He wasn’t sure, but he thought she was probably dead before she slipped from his grasp and vanished beneath the surface of the canal. His disappointment had been fleeting. He had waited for a few moments in case she rose to the surface, thrashing and flailing her arms, but the water had remained still, as far as he could see in the darkness, and there had been no sound of splashing or crying out. Satisfied she was dead, whether shot or drowned, he had left feeling somehow cheated at not having watched her die. Still, she had been a member of the class he was targeting, so her death would help intensify the atmosphere of terror he was building. And he now had a gun. That alone made her death worthwhile. All in all, it had been a very satisfactory night’s work. And it wouldn’t be the last.
36
The next morning Geraldine overslept and arrived at work just after the daily briefing began. Cursing under her breath, she slipped into the incident room. With a third death connected to the other two the team had grown, with officers drafted in from surrounding forces. When Geraldine entered the crowded room everyone else was facing away from her, towards Eileen. The detective chief inspector herself was looking down at a document. When she had been working for the Met as an inspector, Geraldine couldn’t have arrived late at a meeting without anyone noticing. As one of several sergeants, she was easily overlooked. For once, the anonymity of her position worked in her favour.
‘It’s completely different,’ Eileen was saying. ‘Stephanie and Peter were stabbed. Bethany died from a gunshot wound. The third incident was completely different to the other two. Where’s the evidence that her death was connected to the other two?’
They all knew the detective chief inspector was desperately trying to convince herself they weren’t investigating a third murder by the same killer. If they were, this would no longer officially be a double murder case, but a hunt for a serial killer, as the media were already claiming.
‘They were in the same class at school,’ Geraldine answered Eileen’s rhetorical question.
‘Yes, yes, we’ve established that,’ Eileen cut in impatiently. ‘And so were a few dozen other people. But there’s nothing else about this third death that links it to the other two.’
‘It has to be significant that they were together at school,’ Geraldine insisted. ‘They were in the same class at school, and now they’re all dead. We can’t just ignore the connection.’
She went on to report that she had learned nothing new from Robin or Ned, other than Robin mentioning the nasty caretaker. As all the former staff were being checked, that was already covered.
Ian joined in the discussion. ‘What about the evidence of the killer’s DNA we found on Stephanie?’
None had been found on either of the other victims.
‘There was probably no time for Bethany to attempt to defend herself before she was shot,’ Geraldine said.
It was a fair point, but Eileen remained adamant that they had to remain open to the possibility that Bethany might not have been killed by the same person. ‘We’re looking for hard evidence, not circumstantial speculation. Why would this killer suddenly start shooting? The previous victims were both stabbed.’
‘Maybe he’s only just got his hands on a gun.’
It was a chilling suggestion. There was a brief silence while everyone considered the horrific implications of this idea. When it was time to allocate responsibilities, Eileen asked Geraldine to question Leah again. As Bethany’s flatmate she must have some idea about where the latest victim was likely to have gone the night she died, and Geraldine had already spoken to her several times.
‘She’s more likely to trust a familiar face,’ Eileen said.
Geraldine wasn’t convinced the detective chief inspector was right in this instance, but she was pleased with the task she had been given. Her only consolation for having been demoted was that she could spend less time sitting at her desk worrying about budgets and expenses claims, and more time playing an active role in the investigation. Despite having a sample of his DNA, they were still no closer to finding the killer. All they knew was that he was Caucasian, with dark hair and brown eyes. The need to close the case was growing more urgent with every passing hour. Everyone on the team was concerned about the reaction from the public when news of the shooting spread. There was no way they could keep it quiet.
‘At least the shooting means the media can’t start banging on about this being the work of a serial killer,’ Eileen said.
Geraldine glanced at Ian and raised her eyebrows a fraction. He looked away almost at once, but she knew he had registered her scepticism. As an experienced officer, Eileen was well aware that the media could be cavalier with facts when it came to composing a story. And once one media outlet started broadcasting news of a serial killer, they would all rush to join in.
As the team dispersed after the briefing, Ian approached Geraldine.
‘Had a wild night?’ he asked quietly.
For a second she didn’t understand what he meant, then she realised he had seen her arriving late.
‘I suppose an early night with a mug of cocoa counts as wild when you get to my age,’ she grinned with an impulsive wink.
He gazed at her with such a severe expression she thought he was going to reprimand her. As his inspector, she had been his mentor back when he had been a new sergeant. Now that he had become her superior officer he had every right to pull rank on her, but the prospect that he might do so was painful. Before she had moved to York she had regarded him as one of her closest friends. They had known one another for a long time and had formed what she had considered a strong bond during their working partnership in Kent. It seemed now that he hadn’t shared that opinion. Gregarious by nature, his relationship with her was apparently unimportant to him, while he had played a significant role in her life.
‘I suppose that depends what you put in your cocoa,’ he replied and she laughed, hugely relieved by his feeble quip. ‘Blimey, if you think that’s funny, I should try out some of my jokes on you,’ he said.
