Dead To Me

by Stephen Edger

Genres: Police Procedurals; Crime Fiction; Suspense

Synopsis

How do you catch a killer who knows your every move? The woman lay flat on the table, her face to one side, her wrists bound with thick tape. Deep scratches marked the wood beneath her fingers, now resting cold and still... When a woman’s body is found in an abandoned bar near the Southampton docks, Detective Kate Matthews is called in to lead the investigation. She must solve this case to prove she is coping with the death of a close colleague. Kate knows a pile of ripped up newspaper cuttings discovered at the victim’s house must be a piece of the puzzle, but her team keep hitting dead-ends... Until she finds a disturbing clue that convinces her of three things: The murder is linked to the body of a man found hanging in a warehouse, she is on the hunt for a calculated serial killer, and the killer is watching her every move. Kate realises there will be another victim soon, and that her own life is in grave danger, but no one else believes her theory. Can she find and stop the most twisted killer of her career, before another life is lost? An absolutely NAIL-BITING thriller that will keep you guessing to the very last page. Perfect for fans of Robert Dugoni, James Patterson and MJ Arlidge. What readers are saying about Dead to Me : ‘ I absolutely adored this book! An enthralling mystery, fast paced and thrilling; absolutely unputdownable. I did not want it to end and yet was frantically turning the pages to find out what was really going on. Brilliant writing. Loved Detective Kate Matthews - cannot wait for more books with her. So glad I discovered this incredible author.’ Goodreads Reviewer, 5 stars ‘ A tense cat and mouse thriller that leaves your brain in a whirl!... Without giving away any spoilers, Watching You had the hairs on my neck on end as I checked and double checked my doors and windows were locked. The stalking element of this novel sent shivers down my spine!... It was certainly a fast paced and action filled plot, plenty of twists and turns and red herrings to keep the reader detectives amongst us happy! ’ Chapter in My Life ‘A brilliant thriller that will keep you gripped and turning pages right to the end. I was also kept in suspense until the end. Highly recommend.’ Goodreads Reviewer, 5 stars ‘The killer is on a rampage, leaving a trail of bodies with macabre clues that Kate must solve if she is to stop the killing. Intense and creepy.’ Cayo Costa, 5 stars ‘An enthralling, fast paced mystery that kept me hooked from the very start. The murders had me so intrigued and I was desperate to find out who was behind such twisted deaths… I really enjoyed reading this one and I would definitely read more of Stephen's work. Congratulations on a great book! ’ Breakfast at Shelby’s ‘ Wow this book was good, I really enjoyed it.  Kate is a very dedicated and driven police officer whose private life is a mess. You can’t help but like her. This book has a lot going for it; it is gritty, brutally honest in places and full of suspense. I really found this book hard to put down. It totally had me engaged right the way through. This is the first book that I have read by Stephen Edger and I am definitely going to check out his others… This was a cracking read! ’ Bonnie’s Book Talk

Release date: August 17, 2017

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 334

Sample

DI Kate Matthews slammed her hand down on the rim of the steering wheel as the minutes on the dashboard clock ticked past. ‘No, no, no, no!’ An accident on the A33 had caused delays across Southampton, and the slow crawl to the station was now being impeded further by a set of temporary traffic lights at the top of Shirley High Street. She could see the police headquarters building from where she was sitting and was tempted to abandon her car, hightailing it on foot. The supe would be pacing in his office by now. She should have phoned in sick or embellished on her ailing mother’s condition, but then she’d have felt guilty all day. She couldn’t understand why her alarm hadn’t gone off at six, as usual. She’d definitely set it when she’d gone to bed. Could she really have switched it off during the night?

The lights turned green and, rather than waiting for the old woman two cars in front to finally figure out where first gear was, Kate pulled out and shot past, narrowly missing the offside wing of a stationary car at the opposite set of lights. At the bottom of the road she swung across the roundabout into her parking space, then hurried into the station.

Racing up the stairs, she arrived, panting, at the third floor, and caught her reflection in the glass panel of the office door. She’d never been one for worrying about her appearance, but she stopped to quickly smooth her top, straighten her jacket, and fish in her handbag for a hair tie to pull her chocolate-brown hair back from her face. Brushing a few toast crumbs from the edge of her lips she forced a smile, revealing two slight dimples in each cheek. It would do.

Kate stepped into the open-plan office, nodding to DS Samir Patel, who didn’t hide his irritation as he checked his watch and shook his head. She could have pulled him up for that, but there wasn’t the time. She was sure he was still frustrated that her arrival in the department had robbed him of his shot of a promotion.

