Danielle Ramsay - Vanishing Point

He took the DVD which he had removed from the laptop and thrust it into the inner pocket of his jacket. The last person he wanted getting their hands on this evidence was Adamson.

Despite what he felt, he still couldn’t believe that his brother was capable of such a heinous crime. Not against Madley and definitely not against him. Above all, he wouldn’t be part of something that would abuse and terrorise a woman like that. It was unthinkable.

He turned away from the car unable to look at it. Unable to accept that here he was still protecting Nick. He was putting his career on the line and for what?

But he knew the answer. Nick was all he had now. And until he had spoken to him, Brady refused to believe, despite the evidence in his pocket, that his own brother could be involved in such a sickening crime against a female copper. Let alone one who meant so much to him personally.

Chapter Twenty

Brady drew heavily on his cigarette as he thought about the evidence on the surveillance tape Madley had given him.

He watched as Conrad hit the traffic lights where the amusements had once been on the sea front opposite the Spanish City Dome. He automatically glanced in the wing mirror to make sure they weren’t being followed. Or more to the point, he wasn’t.

He’d left his car being examined forensically by Ainsworth’s team. He had no choice. Hopefully he’d get it back by the end of the day.

He was worried about explaining all this to Gates. The reason he had been at the lighthouse was because he was meeting with Madley – a suspect in Adamson’s books when it came to Simone Henderson’s attack. And one alleged to be a local drugs baron, although that was still an unsubstantiated claim.

‘The serial number, sir,’ Conrad began. ‘Sir?’ he repeated when Brady didn’t reply.

Brady distractedly turned to Conrad, unable to rid himself of the gruesome image of the victim’s head in the black bin liner.

‘Sorry?’

His mind was racing.

There had been a note in the black bin liner. A note which made it quite clear that it was no accident that a severed head had been left in Brady’s car. He hadn’t told Conrad about the note. He had simply handed it over to Ainsworth to be forensically examined. He needed time to figure out exactly what the note meant before sharing it with Conrad and the rest of the team.

‘The serial number you gave me, sir,’ explained Conrad. ‘It seems that every silicone implant has a serial code which is registered with the clinic where they are surgically inserted. The silicone implants removed from the murder victim are registered with a cosmetic surgery clinic named Virenyos in Budapest, sir.’

Brady thought about the sixteen-year-old girl who had been reported missing earlier.

‘Did they have the patient’s name registered with the serial number?’

‘No, sir. Seems they have too high a turnover to keep all the records. They keep records for up to two months after the surgical procedure and then they delete them. I think it’s more to do with patients suing them for malpractice once they get back to the UK and realise that cheap surgery combined with a holiday comes at a price. You reckon it could be the missing girl, sir?’ Conrad asked.

‘We can’t rule out coincidence. But all the same, she did have a breast job carried out at a clinic in Budapest.’

Brady took out his phone. He needed to get Harvey on this straight away.

‘Tom?’ Brady asked.

‘Fuck me, Jack! How the bloody hell did you end up with the victim’s missing head in your bloody car, eh?’ quizzed Harvey.

Brady’s silence was enough.

‘Well, at least it’s saved us a job hunting up and down the coastline looking for it,’ Harvey continued, filling in the awkward gap.

‘That’s if it’s her,’ Brady coolly pointed out.

‘Yeah … let’s not get a head of ourselves, eh?’ replied Harvey, unable to help himself.

Brady didn’t laugh.

He knew that in all likelihood it would belong to the girl lying in one of the thirty body refrigerators in Rake Lane Hospital’s morgue. The girl whose body had been sadistically raped, sodomised and then murdered.

‘Conrad’s traced the serial number from the silicone implants found in the victim’s breasts to a clinic called Virenyos in Budapest. We need to see if they match with the missing girl so I need the details of the clinic and the serial number of the silicone implants from her parents. But under no circumstances let them know what we’ve found.’

‘Conrad’s already informed us. So I went ahead and requested the clinic details and serial number from the parents,’ answered Harvey.

‘Thanks, Tom.’

Brady sighed as he disconnected the call, relieved that Harvey was already onto it.

‘Gates wants to know when you’re holding a press call, sir,’ Conrad informed him.

Brady momentarily took his eyes off the wing mirror and shot Conrad an incredulous look.

‘Not exactly looking my best right now,’ replied Brady.

Conrad didn’t respond.

‘You did put the briefing back?’ asked Brady. It was already nearly 3pm, which was when the briefing was supposed to take place.

‘Yes, sir,’ Conrad replied. ‘I pushed it back by an hour given the circumstances.’

‘Good,’ muttered Brady. It gave him some time to get his head sorted and make a couple of calls.

‘Oh, and sir, Claudia, your ex-wife—’ Conrad began.

‘I know who Claudia is, Conrad!’

Brady nervously rubbed the dark, emerging stubble on his face as he checked the wing mirror again.

Conrad refrained from saying anything. Instead he focused on the traffic lights, waiting for them to change.

‘I’m sorry, Conrad,’ apologised Brady as Conrad slowly pulled away. ‘I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now.’

His deputy nodded,

‘I understand sir,’ he answered simply.

‘Claudia then?’ Brady asked.

‘She’s waiting in your office for you,’ Conrad nodded. ‘Seems she has some information.’

‘Do you know what it’s about?’ asked Brady.

Conrad shook his head. ‘No sir, she wouldn’t say.’

Conrad pulled into a rare parking space opposite the station.

Brady waited until he had turned off the engine before slowly getting out the car. He still felt shaken. His head and ribs still hurt and he couldn’t get rid of the stench of decomposing flesh from his nostrils. He knew the smell would be clinging to his skin. And he could feel the decay emanating from his pores.

‘Conrad, do me a favour will you? Go and tell Claudia I’ll be with her directly.’

‘Yes, sir,’ answered Conrad as he locked his car.

He turned expectantly to Brady, surprised he wasn’t making a move towards the station.

‘I just need five minutes on my own to clear my head,’ Brady explained.

Conrad gave him a questioning look.

‘Get Harvey to leave a copy of the missing girl’s parents’ statement on my desk for me. Just in case the clinic and silicone details match.’

‘Yes, sir,’ answered Conrad.

Brady watched as he walked across the road and up the stairs into Whitley Bay Police Station. Conrad turned and looked back at him briefly before going through the heavy, wooden double doors.

Brady was the first to admit that at this precise moment he didn’t look too good. His face told a recent story of having had the shit kicked out of him. He was temporarily vehicle-less while forensics treated his car as a crime scene and he was withholding evidence in his jacket pocket that fingered his brother Nick for the attempted murder of a copper.

In those early, blurred months over countless bottles of Scotch, Brady remembered talking to Nick about the reason his wife had left him. But he was certain he wouldn’t have mentioned Simone by name. Or had he? He wasn’t sure about anything any more.