She nodded as emphatically as her wounds would allow. ‘His face, those staring eyes, as black and as hard as granite, will be imprinted on my mind for the rest of my life,’ she said in a whisper.
Cath’s eyes caught the movement in the corridor outside. Through the window they could see that Mr and Mrs Crowther had returned. With a little forced smile and a wave to her daughter Mrs Crowther sat down outside, to wait. Seeing his daughter’s pale, puffy face, and red eyes, Mr Crowther tapped at the door.
‘I think she might have had enough for today, don’t you?’ he said.
‘Yes, you’re right,’ said Mike closing his notepad. The detective sergeant found Cath’s eyes. ‘We’ll come back later, if that’s okay with you?’
‘Or maybe we will see you at home,’ said Annie. ‘If your discharge is imminent.’
* * *
In the office Charley read Cath’s statement which was enlightening, and much of what she read was not surprising, considering the perpetrator’s escalating behaviour.
Tomorrow the specialist officers would be returning for another chat, in the hope that she had remembered more, and again they would make notes of what she was saying to them, which ultimately would be put into a written statement for a future prosecution file.
Despite there being no physical evidence connecting the two crimes, Charley couldn’t shake the feeling that this predator had already escalated to murder, and that his victim had been Cordelia Le Beau. The MO was different, and the crime scenes were nothing alike, but the hatred of women was the same – the way both women had been stripped of their clothes and their bodies dealt with in such a dehumanising way…
Cath’s description of the attacker was telling, and fit their suspect perfectly:
White male
Approx twenty years of age
Fair hair
Clean shaven
Physically fit
He didn’t speak
The description, also identical to that given by Dani Miller, showed Charley how lucky Dani had been. She had screamed. Had that saved her life? Had the perpetrator learnt from that night that he must silence his next victim, which was why he grabbed Cath by the throat quickly, to stop her from screaming?
Eira’s call just before lunchtime was not what Charley wanted to hear, but what the SIO had expected.
Once again, there was no hit on the national database linking the sample of DNA taken from the bedsheet.
‘It appears that her attacker has no previous criminal record,’ said Eira.
‘That doesn’t make him any less dangerous, does it? It just means that he is going to be harder to find.’
‘Being invisible to us brings about confidence, but that said, it might make him less careful. He’ll slip up, you mark my words,’ said Eira. ‘They always do.’
‘He isn’t about to stop until such time as he’s caught though is he?’ replied Charley.
‘Hey, come on, that’s not like you. Good job I’ve got some positive news for you isn’t it?’ she said.
‘What is it?’ Charley asked eagerly. ‘Come on Eira, spill the beans!’
Chapter 21
Charley could hardly disguise the joy in her voice when she told her team that the crime stain discovered on Cath Crowther’s bedding had now been examined, and identified as semen. Further examination gave them a DNA profile.
‘That said, there is no match on the national database. The attacker is not recorded. Whilst it’s disappointing,’ she paused before delivering the next piece of news, because she hadn’t yet processed the implications of what she had been told by Eira, ‘the DNA is an exact match to another unidentified sample found on the stone from Cordelia Le Beau’s murder scene, which we know had been dropped on her head by her killer. We now know that the attacker for both crimes is the same person, and we have the ability to positively eliminate suspects.’
Annie listened intently, her eyebrows furrowed with concentration. Her face brightened at the news, and her eyes found Charley’s. ‘That really does link the crime scenes,’ she said.
Charley nodded in her direction. ‘On the balance of probabilities, I think it is beyond reasonable doubt that our would-be killer in this case has killed before. We saw with our own eyes that both incapacitated victims were found with their underwear around the ankles, leaving them semi-naked.’
‘This is a specific sexual act in itself, which proves to me he has a calm trait of controlling behaviour in his character, which makes him need to display the bodies in this way,’ said Mike.
Charley stood up and stepped to the side of the chalkboard, where she pointed to the description of the perpetrator, the link to his DNA profile, and the pictures of the victims who swore they could identify their attacker, before she continued. ‘We know what he looks like. We know his preferred hunting ground. We have his DNA and we have witnesses who can identify our attacker. Whilst we have all this evidence, what we still don’t have is him. He is likely to strike again. We need to apprehend him before he does.’
Turning on her heel she scanned the faces of those assembled. ‘Who is he? Where is he?’ she continued. ‘Our elimination processes must be swift now we have the DNA profile, and carried out on a daily basis. No matter what it takes, we cannot allow this evil, sadistic perpetrator to attack and kill again,’ she said, emotionally. Charley turned to Mike. ‘Get photographs of the university staff fitting the basic description to show our victims to see if they are able to identify the killer for us.’ She looked back to the team. ‘Anything come out of the results for the questionnaire? Do we know if Cordelia was ever on campus? If not, how did she cross paths with her attacker?’
With nothing fruitful gained from the questionnaire, and no link to the university and Cordelia Le Beau, the frustration of her unsolved murder enquiry, coupled with the attempted murder of Cath Crowther, and the incidents involving Dani Miller and the others, was getting to them all.
