Steven Dunne - Deity

Brook took the phone from the evidence bag and handed it to her. ‘Show me a recent picture of Rusty.’

‘I told you. We had to be careful. There aren’t any pictures of him.’

Brook took the phone from her and, following Cooper’s instructions, scrolled down several photographs until he had the one he wanted. ‘Then who’s that?’ He turned the phone round to show Yvette the picture of the dark-haired boy with a small goatee beard. It had been taken three weeks previously.

Yvette gazed at the picture and smiled faintly. Her expression returned to neutral and she pushed the phone back to Brook. ‘That’s Philippe.’

‘Philippe?’

‘I called him Phil. He was an exchange student from Paris.’

‘Was?’

‘He went back to France two weeks ago. I met him at the college.’ She smiled fondly. ‘He’s an orphan like me.’

‘Is he a friend of Rusty’s?’

‘Rusty doesn’t know him. He’s a student, that’s all. Rusty was spending more and more time. .’ Yvette pursed her lips around the rest of the sentence.

‘And did you sleep with Philippe?’

This time there was no tantrum. She sighed. ‘He was nice to me.’ She looked at her solicitor who picked up the baton.

‘Is this relevant?’ said Roger Sands. ‘Is my client being charged with being friendly to her fellow students?’

Brook smiled. ‘Sorry. Just trying to be thorough. Let’s talk again about the boy filming on Exeter Bridge. You said you weren’t sure if it was Rusty. Was that a lie?’

She nodded. ‘I think it’s him. He looked like Rusty, moved like Rusty.’

Brook sat back in the chair. ‘Tell me about him.’

‘I love him.’

‘Don’t tell me about you. Tell me about him ,’ insisted Brook.

‘Don’t you think we ought to take a break there, Inspector?’ interjected Sands, the solicitor. ‘My client has cooperated fully.’

Brook didn’t take his eyes from Yvette as he raised his hand to halt the interruption. ‘What about the other students? What do you think he’s up to?’ continued Brook.

‘I honestly don’t know,’ said Yvette. ‘But as soon as he arrived he latched on to that Adele Watson. She felt sorry for him at first but she’s smart. She knew he had. .’ she paused, looking for the right words ‘. . hidden depths.’

‘So he became her friend.’

‘Sort of.’

‘Like he became Russell’s friend?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do you think Rusty saw Adele as another soul in torment? Do you think he’s encouraging her to end her suffering? And Kyle? And Becky?’

‘You think he enjoys it!’ exclaimed Yvette.

‘I do.’

‘Rusty could be dead, for all you know. He could be the victim. Somebody could be hurting him as we speak.’

‘You still protect him even though he’s not coming back.’

‘What do you mean?’ she flared. ‘He loves me. Of course he’s coming back.’

‘He doesn’t love you any more, Yvette. That’s why he gave you to us.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Three years ago he helped Russell kill himself then took photographs of his dead body. And when he decided the time was right, he included the picture of your dead son in the Deity broadcast for the whole world to see. He’s moving on, Yvette.’

‘No.’

‘Was it jealousy? Couldn’t he stand sharing you with Len? Or Wilson? Or Rifkind?’ Brook studied her as she processed the information.

‘It must have been a mistake,’ protested Yvette. ‘He wouldn’t betray me.’

‘He already has. How long do you think it took us to make the link? He knew we’d be doing background checks on all the parents. He knew we’d find the link with Len. He knew we’d spot the picture and work out that you were living in the area at the time of the hanging. He knew we’d get a sample of Russell’s DNA to compare with yours. He’s given you to us on a plate, Yvette, because he’s done with you. Now, why don’t you tell us where he is?’

Her eyes blazed. ‘I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,’ she screamed, sobbing furiously now.

Brook looked at his watch and then at Sands for the first time. ‘Now we can take a break.’

‘Do we believe her?’ asked Charlton, staring at the monitor showing Yvette Thomson, head in her hands, in the Interview Room.

‘I think so,’ said Brook, draining his tea. ‘Don’t forget she rushed down to the river when Len told her we’d found a body. She wouldn’t have done that unless she thought it might be Rusty. And if she’d had anything to do with Wilson’s death she wouldn’t have set foot near the place.’

‘So what are you thinking? This fake Russell Thomson is responsible for all this?’

‘He’s the fox in the henhouse, sir. He doesn’t belong. He’s not a teenager and he’s not vulnerable. But everyone he meets who is disposed to suicide is at risk from him.’

‘And Wilson?’

‘My guess is he went to pester Yvette for sex after the assault on Kyle. Rusty was filming the assault and must’ve followed him. Somewhere along the line, Rusty got hold of him and got into his head. And then he killed himself.’

‘Softened up with drugs?’ asked Charlton.

‘We get the autopsy results today. But I’m betting he was. By all accounts Wilson was too stupid to be vulnerable otherwise.’

Charlton blew out his cheeks. ‘Why’s he doing this, besides messing with our heads?’

‘Rusty?’ Brook thought about it for a second. ‘The short answer — fun.’

‘And the long one?’

‘It’s about control,’ said Brook. ‘Taking power from others gives him a control he needed in his early life but never had. Persuading people to kill themselves puts him in charge of his destiny — and others’. Maybe Yvette’s son was the first. But after that he got a taste for it.’

Charlton sighed and looked at his watch. ‘Four hours to the next broadcast. What are we charging Yvette with?’

‘We’re holding her under the murder warrant at the moment until the DNA checks are done.’

‘But you don’t think that will stick.’

‘Do we really want it to?’ said Brook. ‘I mean, she’s almost as much a victim as her son.’

‘I know, but Assisting a Suicide or Allowing the Death of a Child hardly seems sufficient,’ replied Charlton.

‘No charge does. Reserve your anger for Leonard Poole, sir. Noble’s picking him up now.’

‘No Sergeant Noble today?’ asked Dr Petty.

‘We’re a bit stretched at the moment,’ said Brook with a smile. ‘Don’t worry. He’s working.’

‘That’s no comfort for my loss of a Sunday lie-in.’

‘No. We appreciate it, believe me,’ replied Brook, deep in thought.

‘Glad to hear it.’ She held his gaze a moment, waiting for more concrete evidence of his appreciation but Brook was oblivious. ‘So, Osiris, eh? Some people are never happy in their own skin. And making sure he has a few helpers in the afterlife — seems logical when you think of it like that. Any news?’

‘He won’t get far. Not that he wants to. He’s digging in somewhere.’

‘Here we are. Phencyclidine,’ she read. ‘PCP or angel dust on the streets. Wilson had high levels in his bloodstream and would’ve been prone to hallucination and in a severe dissociative state.’

‘So — easily handled or manipulated.’

‘Very suggestible,’ agreed Petty. ‘But even without someone egging him on, anything is possible. There have been numerous cases of suicides, self-mutilations. .’

‘Anything else of note?’

‘Yes. I skipped breakfast this morning and I’m starving.’

At that moment Brook’s mobile began to vibrate. ‘John.’ He listened for a moment. ‘I’ll be right there.’