She threw her bag onto the desk and unlocked her workstation. She didn’t envy the supe having a tiny office shut away from the world: she liked being around the team; she enjoyed the banter. Not that many of them had attempted to engage with her recently. It was almost as if they saw her losing streak as a form of leprosy; they’d do anything to avoid becoming infected.

‘Morning, ma’am,’ DC Trotter offered cheerily, placing a mug of coffee on the desk in front of Kate, her blonde hair bobbing as she skipped back to her own desk.

‘Morning, Laura. Give me five minutes to get myself straight and then we can have a look at—’

‘The supe wants to see you first,’ Patel interrupted without looking up. He was cleaning out the coffee machine again; his daily ritual.

Locking her computer, Kate smiled at Laura across the room, as if it was nothing. ‘You’d better give me ten minutes instead. I’ll grab you when I’m ready.’

She tried to act casual as she strolled back along the corridor to the supe’s office, a cold dread swirling inside her. Taking a deep breath, she knocked twice and entered.

Detective Superintendent Williams began speaking before she’d even shut the door behind her. ‘What the hell went wrong yesterday? You assured me he would go down. You said there was no way a jury wouldn’t convict.’

Kate had asked herself the same question more than a dozen times, but still didn’t have a definitive answer. ‘I don’t know what to say, sir. The CPS said we would—’

‘I don’t give a shit what the CPS said! You managed the enquiry. You gathered the evidence. You oversaw the interviews. I just don’t understand, Matthews. Do you not like it here? Is that the problem? You don’t think we’re as good as the Met, so you don’t want to try as hard. Is that it?’

‘No, sir.’

The vein in the centre of his forehead was throbbing. ‘You’ve been with us for four months, four months, and you’re yet to successfully secure a conviction. It’s not like you haven’t had plenty of opportunities.’ He began pacing in front of the large window behind his desk. ‘I was warned that I was taking a chance by bringing you in to the team, but I followed my gut and now you’re making me look like an old fool.’

‘Please, sir, what happened yesterday was unfortunate—’

‘Really? That’s how you’d describe that bloody shambles? Symptomatic: that’s the word I’d use. Am I wrong?’

She sighed; there was no point in arguing with him. ‘No, sir.’

‘DCI Vaughn would be turning in his grave if he could see what a bloody pig’s ear you were making of his unit. He was meticulous in his case preparation.’

Kate kept her head bowed as the supe once again waxed lyrical about the man she’d been brought in to replace. How could she ever compete with a living legend, struck down in his prime?

‘Yes?’

Patel’s head had popped around the door as the supe answered his knock. ‘Apologies for the interruption, sir. We’ve just taken a call about a fire at a dockside warehouse. Uniform are on scene with paramedics and the fire brigade.’

‘And?’

‘And, they’ve just found a body inside; sir, it’s missing its head and feet. Inspector Bentley wants us down there straight away.’

‘Okay. Send DI Underhill in as SIO.’

‘He’s still tied up with that body they found on Saturday night, sir.’

DSI Williams glanced down at Kate, who looked pleadingly in his direction. He narrowed his eyes, and sighed.

‘Very well, Matthews, get yourself down there and secure the scene. Make sure everyone knows what they are doing and report back to me at the first possible opportunity. That’ll be all, DS Patel.’

He waited until Patel had closed the door and then leaned in towards Kate. ‘I want regular updates on your progress, you hear me? Do not drop the ball on this one.’

Kate parked the Audi next to one of the patrol cars and rested her spare ID card on the dashboard so nobody would have reason to question its presence at the scene. Patel and Laura pulled up in a squad car.

A rush of adrenaline swept over her. Nothing ever quite compared to the buzz of a new crime scene, an untouched puzzle fresh out of the box. She locked her car, and walked over to join them.

‘Patel, tell me everything you were told over the phone.’

He opened his notebook. ‘An anonymous 999 call was placed just after four this morning reporting flames at the dockside. A police community support officer was first on scene, swiftly followed by the fire brigade, but by this point the warehouse was inaccessible. Due to the size and contents of the warehouse, it has taken until now to extinguish the blaze. On entering the structure, fire crews located a scorched body, hanging from a hook and chain in the ceiling. On closer inspection they discovered the victim’s head and feet had been severed; they have not been located yet.

‘Inspector Bentley set up the perimeter, but you might want to move it depending what the Fire Service Incident Commander says.’

