The Wilderness Murders: DI Giles Book 16 (DI Giles Suspense Thriller Series)

by Anna-Marie Morgan

  “Okay.” The DI pulled another set of prints from her bag. “Then, there are these.” She passed them to Tasha. “Taken from the phone of a missing man from Welshpool, last seen, getting into his vehicle outside of his home. We still haven’t located his car, and he’s been missing for ten days.”

  “Then how did you get hold of his phone?”

  “It was left with other personal items in a pile by the river in Newtown, in Dolerw Park. The photo files had been wiped and those images, all taken on the same day, were all that was left. They were taken on the last day he was seen. Forensics think the phone was in a plastic bag when the images were shot.”

  Tasha nodded. “I thought as much, because of that one.” She pointed to the image of the bank, which had been taken with the camera lens part-way under water. “Perhaps they were supposed to be artistic, but they give me the creeps. When I look at them, I feel like I am drowning.”

  “Yes, me too, and many of the images are blurred.”

  “Right, which only adds to their creepiness. The angles and feel of both sets is similar-”

  “Like they were taken by the same person,” Yvonne finished her sentence for her.

  “Precisely.”

  “And, that’s as far as I have gone.”

  “Does the rucksack belong to the missing man?”

  “I asked his wife, and she is adamant it doesn’t.”

  “Wow, it’s quite a coincidence, if the two sets of photographs are unrelated.”

  “My gut tells me they are linked, and that this somehow ties in with our murders.”

  “In what way?” Tasha tilted her head, wiping sweat from her brow.

  “Both couples were lacking their personal items, when their bodies were found. The DCI thinks I am losing the plot, but I have a feeling that their things are going to show up at some point, and either a phone or a camera in each case will contain photos of this sort.”

  Tasha rubbed her chin. “What about the exif data for each photo? Have the tech lab confirmed the photos were taken with that same camera and phone? I’m wondering whether the memory cards could have been swapped or tampered with?”

  “As far as we know, the exif data is intact, and the images untampered with.”

  “I see. I don’t envy you sorting this mess out.”

  The DI grimaced. “It’s hard seeing the wood for the trees.”

  14

  The hunter

  He slung the gun bag over his shoulder, checking both directions before heading to the vehicle. He licked the sweat from his upper lip and wished he had chosen a thinner shirt under his wax jacket.

  The churning in his stomach was back. He always got it, right before the hunt, and it always left him the moment he was face-to-face with his victim. Then, calm would descend, a seductive, comforting wave of it. Perhaps it was the feeling of control after the edgy period of searching was over. He had heard that most killers felt peace after the murder. For him, it was always right before.

  He wiped his palms on the thighs of his jeans before opening the door and throwing the bag in the passenger footwell, out of sight.

  Hafren Forest was today’s hunting ground. He would pick a spot with only one vehicle and no CCTV.

  A flat cap pulled over his eyes would aid anonymity, in case he ran into a would-be witness.

  But what if nobody came? What if the horror of his previous crimes stopped anyone venturing out, even after the long-awaited freedom from COVID restrictions? There were plenty of times when he had gone away empty-handed. No walkers, no kill. He couldn’t sleep after trips like that, and would be on edge for days, even weeks. He would be hot, sweaty, cold, limp, and listless.

  He couldn’t let that happen. Not today.

  “He killed them here.” Yvonne led Tasha beyond the police cordon, several days after the search and crime scene officers had abandoned it. “We believe they were forced here at gunpoint from their camps site, fifteen minutes' walk over that way.” She pointed through the trees.

  “They would have been terrified.”

  The DI nodded. “He uses a gun, but it’s clear to me he enjoys being up close and personal, and doesn’t kill from a distance. He gets almost as near to his victims as he would if he were using a knife.”

  “Well, if you were going after people with a knife, some might fancy their chances against a blade. But a gun? Not so much.” Tasha scratched her head. “How is he choosing his victims? Is he stalking them? Or are they crimes of opportunity?”

