The Principle of Evil: A Fast-Paced Serial Killer Thriller (DCI Claire Winters, Book 2)

by T. M. E. Walsh

  Elias sneered. ‘What’re you lot? Mother Earth?’ He sat forward, pointing his finger, driving the point home. ‘Grant would’ve either had an abortion or dragged the poor kid into the same downward spiral she was riding. You lot want to get things into perspective.’ He paused, and looked at Claire. ‘I’m sorry if it sounds cold, but you know I’m right.’

  ‘What’s important now is to keep it from the press for the time being.’

  The room was silent, a few people nodding or making notes. Elias looked around at everyone, then back to Claire. He looked exasperated.

  ‘Why?’

  Claire’s eyes snapped up in his direction. Her eyebrows rose. ‘You seriously need to ask?’

  ‘Seems pointless holding it back. It could work to our advantage.’

  ‘Or the opposite. This order has come from above. It’s not up for negotiation.’ Elias shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Sergeant, was there something else you wanted to add?’

  ‘Nah, it’s all right, Guv.’

  Claire’s face was tightly controlled, taut with tension, and she addressed the whole room when she said, in a low calm voice, ‘If I find out that anyone in this room has leaked this information, you’ll think a holiday in Somalia’s a trip to fucking paradise compared to the hell I’ll rain down on your head.’

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER 22

  The man watched from behind the window in Bayley’s coffee house across the road from her office building. He knew Barratt & Causeland Solicitors occupied the first and second floors of the building, and he knew she’d be leaving any time within the next half hour, having watched her movements, like he’d watched all his chosen ones.

  Dealing with Nola had thrown him. He hadn’t expected her to have such a difficult spirit to break, but he was adamant he’d learn from his mistakes and put what had happened with Nola down as another practice run.

  It was almost 8:00 p.m. He cast his eyes back towards the office block, just as she emerged. He sighed inwardly. She was so beautiful.

  Sara Thornton’s light ginger hair, tied up in a sleek ponytail, swayed as a gust of bitterly cold wind hit her when she stepped outside. Although dressed appropriately in her winter clothes, she felt chilled to the bone.

  She stopped under the shelter of a convenience store and pulled her hood up over her head. He watched her as she put on her leather gloves and walked down the street, clutching a large folder under her arm.

  He kicked the stool out from underneath him, left Bayley’s and followed her at a distance, keeping his baseball cap pulled low over his face, coat hood pulled over the top. The cold hit him like a smack in the face, his skin feeling taut and frozen.

  His heart felt like it was dancing, the beat reverberating inside his chest with excitement. He quickened his pace, both to fight the cold as well as to keep her in his sights.

  When she headed off the main high street, towards the multi-storey car park, her mobile phone rang.

  The man hung back, slowing his pace as she fished around inside her bag. She stopped, grimaced at the caller ID, then answered the phone.

  ‘I know I’m late, I’m sorry,’ she said, when she held the mobile to her ear. ‘You may as well just go without me, I’ll meet you there.’ She fell silent, then visibly bristled. ‘It’s not my fault. I couldn’t just up and leave, Gregg. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  Whatever the reply, Sara clearly didn’t like it. She hung up and flung the mobile back into her bag in anger.

  The man knew Gregg was her husband of five years. They’d planned a night out – date night, they called it. Trying to inject some much needed spark back into their short marriage. The thought raised a smile.

  As she turned into the street that led to the car park, his hand disappeared inside his pocket.

  Keys. Mobile. Wallet. Cloth.

  Chloroform…

  CHAPTER 23

  Elias glanced over his shoulder. Everyone was either too busy to care what he was doing, or running around with phones glued to their ears. His eyes darted towards Claire’s office.

  She was talking with Stefan.

  Her favourite.

  He was beginning to despise them both. His face hardened, watching their body language. What the hell did she see in Stefan that she didn’t even bother to look for in him?

