An Eye for an Eye (Detective Kate Young)

by Carol Wyer

‘His face . . . seems familiar.’

  ‘In what way? Have you met him before?’

  ‘No. I felt something similar when I saw his photo on his website.’

  ‘Photo. Think, Kate. Think.’

  She shut her eyes for a moment. Of course! She’d seen Ian before. He hadn’t aged as much as the others, but it was definitely the same person. Ian Wentworth was in the photograph of Alex Corby and John Dickson taken on the ski slopes. Dickson knew both men!

  ‘Dickson . . . photograph.’

  The sound of distant sirens alerted her to the arrival of the team.

  ‘Be careful, Kate.’

  ‘I shall,’ she said absent-mindedly, staring up once more at the shining silver speck and the vapour trail it had left behind.

  Corby, Wentworth and Dickson. What had she got herself involved in?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  SUNDAY, 6 JUNE – EVENING

  Festival House was quickly cordoned off and a forensic team led by Ervin set up inside the penthouse apartment. Kate and her officers, in full protective clothing, caught up on the investigation in the hallway of the building, away from the activity taking place on the estate. Uniformed officers kept curious observers at bay, but word was getting out fast. It had been impossible to ignore the forensic team with their paper suits and white metal cases, streaming from the car park, or the police officers who were at present conducting door-to-door enquiries.

  Emma kept her voice low. ‘Sierra swears she caught the bus to Uttoxeter, where she works at the Cinebowl Entertainment Centre, at eleven fifteen on Thursday morning. She last saw Bradley in his car parked outside her house, on the phone to somebody. She lifted a hand and waved goodbye and he returned the gesture, but she didn’t notice him pull away. She’s got a rock-solid alibi, because not only is there CCTV on the buses, which will undoubtedly support her story, but she sat next to a friend and work colleague, Donna Croft, who was on the same shift as her. I can follow this up to confirm it, but I’m convinced she wasn’t having sex with her dad’s friend.’

  Emma’s perspicacity was not to be ignored. If she was sure there was nothing going on between Bradley and Sierra, it was good enough for Kate.

  ‘We should question Bradley about his missing friend and query his whereabouts for Thursday again,’ said Morgan.

  Kate nodded. ‘We’re going to have to, because I’m uncomfortable about Cooper’s sudden vanishing act.’

  ‘Kate! You can come up.’ Ervin’s voice travelled the three floors without having to be raised.

  ‘On our way,’ she called back, leading the ascent.

  Several white-suited officers were performing practised choreographed actions throughout the apartment, some on their knees searching through drawers, others bent over furniture dusting for prints, while more still padded from area to area and ascended or descended the floating staircase.

  The pathologist, Harvey Fuller, was still examining Ian’s body. He glanced up at the trio’s arrival. ‘It looks as if the same implement, or a similar one, has been used.’ He shone a tiny torch towards the roof of Ian’s mouth, the beam revealing red-raw ridges where an object had cut into the soft palate. Using a spatula, Harvey pointed out gouges inside the man’s cheeks. ‘The marks look identical to those I found inside Alex Corby’s mouth.’

  ‘And again, there’s no sign of the object that caused this?’ Kate was perplexed by this fact.

  ‘No sign at all,’ said Ervin, who’d joined them. ‘That’s to say, we haven’t come across it.’

  Harvey continued, ‘As you can tell, the body’s in what we call the rigid stage. The victim’s muscles are stiff and his body core is at room temperature, and has probably been so for some time.’ Kate was aware that a body, normally thirty-seven degrees Celsius, would lose one point five degrees of heat every hour after the heart stopped beating until it reached room temperature. Harvey continued, ‘My best guess is he died late last night, approximately eight to twelve hours ago. I might be able to give you a better idea after I’ve run the post-mortem.’

  ‘Anything else you can tell us?’ Kate asked.

  ‘I need to run further tests, but there are well-marked asphyxial changes in his throat and remaining eye, suggesting he choked to death.’

  ‘Like Alex.’

  ‘Yes, I would say so.’

