Patrick smiled. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘Dad says it’s like making tea. When a crisis happens someone reaches for the teapot and someone else sorts out the “box of appropriate platitudes”.’
‘Box of … oh I love that. It’s so Harry, but I might have to steal it from him. He’s right, though. That’s exactly what we do.’
‘And I am all right,’ Patrick told her. ‘I didn’t really know Leanne, you know. She was just part of the group, so I feel terrible about what happened to her but also terrible that I can’t feel as much as the others, you know?’
Annie nodded.
‘I feel like I should be more … I don’t know. I’m horrified, I’m a little bit scared. I’m grateful that I didn’t know Leanne better because I can see what her friends are going through and then I feel like a real shit for being grateful for that—’ He paused, poking at the crust of his sandwich left on his plate – ‘and I’m really, really thankful that I’ve got people I can say this to and they won’t think badly of me.’
‘Thank you,’ Annie said simply. ‘For including me in that group.’ She paused as though considering what she should say next. ‘Gregory called,’ she said. ‘Nathan managed to get access to some of the crime scene photos and he’s waiting on information from some contacts he has. But the consensus is—’
‘That this isn’t a one off,’ Patrick finished. ‘That he’s killed before.’ He noted Annie’s surprise and shook his head. ‘Look, two of our closest friends are ex-police officers, another two are … well, whatever you’d call Gregory and Nathan.’
‘I suppose that represents a kind of balance.’
‘I suppose it does. I suppose that’s the best way of looking at it. Anyway, you don’t have those sorts of people around you and not pick things up. Whoever killed Leanne wasn’t scared. He was confident enough to do it with her friends sleeping next door. He took his time with it and he was in control. He must have been. So it couldn’t have been his first time, could it? He’d had time to practise, time to get it right.’
Annie nodded. ‘That’s the assumption,’ she said. ‘Patrick, if you or Harry are worried about you being round campus, Bob and I, we’d be more than happy for you to—’
He was shaking his head. ‘The place is crawling with police. Half my friends are going home, but I don’t think any of that is going to help, you know?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I mean, if a man like that is out to get you then he’ll find a way, whoever you are, wherever you are. I mean … look, it’s not quite the same thing, but a few police or you trying to run away wouldn’t stop Gregory would it. I mean, not that he’d do something like this just for fun but, you know what I mean?’
‘I know what you mean and no, you’re right, that wouldn’t stop Gregory or Nathan for that matter. But you’re also right, neither of them would do something like that for fun. There would have to be a reason.’
‘I guess whoever did it believes he had a reason,’ Patrick said. ‘Even if the reason was just that he wanted to.’
‘People who just “want to” are the most dangerous of all,’ Annie said softly and Patrick, looking at the woman with the long black hair and violet eyes seated across the table from him, wondered what she was remembering; who, in particular she had called to mind.
The sound of the front door opening and Bob coming up the hall broke the sombre mood. The two dogs skittered into the kitchen, greeted Patrick and Annie and then headed, tails wagging for their food bowls.
‘Bob, they’re muddied up to hell, where did you get to?’
‘Walked along the ridge and then across the fields. I was thinking. I lost track of time.’
Patrick’s interest was piqued. He had learnt enough ‘Bob code’ as Annie called it to recognize this meant a new painting was brewing. Bob reached beneath the sink and found one of the old towels they kept for drying the dogs. He rubbed them both down before washing his hands and starting a new pot of coffee. Only then did he remember to remove his damp and muddy coat.
‘I found a tree,’ he said.
‘You walked through a wood,’ Annie pointed out.
‘Yes, but I mean I found a tree. He dug a small digital camera out of his pocket and switched it on. Annie and Patrick crowded close so they could see the screen.
‘Ah, I see what you mean. It looks like an old ash.’
‘It’s the World Tree,’ Bob said. ‘See the way the roots reach down the bank like a network of snakes. It’s exactly what I needed. And that sky …’ He looked round distractedly and then seized his coffee mug and wandered out of the kitchen.
