by A. J. Cross
Watts stared at him. This was too close to his own worst thinking. Something he didn’t want to hear, let alone consider. ‘You’re saying there could be more victims?’
‘A possibility to be aware of, is what I’m saying.’
Watts turned to Adam. ‘When do you think you’ll be ready to examine that whole incline?’
Adam looked at it. ‘Given the finding of the skull, we need to be ultra-careful to avoid destroying any further evidence if it’s there. When that’s done it’s going to be a case of systematic search and excavation.’ He turned to Watts. ‘I can’t give a time estimate because of the heat my officers are working in.’
Watts’ eyes were fixed on the ground, the sun searing his own head. He looked up at Traynor. ‘We are agreed that a lack of evidence of sexual behaviour so far for the Roberts homicide isn’t significant in terms of a sexual motive?’
‘It isn’t significant, given other indicators we have, such as place, time and what was done to her.’
Traynor tapped the screen. ‘I’ve just sent you a copy of the main points of what I’ve said. Would a short, verbal summary help?’
‘Go on.’
‘Intelligent, largely organized killer, socially adept on first contact, self-controlled during homicidal activity. A planner. If he lacks a victim preference, he’s highly dangerous.’
‘Which means what, exactly, for this investigation?’
‘If there is no victim preference and he’s attacking at random, you need to issue a public warning that he’s operating in this area of the city. I’d go so far as to say a warning should be given, regardless.’
Watts stared at him. ‘And risk panic and all sorts of idiots coming out of the woodwork to confess or claim they know who he is, naming an ex-partner or relative they’ve got a gripe against and us spending valuable investigative hours we can’t spare, checking them out and wasting time?’ He took a breath. Traynor’s cool delivery was getting to him. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’
Traynor flipped the iPad cover. ‘Advising. I see your difficulty.’
Watts took more deep breaths. ‘We’ve got your overall take on this killer, which more or less fits with what I’ve been thinking. My priority now is getting information from people who knew Roberts and Barlow well. Random homicide is my least preferred option. If there’s the slightest link between Roberts and Barlow, I want it. It might tell us something about their killer, the sorts of places he hangs out, where he first saw them. We’ve talked to Roberts’ immediate family. They’re knocked sideways by what’s happened and don’t seem to have anything to offer us in terms of a suspect, although I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re wondering on the quiet if the son-in-law, Christian Roberts, was somehow involved. What do you say, Judd?’
She nodded. ‘Agreed.’
He gazed across the open space ahead of them. ‘He’s not been in touch with them or us since the news of Zoe Roberts’ murder broke, which in my book is bloody odd.’
Traynor sent him a cool look. ‘Christian Roberts is relevant because of his relationship with one of the victims. We need to maintain a focus on both. I’m sure we can agree that the key investigative questions right now are where, how and why their killer selected them.’
Watts nodded agreement. Recalling the route he’d walked late the previous evening from the compound to the high ground nearby, he looked to Adam and pointed. ‘I got your text about sending a couple of officers up there to examine that area. Any progress?’
‘Let’s ask.’
Traynor remained where he was as Watts and Judd followed Adam. Judd moved closer to Watts, her voice low. ‘Now we’ve heard Dr Traynor’s ideas, what do you think of him?’ She didn’t wait for a response. ‘We had some criminology lectures during training. He knows his stuff, Sarge. Everything he’s just told us sounds like good analysis and—’
‘Judd.’
‘Sarge?’
‘Put a lid on it.’ They continued on, Traynor now following, to where forensic officers were kneeling on the ground. Watts pointed out the compound to him. ‘See that? I think it’s very possible that Roberts’ killer approached this area from the motorway, drove up that access road, parked his vehicle down there, came up here on foot, carried on to Blackfoot Trail where he killed Roberts then left by the same route.’