  ‘Thanks, Harvey.’ Kate turned away from the gruesome spectacle and searched for William. She didn’t spot him, but she did glimpse Faith, checking the kitchen top.

  ‘Once again, this has been meticulously executed,’ said Ervin. His face was covered with a mask so only his eyes, heavy-lidded from lack of sleep, were visible.

  Kate agreed. Whoever had done this had been well prepared. There was no sense of haste, which was something she’d discuss further with her team later, during the debrief. They needed to draw up a profile of the person, or persons, involved in this.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve found anything useful yet?’ she asked.

  ‘I know you’re only asking me because you have extraordinary confidence in my abilities to unearth clues and evidence but, seriously, have you seen the size of this place? Can’t you find me some victims who live in normal-sized houses or one-bedroomed bijou apartments, like mine?’ The corners of his eyes crinkled warmly as he spoke.

  ‘I’ll make a note for next time,’ she replied, and earnt a chuckle. ‘I see you brought Faith along.’

  ‘I thought she’d enjoy working an actual crime scene. She’s been stuck on lab work ever since she arrived, and has been pestering me to get some hands-on experience. I also thought it would be useful to have a fresh-faced enthusiastic forensic scientist at the scene, to help offset this jaded one.’ He turned and raised his voice. ‘Faith, how are you getting on?’

  Her head snapped up at the mention of her name. She lifted a blue-gloved hand in greeting. ‘Fine. Everything’s pristine, though. Ian must have had OCD. I’ve never seen such a clean place.’

  ‘Maybe the killer cleaned up after themselves,’ said Morgan, who had wandered across to join her.

  Faith shook her head. ‘No, it’s far more likely Ian or whoever he employed to clean kept it this way. The fridge shelves are immaculate and everywhere smacks of excellent housekeeping rather than a clean-up job.’

  Kate wandered over to the kitchen island and stared at a jet-black bowl where oranges, apples and even cherries had been layered according to size and colour. ‘Who on earth organises a fruit bowl like that?’

  ‘Somebody with OCD,’ Faith replied before making her way up the staircase.

  Kate studied the fruit. The apples were bright red and shone like large glass balls. The apple on the plate beside Ian was a different variety and colour.

  ‘Are there any other apples in the apartment?’ she asked Ervin.

  ‘Don’t think so.’ He checked the fridge. ‘None in there.’

  ‘Can you find out what variety it is, please?’ she asked, indicating the pieces on the plate.

  Ervin opened his eyes in surprise. ‘They come in varieties? I thought they came in red, green or yellow.’ The glib comment produced a chuckle from Morgan, who gave Ervin a thumbs-up. Ervin gave a small bow. ‘Sure, I’ll check it out for you. Right, I’d better get on. I swear the killer is a ghost. There’s not a bloody trace so far.’

  Kate spotted a Hewlett Packard laptop in an evidence bag next to a similarly bagged mobile, propped beside the bookshelves.

  ‘Can we take his phone and laptop?’

  ‘I think Faith intended to examine them.’ Ervin looked around for her, and seeing she was no longer downstairs, waved airily at the objects and said, ‘Go ahead, they’ve been listed as evidence and dusted for prints, so take them. She’s got plenty to keep her busy anyway.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll send them to the lab once we’ve taken a look at them.’

  ‘There’s no hurry. We’re up to our eyeballs in work. Oh dear, not the best choice of words, was it?’ he added, wincing.

  ‘Emm
a, Morgan . . . time to go. One of you bring the laptop and phone with you, will you?’

  They headed to the hallway and started removing their protective clothing.

  ‘Initial thoughts on this?’ asked Kate, tugging off her overalls.

  ‘We’re definitely looking for the same killer,’ said Morgan. ‘The whole torturing element leads me to think they’re either trying to extract information from the victims, or punishing them.’

  ‘But how could the victim give information with their mouth stretched open? They wouldn’t be able to speak,’ said Kate.

  ‘They could make noises or gestures to yes-or-no questions,’ Morgan suggested.

