The Essence of Evil

by The Essence of Evil (retail) (epub)

  I cry myself to sleep every night, and every time I wake I've just relived the moment my deranged twin brother tried to kill me once again.

  With no end in sight to this pain and suffering, I just don’t know where I can go from here.

  Was I really worth saving, for this?

  Chapter Five

  Dani and Fletcher walked side by side through HQ. The well-worn corridors were a world away from the brand spanking new foyer, and, as in the past, were pervaded by a musty smell that Dani knew well but couldn’t describe. Despite the familiar territory, it felt anything but a usual day, and Dani felt not only alienated but disorientated too by the clash of familiar and unfamiliar.

  When she moved through into the open-plan space used by the Homicide team on Force CID, Dani tensed up. She looked around the room, at the faces. A lot of people paid her no attention at all. Some smiled and greeted her, like they would a long-lost friend. Others simply looked on with curious fascination at the copper back from the dead.

  Some of the people Dani didn’t recognise, most she did. Especially the man who stood up at his desk and stared over at her expectantly. Jason. He smiled, and opened his mouth to speak, but Dani, feeling her heart lurch, turned away from him and carried on to DCI McNair’s office with her head down. She cursed herself inwardly for acting like such a schoolgirl, but she’d realised as soon as her eyes met Jason’s that she really wasn’t prepared for that conversation yet. Today was tough enough already.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later Dani was sitting in McNair’s office on the fourth floor of HQ, looking out at a new, gleaming glass office block above Snowhill Station. Where had that sprung from?

  The door opened and McNair came into the room. HQ and the buildings around it may have changed but McNair had somehow found herself stuck in a time warp. She looked the same now to Dani as she had ten years ago when they’d first met: a smart but not exactly tailored blue suit, short grey hair, droopy eyelids that hid otherwise beady eyes, and a forehead with lines that deepened whenever her temperature rose. Which was often.

  Dani had never had a big problem with her hard-nosed boss. The way Dani saw it, McNair’s often fiery temperament was something of a necessity. McNair, now in her early fifties, had joined the force when it was a different beast. In those days the only way for a female officer to be taken seriously and get ahead was to be a ruthless ball-buster; to be not as hard as the men, but harder. Times had moved on, thankfully, and now more and more female officers were taking senior positions, though in many ways the male-centric atmosphere remained.

  Dani had never seen herself as a McNair apprentice, a future ball-buster, though she knew many of her male – and some female – colleagues had previously believed that to be the case, largely due to the fact that she’d been so career focused and one of the youngest DIs on the force when first promoted. Plus she was unmarried, despite being closer to forty now than to thirty. Clearly there must be something seriously wrong with any such woman. Or she must be a lesbian. That was the other common idiotic assumption that Dani had endured over the years – not helped by the fact that she drank beer and watched sport. The truth was that she’d been too focused on her career to have met a decent man to settle down with. Until Jason. But look at how that had turned out.

  McNair came forwards and Dani got to her feet and shook her boss’s hand.

  ‘DI Stephens, it’s good to have you back,’ McNair said, her face betraying no emotion as she went around her desk and sat back down.

  ‘It feels good to be back, ma’am,’ Dani said, cringing inwardly at her use of the formal title, which was becoming less and less common. She herself hated it when others addressed her as ma’am, it made her feel like a batty old woman.

  ‘And I’m sure there are plenty on the team who will be glad to see you’ve returned.’

  Dani noticed a twinkle in McNair’s eye. Was she talking about Jason? Or maybe Dani was reading too much into her words.

  ‘Take a seat.’

  Dani did so and noticed McNair’s eyes narrowing as she inspected Dani, as though weighing up whether or not she approved of what she saw. Dani looked away and around the sparse office. There were no picture frames, or knick-knacks, or personal effects of any kind. Just shelves crammed with ring binders and books about good policing and other such theory. Two large aerial shots of Birmingham hung on the walls.

