Copycat

by Diane Saxon

  ‘The victim, Karen Prestwich, was a social worker. It was her day off. Her boyfriend, a teacher at the local secondary school was at work, all day. Solid alibi. Two thousand kids, dozens of teachers and assistants his witnesses.’ She whipped up a dry smile and continued. ‘We have absolutely no clue as to why the victim was in this particular house. The house which belongs to Julia Clements.’

  Jenna patrolled her gaze around the officers in the room to make sure they were all onboard so far. ‘Julia and Karen couldn’t stand each other. Karen did not, according to Julia, have a key to her house. However, Julia informed us earlier that there was a key in her small shed in the back garden.’ She gave them a moment for the groans and eyerolling to ensue and then reeled them back in. ‘Yeah. DC Ellis checked and there was no sign of the key in the shed.’

  Jenna dropped her gaze down to her notes. ‘CSI inform me that the initial findings are that there was no sign of a break-in. In fact, there was a key in the lock on the outside of the door when Julia arrived home. She initially thought her mum might have called around. It wasn’t unusual for her to drop something off on her way past, but she’d never left the key in the lock before. This needs to be followed up with Julia’s mum before we can confirm that the key in the shed was used to open the front door.’ Jenna raised her head. ‘PC Wallis, can I ask you to do that?’ As PC Sabrina Wallis inclined her head, Jenna continued. ‘We can only assume that either Karen Prestwich let herself in.’ She surveyed the room. ‘Or the perpetrator did.’

  She searched the roomful of people to check they were all keeping up to speed before she delivered the next part.

  ‘Julia returned from work to find Karen Prestwich in her kitchen. Naked and already dead.’ Her gaze skimmed over her team to watch their reactions with a close eye. ‘Although in shock at the time, Julia said she checked Karen Prestwich for signs of life and could confirm she’d probably been dead for some time. Julia is a nurse at The Princess Royal Hospital.’

  She listened for the connection to hit, scanned the room as it did, conscious of the rabbit hole she’d happily jump down with the majority of them, if not for the evidence.

  She held up a hand before the commotion could take off. ‘We’ll stick to the facts before we move on to the instincts and assumptions.’ As they fell silent, she continued. ‘Fact.’ She counted them off on her fingers. ‘At approximately 1830 hours, another young woman was discovered murdered today. Fact. There is a similarity to the modus operandi of the first victim. Fact. Unlike the first victim, Marcia Davies, this woman, Karen Prestwich, appears, on initial findings, to show she was subjected to a violent rape prior to her murder.’ She ignored the sucked-in breaths, the pained groans and raised her voice over the noise. ‘Fact. If this is the same murderer, he was not as neat and precise on this occasion. Indeed, according to Jim Downey, our Chief Forensics Officer, compared to last time, he was downright sloppy.’ She blew out a breath. ‘Fact. The perpetrator cleaned up anything pertaining to DNA evidence with bleach, so he had some idea of what he was doing. That having been said,’ she gave a crooked smile, ‘Jim Downey is confident that the clean-up was nowhere near good enough and, although it’s early yet, Jim and his team will be there for several days working on the principles of exchange because this man will have left something of himself behind, no matter how miniscule. Fingerprints, fibres, footprints, bodily fluids, DNA. The deceased in particular should show a considerable amount, because although she’s been cleaned down with bleach,’ which she didn’t need to explain to her team that used properly, bleach would destroy DNA, ‘one of the main factors is, did he wear a condom? Again, we have to wait for confirmation from forensics at this point. This all takes time, they’ll rush things as much as possible.’ Seventy-two hours was the average time and the clock was ticking.

  Jenna crossed her arms and leaned her backside on the desk as she scanned the room.

  ‘Questions?’

  Ryan’s arm shot skyward, his skinny neck jerking in his oversized collar. Jenna resisted the urge to sigh out loud.

  ‘DC Downey?’

  ‘Is he targeting nurses, Sarg?’

  Maturity and experience would bring him a little diplomacy and tact. In the meanwhile, she’d take his line of questioning and run with it.