  ‘True. We’ll consider it. I won’t discount any theory at this stage.’

  Emma yanked off her plastic overshoes, balled them and threw them in the bin. ‘I’m worried about the whole eyeball business. We initially believed whoever murdered Alex removed and kept his eye as a trophy, but they didn’t. It was left in a jar at Ian’s holiday cottage as a warning. This MO – the apples, torture, choking the victims to death and then stealing one of their eyes is . . . unusual. I don’t know who we’re looking for here, but I can’t help but think the perp will send Ian’s eye to another victim.’

  ‘I agree the MO is highly unusual, but we can’t automatically assume there’ll be another victim,’ said Morgan. ‘This could be it. The killer has targeted these two men for a reason and is done. We don’t often come across serial killers and you’re suggesting that’s what we have here.’

  ‘We don’t want to jump to conclusions, but there could well be another intended victim,’ said Kate. ‘We need to establish what connects Alex and Ian because that might lead us to them and/ or the killer.’ She already had one connection – Dickson. She balanced on one leg to remove her shoe protector, but a wave of nausea and dizziness made her place her foot back down on the ground.

  ‘You okay?’ asked Emma.

  ‘Loss of concentration for a second,’ Kate replied, waiting for the black spots in front of her eyes to disappear. She didn’t want to mention Dickson’s involvement or his relationship to the dead men. She had to keep it to herself for the time being, not simply because she didn’t want him to know she was suspicious, but because she had unfinished business with him. He’d blocked any efforts she’d made to become involved or learn more about the incident on the Euston train and she had yet to establish why. At this point, she wanted to keep him on side. It was always best to keep your enemies close.

  She regained her balance and removed the final overshoe. ‘I’d intended asking Ian what he knew about Alex, but now that opportunity’s gone we can only go back to Alex’s family and ask them about Ian. Keeping the lid on the murder of a businessman was one thing, but if the media gets wind of this and makes any connection between the two men or finds out about the eye in the jar, it could blow up in our faces and we’ll have mega problems containing it. Morgan, get hold of Bradley. Emma and I will meet you back at the station. I have to talk to DCI Chase about how best to handle this. Emma, drag up everything you can from databases, phone records and Ian’s laptop. I’m looking for links between him and Alex.’

  ‘On it.’ Morgan pushed open the door and they exited the building.

  A small group of reporters was lying in wait for them. Kate heard her name being called and shielded her face from the cameras, then froze . . .

  ‘Kate, can you confirm this was a one-off attack?’

  ‘Have you any idea as to why the gunman opened fire?’

  ‘Have you spoken to any of the other victims’ families?’

  ‘Kate, could you tell us—’

  All the shouts blur into one cacophony of noise. She no longer shuts her eyes against the camera flashes. She is frozen in time. Completely numb. William, by her side, has his hand on her shoulder. The weight is comforting. She allows him to steer her through the sea of faces, shouting at them to back off. A car is waiting outside the station, its rear door open. William helps her inside, shielding her all the while from the baying crowd, then turns to yell at an insistent photographer, attempting to snap the overwhelmed detective.

  Kate shrinks into the seat and stares ahead. William clambers in next to her and they’re whisked away, leaving bedlam behind. The interior of the car is comfortable and Kate wants to sink into it and disappear for ever.

  ‘It’ll get easier. They’ll stop asking questions eventually,’ says William, after a few moments.

  She nods but inside she knows they have to keep asking questions. It’s the only way she’ll ever discover the truth.

  The hacks were firing questions at her. Incapable of ungluing her feet from the spot, Kate stood and gawped.

  ‘Is it true one of the residents has been found dead?’ shouted a female voice.

  ‘No comment,’ yelled Morgan. His voice wrenched Kate from her trance-like state.

  ‘Can you confirm somebody has died under suspicious circumstances?’

  ‘As my officer just told you, no comment.’ Kate shouldered her way forwards, flanked by Emma and Morgan.