  ‘I’m sure it’s been a hell of a time for you,’ McNair said.

  ‘Not the best two years of my life, that’s for sure. But I’m back. And I just want you to treat me like anyone else.’

  ‘Of course,’ McNair said, though the unease on her face suggested something different. ‘You’ll fit right back in here, no problems.’

  ‘I’m sure I will too.’

  ‘I know you’ve been cleared by the…’

  ‘Shrink?’

  ‘Well, that wasn’t the word I would have used. I know you’ve been cleared by the shrink, but I want to hear it from you too.’

  ‘I’m fine. Really. The amount of meds they’ve got me on I’m virtually indestructible.’

  Dani laughed nervously. McNair didn’t even flinch. Dani wondered whether her words had been the wisest. Would the higher powers look upon her ongoing medication with raised eyebrows?

  ‘I’m guessing you think I’m ready too, otherwise you wouldn’t have been calling me so early this morning,’ Dani said.

  Thinking again about how Fletcher was involved in the Jane Doe case, though, she wondered whether perhaps McNair didn’t really think she was quite ready after all. Should she ask about that?

  McNair held Dani’s gaze until Dani looked away, out of the window.

  ‘Is there anything I need to know?’ McNair asked.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About… you know. Traumatic brain injury. Any precautions we need to take, any—’

  Dani had never seen McNair look so uncomfortable. Like a mother trying to explain sex to a teenage son.

  ‘All you need to know is that I’m here.’

  ‘I understand TBI is something that people rarely fully recover from, I—’

  ‘I don’t need, or want any special treatment,’ Dani said, realising she sounded as irritated as she felt. ‘Please. I just want to get my life back.’

  McNair held Dani’s eye for a few seconds before giving a slight nod. Then she reached down to a drawer and took out some papers. She pushed the small bundle across the desk.

  ‘You could say it’s good timing. You probably noticed Fletcher is pregnant.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘She’s only got two weeks until she goes on leave.’

  Which would likely place her at way more than five or six months, Dani decided, despite the still manageable looking bump.

  ‘To ease you back in I’ve teamed you with Fletcher. You’ll be joint SIO on some of her recent open cases.’

  ‘And today’s Jane Doe? Given it’s a new case, I thought—’

  ‘Yes, that too. We need to ease you back in. Fletcher is good enough and smart enough to give you the space you need.’

  Dani found herself nodding. As imperfect as the tag team sounded, it was clear McNair had already decided on it, so it would be useless to try and persuade her otherwise.

  ‘Fletcher will give you the lowdown on the cases. I’ll also be assigning some of her workload to DI Barnes.’

  ‘DI?’

  McNair nodded in confirmation.

  DI Barnes. Jason. He’d been barely a DS when Dani had first been promoted to Detective Inspector. They’d worked closely together for years, Dani as Jason’s supervisor. They’d been an item for six months when she’d been hospitalised. Even though she’d not seen or spoken to him in months now, how could she not even know he’d been promoted? She wasn’t sure whether she was more angry at him or at herself for not knowing.

  Now, as a DI, Jason was her peer. She should have been happy for him. He was a decent guy and good at his job. No, he was gr
eat at his job. For some reason though, Dani felt a little betrayed. By Jason or by McNair, she wasn't sure. It riled her that the world had moved on so quickly while she was stuck in place. A dark place at that.

  At one time she’d been the rising star on Force CID. Not anymore, it seemed.

  ‘Tell me what you know from this morning.’

  Dani did so, giving both the facts, and also the hypothesis of the young victim having been kidnapped and held hostage before escaping. McNair said nothing as Dani talked.

  ‘So what next?’ McNair said when Dani had finished.

  ‘We’ll know more when the post-mortem is completed, and when the local searches are done. Forensics will take a while longer. In the meantime we need to get working on identifying the victim.’

  ‘I agree. We’ll organise a press conference, probably for later today, to hopefully get some leads.’