  ‘It could be coincidence. Certainly, at this early stage, we don’t want to release that possibility to the press, and I’d appreciate it…’ she emphasised, holding her hand aloft. ‘… if everyone here respects that. If word gets out on what is only an assumption at this point, we’ll have every nurse in the county demanding police protection.’ Just as they had years ago when Paul McCambridge murdered four nurses in quick succession. She stabbed her finger on the file in front of her. ‘This information is to stay in the room, I do not want any leaks to the press. Is that understood?’

  Jenna narrowed her eyes as she met the gazes of the officers in the room. If any one of them leaked it, there was the possibility of a murder happening right there in the station.

  She gave them a moment to digest the information. ‘Anything else? Yes, DC Wainwright?’

  ‘Is he targeting a particular look?’

  She sighed. ‘There is a distinct possibility that if the perpetrator is the same, then he may be following the MO of Paul McCambridge who targeted women – nurses – with red hair, or as PC Downey calls them, gingers.’

  Ryan squirmed as the blood rushed to his face. ‘It’s not meant as an insult, Sarg, that’s what we call them, it’s what they call themselves. Ask any of them. They’re more insulted with the term redhead these days.’

  Jenna bowed her head in acknowledgement of his reasoning and contemplated the thought that she was half a generation ahead of him and things changed.

  ‘Although Karen was not a “ginger”, Julia is, and it may just be that the neighbour was in the wrong place at the wrong time. We may never know. There are only two people who do – one of them is dead and the other is currently at large.’

  ‘One other connection,’ Jenna cast her glance around the room to gauge the reaction. ‘As we all know, DC Downey met Marcia Davies, the first victim, the night before she was murdered. DC Downey was also in contact with Julia Clements, the woman whose house the second victim was found in, through the same dating app, Y’ello.’ She paused to give her team a chance to absorb the connection. He’d not yet met up with her.

  She caught Ryan’s gaze across the room. ‘So, DC Downey, just to clarify the nature of this app, how many women do you talk to at any one time?’

  Skin flushed a healthy pink, Ryan stumbled over his words as he tried to get them out. ‘Well, errrm, around eight maybe. Perhaps less. Never more. I just couldn’t. I wouldn’t be able to keep track.’

  Her intention was never to humiliate him, but to gain as much information as possible.

  ‘Julia appeared to be able to.’ She glanced around. ‘Julia managed forty.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Hell.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, how did she keep track?’

  Judgement. There was no point trying to avoid it.

  Jenna nodded. ‘Forty, I would say, is quite considerable.’

  ‘Forty is a fucking shitload.’

  Jenna’s lips twitched up at the corners at the decidedly unsubtle tones of Mason. He called it as he saw it.

  ‘Shitload or not, that’s where we’re going to start. Forty, and these are only the people she is currently talking to, not the one’s she’s already been in contact with, perhaps dated and discarded, not the ones she has on hold for the next round. It’s a massive job and it won’t be a quick one.’ She held up a hand to contain the grumblings. ‘Digital forensics currently have Marcia’s phone, Karen’s and also Julia’s. They’re going to extract the information, check if there are any crossovers. As you all know, digitally, this is a real challenge with “cloud” applications. Evidence needs to be captured in real time, so the team may have difficulties if the perpetra
tor knows digitally what he’s doing. He may well have covered his tracks. We haven’t ascertained any of that yet. It’s way too soon.’

  Salter looked up from the notes he’d been scribbling and waggled his pen in the air to catch Jenna’s attention.

  ‘DC Salter?’

  Never one to be rushed, Salter ran his tongue over his teeth before he spoke, his long, slow Yorkshire drawl his cover for a bright, intelligent mind. ‘Let me get this right, Sarg. We’ve got a serial killer on our hands.’ He placed his pen on the desk in front of him, leaned back and crossed his arms over his broad chest. ‘And DC Downey has both women on his dating app.’

  ‘No. DC Downey has one of these women on his dating app.’ She corrected.

  ‘And the owner of the house the second woman was killed in is also on his dating app.’

  Jenna cast Ryan a quick glance to communicate her support before she gave one, slow nod. ‘Correct.’

