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  A glimpse of a hand, a bit of an ear – McNab only wished he had Ollie’s faith it would be enough. The Nine had been scrupulous about keeping their identities secret up till now. He believed they had killed to keep it that way. And all he had were three video clips that showed almost nothing and the vague hope of outing a policeman, against the express orders of their superiors.

  ‘What spooked them enough to kill your sister?’ McNab said.

  Danny didn’t like the question, that much was plain from his face.

  ‘Well?’ McNab insisted.

  ‘I think they found out about the recordings.’

  ‘So they know they exist?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Leila may have given the game away.’

  ‘You didn’t try some blackmail?’

  Danny shook his head vehemently. ‘No.’

  ‘What about Barry?’

  ‘He was keeping an eye on Leila for me. Who she met in the pub, that sort of thing.’

  So Barry had been watching out for Leila at her brother’s request. McNab eyed Danny. ‘You’ve definitely told me everything?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Danny’s expression was set on stubborn, so McNab let it go, for the moment. His gut feeling was telling him there was something else, maybe just a thought Danny had had, but he wasn’t willing to divulge it at the moment.

  ‘Both Ollie and I are going out on a limb on this,’ McNab told him firmly. ‘By rights I should be interviewing you under caution, asking where you were on the night Barry Fraser died, maybe even charging you with withholding evidence.’

  ‘You know I had nothing to do with Barry’s death. And maybe I should be in custody. I’d feel fucking safer.’

  Danny was right up to a point. He had brought the video recordings as requested.

  ‘We’re evens,’ McNab said, ‘for the moment, but as soon as we have something on these guys, I want you at the station giving a full statement.’

  ‘When will you have a result?’ Danny said.

  ‘Forty-eight hours,’ McNab said. ‘Keep out of sight until then.’

  54

  Freya nestled the backpack against her shoulder, feeling the weight and significance of its contents. Grant had been right. A Witch’s Book of Shadows should be burned on her passing.

  She imagined how they might do that, she and Danny, when this was all over, then suddenly realized it would never truly be over for Danny and that Leila’s precious book would become a piece of evidence handled by scores of people.

  Such a thought brought her deep disquiet.

  Leila’s spells were hers alone, their potency dependent on her power as a Witch. Their exposure, the secret of her thoughts and wishes, might mean she would enjoy no peace in the afterlife.

  For that reason, the Book of Shadows should be burned.

  Taking the Book of Shadows home now seemed wrong. Leila’s place of worship felt the lesser violation but, as far as she was aware, the police were still in there.

  Then a thought struck.

  If she couldn’t gain access to Leila’s place of worship, perhaps access to Leila’s flat might be possible? There she would be close to Leila, maybe even gain her spirit guidance in what she was about to attempt. Wiccans believed in reincarnation, but there was also ‘the time between’, the length of time spent between lives, when those who had passed became spirit guides or guardian angels for those left behind. That comforting thought grew in Freya’s mind until it was the only one.

  Rhona was in the midst of checking all the forensic results received. It was as yet a sporadic picture and she had no clear indication that Mark Howitt’s confession had any forensic basis in the truth.

  One thing was certain, however. She believed the person who’d tied the knots in the cingulum used to hang Leila was right-handed and she now knew that Leila and Mark Howitt, the chief suspect and the man she’d taken home that fateful night, were not.

  Neither Leila nor Mark had tied the slip knot that had been used to hang her.

  Added to that, the video McNab had shown her of the hand inserting the material into Leila’s mouth had been of a right-handed man.

  People didn’t lead by the right if they were left-handed.

  She was also running a search on the DNA database, identifying police officers currently involved in a case. It was a valid search on her part and hadn’t as yet caused any disquiet. How she would deal with the list this achieved was something Rhona wasn’t yet sure of.

  Her mobile rang around eleven and Rhona was pleased to see Freya’s name on the screen.

  ‘Freya?’

