Death Call Page 11

  “Good point, Dudley-Jones. Thanks.”

  “We need to dig deeper into the backgrounds of our suspects,” said Derek. “We’re looking for any deaths in the family. Mother? Father? Brother? Sister? He seems to be taking revenge on the Emergency Response Centre operators, paramedics, whoever. It must be that someone died and the emergency services couldn’t, or wouldn’t, save them.”

  “So, let’s share the information and get Dudley-Jones working with Holly, Billy working with Anderson and I can work with Ciaran. What do you say?”

  With everyone in agreement, they gathered up their files and equipment, ready to take to Aldershot Police Station and the Major Crimes office. When everyone had gone and Crane was clearing the corkboard, the dining room door opened and Daniel stood there, tears streaming down his face and his fingers in his mouth.

  “Don’t go, Daddy,” Daniel hiccupped.

  Crane swiftly went to Daniel, lifting him and holding him close. He moved to a chair and sat Daniel on his lap. “But Daddy has to go to work.”

  “Mummy was with me all the time. Here in the house. Why aren’t you?”

  “Because now mummy isn’t with us anymore, I have to try and be mummy and daddy and that means going to work to earn us money to live on.”

  “What’s that?”

  Crane wondered what the hell he was getting himself into and if he could find a way to explain, that Daniel would understand. What would resonate with a toddler? “Well, if I didn’t go to work, you wouldn’t have any Oreos to eat,” he said.

  “Oh.”

  Crane could see Daniel thinking about that, so decided to pile on the pressure.

  “Or no smart clothes to wear and lovely new shoes. Oh, and no furniture to sit on, so we’d have to sit on the floor. No TV to watch. Do you get it now?”

  After a moment Daniel smiled, “Okay, Daddy. See you later,” And he ran off, back to Mrs Strange.

  Crane continued to box up the items stuck to the corkboard to take with him and heard the children’s channel come on the television next door. He marvelled at the resilience of children. If only it were that simple for grown-ups.

  39

  That evening, Crane heard a knock at the door. He sighed. He’d been trying his best to forget everything that was going on in his life by watching television. He wasn’t sure he wanted visitors. But, if he was honest with himself, the programme about the canals of Britain wasn’t exactly riveting.

  Opening the door, he found the welcome sight of Kim Symmonds. “Hi,” he said, looking around her. “No Padre?”

  “Not this time. He’s away on exercise. Back Friday.”

  “So you thought you’d seek me out for some company, did you?” Crane said inviting her in and leading the way to the kitchen. On the way, he turned the TV off.

  “Sorry, did I interrupt something?” Kim took off her coat and sat down.

  “No, you’re alright. Company is far preferable than the Kennet and Avon Canal.”

  Kim looked askance.

  “Forget it, not interesting.”

  “I did want some company,” Kim confessed. “And I figured you might want some as well.”

  “Two lonely people, you mean?” Crane fought with the coffee machine, which was trying its best to make him look like an idiot.

  “Not quite that,” she grinned, moving over to help Crane who was losing his fight with the machine. In no time, she had two steaming cups of coffee.

  “So, how are you holding up?” she asked, as she brought them to the table.

  “Oh, you know.”

  “No, I don’t. So why don’t you tell me.”

  Crane looked at the woman sat before him. One who had faced one of the worst assaults a woman could be subjected to, and survived. Not just survived, but also thrived in a completely new environment after leaving the forces and marrying the Padre. Maybe he could learn a thing or two from her.

  He took a deep breath, then said, “It’s just stuff that goes round in my head and I can’t seem to get past it.” He was conscious of Kim watching him over her cup. He took out a packet of cigarettes from his trouser pocket, but didn’t light one, just played with the box.

  “I wonder what the hell I’ve done wrong,” he blurted out. “You know, to be paid back like this.” Kim still didn’t speak, so he continued, “First having to leave the army and then Tina dying. It’s all beyond my comprehension. Did I do some terrible things in the army that I need to pay penance for? Am I such a horrible person that I need to be punished?

  Not wanting Kim to see his tears, (he still had vestiges of his pride left after all), he rose and walked around the kitchen, stopping to look out of the kitchen window.

  “Everything has been turned upside down in the space of two years. In the blink of an eye, it’s all gone. I’ve lost everything. I’m not sure I can carry on. It’s too painful. I hurt too much.”

  Crane realised he was gripping the kitchen counter and tried to calm down and loosen his hands that seemed to have cramped in place.

  “You haven’t lost everything,” Kim said, causing Crane to turn round and look at her.

  “No? It bloody well feels like it.”

  “You still have Daniel.”

  Crane returned to his seat opposite her.

  “He must now be your reason for continuing.”

  “I’m not sure I can.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “You can?”

  “Sure. Who wouldn’t be able to empathise with your predicament? But it would be a shame for Daniel.”

  “What would?”

  “If you feel you can’t go on. It will define him. Affect the rest of his life. He’ll be fostered out, or put in a children’s home, lost, alone, bereft. Everything he loves and knows will have been snatched from him too. But he won’t have the luxury of suicide. He’ll have to endure whatever is thrown at him.”