  He had aggression, sure, but he didn’t see much of the alpha male in Stefan. He seemed too nice… Maybe that was his cover and deep down there was a darker, devious side? Elias didn’t know and right now didn’t care.

  He accessed Google, typed in a search and brought up the website for Haverbridge’s local newspaper. Chewing on the end of his biro, he scanned the various headlines scrolling across the screen. He read the article on Nola, and noted the reporter’s name. He clicked on their contact details and wrote down a number and email address on a scrap piece of paper.

  He clicked and closed the webpage, and turned the paper over when Matthews approached his desk. He kept his motions slow, drawing no undue attention towards himself.

  Matthews perched on the edge of his desk and passed Elias a handful of paperwork.

  ‘There’re some discrepancies about who may have had access to the parkland while the firework company and council were rigging everything up for the display. It was supposed to be closed to the public in the early hours of the morning on the fifth, but seems it wasn’t.’

  Elias pulled a face and checked his watch.

  ‘I’m sorry, did you have to be somewhere?’ Matthews snapped.

  Elias checked the top page on the bundle of headed A4 paper. ‘Millennium Fireworks.’ He read further along. ‘They’re closed.’

  ‘Call them tomorrow. You can do that before you go and see the park warden. See why the security wasn’t as tight as it should’ve been and if he’s got the CCTV footage from his Portakabin ready for us yet.’

  Elias nodded, and flung the paperwork down on top of the scrap paper he wanted hidden.

  Matthews noted the expression on Elias’s face and crossed his arms tight across his chest. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘It’s Claire.’

  Matthews laughed. ‘I’m beginning to think you like torture. I can’t decide whether you’re brave, very stupid or–’

  ‘DCI Simon Forester,’ Elias cut in.

  Matthews looked perplexed at first, then the realisation hit him. ‘What’re you bringing him up for? Don’t let Claire hear you chatting about him.’

  ‘I heard she cheated on him. May have even compromised a case while she did it as well. What’s that about?’

  Matthews shrugged. ‘Rumour, mate.’

  ‘There’s always an element of truth in a rumour.’

  ‘Look,’ Matthews said, lowering his face to stare into Elias’s eyes. ‘I may be a lot of things but ratting out the Guv, or spreading gossip about her private life, isn’t my thing.’

  Elias smiled and looked away towards Claire’s office, then back to Matthews’s face. ‘She did compromise a case, didn’t she?’ Matthews blinked. ‘Her relationship with DSI Donahue has taken a battering over it as well, hasn’t it?’

  Matthews said nothing.

  ‘See, she has her secrets too, you know?’

  ‘What are you doing, Crest?’ he said, shaking his head.

  Elias stood up and pulled his suit jacket on. He gathered up the paperwork on his desk and shoved it under one arm. ‘She knows my secrets. It’s only right I know hers too.’

  CHAPTER 24

  The road that led to the car park was dead. The further Sara headed towards the entrance, the quieter everything became, and all she could hear was the sound of her heels against the pavement.

  She was very close to his car now, parked on the left against the curb. A quick look over the man’s shoulder confirmed they were alone.

  He readied himself.

  His face seemed to shrink back even further under his hood, as he pulled the peak of his cap lower, shielding his face from the CCTV camera perc
hed up high on a building several feet away from them.

  He reached for her.

  He caught her off-balance as she tripped on her heels, slipping on the ice. Her knees went from under her as he dragged her against him. He stifled her screams, pressing the chloroform-soaked cloth harder over her mouth.

  She clawed at his arms and the folder she’d been carrying fell to the floor, skittering across the pavement, loose paper spilling into the road.

  Soon her movements slowed. Her body went limp in his arms.

  Backing up towards the back door of his car, he stooped and pulled the door handle. He pushed her along the length of the back seat.

  Sitting in the driver’s seat, he looked around again. He didn’t see anyone, which relaxed him a little. He was still new to all this… Well, fairly new. He felt conscious of the lone CCTV camera but he’d kept their backs to it, as planned. The fake plates he’d acquired would slow the police. He was aware that the cameras were usually manned 24/7, so quickly turned the key in the ignition.

