Devil in the Detail by A.J. Cross (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📗

Watts looked at the waiting faces. ‘Anything yet on CCTV from the possible routes taken by the Lawrences that night?’

‘Requested, sir.’ Miller pointed at the terminal in front of her. ‘There are two potential routes from the Newhall Street restaurant to Forge Street. There would have been more but for diversions and road closures.’

‘I want that information. At this early stage, I’m not ruling out that what happened to the Lawrences was the result of an incident of road rage. When it arrives, we’ll examine it for visuals of the Lawrences’ Toyota obviously, but more than that, we’ll be looking for indications of them being followed, any sign of a possible incident involving the Lawrences’ vehicle and any other. I’ve already requested CCTV of the specific area where they had dinner. I want Automated Number Plate Recognition checks on any vehicles of interest.’

‘On to it, Sarge,’ said Jones, turning to a computer. Watts looked from him to young Reynolds and an older officer, Gillespie, drafted in from the inner city. ‘How’s the victimology going?’

Gillespie’s eyes were fixed on the screen in front of him. ‘We’ve been on to the employers of Mr and Mrs Lawrence, who’ve provided names of colleagues, plus others known to be friends of theirs.’ He looked up at Watts. ‘You want them contacted?’

‘Hang on to the details for now. There’s more urgent inquiries I want done first.’

Watts’ eyes settled on Reynolds. He was looking stressed. A situation like this had to be a challenge for somebody hardly out of training. His attention moved to somebody else not that much further along. She looked as though she’d recovered from her experience at the hospital.

‘Judd’s going to give you the information she got from Mrs Lawrence.’ He sat on the edge of a table, arms folded, as Judd stood, eyes fixed on her colleagues.

‘Mrs Lawrence is still very unwell but she managed to provide some detail.’ They listened as she read from notes she’d made on the way back to headquarters. ‘She’s confirmed that their attacker stole their valuables. You know that forensics have a watch which was recovered at the scene. Mike Lawrence’s phone was also taken. I’ve had a quick word with forensics, who already have the number. They tried ringing it, but it was switched off within the inner city at nine p.m. on the evening of the attack. As you know, Mrs Lawrence managed to make the emergency call. She’s described their attacker’s voice and appearance to me, that he spoke with a lisp and was wearing a thick jacket with some kind of star pattern on the back.’ Fellow officers exchanged looks as Judd continued, ‘DI Watts has information relating to one of the victims of the Bristol Road carjacking series.’ She passed her notes to Miller as Watts stood.

‘We can’t rule out a connection to the Lawrence attack, so those six November cases remain ours. The sixth victim sustained a serious injury to her hand. She believes she saw a gun during the attack on her. She’s described her attacker as young, agile and confident. This investigation will focus on both the carjackings and the shootings. An inner-city gym owner has suggested a name for the carjackings: Jonah Budd. Budd already has form for it.’

He looked around the room. ‘Kumar? I want Budd’s full conviction record and social reports, plus his contact details, soon as.’ His eyes moved over all of them. ‘This major investigation has to stay aware of the possibility that somewhere in this city there’s a young, armed offender who is prepared to use violence in the commission of theft. You all know the inner city, the Bristol Road interchange which was the scene of those six attacks, and Forge Street where the Lawrences were attacked. They’re geographically close. The carjack victims lost personal stuff: handbags, briefcases. We’ve got few details as yet of what was taken from them, but as soon as we get them, I’ll let you know, although theft appears to be the motive because Mr Lawrence’s watch was found just beneath the car where it was dropped.’ The room was silent, all eyes on him. ‘Whoever shot Mr and Mrs Lawrence appears to place a low value on human life. Our prime concern has to be that he could do it again.’

He pointed at several officers. ‘I want the five of you out there, meeting and talking to local residents, keeping it low-key, with your listening heads on.’ He gave all of them a direct look. ‘It’ll come as no surprise that Mrs Lawrence is very unwell. The hospital has asked that we wait to talk to her again.’ He watched facial expressions change. ‘I know. It’s frustrating but that’s how it is. They’ll keep us updated as to her progress over the next few days. That’s it for today. Carry on.’ He hooked a finger at Judd.

With a glance outside at the press which looked to have increased three-fold, they went downstairs to Watts’ office.

‘Blinds, Judd.’

He listened to them swish closed, his own words about the low value placed on the Lawrences’ lives reverberating inside his head. He unlocked a cabinet, took out a file. Time to get moving on what he wanted. Bringing it to the table, he opened it, located what he was looking for, turned to the CV’s last two pages, Judd’s voice coming at him, as he looked down the long list of professional expertise, two items in particular snagging his attention.

Geographical Profiling. Trauma.

‘… And you had them keen as anything up there, Sarge … What’s up?’

‘I’ve been wondering how long I dare leave it before getting in some help. Now I know. I’ve got a phone call to make.’

‘To somebody with some particular savvy?’

He frowned. ‘Where’d you get that from?’

‘Just sensed it.’

He pointed his index finger. ‘Then, sense this: keep it to yourself until I’ve made the call and had a chance to square it with Brophy