Tania Carver: The Creeper

‘Don’t try to deny it, Mark, we’ve seen the photos of you both together on Facebook. If you weren’t seeing each other then you were very close friends. Unnaturally close. Close enough to make someone else jealous.’

He didn’t reply.

‘Then there was Suzanne. But where does Adele fit into this? When were you seeing her?’

‘On and off…’

‘When you were seeing Suzanne?’

He nodded.

‘Two-timing and a murderer. And you didn’t know she was the Creeper’s sister? Didn’t Fiona tell you? Not like her to forget something as important as that, is it? In the New World Order of your relationship.’

Tears welled in Turner’s eyes.

‘Did you kill her, Mark? Adele?’

He paused, his head forward. Like a condemned man reluctantly reaching for the noose.

‘What happened?’

He sighed. Stared straight ahead, seeing something Mickey couldn’t. Didn’t want to. ‘I’d been talking to Adele…’

‘Talking?’

‘Well… a bit more than that…’

‘You had sex.’

Turner looked away, nodded.

‘So you’d kidnapped Adele Harrison-’

‘The Creeper did that.’

‘Right. The Creeper did that. But you helped. You went along with it.’

Turner said nothing. Mickey continued. ‘You had her captive and then… what? You had sex.’

Another shrug.

‘Why?’

‘Because I still… had feelings for her.’ He leaned forward, arms on the table, hands out expressively. ‘I saw her there, scared and, and… and I wanted her.’

‘So you had her.’

‘Yes.’

‘You raped her?’

‘No…’ He looked shocked at the thought.

‘But… what? This rekindled feelings for her? You felt something for her again, is that it?’

‘Yes…’ Sounding like it was painful to have the word dragged out of him.

‘And you…what? Promised to let her go?’

‘Yes.’

‘Tell me, Mark. Tell me what happened. Your own words.’

Turner sighed. Mickey saw the conflicting emotions fighting for dominance on his face. In the end, resignation won out and Turner, sighing and shoulders heaving, started to talk.

The Creeper was confused. Confused and getting angry.

This wasn’t how he’d imagined it. Not at all.

When he heard Rani’s voice in his head once more, talking to him, telling him to come and meet her, he was almost too excited for words. Couldn’t wait to get there and see her, leave the husk on the boat, rig the charges just like she said. He’d watched it go boom, seen the flames streak up to the sky. Huge they were, the policemen running away tiny by comparison.

He had smiled watching that. Giggled.

He had done that. Made that happen. All that power, all his…

And then the anticipation, meeting Rani, face to face, at last…

And then the disappointment.

When he had agreed to meet her after the fire he had been excited, thrilled, shaking with anticipation. And what a let-down. She wasn’t Rani, wasn’t anything like Rani. She was that psychologist from the hospital, the one they had made him go and see.

So where was Rani? He had started to ask her that but she had just waved him and his questions aside. Literally, her arm waving at him dismissively, then walking away, getting him to follow her. Saying Rani had left her with a list of things for him to do. And despite the fact that she made him feel unsure, uneasy, he had followed her, had done the things she asked him to.

But still the questions were rolling around inside him. Not going away, stuck there in his head. Was this Rani? After all that, was this actually Rani? And if it wasn’t, then where was Rani?

These thoughts were going through his head while he was standing on the walkway watching the psychologist talk to the man on the floor. She had sat on him, tried to turn him on, then, when that didn’t work, hurt him.

The Creeper had enjoyed watching her do that.

Maybe this was Rani after all.

He looked at the body lying next to the man on the walkway. He remembered that one. She had been Rani for a while until the spirit left her, until she became a husk. So what was she doing here now?

So many questions…

It hurt him to think. And that made him angry. He could feel it, building up inside him. That snake uncoiling, spitting out its venom. And when he got angry, when that snake got going, he wanted to get it out of him…

But not yet. He would wait. Be patient. See what happened.

And then do something…

Phil looked at the prone figure of the woman lying next to him, then back to Fiona Welch. He had no idea how things were going to work out, just had to hope his team would be on the way soon.

Because if not…

He put the thought out of his mind. Concentrated on Fiona Welch. Keep her talking. Stop her getting any other ideas.

‘So how did you get to be profiler on the investigation, Fiona? How did you manage that one?’

She smiled again, that smug, unbalanced smile. ‘Simple. Because Ben Fenwick is easily impressed.’

‘With what?’

‘Credentials. He didn’t have a clue what to ask for. So I just… guided his hand when he phoned up. All he knew was that he should have a profiler. And I knew the police would investigate. So I made sure I was in the right place at the right time. That he would choose no one else but me.’

‘And you lied to him, of course.’

‘Naturally.’ She laughed. ‘And I’m a much better profiler than you thought I was. Because I read him straight away. Manipulated him from the off. Easy.’ She moved closer to Phil once more. ‘And a much better psychologist, too. Because I read you all. Played you all. Brilliantly. Which wasn’t hard. Because you were all so stupid. You allowed me into the centre of your investigation, let me control things, keep… I don’t know, I was going to say one step ahead of you but, let’s be honest, I was streets ahead. I could have kept going for months.’

‘If I hadn’t wised up to you and shipped you out. Not that stupid.’

A flash of anger in her eyes, her hands became claws once more, moved towards Phil’s face. She stopped herself. Forced a smile. She nodded, as if to a joke only she could hear, or at a decision she had made. One whose outcome she was going to enjoy.

Phil looked down at Suzanne Perry, then back to Fiona Welch. ‘So why her, Fiona? Why Suzanne?’

Fiona Welch shrugged. ‘Why any of them?’

‘I don’t know. Julie Miller. Adele Harrison. What makes them so special? You tell me.’

Her eyes slipped away from him. Down to the right. ‘Because I could. Because they were there.’

Liar, he thought. ‘Nothing to do with Mark Turner?’

She flinched, like a chink in her armour had been exposed and he had pierced it.

‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’

‘No?’ He had to keep pressing, work that sword into her.

‘You sure about that? The fact that they’re all ex-girlfriends of his is just a coincidence, is it?’

‘Shut up.’ She slapped him. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Phil didn’t shut up. He ignored the pain in his face, kept going. ‘What’s the matter, Fiona? Didn’t you like the competition? Was that it?’

‘Shut up…’ screamed at him.

‘What, his exes made you jealous? Not very master race that, is it? Jealous of a barmaid?’

‘Shut up!’ Another slap.

Phil recovered quickly, looked at her face. Saw something there, something she hadn’t shown before. Fear. Insecurity. He smiled inwardly. He had hit a nerve. Found her weakness.

He pushed that sword further in.

‘That why you killed her, is it? Because you were jealous? What was it, did he still think of her? Talk about her? Call out her name at the wrong time?’