“Three hours is a long time to be checking out a walking route.”
“I told you, I fell asleep for some of it.”
“Did you speak to anyone while you were up there?”
He shook his head.
“Did you see any couples?”
“I couldn’t say if the people I saw were couples, and I didn’t stop to speak to anyone.” Ieuan’s face crumpled as though he was about to cry. “I’ve thought about it, you know, how I might have been up there when that couple died. It could have been me murdered up there.”
“I think that’s enough questioning.” Carwyn frowned.
Yvonne tilted her head. “I understand Ieuan. Look, if you think of anything, or remember anything you think we should know, please call us or ask your dad to call us, okay? Would you do that?” She handed her card to Ieuan’s dad. “You may have vital information for us. You may have seen something that helps us catch this murderer.”
“I’ll see you out.” Carwyn put his hands on his hips.
“Very well, thank you for your time.”
As they strode through the courtyard towards their car, Dewi shook his head. “Why didn’t he tell us he went up there the day before? Something is off with his story.”
She nodded. “I am sure we’ll be talking to him again.”
“Do you believe he was only up there to check out the route?”
“I don’t know… He’s young. Think back to when you were a teenager, Dewi. All manner of things embarrass you at that age, stuff that we would consider unremarkable now. He had ample opportunity to tell us about the previous trip, I agree, but he may have been too embarrassed to say. He’ll sleep on it, and maybe he will remember something important.”
“Should we request their guns for testing?”
“Not yet, Dewi. I doubt we would convince a judge to give us a warrant, but we should monitor the family. I have a feeling Ieuan may know more than he is telling us.”
10
Mortuary
Clean-shaven and bright-eyed, Roger Hanson greeted her as she entered the mortuary’s cool, clinical interior.
Light reflected from every surface, save for the two shrouded bodies lying on separate tables in the middle of the room.
“Good morning, Yvonne. Did you get a copy of my full report on the Paynes?”
She shook her head. “No, I only received the preliminary one. Did you send it to me?”
He pushed his glasses to the top of his head, adjusting his scrubs. “I emailed it to you this morning. Hang on…” He strode through a side room door, disappearing for a few moments before returning with a bundle of documents, which he handed to her. “It’s all there. I’ve included the toxicology reports for the teenagers whose post-mortems we’ll be doing today. I put an explanatory note in the email, but the information is pretty straightforward, really. We found a partial palm print on Seren Payne’s torso.”
“You did?” Her eyes shone.
“Don’t get too excited. It's smudged, and Liz thinks we don’t have enough ridge detail for a definitive match,” he said, referring to the print analysis.
The DI sighed. “Just our luck… He’s sloppy enough to leave a print, but we can’t use it.”
Hanson patted her on the back. “If he’s slipped up once, he’ll do it again.”
“What about these victims?” She nodded towards the bodies of Kyle Davies and Brianna Horton. “Did you find prints on them?”
Hanson shook his head. “I don’t think he got close enough to these two. Maybe something disturbed him. There’s no evidence he interfered with the bodies, and there was no smearing of blood. It spattered and pooled where they lay. He shot them at close range, after the boy wound his window down. I think the boy must have been leaning over the girl to protect her. That's why he avoided the bulk of the first blast. Although injured, he got out of the car presumably while the killer wandered around to the other side of the vehicle to attack the girl, whom he shot with the second cartridge. The killer realised Kyle was out of the vehicle. He reloaded and returned to the driver’s side, finishing the boy off with a shot to the back. One blast to the head was enough to kill Brianna.”
“What made Kyle exit the car? If he had played dead, he might have survived?”
“It is possible he would have made it, yes. I think the first of his injuries was survivable.” Hanson nodded.
“This killer has some nerve.”
“Exactly. Anyone could have driven by while all this was going on. Your killer is chaotic in some respects, and chillingly cool in others.”
“We’re struggling with motive. There was arguably a sexual element to Seren Payne’s murder, but he stole their bank cards, which would suggest robbery. He hasn’t used them, however. He seems to bide his time. I think he may be a sadist, enjoying his victim’s terror.”
“Yes…” Hanson nodded. “There’s no evidence of sexual interference on Brianna’s body, and no prints.”
“So, what’s he getting out of this? Is he killing because he enjoys it?” They were rhetorical questions. She wasn’t expecting Hanson to answer them, which was as well, as he had already returned his attention back to his assistant, and the body of Kyle Davies.
Yvonne read the toxicology reports for the two teenagers.
The youngsters had consumed alcohol prior to their deaths. Both were marginally over the legal limit for driving. Kyle was also positive for cannabis, but only what they might expect for a single joint. Still, it was enough to have landed him in hot water with the law, if they had caught him driving in that condition. If only someone had stopped him before they left town.
She made a note to check in with Dai and Callum before talking to Kyle and Brianna’s parents. The DCs were looking into the backgrounds of the teenagers.
Hanson continued the post-mortem on Kyle, examining the injuries to his right arm and back, before beginning the incisions to examine the organs.
