Persecution

by R. C. Bridgestock

Mike moved as if to rise, casting his eyes over the big flat-topped conference table at the centre of the CID office, which was far larger than the average, general office. Thus enabling it to double-up as an incident room. Then he swiftly counted heads. ‘I think there are enough of us to speak to them separately, all at the same time.’ The DS squared his shoulders and cupped his hand at the side of his mouth before calling out. ‘Anyone free to take a statement?’

  Minutes later the officers answering his call followed him down the steps to the front office.

  ‘We need their shoe prints, and an account of their movements on the night in question,’ Mike instructed.

  ‘Looks like it might actually work in our favour that we didn’t take Maddox’s shoe prints yesterday,’ said Bill to Mike, as they walked briskly together down the corridor.

  ‘How’s that?’ Mike replied.

  ‘Because none of them will be expecting us to take them.’ Bill reached forwards to twist the security lock on the door which enabled entrance to the front office.

  The others formed a queue behind him ready to follow on. Winnie came through the door, the smell coming from the old lady’s shopping trolley told them that their warm breakfast sandwiches had arrived. All heads turned to follow her down the corridor, the officers’ mouths watering, knowing they would be cold when they eventually ate them.

  ‘I don’t know which is easier to digest, the thought of what the scrote might be up to, or him baring his backside on the Town Hall steps,’ Annie whispered to DC Ricky-Lee, nodding her head in Wilkie’s direction.

  ‘What surprises me is that you think there’s actually a choice?’ chuckled the DC, just as the door was released and the mask of the detective slipped into place.

  Over the next two hours, Tricia Carmichael, Maddox’s girlfriend, Beth Green and Kirsty Webb were interviewed about their activities on the night in question, and statements taken.

  ‘Surprisingly, they all co-operated well, in a fashion, but everyone sang from the same hymn sheet,’ said Mike to Charley, two hours later.

  ‘What did they have to say?’

  ‘They went out early doors, got smashed, and went home. None of them admitted to seeing Cordelia that night, yet we do know from the CCTV footage that they walked close by and towards where Cordelia was seen that evening, which seems a bit strange.’

  ‘How did they react to having their shoe prints taken?’

  ‘The girls were surprised, even slightly intrigued that they were asked to give shoe prints. I think they were expecting fingerprints like they’d seen on the TV and at the movies, but it wasn’t a problem for them. However, according to Bill, Maddox kicked off big time, even threatening to turn over the table and chairs in the interview room. That was until Bill reminded him that he would find that really difficult as the furniture was bolted to the floor.’ Mike chuckled.

  Charley raised her eyebrows. ‘What happened then?’

  ‘Apparently, Maddox called Bill every name under the sun during the procedure, with the odd death threat thrown in for good effect should he ruin his trainers. On a positive note, we have identified four people captured on CCTV. Only time will tell if their stories hold up when their shoe prints are checked.’

  ‘Good. Has anyone contacted the taxi company and find out who was out in that area around that time?’

  ‘Yes, and we have a cab driver outstanding as well as a young lad walking on his own, and a couple walking together who fall into the relevant timeframe.’

  ‘We need to trace and eliminate them as a priority. Tell me, do you think Maddox could be our killer?’

  Mike nodded his head. ‘Both Bill and I had this conversation earlier, and we’re equally of a mind that there’s a possibility he’s a violent individual. And he’s co-operating with us, which is totally out of character for him; something doesn’t add up.’

  ‘Let’s make sure their shoe prints are treated as a priority for checking against the prints lifted from the body.’

  Mike’s nod was more definite this time.

  * * *

  What Annie Glover saw on her mobile caused her to rush into Charley Mann’s office, demanding her immediate attention.

  ‘Boss, you really need to see this,’ she said, slightly breathless as she thrust her mobile in Charley’s face.

  With a sudden leap of her heart, Charley’s eyes darted from the computer screen to Annie’s phone.

