by Anita Waller
Erica sighed and leaned back. ‘We’ll catch him this time. I don’t care about obstacles, he or she laughed at us back in twenty-fourteen but I’m in charge now, and they don’t call me the terrier for nothing.’
‘Do they?’
‘Do they what?’
‘Call you the terrier.’
‘No, but they should.’
Beth laughed and sipped at her drink. ‘So, have you had any thoughts? You looked lost in them when I walked to the van.’
‘Not really. Our first job is to find out if anybody’s come out of prison in the last month or so, after a five-year stretch. Those figures are variable. And we need to factor some things in like where the hell does he get Propofol from? I’m pretty damn sure you can’t buy that from a chemist’s.’
Beth took out her phone. Seconds later she showed Erica the results of her search. ‘You may not get it in a chemist’s, but it’s certainly available online. Or what about somebody who works in a hospital? Nurse? Orderly? Doctor? Does that water come much higher than that? It’s almost at our feet.’
‘It does. This is part of the new flood defence system Sheffield had to install. It works like an overflow from a sink, so I understand…’ Erica’s voice trailed away. ‘That’s what’s happened.’
She sat upright, and Beth looked at her.
‘What’s bothered me about this is if it is the same killer, and I’m ninety-nine per cent sure it is, he posed his victims. It wasn’t about having them sexually, it was about saying look what I’ve done and isn’t she pretty. That’s why it didn’t occur to me it was the same thing, even though Susie was naked. She wasn’t posed, and we’ve assumed she was dumped in the river. What if she wasn’t?’
Beth was listening closely. ‘You mean he posed her down there?’
‘No. I mean he posed her somewhere else, and the flood waters took her. What if he posed her on one of these seats? The water rose because it was spectacularly torrential that night, and took his carefully prepared body.’ Erica pulled out her phone, spoke to somebody from the Forensic team, who promised to be there within the hour.
‘Smart thinking, boss. I can’t see them getting anything, with all this water, but for what it’s worth, I think you’re right. Now let’s clear our rubbish up before we get arrested.’
7
The rain had stopped, but the skies threatened a heavy downpour at any moment. Erica and her team had assembled early for instructions, and Beth had been busy dividing the officers into groups of four, with details of where their search was to take place, pending forensic results from the intensive coverage of the pocket park. While the two senior officers felt that was the place where he had posed his victim, there still was no absolute proof, and work had to continue to look for any results from any other part of the water course.
The two women had met at six, clutching large takeaway coffees, to plan out the next steps. They knew every part of the five mile river had to be covered; the killer would kill again, of that they had no doubt, and he needed to be stopped before another young girl died. They had acquired a detailed map of the Porter, and its descent into the city centre. They began by drawing lines across and allocating members of their team, which had grown considerably given the new urgency that had been added to the investigation, once it was confirmed it was the same MO as their cold case killer.
Coffees finished, they headed into the briefing room. Every officer had checked in early; even the ones who hadn’t seen the body in situ had seen the photographs. This was a young girl near the start of her life, had done nothing to merit such an awful death. The whole team was waiting, ready for their instructions.
Beth took charge, handing out copies of the map to the allocated leader of each team of four. They had three teams and Erica watched with a degree of pride as everybody accepted the role handed to them, and immediately began preparations to move out.
She stood. ‘Before you disappear, do not go into that water without waders, and take care. None of it is easy to walk in, and the water levels have risen overnight, so we’ve been told. I don’t want any accidents. Your team leaders have transmitters, and I suggest you have your phones on your person in case anything happens. If you find anything at all, your team leader is your first person to tell, and they will contact either Beth or myself. Any questions?’
There were none. Every officer was keen to get on with the search, and looking forward to getting this day over with. Almost everybody in the contingent had already been out to the river, and knew what they were facing; the sooner they were done, the better.
Becky scrolled through the contacts on her phone while trying to manipulate the bagel that was dripping butter onto her left hand. Finally she found what she was looking for, and rang Zoe Wilton’s number. She hoped it was the right Zoe.