Kate looked around; it was just possible to imagine what the warehouse had originally been: the stanchions that had survived the blaze were black with soot, with great steel struts bent and twisted from severe heat exposure. It was like a giant gothic sculpture. A cocktail of steam and smoke billowed into the sky where the corrugated plastic roof had once rested. The air was thick with ash. Beneath her feet, water pooled in small waves as the swarm of firefighters, their beige uniforms damp and creaking, battled to put out the last of the flames. She had a deep respect for those men and women who risked their lives with every fire they tackled. Her great-grandfather had served during the Blitz, and she could remember him telling her stories as a child. He was her first hero; she’d even considered following in his footsteps.

Kate identified the three of them to the uniformed officer guarding the perimeter. He showed them where they should sign in and change into protective polythene suits. Ducking beneath the cordon tape, she then located the FSIC and walked over to introduce herself. He was talking on the phone and looked up as she presented her badge.

‘What can you tell me about the fire? Was it deliberate?’

‘It’s too early to say,’ he half-whispered, covering the mouthpiece.

‘Can you offer an informed guess?’

He waved Kate away and, tempting as it was to yank the phone from his ear and hurl it into the nearby waves, she bit her lip and looked around, to find Inspector Bentley beckoning them over.

He looked sharp, as always, his dark uniform freshly pressed and his pointy chin showing the sting of a razor. ‘Morning, Matthews. I take it you’re SIO?’

She nodded, the supe’s warning still ringing in her ears.

Bentley walked them closer to the smouldering pillars. ‘We believe the fire started just in there.’ He pointed an outstretched finger towards the gap where the aluminium walls had once stood. ‘The warehouse was being used to store a number of accelerants. It looks like bottles of whisky or similar, but there were also pressurised gas canisters. The first responders said the rear of the building was ablaze when they arrived, but it quickly spread.’

‘Where was the body found?’

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Follow me,’ he said, leading them around the outside of what used to be the main building but was now a mess of twisted metal, melted plastic, and ash. He pointed at a chain hanging down in the middle of the shell. ‘There. That’s where the body was hanging. The spike was buried deep in his back, like some kind of sick piñata.’

Kate’s eyes stung from the smoke in the air, but she could still make out the steel chain, blackened and dripping. Even from a distance the sharp hook that hung from the chain looked menacing. ‘Christ,’ was all she could muster, winning her a disapproving look from Patel that she chose to ignore. ‘And where’s the body now?’

‘We had to move it. The FSIC had concerns over the stability of the frame.’

‘What can you tell me about the victim? Male? Female?’

Bentley shrugged. ‘Toss a coin and take your pick. It looked like a lump of well-done barbecued meat to me. The pathologist will know.’

‘Is it safe now? I want to get the Scene of Crime Officers in as quickly as possible.’

‘I’ll have to check with the FSIC. They’ve been testing the frames for rigidity.’

‘We need to treat this area as the primary crime scene. What evidence there is – if it hasn’t all been burnt or washed away – needs to be collected and processed.’ She turned to Patel. ‘See if you can get a floorplan or blueprints for this place. It would be good to know how it looked before the blaze.’

Patel nodded and moved away, pulling out his phone.

She turned back to Bentley. ‘Can you tell me anything at all about the victim? Was any identification found?’

‘We couldn’t even tell clothes from flesh, I’m afraid.’

Her skin prickled. ‘So, we’re thinking the victim was lured here, decapitated and feet amputated, then strung up like a piece of meat?’

‘You’re the detective…’

They both gazed up at the hook. ‘Find out when we can get Scientific Services in there, will you? We need to act quickly, before there’s no crime scene left to explore.’

Bentley nodded, and Kate signalled for Laura to follow her, stopping when they reached two uniformed officers standing with their backs to a white sheet over a large mound. The women covered their mouths as the stench of burned flesh overpowered the thick smoke in the air. Kate showed the uniforms her identification and they were allowed through.

She gently peeled a corner of the sheet away.

Laura gagged.

Taking a breath, Kate lowered the sheet and stepped back, allowing her eyes to wander across the scene, blurring out the individuals in protective clothing and headgear going about their duties.

‘Remember to always apply the “ABC” principle, Laura: assume nothing; believe nothing; check everything. Until we know more, we are going to treat this as a Category-A murder enquiry. I want you to find out who owns this warehouse, whether that person is our victim, and if not, whether they might have an idea who our victim is—’

‘Ma’am,’ Patel interrupted, rushing over. ‘The warehouse belongs to Danny Fenton.’

Kate’s head snapped round to where Patel stood panting. ‘The Danny Fenton?’

He nodded, a grin starting to spread. ‘The very same.’

She stared at the covered mass before her. Could it be?

She turned back to Laura. ‘Confirm that for me, will you? I need to get back to the station and set up the Incident Room. Get yourselves back there as soon as you’re done. I want to brief the team within the hour. The supe will want to know if Southampton’s most wanted has just been killed.’