  ‘We should also pay a visit to Missing Persons.’

  ‘I’ll leave that to you,’ McNair said.

  An awkward silence followed and Dani wondered if she was missing something.

  ‘Anything else?’ McNair prompted.

  ‘No. I’ll keep you posted.’

  Dani got to her feet and headed for the door.

  ‘Oh, and DI Stephens.’

  Dani stopped at the door.

  ‘I’m glad you’re… ok.’

  Dani said nothing to that.

  Chapter Six

  The knock on Grant’s office door came a few seconds before a minute past twelve. ‘Keen’ didn’t quite do justice to Jessica Bradford’s level of enthusiasm, it seemed. Grant pushed the clutter of papers off his desk, stuffed them into a drawer and got up from his chair. He walked across his meagre office that was only just big enough for the battered pine desk, two chairs and one bookcase. He opened the door and there was Jessica, with her chaperone once more. The friend looked Grant up and down, an air of hostility about her.

  ‘I guess I’ll see you later then, Jess,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll call you when I’m done. We’ll get lunch.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Her friend – Grant had no idea of her name – sauntered off, leaving Grant feeling like a fifteen-year-old boy who’d just been scrutinised by a crush’s mate. At least he’d passed the test, it seemed.

  ‘Come in,’ Grant said.

  Jessica walked into his office, and he shut the door behind her and indicated the seat in front of his desk.

  ‘So what can I do for you?’ he said, walking around the desk and taking his own seat.

  ‘I had an idea for what I want my thesis to be about. I thought maybe we could discuss the concept.’

  ‘It’s very early to be thinking about that, Jessica.’ He noticed a flash of unease on her face at him quashing her enthusiasm. ‘But it’s good that you’re so keen. So what’s it about?’

  ‘Murder.’

  Grant felt himself tighten up, though he should have guessed this would be the case.

  ‘That’s a pretty wide subject.’

  ‘Well, not just murder. I want to really challenge the common thinking of what makes a person take another’s life.’

  ‘Nature versus nurture?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess.’

  ‘That’s a pretty vast subject too.’

  ‘I know, of course it is. The debate has been going on for… like, ever.’

  ‘So what’s your take going to be?’

  ‘I want to explore whether some people really are just born that way.’

  Grant nodded, though he was having a hard time figuring how her ‘take’ on the subject was in any way intriguing or different.

  ‘Are there some people,’ she said, ‘who, no matter what their upbringing, what happens to them in life, would still end up as killers?’

  ‘I’d say that happens a lot,’ Grant said. ‘Many murders are simple crimes of passion. Seemingly normal and otherwise law-abiding citizens flip.’

  ‘No, that’s not what I’m getting at. Those sorts of murders are caused by pressure, and they are usually just one act, at one time. What about people who have no pressure? No motivation like revenge or hate, or even any other real causal factors?’

  Grant interlaced his fingers and sat back in his seat while he studied Jessica for a few moments. She held his gaze the whole time.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ Grant asked.

  ‘I really don’t know. I don’t know the subject as well as you do yet. But I was hoping you could help me. Teach me.’

  ‘Do you want to know what I think, or what I’d be prepared to write down in a scientific paper? The two answers might be surprisingly different.’

  Jessica looked slightly put out by that response.

  ‘What you really think,’ she said.

  ‘Ok,’ he said. ‘There are eight billion people in this world. Many more billions have lived and died here. Every single one of those billions is different in some way. Different DNA, different geography, different language, different culture, different upbringing, different experiences. There are infinite possibilities therefore as to how each person will turn out. And really, while as psychologists or criminologists or sociologists we love to put each one of those people into brackets, into defined groups with defined characteristics, I’m just not sure that it can work in every single case.’

  Jessica looked at him quizzically like she wasn’t quite sure of his point.

  ‘So you do think some people are just inherently bad right from the start, no matter what?’ she said.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Do you know of anyone who you’d put into that bracket then?’

  Grant thought again.

