DI Stefan Fletcher came up beside Claire and gave the body the once over, seeing it for the first time. He frowned, face contorting as he recognised the dead man before them.
‘So it is him.’
‘Raymond Knox,’ Claire said. Her eyes flicked to one side to see Stefan’s reaction. ‘The infamous Dahlia Rapist.’
Stefan took a few moments to process what he was seeing. ‘What a welcome back,’ he said to her. ‘What a mess to come back to.’
She sighed. ‘I knew this was coming.’
‘Come on, you couldn’t have known this… this, here was going to happen.’
Claire turned to him. ‘Something was brewing, Fletch. True, I couldn’t foresee this here, now, but you can’t say we weren’t warned.’
‘Death threats, Claire. Threats.’ He looked back at the body. ‘Threats get made all the time. We couldn’t have known someone was going to go all out here and make good on those threats.’
Claire shrugged. ‘Maybe.’ She cocked her head to one side to get a better look at the body. ‘Talk about symbolic.’
Stefan stared at Knox’s face and knew exactly what she meant.
Raymond Knox was a mess. His eyes were open, lifeless like glass. His body was leaning upright against a tree. The T-shirt he wore underneath his hoodie was soaked in blood, sticking to him like a second skin, partially shredded from where he’d been stabbed.
It was his face, though, that commanded the most attention.
His head was slumped to the side. Blood dripped every so often from his unshaven chin. His mouth was dark red. Deep, jagged lacerations tore from the corners of either side of his mouth, pulling up through his cheeks towards his ears.
‘He was found – we think – not long after he was killed. He was still warm. He failed to sign in for curfew,’ she said, pointing to the tag around his ankle. ‘The manager at the hostel called it in. GPS tag meant he was found quickly.’
‘And DC Harper was the first on the scene from CID?’
Claire nodded. ‘He’s leading the house-to-house already. I’m hopeful someone must have seen something. The window for the killer to escape is pretty tight. Chances are they are still in the area.’
Stefan nodded, then looked at the body again. He exhaled, not really believing what he was seeing.
‘Someone was making a point,’ Stefan said. ‘Do we know if the wounds go all the way through the flesh?’
‘They do,’ said a voice, coming from the side of them.
Claire smiled as forensic pathologist Dr Danika Schreiber came up beside them. She, too, was dressed in a paper suit, hood over her black hair. She gestured with her gloved hands. ‘This was an incredibly savage assault, inflicted with what appears to be a sharp, thin blade of some sort.’
She looked at Knox’s Glasgow Smile.
‘The cuts go completely through the cheek. The knife was dragged up through the cheeks with some force.’
Claire barely winced.
She had to remember who this man was. She wasn’t going to show too much empathy. ‘Do you know yet if the cuts were made before or after he died?’
Danika gave a nod as she studied Knox’s face again. ‘From my initial examination I’d saybefore he died. The wounds are severe enough to cause mass haemorrhage – that would’ve proved fatal. I need to do a thorough examination before I can be sure, but that won’t be until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.’
A breeze picked up, wafting the smell from Knox’s body towards them.
‘The wounds to the face…’
‘Like something we’ve seen before… fifteen years ago?’ Claire said, eyebrow raised.
Danika nodded, a feeling of unease creeping through her body. ‘Even without the lacerations to the face… He’s been stabbed repeatedly, all over his body.’
‘It’s overkill, that’s what it is,’ Claire said.
Stefan looked in agreement. ‘Whoever did this wanted him to suffer.’
‘What about time of death?’ Claire said.
‘He was still warm when he was found. Rigor has started to set in, but it’s minimal. He’s not even been here two hours. The wounds are deep, savage. Someone was in a mad frenzy when they did this.’
‘So we could assume they would want him to feel every ounce of pain,’ Claire said.
‘And you would want him alert for that,’ Stefan added.
Danika nodded. ‘And given who he is…’ She trailed off.
Claire turned to look at her. ‘Given who he is, there’ll be a long list of suspects with a motive.’
Stefan nodded. ‘I’ll start getting a list of potentials together.’
‘Start with Knox’s victims first.’
‘You thinking revenge killing?’
Claire looked at him, her expression hard. ‘Do you remember the case?’
‘Who doesn’t?’
‘Exactly. What he did was extreme.’ She turned back to the body. ‘Imagine if it was Melody, Fletch.’
She saw Stefan flinch when she mentioned his nine-year-old daughter’s name.
‘You’d be after this monster’s blood… Knox’s victims and their families have been very public with their feelings on his impending release.’
‘Understandably,’ he said, eyebrows raised.
‘I don’t like this any more than you do, Fletch. Threats were made by wider members of the public, too. We need to look at social media. That’s where most of the threats were made. Even if they were all talk, jumping on the bandwagon, we need to explore them, take each seriously.’
She turned back to the body, eyes sweeping over him once more. ‘The media are going to portray this as real justice.’ She glanced over her shoulder, making sure only the three of them were in earshot. ‘Hard not to see their point, considering what he did, but we’ve a job to do…’
‘I second that,’ Danika said as she got to her feet.