  “That’s where you come in, Tasha. Is he likely to be stalking each of the victims beforehand? We’ve been in lockdown, people haven’t been out and about as much. Or, is he an opportunist?”

  “Tell me more about the crime scenes.”

  Yvonne walked the psychologist through the Ridgeway and Dolfor Heights murders.

  Tasha pursed her lips, pondering what the DI had told her. “He is local, I would think… Probably lives within a thirty-mile radius of Newtown. He knows how to handle a gun, but he isn’t necessarily proficient.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, your victims were killed at close range. You don’t need to be an excellent shot for that. These murders are not personal. There’s no passion. They’re cold; without feeling. He doesn’t want to be up close to his prey. I would wager that’s not what gives him a thrill. He’s close, only because he is using a shotgun, and he isn’t that good a shot. At least not yet. I don’t think this killer has had years of experience handling guns. I think he’s probably relatively new to them. As for stalking, it’s possible he does that, but I think it unlikely. Your man is a hunter, and an opportunist, hanging about country walks, waiting. He likes the feeling of the weapon in his hands and, being local, he knows where people are likely to go, even during lockdown, and can choose the quieter routes. He’ll be dressed to fit in, and melt into the background, perhaps dressed in overalls or farmer’s gear. That way, if he’s seen, he won’t look out of place. It also means people will be less worried by his approach.”

  Yvonne tilted her head. “You think he’s a hunter, do you mean he chases them down?”

  “No… More likely, he leaves the house not knowing who he is going to harm. That is the thrill, the will-he, won’t-he part. There’s no guarantee he’ll find anyone suitable. He’s working with probabilities, and there will be plenty of times when he goes home empty-handed. His desire for control will not have been sated, and he will be out on the hunt again as soon as he is able. He kills them relatively quickly. I don’t see signs of his lingering out murder itself. Having tied them up, he doesn’t injure them until he pulls the trigger. He’s not interested in stealing from them, and does so only to leave a confusing trail for you, the police. He does this because he knows you are hunting him. This probably provides part of the overall thrill. He enjoys his hunt and, in his own sick way, he wants you to enjoy yours, too.”

  Yvonne cast her eyes over the horizon. “How old do you think he is?”

  “Now that, I am undecided about. There is a naivety to these crimes I think he’s in a younger age-range. Though, as long as he is fit enough to walk, and has a gun, that is enough to commit these crimes. I’d predict him to be eighteen to forty-five currently. I wouldn’t want to narrow it down more until I’ve seen the crime scene photos. Leaving the belongings of victims for you to find is risky. He gets a thrill from it, but it’s sloppy, and likely to lead to his downfall. He’s forensically aware, but it’s still a dangerous thing for him to do. I’d say that being hunted by you is as important to him as his kills, so long as he is successful in keeping you at bay.”

  The DI nodded. “Thank you, Tasha, you have really helped to clarify my thoughts. Perhaps, we could use his need to goad us, to bait him. We’ve increased patrols in rural areas. I’ll let them know to look out for, and question, farmhands and farmer-types when they come across them.”

  “Good.” Tasha nodded. “Officers may already have spoken to him, but he’ll have been innocuous, and th
ey’ll have let him go. They’ll need to pay close attention and, if their gut tells them something is off, they should keep their eye on whoever gives them that gut feeling.”

  “I’ll make sure all officers are aware.”

  15

  Grim discovery

  The sky cracked, roaring so loud, Yvonne felt a powerful urge to duck.

  “Christ!” Dewi looked up at the darkening skies, billowing cloud blotting out the sun. “It’s going to be hell working a scene in this.”

  Her head pounded, while her stomach muscles refused to relax. She’d felt like this since the call came through about the body in the Ceri Forest.

  As she and Dewi jumped in the car, the heavens opened, spewing an angry deluge that bounced several inches in the station car park.