  ‘And both women were nurses?’ As Jenna opened her mouth to reply, Salter unfolded his arms, picked up his pen and gave a sharp rap on the desk. ‘The woman who owns the house, not the murdered woman.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He placed his pen on the table and his sharp gaze met hers. ‘I’d like DC Downey to let me take a look at that app, explain it to me further and see what’s what, like.’

  Grateful for his show of support, Jenna shrugged, ‘Digital forensics have possession of DC Downey’s phone.’

  Ryan’s hand went up in the air.

  Without noticing, Salter crossed his arms over his chest. ‘That’s a bugger. We could do with knowing what other women Ryan has on his app.’

  Ryan waggled his hand and Jenna raised a finger to halt him. ‘That’s one of their priorities.’

  ‘We need it now,’ Salter grumbled.

  Ryan let out a small cough, which Jenna could no longer ignore.

  ‘Yes, DC Downey?’

  ‘Digital forensics took my phone but supplied me with a new one, everything is mirrored. I can show Salter the app, Sarg.’

  Jenna glanced up just as the incident room door swung open and DI Taylor stepped through, a thick file tucked under his arm. Her gaze bounced off his as he scratched his ear, his eyes still glazed from his long flight.

  ‘Carry on, DS Morgan.’ He wandered over to the side of the room and perched on the desk Donna sat behind.

  Jenna directed her attention back to Ryan. ‘I’m sorry, DC Downey, but we have to be very careful we don’t tread on forensics’ toes. We need clear continuity of evidence and if you interfere or take action when you shouldn’t, any court case dependent on the evidence on your phone will be right…’ she paused to draw in a breath.

  ‘… royally fucked,’ Mason finished her sentence for her. Not quite how she would have put it, but the sentiment worked.

  She shot a glance around the room and waited for the laughter to subside. ‘Any questions?’

  ‘Door-to-door?’ DC Trevor Simms asked from the back of the room, where he always took up residence in case someone mistook him for a police officer and gave him some work. Solid he might be, but the avoidance of anything taxing seemed to be his sole aim in life. Surprised he’d even raised his head above the parapet, Jenna took a stunned minute before she answered him.

  ‘Door-to-door is being conducted as we speak. Any information will be relayed back to us, but it appears that they’re not exactly the most neighbourly community. Mostly, they get up, go to work, come home, watch TV and go to bed.’ She reeled off the sad routine of these people’s lives, realising how closely it resembled her own. Or lack of one. She needed to get one and stop moping around. ‘Anything further?’

  At the vague mumble, Jenna took it that they’d finished and stepped to the desk nearest her. ‘Pick up an information pack or access it from a computer. If anyone needs to discuss anything, you know where I am.’

  As the group dispersed, DI Taylor waved her over to where he sat with Donna and Mason with Ryan hovering by the door.

  ‘Sir, I thought you were on holiday until tomorrow.’

  ‘Not any longer.’

  ‘What time did your plane get in?’

  He rasped his fingers over his rough cheeks. ‘Ten this morning.’ He glanced at his watch, winced. ‘I got five hours’ sleep in. Good enough.’ Not on jet lag, but it was up to him. ‘Chief Superintendent Gregg has apprised me of the situation and DI Evans has handed over to me as he also has holiday booked and wanted to get away before he gets it cancelled.’ He rubbed his bloodshot eyes. ‘I’ve spoken with the prison governor; she confirms that they’ve checked the room where you interviewed Paul McCambridge and the photo isn’t there. They’ve searched his cell, confiscated a mobile phone, no SIM card found.’

  ‘He probably swallowed it,’ Ryan interrupted.

  ‘That’s not got to be healthy.’ Mason scratched his fingers across the black stubble forming on his cheeks so they rasped.

  Ryan shrugged. ‘Nah, doesn’t harm. It’s mainly silicone, with a very small deposit of copper, possibly a touch of gold. Very little metal. Mostly they can’t even detect them with X-rays, depending where it is in the system. If he’s chewed it…’

  At the glazing over of Mason’s eyes, Ryan stumbled to a halt.

  ‘Thank you, PC Downey.’ DI Taylor scrubbed his hand over his short, grey hair before he continued. ‘They also confiscated all privileges – TV, radio, books – and the governor’s confirmed that McCambridge has been given maximum lock-down for twenty-one days. That means no privileges, no gym, no outdoor time and no contact with anyone other than his assigned guards.’

