Wrong Place: A gripping serial killer crime thriller.

by M A Comley

  “Seems a bit harsh.”

  “I think the super is squeezing him about quotas, as usual.”

  “If only the criminals would back off and give us all a break or two, life would be so much simpler, wouldn’t it?”

  “It sure would. Talk later.”

  Upon her return to the ICU, she found Jack trying to appease a man and woman in their mid-forties. Her partner heaved a relieved sigh when he spotted her.

  “Here’s the Inspector now. Mr. and Mrs. Collins, boss.”

  Sally held out her hand, but only Mrs. Collins shook it. Mr. Collins threw an irate hand up in the air. “I want someone to tell me what is wrong with my kid.”

  Sally raised an eyebrow at her partner. “Haven’t you told them yet, Jack?”

  “I was in the process of doing that when you arrived, boss.”

  “Just tell us!” Mr. Collins ordered. His tone said he wasn’t in the mood to be challenged.

  “Okay, as far as we know your daughter was attacked and left for dead by her assailant.” Mrs. Collins wailed and threw herself at her husband’s chest. Tears welled up in Mr. Collins’s eyes. Sally continued, “At this moment, your daughter is in a coma. The doctor couldn’t tell us how long that is likely to last. It’s the body’s way of shutting down to recover after such an ordeal.”

  “Have you caught the bastard?” Mr. Collins asked less angry.

  Sally shook her head. “Not yet. The thing is, we need Amanda’s help. We’ve had this man on our radar for a few weeks now, but he’s doing everything he can to evade capture.”

  “What?” Mr. Collins pushed his wife upright and took a step towards Sally.

  She stood her ground, sensing Jack tense up beside her. I refuse to feel guilty!

  “What are you talking about? You knew there was a madman on the loose but neglected to tell the public? I know we’ve just travelled back from Turkey, but they still get the daily papers over there for those of us who like to keep informed about what’s going on back home. I’ve not read anything about this or a similar crime in this area while we’ve been away. Have they suppressed the news deliberately?”

  “Yes, you’re right. This case has not hit the media yet. I felt that to inform the public would be tipping off the offender, too. We’ll never catch him if he knew we were on to him.”

  “Oh, I see. So in the meantime, you’re happy to sit behind your frigging desk and watch the body count rise. Is that it?”

  “Not at all, Mr. Collins. Please, can you keep your voice down? You’re disturbing the patients.”

  He scowled at Sally, long and hard. Then he threw his hands up in the air again before continuing in a hushed, yet still-angry voice, “I get it—you’re convinced that leaving this bastard running around out there on the loose will benefit our society. Is that it? Damn, I’m so effing dumb!”

  Sally’s own anger teetered. She inhaled and exhaled a few short breaths then replied, “No, that definitely is not the case. The murderer has been tricking us, using someone else’s DNA at the scene to throw us off his scent. We’re trying our hardest to deal with that issue.”

  “Murderer? So he’s killed women already? Jesus, this just gets better. So you’re telling us that this animal intended to kill our daughter?”

  “We believe so, yes.”

  “And tell me this, Inspector; did the parents of the other victims give you those black eyes for giving them a dumb answer to their questions? Believe me when I say I’m sorely tempted to vent my anger out on someone right now.”

  “I’d swallow down that temptation if I were you, Mr. Collins.” Jack took a step nearer to the man.

  “And who’s going to make me? You?”

  Jack puffed out his chest. “If I have to, yes.”

  Sally yanked on Jack’s arm and pulled him away from the irate man. “All right. Pack it in. We’ll leave, get on with some real police business, on one proviso.”

  “Which is?” Mr. Collins narrowed his untrusting eyes.

  “That you ring us the second your daughter regains consciousness, so that we can return to question her.”

  Mr. Collins continued to glare at the detectives.

  Mrs. Collins eventually broke the silence. “Yes, just leave us alone, please.”

  “Very well.” Sally handed the woman a card. “It’s vital to the case, I can’t emphasise that enough.”