One of the forensic officers looked up. ‘Adam? Take a look at this.’ They went to him. He pointed at three hard-baked, sharply defined shoeprints among sparse vegetation. ‘I’m about to take impressions.’ They watched him position rectangles of robust card around each print, reach inside a box and take out a plastic bag, two-thirds filled with thick white powder, a layer of clear liquid above it. Kneading it for several seconds, he opened it and carefully poured its contents on to each print. They watched them disappear under a thick layer of white. He glanced at his watch. ‘I’ll leave it to harden off then lift the casts and take them back to headquarters for matching. They look like trainer prints to me, which means we’re in luck as far as identification goes. The downside is who doesn’t wear trainers?’
‘Me,’ snapped Watts. ‘Anybody remember when it last rained here?’
Traynor consulted his iPad. ‘Five twelve a.m. on the day of the Roberts’ homicide. A short, heavy downpour. The only rain in the last five weeks.’ He looked at the sloping ground. ‘From that compound to here might be driveable.’
Judd gave Watts a bright-eyed look, her nose pink, starting to peel. ‘Those footprints. It’s him, Sarge. He came up here, like you said, then went to the trail to lie in wait for Roberts.’
As Watts walked away, she made to follow him. ‘Stay there.’ He headed down the steep slope and continued on to the chain-link fence and its gate. The padlock was hanging loose on its chain. Somebody was here. He pushed open the gate. It whined on its hinges. Whoever was in one of these prefab buildings a couple of nights back, if he was here now, Watts wanted a few words. He was halfway between gate and buildings when he picked up movement. A male in work clothes and boots was coming in his direction, a thick, plaited lead wound around one hand, on the other end a large dog with the look of a Rottweiler straining forward.
‘I hope you’ve got a licence for that,’ said Watts.
‘Who are you?’
Watts reached for his inside pocket. ‘Detective Inspector Bernard Watts, Headquarters. Lock him up and bring me details of who works here and when.’
The man eyed Watts for several seconds, the muscles of his forearms bulging as he pulled the animal towards him. ‘Titan! Come on, boy. Job done.’
Watts watched man and dog walk away then disappear inside one of the buildings. The door closed on them. Watts started a slow count. If he wasn’t back here in … The door opened. The man came out alone, walked back to Watts, a clipboard in hand.
‘Can’t be too careful out here on my own.’ He jabbed a thumb at the machinery behind him. ‘That’s expensive kit. What did you say you wanted?’
‘Details of who works here and when, starting with you. Name.’
‘Shaw. Bill Shaw.’
Watts waited. Shaw reached into a back pocket, took out a wallet, pulled out a driving licence. Watts looked at it. ‘What are your hours of work here, Mr Shaw?’
‘I’m daytime security from seven a.m. to five p.m.’
‘What happens then?’
‘The night security worker arrives. There’ll be fulltime security when the new road works start.’
‘A constant, in my experience. You’ve worked here every day during the last week?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I want details of who worked each of those nights.’
Shaw consulted lists attached to the clipboard. ‘This is the current rota. It’s always me in the day and two possible workers for the night shift. As soon as one arrives, I leave. Which date are you interested in?’ Watts told him. Shaw ran a finger down a short list. ‘Gerry Williams worked the last seven nights.’ He held out the sheet.
Watts look
ed at it. ‘Tell me about him.’
‘Like I said—’
‘If you’re daytime security, there’ll be some kind of handover between the two of you. What’s this Williams like?’
Shaw looked away, shrugged. ‘Big chap. Late thirties, I’d say. Bit of an accent. Bristol, or something. He arrives. I leave. The only reason there’s security here at all is that there’s been a couple of break-ins at other sites along this motorway.’
‘What about the dog?’
‘Titan’s mine. He goes home with me.’
‘Does Williams bring a dog to work?’
‘Not that I’ve seen.’
‘So, he’s all on his lonesome here?’
‘Far as I know.’
Watts turned from him then back. ‘Seeing as though you and Williams have nothing to say to each other and no time to say it, I’m expecting you’ll forget this visit as soon as I’m gone.’
‘What visit?’
Watts nodded, his eyes moving slowly over the compound. ‘Where’s your vehicle?’
‘What?’
‘You drove here. Where is it?’