  It took them half-an-hour to reach the lay-by nearest the body and, by the time they did, police vehicles and ambulances had already filled it, and were lining up down the road.

  They parked at the back of the long line of emergency vehicles. It felt like overkill, but that was the way of things these days.

  They suited up before approaching the main cordon. The sun beat down as though the storm had never happened.

  He lay where he had fallen, shot in the right thigh and back of the head.

  Yvonne thought of the rucksack which had been found two-and-a-half kilometres from where the young man lay. Was he the owner?

  The smell had attracted a flurry of flies. The victim’s face was all but gone.

  The DI donned her mask, though it provided scant protection from the odour. She witnessed Dewi wretch from the corner of her eye.

  She approached the nearest crime scene officer, who threw her a glance before turning his focus back to his colleagues hauling the tent over the body.

  “How soon can we have a DNA analysis on the victim?” she asked him.

  He turned to her with a sigh. “Two days… most likely. He’s been out here for at least a couple of weeks, I’d say.”

  “Is Hanson here?”

  “He’s on his way.”

  The DI entered the tent, kneeling close to the victim. He lay in the recovery position, head turned to the left. His clothes were torn and covered in blood. His fingernails were full of dirt, and soil and leaves were held in clenched fists, either side of his head.

  She grimaced. “Looks like he was shot in the leg, and was probably attempting to pick himself up when the fatal headshot was delivered.”

  The SOCO nodded. “He was taken out with a shotgun.”

  She pursed her lips. “Just like the others.”

  A violent crescendo overhead heralded a second downpour of heavy rain. It battered the roof of the tent.

  “Thank goodness we’re in here.” The forensic officer said, as he took samples from the body.

  Yvonne stood, giving him more room to work.

  “I take it you don’t know who he is?” he asked.

  “No.” She shook her head. “We may have found some of his property, that’s why I would like his DNA tested as soon as possible.”

  Dewi joined them in the tent, his plastic suit dripping water. He stayed at the entrance to avoid contaminating the area around the victim. “You came in here just in time.” He pulled a face. “It’s stair rods out there.”

  Yvonne nodded. “I can hear it.”

  “Carl Baker,” the SOCO officer announced. “With a C.”

  They turned to him.

  “It’s the name tag in the back of his jeans,” he added, referring to the camouflage trousers the victim wore.

  The DI frowned. “Is that the clothing make? Like Ted Baker?”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “No, it’s a home-made label, probably sewn in by his mother. I think this boy’s name is Carl Baker. And, given the condition of his teeth, I’d say he was in his early twenties.”

  “God, that’s no age…” Dewi shook his head, pressing his lips firmly together.

  Yvonne phoned Callum.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Can you run the name Carl baker through Missing Persons for me? We’re on scene here in the Ceri Forest. Call me back if you get an answer this afternoon.”

  “Will do.”

  Later that afternoon, Yvonne pored over Google Maps on her iPad, zooming in and out of various places of interest.

  “You’ve got an idea, I can tell.” Dewi grinned as he set a coffee down on her desk. “Come on, spit it out.”

  She regarded him over her reading glasses. “We’ve had confirmation of Carl Baker’s identity.” She held up the printed report which Callum had left on her desk.

  “What does it say?” Dewi took it from her.

  “He’s an Australian from Victoria, who was on a year’s back-packing adventure. He had completed several countries in Europe, and arrived in Britain four weeks ago. Two weeks later, he stopped communicating with his family back home. They filed a missing person’s report when he hadn’t messaged them for over a week, and didn’t do his usual Sunday Skype call. Have a look at the description and photograph.”

  Dewi read out loud. “Blonde-haired, five-feet-eleven, and wearing camouflage trousers and a khaki shirt, when he last contacted his family via Skype. Twenty-one years-old.”

  Yvonne nodded. “We’re still waiting for DNA confirmation, but this is almost certainly our guy. Look at the rucksack in the photograph.”