  Then he heard a muffled sound. Sounded like something by Queen.

  Sara’s mobile was ringing.

  He arched around in the seat and retrieved the phone from her bag, fumbling in his haste.

  He checked the caller ID.

  Gregg… The name flashed across the screen and he grinned. Too late for apologies.

  Arrogance and a smug satisfaction swarmed inside him. Even the threat of being caught at this crucial moment didn’t deter him. It did the polar opposite. The thrill of getting caught felt delicious.

  He hit the Answer button.

  Raising the phone to his ear, he waited in silence.

  ‘Sara?’ Gregg’s voice sounded strained, tight.

  The man smiled to himself.

  ‘Sara, I’m sorry for what I said. I know how hard you’ve been working.’ He let out a deep sigh. ‘Let’s not fight like this. We’ve been making such good progress with the therapy. I just wanted tonight to be special. I thought…’ He broke off. Paused. ‘God, I don’t know what I thought.’

  The man smiled at Gregg’s words. ‘Too late for apologies,’ he said, before he could stop himself. He could almost feel the fear in Gregg’s rapid breathing.

  ‘Who is this? Where’s Sara?’

  Silence. A cruel smile appeared.

  ‘She belongs to me now.’

  His words hit Gregg like a gunshot wound to the chest, his insides exploding. The man began to pull away from the curb, Sara’s mobile now on the dashboard. Gregg was shouting now, a mixture of obscenities then beseeching.

  He sounded desperate, like he might shatter.

  As the car turned the street corner, the man rolled down the window. It’d started to snow again, the drops pattering across the windscreen and through the driver’s side window, cutting across his face.

  ‘She’s mine.’

  He hung up, and guided the steering wheel with his raised knees as he wiped his prints from the phone. Then he dropped it out of the window. It smashed against the concrete, sending fragments of plastic and metal across the tarmac. Then the car disappeared into the bitter night.

  *

  The phone went dead. Gregg’s heart was pounding.

  ‘Sara?’

  He screamed again and again, until his voice was hoarse. He dropped the phone. It hit the carpet with a dull thud. He stared at his reflection in the mirror in the hallway. He was streaked with sweat. His hair was plastered to his forehead and his face burned but inside he was cold.

  Numb.

  A void deep within him.

  Sara…

  He retrieved the phone from the floor. It seemed an eternity, waiting for the emergency services to pick up his call. After he’d hung up, he found himself sliding down the wall, onto the floor in despair.

  CHAPTER 25

  He parked the car in the usual spot. Behind the town houses there was a row of garages and a small forecourt for residents who paid for the privilege of a car parking space each month. The man couldn’t afford for his car to be spotted on the road so it had become a necessity to pay for the garage.

  It was dark and secluded, and he rarely saw anyone else there. It was the perfect place to drag a body unseen, through his back garden and into the kitchen via the back door.

  Sara was slender but she was heavier than he’d thought she would be. He struggled to hold her weight as he pulled her through the door and onto the kitchen floor. She lay there in the half-light, like a sleeping doll. He locked the back door, heaved her up over his shoulder, his legs giving a little as he took the strain, and took her down the stairs to the basement.

  He removed her coat, gloves and boots, then her jewellery. He shackled her wrists, rolled her on her side, then swept away hair from her face that had worked its way loose from her ponytail.

  He retrieved her things, switched off the light at the top of the stairs and locked the door behind him.

  *

  It was nearly midnight when he heard a noise that woke him from a light sleep, and he found himself still in his armchair. The only light in the room came from the television in front of him, sound turned down low. At first he wasn’t sure what had woken him, until he heard the sound again.

  The sound of metal against metal.

  Sara was awake.

  Testing the shackles and the pipe, as Nola had done before her… Then there had been the first one of course.