Annie laughed. ‘Did he tell you what he wanted doing today? Because you’ll not get any sense out of him now.’
Patrick nodded. ‘We’re not so different, are we?’
‘From?’
‘From whoever killed Leanne.’
‘I might not be, Gregory might not be, but you? Patrick you are worlds away.’
He shook his head. ‘No, I’m not. I know if anyone hurt someone I loved like that I’d not just want them dead I’d want them to be hurting when they died.’
Annie regarded him thoughtfully. ‘Patrick, could you take the knife and drive it home?’
‘I think I could, yes.’
‘Then you have an insight that few people dare to have. It doesn’t make you a bad person and it certainly doesn’t make you like this killer, or even like Gregory for that matter. Gregory accepted what he was a long time ago. He knows one day it will probably catch up with him and he knows that in the eyes of many he’ll deserve what comes. This man, he’s just indulging in a game of ‘I’m cleverer than the police, the victims, their families …’ Gregory doesn’t think he’s better. You don’t think you’re better. That’s what’s different. You create, you don’t destroy, not unless someone pushes you into a corner and you have to fight your way out and then, well, I’d be happy to have you at my back. But that would be you in extremis. Not you in the everyday. This man, he’s that every moment of his life, even when he’s doing something as innocuous as the supermarket shop. Death shapes and defines him and causing suffering is the outward display of his power. So no, we’re not like him.’
Gently, she squeezed Patrick’s hand and then took their mugs over to the sink. ‘Now, go and listen to Bob mutter for the afternoon, that’s where you belong.’
Patrick nodded, but he was only half convinced. He could imagine himself as Annie put it, driving the knife home, not with any self-satisfied sense of vengeance but because it might have to be done and it scared him. Excited him too in a way and that recognition just scared him all the more.
EIGHTEEN
‘Talk to me,’ Tess said. ‘Tell me about Joe Jackson. I never knew the man, he’d retired before I moved up here and all I know is the vitriol that followed his fall from grace.’
Naomi laughed uneasily. ‘He didn’t so much fall as crash and burn,’ she said.
‘And as far as I was concerned, there never was any grace,’ Alec added. ‘I hated the man, as Naomi will tell you.’
‘I’d rather you told me. Look, you could say that Vin and I have been slightly side-lined, here. We’re in charge of case reviews; anything Joe Jackson might have touched that impacts on the present case and on the one from eighteen years ago. Rebecca Arnold.’
‘And the killings in between?’ It was a calculated guess, but Naomi felt at once that it had hit the target.
‘And the two before,’ Tess said quietly. She took a deep breath. We think there are at least five over a period of twenty-two years. That’s what we think so far. Six including Leanne Bolter.’
‘Six? Fucking hell.’ Alec rarely swore, something that had always amused his colleagues.
‘Quite,’ Tess said.
‘Who’s the SIO?’ Naomi asked.
‘Chief Inspector Field. It could be worse.’
‘And who’s dealing with the Internal Affairs investigation?’
‘A former DC
I. Name of Trinder. I don’t know him at all. He’s been brought out of retirement to head it up. I don’t know why that is either.’
‘I do,’ Naomi said. ‘Alec and Joe Jackson worked an undercover case when Alec was still a probationer. Alec should never have been put in the position he was. The surveillance teams and Alec should have been pulled out before the raid took place. Joe knew there’d be weapons fired and he knew where Alec was and that he was in danger of being caught in the crossfire. But he gave him no warning, made no concessions for the fact they’d still got a man inside and he nearly got Alec killed. Internal Affairs was brought in, not just because Alec complained but because the whole operation was called into question. Trinder was in charge of the enquiry that followed. Joe was suspended and lucky to get away with just that. If I remember right at least two senior officers took early retirement.’