Eileen called a press conference in a vain attempt to scotch any rumours that the three murders had been carried out by the same killer. Predictably, when she was asked whether Stephanie Crawford, Peter Edwards and Bethany Carr were all victims of the same killer, she had to resort to fudging her answers. Her responses, ‘There is no evidence to suggest that is the case’, and ‘We have reason to believe the murders are in no way all related’, only fuelled further claims that the ‘Slasher’ had got hold of a gun. Initially dubbed ‘The Yorkshire Slasher’, Bethany’s shooting had cranked up the hyperbole, but the tag stuck. ‘Yorkshire Slasher in Sharp Shooting’ was one hysterical headline, and a local paper ran the more succinct but equally alliterative headline: ‘Slasher Shoots’. All the news items concluded by criticising the police for failing to apprehend the killer.
In a way it was unfortunate, as the public inevitably found reports of a double murder less disturbing than reports of a serial killer. Still, the police couldn’t really blame reporters for milking the situation. In any case it could hardly make matters much worse. They already knew they were hunting for a man who had killed three times in less than two weeks, and was almost certain to kill again unless he was stopped.
37
Leah munched on a crisp and stared miserably at the others.
‘I don’t understand why you insisted we all come over here again this evening,’ Ned said, sitting down and stretching out his long legs.
‘You know I’ve left my family to come here,’ Robin chimed in.
Both men were clearly disgruntled. Ashley, who had reluctantly agreed to accept a lift from Robin, looked resigned.
‘So what’s the big panic?’ Ned asked.
Reaching for another crisp, Leah burst into tears, her face turning puffy and red. ‘You don’t understand,’ she wailed. ‘Why won’t anyone listen to me?’
Ashley rolled her eyes. ‘We are listening. But you haven’t said anything. What’s your problem?’
Leah’s face turned a darker shade of red. ‘What’s my problem?’ she spluttered, ‘What’s my problem? Are you seriously asking me what my problem is?’ She became incoherent in her sobbing.
‘Leah, what’s wrong with you?’ Robin demanded impatiently. He and Ned exchanged irritated glances.
‘Three of our classmates have been murdered and you’re asking me what’s wrong? You know very well what’s wrong. You were sharing a flat with Stephanie, Ashley. How can you sit there and pretend you don’t know what’s wrong? You all know what’s wrong as well as I do. What isn’t wrong?’
Ashley shrugged helplessly at the two men before answering. ‘Listen, Leah, we’re all upset about what happened, of course we are. You’re not the only one with feelings, you know. Stephanie was my best friend.’ Her voice wobbled and she paused, then continued firmly. ‘But we can’t do anything about it. We just have to hope the police find out who killed them. There’s nothing else we can do. And in the meantime I see no point in the four of us getting together to talk about what’s happened. Talking won’t bring them back.’
Robin glanced at his watch and stirred in his seat. ‘Ashley’s right. What’s the point in our coming here? Anyway I need to get home soon.’
Leah shook her head and flapped her hands in the air, unable to speak for a moment.
‘Oh for heaven’s sake,’ Robin burst out. ‘If you’ve got something to say, just spit it out.’
Leah gulped. The others waited for her to regain her composure sufficiently to speak. At last she stopped crying, dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, and sniffed several times.
‘It’s not just that I’m upset about Stephanie and the other two. Of course I am, but there’s more to it than that. I’m scared. The thing is, three people who were at school with us have been murdered. Hasn’t it occurred to you that someone’s out to get the people who were in our class? Someone wants us all dead.’ She gave a sob and gulped, biting her bottom lip. ‘Any one of us could be next.’ She looked at the others.
‘Oh, for goodness sake,’ Robin said. ‘You’ve been watching too many teenage horror films.’
Ned frowned. ‘What’s happened to make you think their deaths have got anything to do with us?’
‘Oh, only three people who were in our class have been murdered. That’s all that’s happened.’
Ashley frowned. ‘Leah, I get it that you’re upset, but there’s no reason why any of us should feel threatened. The murders weren’t carried out in the same place. Steph was killed in York, Peter was out in the countryside, and Beth was right here in Uppermill.’
Leah gazed anxiously at them. ‘It’s not just that,’ she said in a low voice, barely louder than a whisper. ‘I’m being stalked.’
While Robin muttered sceptically about ‘hysterical bollocks’, Ashley and Ned looked anxiously at Leah.
‘What makes you think that?’ Ashley asked.
‘I don’t just think I’m being stalked. It’s happening.’ In a trembling voice Leah described seeing a man on the street outside her flat.
‘A man in the street?’ Robin repeated in a dismissive tone. ‘I dare say there are often men in the street. So bloody what?’
‘You can try and brush it off, but he was watching me, I know he was. And I’ll tell you another thing. One minute he was there, and the next minute he was gone. Vanished into thin air.’
‘The invisible man,’ Robin sniggered.
‘You can laugh, but I know he was there. I could sense him!’
‘It does sound as though you’re imagining it,’ Ashley told her, not unkindly. ‘It’s understandable. We’re all on edge with everything that’s been going on. But if you’re really being stalked you should go to the police.’
‘I can’t.’