  Crane’s head snapped up from his inspection of the table. “What are you talking about?”

  “You committing suicide.”

  “Who’s talking about suicide?”

  “Well you are.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes, you are. You just told me you can’t go on, you can’t cope, it’s not worth it…”

  “I don’t think I meant that,” stammered Crane. “Not suicide. Not leave Daniel.”

  “Oh, alright, so now you can cope. Can you?”

  “No, not really. Not without help. There I’ve said it. I. Need. Help. Happy now? Does that make you feel any better?” Crane spat.

  “Oh much better, Crane,” she smiled. “Because I can help you with counselling. Francis can help with companionship, as can Billy and Anderson and I hear your housekeeper is settling in well. You’ll soon get into a routine the three of you. That’s what you need now. Something reliable and familiar to hold onto.”

  “I guess Mrs Strange is managing to keep me and Daniel out of trouble.”

  “You’re all sorted then. That’s good. It means I can go home and not worry about you. At least not for tonight.”

  “Really?”

  “Really, because we’ve just proved you’re not alone: Daniel needs you and you have friends and colleagues who want nothing more than to help you. It won’t bring Tina back, it won’t heal the hole in your heart, in your world. Not yet. But, we will be able to bring you a modicum of comfort, if you’ll let us. Will you?”

  “I’ll try,” was the best Crane could do. However, deep down inside of him, he realised he had finally taken a step in the right direction.

  40

  Two days later, Crane felt that at last the investigation was making progress. They now had a viable suspect. After taking all the trigger points into consideration - expertise, work and the loss of a family member - Sam Callaghan had come out on top. His mother had died suddenly some years before, just as he was to begin a computer sciences course at Winchester University. He had worked at the Emergency Response Centre, so knew their computer system. By track
ing his mobile phone number, Ciaran and Holly had ascertained that he appeared to be staying in the Winchester area. He’d not gone far. Because of the different locations he’d been mapped at, it appeared he was sofa surfing with mates. After discreet enquiries of his friends, the team had ascertained that they had all been told not to tell his partner his whereabouts.

  Crane felt this was an extension of Sam’s callous behaviour towards his victims. Treating his partner and children like that was despicable. And, even if Sam hadn’t been able to cope with family life, that didn’t give him the right to disappear without a trace. What about his responsibilities as a father? How would you live with the pressure of that kind of guilt? The answer appeared to be that Sam Callaghan didn’t have any empathy. Didn’t understand the concept of guilt.

  Pulling himself back from his introspection, to the team meeting, taking place at Aldershot Police Station, he asked the other five members, “How do we play this?”

  It was Anderson who answered. “Put him under physical surveillance first, I think.”

  “But he’s living in Winchester. That’s a fair way from Aldershot,” said Crane.

  Anderson agreed.

  “And we’re not going to pass it to the local police?”

  Anderson shook his head. “No, this one is ours. I’ve cleared it with Grimes and the Winchester lot. They’re treating us as a kind of special task force.”

  “But what about Daniel?”

  Suddenly Crane was faced with one of the decisions that he would have to make on a daily basis in the future. Balancing his responsibilities as a single parent, with the demands of the job. Demands that would be, for the most part, completely unrealistic for someone solely responsible for childcare.

  Billy came to his aid. “It’s okay. You do days. It’s as simple as that. We’ll draw up the rota so that other members of the team do the nights. No one will mind. We’re a team, remember, boss? You always told me that there is no ‘I’ in team. This isn’t a personal vendetta anymore. We’re all here to support you.”

  Crane nodded. “No, you’re right it’s not. Sorry. Thanks, Billy. It doesn’t matter who catches him as long as someone does.”

  It wasn’t a situation that Crane was entirely happy with, but one he’d have to learn to live with.

  “Exactly.”

  Crane ran his hand over his face in a gesture that smacked of resignation. He felt no longer the proud Sgt Major, but a broken man, bowed under grief and loss. Looking to the future, he hoped that in time he would regain his sense of well-being and find a path through his sadness into the light. Everyone kept saying he was too good a detective for the profession to lose his expertise, and that Daniel needed a strong role model in his father, if the child was to flourish and prosper. Crane knew, even in the depths of his despair, that everyone in the room was rooting for him. He hoped he could draw strength from it and not let everyone down.

  41

  As Crane had requested, Clive had continued to monitor the telephone team, but without alerting Terry. He still wasn’t sure the man was taking the problem seriously. More interested in covering his back with the suits in mind, rather than accepting that there could be something wrong with the system. Any fault, however small, Terry seemed to view as a black mark against him. Clive’s opinion was diametrically opposite. If there is a suspicion that something could be failing with the system or a problem with one of the operators, then it was the manager’s duty to investigate fully and resolve the issue.

  When he noticed the flickering call lights he went to his boss, before anyone else noticed. He wanted to make sure he was the one to draw attention to the anomaly. He found Terry in his office making coffee. A task he seemed more interested in doing these days, than the job in hand. Clive reckoned the man would be gone soon. Moved up, or sideways, depending upon the whims of senior management. It made him all the more certain that it was best to stay on ‘the coal face’. Bugger office politics. They’d never interested him.

