Sycamore Gap: A DCI Ryan Mystery(61)

“Thanks, Frank. I needed that.”

“Don’t mention it,” Phillips shrugged. “What do you want to do about it?”

“There’s no way he’ll talk otherwise.”

“You sure …?”

“Come on. You know him as well as I do.”

“Aye, I do.” Phillips scratched the top of his wiry thatch of hair then let his hand fall. “We could play it so that you’re in the room, but I still ask the questions?”

“We could try it, but I’m betting he’d clam up all the same. He wants to taunt me, you see. He’s bored, in here,” Ryan looked around the wide, beige-coloured space. “Bored, angry and frustrated that he can’t maraud around the city killing more women.”

“It’s not a good idea to let him use you as his punch bag. He won’t hold back,” Phillips added. “He’ll twist the knife, no doubt about it.”

“No doubt at all,” Ryan agreed. He thought of his sister and how lovely she had been. He thought of his parents’ devastation. He remembered watching as Edwards had killed her, while he had lain injured and immobile on the floor. Pain ricochet through his body, singing through his nerves and along the scar marring his left arm, from shoulder to elbow. Then, he thought of Rose Llewellyn, sunken and small in her home prison, surrounded by the memories of her daughter. He recalled the broken conversation with Claire Burns’ father and how he had begged him to find justice for his child.

It was never easy to face one’s demons, even when they looked human. But he reminded himself that, if he had done it once, he could do it again. This time, for other families, other brothers, other mothers and fathers.

He turned back and squared his shoulders.

“I’m ready.”



Keir Edwards’ eyes lit up an unnatural, glossy black against his pale face when Ryan entered the room.

“I’m honoured,” he began, his cultured voice trembling only slightly. Ryan judged that to be excitement, rather than nerves.

“DCI Ryan and DS Phillips re-entering interview under caution with Keir Edwards at HM Prison Frankland. Prison guards Fran Foster and Daniel Cramer both present. Time is 18:04.” Ryan’s voice rang out clearly for the tape and not once did he acknowledge that Edwards had spoken.

“Mr Edwards, do you require any reminder of your rights and obligations under caution?”

“So formal,” Edwards mused. “We know each other well, you and I.”

“Let the record show that Mr Edwards understands his rights and obligations.”

Edwards’ eyes continued to roam Ryan’s face. He envied his lightly tanned skin, which spoke of days spent outdoors in the early summer sunshine.

“I think you mean, Doctor Edwards,” he said.

Ryan raised an uninterested eyebrow.

“Last time I checked, you had been struck off the medical register,” he replied without a pause. “Deciding to torture and kill people goes against the Hippocratic Oath, you know.”

Edwards’ mouth twisted into a smile.

“Developed some teeth, have you? Must make you feel strong, knowing that I’m chained,” he rattled his wrists against the metal cuffs and then leaned forward suddenly. “But you and I both know you’d be cowering like a whipped dog, if I weren’t.”

Ryan felt the spittle spray from Edwards’ mouth as he spoke his venom, and with slow movements he retrieved a tissue from his jacket pocket to wipe it from his chin.

“We would like to ask you some questions relating to Amy Llewellyn,” he said.

Edwards continued to stare.

“When did you first meet Amy?”

“I’ve never heard of her,” Edwards lied.

Ryan fished inside the file and found a copy of the image taken from Edwards’ own possessions, last year.

“Do you recognise this picture?”

Edwards tilted his head to one side and ran his gaze over the image of Amy, naked and bound against the bedposts of the bed in his old home.

“I couldn’t say.”

Ryan slapped the file closed and rose from his chair.

“There’s nothing for us here,” he said to Phillips, once again ignoring Edwards. “He’s obviously useless. I told you we’re looking for someone with precision. He doesn’t fit.”

“You think I don’t know that you’re baiting me?” Edwards said, with a hint of irritation.

“Aye, you’re right. It was a long-shot, anyway,” Phillips agreed and then stood up himself.

“Sit down!” Edwards rapped out, eliciting a long stare from Ryan.

“Your manners seem to have rapidly declined, since you’ve been living in a cell,” Ryan remarked. “You’re long past calling the shots, here, Edwards.”