  ‘It’s a video that was uploaded last night onto the university students’ website and that security monitor,’ Annie said by way of an explanation.

  Dead silence reigned for a moment or two as the recording began. A young girl lay on a bed, her face covered with a pillow, her pyjama bottoms and her knickers could be seen rolled down around her ankles. It was hard to see anything else but the dull grey gleam of the white bedroom furniture. Charley looked for any sign of life, but none was visible. Then came the sound of a muffled, menacing male voice. ‘I’m in control now. What shall I do next?’

  Charley found herself holding her breath as he repeated the question three times. His cruel taunting and threats sent her reeling with frustration and alarm, as in the next moment the live stream suddenly cut off, and the screen turned blank.

  Charley’s eyes looked up to find Annie’s staring back at her.

  ‘I’ve no doubt that this was filmed on campus, and where we know Dani was recently visited by a naked intruder in her room, also at night,’ she said. ‘Security sent the video to PC Lisa Bayliss, and immediately she received it she shared it with Helen and I. There doesn’t appear to be any clue as to who the girl is, any indication which room this was taken in, or of the identity of the male.’

  ‘Play it again, Annie,’ Charley demanded. ‘Presumably no report of an intruder?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’m assuming that they’ve taken the footage down from their website?’

  ‘Yes, it was taken down straightaway, and it’s not uploaded elsewhere, as far as we can tell.’

  ‘Good. Do we know, or can we find out the mobile number that the footage was sent from?’ Charley asked.

  ‘I don’t know, but I’ll find out,’ she said confidently.

  ‘It could be the offender’s, then again it could be the girl’s…’

  Charley paused for a moment. ‘What we need is a check of all occupants in the halls of residence. The quickest way would be to sound the fire alarm, which would immediately evacuate the halls to the fire-drill checkpoints, at which time a roll-call would be taken of those who had evacuated the premises, leaving just a few rooms to check.’

  Annie nodded in agreement, and Charley was silent for a few seconds, looking thoughtful and increasingly worried.

  ‘To be honest, I don’t like the similarities between how Cordelia’s body was left displayed, and this present one. There’s a possibility we’re going to find a body.’ Charley picked up the phone with some urgency. ‘I’ll get onto operational support to see if, and how quickly, they can have a team out to help us, and then I’ll ring the university. Will you inform the fire brigade that a test is to be held? Then let’s get people mobilised.’

  When Annie tried to move her legs, her insides turned to jelly. However, past experience told her that she was strong when she needed to be, nevertheless she was glad that Charley was working alongside her. ‘Do you think he might have killed her?’

  Charley took a deep breath. ‘I think it’s possible. What concerns me is that even after all the appeals that Helen and Lisa have done, no one has come forward to report this incident. This person responsible could be the naked prowler, and he’s escalated his sadistic activities in time.’

  Charley’s face was grave as she waited for the phone to be picked up at the other end. Her eyes found Annie’s. ‘He’s in control of what’s happening, that’s for sure, and we need to counter that.’

  * * *

  ‘Fire station informed. PCs Helen Weir and Lisa Bayliss are en route,’ Annie said, as she launched herself i
nto Charley’s passenger seat. The two were heading for the university.

  ‘It won’t be long before we have a numbered police presence on site,’ Charley said, looking in her rearview mirror when she reached the traffic lights at the ring road, to see others on her tail.

  On arrival at the university the staff and officers were quickly divided into groups to cover the fall-out from the fire alarm. The police were informed that lectures had been cancelled, and that the students had been instructed to return to their rooms at the halls of residence, hopefully without it alerting the offender that they were on to him.

  ‘A no-show at roll-call is to be a priority for checking someone’s room,’ DS Mike Blake told his team.

  DC Ricky-Lee came towards Charley in the car park of the university, dangling a set of keys. ‘I’ve got the spare set,’ he said, with a smile of accomplishment.

  ‘I’ve got another quick job for you,’ she replied. ‘Show housekeeping the video. It’s possible that someone might recognise something, possibly the decor or the furniture, and may be able to point us to a particular accommodation block if nothing else.’