  ‘I’m sorry to call on a Saturday.’

  ‘No worries. I’m at home, but working.’

  The voice on the other end hesitated.

  ‘What is it?’ Rhona said encouragingly.

  ‘I have Leila’s Book of Shadows.’

  It was obvious by her manner that Freya thought Rhona would know what she was referring to. Thanks to Magnus, Rhona did.

  ‘May I ask how you have it?’

  ‘Danny brought it to me this morning.’

  So it had been Danny who’d removed the book from the altar. Rhona waited, giving Freya time to continue.

  ‘It may contain references which might be useful to your investigation,’ Freya said.

  ‘How can I help?’ Rhona immediately offered.

  ‘This may sound strange,’ Freya rushed on, ‘but I think it would be easier to interpret the writings if I felt closer to Leila.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Could you and I gain access to the place she died?’

  ‘Her flat?’

  ‘Yes.’

  As Chief Forensic Scientist, Rhona could request to revisit the crime scene, but should she take Freya with her?

  ‘What do you want to do there?’

  ‘Decipher what Leila wrote about the Nine.’

  A sense of death still lingered here. The smell of it had dissipated, replaced by chemicals used in the forensic examination, plus dust and disuse. Rhona imagined she could hear the steady beat of her heart in the depth of the silence and could see from the rapid pulse in Freya’s neck that her heart was racing.

  ‘Which room would be best?’ Rhona said.

  ‘Where did Leila die?’ Freya was struggling to hold her voice steady.

  ‘Probably the room with the dolls.’

  Freya was looking at her, puzzled. ‘What dolls?’ she said.

  Rhona pointed at the closed door, her memory of the last time she’d opened it as powerful as ever.

  ‘There were twenty-seven Barbie-type dolls hanging in there, in rows of nine and split by hair colour, red, blonde and brunette. We found Leila’s body behind them.’

  After hesitating about whether she should reveal this fact at all, Freya’s reaction was the last thing Rhona expected.

  Freya gave a little laugh.

  ‘The pattern of three and nine is very powerful in Wicca,’ she explained, ‘and the dolls I believe represented the Goddess Freya. This was Leila’s way of making the room powerful. They shouldn’t have killed her in there.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Rhona said.

  ‘Wiccans believe if you give of yourself – your love; your life –you will be thrice rewarded,’ Freya said. ‘But send forth harm and that too will return thrice over.’

  55

  ‘I would suggest you get the advice of a handwriting expert,’ Magnus said. ‘But in my opinion this is a false confession.’

  ‘Why?’ Bill said.

  ‘I’ve watched the taped interview with McNab. The suspect wants to confess to what he remembers happened and by his mannerisms, his voice, the words he chooses, I would say he’s telling the truth. He feels enormous guilt, which of course might also be present if he had killed Leila, but the honest detail he gives convinces me that he didn’t. The relief too, when McNab points out that the hand in the video isn’t his.’

  ‘So what changed between that interview and the written confessi
on in the cell?’ Bill said.

  Magnus indicated the copy before him.

  I, Mark Howitt, confess to the killing of Leila Hardy, Shannon Jones and the barman Barry Fraser. I killed Shannon Jones and Barry Fraser because they could identify me as the man who left the pub with Leila that night. No one else will die now.

  ‘Compared to the examples you have of the suspect’s normal handwriting, this script suggests he’s doing this under duress, like a confession looks when given under torture. And the last sentence: No one else will die now. Who’s saying that? I don’t believe it’s the suspect. It sounds to me like a repeat of something he’s been told.’

  Bill nodded his agreement. ‘DS McNab believes Mark met with the man who sent the video, although as you saw he denied this in the interview.’

  ‘Something was done or said to cause Mark to both confess, then commit suicide.’

  ‘Mark’s father is a well-respected QC with a terminally ill wife, who isn’t expected to live much longer.’

