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

by T. M. E. Walsh

  ‘Broken?’

  ‘Yes.’ She pointed at the photographs of the two women. ‘The killer has chosen an outsider, a prostitute. Someone who wouldn’t really be missed. Then we have the solicitor. Sara was respected but her marriage was in trouble. Rachel Larson told us Nola’s spirit had left her long ago… They were both in need of some kind of guidance.’

  ‘Like therapy,’ Stefan said.

  Claire smiled. ‘Exactly. We have to assume there will be more victims. We could further assume this broken vulnerability is how the victims are chosen. If it is, then is the killer disgusted at what he may see as a weakness? Or does he have a more profound interest that goes much, much deeper?’

  Stefan shook his head. ‘I’m not sure I get that theory. We have no proof Nola went to F. B. C.’

  ‘So let’s pay Curran another visit,’ Elias said.

  ‘What we need is some evidence,’ Claire said, ‘not blind theory. We need something we can throw at him.’

  Stefan shrugged. ‘Well, we need to do something before we have another body.’

  After the team had been dismissed, Claire sat in her office alone and deep down she knew Stefan was right. She had that cold awful feeling that it wouldn’t be long before the killer would take another girl off the street and this sorry mess would come down on her head.

  CHAPTER 42

  The Fox pub in the village of Pirton, just outside of Hitchin, sat where the high street and Crab Tree Lane meet at the crossroads.

  It was late that evening when he went inside, and after a quick look around, he saw the girl hadn’t arrived yet. He went to the bar and ordered a beer before taking one of the last remaining seats near the window.

  The place was heaving. He’d only been in here once before and then he’d only used the toilet. He hadn’t stopped for a drink but even then it had been busy. He noticed the blackboard hanging in the corner beside the bar advertising the night’s entertainment: karaoke. A shiver travelled down his spine and he hoped the girl would be there soon.

  He spent the next twenty minutes gazing out of the window. The thick snow outside made the beer garden look ghostly, but also beautiful under the moonlight. He sipped his beer, not really enjoying the taste. He wasn’t usually much of a drinker. He blamed his mother for that. The demon drink had been a part of her for as long as he could remember.

  Of course with Sara he had indulged in the pleasure of wine, but look how that had turned out. He needed to take control again and push his plans forward. Barely twenty-four hours after Sara had been found, he would take another.

  His thoughts went back to the dinner with Sara.

  He had been out of control that night.

  His eyes grew dark and his brow furrowed. His mind wandered back again to those dark days with his mother. He saw her face spin from a mist and become clear in his head, and he drank from his glass, deeply this time, draining most of the amber liquid.

  The bitterness he felt against his tongue evaporated instantly when he caught sight of his chosen girl coming up the steps to the entrance.

  She was so pretty, but he knew she could never see it herself. He would try to convince her later on, after he’d explained why he’d chosen her, tell her why she was so special.

  His smile faded when he saw she was followed by her parents and her older brother. He cocked his head to get a better look as they came through the entrance and headed to the bar.

  Sixteen-year-old Felicity Davenport was glowing tonight; her long light-brown hair was tied back in the usual ponytail, which swung from side to side when she walked. Her bright blue eyes still sparkled despite the subdued lighting, and her clothes flattered her figure.

  Her father ordered their drinks, then looked around for any free seats. He pointed Felicity towards a suddenly vacant space.

  It was far away enough for him to go unnoticed, but he sank down lower in his chair nevertheless. Her parents and brother soon joined her, and he knew they’d be talking about anything and everything.

  Inside he envied them; he couldn’t ever remember a time when his mother had asked him how his day had been, if he had needed help with his homework, or if he had any problems with bullies. She was usually too drunk to ask, but he guessed she wouldn’t have bothered even if she’d been sober.

  He watched Felicity as she talked, examining each twitch of her mouth, analysing every syllable. He knew she was lying when she told her mother she was happy and nothing was bothering her; this was, after all, the reason he’d chosen her. The reason why he felt the need to intervene in her life before it was too late, and it raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

  He knew she’d grown lonely, disillusioned with her life. She thought she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. He knew it was all down to pressure. Pressure from her overbearing parents who placed their own ambitions on her shoulders.