‘All the blood and spatter is localised to this immediate area, which would indicate he’s not been moved,’ Claire said.
‘Well, whoever is responsible didn’t walk out of here spotless. They would be covered in blood.’
Stefan looked to Claire. ‘What have the SOCOs got to say?’
‘Not a great deal at the moment.’ She started to walk away from the body, keeping to the walkway they’d used to enter the area to avoid contaminating the scene.
‘Full briefing at six. See where we are then.’ She paused when she stepped under the police-tape cordon. ‘I have a bad feeling about this; I don’t mind admitting it. Donahue will want to set up a press conference as soon as he can.’
They began to strip off their suits to be bagged up in evidence bags, and Claire couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that gripped her insides.
‘You know Knox’s father, Rupert, will likely make a formal complaint that his concerns weren’t taken as seriously as perhaps they should’ve been, don’t you?’
Stefan shrugged. ‘That wasn’t our department at the time. His assault has only just happened. Harper was on it but, like I said, people in the community aren’t too bothered about assisting us. As far as they’re concerned, the Knox family are fair game.’
Claire looked despondent.
It would be hard to argue with that.
The Canonical Three
Ffion
#DahliaRapist.
Twitter was dishing up its usual fair share of trolls and keyboard warriors.
In the age of social networking one thing was for certain – news travels fast, good or bad. Right now it was starting to spread that a body of a man found in Haverbridge wood was, in fact, Raymond Knox, but nothing had been confirmed or denied by police.
For Ffion Headley that was good enough for her. Everyone was talking about him. About them – The Three. When she checked her Facebook and Twitter accounts it appeared that most people up and down the UK believed everything as it unfolded. He was dead. Most people also thought it
was good news.
As to be expected, there were a few who bleated on about Knox’s human rights. #Pray4Knox, for instance, got Ffion’s blood boiling.
She sniffed in contempt at these people. What about her human rights? Knox had taken hers away when she was barely nineteen years old.
Fifteen years on, her scars were still raw.
Raja
Everyone she knew – even ones she didn’t, for that matter – had been baying for Knox’s blood. She’d taken comfort in that.
Raja Clarkson sipped her wine carefully as if the scars on her face could still open and spill blood even after fifteen years.
She stared at the television screen ahead of her, not really feeling anything inside. Her eyes stayed on the screen but didn’t even flicker, as if she was there in body but not in spirit.
‘He’s dead,’ she said to herself. ‘Why don’t I feel anything? Shouldn’t I feel something? Anything?’
Inside there was nothing.
Sophie
In her room, Sophie was wide awake. She wasn’t a fool; no matter how much her parents tried, they couldn’t shield her from something like this. She was a woman now. Thirty-one, but what kind of life did she have to show for it so far?
She’d seen the internet.
If Knox was dead, what did that mean for her?
Not a lot, she realised. Her life – if you could call it that – had been fifteen years of hell.
She heard her mother climb the stairs. She knew it was her mother because of the softness of the footfalls.
Sophie had taught herself to notice the small things, the things others didn’t even think of. She’d been caught out once all those years ago.
She blinked away the memory of that dark place he’d taken her. She tried to forget the smell of his van.
Yes, she’d been caught out once – never again.
CHAPTER 8
1st April
‘It’s not a bloody April Fool’s… This is real.’
Claire leaned against the wall in the corridor, staring into the dark eyes of Detective Superintendent Clifton Donahue. ‘It’s him,’ Claire said. ‘I’m going to need as many resources as we can spare.’
Donahue’s tall frame loomed over hers as he scratched the back of his head. His silver-grey hair appeared lighter under the fluorescent overhead lights.
‘How much sleep have you actually had? Have you even been home since you came in yesterday afternoon?’
She waved her hand, and he took it as his cue not to push anything.
‘What’s your thinking on this? Stranger killing?’
‘Hard to say. It’s a reasonable theory that it’s someone who didn’t know Knox personally, just knew who he was after he was caught and jailed.’ She paused. ‘Or someone who managed to track him on his release. As I said, rumours of his real release date might have been leaked by someone.’
He frowned, wary of thinking one of their own might have been involved. ‘If it was a leak it could’ve come from anyone involved with Knox. The prison, probation…’ Donahue mouthed a curse word to himself. ‘Security was tight, wasn’t it?’
Claire shrugged. ‘If someone was serious enough, there’s always a way to find a person.’
Donahue bit his lower lip, processing what she’d just said. ‘We’ve already started to organise a press conference. It could be as early as this evening.’
Claire paused. ‘Knox isn’t even cold yet. We need his father to formally identify him after the PM and that’s not due to happen until tomorrow afternoon. I can ask Danika to try and make it earlier but… we’re all really stretched here, Cliff.’
He nodded, but countered her argument anyway. ‘We need to put something out there to the media, even if the information we have is limited. This isn’t something we can keep quiet about for a few days. I never said it’d be easy.’
‘We can’t rush this. We can’t hinder the investigation by allowing social media to force our hand… this was Raymond Knox, Sir,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You know the media and the public are going to be watching us like hawks. They think this is true justice.’ She paused and looked him hard in the face. ‘Personal feelings aside, the last thing we want is vigilante-style street mobs out looking for newly released scumbags.’