  He smiled, rose from his chair and went into the kitchen. He warmed up the meal he’d cooked earlier, in the microwave. When it was ready, he set it on a tray with a plastic spoon. He unlocked the basement door and the banging against the pipe below stopped instantly.

  She’s waiting for me.

  He picked up the tray, balanced it across one arm, and pushed the door open. He slowly walked down the steps into the semi-darkness.

  Cruel Beginnings

  September 1981

  ‘Boys don’t cry?’ the vile mother said to her son in his bedroom, as the song played out over the radio. The voice of The Cure’s Robert Smith crackled out of the old speakers and the mother sneered at the sight of her son’s tears. ‘Boys don’t cry. That’s fucking ironic, looking at the state of you.’

  ‘You’ve been drinking again,’ said the boy’s grandmother, her tone harsh as usual. She kneeled down to comfort him. ‘It’s his sixth birthday. His father should be here.’ She looked up. Her face was serious. ‘One day of sobriety, that’s all I asked of you.’

  ‘That’s half your trouble, Mother. You’re always asking the impossible.’

  ‘He said he’d come,’ whimpered the boy. ‘He promised me.’

  His mother stooped down to his eye level. ‘A promise doesn’t mean anything when it comes from a man.’ As the song came to the chorus again, she nodded her head towards the radio. ‘I’m glad your father’s not here to see this. His only son, crying like a little girl and listening to that nancy.’

  The grandmother’s hand rested on the mother’s wrist. ‘Leave him be.’

  ‘He’s an embarrassment.’

  ‘He is your son.’

  ‘Regrettably.’

  The grandmother’s face grew dark. Her hand flew out, slapping the mother hard across the face. ‘That was an evil thing to say.’

  ‘Careful, we don’t want him growing up anything like you,’ the mother said, rubbing her cheek. The boy buried his face in his grandmother’s bony shoulder, his body jerking with uncontrollable sobs. The mother smiled as she left the room, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

  The grandmother pulled the boy from her, ignoring the large damp patch left on her blouse, and stared hard into his face.

  ‘You know she can’t help it, don’t you? She’s just not grateful for what she has. You are perfect.’ She kissed his forehead. ‘Do not let her tell you any different.’ She raised his chin from his chest so she could look into his eyes. ‘Do not let her make you believe you are worthless. You are special, and someday she will realise just how much.
’

  She reached forward, taking from the floor the box of space Lego she had bought him. He smiled as his small hands gripped the box.

  ‘I hope I got the right one?’

  A small nod. ‘You did, Grandma.’ He leaned up and kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘That’s not all,’ she said, her face now beaming. She left the room then came back with another present, wrapped in bright birthday paper. She dropped it into his eager hands and sat back down beside him. ‘Do not tell your mother about this. It will be our little secret.’

  He smiled as his fingers tore through the paper, and froze when he saw a tape recorder underneath. His face shot to hers, a smile spreading from ear to ear.

  ‘Do not tell your mother,’ she said again.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, flinging his arms around her. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever have one of these.’

  ‘You’ve had a rough year and I thought you deserved it for being so strong.’

  She put her arm around his shoulders. ‘I know you wanted your dad here today, but we do not always get what we want in life. It is about being grateful for the life we do have.’

  He sniffed, and wiped his eyes. ‘I didn’t want Dad to leave. Mum blames me. She said life was perfect until I ruined it.’

  ‘That was a wicked thing to say,’ she said, stroking his hair. Her voice was soft, nurturing. ‘It wasn’t her talking. It’s the drink, but we can try to help her. We must always try to help others, but sometimes, some people are beyond help or just don’t want it.’

  He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. He looked up into her face, his brow furrowed.

  ‘What happens if they don’t want help?’

  Grandmother sighed, cradled him in her arms, and began rocking him back and forth. Her eyes were staring straight ahead at the wall, her jaw set firm and her eyes unrelenting.

  What she would tell him next would change him forever.