The Angel of Death (The West Yorkshire Crime Thrillers Book 19) by Lee Brook

Author:Lee Brook [Brook, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Middleton Park Press
Published: 2024-11-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-two

The fluorescent lights of Elland Road Police Station’s Incident Room buzzed with an almost palpable intensity, matching the electric atmosphere that permeated the air. Detective Chief Inspector George Beaumont stood before the Big Board, his green eyes scanning the familiar faces of the victims. Harold Finch, Sally Collins, George Pearson—their lifeless gazes seemed to bore into him, a silent accusation of his failure to protect them. And now, joining their ranks, the newest victim: Martin Greaves.

The door swung open, admitting Detective Sergeant Tashan Blackburn and Detective Constable Priya Patel. George turned, noting the grim determination etched on their faces. Tashan’s imposing frame seemed to fill the doorway. Beside him, Priya’s lithe form radiated barely contained energy, her long black hair pulled back in a severe ponytail that emphasised the sharp angles of her face.

“Sir,” Tashan began, cutting through the tension, “we’ve got the preliminary report on Martin Greaves.”

George nodded, gesturing for them to continue. Priya stepped forward, her tablet in hand, fingers flying across the screen as she pulled up the relevant information.

“Martin Greaves, 35 years old,” she began, her voice crisp and professional. “Admitted to St. Jude’s yesterday for a routine liver biopsy. Type 2 diabetic, but it was well-controlled according to his medical records.”

Tashan picked up the thread, his words measured and deliberate. “He was found unresponsive at 7.30 this morning. Initial signs point to severe hypoglycaemia, just like the others.”

George felt a chill run down his spine. “Christ,” he muttered, running a hand through his blond hair. “We had Schofield in custody. How the hell did this happen?”

Priya and Tashan exchanged a glance, a silent communication passing between them. It was Priya who spoke, her dark eyes meeting George’s with unflinching intensity. “Sir, it’s looking more and more like Schofield might not be our killer after all.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. George’s jaw clenched, his mind running through the possibilities. They’d been so sure, the evidence against Schofield had seemed overwhelming. But if she wasn’t the killer…

“What about the CCTV?” George asked, his voice tight with barely suppressed frustration.

Tashan shook his head, his expression grim. “Nothing conclusive yet. We’ve got footage of a figure entering Greaves’ room about ten minutes before the estimated time of death, but their face is obscured. Height and build are consistent with our previous sightings, but…”

“But it could be anyone,” George finished, his voice heavy with resignation. They had hired an expert in the hope they could garner a height and weight, possibly even a sex, from the footage, but so far, the camera angles were making it difficult.

Priya nodded, her fingers dancing across her tablet once more. “We’ve got the SOCOs going over every inch of the room, but initial reports suggest our killer is getting better at covering their tracks. No fingerprints, no trace evidence so far.”

George turned back to the evidence board, his eyes tracing the connections they’d so painstakingly mapped out. It had all seemed so clear, so irrefutable. And now, with one brutal act, their entire case had been thrown into chaos.

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