Ned frowned. ‘This is getting silly. Listen, why on earth would anyone think Beth’s death wasn’t an accident? She must have gone for a walk down by the canal and fallen in. Maybe she slipped on a patch of ice…’
Leah interrupted him. ‘Beth would never have gone off for a walk by herself in the dark, not with a killer on the loose. We were scared.’
‘You’re scared,’ Robin said. ‘It doesn’t mean she was. You’re not scared, are you, Ashley?’
‘If she’d gone anywhere, Beth would have gone to the pub. It was freezing outside,’ Leah insisted. ‘She wouldn’t have gone out for a walk along the canal. It was dark. No, someone took her there deliberately and killed her.’
‘Well, it wasn’t the same killer because according to the news, Beth was shot,’ Robin said. ‘They’re hardly going to make that up.’
‘So it wasn’t an accident,’ Ned said. ‘But if she was shot, it means it wasn’t the same killer.’
‘Exactly,’ Robin agreed. ‘It’s not the same killer because Stephanie and Peter were stabbed. Think about it, if it’s the same killer, and he has a gun, why would he wait until now to use it?’
‘Maybe he didn’t have a gun when he stabbed them,’ Leah suggested.
‘Oh, and suddenly he does. Very convenient. And very unlikely,’ Robin said. ‘He just happened to get hold of a gun without anyone knowing. I don’t think so!’
Leah cleared her throat. She looked nervous. ‘It might sound unbelievable, but it could be true.’
‘Oh please, let’s not get carried away,’ Robin replied. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell us next that you handed the killer a gun yourself?’
Leah’s face flushed with anger at his derogatory tone. ‘In a way, yes, I did,’ she answered with a flash of defiance.
‘Oh stop talking rot,’ he snapped.
The others stared in disbelief as Leah blurted out that she had got hold of a gun, for protection, and Bethany had run off with it the night she was killed.
‘She didn’t want it in the flat. She was afraid it might go off. She said she’d be scared to get up at night in case I mistook her for an intruder.’ She broke off, tears welling up in her eyes. ‘We argued about it. Then, on Sunday evening, while I was in the shower she went out, and when I went in my room the gun had gone. She took it and – and she never came back, because… because that was the night…’
For a moment no one spoke as the others registered the significance of what they had just heard.
At last, Robin spoke. ‘Oh my God, you’re telling us it’s the same killer, only now he’s got a gun?’
‘I can’t believe you didn’t go straight to the police,’ Ashley added, horrified.
‘No, no,’ Leah burst out, ‘they mustn’t know. Promise me you won’t tell them. Don’t say anything to anyone, please.’
While the others were in agreement that she ought to tell the police, Leah remained adamant she wasn’t going to do that.
‘I had the gun illegally. If the police find out about it I’ll be in serious trouble.’ She glared around the room. ‘So don’t try and split on me, because if you do I’ll say I was lying and made it up to impress you.’
‘Well, you have to tell them,’ Robin announced. ‘This puts a different complexion on everything. Like you say, that’s three of our class killed, and we now know the killer has a gun. We need protecting. I’ve got a family. They could be at risk.’ He stood up, his stocky figure looking slight beside Leah’s. ‘You’ve got to tell them.’
‘There’s no way I’m going to the police…’
Robin was already making for the door.
‘Robin’s right,’ Ashley said uncertainly as she too stood up. ‘The police will know what to do. We have to tell them everything we can, and then let them sort it out.’
Ned had offered to give Ashley a lift to the station and the two of them followed Robin out of the flat, leaving Leah on her own.
38
‘I want you to be really c
areful, Katie,’ Robin said, trying to sound serious yet calm. ‘Promise me you’ll be careful.’
The last thing he wanted to do was worry his young wife, but he had to impress on her how important this was. He paced across the living room, watching with growing irritation as she picked up the baby and chattered to it.
‘Promise me you’ll be careful,’ he repeated, determined to make her listen to him.
‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,’ she replied. ‘How can I be more careful?’
He flung himself down on the sofa beside her. ‘Look, I’m not trying to worry you…’
‘Well, thanks very much. Rob, what are you talking about?’
‘Listen, love, you know there have been three murders in the area recently?’
He paused, feeling helpless. It was difficult to know what to say.
‘Yes, I know. It’s been in the news.’
‘Well, the murderer hasn’t been caught.’
‘So what? The murders weren’t all around here. Yorkshire is a big place.’ She turned back to the baby.
‘Listen to me,’ Robin insisted. ‘This is serious. There’s a dangerous killer on the loose…’
‘Oh for goodness sake. Listen to yourself. You sound like Mel.’
‘Who’s Mel?’
‘You know, Melinda, from the antenatal class. She’s always making a drama out of something. It’s like she’s got some sort of anxiety disorder, what do they call it? Anyway, she’s worried about the recent murders, but honestly, these things go on all the time. The media love it. They make a whole hoo-ha about it. And Mel tells us all about it in great detail. But so what? It’s got nothing to do with us. She ought to stop fussing about what’s going on in the news and focus on looking after her child.’
Class Murder Page 17