The hunt so far had been relentless, and would continue to be so, the difference now being that they had substantial evidence.
The positive news she had shared from Eira, was the only good news of the day, however. After a meeting at HQ attended by Chief Superintendent Bobbie Stokes, and other divisional commanders, Stokes called her up to his office.
‘As you are aware, Charley,’ he said, ‘police resources are under continuing constraint like never before, and I’ve been asked to speak to you in relation to the procedure for returning the officers drafted onto your enquiry team from other divisions.’
‘They want them back now? It’s not happening, we’ve had a positive breakthrough today, and to make that count I need all the resources I have,’ she said.
He nodded. ‘If…’
‘Not if; when I’m in a position to start releasing staff, then I’ll do so.’
‘…Or when, let me finish, new leads are established, or something conclusive turns up, such as you have him in custody or named, then we will have further conversations about staffing.’
Charley opened her mouth as if to protest, but Stokes held up his hand. ‘My decision is final,’ he said. ‘You’ve probably got two, three weeks at the most before the next commanders’ meeting.’ The SIO knew, by the look on his face and his manner, that arguing with the head of the division would be a waste of both her time, and his.
Reluctantly, Stokes agreed that PCs Helen Weir and Lisa Bayliss could remain, ‘If their inspectors are agreeable, and I will speak to them on your behalf, and that would be only until they are required back on their own rotas. It’s the best I can do.’
* * *
As the days passed, tempers flared with little provocation needed. Accusations against members of the team, however small, were capable of escalating into personal rows. Trying to keep the team focused and motivated amongst such strong, determined, frustrated individuals was a daily battle for supervision, and Charley made a concentrated effort to maintain an outward show of unity and support, offering assurance when neede
d.
Cath Crowther was far less able to cope now, knowing the full facts of what had taken place. At one point, her feelings of anxiety rose to such a high level that she talked of suicide to her counsellor, who was sufficiently worried about her state of mind and safety to speak to Charley. In the end the young woman managed to find the strength to refuse to allow her attacker another victory by giving up her studies that she’d diligently worked at for over a year, and that had cost her dearly owing to personal sacrifices.
The usually outgoing, friendly young woman had disappeared, her concerned family and friends told the family liaison officers. Cath had become withdrawn, all her trust gone. Every male was a suspect to her. She slept briefly, and then only with the help of medication prescribed by Doctor Davidson.
Returning to her room on campus to complete her studies and achieving good grades despite her ordeal, was her main focus, but not what her parents wanted to hear so soon. Neither was it a decision that Charley agreed with, although she understood her reasoning that she couldn’t let her attacker define her future.
Her parents begged the family liaison officer to get Charley to intervene, and persuade her to stay with them. However, there was no shifting Cath, and all Charley could do was make sure that the university was aware of her decision and offered the student support. Liaising with security, Charley suggested that they ensured the CCTV was fit for purpose, and she had locks on her windows. She spoke to the divisional crime prevention team to install a panic alarm in Cath’s room, and made her promise that when she left her room that she did so in the company of a friend, or a fellow student. She wanted Cath to be confident that her attacker would not return, knowing he was still out there. They were, in truth, no nearer to finding him than they were on the days following the attempted murder. Even Charley had doubts that crossed her mind with increasing frequency, as it seemed that her cunning attacker was still able to evade capture.
Finally, the hoax calls, and others into the Incident Room started to dry up. It appeared to Charley that the public had accepted that he would not be found anytime soon, so had probably lost interest. The media also thinned out. They had nothing to feed on. The victims’ faces no longer appeared on the front pages of the newspapers, not even the local press. Full-page reports about the crime became thumbnail pictures, with brief updates that Connie Seabourne, the police press officer, negotiated to try to keep the enquiry in the news, but even her efforts were wearing thin.
It seemed that the general public was learning to live with a murderer in their midst. It was a fact that women constituted the majority of persons at risk of harm by Cath’s offender and they had informed officers of many ingenious ways which they had thought of to try to protect themselves. Which wasn’t surprising as they felt increasingly vulnerable walking the streets.
However, Charley was aware, these attacks on young women weren’t random.
As far as they knew he hadn’t raped, or attempted to rape, his victims, but now they had the evidence that proved he had become sexually excited during the attacks, to the point of ejaculation. Was this because he knew how valuable a DNA profile was to the police, or was he inadequate, or simply unable to control himself?
The investigation continued to prioritise males who came into the investigation by one way or another; connected or not, they were subjected to a simple mouth swab test for comparison against the offender’s DNA. The suspect database grew and grew, however, with samples going to the lab in batches of thirty, the innocent were quickly eliminated.
Enquiries had taken Ricky-Lee to Brook’s DIY store, where it was confirmed that the adhesive and applicator gun used to seal the wheelie bin had been purchased, and the information he received that afternoon added weight to the evidence already accrued, and supplied further leads to investigate.
‘The bar code tells me that the products were bought a week prior to the attack,’ said the manager.