Donahue nodded his agreement but didn’t say anything at first. He began turning the wedding band on his finger unconsciously. ‘You’re going to think I’m passing you a hot potato here, but I want you to lead the press conference.’
Claire bristled. ‘Why?’ She stopped leaning against the wall, straightening herself up. ‘Something this big, you’ve always led.’
‘You’re more than capable, Claire, you know that.’
‘You always said I let my personal feelings creep in, come across on camera.’
‘You’re going to think I sound sexist when I say this…’
‘Oh, here we go.’
‘You’re a woman. People will relate to you better considering what Knox did.’
She stared at him in disbelief. ‘I’m not the victim here, Cliff. The women Knox attacked are.’
‘In the eyes of the law, Raymond Knox is, too.’
He cast her a glare when he saw her reaction.
‘You see,’ she said. ‘My personal feelings are just written all over my face.’
Donahue held up his hands in front of him. ‘Hear me out,’ he said, and opened the door to a small, empty office. Once inside, he shut the door behind them. ‘Knox was an animal, no question about that, and in the grand scheme of things, whoever killed him, quite frankly, has my gratitude, but as far as the system goes, people can’t take matters into their own hands.’
Claire folded her arms again. ‘Cut the bullshit, Cliff. Why me?’
‘Simply put, I don’t want the media dragging us through the headlines because we’re being seen to be sympathising with Knox. I think you’re best placed to sway the feelings of the media.’
‘You want me to show the public that we’re on their side but, reluctantly, we have to find this killer, lock him behind bars.’
Donahue nodded. ‘Without being so obvious about it, though. It has to remain unspoken.’
Claire sighed and avoided his eyes.
‘It’s got to be subtle,’ he added. Claire’s eyes snapped back to his and he gave a wry smile. ‘You might want to work on that part.’
‘Jesus Christ…’
‘No bull-in-a-china-shop crap.’
‘I’m not a bloody actress, Cliff.’
‘You’re a woman; you’ve got all the training you need already.’ When Claire’s mouth opened to protest, he cut her off. ‘This isn’t negotiable,’ he said, voice rising a notch. A tone Claire knew all too well, meaning shut the hell up in layman’s terms.
After a few seconds passed she nodded.
She made to leave and Donahue cleared his throat as he held the door open for her. ‘How was the holiday in Scotland?’
Claire detected an air of trepidation in his voice. ‘Why is everyone walking on eggshells when they ask me that?’
‘Can’t imagine,’ he said.
‘I was away for two days, hardly a holiday,’ she called back over her shoulder as she headed towards CID. ‘It was wet, windy and cold but where I was staying was nice enough.’ She stopped in her tracks, hand pressed against the incident-room door. She held his gaze, as he followed her.
‘Don’t worry about me, Cliff. I buried what needed burying.’ She let the words hang there, realised the symbolism, and smiled a little. ‘I don’t think I ever did thank you properly for the support you gave me after…’
Donahue gave a curt nod.
Despite knowing each other for a number of years, with a deep mutual respect for each other, and although they had clashed in the past, Claire and Donahue always kept their relationship professional.
‘I know how hard it must have been for you – going back there, I mean.’
Claire nodded. ‘As far as I can remember, life with my father was hard.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘He was just keeping up with tradition when he did what he did.’
With that, she pushed the door open, well and truly shutting down the subject she had no time to dwell on.
CHAPTER 9
It was six in the morning and the incident room was crammed full of people, the air stagnant with the faint twist of sweat. Looking at her team, Claire wondered if they’d all just rolled out of bed, all bleary-eyed, bodies protesting.
The general feeling was clear. No one wanted to capture a person, who, off the record, everyone thought was a bloody hero.
Claire and her team had seen it before. Someone with great responsibility deems a dangerous criminal fit enough to be integrated back into society. In Claire’s mind it was like a ticking time-bomb in a lot of cases. There was a high rate of reoffending. With relationships between the police and the wider community somewhat strained at times, this type of thing only intensified the hatred of those whose job it was to keep the public safe.
It was Claire’s job to catch the criminals. When someone like Knox was released back into society, she sometimes found herself questioning her job. She felt like she’d failed even though it was a decision out of her own hands.
This time it was different and it made her more than restless.
Someone had taken Knox out.
This person was a hero in the view of the general public and this was what was so dangerous. Claire had to get this right, no room for mistakes, general human error. She didn’t want others to start picking off sex offenders or violent criminals. This whole mess could escalate, and fast.
‘Perhaps we should have an official holiday.’
Claire turned to see Detective Inspector David Matthews standing close to her. ‘What are you on about?’
‘It’s a good day for justice and all that shiz,’ he said, smiling.
‘It’s too early for your shit jokes, Matthews.’
Claire had just got off the phone to Danika, the pathologist, and by some small miracle, managed to get Knox’s PM scheduled for late that same afternoon. That meant she had a lot to squeeze in before that. Consequently, she was in no mood for jokes.
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