Watts looked to where he was pointing, at a dark grey car. ‘Stay there.’ He went to the beat-up Vauxhall, walked around it, wrote down the registration, got down, checked its tyres. He came back to Shaw whose eyes were fixed on the ground. ‘You know what I’m going to say. That thing’s a menace. Wait here.’ He left Shaw, sent a text and watched a uniformed constable separate from the group at the top of the hill and start down the slope. When he arrived, Watts pointed at Shaw standing where he’d left him. ‘Check his vehicle registration and sort out his violations.’
Phone to his ear, he headed back up the hill. ‘Adam, I need the search for shoeprints extended down this slope.’ Watts went to Traynor whose eyes were fixed on the compound. ‘I’ve already requested Automatic Number Plate data. Once we’ve got CCTV footage, I’ll have a couple of the team examine it all for vehicles passing along this stretch of motorway prior to the time Roberts arrived for her run. What they’ll be looking for in particular is any vehicle which turned into that access road or took the motorway exit a mile or so ahead.’ He looked at Traynor. ‘What you said about timing earlier. I’m hoping it works to our advantage. Whoever killed Roberts had to be here, ready and waiting, before she arrived. Like you said, it’s possible he watched her more than once.’
‘Let’s hope it gives us something.’
Watts studied him. Sympathetic as he was because of what he’d seen of him these last couple of days, Traynor had to know that this investigation wasn’t going to be an easy ride for anybody. ‘I’m one hundred per cent on this investigation. I expect the same from everybody.’
‘I hadn’t anticipated otherwise.’
‘How confident are you that she was stalked, observed?’
‘It makes logical sense.’
Watts thought about it. ‘Given what the family told us about her routine, he could have watched her here for weeks.’
Traynor’s eyes were still on the compound. ‘All’s possible. He may have observed her elsewhere, but that’s another “unknown”.’
A sudden shout made them all turn to the uniformed officer coming towards them. ‘Sarge! We’ve got a situation at the car park. Some workmen have arrived, demanding access. We’ve told them no but they’re refusing to leave until they’ve spoken to whoever’s in charge. One’s a right motormouth.’
Watts went with him, Judd and Traynor following. They arrived to see a truck parked across the entrance, four workmen inside the car park, one getting into the face of one of the officers responsible for guarding it.
‘Hey,’ shouted Watts. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’m the boss of this crew,’ snapped Motormouth, shoving a printed sheet at him. ‘This’ll spell it out for you. The council has sanctioned urgent work here, starting today.’
Watts shoved the sheet back at him. ‘Tell the council to forget it. This is a crime scene. Nobody comes in here, except for investigative officers.’
Motormouth squared up to Watts. ‘Who are you?’
Traynor arrived at Watts’ side.
‘Detective Inspector Watts, Senior Investigative Officer, and you’re not coming in here to start any work.’
Motormouth’s eyes flicked to Traynor, back to Watts. ‘Now I’ve got your name, I’m phoning the office to tell them we’re being prevented from carrying out essential work.’
‘Don’t waste time phoning. You’re not doing anything here.’
Motormouth’s face reddened. He raised his arm, pointing across the car park. ‘See that wall? That’s what we’re here to sort out.’
Traynor left them and headed for it.
‘The council’s surveyor has deemed it unsound and we’re here to rectify it. If you prevent us from carrying out legitimate reparations and it falls down and brains somebody, it’ll be your responsibility.’
‘And I’ll tell you again, you’re not starting any work here.’
The face-off continued. Traynor was back. ‘The buttressing this side of the wall looks sufficiently robust to support that wall for a while.’
Motormouth turned on him. ‘Who the hell are you? A civil engineering expert?’
Traynor gazed down at him. ‘Somebody who believes in treating others with respect and anticipates getting the same in return.’
Motormouth’s eyes slid away from Traynor. He gestured to his three workmates. ‘Come on. We’ve wasted enough time here. We’ll get the buildings inspector out to this.’
Watts and Traynor watched them get into the truck and screech away. ‘I’m assuming that a police investigation takes precedence,’ said Traynor.
‘Exactly. He can bring the Pope with him next time, for all I care. They still don’t get in.’
Traynor grinned.
