The Death Messenger (Matthew Ryan Book 2)(109)

?lgaard’s voice arrived in Ryan’s head: anorexia?

Then Pedersen’s: Yes, the man with the phone looked like her.

Ryan’s eyes widened. ‘What if it’s both monumental and medical?’

‘What do you mean?’ O’Neil asked.

‘At one of the briefings last week we discussed how long justice takes in this country, right?’ He glanced at Forsythe. ‘No offence, sir . . . I put forward the idea that our offenders weren’t prepared to wait for the judicial process, that they were impatient vigilantes wreaking revenge. What if one of them physically couldn’t wait? If Mark Montgomery is deteriorating rapidly, that would explain why his sister is upset.’

‘Or maybe Sophia is ill herself now,’ Caroline said. ‘We all develop diseases at different rates, don’t we? Some people live with cancer for years, others fade away immediately after diagnosis. Her personality would suggest that she’d belong to the former category. You said yourself, she’s fighting those who wronged her.’

‘Ryan, you and I have work to do,’ O’Neil said. As Gold Commander with a depleted team, she was going nowhere. Forsythe took it well. The case was ultimately her responsibility. Ryan was already raising an action – a nationwide trawl of hospital admission departments – in an effort to trace either sibling. O’Neil removed her earrings, kicked off her heels and sat down.





60


With Forsythe’s help, the search warrant was secured within hours. He flew Ryan and O’Neil to Bletchley in a private jet he’d hired to take him south on Christmas Day. Clearly, O’Neil was not the only one pleased to avoid an encounter with the past. Unsurprisingly, father and son hadn’t seen eye to eye this year. The truth of it was, they never would again.

Both target properties had escaped the flooding. The detectives searched Mark Montgomery’s flat first, local crime scene investigators in tow. Apart from a worn pair of size ten shoes, they found nothing startling there: an untidy mess, a lot of drugs – prescription and illegal – no family memorabilia to speak of, a computer wire but no computer, a sorry excuse for a home all round. The CSIs would do a job on the place, lifting samples for comparison with DNA found at crime scenes.

Maybe they’d get lucky.

Ryan and O’Neil were ferried between addresses by Thames Valley police on empty wet streets. The wind had gone but the rain was relentless. There would be no white Christmas for any British kids. No sledging or rides on new bikes. No roller-skating and scuffed knees.

Ryan’s mobile rang as they pulled up outside Sophia Montgomery’s place. The house was in darkness. No need to rush in there. He checked the screen, grinned at O’Neil.

‘Grace?’ Eloise already knew the answer.

‘The one and only.’ Ryan pressed to receive the call. ‘Merry Christmas, missus. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today.’

‘Liar.’

‘I’m serious. Please pass on my regards to Frank.’

‘And ours to you too, Matthew.’

‘Hey, cut it out! The Sunday name is reserved for Caroline and well you know it. If you’re not tucked up in bed with a movie, eating chocolate, what are you guys up to?’

‘You’re at work. We’re at work. Caroline is with us now. She had a great night last night, a super morning with the kids. They all said to tell you they loved their presents. Lucy made you a card. It’s so sweet. And we have a special visitor here at base.’

‘What?’ Ryan was horrified.

‘Don’t panic,’ she said. ‘With no transport to take him anywhere, Hilary joined us. He brought goodies. It’s quite a party. We’re drinking good champagne and eating luxury mince pies. Tell Eloise she has a full backup team.’

‘Sounds like fun.’ He glanced across the rear seat. ‘They’re in the office.’

‘So I gathered.’

‘I have two presents for Dumbo.’ Grace didn’t stop for breath. ‘Not from me, I hasten to add. She knows I’m not that generous. These are special delivery, from Santa.’

O’Neil shuffled closer to Ryan, enjoying the chat.

Grace was on top form.

‘Careful what you say,’ Ryan warned. ‘Someone we both know is listening.’

O’Neil played along. ‘Can we have our present now?’

‘Only if you’ve been good.’

‘I have, get on with it.’

‘Mark Montgomery’s symptoms came on two years ago. I’m in possession of his medical records and on first-name terms with his GP.’ She chuckled. ‘I think he fancies me. The good doctor described Montgomery as unpredictable but resourceful, with a list of ailments as long as your arm. He was in a very bad way. It’s a wonder he ever managed to carry out those attacks.’

‘When I pick him up, I’ll be sure to ask him.’

‘Too late,’ Grace said. ‘That’s your other present. Someone we know just registered his death.’

‘On Christmas Day?’

‘Yesterday. Sophia Montgomery rang the GP late last night to let him know, hours after she spoke to you. You’re such a hard bastard, Ryan. She was very upset. You obviously didn’t give her enough sympathy. The GP rang me just now. I tell you, he’s got it bad – any excuse to get in touch.’