  ‘Shit. And they thought me hitting him was tough. That’s got to be wrong. It’s not a punishment, it’s a direct route to insanity. Twenty-one days in complete solitary.’ Mason shook his head.

  ‘It didn’t take twenty-one days, only twenty minutes. Apparently, he kicked off again the moment they took his TV, and broke a prison officer’s wrist, despite being tranquilised. They claim we’ve set his treatment back years.’

  ‘God forbid we upset the serial killer,’ Mason grumbled.

  Irritation cranked up and Jenna snorted. ‘It’s not a case of us setting him back by visiting him. I think he’s overwrought with the idea that someone else is doing his killing for him. He’s excited, inflamed. We never even raised his awareness of the killing, he already knew. If we hadn’t gone there to question him, who else would they be able to blame?’

  Jenna paced across the room, picked up a file and strode back. She handed the file to Donna, mouthed a thank you to her and faced the others.

  ‘I place the blame firmly on the prison. They should never have informed him of the murders.’

  Taylor glanced up from the notes he studied. ‘I don’t think they actually informed him themselves.’

  ‘No, possibly not, but they certainly gave him access to the information, let him see the newspaper, hear the press release, see it on his illegal mobile phone.’ She swiped up a pen and tapped it against the palm of her hand. ‘He kicked off nicely just in time for our arrival.’

  ‘I can’t disagree, Jenna.’ Taylor nodded. ‘The governor offered to interview the members of staff who were present, but Chief Superintendent Gregg told her we’d prefer it if we could do that. We need more information in the light of this latest murder anyhow. We need to know if McCambridge has anything to do with them. Who is pulling his strings, or whose strings is he pulling?’

  ‘Absolutely. At the least, I believe he’s in contact with the copycat. It’s his MO, sir. There are things never released from the original murders only we and McCambridge know that the copycat has emulated. It’s as though the perpetrator has been coached by McCambridge. He may have mucked up with this latest one though. Julia was the target. Somehow it all went wrong and Karen ended up dead.’

  ‘Agreed. Right then.’ DI Taylor gave a low grunt as he rose from the chair and placed one hand on his hip, pain wriggling over his forehead. ‘Take DC Ellis, Downey and McGuire, ge
t back to the prison, stay in pairs, and I want you to question everyone who was there, including Paul McCambridge.’

  Her heart dropped like a stone. ‘Yes, sir.’

  31

  Monday 10 February, 13:30 hrs

  Awkward was the only word to describe what she needed to do.

  Professional was the only way forward.

  Damned if it wasn’t still awkward though.

  Jenna gave an impatient tap of her pen on the pad in front of her while she waited in the interview room of Long Lartin, her heart skipping a beat every time footsteps echoed along the hallway.

  ‘You okay, boss?’ In an unusual display of concern, Mason leaned back in his chair, stretched and yawned until his jaw cracked. Yeah, he’d probably scratch his arse in a minute just to wrap everything up.

  Unwilling to allow her irritation with the situation to transpose into annoyance with her partner, Jenna ducked her head and studied the notes she’d written earlier. ‘Yep. Everything is fine.’

  ‘If you want—’

  The door opened with a silent whisper and Denton Harper slipped inside, a half-smile of greeting on his face so a dimple winked in and then out again. ‘DS Morgan.’ He held out his hand. ‘I didn’t think we’d see you again so soon.’ She touched her palm to his and frissons of awareness heated her at his cool attractive looks.

  She sent him a quick smile. ‘Unfortunately, it’s a necessity.’

  Deep aquamarine eyes turned serious and held her gaze.

  Mason shouldered through. ‘Good of you to agree to see us.’

  Harper turned his attention on Mason, the concern in his eyes undiluted. ‘DC Ellis. Good to see you again too. I hope your fist never suffered too much from the punch you threw when we last met.’

  Mason leaned in, grasped Harper’s hand and grinned. ‘When duty calls, there is no pain.’

  Harper’s smile wavered, then kicked up again as he withdrew his hand from Mason’s. ‘Please,’ he invited. ‘Take a seat.