Deep Fear by Rachel Lynch

Author:Rachel Lynch
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788630177
Publisher: Canelo Digital Publishing Ltd
Published: 2018-04-11T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

As Kelly walked to the other interview room to check progress with DC Phillips, she was handed a piece of paper. On it was a note to call a DI from West Yorkshire police. Instinct told her to act upon it sooner rather than later. She knocked on the interview room door and put her head round. The large man, arrested with Bick, was crying and Phillips was standing in the corner with his arms folded.

‘Need a word,’ Kelly said. Phillips followed her out and shut the door behind him. ‘What’s he said?’ she asked.

‘He hasn’t actually come out with many comprehendible words yet, but the ones he has are pretty interesting. He’s adamant he didn’t kill Brandy, but he’s sorry for hurting her.’

‘Has he given a name? Our lovely Bick has informed me that he’s called Jason Copeland, and his brother, Barry Copeland was there too. Apparently all three had intercourse with her the night she disappeared.’

‘Christ.’

‘Indeed. Our suspect’s DNA so far is unquestionably legitimately all over our bodies. Drop that bombshell on young Jason, and tell him his mate has dobbed him in, and see what happens. And ask him where his brother Barry is.’

Phillips nodded.

‘Thing is, none of these wasters owns a car or, as far as I can see, has access to one. Our suspect needed a car – the dogs smelled Brandy’s scent up to the road at Aira Force car park, and they smelled Moira’s up to the road where I parked – as close to the church in Watermillock as possible. These losers don’t drive. We’ve got twelve hours to get as much out of these boys as possible. But I’m chasing twelve vehicle tracks from Aira Force, and CCTV coming and going at the A592 junction, at the Glencoyne caravan Park – they’ve got the only CCTV along that road,’ she said. Phillips understood that he was to delay the boys as long as possible, so they could piece together Brandy’s last movements.

‘By the way,’ Kelly said. ‘Look, this is an example of Brian Wick’s handwriting,’ she said, holding up a piece of paper. The scrawl was that of a five-year-old, hardly a literary enthusiast.

Phillips looked at Kelly and reflected her own frustration. It would be so easy to pin everything on a gang of rampant boys who tortured for kicks, but it wasn’t to be their day. Phillips went back into the interview room and Kelly dialled the number of the DI in West Yorkshire who wanted to speak to her. It didn’t take long to track him down.

‘DI Kelly Porter? Good morning. Look, I received a memo from your constabulary about two murders you’ve had over there in Cumbria,’ said the DI.

‘Yes, that’s correct, it went out to five northern constabularies. It was a long shot, we have reason to believe that we have a mature killer, but there are no cold cases in Cumbria matching the MO. We’ve got a few missing persons and I’m chasing them. What

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