With Deadly Intent

by Richardson, K. A.

  Striding over to her, Alex said, ‘We landed Nigel again. He should be here in about twenty minutes. Tell me what we have so far.’

  Cass filled him in and added that she would need several officers to help with holding the coffin once Nigel arrived. First, she wanted it moving onto a plastic sheet to prevent any evidence being lost when they opened the lid.

  It took four strong men and some major manoeuvring to get the coffin safely onto the wrap and they had only just finished when Nigel strode through the tent opening.

  ‘Three, Cass? You doing this just to keep me busy? I’ve barely got all the results back from the old guy.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ groaned Cass. ‘Oh how I long for a quiet shift. This one’s pretty awful Nigel. Poor kid was put in a coffin and electrocuted. Hell of a way to go.’

  ‘You’re not wrong. A current strong enough to kill takes a little time. First the muscles contract, causing severe pain and sometimes breaking bones. This causes the blood pressure to skyrocket, which can cause the heart and other organs to rupture. Even the brain can haemorrhage. Definitely not a nice way to go. Who found the body?’

  ‘His girlfriend. She’s at the hospital. Shock.’

  Nigel nodded thoughtfully. ‘Understandable. She’ll need some form of counselling I would imagine.’

  ‘We moved the coffin onto a plastic sheet and laid it down, so it’s all ready just to open and begin.’

  28th October, 1005 hours – Seaburn Seafront, Sunderland

  He was sitting on a bench on the promenade not far from the vacant lot, his hands curled round a now cold cup of tea as he watched the police activity, the now regular frown on his face. He had to be careful – there was a slim chance one of his colleagues would recognise him, through his old-man-inspired disguise.

  But he had to watch.

  For some reason, Scott’s death hadn’t given him the satisfaction he craved. He had felt calm when he set the current off, ready for the wave of adrenaline and the same sensation he’d felt when he had killed the first time. It hadn’t happened when he killed the old man but he’d been so sure he would get it this time.

  He shook his head, asking himself why. For a moment he felt rage burn in his belly, he was angry that the feeling had been kept from him, angry that it wasn’t the same and he had to fight against the emotion before it overwhelmed him.

  His eyes widened as he spotted Cass coming out of the lot. His mind suddenly shifted and he realised something with utmost clarity.

  It wasn’t his fault. It was hers.

  If she hadn’t distracted him, made him follow her around and scout her cottage out, then the feeling would have come. He would have been satisfied. Where did she get off doing that to him, taking that from him?

  He simmered silently, watching as she pulled Alex to one side, no doubt to whisper sweet nothings in his ear, and a new plan began to form. One he was certain would give him the satisfaction he craved. One that would be more spectacular than a body in a coffin by the beach.

  His face cracked into a small smile, tiny wrinkles showing in the glue holding his fake whiskers in place.

  She would definitely be the one. She had to be.

  28th October, 2020 hours – Ryhope Police Station

  It had been another long day.

  Cass had just finished putting everything through on the system and completing the staff reviews for another year.

  The evidence from the murder had already been bagged and tagged, and the tiny fragment of latex forwarded to the DNA lab for examination. Normally Cass had to fight with the submissions department for a sample to go off for a standard exam, let alone an urgent one, but Alex had already phoned ahead so by the time she spoke to them they were happy to authorise sending it off.

  She still had the niggling feeling that she’d missed something, even after she had read and reread her notes about ten times. She had gone over and over the crime scene in her mind, and still couldn’t put her finger on it.

  She sighed deeply, rolling her aching shoulders and flexing her neck. When she opened her eyes, Alex was stood in the doorway watching her. He didn’t speak as he entered the room, closed the door, and crossed the office to stand behind her desk. Slowly he knelt in front of her, cupping her face in his hands and gently pressed his lips to hers.

  Cass wrapped her arms round his neck, deepening the kiss further as a sudden rush of desire passed through her.

  As it ended they both stared at each other, their breaths short and pupils dilated.