  “Yes, Clive?” Terry looked up.

  “Got a minute?”

  “Oh, right. You best sit down then.”

  Clive did, after turning down the offer of a brew himself. He said, “I just wondered what was happening about the call problem.”

  “Why? Have you anything to add?”

  “I might have. I’ve noticed that sometimes a call just disappears from the board.”

  “Really?” Terry frowned. “I’m not sure that can happen.”

  “No, but it does. I’ve seen a light flick on to show there’s an incoming call, but then it disappears just as quickly. I was wondering, is that when the fake operator has answered the call?”

  Terry glared and pushed his glasses up his nose. “That’s not been proven yet. No one is making any claims that there could be a rogue operator answering calls. Any such assertions are still being investigated and I can categorically state that there is nothing wrong with our system.”

  “No, but it doesn’t hurt to keep our eyes open.” Clive found Terry’s attitude appalling and was determined not to let the issue be side-lined.

  Terry played with his cup, turning it round and round. Eventually he spoke. “Very well, I suppose you’ve got a point. Maybe you should be part of the investigation from the inside.”

  Clive didn’t tell him he was already doing that.

  Terry continued, “What about the staff? Is there anyone acting strangely in the team? Anyone talking about calls no one else knows about?”

  It was normal at the end of a shift for the operators to chat whilst they were winding down and changing out of their uniform. Funny instances were regaled to the other team members and those who had taken harrowing calls were comforted and supported.

  “No. I don’t think that’s it,” answered Clive. “Anyway I’m not sure anyone on the team would have the skills to hack into the board. Let’s face it if they had they’d be in the computer department, not on the telephone team. I think it might be better if I monitor the board more closely, rather than the people on duty.”

  “Good thought, Clive.”

  “Yeah well, I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Not much else to do at home, you know?”

  Terry didn’t know, of course, but seemed to smile sympathetically. He wasn’t much of a ‘let’s talk to my employees’ type of manager. He was far too detached for that. However, just in case Terry decided to pursue that line of conversation, Clive stood before his personal life could be discussed further.

  “What shall I do if I see anything? Let you know?”

  “Yes, but call Crane direct first.”

  So Terry was still determined to stay out of it as much as possible. The man’s capacity for shifting the responsibility to someone else stunned Clive.

  Terry scribbled Crane’s mobile number on a post it note and passed it to Clive, who didn’t tell his boss that he had it and was already ‘the man on the inside’. He kept his face impassive. He was good at that.

  42

  It was a bright sunny morning as Crane and Dudley-Jones sat outside Sam Callaghan’s flat. Or rather, the flat he was currently sofa surfing in. Set in a street of similar properties, older style houses which were now mostly converted into apartments. They were parked in a row of cars with a good view of the communal front door.

  Crane was reminded of all the hours he’d spent on surveillance in the army. He’d never gotten used to it. For a man who likes to be on the move, surveillance was a kind of purgatory. His mobile phone ringing broke the monotony.

  Glancing at the screen before answering, he then said, “Hi, Clive. Good to hear from you. What can I do for you today?”

  “Well, hopefully, I’m doing something for you.”

  Clive’s voice was barely above a whisper and Crane motioned for Dudley-Jones to kill the radio, putting the phone on speaker so he could hear as well.

  “You okay, Clive?”

  “Yes,” he hissed. “Got a bit of information for you and I don’t want everyone to
know. I’ve just noticed a flicker on the control board. It’s as though a call was in the queue and then disappeared. It happened really quickly, but I’m sure I didn’t imagine it.”

  “What does that mean, do you think?”

  “That it could be our man. He may have re-routed that call and answered it himself.”

  “Jesus. And this has just happened you say?”

  “Yes. As soon as I saw it, I slipped out to the rest room to call you.”

  “Thanks, Clive. That was really useful.”

  Crane killed the call. “What do you think?” he asked, turning to Dudley-Jones, who looked at his laptop.

  “Callaghan’s not even on the internet, boss. At least not that I can detect. What do we do now?”

  “Get advice.” Crane picked up his phone and called Anderson. Once he’d told Derek about Clive’s call, he said, “What do you think? Should we bring him in?” Crane was unable to keep the excitement out of his voice and was already reaching for the door handle.

  “I think so. You’ve got a viable reason, suspecting him of just intercepting a call to the 999 Emergency Response system. He could be using another mobile, or a laptop with a cloaked IP address. Bring him here for interview.”

  Crane closed the call with a grin and he and Dudley-Jones left the car, after checking that the street was clear, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. From their surveillance, they had ascertained that Sam Callaghan was staying in the front flat on the first floor. A plus, as he wouldn’t have an easy way out, should he decide to run. A ground floor flat would be more problematic as Callaghan could hop out of the window and be away before Crane had even made it through the door.

  For a moment, Crane stood before the door of the refurbished house, flexing his hands, trying to control the rage that was building inside of him. He’d managed to stay detached during the long hours watching for glimpses of Sam Callaghan. But now the prize was close enough to touch. Savagely stabbing at a random button on the intercom, Crane got a reply.