  Felicity felt she couldn’t cope. She’d sought a new direction when she felt the depression seeping in. It’d terrified the man at first but he’d later taken comfort in the fact that if Felicity was the model student he thought she could be, he could easily set her back on track. He hoped she’d strayed just a little from her chosen path, and not enough to be completely lost to him.

  He got up from the table, pushed through a sea of people and wandered out into the bitter night, down Crab Tree Lane, and stopped outside the house he had watched many times in the last few months.

  Felicity’s family home was beautiful.

  He knew she came home most weekends from boarding school. He even knew which one of the many windows was her bedroom. The house was perfect; like her life, although she couldn’t see it yet.

  He only wished he could’ve had the good start in life that she had. Things would have been different for him, he knew that. He shook himself.

  Don’t dwell on the past. It isn’t healthy.

  He walked back to his car, parked in a neighbouring street, and waited. He pulled a blanket around his shoulders and kept his eyes staring straight ahead. He knew the family would be home by closing time, which was a few hours away.

  He slouched down in the driver’s seat and waited.

  CHAPTER 43

  24th November

  The call came in just before 6:30 a.m. Claire’s BlackBerry vibrated across her bedside cabinet, startling her from a deep sleep. It took her several seconds to register that it was her phone ringing. Her hand reached across, fingers hitting the Answer button.

  ‘I think we’ve got another one.’ Stefan’s voice sounded strained.

  He heard her voice catch in her throat. ‘Christ, we’ve only just found Sara. He’s not even giving us any time to breathe.’

  ‘I know. It’s what we feared.’

  ‘Are we sure it’s related?’ Claire said. Somewhere in the back of her mind she hoped it had nothing to do with her investigation.

  ‘We’ve had neighbours giving a description during the house-to-house of the same car used by our suspect, seen in the area.’

  She shot forward in her bed, gripping the phone tight. ‘Number plates?’

  ‘I’ve only got a partial number – fake plates again.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘I know.’ His voice mirrored the deflation in hers. He explained what they knew so far. The family had returned home from The Fox at around 11:45 p.m. They had all gone straight upstairs to get ready for bed, when someone knocked on the door. Felicity had volunteered to answer it, and her parents had thought nothing more of it when they heard her talking to someone. They had assumed it was someone who lived in the village.

  When her mother had come down the stairs a little while later, she found the front door open, with no sign of Felicity. It was like she’d vanished into thin air. They’d called the police straight away. There had been desperate attempts to call Felicity’s mobile but they heard ringing coming from her bedroom; her mobile was still on the bed where she’d left it.

  Claire felt like a wave of ice was surging through her veins
, chilling her blood, as she processed Stefan’s words.

  She swung her legs out of bed, pulling at her nightwear with one hand. ‘Give me the address, I’ll meet you there.’

  *

  Night had not yet succumbed completely to the light of day as Claire’s Mazda pulled up outside Felicity’s home. It was just after eight, and the sky was filled with dark clouds. The ice and snow under her feet showed no signs of thawing just yet.

  She saw Stefan’s car parked on the grass verge. He was already inside.

  Claire rang the doorbell and a young man opened the door. He greeted her with sad eyes. His face was pale against his shock of natural scarlet-coloured hair. His green eyes were bloodshot from crying all night. He took a step forward, his tall, thin frame dwarfing Claire.

  ‘I’m Wesley,’ he said. ‘Flick’s brother.’

  She followed him through the entrance hall and into the living room. She could hear a distraught voice coming from the kitchen down the hall. She looked at Stefan.

  ‘Felicity’s mother is with DC Harper, giving a statement,’ he said, as if hearing her thoughts. ‘This is Mr Davenport.’

  ‘Call me Clark,’ the man said, standing to shake her hand. Claire was a little taken aback but accepted his hand. He gripped her fingers tight and leaned in closer. She saw his eyes were red-rimmed from hours of crying and his breath had the sour twang of a hard spirit.