  Magnus contemplated this. ‘So, the psychological pressure on the suspect was even greater than I was aware.’ He paused. ‘Were Mark and his mother close?’

  ‘Apparently so, although she’d kept the extent of her illness a secret from him. When his father revealed it, Mark wanted to go and see his mother, but his father refused to allow that.’

  ‘Can I ask why?’

  ‘Apparently the mother had forbidden her husband to tell Mark how close the end was.’

  ‘Yet he did?’ Magnus said. ‘May I ask what you plan to do about this?’

  ‘Make sure that Mark Howitt’s confession and his suicide do not close down this enquiry.’

  It was a meeting that had to be faced, yet Bill wasn’t sure it was quite the time to do it. If he revealed he’d been conducting his own private enquiry into the identity of the police officer who’d had sex with Leila Hardy, that search was unlikely to be permitted to progress any further.

  Superintendent Sutherland might be persuaded into giving his reasons for keeping the name of the officer under wraps, but Bill didn’t hold out much hope that he would. There could be many reasons for doing so, one of which stood uppermost in Bill’s mind, namely that by making the officer’s identity common knowledge, it might endanger his life.

  Having made his decision, Bill knocked on the door and awaited permission to enter.

  When that didn’t happen, Bill chose to walk in anyway. He found Sutherland on the phone. When he was shot a warning glance, Bill chose to stand his ground, which essentially meant the phone call had to come to an end.

  ‘Sorry, sir, I thought I heard a “come in”.’

  ‘You didn’t, Detective Inspector.’

  ‘Then would you prefer me to come back later, sir?’

  ‘No.’

  Sutherland didn’t wave him to a seat, so Bill continued standing. He preferred it that way because he got to look down on his superior officer rather than meet him eye to eye.

  ‘Go on, Inspector. What did you wish to say?’

  ‘We believe the confession from the suspect Mark Howitt is a false one, made under duress.’

  Sutherland was immediately on to that. ‘What duress?’

  ‘We believe he met with the person blackmailing him about his involvement with the victim and was persuaded to help end the killing by taking responsibility for it.’

  ‘Why would he do such a thing?’

  Bill said what he had expressly come to say. ‘I believe either his father or his mother were threatened, sir, and that tipped him over the edge.’ As he spoke, Bill studied Sutherland’s expression. Always closed, never giving anything away, except perhaps irritation, Bill detected a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Sutherland, he decided, had not seen that one coming.

  ‘And your evidence for this?’

  ‘His interview with DS McNab was viewed by criminal psychologist Professor Magnus Pirie. He suggested that when Mark used the words “No one else will die” in his confession, he was repeating the words of his blackmailer.’

  Sutherland swung his chair round at this point, blocking Bill’s view of his expression. It was a tactic Bill used himself and he understood the reason for it. He waited quietly for Sutherland to turn to him again.

  ‘I believe you and Mark Howitt QC are old friends, and that you spoke to him personally about the death of his son,’ Sutherland said.

  ‘I did, sir.’

  ‘Did you run this theory past him?’

  ‘No, sir. I hadn’t formulated it by then.’

  ‘Did he give any indication that he thought he might be under threat?’

  ‘No, sir, he did not.’

  ‘Clearly this will be a distressing time for him. I would like him shielded from the press as much as possible, particularly since his wife’s death seems imminent.’

  ‘I agree, sir.’

  ‘And where are we in identifying the Nine?’

  It was a question Bill didn’t expect to be asked, so wasn’t sure how to answer. Eventually he went for the truth. ‘No further forward except for the serving officer.’

  Sutherland looked slightly taken aback at this. ‘You have identified him, Inspector?’

  ‘I have a list of possibilities,’ Bill said honestly.

  ‘Then we should discuss them.’

  56

  She’d helped Freya carry a small writing table and chair from the bedroom through to the dolls’ room. There Freya had reverently laid the green leather Book of Shadows and the volumes on runic script, the ones she’d checked out of the library.

