Stolen Souls

70

LENNON SAT ON the edge of the bed while the nurse applied two butterfly strips to the cut on his chin, then covered them with a bandage. CI Uprichard entered the bay as she left. He wore an anorak over a patterned sweater and corduroy slacks. Lennon wondered if he’d ever seen Uprichard in civvies before, and realized he hadn’t. It made him look every one of his sixty years.

“You pick your moments,” Uprichard said. “Happy flipping Christmas.”

Lennon smiled at his superior’s inability to swear. “Thanks for coming out,” he said. “You didn’t have to.”

“No, but best to clear up what I can tonight so there’s less to fight with when I come back after the holiday.” He lifted Lennon’s jacket. “Come on, they’ll want the bay for the next eejit in line.”

Lennon followed Uprichard out through the ward and into the corridor beyond.

“What do we know so far?” he asked.

Uprichard took one of a row of seats lined up outside a consultant’s office. “We’re positive he’s this Edwin Paynter chap young Connolly found in the ViSOR database. A quick search of the house didn’t turn up any identification, but there’s no doubt. There’ll be a proper search after the holiday.”

“What about the woman upstairs?” Lennon asked, taking the seat next to Uprichard. She’d been found after one of the officers who arrived in the second car heard moaning from above.

“She can’t speak, but we’re assuming she’s the owner of the house. Looks like this Paynter character has been keeping her prisoner there. Probably for the two years he’s been missing.”

“Jesus,” Lennon said.

“One thing turned up in the preliminary search that’s … well, worrying.”

“What?”

“A bag of teeth,” Uprichard said. “It’s been left in situ, but I’m told they’re human teeth. Molars, incisors, all in a little red velvet purse.”

“The floor of the cellar,” Lennon said.

“What about it?”

“There were rough patches, different textures, like parts of it had been dug up and filled back in again.”

Uprichard chewed his lip as he thought. “Of course, this chap has a previous conviction for kidnapping a prostitute.”

“Girls like this one he had in Belfast,” Lennon said. “Trafficked in, no trace of them if they disappear, no one to call the police for them.”

“It’ll be a first for Belfast,” Uprichard said. “We’ve never had a serial killer.”

“No, anyone with the inclination to kill for laughs had plenty of outlets until recently. What about the girl?”

“She’s still in the ward,” Uprichard said. “A lady from Care NI’s talking to her.”

Care NI was a Christian charity that, among other things, assisted trafficked women in the days following their rescue. Often the women were terrified of the authorities, so counselors from the charity helped them communicate with the police officers, social workers, and immigration bureaucrats whom they now had to face.

“She’s in a bad way,” Uprichard said. “But she’s a tough wee girl. She’ll need to be. This isn’t a straight trafficking case. She’ll have to answer for the man she killed.”

“We’ve no real evidence that she killed anyone,” Lennon said. “Only what Roscoe Patterson told me, and that’s hardly gospel.”

“Once forensics are in, there’ll be plenty of evidence,” Uprichard said. “But we can recommend leniency if she can show it was done in self-defense.”

“So where does she go?” Lennon asked. “The Victim Care Suite, or a cell?”

“It’s Christmas,” Uprichard said. “There’s no staff in the care unit to look after her. It’ll have to be a cell.”

“No,” Lennon said. “What she’s just been through, we can’t lock her up.”

“We might not have much choice if she’s a suspect in a murder case.”

Lennon stood up. “Are you going to arrest her?”

“No, not yet, but—”

“Are you going to interview her under caution?”

“It’s not up to me to—”

“Then there’s no call for that girl to spend a single minute in a cell until she has to.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Uprichard asked.

Lennon rubbed his dry, tired eyes as he thought. There was only one answer that would allow him any peace.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” he said.