Charley’s relief at Ricky-Lee’s update was heightened by more pieces of information which the clerk at the small business retrieved from his ancient computer system, and this confirmed that the latest attack had been well planned.
‘On the downside, they don’t have CCTV, and the counter staff can’t remember any particular person buying the products, which are often bought together.’
‘Can they tell us if the buyer of the products paid cash, or did they use a credit card?’ asked Charley.
‘Cash.’
Charley’s face instantly lit up at the thought of fingerprint retrieval, to become downcast a moment later.
‘But the takings are banked on a weekly basis,’ said Ricky-Lee.
Charley thought hard for a moment before relaying her next instruction. ‘Seize any CCTV that concentrates on the street. With a transaction able to tell us a date when the products were bought, and presumably a time, there could be an opportunity to see the buyer leaving the store with the items. Whilst looking through CCTV footage is labour intensive, it may well prove invaluable to us in an attempt to identify a suspect.’
It was late afternoon, and Charley needed to liaise further with the Crown Prosecution Service before they went home.
Locating the information for the Cordelia Le Beau murder enquiry from her computer, she searched the screen for the information she required. She began to read. The pathologist’s report told her what she already knew, that the cause of her death was the stone being dropped on her head, and until that occurred, although she was seriously injured, she had been alive. Mr Butterworth also said when it was likely when this was done. ‘Did the killer make absolutely sure she was dead by this macabre act, or was the killer another person who came upon her injured body?’ Charley considered.
Charley knew that Maddox and crew had been at the scene. They had admitted it in interview, and Maddox and Green’s DNA profiles were not a match for DNA recovered from the skin on the stone. However Charley felt that they should still face charges of assault, after all the evidence suggested they had stamped on her whilst she had been lying on the ground, not simply walked over her, as they would have had the interviewing officers believe.
In respect of Tricia Carmichael and Pam Wilkinson, it was likely they wouldn’t be processed with regards to the alleged assault. There was no evidence to suggest that, although they had been present, they had been involved in the assault, or encouraged their friends to do what they had done. If they had been, she would have had no hesitation in charging all four.
‘We’d like a typed file prepared against all parties,’ said Jacki Stanley, who picked up the phone when Charley rang CPS. ‘After we receive it, a decision will be made. When we’ve read all the evidence we will decide if it is in the public interest to proceed, and against whom.’
‘It’s cut and dried, surely,’ said Charley. ‘I’ve got a killer to catch, and I don’t want any unnecessary distractions.’
When they were running on full power, the days seemed to roll into one.
Charley ensured that liaison was being maintained with Forensic on a regular basis, to ensure the stream of sample submissions was proceeding smoothly, and, from speaking to Eira, she knew that they were working equally as hard on the examination and testing, and the major incident remained a priority for them.
When Charley returned home that night, she kicked her shoes off at the door, but instead of going straight upstairs to get changed out of her working clothes, she walked straight down the hallway and into the kitchen. She shivered, switched the thermostat to the ‘ON’ position and did the same with the kettle. She sighed deeply as she sat down on the sofa sipping the cup of tea, grateful for the warmth of the mug whilst the heating kicked in. She placed her mug on the coffee table and was just about to peel the tin foil from her Kit-Kat chocolate biscuit, when her mobile phone rang. Instinctively, she jumped from the chair to answer it. It was the inspector in the control room informing her about an incident that had occurred on the A62 Manchester Road, not far from the village of Slaithwaite where
Annie lived. A girl had run straight out into the road from the school, and had been struck by a passing vehicle. The suggestion was that the driver had no opportunity to avoid her. Fortunately she wasn’t seriously hurt, but she was being taken to hospital, to be treated for minor injuries and shock. Her parents had been informed.
Charley was puzzled. ‘Why have you called me?’
‘The girl was partially clothed, and told the emergency team at the scene that she was being chased by a man,’ he said.
‘Where was she running from?’ Charley asked.
‘Shrugs Park, where a man had suddenly appeared from inside a dark coppice, grabbed hold of her and dragged her towards nearby bushes. Fortunately she managed to break free when she scratched his face, and he loosened his grip.’
‘Despatch CID to the scene, CSI to take nail scrapings, and STOs to liaise with family, and the victim at the hospital, if she’s in any fit state to talk to us. I’m on my way.’
The small local park was cordoned off with police tape, and a search had begun to see if they could ascertain the exact location where the teenager had been grabbed. A sniffer dog and handler joined the small team, to help in the recovery of discarded clothing, before it got dark.
Miriam James was fifteen years of age. The bewilderment on her swollen face said it all. Her attacker had punched her, but the shock, and subsequent chase, enabled her to give the officers a good description of him; white male, athletic build, light-coloured hair, and clean-shaven.
Could this be the same person that Charley and her team were seeking? The person who had killed one woman, and attempted to kill another. The only time she would know that for sure, would be when the suspect was in the net. What it did tell her about him, if it was him, was that he was relentless and ruthless.
‘First thoughts, boss,’ said Ricky-Lee, who joined her at the scene.
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