  Once the fire alarm had been activated, the residents followed the instructions to line up in the designated areas, so that everyone present could be checked.

  The results were that twelve occupants of the halls of residence were not accounted for, of which only four were female.

  Charley caught sight of Mike walking hurriedly around the corner of the building where he’d been liaising with the administration staff. A moment later he was with them. ‘I heard from security that we’ve got just four doors to knock on,’ she said. At that moment, a gust of wind whistled through the residency complex, and around the central car park, causing Charley to move closer to Mike to hear what he had to say to her.

  ‘I’ve just been told that three of the occupants have attended lectures earlier today, and can be accounted for, which leaves only one female to locate. Cath Crowther is nineteen years old. Her flat is number eleven, and in section blue, block F.’

  This conversation helped Charley to figure out what to do next, as by a process of elimination, she believed that perhaps they had found the room they were looking for, but of more importance, where was Cath Crowther, and why was she not at her designated fire-drill checkpoint? There might be a genuine reason why, but Charley wasn’t taking any chances and time was of the essence.

  Using the master key Ricky-Lee had acquired made short work of getting into the building and entering the flat. On opening the door, the sound of the air-conditioning kicking in broke through Charley’s thoughts. The noise coming from inside gave her a jolt of panic, and she instinctively stepped backwards into Annie, who took in a short intake of breath, not realising she had held it. A second later there was the click of the light switch at Mike’s touch, and Charley stepped over the threshold. The sound instinctively made her turn in the direction it came from. However, immediately the light illuminated the room, and Charley instead began to absorb the sights in front of her. The bedding she’d seen on the live-feed footage, along with the position of the furniture, confirmed to her that there was no doubt that this was the room in which the filming had taken place, but where was the girl?

  A shout from PC Helen Weir outside could be heard clearly inside. ‘The window is insecure.’ Her response to the find only brought more questions to mind.

  ‘We need to get any CCTV available to us from the immediate area,’ she said, lifting her gaze to Mike, knowing there was more to come. ‘I want this room sealing as a crime scene.’

  In the small security office with Annie and Mike, Charley stood next to Terrier, the security officer with halitosis. It was warm, and a tight squeeze for the three of them. She felt a little claustrophobic and nauseous, and all she could hear was the air the security officer forced from his lungs as they surveyed the CCTV images.

  ‘I’m glad I fixed that,’ Terrier said proudly.

  The only other sound was from the TV in the reception hall.

  At the sight of a hooded male that could be seen near block F at 11.36 Annie instantly recalled the incident not so long ago again, when a hooded male had run out of the university and into the path of her car. She was still embarrassed to know that her outburst had been heard by Charley back at the nick. ‘I only just missed him, the fucking dickhead,’ she’d said, sitting down in the office, and with trembling hands demanding a stiff drink.

  The hooded man on the CCTV was wearing a luminous yellow waistcoat this time, and reflective strips, moving slowly, as if the wheelie bin he was pushing contained something heavy, they watched with bated breath as he pushed it away from the accommodation block, and out of sight.

  ‘He’s wearing gloves,’ Annie mumbled.

  ‘Don’t all bin men?’ questioned Mike.

  ‘Shhh… Watch…’ Charley waited patiently for a moment or two.

  ‘What?’ Mike asked.

  Charley turned to see Mike looking puzzled. ‘This bin man doesn’t come back for any of the other bins. That’s pretty telling don’t you think? Play it again…’

  * * *

  Darkness threatened to fall early, and there looked to be a distinct possibility of a shower from the black, fast-moving clouds, which swept above the large number of officers who were gathered, awaiting the next instruction. The body dog had been requested, but Charley was told that it was an hour away, and every minute counted if they hoped to find Cath alive. Charley couldn’t, and wouldn’t, wait.