DSI Williams removed his reading glasses and nibbled one of the legs. ‘And you’re sure the warehouse belongs to Fenton?’

Kate nodded. ‘DC Trotter just confirmed it on the phone.’

‘And you think the victim could be Fenton himself? Retaliation for what happened with the smuggling operation earlier this year?’

The two orange fish on the filing cabinet fought over a coloured stone at the base of their bowl. Kate’s eyes wandered to them, and then back to the supe.

‘Your guess is as good as mine, sir. There’s nothing to suggest it was Fenton, other than the body being found on his property.’

‘Have you briefed your team yet?’

‘Not yet. I’ve got them gathered in the office, and we’ll set up a Major Incident Room as soon as you give the green light.’

DSI Williams sighed. ‘Two murders in a week is not what we need with our overtime budget under scrutiny.’

‘I’m pretty sure the victim didn’t remove his own head and feet, sir.’

He didn’t pick up on the sarcasm. ‘Very well. I want you to speak with DI Hendrix from the Organised Crime team. Her lot have been investigating Fenton and his syndicate for years. I don’t want you treading on anyone’s toes, and she could provide valuable insight into his recent movements.’

Kate had only met Hendrix once before, on one of those ‘Stress in the Workplace’ courses. It had been a waste of time, of course, but the two of them had shared a bottle of rosé on the first night, discussing their roots. Hendrix’s parents had escaped apartheid and moved to the UK when she was only four, so although she didn’t have a South African accent, her pronunciation of certain words was heavily influenced by her birthplace. Her stunning looks and short cropped hair endorsed her formidable attitude. Kate had heard the stories about her tearing strips off her team in public, but knew her to be someone who got the job done.

‘She’s on her way over now, sir. She’s as keen to know whether Fenton’s dead as I am.’

‘Good. That’s good work, Kate. I’m comfortable with you treating this as a Category-A until we know more. I’ll see how many detectives DI Underhill can spare you. For now, brief the full team, and then afterwards, you, Underhill and I will sort out who does what. I’ll join the briefing in a few moments, but you’d better make a start.’

Kate paused at the door to compose herself for a moment. Striding in, she called for everyone’s attention as she cleaned the large whiteboard that covered most of the wall behind her desk. Only Laura looked up. Eddie Vaughn’s face loomed at her from the photograph above his memorial plaque, grinning at her inadequacy. He was lucky: he’d died a hero to the men and women in this building. She hated how his eyes seemed to follow her around the room: one more person judging her.

She banged the whiteboard cleaner against the wall, until the hubbub ceased. Picking up a marker pen, she wrote the date. ‘An anonymous 999 call was made in the early hours of this morning – at four a.m. – reporting a fire at a dockside warehouse. The warehouse belongs to none other than our favourite local hood, Danny Fenton.’

A few rumblings echoed from the gathered team.

‘I know Fenton’s reputation precedes him, but I’ve asked DI Hendrix from Organised Crime to stop by and enlighten those who don’t know who he is.’

She threw the pen to Patel and asked him to start recording notes on the whiteboard while she updated the team on what they’d learned at the docks.

Patel wrote ‘arson’ under ‘crime’ as she continued: ‘As already confirmed, there is no sign of the victim’s head or feet. The FSIC will continue his analysis of the scene and will notify us if he discovers anything else of use. The media are aware of the fire, but for now we will keep the discovery of the body under wraps. The last thing we want is a spotlight on us. What I want from you is background: what vehicles were seen in the vicinity before and after the fire started; find any CCTV that could show us what happened; speak to the call handler who received the tip-off, and get a copy of that call so we can identify who made it; contact the owners of neighbouring units at the docks and find out if there are any witnesses who saw what went on. Without a head, there is a chance the pathologist will struggle to make a formal identification, which means we need to use good old-fashioned police work to determine who he is. If Fenton is the victim, I want someone to work with Hendrix’s team to identify who had motive to want him dead.’

The door at the opposite end of the room opened and the supe led Hendrix in, talking in hushed whispers. Kate caught her eye and beckoned her over.

Hendrix approached the front and stuck an A4 coloured headshot of Danny Fenton on the whiteboard. ‘Daniel Thomas Fenton is a captain in the Quinn crime syndicate. If he is the victim found this morning, you need to look into members of the Thompson clan, and in particular,’ she paused and stuck a second photograph on the board, ‘this man: Harold Watson. Six months ago, my team raided a warehouse owned by one of Watson’s associates. Inside we discovered close to half a ton of cocaine, with a street value of ninety million. The cocaine came from Venezuela, and was transported to Norway, where it was packaged with frozen cod and haddock, before sailing to the UK. Neither Watson nor Fenton were anywhere near the seizure, but we arrested several small-time members of both crime syndicates. They are fierce rivals, and this was the first time we’ve found them in partnership. The small fry we caught couldn’t have organised anything as big as that haul, but we couldn’t get any of them to turn in the ringleaders.