“Extensive tissue damage to the underside of the right arm, including to the skin, triceps muscle, and humerus, where pellets from the first shot impacted. Minor damage to the right mandible, teeth, maxilla, and temporal bone, which was likely sustained at the same time. This is consistent with the victim attempting to protect his passenger and avoid the first blast. Evidence of powder burns at the edges of the wounds, indicative of the injuries being inflicted at close range, through the open car window. One pellet narrowly missed the brachial artery.”
The pathologist turned the body with the help of his assistant, and began documenting the damage to Kyle’s back, and the injury which had ultimately taken his life. The shot delivered after the killer had reloaded his weapon, demonstrating the cold, callous nature of their murderer.
The DI shuddered. He had calmly collected his shells after dispatching the youngsters, in full view of anyone who might have happened along the road.
“I will now begin the incisions.” Hanson announced.
The DI averted her eyes until he had completed the initial cuts. It was the scalpel’s first breaking of a victim’s skin that clenched her gut. Such an unnatural act, to defile them, even in a post-mortem.
Dewi met her back at CID. “How did it go?”
She pressed her lips together.
“I admire you.” He tapped her arm. “I know you hate seeing them, but you brave it anyway.”
“Kyle tried to protect himself and Brianna. Otherwise, the first shot would have been a fatal head shot. What I don’t understand, is why he opened his window?”
“It was a warm night. He may have had it open already.”
“True, unless the killer approached with a torch, and Kyle mistook him for police. He’d been drinking alcohol and smoked cannabis, and may have been nervous of police coming along. He may have assumed the attacker was an officer.”
“Quite possible.”
“So Kyle, in his injured state, got out of the car, and made a run for it. The killer reloaded and shot the injured boy again, this time in th
e back.”
“Right, but before that, he went around to the passenger side and shot Brianna. Did she die straight away?”
She shook her head. “Hanson doesn’t think so. After examining her brain, he believes the head shot knocked her unconscious. She died during the next hour, without regaining consciousness. We should speak to the parents to find out what was going on in the teens’ lives, but it’s entirely possible they had never met their killer before that night.”
“Jesus, that’s frightening…”
“It is, but we should be careful what we release to the press. We want the public to be safe, but we can't be too specific about injuries. I’ll speak with the DCI about the press release. Reporters are desperate for information, and I think he intends delivering it himself.”
“What have you got there?” Dewi eyed the paperwork under her arm.
“Hanson’s reports for Miles and Seren Payne. I’ll go through them and fill the team in.”
“Right you are, I’ll get you a coffee.”
She grinned. “Top man.”
11
The killer’s whim
Unlike the teenagers at Dolfor Heights, the Paynes had spent hours with their killer before they died.
Both had become dehydrated and burned in the sun. Miles, on the right side of his face and right arm, and Seren, down the right side of her face and body, suggesting they had lain for some time on their left after being trussed up. They were hog-tied using black guide ropes from a tent. The bindings were so tight on Seren that her hands had swollen, and deep red welts snaked her wrists.
The murderer had shot them both in the back, and Miles also in the head. There were no other injuries, no sign of sexual assault, and there were no intoxicants in the couple’s systems, save for the remnants of alcohol consumed the night before.
The DI sat back in her chair, staring through the window at motionless trees melting in the heat outside.
“Penny for them?” Dewi returned, setting her coffee down on the desk.
“What to make of these photographs?” She pointed to the images lying on the table, twelve of them, most taken around the time of the Paynes’ deaths, but found in a seemingly unrelated rucksack.
“I thought you were going through post-mortem reports?”
“I was. I’ve moved on. You were ages with my coffee.”
“Cheeky…” Dewi grinned. “Callum waylaid me.”
She took a gulp of the coffee, wincing as it burned her palate. “I was reading the reports and thinking about the time the killer took with them, lingering it out. He trussed them up, took their belongings, and spent around hours with them. What was he doing during that time, while they were burning in that blistering sun?”
“Exerting his power and control, I would say.”
“But why for so long? Like he was unafraid of being discovered in that public wood.”
“He could have been trying to extract pin numbers from them. And he was unsuccessful, and that is why he killed them, and why he hasn't used the cards.”
“Then, there are the photographs.” She pointed to the images spread on her desk. “I know we can't link the backpack to the Paynes, but the lab confirmed the dates and timestamps on these images, and ten of them coincide exactly with the time we think the Paynes were with their killer. Perhaps, he took the pictures while they lay helpless in that clearing. Then took two more after it got dark.”
“We need to know where the rucksack came from.”
“Exactly. Look at the pictures, Dewi. I’m struggling to find a point to any of them.”
He bent his head, carefully perusing each. “I see what you mean.”
“If there was a landmark, or a focal point that made sense, I’d understand why someone took them. And there are so many up through the tree canopy, including in the darkness.”
“It’s hard to say where the images were taken.”