Clare’s sudden decision to have an hour in the gym the previous evening had caused some trepidation in both Becky and Katie, but they had extracted a promise that she would take a taxi there and back. They had offered to go with her, but she had clearly wanted time on her own, and so they pretended they weren’t worried in any way.
Becky had felt a degree of relief when they had received a text from Clare saying she was okay, and staying the night with Zoe, as she had brought her car, and they were going to work on Macbeth. She had finished with a see you tomorrow and a kiss.
‘Zoe, it’s Becky, Clare’s housemate.’
‘Clare?’
‘Clare Vincent…’
‘Oh, that Clare. Hi, Becky. What can I do for you? I was so sorry to hear about Susie. We all are, but I’m sure you know that.’
‘Isn’t Clare with you?’ Becky felt sick. She didn’t really want Zoe to answer.
‘No, I usually see her at the gym, but I haven’t been for a few days.’
‘O…kay,’ Becky said slowly. ‘I must have misunderstood what she said. Sorry to have bothered you.’ She disconnected and turned to Katie.
‘What is it?’ There was fear in Katie’s voice.
‘She’s not there. Zoe hasn’t been to the gym for a few days.’ She clicked on Messenger and showed the message to Katie. ‘This definitely says she’s staying at Zoe’s. We have to ring DI Cheetham.’
The cold hit all of them as they began the searches at their designated points. Ian Thomas was glad he’d been given Flick Ardern, Mike Nestor and Sam King as his team – all reliable, and would simply get on with the job with no messing. It was there to be done, and they would do it.
‘Flick, you stay this side with me,’ Ian said, then laughed as he saw her struggling to put on her waders. ‘Hang on a minute, I’ll help.’ Flick’s grey eyes that turned towards him were the same colour as the rain. Her brown hair was starting to come out of her ponytail, and she appeared to be too tiny to be wearing waders. They would engulf her. He could feel her infuriation with herself vibrating out of her.
‘Some people wear these through choice, to go fishing,’ Mike grumbled. He seemed to be struggling as much as Flick.
Eventually all four were suitably clothed, and edged their way to the opposite banks of the river. The noise of the water was thundery as it pulsated down towards the lower reaches, and Flick wondered how much was still up in the hills driving its way down towards the visible source above the little village of Ringinglow.
The rain fell with some force once again but it seemed a secondary issue in comparison with the amount of water running by their sides, and in Ian’s case, under his feet. He had dropped into the river to look at the banks from a different angle – he wanted to miss nothing. He trod carefully, moving further into the middle, then turned around to switch his view to the opposite bank. Nothing looked out of order, so he made his way to the bank that Flick was searching.
She looked up as he joined her. ‘You didn’t drown then.’
‘No, but I’ve never known anything like this. There’s some power in that water. I don’t want you to go in, leave the river itself to us lads. It’ll sweep a little �
�un like you off your feet. And don’t go all feminist on me, it’s not about men and women, it’s about weight. I wouldn’t let Kev Ward go in either, he’s not got much flesh on him.’
Flick held up a hand. ‘Hey, I’m not arguing. I know you’re right. So far I’ve found an empty Coke can, and that’s it. I’ll carry on heading lower.’
‘Thanks, Flick.’ He touched her shoulder, and moved a few yards further down river. The ground was treacherously unstable, and he trod carefully. Although he didn’t mind going in the river, he wanted it to be under his own terms, and not propelled there in an uncontrolled kind of way.
The rain was coming down faster, and Ian tightened the drawstring around his hood. It gave an illusion of warmth, even if he was starting to feel chilled all the way through. He figured he’d give them another hour of searching, and he’d get them back to the car with the engine running, to get some warmth. Everybody had brought a flask and food so they didn’t have to go seeking sustenance. A half-hour break and they could return to the job, feeling better. He peered into the water, trying to estimate its depth, but couldn’t. He knew from having been in this spot in better weather that it was normally clear and sweet, but not today.