  “Yeah, because the other victims have all ended up dead. We got that, Inspector. Let’s hope our baby does pull through this, for your sake.”

  Sally and Jack walked off the ward and out to the car, where Jack erupted, “How dare he talk to us like that!”

  “He dares because he has the right to, Jack. Put yourself in his shoes; you’re a parent. Look at how you reacted to Teresa’s pregnancy news, then triple that rage. I guess you’d come out with the same result as the Collinses are going through at present. I don’t blame them in the least.”

  “I suppose you’re right. It doesn’t alter the fact that we’ve been busting a gut to get this fucker, and all our efforts haven’t been appreciated.”

  “I understand. I’ll tell you one thing—going forward that swift kick up the arse will probably do our determination more good than harm, eh?”

  Jack nodded at her over the roof of the vehicle. “You’re right.”

  Sally got into the car and fastened her seatbelt. “The trouble is, it’s not as if we haven’t been trying, Jack. Let’s hope Amanda Collins comes around soon. Otherwise, I can see the body count rising even more.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Sally and her team had to wait another twenty-four hours before they heard from the hospital again. The doctor overseeing Amanda’s care rang Sally on Mr. Collins’s instructions as he was too emotional to place the call himself.

  “Will she be well enough for me to bring a police sketch artist along, doc?”

  “I doubt it, Inspector. She’s still more than a little groggy.”

  “The thing is, doc, we’re on a deadline.”

  “I don’t really care about what deadlines you’re working under. All I care about is my patient and her needs. Come in and see her, by all means, just don’t push her. Give her time.”

  “Okay. We’ll be there in half an hour.” Sally hung up and immediately called her partner into the room.

  Jack appeared in the doorway, frowning. “Boss, what’s up?”

  “Amanda Collins is awake. We have the all-clear to visit her but with reservations. Can you call the sketch artist for me? The doc advised me not to take the artist. However, I think we should, just in case Amanda wants, or is able, to give us a description of this creep.”

  “I’ll get on it now. Shall I ask her to be ready to go ASAP?”

  “Do that. I told the doc we’d be there within thirty minutes. Fingers crossed that this will turn out to be beneficial for all of us.”

  Amanda was a sorry-looking sight. Her head was bandaged, she had a black eye, and a cast encased her left arm. Sally flinched when she saw the girl—Amanda’s wounds reminded her of what she herself had gone through during the last week at the hands of her ex and her parents’ neighbour. Amanda looked wary when Sally walked into the room, along with Jack and Kathy, the sketch artist.

  “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Collins. You remember my partner, Jack. This is a colleague of ours, Kathy. She’s a police sketch artist.”

  Amanda’s parents nodded their acceptance of the intrusion.

  Sally approached the bed and said softly, “Well, it’s nice to have you back with us, Amanda. How are you feeling?”

  “Not quite with it. Are you the police?” She eyed Jack warily.

  Sally turned to her partner, winked at him, and motioned for him to wait outside. Jack cleared his throat, mumbled something about stepping out, and left the room before Sally continued talking to the victim. “I am. I’m the investigating officer working your case. I wondered if you were up to telling us how the incident happened.”

  “I can try. Some things
are a little fuzzy. I’m willing to help if I can.”

  “Are you up to giving us a description of the man?”

  Amanda closed her eyes and her chin began to wobble.

  Sally smiled. “Okay, leave that for now. I don’t want to cause you any stress. Let’s wait until your body has had time to adjust first.”

  “No. I want to. I can see his face. It’s imprinted in my mind. Every time I close my eyes, his face is hounding me, taunting me. If I share the information with you, do you think it will help me to get over it quicker?” she asked anxiously.

  “Judging by what other victims have told us in the past, yes. Some people say it’s a form of therapy.”

  “Mum, can you get me a drink of water, please?”

  Mrs. Collins placed a straw to Amanda’s lips, and the girl sipped the clear liquid, emptying half the glass before she pulled her head away. “Thanks, Mum.” She smiled at her mother then looked up at Sally. “Where do you want me to start?”