“Perhaps that was the point…” She frowned. “And then, there’s the camera itself. Wiped clean of prints. Not a single one extracted from it. How does that work? Someone could have been messing around with the camera, a child perhaps, and ended up taking a bunch of random photographs, but there would still be fingerprints. Did they use gloves? If so, why? It’s not cold. The camera is two years old, but these were the only images on it, all taken on that day and night.”
Dewi frowned. “You think the camera belonged to the Paynes’ killer?”
“Whoever this camera belongs to, I think it spent time in the killer’s hands. And after he tied the Paynes up, he took those photographs and left the camera in that bag for us to find. If I’m right, the killer is leaving us obtuse clues. So we have to identify where the cameraman stood when he took them. It’s a suggestion I’m making, and I think one worth considering.”
“How do would we go about finding where he took them?”
She pointed to an image containing part of a tree trunk and a sliver of landscape behind. “This may be our best bet. We have a glimmer of the land beyond that tree. We find that area and search within it. I have a feeling we will find more than just a tree.”
“That is one heck of a quest, Yvonne.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“I know, but if I am right, our killer is leading us on a sick game… A treasure hunt, if you will.”
Police had cordoned off a sizeable stretch of the River Severn at Newtown. Outside of it, locals swam and picnicked, oblivious to the frantic search going on further along the water.
The deepest pools were the first to be investigated by divers. If Jason Timms drowned, his body was likely to be submerged. Decomposition gases wouldn’t lift it for at least another week, probably longer. So, they started with the pools, and would follow with other pertinent sites downstream of where his belongings had lain.
Yvonne made her way through the cordon, towards the nearest of the divers who had just emerged from the river. “Anything?” She asked, flashing her badge.
He pushed up his diving mask and the rubber hood off his head. “Sorry?”
“DI Giles,” she explained, realising he hadn’t heard her. “I was asking if you’d found any trace of him?” She knew they had not found his body. If they had, there would have been a great deal of shouting and activity along the bank.
He shook his head. “No sign of him, yet. We found an old bike frame, and a couple of footballs.” He grimaced. “I don’t think he’s in there. We’re continuing downstream but, if the current carried him, I doubt it would have been far. The river is not that high. There’s a few smaller pools to search, and we’ll examine the bank in case he’s snagged somewhere, but I’m not hopeful. It’ll be two or three days before we can say whether he's here for sure.”
She nodded. “Perhaps he disappeared by choice, and isn't in the river. The investigation is wide open at this stage, thanks anyway.”
As she walked the path back to the car, she pondered Jason’s things — the phone used to take strange photographs of the river bank, some from within the water, and whose SIM card was missing. The lab explained the photographer had used the phone camera in a clear plastic bag, such as a sandwich bag, which was why the images had a haze to them. This would make sense, since the phone showed no signs of water damage. They hadn't found a plastic bag with Jason’s belongings or anywhere along that stretch of the bank. It had either blown away, or the photographer had taken it with him. Someone had then cleaned the phone of prints.
The similarities between the circumstances of the camera found in the rucksack on the Ridgeway, and Jason Timms’ phone had not escaped her. Someone had cleaned both of fingerprints, after taking several strange photographs. In her mind, the two events had to be connected.
12
An unexpected revelation
Sian Timms stared at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
“May I come in?” Yvonne had the feeling she was interrupting something.
“Er… of course.” The other woman stepped back. She appeared less intimidatin
g without makeup, and wearing tracksuit bottoms with a vest top.
The DI followed her through the mid-terrace property, to a lounge barely bigger than the three-piece suite, coffee table, and television it contained.
After meeting Mrs Timms at the station days before, she had expected a more modern, sleek look. But, with a thick wool rug and wood-burning stove, it had a homely cottage feel.
“Do you have news?” Sian stood with her back to the detective, shoulders tense.
“I’m afraid not.” Yvonne sighed. “We’re still searching the river, but there has so far been no sign of him.”
Mrs Timms wrung her hands as she turned to the detective. “I really thought he’d be home by now. I’m sorry, I should have told you to take a seat,” she added, realising Yvonne was still standing by the door.
“Thank you.” She sat on the sofa. “Does your husband own a rucksack?”
“A rucksack?” Sian frowned.
“Yes, a large all-weather backpack.” She pulled out photographs of the khaki bag and its contents. “May I?” she asked, pointing towards the Ercol-style coffee table.
“Sure.” Sian nodded. “Go ahead.”
Yvonne spread the images over the table. “Do you recognise any of these items?”
The other woman shook her head.
“Are you sure? Please, take your time.”
Jason’s wife did as instructed, taking a second for each photo. When she finished, she sat back, shoulders relaxing. “They’re not his.”
“Are you sure of that?”
Sian nodded. “Very sure. They do not belong to my husband.”
“Might they belong to a friend of his, perhaps? A friend of yours?” The DI kept her gaze level, but she scoured Sian’s face for any flicker of recognition.
Mrs Timms’ gaze was equally cool. “No.”
“You’re sure about that?”
The Wilderness Murders: DI Giles Book 16 (DI Giles Suspense Thriller Series) Page 6