‘Anyway, fast forward to last month, and we caught sight of Fenton and Watson meeting several times in the space of a few days. We couldn’t get close enough to hear what they were saying, but we have reason to believe they are trying to find the person who tipped us off about the operation. Fingers are being pointed and we’ve been waiting for some kind of retaliation from one or both of the groups. If Fenton is dead then Watson is our main suspect, and we will need to act fast to stop this escalating into a full-scale war.’ She stared at Kate. ‘Which is why I want to offer the support of my team to help with your enquiry. They know these people inside and out, and they’ll help you cut through a lot of the bullshit responses you’ll get from the streets.’

Kate was wary of any voluntary offers of support from Hendrix, who had made no secret of her own ambitions before, but thanked her gracefully for the offer.

Hendrix stepped away from the board as Kate moved forward. ‘You’ve got your assignments. It’s midday. I want updates by six, and then we’ll plan next steps from there. You heard what Hendrix said: we need to work quickly. The clock is ticking.’

They’d been sitting in the supe’s office for over ten minutes, waiting for him to arrive. DI Underhill was stretched out in his seat, hands behind his head, belching every now and again without apologising. Kate ignored him, along with the incessant buzzing from the phone in her pocket.

Underhill was a jock; the sort of guy who used phrases like ‘banter’ to undercut an insult he’d just hurled out. He wasn’t someone Kate usually had to spend too much time with, and for that she was grateful. She couldn’t fault his record, or the way he managed to motivate his team when called upon, but it was his puerile behaviour in between times that really riled her.

Having two murder enquiries running side-by-side was going to make minimal interaction more challenging. The team of detectives was already stretched thin with several seconded to one task force or another, so ensuring she had adequate resources to catch the warehouse arsonist was going to take careful negotiation. The supe had made it clear which of them was his favourite.

DSI Williams entered the office, dropping a leather briefcase next to his desk and removing a small bottle of mineral water from the fridge in the corner of the room.

‘Ah good, you’re both here. Right, let’s divvy up what you need. Underhill, you go first.’

He smirked at Kate before sitting up and straightening his tie. ‘We still don’t have a name to go with our victim, sir, and there isn’t much by way of security-camera footage in the area where her body was found. The pathologist confirmed she is of Chinese descent, but there’s no way of knowing if she was born over there or here in the UK. We’ve run her prints and DNA through the database but have had no hits, so no prior record. What we do know is that she was drowned, probably held beneath the water, judging by the markings around her neck. What’s interesting is there are no obvious defensive wounds. We’re still waiting on confirmation of any drugs in her system, but we should have that detail today.’

The superintendent cleared his throat. ‘I need a team to canvass the area, going door-to-door looking for anyone who can confirm if they saw or heard anything strange on Saturday night or Sunday morning. I need someone to review the missing persons reports to see if her face matches any local absentees. If that proves fruitless, we’ll need to reach out to the neighbouring counties. What little security footage there is needs to be carefully reviewed. She wasn’t drowned at the skate park, so the killer had to have brought her there somehow. I think I need at least two dedicated to reviewing that footage, identifying and ruling out vehicles in the area.’ He flicked his eyes at Kate, relishing her reaction. ‘I’m looking for at least ten detectives with a couple of uniforms to support the house-to-house enquiries. At the moment, sir, we’re looking for a needle in a haystack, so the more eyes and hands I’ve got, the better.’

‘That’s practically the whole unit!’ Kate objected, ‘Sir, you can’t—’

DSI Williams raised his hand to cut her off. ‘Matthews, you go next.’

Kate glared at Underhill, before softening her expression as she turned to face the supe. ‘Sir, I’d say my investigation is already further along than Underhill’s. We don’t yet have an ID, but the docks are covered in security cameras so it shouldn’t be too difficult to identify who he is, if the pathologist doesn’t get there first. I need two or three to watch the footage and half a dozen on the street to prevent things escalating between the two syndicates. Then there’s a team in the water checking to see if the murder weapon was dumped there; I want—’

The superintendent raised his hand again. ‘Divers? You know we don’t have the budget for divers. I’m sorry, that’s out of the question.’

‘But, sir, if—’

‘No, Matthews. I’ve already told y. . .