  Rhona was keen to view the contents of Leila’s book, but got the impression that Freya didn’t want her to. Yet.

  ‘A Witch’s Book of Shadows is very personal. It shouldn’t be handled by others. I promised Danny to keep it safe,’ Freya said. ‘Once I do what he asked, then he says he’ll hand it over to Detective Sergeant McNab.’

  It was a reasonable request and, Rhona decided, one she could comply with. So she took herself into the kitchen and set up her laptop there. From what Freya had said, McNab wasn’t yet aware of the book’s existence and that Freya now had it.

  Rhona contemplated warning him of this, then decided not to.

  She had a feeling he would find out soon enough.

  The quiet in the flat continued unbroken. Had she been asked to describe it, Rhona would have said it was the silence of the dead. Wandering through to the bedroom, she had a sense of what the flat must have been like when Leila lived there. One thing was obvious: Leila had loved bright colours and pretty things. She had been a vibrant, intelligent woman who should have had a long life ahead of her. A life someone had stolen.

  Two hours passed before Freya called out to her.

  On entering the room, Rhona discovered the table and chair had been moved to the place Leila had been found hanging. The hook itself was now stored with the other forensic evidence taken from the flat, and Rhona hadn’t mentioned the spot’s significance.

  ‘This is where she died, isn’t it?’ Freya said.

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘Where are the dolls now?’

  ‘Stored with the other forensic evidence.’

  ‘Did the dolls tell you anything?’

  ‘Nine of them had a sketch inside, together with semen samples.’

  ‘There’s a sketch of each of the men in here too.’ She gestured Rhona over. ‘But I haven’t been able to translate the runes. They don’t match what’s in the books I brought.’ Worry and exhaustion etched Freya’s face. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Freya pushed the open book across for Rhona to view.

  This time the drawings were more detailed, making the others hidden in the dolls mere pointers to their entry here.

  ‘Is that a date of birth?’ Rhona said.

  ‘I think so. The following number is their birth number derived from it. Then I think it’s the spell she cast, and a paragraph maybe about the outcome of the spell, or further details of the subject associated with
the spell.’

  ‘Which would be very useful,’ Rhona said.

  ‘I know.’ Freya looked dejected.

  Dusk had fallen outside and the room was filled with long shadows. The view across the lane was of the curved windows of the upper floors of the Lion Chambers, and the empty rooms beyond.

  ‘Shall we call it a day?’ Rhona said. ‘Get something to eat and try again tomorrow?’

  Freya thought about that.

  ‘Can you fetch something in and some coffee? I’d like to stay a little longer.’

  ‘You’ll be all right here on your own?’ Rhona asked.

  ‘I’m not alone,’ Freya assured her.

  When Rhona departed, Freya took out her mobile. Keen not to be disturbed, she’d switched it off on her way here. Two texts pinged in. One from Michael suggesting they meet up. The other from Danny asking what was happening with the Book of Shadows.

  Freya dialled a different number.

  ‘Grant, I need some help with the runic alphabet in Leila’s Book of Shadows.’

  57

  Danny pressed the buzzer again, keeping his finger on it longer this time.

  Freya had said she was taking the Book of Shadows home, therefore she must be here.

  Eventually someone from a different flat let him in just to stop the noise.

  Danny took the stairs two at a time. When he’d got no response from Freya’s mobile, he’d assumed she was concentrating and didn’t want to be disturbed.

  Now he wasn’t so sure that was the reason.

  I shouldn’t have left her.

  I should have taken her home. I should have made sure she was okay.

  When he reached her door, Danny stood for a moment, determined to calm himself, not wanting Freya to see his fear.

  He rapped and waited.

  When there was no response, he tried again, louder this time.

  The third time he banged and shouted through the letter box: ‘Freya, it’s Danny!’

  At that point a door opened on the upper landing and a guy’s head appeared above him.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, mate, give it a break. She’s either not in or she doesn’t want to speak to you.’