‘Over that one incident?’ Tess asked. ‘Alec, I don’t mean to diminish anything you went through but—’
‘No, not just that operation. Joe Jackson, a DI called Ben Rackam and a DCI Pool, now deceased, I think, they saw themselves as some local version of The Sweeney, Joe felt he’d been side-lined, that his career was going nowhere. He had a wife who’d run off with a man who could give her more of what she wanted and he had lost custody of his daughter. Penny. Anyway, Joe Jackson’s life was a mess. No one realized it at the time but—’
‘So, did you meet Trinder?’
‘Once,’ Naomi said. ‘At a conference just before he retired.’
‘Must have done, I suppose.’ Alec said. ‘I was interviewed by IA. I nearly walked, if I’m honest. Suddenly being a PC didn’t seem a healthy lifestyle choice.’
‘But you stayed.’
‘Couldn’t think what else I wanted to do.’
‘He’s going to want to talk to you both,’ Tess said. ‘If you were still in the force, chances are you’d be off on gardening leave.’
‘That might be difficult,’ Alec said. ‘No garden. Though we have applied for an allotment. You wouldn’t believe the waiting lists.’ He trailed off. ‘Sorry, Tess. I thought I’d done with all this. So what do you want to know? How can we help you?’
Naomi felt Tess relax and was suddenly conscious that the other woman had been ready for them to tell her this was no longer their concern and she should leave them alone. They’d have been within their rights, Naomi thought, and her first instinct might have been exactly that.
‘I need a start point,’ Tess said. ‘I feel like I’m all but excluded from the present investigation. I get to see the book and attend the briefings, but my hands are tied as far as actual investigation. So I thought I’d start with Rebecca Arnold. She was local, I have you two so I’ve got something of an inside track. I’m not going in totally blind.’
Naomi nodded. ‘You need to talk to Alec about that,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t even here when the investigation was happening. But I can tell you about Joe Jackson.’ She drew a deep, somewhat unsteady breath. ‘I can at least do that.’
‘I’m grateful,’ Tess told her.
‘So, what are the parallels,’ Alec asked. ‘What makes everyone so certain these murders are connected? Why have the connections not been made earlier … or have they?’
‘And the other cases?’ Naomi added. ‘All the same MO? The same victim profile?’
She was aware of the pause as Tess gathered her thoughts.
‘I think we need more coffee,’ Alec suggested.
‘That would be good,’ Tess agreed. ‘And if you don’t mind, can we run through what you know in isolation? I want to see what you and Jackson saw in the Arnold case. Know what the thought process was in that one instance before we muddy the waters with the rest. And then I’d like an insight into Joe Jackson, his thought processes, his investigative technique. Believe me, Alec, Naomi, I’ve been staring at case files since first thing this morning and my brain is about to explode. They’re all running into one another. I need to focus on the one girl, the one instance, the one death and investigation and you two are the closest things I’ve got to an eyewitness account.’
‘OK,’ Alec agreed. He went through to the kitchen to make more coffee and Naomi turned her face towards where Tess was sitting. Something the woman had said had struck her hard. That the cases were all running together and she could no longer tell them apart.
‘Are they all so similar, then?’ she asked softly. ‘Same MO, same victim profile?’
‘That would be simple, wouldn’t it? In a way? No. The victims are male, female, the youngest was fifteen and the oldest we know about eighty-six. But there’s something … intangible, but there if you know what I mean. It’s like he leaves a … an impression behind, a …’ she laughed uncertainly. ‘Sorry, I’m letting my imagination run away with me. I suppose it happens after a morning of crime scene photos.’
Naomi nodded. It did. She could remember the effect. ‘So,’ she said as Alec returned. ‘Who do you want to start with? Me or Alec? Either way I think we should send out for pizza or something. I bet you’ve not eaten and I don’t think we’ve got anything in the fridge worth making sandwiches from.’
‘Thanks,’ Tess said and Naomi understood she was grateful not just for the offer of food, but also for the tacit understanding that this would be a long discussion and that they were willing to give her the time to have it.
NINETEEN
It was DCI Field who attended the post-mortem in Tess’s place. He had studied the crime scene photos but facing the actual corpse, Field thought, was always different. Always both more intense but also oddly easier. Field had analysed that many times but never come up with a satisfactory reason as to why that should be.