He took a tentative step, clinging on to a small gorse bush to help his descent, and felt his feet go. He scrabbled around in the most inelegant fashion, finally landing on his knees, water powering into his face. He gasped as he climbed up, and was aware of Mike Nestor by his side, helping him.
‘You okay?’ Mike shouted.
Ian merely nodded, feeling winded.
He leaned against the bankside and gathered his thoughts, spitting out river water. He could see Flick asking if he was okay but hadn’t the strength to answer, so simply waved a hand.
Mike held up a thumb towards Flick and slowly worked his way back across to where he had been when he saw Ian go in. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy day, and when he had told his wife what he would be spending the day doing, she had laughed. His fear of water and swimming was well known within his family, but there was no way he would ever admit it at work.
He was up to his waist in torrential flood waters, on an uneven and rocky river bed, and he doubted he would ever be afraid of water again. This day’s work wiped out every bit of aquaphobia he had ever had.
He raised a hand to Sam to indicate that Ian was okay, but Sam was looking further down the river, on the opposite bank, binoculars glued to his face. Mike eased himself out and knelt for a moment in the mud, before clambering up to go to his partner.
‘What is it?’
Sam handed him the glasses. ‘That big rock about a hundred yards down. There’s something…’
Mike wiped the water from his eyes, then raised the binoculars. He was silent for a moment. ‘Shit,’ he said finally, ‘isn’t that…?’
Sam took the binoculars back and looked again. ‘It’s a leg, isn’t it.’
Mike took out his mobile phone and rang Ian. ‘Think you might need to work your way down your side. There’s a big rock. Tread carefully, there’s something on the other side of it. Ian – we think it’s another body. Looks like we can see a leg.’
8
Everything seemed to happen at once. Erica and Beth had snapped seat belts into place, and Erica had started the engine. Her phone rang out, and she answered it, registering it was Ivor Simmonite’s name on her screen.
‘Clever girl,’ were his opening words.
‘I am?’
‘You are. Our blonde lady was definitely in the pocket park. We found two strands of long blonde hair. They were on the iron hand rail support, so it looks as though he wedged her on the steps, probably with her back to the upright. It’s quite possible that the water reached her and took her into the river, but her hair was already caught on the upright. It’s a match to her.’
‘So he did pose her…’ Erica breathed out quietly, feeling sick that this, in her mind, confirmed it was the same killer, surfacing once more after five years of inactivity.
‘He did, it seems.’
‘Thank you, Ivor. I’ll pop down to see you when I get back. I’ve another call coming in, I’ll see you later.’
She disconnected and took the next call without checking her screen, so was surprised when Becky said her name.
‘Hi, Becky. Is something wrong?’
She listened to Becky’s rather incoherent, garbled answer, and disconnected with the words, ‘We’ll be there in ten minutes.’
‘Problem?’ Beth asked.
‘Problem. Clare Vincent didn’t come home last night.’
Erica put the car into drive, and they headed for the student house, both of them hoping Clare Vincent would have turned up by the time they got there. It was only as they reached Crookesvale Gardens that Erica’s phone rang again.
This time the caller was Ian Thomas.
Erica left Beth to deal with developments around Becky and Katie and headed for the source of the river at Ringinglow. Her instructions to Beth had been to remain at the house, and to organise at least one other officer to join her there. The girls were to stay put until they could sort out a safe refuge for them and she had every confidence that Beth could pull it all off without letting them know that there was a strong possibility that the newly-discovered body by the side of the river was Clare Vincent.
Beth was struggling. She wasn’t dealing with irresponsible teenagers who gullibly believed everything she said, she was handling mature, intelligent women who guessed she knew more than she was saying. She felt a sense of relief when her colleague Will Bramwell arrived, and Becky quickly made drinks for everyone, before handing details of Clare’s parents’ address in Doncaster over to Beth.
‘We didn’t know whether to ring her mum, but decided not to worry her yet.’
