Bobbie held up the palm of his hand to her. ‘Alright, I get the picture.’
The picture in her head was one of the hierarchy sat on their nine-to-five backsides, in the ivory tower, making decisions about things they knew nothing about because they had not walked the walk, or talked the talk in CID.
‘I ask you one question, and you ask whoever is breathing down your neck. Who is the person in charge of the investigation?’ She stood and raised an eyebrow at Stokes waiting for a reply. ‘I will not allow myself to be shackled in any way,’ she said before walking out of his office.
‘At the morning briefing, Charley was told that the bed space at Huddersfield General Hospital remained at a premium, and the hospital medics had deemed Cath Crowther fit to be interviewed and, to the SIO’s surprise, to leave, once necessary arrangements had been made for her welfare and safety.
Doctor Davidson, her GP, differed in his opinion, but he was told that there was nothing the medical profession could do for her at the hospital that would further benefit her, or warrant her taking up a bed in the already overcrowded general ward.
The hospital staff suggested that Cath write down her responses to the questions put to her. Talking required quite a lot of effort by the brave young woman, who could barely be heard.
Charley picked up the phone and spoke to her doctor. ‘Once the bruising and swelling goes down I expect her vocal cords to return to normal, however that won’t happen in the next few days,’ he said.
‘How does she feel about being discharged?’ asked Charley.
‘I should imagine she is anxious and scared.’
‘I’m not surprised. Now the details of her abduction have been given to the media, I would expect that the information about her recovery will be in the public domain quite quickly, and her attacker will then be aware that she hasn’t died, which we’re sure was his intention.’
‘I will be advising that she gets counselling,’ he told Charley. ‘Although, I am hoping she will take my advice and go home to stay with her parents a hundred miles away, to recuperate for a while.’
Specialist officers (STOs) who were trained in interviewing survivors of such attacks were called upon to speak to Cath, and Charley spent time with them to work out the interview strategy.
Then at noon, when sitting down with the others to eat, she turned her attention to a list of workers and maintenance people, past and present, that Wilkie Connor passed over the table to her: a database of over a hundred names. She knew by Wilkie’s face that the task was a logistical mountain to climb, hampered by Tattie’s collation of the budget for this, which was likely to be costly.
With the Divisional Commander’s words of warning still ringing in her ears, Charley spoke her thoughts out loud.
‘Could we narrow this down? Younger men? Those capable of scaling a drainpipe? Those with a connection to the victim?’
‘We can discount women, although they are only a small percentage of this workforce,’ Mike said almost apologetically.
Charley nodded her head exaggeratedly in appreciation of his input.
‘How about we prioritise those presently on site?’ added Annie. ‘It’s more likely that the perpetrator is someone currently working at the university, or having access to the facilities now.’
‘I agree,’ said Charley, ‘then we can move on to recently left personnel if we have no joy. DNA will of course be requested during their questioning, whether or not they admit to knowing Cath Crowther.’
‘The elimination factor being ultimately the DNA profile, and therefore mass screening, where possible, to be a way forwards?’ Mike asked.
‘Yes, and if we have to, we test every bloody man on campus,’ she said more bloody-mindededly.
Wilkie smirked, and Charley’s instincts were raw.
‘I agree, it won’t be an easy operation,’ she conceded, ‘but, I won’t give up until he’s found.’
‘What next?’ asked Annie.
Wilkie put his head in his hands. ‘Make us a strong coffee,’ he said.
‘I’m going to liaise with Forensics, Eira sent a message to say that she can now confirm that the adhesive used on Cath’s would-be coffin is the same as the discarded tube found in the bin,’ Charley said, sounding more upbeat. She stood up and put the remains of her lunch in the bin before heading back to her office.
The two detectives exchanged glances.
Annie eased herself up from her chair, and stretched her back. ‘You know what the boss is like when she gets the bit between her teeth,’ she said to Wilkie, as she headed for the kitchen. ‘Best, crack on.’
* * *
Charley’s priority was to seek possible evidence available to her from the two adhesive exhibits. ‘Where did they come from, and who bought them?’ she said to the team later that afternoon.
Annie scrutinised the pictures of the exhibits. ‘It’s just occurred to me,’ she said. ‘The bastard might have taken time to seal the lid to stop people looking inside, but he didn’t put enough on to stop the weight of her body sliding out when the bin was tipped upside down in the bin wagon.’ Annie shuddered. Her eyes were wide in astonishment. ‘She could have disappeared forever, couldn’t she?’
‘Quite easily,’ said Charley.
‘I wondered why he moved her from the flat?’ said Ricky-Lee.
‘Because a dead body would have brought police in numbers on to the campus which he didn’t want, as it would have disrupted his predatory pattern,’ said Charley.
Annie looked up. ‘You think he has more planned?’
Charley raised her eyebrows, about to reply, when her phone rang. Expecting an update from Eira she rushed into the office, and in her haste almost knocked the receiver off its cradle.