  “I see what you mean, I agree, I think that is our guy.”

  “If the rucksack is confirmed as his, then his things were deposited two-and-a-half kilometres from where his body was. Why so far? And, did the killer know that three sixth-form students would find and report it? I mean, what if someone had kept it, and never reported it at all? If, as Tasha believes, the rucksack on the pathway was a message to us, why take the risk that the bag might never be reported?”

  Dewi’s brow furrowed. “Are you saying he must have known it would be them, and that they would call it in? Do you think the killer knows those boys?”

  “I don’t know but, whether-or-not he does, the distance between the victim and his belongings does not bode well for our search for Jason Timms. If Timms is another victim, his body could be miles away from where his belongings were found.”

  “Giving us a huge search area.”

  “Exactly, and perhaps that’s the killer’s aim… to leave the items so that we know there is a victim, but giving no hint where the body might be.”

  “He is one sick SOB.”

  “He is, and Tasha thinks he gets as much of a kick out of giving us the runaround, as he is gets from the actual murders.”

  “So, how are we going to stop him?”

  “What have ballistics said about the shotgun?”

  “They need more, ideally, cartridges. But, we know he is cleaning them up from the crime scenes. If we arrest a suspect, they can check for residue and match him that way. The gun used is a twelve-bore. The cartridges are readily available online. They’ve been examining the pattern of pellets in the victims, and are test-firing various types of weapon to see if they can pinpoint the maker and barrel length for us. They are hoping the gunman will slip up and leave a cartridge case behind.”

  “Aren’t we all… Okay, Dewi, keep me informed.”

  “Will do.”

  16

  Prey

  He watched them exit the camper van. The male first, extending a hand to his wife, and helping her down.

  He sniggered. Falling off a camper step would be as nothing compared to the plans he had for them.

  The man carried a full and heavy backpack that pulled at his white t-shirt and would slow him down.

  The wife walked free from burden. He knew they were married. He could see the rings on their fingers through his binoculars. Or, perhaps, they were each married to someone else, and having an affair.

  They set off walking. He clocked their direction and put his field glasses away. It was time to follow.

  Yvonne found Sian Timms laid out on a lounger in her ga
rden, wearing swimwear, sports cap, and sunglasses. A cocktail glass containing a red beverage occupied a trestle table next to her.

  “Mrs Timms?” She waited by the gate.

  The woman bolted upright. “Inspector Giles, was I expecting you?”

  “No, I was in the vicinity, and thought I’d pop by to update you.” Surprise had been the DI’s goal.

  There was little about Sian Timms to suggest that her husband was missing. And, given that five people had been murdered in the area recently, she showed little of the fear one might expect under such circumstances.

  “Have you found him?” Sian pushed her sunglasses up onto her head.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Then, how can you update me?” The other woman frowned.

  “I wanted to tell you what we’ve been doing so far, in the effort to find your husband. I didn’t want you thinking we were sitting on our hands.”

  “I didn’t think that.” Sian shrugged. “Why would I?”

  A ping emanated from the phone on the trestle table.

  Mrs Timms grabbed it, read whatever was on screen, and began texting back.

  “Is that your husband?” Yvonne tilted her head.

  Sian put the phone back on the table, placing her hat over the top. “No, it’s a friend.”

  The phone pinged again.

  This time, the woman didn’t respond.

  “A female friend?”

  The other woman cleared her throat. “Yes.”

  The DI pressed her lips together. “Hmm.”

  “So, what have you been doing to find my husband?”

  Yvonne could still see the hot and weary divers exiting the river, their determination and perseverance at stark contrast with the nonchalance displayed by the missing man’s wife. Her words caught in her throat. “We’ve had teams of divers searching the river.”

  “And?”

  “He’s not there. And, aside from the belongings we found in the beginning, there’s no sign of him ever being there.”