Caught in the Web by Emmy Ellis (classic english novels .TXT) 📕

admit. And he had to keep referring to them as socks or things so it didn’t mess with his mind. Bring on the fear. Knock him off his game.

He locked his car then returned to the office. Shaw was reading the file again, this time not lounging but sitting upright. And he had his shoes on. His tie tightened. His hair swept back, albeit, Burgess reckoned, by Shaw’s fingers and nothing as practical as a comb or a brush. Burgess went to the coffee he hadn’t drunk and necked it.

“Coming to watch this in the video enhancement suite?” Burgess asked and waved the memory stick and paper in the air.

Shaw raised a finger, still reading, his lips moving. “Is that blue tinge around her lips and on her skin a specific sign of something? But then dead bodies have that tinge, anyway, so… I’m just trying to work out why the thing was even needed.”

Burgess loved him for not saying that word. “No idea, but I’m sure it’ll become clear at some point. At the moment, while we’ve heard nothing from Marla or forensics from either scene, we should watch this footage, see if we can spot something the lads at the zoo didn’t.”

“Hmm.” Shaw closed the file, rose, then walked over to the grey cabinet. He unlocked it, popped the file inside, then relocked it.

Another mistake I made earlier. Leaving the file on my desk for anyone to see while I wasn’t in here. Shit. He’s showing me without words what I did wrong.

Burgess nodded, catching Shaw’s gaze. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem.”

Shaw led the way down the corridor, Burgess trailing behind like the uneasy motherfucker he was. There would be socks on that footage, ones he didn’t think he’d be able to look at. Maybe that was why he’d left the CCTV evidence in the car, subconsciously resisting what he knew he’d have to view. Nathan had said he’d copied only the segments they’d need, so none of that scrolling through and seeing the things more than necessary. He’d still see them too much—he didn’t want to see them at all—but it was better than the alternative.

At the closed door to the video enhancement suite, Shaw turned. “I can do this alone if you prefer.” He held his hand out for the memory stick.

Burgess shook his head. “No. I’ll just have to tell myself they’re not real and hope it does the trick, that’s all. Go on. Inside before I change my mind.”

Shaw nodded once and entered the room. It was semi-dark, as usual, and a couple of other officers sat to the right at one of the desks along the rear wall, the glow from the screen lighting up their faces. They were watching some nighttime footage of a city street, the road on the monitor empty except for a couple of parked cars and a few trees dotted kerbside.

Intensely boring. Been there, done that.

Shaw walked over to the desk on the far left, inserted the stick into the computer, and waited for the screen prompt. Burgess stood behind him, nerves fraying, his skin going clammy, and glanced across at the other officers and their scene. Intensely boring it may be, but he’d rather be watching that than—

“Ready?” Shaw sat as though they didn’t have a care in the world but looked up at Burgess with the real truth of the matter in his eyes.

Burgess swallowed. Shaw was acting professionally for the benefit of the other officers, and Burgess would have to take heed. He nodded, the action tight and paining his suddenly tense neck muscles. It was time to behave as he had in the alley this morning: as level-headed as he could be in the circumstances. He sat to the right of Shaw so his partner shielded him from view—that way he could turn his head from the screen if he had to and no one would be any the wiser.

“Right. Go on then,” Burgess said. “No need to switch on the speakers because, apparently, he doesn’t say much. I’ve got a transcript here.” His armpits were wet, and his shirt beneath his suit jacket clung to his skin. It was going the same way on his back, uncomfortable but something to keep his mind on when they came on the screen.

The first clip showed the wall of all the glass cases and the man entering the room from the right. It wasn’t so bad—Burgess couldn’t see what was in the cases from the camera being that far back. He breathed out slowly, watching the intruder move to one case and trying to get the contents out.

“He knew exactly what he wanted and where it was,” Shaw said, “to go directly to that case the way he did.”

“I thought the same. So he’s been there before. That’s thousands of hours of footage that needs going through to check for anyone in the past few weeks who might have acted suspiciously in there. Bloody hell.” A trickle of sweat dribbled down Burgess’ spine.

The man abandoned taking the first thing and moved to the next. Burgess gritted his teeth seeing him lower his hand into the case and remove what he was after. Then he calmly placed it in a bag, putting that bag into his rucksack.

“Pause it there a second, will you?” Burgess opened the A4 paper and by the light of the screen read what was on there. “At this point, he said, ‘There. Good boy. It’s your turn under a different spotlight.’ What the fuck does that mean?”

Shaw raised his eyebrows and leant back. His chair creaked in protest. “He’s referring to the light in the glass case? That the thing will be under a different one? Maybe that it’s under our spotlight now, as in, the star of the show? Kind of making the killer the star of the show by proxy?