  It was only when she reached her Audi and was once again behind the wheel that she crumbled. Emma and Morgan hurtled off in different directions, sirens blaring, and Kate, key in the ignition, could not turn it. Flashes of memory hit her repeatedly: faces, blood, more faces, all of them staring at her.

  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, but still the faces on the train came: the elderly man, the businessman with his tie slightly undone, the woman face down in a pool of blood. She thumped the steering wheel hard with both hands. ‘Stop!’

  The hallucination retreated as quickly as it had arrived and she drew a shuddering breath. She reached for her bag, popped two pills and downed them with a sip from a bottle of water, then fired the engine and pulled away into the traffic.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  SUNDAY, 6 JUNE – EVENING

  William Chase was concern personified. He marched towards Kate and swept her to his office and offered her a seat.

  ‘You didn’t come to the crime scene,’ she said.

  ‘I had something urgent to attend to. Fill me in.’

  ‘Exactly the same MO as with Alex. The victim choked to death on a piece of apple, and, given there were eleven pieces remaining on the plate, my money is on there being two pieces of apple inside Ian Wentworth’s throat or stomach.’

  ‘Do you think there’s any relevance to that number, apart from the fact it is considered unlucky?’

  ‘There might be, but I’m not fixating on it.’ She watched for any tell or giveaway to indicate William was trying to push her in a certain direction, but his questions were quick-fire.

  ‘Which eye was missing?’

  ‘Right eye. Same as Alex’s.’

  William pursed his lips. ‘What else?’

  ‘We believe the implement used to force open Alex’s mouth was also used on this victim.’

  ‘Any idea what it was?’

  ‘None at all.’

  ‘What’s your plan of action?’

  ‘We’re trying to establish a link between the two men.’

  William cleared his throat. ‘We already have one. Superintendent Dickson was friends with both of them. I spoke to him immediately after you rang me, which is why I was unable to attend the crime scene. It’s obviously of great concern to him.’

  Dickson would have had no choice but to reveal his connection to both men. He knew she would have found out about it eventually, so he was pre-empting that by ensuring the news came from William, ‘his lieutenant’, as Chris had called him, so as not to arouse suspicion.

  She maintained a poker face. ‘I know he was at school with Alex, but what’s his connection to Ian?’

  ‘They met on a skiing holiday in the French Alps years ago and formed a loose friendship, saw each other a few times in the early years, less in latter ones.’

  ‘The superintendent told you this?’

  ‘He did. In the strictest confide
nce.’

  ‘Do you think I should interview him?’

  William shook his head. ‘I doubt he can tell you any more than he has me. While he and Alex were in regular contact and even met up for the occasional drink, he rarely saw Ian – “once in a blue moon”.’

  It was no more than she expected. Dickson had used William to relay sufficient information to keep her off his back. ‘We’re concerned the killer will send Ian’s eye to another intended victim and then attack again. Obviously, we can’t be sure, but the modus operandi is so unusual we can’t rule out the possibility we’re dealing with – I hate using this term – a serial killer.’

  ‘You only have two murders at the moment, Kate.’

  ‘Which is why I’m loath to jump to such a conclusion at this stage. However, it would be irresponsible not to consider this possibility and I’d like to know what information we should release to the press. They’ll soon put two and two together and realise the cases are related in some way.’

  William strode to the window and clasped his hands behind his back. He stared out for a moment then said, ‘John wants us to keep all of this as low-key as possible. We’re only going to release essential information to the press and all details of the investigation are to remain strictly within the team. You know how people jump to conclusions, and if the words “serial killer” get bandied around, there’ll be a major shitstorm. Make sure your team stays tight-lipped, and the press office will handle media requests. You’re okay with that, aren’t you?’ The question was deliberately fashioned for agreement and accompanied by a steely gaze.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. Thanks, Kate. I knew you’d understand. We can’t have any information leaks. It will only lead to alarm.’

  Dismissed, Kate stood in the corridor. She was baffled as to why her superiors were so insistent on keeping everything under wraps. If this was the work of a serial killer, it would require more than a small investigative team, who in turn would require the support of the media to help track down the person or persons responsible. The answer was out of reach.