  ‘Time to go home?’ asked Alex hopefully.

  Cass sighed and shook her head slowly.

  ‘Can’t yet, love. Need to get all this stuff to the exhibits officer over at central, then Greg wanted a word when he gets back from the job he’s at and I said I’d wait. You can head to mine and I’ll see you there shortly if you like? I’ll give you the spare key.’

  He grinned at her as she blushed slightly.

  ‘Ooo aye,’ he sniggered jokingly, ‘Something in mind, Miss Hunt?’

  Responding to his playfulness, she smiled back. ‘Most definitely, Mr McKay – I was thinking roast chicken, maybe some mash and Yorkshires.’

  He looked startled for a moment, then recovered himself. Bowing into her neck he whispered, ‘Your wish is my command.’

  She tingled as she felt his breath and pulled him in tightly to a hug.

  He grinned as he pulled away and got back to his feet.

  ‘See you soon,’ he said, taking the key she offered as he turned.

  Cass was still grinning twenty minutes later when Greg walked in. They had a quick discussion about his redundancy application, before she grabbed the evidence bags and headed to her car, figuring she would drop the evidence off on her way home.

  Chapter Thirty

  29th October, 0120 hours – Pallion, Sunderland

  Pure rage was running through his veins.

  He was having trouble controlling the urge to scream and break anything breakable in the house. He took deep breaths, trying to calm a shaking that just wouldn’t stop.

  He had pulled out the white suit and other clothing he had worn to kill Scott and realised there was a small hole in one of the blue nitrile gloves. He had no idea if Cass had found it but he had to presume she had.

  This again was her fault. If he hadn't been tied up running round after her and killing that fool Jameson, then he would have had more time to prep. He wouldn’t have made such a schoolboy error.

  His DNA was on file; everyone joining the police force handling anything to do with evidence had it taken as a matter of course. If she had found the tiny fragment, then it would just be a matter of time before they knew it was him.

  He couldn't risk going back to the station now. He’d have to lay low and work from his back up plan.

  Working quickly now, he grabbed a bag and began packing. He set off on foot with the bag over his shoulder and his trusty toolbox in his hand, walked a few streets over and called a cab.

  The cab dropped him at a block of flats on the other side of Ryhope, one of the rougher estates. He made his way up the stone stairs, past the discarded rubbish and used needles. The place had an almost derelict feel. This was somewhere even the scum didn’t want to live.

  But it would serve his purpose. He had been renting the flat now for months. Had gone in twice weekly ever since. It was dark, dingy and smelled mouldy, but it was his plan B. It was rented in a fictitious name, the landlord happy for no references in exchange for an additional bond. He had an old runabout parked nearby that he had picked up for next to nothing and had never bothered changing the owner information on.

  Yes, plan B was all good as a back-up. He could lay low here, and make the plans he needed to kill Cass.

  She would pay. She had ruined everything.

  29th October, 0310 hours – Cass’s Cottage

  The triangles were being thrown at her from every angle, and she was ducking, screaming, trying not to let their sharp edges hit her. E
verywhere she turned there were dead bodies, blood everywhere. The smell was nauseating, but she couldn’t escape. She knew he was following her, was behind her throwing the triangles, trying to get them to pierce her very soul. She knew in her heart if he caught her she would be dead. Just like all the others. Just like the boy in front of her now, the one in the coffin, the one with the bruises. She stared at him as his dead eyes blinked, and he whispered ‘Help me.’ She turned away and suddenly came face to face with a monstrous shadow. She felt the scream rise from the bottom of her boots as his cold hands tried to grab her arm.

  Alex leapt out of bed, eyes wide as Cass’s scream ripped around the room. She was still thrashing and whimpering in her sleep. His heart pounding, he moved to her side. Kneeling, he grabbed her arms to stop her thrashing and quietly repeated that it was OK, it was just a dream.

  He watched as she slowly pulled herself from the realm of the nightmare and stared at him, her eyes glazed with panic and fear. They narrowed slightly as she registered what she had been dreaming about. And suddenly comprehension dawned.

