Charlie and Mark climbed inside, levering themselves over the rotting windowsill as quietly as possible. Inside, the place was crumbling and deserted, a shell of the busy and vibrant place it had once been before the new city centre hospital sealed its fate. Charlie removed her baton from her belt and readied herself for action. Her hand was shaking – was she ready for this? Too late now. They crept forward, expecting to be jumped at any moment.
Then a sudden movement. Tanner in hoody and trackies bursting from her hiding place and through some swing doors. Mark and Charlie gave chase, busting a gut to get into the corridor and after their prize. Bang! They crashed through the doors, but were already twenty yards behind Tanner.
Bursting into the stairwell, they looked up to see Tanner taking the stairs three at a time. They sprinted after her, Mark pulling ahead in his determination to bag her. Up, up, up. Then another crash.
By the time they caught up they were on the fourth floor. Had she gone left or right? The swing doors to the left swayed slightly. Left it was. Mark eased the doors open and they slipped inside.
Empty. But there were doors at the other end – none of them moving – and four rooms off. She could be in any one of them. If she was, she was trapped now. They tried one, then another. Then another. Only one left.
Bang! It all happened so quickly that Charlie’s brain could hardly process it. A metal pipe crashed on to Mark’s head from behind and he crumpled to the floor. Charlie swung her baton hard at Tanner – it connected with the metal pipe with a harsh clang. She thrashed at her again and again, as Tanner parried the blows.
Except it wasn’t Tanner. This should have been apparent by the way she’d leapt up the stairs during the chase. And from the cunning she’d demonstrated in getting them to choose the wrong corridor, before sneaking up behind them. It wasn’t Tanner, it was their killer and Charlie was now face to face with her.
It was time to take the fight to the enemy. Ordering the startled Bridges to assemble the team, Helen pulled out her mobile phone and dialled Charlie’s number. Voicemail. Cursing, she rang Mark’s. Voicemail again. What the hell were they playing at? Helen left a hurried message, then headed for the incident room.
She didn’t like kicking off without her two best officers, but she had no choice. Even without them the team was twenty strong and she could rely on McAndrew, Sanderson and Bridges to marshall the team’s efforts effectively.
Helen wanted everything out on the table as fast as possible, so she dived straight in.
‘The woman we are looking for is called Suzanne Cooke.’
The team passed the photos of Suzanne along the line until everyone had one.
‘Attached to the back, you’ll find her charge sheet. She’s a convicted double murderer who served twenty-five years. She went AWOL from her probation hostel twelve months ago. She was in the Norfolk area, but I believe that she is now in Hampshire and may be responsible for these killings.’
A buzz went around the incident room. Helen paused, then continued:
‘I believe she is deliberately targeting me through the choice of her victims. Stephanie Bines seems fine for now, but I want full liaison with our Australian counterparts so we can keep her safe. She’s the last possible person on the list, but as the abduction of Mickery shows, Suzanne has got an imagination and is capable of deviating from the plan. So I want every available person on this. I’ll handle the press – I want you lot to focus all your efforts on finding her. DC Bridges, can you inform uniform, I want everyone out on the street asking questions. Suzanne Cooke is now our number one suspect and I want every eyeball in the county looking for her. Understood?’
‘Why you, boss?’ replied DC Grounds, asking what they were all thinking. ‘Why is she deliberately targeting you?’
Helen hesitated. The time for secrecy was over, but even now she took a deep breath before replying:
‘Because she’s my sister.’
Charlie tensed herself for a fight to the death. But her adversary made no move towards her, instead releasing her grip on the metal pipe in her hand. It clattered to the floor, the sound echoing around the deserted building. Charlie froze, suspecting a trick. But the killer merely slipped off her hood, revealing a hard but attractive face. For a moment, Charlie had a weird flash of recognition. But it was gone as quickly as it had come. Who was this woman? She was well-built, with prominent shoulder muscles, but had a thin attractive face, even though it was unadorned by make-up. Presumably this was to make her look as much like Tanner as possible.
‘I don’t know why you’ve brought us here, but we can end this peacefully. Turn around and place your hands on the wall.’
‘I’m not going to fight you, Charlie. That isn’t why we’re here.’
Hearing her name in the mouth of this killer was profoundly unsettling. But worse was to follow. Smiling, the killer now casually pulled a gun from her pocket and pointed it at Charlie.
‘You know what one of these can do, don’t you? If memory serves, you trained using a Smith and Wesson, didn’t you?’
Inexplicably Charlie nodded. This woman had a strange power – was it personality or simply the fact that she knew everything about you?
‘So put down your baton and take off your belt. If you’re going to pull your colleague downstairs, you’ll want to travel light.’
The killer threw some sort of harness at her and gestured to her to put it on. Charlie just stared at her. Couldn’t move.
‘Now!’ the killer bellowed, her expression changing from kindness to fury.
Charlie dropped the baton to the floor. They had walked into a massive trap. It was presumably she who’d called the station with the ‘sighting’ of Tanner. And they’d fallen for it. Facing Tanner had been bad, but this was something infinitely worse.
The team assaulted Helen with questions – some of them angry, some of them curious – and Helen stood her ground, answering as honestly and calmly as she could.
‘How long have you suspected?’
‘How long have you known?’
‘What does she want?’
‘Will she target you directly?’
But there was still so much Helen didn’t know and speculating would only get them so far. So after a frantic half an hour, she called time on the discussion. She needed them out there searching for Suzanne.
As she walked down the corridor towards the awaiting press, Helen realized her hand was shaking. She had buried her past for so long that revealing it now was like opening an old wound. Would her team still follow her? Still believe in her? Helen prayed that they would – she had a nasty feeling that the worst was yet to come.
94
‘Is the public at risk, Inspector?’ Emilia Garanita made sure she got her question in first. With journalists from the national tabloids and broadsheets in attendance, she wasn’t going to miss this opportunity to twist the knife. Whittaker’s attack on her was still very fresh in her mind.
‘We don’t believe that the general public are in danger, but we would urge people not to approach the suspect. She may be armed and her behaviour is unpredictable. If anyone sees Suzanne Cooke, they should dial 999 immediately.’
‘What is her connection with the recent deaths in Southampton?’ The killer question from The Times.
‘We are still trying to establish the full facts of the situation,’ Helen replied, noting Emilia’s cynical eyebrow rise in response, ‘but we believe she may have been actively involved in inciting the murders of Sam Fisher and Martina Robins.’
Helen tightened a notch internally. It had been a tough call whether or not to mention Martina in the briefing. If the press got on to this and tracked down Caroline, the game would be up. There was no way she would be able to hold back telling them chapter and verse about Suzanne’s diabolical role in these murders.