‘We’ve discovered a stain on Cath’s bedsheet, which has been identified as semen, and we are processing it to obtain a DNA profile. Could your officers ask Ms Crowther if she has had any male friends staying over recently? If not we have a possible DNA profile for her attacker, which in turn will give us something positive to eliminate suspects, and once a profile has been obtained, we will automatically check it against the national database to see if the person has been previously recorded. If so, you’ll have a name for the would-be killer very soon.’
The prospect made Charley’s heart skip a beat. She rejoined the team.
‘Some positive news. Forensics have been able to extract DNA from a semen stain on the victim’s bed sheets.’
Annie thought about what she had said and grinned suddenly.
Cath said, ‘we can’t let ourselves get too excited. He might not be in the system. The stain could be from a boyfriend. As yet we still don’t know who the predator is, or when he will strike again.’ Charley looked at Annie and answered her earlier question. ‘Because, yes, I do think he has more planned. This is not over.’
The next phase in the investigation was soon underway. Enquiries were prioritised at local stores that were known to stock the same adhesive as the perpetrator had used. More importantly, was there a way of finding out who had bought the adhesive, and when, or was that too much to ask? Meanwhile, at the campus gym, officers requested and obtained a list of members, and likely suspects.
In preparation for the debrief, Charley read through the information available to her for the actions completed that day, including the consensus of those who had come forward and who were willing to make a statement in the hope it may be helpful.
The SIO picked up the map that had been used to establish the static covert observation points to be used from external and internal vantage points on campus, to be covered after Tuesday night’s class. The big question now being, would the offender turn up. If so, Charley was confident that they had covered all opportunities available to catch him.
The intended attached pro forma for the users of the gym was ready for her to sign off. With an animal’s cunning, the questions were intended for replies that would alert the team to any scrap of information the atten
dees could possibly give them. However, the wording of the questions was fanciful, and not direct.
How often do you visit the gym?
Is it the same night every week?
Do you visit the gym on your own?
Are you a student at the university?
If so, do you live on the campus.
Charley scribbled on the form. ‘Make it simple!’ she wrote.
Have you been approached or been followed by anyone, coming to or from the class?
Has anyone been in your room uninvited?
Have you ever been followed by anyone?
Do you have any idea as to whom the predator might be?
She put her pen down, and rested her head in her hands. It was a waiting game. The trouble was, Charley wasn’t in a patient mood, but she knew that only time would tell them whether the perpetrator would walk into the trap they had prepared for him. A thought brought a smile to her face. If he did, there was no doubt that they would shock him to the core, in the same way as he had shocked his victims.
* * *
On Tuesday, Charley remained in the control room, looking at the CCTV screens. Unable to keep still, she paced the floor, willing the would-be killer to come into sight, and listening closely for any messages that came over the airwaves, on the dedicated channel, sent by the officers at the strategic observation points. Although the adrenaline was pumping around her body she felt wan, and increasingly anxious to be able to give Cath some positive news.
The officers had been instructed to maintain radio silence until such time that they had anything to report, and presently the airwaves were silent.
Everyone had been in place for an hour before the aerobics class was started. Two officers at each point to ensure their safety and the safety of the people on campus. Each officer had been provided with a police baseball cap to immediately identify themselves as police officers. The officers were instructed to remain in place until a target was apprehended, or they were otherwise stood down.
A downside to their plan was that the turbulent weather was unforgiving, and the rain fell in torrents. Tattie had worked a split shift to enable her to go home and feed the cat. Her frizzy hair was still dripping when she entered the room and passed Charley an update from the officers speaking to Cath. ‘She’s adamant that no male friends had been in her room,’ she said with a little nod and a knowing look. The office manager waited for a few moments whilst Charley absorbed the information.
Thoughts raced through Charley’s head. Had Cath’s attacker slipped up already, as Eira had suggested? What this confirmed to Charley was that, apart from his being a control freak, he had become sexually excited before, during or after his attempt on her life, and that scared the hell out of the SIO.
‘Can you pass this information on to Forensic so that they’re aware,’ she said.
As Charley turned her focus back to the screens, her spirits were lifted to see all officers in the positions agreed, which allowed them to determine immediately when a suspect or someone acting suspiciously was spotted. The principle of an outside stake-out location, was to allow the arrest to take place in the grounds and not in the gym, and it reduced the likelihood of hostages being taken. This operation was costly but the analysis provided a strong indication that the gym class was an extremely likely location to arrest their perpetrator. Was this the break she had been waiting for?
The eagerness of all concerned was not matched by luck. The keen eyes of the observers missed nothing, but the suspect was a no-show, and the team were stood down. Some faces were downcast, making their disappointment clear. These officers had families themselves. However, all was not lost as enquires were made of those in attendance at the class.
A debrief awaited them back at the station.
Charley began upbeat. ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained. We will repeat tonight’s approach for the next few weeks, on the off-chance that our man returns to his previous, possible hunting ground.’ She thanked everyone involved for their efforts and ended the meeting. ‘Remember, tomorrow is another day.’