  ‘DCI Claire Winters, Haverbridge CID.’

  ‘Is it the same man who took the other two?’ he said, ignoring her words. His voice was low, like he was sharing a secret between just the two of them. ‘I must know.’

  She stared back, pulling her hand until he reluctantly released it. ‘We can’t say with absolute certainty, Mr Davenport, but I understand we have had a few eye witnesses giving a description of the car which is relevant to the investigation… It’s a possibility.’

  Clark’s eyes widened as his body began to shake. Wesley gripped his father’s shoulders, helping him back to the sofa. He cried a fresh wave of tears and buried his head in his hands.

  ‘Then all hope is gone. It’s just a matter of time before she turns up like the other two… butchered.’ His bottom lip quivered with the last word.

  ‘We don’t know for certain if this is related or not, Mr Davenport. I need to go through everything with you all, step by step, so we can help Felicity.’

  ‘What more can I possibly say to you people?’ he snapped, his face looking up at hers. ‘You couldn’t save the other two. What makes you think you can help Felicity now?’ He stood and walked closer to her again. ‘I’ve read about the case in the papers. I’ve seen the news. You’ve got nothing concrete and are no nearer to catching this man than when you first started, and now he has my Felicity.’ Fresh tears rolled down his face.

  ‘Please have a seat. You need to stay calm and focus. I’m going to get your wife, sit her down with you and Wesley, and we’ll go through this a step at a time. You may remember something vital when we go through this again.’

  *

  DC Harper had left to continue another round of house-to-house visits and Hannah Davenport now sat opposite Claire and Stefan, staring at the floor. Clark was beside her, gripping her hand for support, while Wesley sat in the nearby armchair, legs crossed, twitching unconsciously, as he listened to his mother’s words.

  ‘I can’t believe I let her answer the door late at night… What kind of mother am I?’ She clasped a tissue to her mouth.

  ‘You said so yourself, Mrs Davenport–’

  ‘Hannah, Inspector,’ she said, cutting Stefan off.

  He smiled and gave a small nod. ‘Hannah. You thought it was someone from the village. Everyone here knows everyone else. You can’t be blamed for what happened. Felicity’s sixteen, she’s not a little girl.’

  The room was silent.

  ‘Perhaps you could tell us about what you did yesterday. I understand Felicity was home from boarding school this weekend?’ Claire asked.

  Hannah nodded. ‘Yes, she comes home every weekend. Clark picked her up early yesterday morning from Kingsbrooke.’

  ‘And this is a boarding school for girls?’ Claire clarified.

  A short, sharp nod. ‘We spent the day together in the house, doing our own thing.’

  ‘No one left the house and you had no visitors?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What did Felicity do?’

  ‘She was in her room most of the day.’

  ‘She was on her laptop writing an essay,’ Clark said. Wesley sighed, rolled his eyes.

  ‘You’ve something to add, Wesley?’ Stefan asked, keeping the tone of his voice casual.

  ‘I have just told you she was doing her school assignment.’ Clark had stepped in again, and it irritated Claire.

  ‘If you could allow Wesley a chance to speak, I’d appreciate it.’

  He shot her a cold look. ‘My word not good enough, Chief Inspector?’

  ‘Dad!’ Wesley sat forward and held his hands out, shaking his head. ‘The sooner you stop pretending like Flick was OK, the better.’ He turned to Claire, and she saw nothing but truth in his eyes.

  ‘Wesley, please,’ Hannah said, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  ‘No, Mum, we have to tell them.’

  Clark stood and grabbed Wesley by the shoulders, pulling him from the chair. ‘This jealousy of your sister will be the death of this family!’

  Stefan took a firm hold of Clark’s arm. ‘Let him go, Mr Davenport.’

  ‘You just don’t want to see what’s staring you in the face!’ Wesley shouted, pushing his father from him.

  Claire looked at Hannah, who had buried her face in her hands, consumed by grief. Her eyes crossed to Wesley. ‘You need to tell us what you know if we’re to help your sister.’