  ‘The triangles Alex. The triangles. That’s the link,’ she gabbled, jumping out of bed and reaching for her joggers from the nearby chair.

  ‘What? Slow down, Cass, what do you mean the triangles?’

  ‘The murder from the car, the old guy and now this kid, Scott. It’s the triangles.’

  Confusion showed on Alex’s face as he struggled to link what she was talking about. Triangles?

  In a flash he understood; they had pulled a triangle from the throat of Susan, the old guy had had bits of metal and bottle tops in his pocket and now there was a triangle on the coffin from yesterday’s murder.

  ‘They’re linked. We’ve had three murders by the same person. We have a serial killer.’ His softly spoken words made it a reality, and they both paused for a moment.

  ‘A serial killer? In Ryhope? That’s insane,’ but Cass was nodding as she said it. Now it was beginning to make sense.

  By the time they were dressed, Alex had called his team in as well as the Chief Super – it was going to be another long day.

  29th October, 1000 hours – Ryhope Police Station

  ‘This is DCI McKay from Ryhope Police Station, I need to speak with whoever is dealing with emergency submissions from yesterday afternoon.’

  Alex tapped his fingers on the desk, frustrated by the annoying hold music sounding in his ears. Seconds later a female came on the line, her voice soft with a hint of a Birmingham accent.

  ‘Marie Smithson speaking. How can I help?’

  ‘Marie, I need the DNA submission we sent over yesterday examined urgently. It would have arrived first thing this morning by courier – it's vital evidence in a series of murders,’ said Alex.

  ‘Well I understand that, DCI McKay, however, as I'm sure you will appreciate, we are the main lab dealing with all DNA submissions from the North East, Midlands and Cumbria. We have several outstanding samples requiring urgent examination. I will do my best to get your sample examined today and entered into the database, but I can't guarantee an immediate result. Give me the details and I'll see what I can do.’

  Alex passed over the information and hung up. Glancing at the clock, he grabbed a set of car keys from the wallboard and headed down the stairs. This wasn't a meeting he was looking forward to, but he needed to know more about the latest victim.

  Starting the engine, he made his way to the Outreach Centre.

  ‘So, Scott had problems at home?’ asked Alex, curling his fingers round the hot cup provided by the bubbly blonde who worked in the centre.

  ‘Yeah. From what I understand his dad is an alcoholic. Mum left when Scott was young and hasn't been in contact since. His dad beat him whenever he was drunk, which was often. It amazes me how Scott was still in his care after all this, how social services hadn't swooped in and taken him out of the situation years ago. Scott's attitude problems have always stemmed from things happening at home, and more recently peer pressure. He was hanging around with a group of older lads. Is it possible they could have done this?’ asked Brian, his face still pale from seeing Alex walk in. For half a second, he had thought they’d caught his wife’s killer.

  When Alex had explained he was there about Scott, it had almost been like a knife to his chest. It had taken him more than a couple of moments to recover sufficiently to speak.

  Alex paused, wondering how much to tell the man sitting in front of him. The revelation that a serial killer was on the loose was bad enough, but that person had killed two people linked to Brian. Despite his alibi for the night of his wife's murder, he could still be a suspect for the murders. Deciding to take the bull by the horns, he watched for reactions as he told Brian they now believed that both Scott and Susan had been killed by the same person.

  Brian’s eyes widened with confusion as he struggled to make the link.

  ‘How is that possible? Susan never met Scott.’

  Brian sounded disbelieving and desperate, and Alex kept his voice neutral as he explained further. He didn’t mention the silver triangles – that was one piece of information that wouldn’t be released, either to Brian, or to the press when they were finally informed.

