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

as a police officer he daren’t ignore even a remote possibility that they might be connected. Ignoring possibilities was as bad as getting fixated. He rubbed his big hands over his face, blinked then shook his head. ‘If anybody ever bothers to ask, I’ll say it’s my job that’s the hardest.’ Connie Chong’s face came into his head. He started as his phone rang. It was Brophy.

‘Sir.’

‘I want an update on the progress of the Lawrence case by tomorrow.’

‘I’ll pull together what we’ve got so far, but—’

‘My office, two o’clock.’

A second call made his scalp tighten. It was Judd. ‘What?’ he snapped.

‘I’ve gone through the CCTV details again, Sarge, and found nothing. I’ve also searched the records Reynolds tracked down on dudes with rap sheets for carjacking over the last decade, plus an additional decade.’

He closed his eyes. Birmingham, UK and the Bronx remained interchangeable for Judd.

‘There’s nothing in any of them that remotely fits our case but they’re in your office if you want to go through them.’

He ended the call and made another. There was something he had to sort out before this investigation got much older.

‘Traynor.’

‘Will, I wanted to say thanks for your views on the carjacking series and the attack on the Lawrences.’

‘You’re welcome, but you don’t agree with them.’

‘At this early stage, I can’t dismiss any potential link. I’m glad you’re working with us again because we need your expertise, but we, you and me, don’t work under the same pressures. I can’t reject the carjacking series as irrelevant this early in an investigation. One of those victims was subjected to violence, plus she believes she saw a gun. The young carjacker I mentioned in briefing, Joshua Budd, was armed with a hammer and used it on one of his victims. I can’t ignore details like that, either. If I do and it turns out that they’re relevant to my two cases, my future in the force, or what’s left of it, could be behind me.’ He paused. ‘I’m continuing to investigate a potential link between the November series and the Lawrence shootings. I wanted you to know.’

‘Thank you. I think it’s a waste of resources but it’s your investigation.’

NINE

Friday 7 December. 1.30 p.m.

Jones and Kumar were talking Watts through their follow-up of all six of the November carjacking victim-witnesses. Jones pointed to printed sheets. ‘We went through each of their witness statements with them. We gave particular attention to the victim you spoke to recently, the one who said she saw a gun. She isn’t one hundred per cent, Sarge, although she’s adamant it was something metal. She said she saw streetlights glinting off it, but that’s all we got from her.’

Sitting back in his chair, Watts looked lost in thought. ‘What about the other five?’

‘None of them had anything they wanted to add or change.’

The two young officers were startled by his sudden straightening, his eyes on them. ‘In time, you’ll both realize that witnesses who are one hundred per cent certain about what they saw are as rare as hen’s teeth. Leave it a few days, then revisit them.’

They left and he stood, his eyes fixed on the folder containing what he had in terms of actual progress to offer Brophy. He pulled it towards him and hefted it in one hand. It looked and felt exactly what it was. Meagre.

Five minutes later, the folder was still closed and sitting between them. Brophy was looking irritated.

‘Let me get this straight: you wanted Will Traynor on this case and now you’re telling me you’re already going against what he’s advised?’ Not waiting for a response, he rolled on. ‘I heard what he said in the briefing. He sees no link between the carjackings and the Lawrence shootings. My question to you is why aren’t you now focusing all of your attention and resources on it? That’s what this category A inquiry was set up to do. That’s the homicide. It’s where the media pressure is.’

Watts was recalling Brophy’s earlier insistence that he shouldn’t drop the carjackings. This was typical straw-in-the-wind-Brophy. He knew that if he accepted what Brophy was saying, dropped the carjacking series and it eventually transpired that there was a link, Brophy would at best merge silently into the woodwork. At worst, he would be on to the chief constable, playing the blame game before Watts even had a chance to contemplate a quick retirement. Blame played a big part in internal policing. Not that Watts cared. He’d been in the job long enough to know that following his instincts, getting on with it, was his one option. Because it wasn’t about internal politics. It was about the victims. All of them.

‘I trust Traynor’s expertise, sir, but as SIO of both cases, I have to continue investigating them until I’m satisfied there is no link.’ His eyes were fixed on Brophy. ‘Unless you’re officially instructing me otherwise?’ Brophy looked away. No chance. Watts took pages from the folder and pushed them in his direction.

‘This is my overview of the intel we have so far, including forensic data, plus a summary of the CCTV evidence of the movements of Michael and Molly Lawrence prior to the shooting. The team is doing a thorough job with the technical equipment now at its disposal, but so far, there’s no leads. I have a potential lead associated with past carjacking offences which I’ll be following up.’

Brophy stared down at his desk. ‘It was monumental bad luck that the Lawrences’ path crossed that of somebody who values human life so little.’ He sighed, then glanced towards the window. ‘What happened to them is horrific, but Mrs Lawrence being pregnant makes it truly tragic.’

Watts saw a brooding expression on Brophy’s face he hadn’t seen before. As to luck, good or bad, Watts didn’t subscribe to it, but he got what Brophy was saying.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘How is Mrs Lawrence?’

‘Conscious, according to the hospital, but still very unwell. There’s a record in the overview I’ve given you of PC