  “By telling us if you recognised the man who attacked you. Did you know him at all?”

  “No, and yet there was something vaguely familiar about him.”

  Sally asked the question that had been bugging her since the night Amanda was attacked. “Why were you in the alley that night?”

  “I’d just finished a shift at work.”

  “Where do you work, Amanda?” Sally asked.

  “At Lewis Supermarket. I work the evening shift, stacking the shelves from five until eleven, four days a week.”

  “I see. And the staff entrance backs on to the alley, I take it?” Sally tried to recall the layout of the area.

  “No, a few alleys over. I use the cut-through to get to my bus stop. The last bus leaves there at eleven ten. If I don’t get on that, I’m screwed.”

  “So you take that same route regularly?”

  “Yes, after every shift.”

  “And have you ever noticed anyone hanging around, possibly waiting for you before?”

  She paused for a moment to cast her mind back. “Like a stalker? Not that I can remember. I would have told my parents if I’d had any fears like that.”

  “Okay, at least that’s one thing. So, can you explain what happened right before the attack occurred? I mean, did he jump you from behind, or approach you on the ruse of asking the way? Something like that?”

  A fearful and pained expression pulled at Amanda’s features. “He jumped out at me. He was waiting in a doorway and pounced, grabbed me around the throat.” Her hand went to her neck. “As soon as I passed by; as if he was waiting for me. If I had seen anyone lurking down the alley looking suspicious, I would have turned back immediately and taken the long way round. I tried to fight him off, but he was far stronger than me. Before I had the chance to figure out what was going on, he had me down on the ground. One hand over my mouth and the other up my sk…” Her voice trailed off, and she glanced in her father’s direction, apparently unable to say any more about the attack in front of him.

  Sally got the gist of what she meant so bypassed the issue rather than feel the wrath of Mr. Collins’s tongue again. “Did you have any unusual interaction with anyone at work during your shift?”

  “I don’t understand. You think it was a co-worker who did this to me?”

  “You said he seemed vaguely familiar. I’m just trying to figure how you knew the culprit, Amanda. We need to know why he chose you to attack.”

  She shook her head, winced, and twisted her neck until it made a loud crack. “Does there have to be a motive to all attacks? I haven’t led anyone on or anything like that,” she stated quietly.

  Sally smiled at the young woman. “I wasn’t insinuating you had. Maybe this was just an off-the-cuff attack. Perhaps you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Do you want to try and give us a description now?”

  “Yes.”

  For the next twenty minutes, in between sobs and large breaths, Amanda described the assailant in detail as Kathy sketched. Between them, a face appeared on the paper. Then after a few minor adjustments were completed, Kathy handed Sally the sketch. She compared it to the sketch Kathy had drawn based on the description Tracy Brand’s boyfriend had given her. The two sketches showed men with similar features, but Amanda had produced a much better plausible identity of the suspect than the first one had. No wonder the bar staff and customers at the pubs didn’t recognise him.

  “Okay, that’s superb. Thank you for overcoming your pain to supply us with the details. I’m going to take this sketch and revisit some of the pubs where we believe this man might have encountered the other victims. I’m also going to visit your place of work. Maybe someone spotted the man eyeing you up at the store during the course of your shift.”

  “I hope you’re going to take it to the press, too,” Mr. Collins interjected angrily.

  Sally glanced up at him. “Of course, we’ll also be searching our database to see if we can compare the crimes to anyone who might have recently been released from prison on a similar offence. I hope your recovery is a speedy one, Amanda. I really appreciate you pushing yourself to give us this description. It was very brave of you.”

  “I just don’t want anyone else going through what this man has done to me. My father said none of the other women survived.”

  “That’s right, unfortunately.”

  “Someone must have been looking down on me then. For that, I’m grateful.”

  Sally and Kathy left the room.

  “How did it go?” Jack asked as the three of them headed back to the car.