Watts turned to the two constables to reinforce the ‘No Access’ line, then back to Traynor. ‘I’ve got an update to put together for Brophy first thing tomorrow so I’ll leave you to it.’
He and Judd climbed inside his vehicle. ‘Got a job for you, Judd. No, you don’t need to write it down. Let every officer involved in the investigation know that there’s a full briefing in the squad room tomorrow morning at eight.’
‘Sarge.’
‘I’ll be going over the evidence we’ve got so far but I also want them to know that this is a team undertaking, not just a slog in eighty-plus degrees.’ Judd looked unimpressed. His phone pinged. He read the email, unsure if it pleased him or not. On balance, he decided not. ‘Dr Chong’s found a partial palm print on Roberts’ body.’
Judd raised her fist. ‘Yes.’
‘And, contrary to your early theorizing, she’s now confirmed zero evidence of sexual activity on Roberts’ remains.’
‘Damn! … Hang on, though. Dr Traynor said that that didn’t matter.’
Rolling his eyes, Watts started the engine.
NINE
Thursday 18 August. Seven a.m.
Watts was being economical on what he knew. ‘Dr Traynor’s fully on board, sir. I’ve called a full briefing in an hour when I’ll introduce him to the team and update all of them on what I’ve just told you about the shoeprints, plus the fibre and hair evidence found on Roberts’ body. I’ll keep you updated as and when there’s more to report.’
Brophy nodded. ‘You’re confident that the area where the shoeprints were found and the crime scene are accessible from this road-repair compound?’
In the brief time Watts had known Brophy, he’d formed the impression that the less he was told, the better. Give him detail and he’d go straight to micro-managing mode. ‘It’s early stages, sir, one of a number of aspects we’ll be exploring. I’m waiting for an ident on the worker who does nights there. Dr Chong has provided identification for the skull found close to the Roberts’ homicide: Annette Barlow. Her family took a bit of tracking down. It’s just the father, apparently. I haven’t released any details to him yet. I want family liais
on involved before I do.’
‘Has Dr Traynor got any ideas on the way forward?’
‘He’s suggested several lines of inquiry.’ Reluctant as he was to tell him, Brophy needed to know. ‘He’s got a theory that if there’s any physical similarities between Roberts and Barlow, their killer could be highly dangerous.’
Brophy’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Most killers are risky. Why is he upping the ante on this one?’
Excising the phrase ‘bloody obvious’ hurtling inside his head, Watts selected other words. ‘It’s the possibility of decapitation of both victims, sir, plus the long timeframe from the Barlow skull burial to the Roberts homicide. It looks like whoever this killer is, he’s sticking at it. Enjoying what he does. What we’ve seen so far might not be his whole story.’ He watched the horrified look surface on Brophy’s face. ‘Traynor’s advice is that we put out a city-wide warning so people know that current risk exists in that area and can make informed choices.’
Brophy drummed his fingers on the desk. ‘On the basis of one homicide a decade ago and one recently? I’ve got misgivings about that. There’s too much press interest as it is without adding warnings.’ He looked at Watts. ‘What do you think?’
‘If we do issue a warning, we risk attracting a load of types who want to “confess” or tell us they know the killer and we could be wasting valuable investigative time checking them out—’
‘Exactly my thinking!’
‘But I also get what Dr Traynor is saying. That people, particularly those in the south of the city, need to be warned so they can decide what they do and where.’
Brophy looked away from him to the open windows. Watts waited for him to show the authority which went with his rank and pay grade. Brophy looked back at him. ‘We’re barely a couple of days into this investigation. There’s no need to rush to a decision like that, but don’t tell Dr Traynor it’s an outright “no”. Just … put him off.’
Watts’ impression of Traynor so far was that he wasn’t easily put off. He had half-hoped that as senior officer, Brophy would make the strong choice in favour of a warning, but only half. This was a chief who preferred to avoid decisive action wherever he could. Watts stood. ‘If that’s all, sir, I’ve got a briefing to start. One other thing. Has anybody from the council contacted you about work planned at Blackfoot Trail?’