under a stone archway.

  To the right of the house sat a two-storey double garage. The two officers climbed the s
tairs which led up to the flat above and a red doorway. Only after intense interrogation of their warrant cards and a call to Gippingford HQ, did she finally let them into her home.

  ‘You are aware, aren’t you, Miss Warren, that it is an offence to register your car to a place where you are not residing,’ said DCI Carlson as he took a seat and accepted a mug of tea from Lissa.

  ‘I’m sorry, chief inspector, I don’t think I did know that. And call me Lissa, everyone does,’ replied the young woman. She curled herself into an armchair and sat with her arms, encased in long sleeves despite the temperature, around her knees. ‘When I moved in here it was going to be temporary. I’ve just stayed a little longer than I expected. I’m sorry you had to go out of your way. Daddy let me know you were coming. You need to talk to me about the car?’

  ‘Yes, it’s come up in an investigation we’re working on. Tim, photos please?’ said Carlson. Tim passed the folder across and carried on making notes of the conversation.

  Carlson took one photograph from the pack and passed it to Lissa. ‘Is that your car, Miss Warren?’ he asked passing it to her.

  She unfurled to reach forward and took the photograph, carefully holding it at the edges. ‘Yes, that does look like it’s my car. Where was this taken?’

  ‘We’ll come to that,’ said Carlson. ‘And were you driving the car that night, Miss Warren?’

  Lissa peered closer at the date in the corner of the image. ‘Unlikely,’ she said handing it back to him. ‘I haven’t driven the car since my accident. Mummy and Daddy brought it over and Jenni drives me around sometimes. To my appointments. Sometimes she borrows it and sometimes Mal does.’

  ‘Jenni? Mal? Who are they?’ asked Carlson. ‘Can I speak to them?’

  ‘Jenni is my, well I suppose she’s my landlady. We met whilst we were in hospital. Her parents own both the house and this flat. Jenni offered it to me as it’s quite near my therapist, and Mummy and Daddy were a bit clingy. It wasn’t helping me get better.’