  “Good, I think. At least we have a better idea of the suspect now.” She held the sketch up for him.

  “That’s great. What now?”

  “Back to the station.”

  Once they arrived, Sally thanked Kathy for her stunning work before she and Jack entered the incident room. The rest of the team glanced their way expectantly. Sally took out the sketch and placed it alongside a copy of the first drawing.

  “Wow, there’s no comparison! Perhaps the boyfriend was still drunk when he gave his description of the suspect,” Joanna exclaimed.

  “Precisely. Just goes to prove how much more observant women are in comparison to men. Anyway, here’s what we’re going to do. First, I want everyone to prepare for a long shift. By the end of it, I’m hoping we’ll have this man’s name and address, at the very least.”

  “Can I make a suggestion, boss?” Joanna asked, sounding uncertain.

  “Sure, go on.”

  “Why not revisit Dorling? It’s been a few days since your last visit. There should be some improvement in his condition by now. Maybe he’ll recognise the sketch now.”

  “That’s definitely on my to-do list, Joanna. Thanks for the reminder. He wasn’t able to see the other sketch, so at least he’s a fresh witness. Can you get onto the media, try and get a slot on the evening news tonight? I haven’t really got time to call a press conference. Check if they’ll be happy to run the story only with the information we give them, will you?”

  “I’m sure that will be fine. Do you want me to contact the evening paper, too?”

  “Yes, do that. Right, Jordan and Stuart, while Jack and I are at the prison with Dorling, I need you to revisit all the pubs where the victims worked and flash the sketch around, see if anyone recognises the man or, better still, can name him. Okay, let’s get to it, people. We’re close now. Let’s keep the momentum going until we can haul this guy in.”

  The room buzzed for a few seconds as the team began their tasks. Then within seconds, calm returned.

  “Are you ready to go, Jack?”

  He nodded and headed for the door. “Let’s hope this doesn’t turn out to be a waste of time like the previous visit.”

  “That’s what I like to hear—the positivity resonating in your tone.” She laughed when he halted on the stairs and glared at her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Les Dorling was sitting upright against his puffed-up pillows in his hospital bed
when Sally and Jack arrived at the prison hospital wing. His demeanour altered the second he saw Sally, Jack, and the warden enter the room. He shuffled down in the bed, and his eyes flickered shut, as if he were pretending he was still having trouble seeing properly to prolong his stay in hospital.

  With a smile set firmly in place, Sally spoke to the men accompanying her out the side of her mouth, “It would appear we have an actor in our midst.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Warden Mountford said. “Time to get tough, I believe, Inspector.”

  Sally nodded. “I’ll leave that part to you.”

  “Right, Dorling. DI Parker and DS Blackman have come back to question you. This time, you will pay attention and answer them fully. Do you hear me?”

  One eye inched open, and he glanced up at them. “But the doc says that I need bed rest and shouldn’t be disturbed.”

  “Bollocks. The doctor said he’s pleased with your progress and that you’re prone to laying it on thick when it pleases you. He also said that he has every intention of discharging you this afternoon. That wouldn’t occur to him if he had any doubts about your recovery,” the warden said brusquely.

  Dorling held up his hands and opened his eyes fully. “Okay, it’s a fair cop. The rest in a comfy bed was nice while it lasted.”

  Sally was seething inside. She hated people making a fool of her, especially prisoners. She swallowed her annoyance and showed Dorling the sketch. Instantly, she could tell that Dorling recognised the person. “Who is he?”

  He twisted his head from side to side. “I think he used to be my best friend.”

  “Does this man have a name?” Sally’s heart rate quickened.

  “Jed Liddell, if that is him. Are you telling me he’s set me up for these crimes?”

  “That’s what it looks like to me. Why would he do that, Mr. Dorling?”

  “How the effing hell would I know?” He scratched his head. “I’m asking myself the same question.”

  “Okay, let’s go back to when you ‘used to be friends.’ Can you tell me why that friendship ended?”