  Neal Rylatt and his CSI team were busy working at Cath Crowther’s flat. At the outside entrance of the complex Charley told Neal, ‘I want evidence,’ in a voice that sounded desperate to his ears, in a tone he was used to from an SIO seeking a victim, or a perpetrator.

  Turning on her heels she rang Wilkie Connor at the Incident Room with further instructions regarding Cath Crowther’s background checks. ‘Boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend? Family? Places she went regularly where she might have caught the murderer’s eye?’

  Suddenly, a magpie landed at her feet. Whether it was the shock, or her brain trying to contemplate the large bird stood staring at her, she felt unnerved by the sudden presence of a bird wreathed in superstition and legend. The old rhyme her Granny used to sing her ran round her head. ‘One for sorrow…’ She took a deep breath. She had to focus.

  Mike crept up on her, and the bird flew off, its big strong wings flapping noisily as it left. All of a sudden she started shaking, and a dark shadow started to fall across her eyes. She lowered her head hoping to stave off a faint, because then she would be good to no one.

  ‘I’ve instructed Wilkie to find out Cath’s mobile number, her service provider. We could do with knowing whether it is switched on, when it was used, and where.’

  She nodded in agreement, put her arm through Mike’s and leaned heavily on him as they walked towards Annie at the recycling site. He turned to Charley, once or twice, and a glimmer of understanding flitted across his face. No one had had anything to eat or drink since work began.

  ‘I understand that her parents don’t live in West Yorkshire. Will you contact the nearest police station to despatch an officer, to request that they find out when they last had contact with their daughter.’

  On reaching Annie, Charley let go of Mike’s arm. ‘Tell them, to reassure them, that everything that can be done is being done to find her.’

  Annie was staring at the vast amount of green bins at the university’s recycling site, and she despaired at the enormity of the task. Turning to Charley her face was crestfallen. ‘Where do we start, they all look the same, and we don’t even know if THE bin is still on campus.’

  ‘We don’t, but if there is a possibility that she’s still alive, we have to search every one of them to be sure and quickly at that.’

  Annie looked at her questioningly. ‘You really think she’s in one of those bins?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Charley. ‘However we can’t assume that she isn’t, and my gut fee
ling is that it’s a distinct possibility.’

  Ricky-Lee appeared around the corner of the building. ‘I’ve good news Mr St Hilaire, the head of facilities at VAFY, told me that the bins have coloured stickers which correspond to the colours of the accommodation blocks, by the same coloured stickers on the lids.’

  Charley looked up to the sky and said a silent ‘thank you’. In her experience perpetrators trying to avoid capture, or sometimes for the thrill of notoriety of their crime, watch the police activity. Barely moving her lips in case she had a zoom camera pointed in her direction, she reminded Annie to be careful.

  Annie followed her gaze. There was nothing the detective could do until everyone was in place as instructed. ‘What’re you looking up for?’ she asked.

  ‘I saw one magpie, and you know what Granny would have said. “Hello, Jack – how’s your brother?”’

  Annie shuddered as she crossed herself.

  ‘“Devil, Devil, I defy thee!” I was schooled by nuns,’ she said, just as the cry went up and the lifting of the lids began.

  Charley saw the detached professionalism of the crime-scene technicians before her, as if seeing the scene from a movie. They performed their duties quickly, methodically and with urgency, and her heart was in her mouth, that was until she saw the hand of the search team shoot up in the air.

  The starlings sitting on the telephone wires above chose that moment to take flight, and flew high and beyond the university buildings.

  A glimmer of shock flitted across the tall, suited and booted officer approximately ten metres away from her. ‘This lid, it’s firmly shut, boss,’ he shouted. The anticipation in his voice was tangible.

  But the two inquisitive magpies on the roof didn’t bat an eyelid. One for sorry two for joy…

  Chapter 17

  Despite being conscious of the necessity to limit the contamination of a possible crime scene, preservation of a life took priority.

  Charley was surprised to hear that the wheelie-bin lid was sealed with some kind of adhesive. The SIO requested silence.