  ‘Dennis Nilsen, perhaps?’ Jessica prompted.

  Grant raised an eyebrow. He was impressed with Jessica’s knowledge. Though he wasn’t sure ‘impressed’ was really the right reaction to a young student who took a fascination with serial killers.

  Nilsen was one of the UK’s most infamous murderers, convicted in the 1980s of murdering six men, but believed to have killed many more. And he hadn’t just killed, but had performed rituals with the bodies. For days and weeks after death he bathed them, dressed them and did who knows what else before eventually dissecting them and disposing of the remains.

  ‘Apparently,’ Jessica said, ‘in one of the interviews after he was arrested, when he was asked about why he’d murdered the men—’

  ‘He said, “I’m hoping you will tell me that”.’

  Jessica smiled. ‘And he also spoke about how he felt no thrill or happiness in killing people. He wasn’t doing it for kicks. He simply felt compelled to murder. So don’t you think he fits the mould of a born killer?’

  ‘In many ways I’m absolutely sure he does,’ Grant said. ‘His crimes were abhorrent, and even he couldn’t justify them in any logical way. But, I think there were still triggers in his life that made him like that. I’m not sure he was born that way.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Such as bereavement when his grandfather passed when he was a child. His closet homosexuality which, in that day and age, left him isolated and resentful. If you read his interviews with the police you can see how his sexuality severely damaged his ability to generate what we would consider normal and healthy relationships with others, both sexual and non-sexual.’

  Jessica looked slightly disappointed again, not because she disagreed with Grant but because he’d so easily knocked back her suggestion.

  ‘Although,’ said Grant, ‘you have to be wary of analysing these people with hindsight. It’s easy to look for the faults and the triggers in their past and put two and two together. Which then clouds the issue of whether they really were born killers, inherently evil, or if environmental factors led them to kill. It’s a difficult subject to analyse.’

  ‘But you did say you believed such born killers exist.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘But you have no proof? You don’t know of anyone who fits that profile?’

  Gr
ant looked away and thought about that question for a good while.

  ‘No,’ he said, eventually. ‘But that doesn’t mean they aren’t out there.’

  He noticed a look of disquiet on Jessica’s face. He sensed she was about to say something else, but then his phone jumped up and down on the desk. He grabbed it and glanced at the screen.

  ‘Sorry, I’ve got to take this,’ he said. He got up from the desk and turned and walked to the window, looking out over the car park below. ‘Hi,’ Grant said as he accepted the call.

  Mary, Grant’s wife, didn’t say anything and for a couple of seconds he thought her call had already gone through to voicemail. But then the sound of breathing came down the line.

  ‘Mary, what’s wrong?’ he said.

  ‘Steven, please come home. I really need you. It’s Ethan.’

  ‘What’s he done now?’ Grant said through gritted teeth, already feeling anger rise.

  He turned and saw Jessica staring. She quickly looked away.

  ‘Please, can you just come home?’

  ‘Ok. I’m on my way.’

  Chapter Seven

  Dani checked her watch. Time to go. She got up from her desk and packed up her things, keeping her head down as she did so. Since she had arrived, one or two of her colleagues had come over to say hi, but she’d deliberately kept the conversations to the point, and hadn’t yet built up the courage to properly chat to anyone. Now she just wanted to get out to her next appointment at Missing Persons.

  As she made a beeline for the exit she sensed the approach from her right. She was glad when she looked up and saw it was Fletcher, not Jason.

  ‘You’re off to Harborne?’ Fletcher asked.

  ‘Yeah. How—’

  ‘McNair mentioned it.’

  Dani resisted rolling her eyes.

  ‘I can come with you, if you like.’

  No. That really wasn’t what Dani wanted at all. She didn’t need a chaperone, or a watcher, or a helping hand. She just wanted to be left alone. No, more than that, she wanted to prove herself, if she was just given the space. But she also didn’t want to ruffle feathers so soon after her return.