Beth smiled at Becky. ‘Thank you. We’ll see to it. She doesn’t have a father?’
‘No, he died two years ago. Her mum isn’t well, either. I hope she turns up soon so she doesn’t have to know Clare is being a tad irresponsible.’
Will kept them entertained, tried to keep their minds away from the horrors they were both clearly feeling, and waited patiently with the girls while Beth left to speak to Erica, telling her the situation at the house. They agreed it was time to tell Becky and Katie the terrible news.
Clare Vincent’s short curly hair was plastered to her head, and her body glistened with rainwater. This time the pose favoured by the killer had remained in place, and her hands were crossed over her stomach. Her breasts and pubic area were on display for all to see, until Forensics arrived to set up their tent. Erica confirmed it was Clare Vincent, and arranged for the teams further downriver to join them at the source. The refreshment van and Portaloo were called in, and it looked like being a long day.
Erica checked with Ian that he was okay – he had been first on scene to see the body, but she got the impression he was angry rather than upset. She knew how that felt; she felt the same. A second twenty-year-old to lose her life in two days, both girls filled with such promise and leaving distraught parents and families.
Ian was placed in charge of organising the search – this body hadn’t arrived by boat, or over a bike’s handlebars. It had to have been transported in a car, and in the dreadful muddy conditions surely it would be apparent where a vehicle had been.
Erica ducked inside the tent and saw Ivor with his hands moving Clare’s hair. For a second she felt sick. Ivor looked up as he heard her.
‘I was going to send somebody to find you,’ he said. ‘Look at this.’ He moved Clare’s head slightly to one side, and Erica leaned over him. There was a small mark on her neck, almost invisible.
‘Injection?’ she asked, and Ivor nodded. ‘It is. I bet we find Propofol when we do the tox screen. She, like our earlier victim, has been strangled with tights and that’s probably the cause of death, and I would say she’s been dead around ten hours.’
‘She went missing sometime last night,’ Erica confirmed. ‘Told he
r friends she was going to the gym but we haven’t checked yet whether she actually arrived there. I’ll find which gym it is, and go there later. I’m needed here for a bit longer, everybody’s wet through and I reckon they need to see me around at the moment. Ian Thomas is squelching wherever he walks.’
‘It can’t rain for ever,’ Ivor said.
‘You sure? Can I have that in writing?’ She touched his shoulder, and ducked out of the tent. Ian was standing on the bank, staring across the river. ‘The levels aren’t dropping at all, are they?’ he said, as she came up behind him.
‘Not in any way. We’ve had confirmation that Susanna Roebuck was positioned in the pocket park, but I think at some point during the night, when the river was running really high, it spilled over into the park, and took her body. That’s what the park is there for, to act as a flood defence, so it did its job. It’s why she ended up under the station, and not posed. Thank God she was caught by those big stones, or we would probably never have found her.’
‘So we can call off the search of the lower levels and concentrate up here?’ Ian asked.
‘I’m calling it that way. I don’t have a vast team to bring in, so we have to find out how he got Clare here.’
‘You’ve ruled out it being a woman?’
‘I haven’t ruled anything out until we get some sort of a clue. Logistically, and because men are stronger, it looks as though it’s a man because the bodies aren’t simply chucked out of a vehicle, they’re actually carried and manipulated. Conversely, it’s not about sex. It wasn’t about sex five years ago, and it’s the same now.’
‘You think it’s definitely the same person?’
‘I do. And I also think our other two girls are in danger, so I’m having them moved to a place of safety, along with two officers in attendance all the time. Five years ago he or she stuck rigidly to girls with the letter L for a Christian name, this time he’s picked girls living in the same house. It’s definitely an obsession, the bodies in his mind have to be linked in some way. We have to make sure he has no access to Becky and Katie. As soon as they hear this is Clare, they’re going to make the connection and they’re going to be scared. Until this is over and we’ve got the killer locked up, they have to be out of circulation.’