  By the time Alex had finished talking to Brian an hour had passed. He’d learned plenty about Scott, but he didn’t feel any closer to knowing the boy who had been killed. He said his goodbyes and made his way to the hospital to speak with Kourtney. Charlie had already taken her scant statement. The girl hadn’t remembered a great deal prior to waking up on the tarmac, thanks to the drugs she had been dosed with. But, Kourtney knew Scott. And Alex needed to understand why the boy had been chosen by the killer.

  Scott was a troubled teenager, whose attitude left a lot to be desired but it must have been something other than his attitude that had got him killed. Alex was certain Kourtney would have some idea.

  29th October, 1705 hours – Ryhope Police Station

  Alex was finally back at his desk. He had been in and out of interviews and meetings all day. The powers that be had decided to keep the news of a serial killer under wraps for now and very little had been released to the press.

  Kourtney had revealed that Scott had been blackmailing someone, trying to wheedle money out of him by making threats to report him for inappropriate behaviour. She knew the victim only as John, and had said that the man was ‘creepy’. That provided Alex with motive, though he was yet to work out how it linked to Susan and the old man from the cave. He’d arranged a sketch artist to sit with Kourtney at her parent’s house later the next day. Hopefully that would give them something to work with.

  Alex sighed and ran his hands through his hair. His head was pounding, his eyes felt like they were filled with sand, and the day wasn’t over yet.

  He hadn’t heard from Cass since they’d left the cottage that morning. Scott’s post-mortem had been scheduled for 2 p.m. and Alex hadn’t been able to attend – the meeting with the Chief Super had taken precedence. He vaguely remembered Cass mentioning that Jason Knowles was heading up the examination and he made a mental note to ring him before he left the office.

  Sighing again, Alex rubbed his eyes and checked his messages. One stood out from Marie Smithson and he grabbed the phone and punched in her number, hoping he hadn’t missed her.

  ‘DCI McKay. I need to speak with Marie Smithson please,’

  ‘Detective, hello. Thank you for calling me back. I have some urgent news but I thought it best to tell you rather than anyone else. It is rather sensitive,’

  ‘Sensitive?’ asked Alex, ‘Do we have an ident?’

  ‘Yes we do. The DNA profile we pulled from the piece of blue nitrile has been looked at by two separate employees to ensure there’s no confusion. I have personally run it through the database several times. My statement and those of my colleagues have already been mailed to you with the full profile information,’ she paused again. ‘Detective, the profile is for a member of Police staff, working for North East Police
. Is it possible that the section of glove was left by one of the Forensics team in error and then recovered by someone else as a sample?’

  ‘I would say that’s extremely unlikely,’ said Alex, turning over this new development in his mind. He knew Cass had photographed as Fred had recovered the evidence. He had their scene notes and there was no indication that either of them had accidentally ripped a glove while processing the scene. Then he remembered – both Cass and Fred had been wearing purple nitrile gloves, not blue. He held the phone closer to his ear, and used his free hand to open his email account.

  Marie continued, ‘The profile belongs to a male named Frank Reynolds. According to the file he is employed out of the Ryhope depot as a handyman and driver.’

  Alex paused in shock, the information sinking in as his cursor hovered over the email from Marie. He thanked her for getting back to him, and hung up, thoughts whirling. Frank Reynolds? The odd bloke who did the runs between the depots and fixed things when they went wrong?

  Holy crap. The shit’s gonna hit the fan with this one.

  Alex headed straight to the Chief Super’s office, praying he hadn’t left yet.

  Chapter Thirty One

  29th October, 1825 hours – Cass’s Cottage

  Cass was shattered. She felt bone tired and her mind was a jumbled mess of exhaustion. It was time to go home.

  She tidied her desk on auto-pilot, and popped her head into the main office. The place was deserted so she grabbed a pen and paper and scrawled a quick note to Faith telling her she was leaving for the day, but that her mobile was turned on. She’d taken to leaving notes the second her promotion to CSM had kicked in. In the beginning, she’d felt a little guilty leaving her staff to battle through whatever was thrown at them on their own. She couldn’t work all three shifts in one day, but the simple action of writing a note left her feeling a little less like she was abandoning ship.