‘No DI Fuller?’
‘No, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.’
‘She’s prettier.’
Field laughed. ‘Can’t argue with that. How are you, Deacon?’
‘Getting older. You?’
‘The same. How are the family?’
‘Grown and flown. It must be what. Ten years?’
‘Easily that. The records say you did the PM on Rebecca Arnold.’
‘I did,’ Deacon agreed. ‘I’ve reviewed the records and on the face of it, I’d say there are a lot of similarities.’
Field approached the table and studied the girl’s face. There was bruising on the cheekbone and a small cut on the cheek but otherwise the face was untouched. Her hair spread out against the stainless steel and hung down over the end of the bench. It would have reached the girl’s waist, Field guessed. ‘He combed her hair.’
‘It looks that way, and he cut a strand, probably a souvenir.’ Deacon turned the head slightly and showed Field a small patch where the hair had been cut close to the scalp.
‘Did he do that to Rebecca Arnold?’
‘Not that I recorded. But a ring was missing. It was tight on her finger, so he took that too. At least that’s the assumption. It was missing anyway.’
‘And the wounds. Pre- or post-mortem?’
Deacon paused. ‘She died when he cut her throat. Arterial blood was still pumping. The spray hit the ceiling and probably covered the killer, though it had lost some of its force by then. If you look at the crime scene photos, the bed was up against the wall, the cut was made from the victim’s right, across to her left and was made with considerable force. He was almost certainly leaning over her and drew the knife towards himself.’
‘And the order of the injuries?’
‘Blood patterns from the crime scene indicate that there was bleeding from the incision, here to here.’ Deacon indicated the opening in the abdomen from ribcage to pubic bone. ‘I have to assume she was still alive at that point. Tox isn’t back yet, but from the lack of defensive wounds I think we can assume she was unconscious or at least sedated and subdued.’
‘I suppose we should be thankful for small mercies. How long would this have taken?’
‘Hard to say. It depends how much of a hurry he was in. But, just speculat
ing, he didn’t rush and he knew exactly what he wanted to do. The incisions are straight and clean and there are no hesitation cuts. No sense that he had to think about it. He had a steady hand and a keen eye.’
‘A doctor, maybe?’
‘Or just someone with a lack of fear and a full measure of confidence,’ Deacon said. ‘Am I right in assuming there have been others between Rebecca Arnold and this poor girl?’
Field nodded.
‘I’d have been surprised if not. According to my recollection, old Fincher was involved in the Arnold case, wasn’t he?’
‘The psychiatrist, yes. Joe Jackson consulted with him. Unofficially.’
‘Which means he too is tainted, I suppose. For that matter, I should be as well. I was a friend of Joe’s back then and my findings are in the case file.’
‘DI Jackson knew everyone, seemed to have a finger in every pie going,’ Field said. ‘The question we have to ask is, does the fact that he seems to have been a murderer also make him a bad detective? How much should we call into question?’
‘Well, good luck with that one,’ Deacon told him. He signalled to his assistant that he was ready to begin. Field stepped back and watched.
TWENTY
‘Jackson had a theory,’ Alec said. ‘He was convinced that whoever the killer was, he was either an investigator or in the medical profession.’
‘And why was that?’
‘Truthfully? I was too far down the food chain to be told. But I do know he had a particular suspect in mind. Hemsby or—’
‘Hemingsby?’ Tess said, recalling the name from her quick perusal of the case files. ‘I don’t remember who he was.’
‘A shrink,’ Alec said. ‘I think, anyway. I don’t recall if he was the psychiatrist kind or the psychologist variety or maybe a marriage guidance counsellor for all I know. Jackson was so convinced he was our man that he all but ignored two other suspects.’
‘If Joe thought that was the best lead then there’s every chance it was,’ Naomi said thoughtfully. ‘Whatever else he was he was a brilliant investigator. His clear up rate was—’
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