In their role as Specially Trained Officers (STO’s) Mike and Annie met with Cath for the first time, in hospital the next morning. The officers introduced themselves. Cath’s mum and dad were sat at her beside. Her mother’s face was wet with tears, her dad’s contorted with anguish.
At their daughter’s request to speak to the officers alone, Mrs Crowther stood and leant over the hospital bed. Her face softened in a motherly way before she carefully planted a butterfly kiss on her daughter’s forehead; mindful of her bruising.
Mr Crowther followed his wife to the door where he put his hand on her shoulder. Together they turned. ‘We will be in the canteen if you should need us,’ he said, softly.
When Cath was sure that her parents had gone, her face crumpled. ‘I wish I could take away their pain,’ she sobbed.
Her voice was hoarse when she calmed a little, her muscles shaky. ‘I told them I’m okay. I’m alive aren’t I?’
Cath put a hand to her face, closed her eyes and breathed in deeply just as her throat closed and tears threatened again. The ache in her gut intensified until warm tears squeeze out from her eyelids and burned her eyes.
Annie reached out to comfort her. It seemed that the detective’s closeness worked its magic to calm Cath’s breathing though and she appeared to relax. Sniffing, Cath opened her eyes and wiped the wetness from her cheeks.
Strands of hair fell from her loose knot on the top of her head.
‘Mum says that my hair smells weird. I told her that it’s the shampoo that the hospital have given me to wash it with,’ she said. Her eyes wandered to the striped, fleece pyjamas that her parents had bought for her, and she tugged with pinched fingers, at the bottoms. ‘I made a joke about them, they’re not really my style. Little do they know that beneath them, I have scratches, fingernail impressions in my skin, bandages and plasters. My vagina is sore, no doubt with all the prodding… And, I can’t get rid of the feeling of emptiness… I’m so afraid.’ Tears poured in earnest.
Sat in the chairs that Mr and Mrs Crowther had vacated, Mike and Annie listened silent, compassionate and reassuring. The room was south facing. It was warm and humid, but the officers could understand her reluctance to open the window that looked out onto the dense woodland, in the hospital grounds that could hide another intruder.
Annie noted that Cath was curling her toes under the bedcovers. It was obvious she was in pain. She was nervous, irritated, angry. Who could blame her?
‘We understand that you may not be able to answer all our questions,’ said Mike, softly. ‘However, the more you can tell us, the better our chance of identifying the suspect.’
Annie continued to speak in the same vein. ‘If you’re comfortable with talking about what happened we have some questions to ask you. What happened? Where did it happen? When did it happen? Who did this to you?’
The detective saw the look of being overwhelmed in the girl’s eyes and she understood. ‘How about we start with you telling us what happened, shall we?’ Annie said.
Cath took a sip of water. A tired smile tugged at her lips. ‘I’ll do my best,’ she replied, in a rasping voice. She coughed and swallowed hard before she continued.
‘My first thought when I woke up to find a naked stranger sat at the bottom of my bed was that I was going to be raped. I sat up and was about to scream when he reached out, grabbed me by the throat and with one powerful thrust, threw me back into my pillows before filling my mouth with a light, nylon material that gagged me. At that point I thought that I was going to die. I could hardly breathe and I couldn’t scream, although I tried.’ Cath reached for a glass of water on her bedside table and took a sip. When she replaced it she accidentally knocked her bruised wrist and winced. She paused.
Annie winced too, ready to soothe her, but Cath talked through her pain.
‘I recall how swiftly he tied my hands, and covered my head, with rough, sacking material. It sm
elt strongly of cheap washing-up liquid. Two powerful hands then clasped my neck…’ she swallowed hard. ‘…to choke me.’ Cath took a gasp of breath which made her cough. ‘I couldn’t breathe,’ she gasped. The memory of how she felt at the time was as raw as her visible wounds.
Annie found it hard to hide her shock when Cath uncovered her severely bruised neck, which looked like a tight, dark, mottled scarf.
‘Being strangled was the last thing I remember before becoming unconscious,’ she said.
‘And, when you came round in the hospital…’ asked Annie tentatively.
Cath’s voice was becoming barely audible. She was obviously finding it increasingly difficult to speak. Bravely she pushed on.
‘I felt terrified, and in severe pain. I was told that I had been found in a wheelie bin, potentially penetrated sexually by a stranger, and that I should get retested for HIV, because results didn’t always show up immediately. I was also told that I will be discharged as soon as possible, so that I can get back to my normal life.’ Cath leaned forwards and looked down at Annie’s bag that lay at the side of her chair. ‘Have you brought my knickers and pyjama bottoms that I was wearing? They told me when they took them that I was only allowed to keep my necklace.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Annie. ‘I’m afraid that we will have to keep them for a while yet…’
Cath looked annoyed with herself. ‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘What was I thinking?’
‘Were you aware that you were filmed, or that the footage was shared on social media?’ asked Mike.
Cath shook her head.
‘You describe your assailant as a stranger. Do you think that you would be able to identify him again?’
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