  ‘I’ve been trying to help her for months,’ he said, tears in his eyes again. ‘I’m the only one who’s really accepted Flick needs help.’ He stared at his parents with disdain. ‘Flick’s suffering from depression… She was on The Way Out website yesterday, virtually all day.’

  ‘Oh God, please don’t, Wesley,’ Hannah said.

  ‘What’s The Way Out website?’ Claire asked.

  There was a heavy silence and all eyes were on Wesley. He swallowed hard before he spoke. ‘It’s a website for people contemplating suicide.’ He paused. ‘I can show you everything on her computer that she’s been looking at.’

  Claire looked to Clark and Hannah. Both avoided her eyes. Clark shook his head at his son. ‘You can’t face the fact she’s making something of herself, can you?’ He pointed a shaky finger in Wesley’s face. ‘You never took your studies seriously enough and now you want to interfere with Felicity’s chances.’

  Wesley’s voice rose. ‘No, you never took any of Flick’s problems seriously. Now’s the time for you and Mum to stop burying your heads in the sand.’

  ‘OK,’ Claire said, intervening. ‘There’re clearly some issues you need to make us aware of.’

  ‘This is a family matter,’ Clark snapped.

  ‘Your daughter is missing, Mr Davenport,’ Stefan said. ‘We’re not here to judge you as a family. We’re here because your daughter’s been kidnapped.’

  Clark stared at Stefan for several seconds before he spoke. ‘She had started cutting herself.’

  ‘Why?’ Claire asked. Hannah shook her head. When Clark also failed to answer, Claire looked to Wesley. ‘Felicity confided in you, didn’t she?’

  He nodded. ‘She couldn’t take the pressure from our parents any more.’

  ‘This is not our fault,’ Clark said.

  ‘I can show you where Flick kept her cutting kit. It’s in a small tin in her drawer,’ Wesley continued. ‘She’s vulnerable. She’s scared and alone.’

  ‘That’s why I suggested the therapy,’ Hannah said, cutting in. ‘This isn’t something we can handle on our own. It’s not something I understand. I thought it was a silly phase but she wouldn’t stop cutting away at herself.’
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  Claire exchanged glances with Stefan.

  Broken women…

  ‘Where were you going for therapy?’ Claire asked.

  Hannah’s eyes met hers. She sniffed back her tears, looking embarrassed. ‘We’ve been attending Focus Being in Letchworth.’

  Claire felt her stomach pull tight. ‘Have you been seeing Mitchell or Stephanie Curran?’

  Hannah paused.

  ‘Mitchell… How’d you know that?’

  CHAPTER 44

  Mitchell Curran sighed and massaged his forehead. He felt the beginnings of a migraine emerging from the front of his head, slowly creeping towards the back.

  ‘I’ll ask you one last time, Mr Curran, and if I were you, I’d think twice before you lie to me again.’ He looked up at Claire and felt his stomach roll. ‘Was Nola Grant a client of yours?’

  He remained silent and glanced out of his window, planning in his head how to answer. ‘She wasn’t my client, but I did see her for her initial assessment.’

  Claire and Stefan exchanged glances but said nothing. ‘For data protection purposes, however, I–’

  ‘There’s an exception under the Data Protection Act 1998, Mr Curran, which no doubt you’ll be aware of. It allows you to give information to the police in the event that it will help prevent or detect a crime, or catch or prosecute a suspect,’ Claire said. He looked back at her and she raised her eyebrows.

  Checkmate.

  ‘I still have the right not to disclose anything, even under that law.’

  ‘We can do this the hard way if you’d like, but I’d ask that you bear in mind there’s a young girl missing, who was one of your clients. Need I remind you that Sara Thornton and her husband were also seeing your wife? … Time may be running out for Felicity Davenport. The ball is in your court.’

  He paused. He saw her eyes were serious.

  ‘OK,’ he snapped, throwing his hands up in the air. ‘Nola wanted help to kick her drug habit and leave prostitution. She needed the mental strength.’