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

by T. M. E. Walsh

  ‘And you referred her to someone else?’

  A small nod.

  ‘Who?’

  Another long pause. ‘My wife.’

  ‘Your wife?’ The confusion in Stefan’s voice was audible.

  ‘Why didn’t you mention this before?’ Claire asked. ‘This is the connection.’

  Mitchell sat forward, eyeballing her. ‘You just don’t get it, do you?’

  ‘Apparently not.’

  ‘Focus Being has been built by recommendation and reputation. It’s not cheap, but people don’t mind paying for quality. If anything got out in the public domain, linking our work here to these murders, it’d be bad for business.’

  Shock registered on Stefan’s face. ‘People have died.’

  Mitchell shrugged. ‘Do you think that a business should suffer because of it? Nola Grant only came here for two, maybe three, sessions. Once with me, twice with my wife. She didn’t want to change, not deep down, and I’m glad. Knowing where her money came from, we didn’t want it.’

  Stefan looked exasperated.

  ‘Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts on the first and eighth of November?’

  Mitchell turned to look at Claire, his face blank. ‘Why?’

  ‘I want to go over your alibis for the nights Nola and Sara disappeared. Just so we’re really clear.’

  ‘We’ve had this conversation before.’ He stormed over to his office door, opening it with force. ‘Why don’t you go and ask my wife? She’s in room three. She’ll tell you I was at home with her all night, like before.’

  ‘Both nights?’

  ‘Both nights.’

  ‘What about last night, when Felicity went missing?’

  ‘I was at home.’

  ‘Stefan,’ Claire said, not looking at him, her eyes fixed on Mitchell. ‘Please go and see Mrs Curran for me.’

  Mitchell stood rigid when Stefan left the room. His eyes wandered back to Claire’s.

  ‘Why are the Davenports seeing you?’

  Mitchell looked reluctant to answer.

  ‘We could quite easily do this down at the station, I’m not fussed either way.’

  ‘I haven’t done anything wrong,’ he said, taking a seat.

  ‘Withholding information from the police, perverting the course of justice?’

  He needed no more prompting.

  ‘Hannah and Clark were worried about Felicity’s behaviour. She was showing signs of depression and had started to feel suicidal. Felicity wouldn’t reveal what the cause was and her parents just wanted things back to the way they were.’

  ‘And there was nothing that gave you any cause for concern?’

  A shake of the head. ‘I didn’t think Felicity was in any danger. It seemed she was seeking attention, although her brother suggested it was down to pressure from her parents to be exceptional. Felicity barely spoke in the sessions – she certainly didn’t back her brother’s claims. It was clear she didn’t want to be here, and I didn’t think she was the sort to find trouble.’

  ‘But trouble has found her.’

  He glared at her. ‘I wasn’t the cause of it.’

  Stefan came in. He looked at Claire and gave a slight shake of his head as Stephanie Curran came into view behind him. Claire understood immediately.

  Mitchell Curran had no alibi.

  Mitchell looked alarmed and moved restlessly in his chair when his wife shook her head, and he caved under Claire’s knowing stare.

  ‘OK!’ His hands banged hard on the armrests of his chair. ‘I have no alibi. I lied.’

  ‘Mitch… I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s all right, Steph, it had to come out in the end.’

  ‘You’ve both lied to the police in a murder and kidnap inquiry, Mr Curran. Anything else you want me to add to my list?’ Claire said.

  ‘Why don’t you start by telling us where you were on the nights in question,’ said Stefan, pulling up a chair directly in front of Mitchell. ‘In your own time.’

  Mitchell let his head fall into his hands. He sighed deeply and said, ‘I was going to call you.’

  Claire and Stefan exchanged glances of exasperation. It was not lost on Mitchell. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I know how this sounds, but it’s the truth. I didn’t want any of this to affect the business. We’ve already had a decline in clients over the last few years since the recession, and what with these self-help books, and the internet… people will try and cut costs. That’s the only reason I held back on the truth. I did it for the business.’

  Claire remained stony-faced. ‘You lied about being with your wife.’

  ‘I was out on the nights in question,’ Stephanie said.

  All eyes fell on her.

  ‘I work at the arts centre in town. I help out at the life-drawing classes. I was there all the nights in question, when Mitchell was at home.’

  ‘We’ll need the contact details of who was present on those nights.’

  Stephanie nodded.

  ‘This leads us back to you, Mr Curran.’

  ‘I was at home, Chief Inspector, I assure you.’

  ‘But no one can corroborate that.’

  ‘And I know how that must look, but I’m telling you the truth. I had nothing to do with any of these,’ he looked flustered as he searched for the words, ‘horrible murders.’ He paused. ‘I keep thinking about Felicity. She must be so frightened. I wish in some way…’ He trailed off, his eyes staring into space. ‘I wish in some way I could help her. I wish I could save her… I wish I could’ve saved them all.’

  CHAPTER 45

  ‘Interesting choice of words he used there, don’t you think?’ Stefan said as he followed Claire towards the foyer.

  ‘My thoughts exactly.’

  ‘DCI Winters, wasn’t it?’ a voice cut in.

  Claire looked up, and saw a familiar face staring back at her. She frowned, as she tried to remember his name.

  ‘Joseph,’ she said, after a beat.

  ‘That’s right.’ He smiled. ‘Glad you remembered me.’

  Stefan gave him a half smile. ‘Can we help you?’

  Joseph shrugged. ‘I just wondered if there was any more news?’ he said. ‘The local paper has posted an article online about the missing girl, Felicity.’

  ‘Did you know her?’ Claire asked.

  He shook his head. ‘No, not really. I recognised her photo online.’ He paused. ‘She always looked happy when I saw her here, I thought.’ He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a business card that’d been folded in half. ‘I kept this,’ he said, showing Claire the card she’d given him. ‘In case I do think of anything else.’

  She nodded. ‘One of my DCs will be in later to speak with you and the rest of the staff.’ She stepped aside to walk to the exit, but Joseph stopped her, his hand lightly touching her elbow.

  ‘I think Felicity slipped on a mask, you know.’

  Claire’s eyes flicked across to Stefan’s quickly, then back to Joseph’s.

  ‘A mask?’

  He nodded. ‘I think she only pretended to get better.’

  ‘Yet you said you thought she always looked happy.’

  ‘She did… does,’ he corrected himself. He looked over her shoulder, seeing Alice Hathaway watching them from the reception desk. ‘I see a lot of people coming in and out of here. Usually they always look happy when they come in.’

  ‘So… what are you saying?’ Stefan said.

  ‘Well, here’s the thing,’ Joseph said. ‘How can they be happy if they are coming here? Surely they are coming here because they are unhappy with something?’

  Claire’s eyes narrowed. ‘You think Felicity was faking it all, every emotion whilst here?’

  Joseph nodded. ‘Absolutely.’ He took a step closer. ‘Which makes me ask the question, why pretend? Why come if you have no intention in getting better, or healing whatever the reason is that brought you here in the first place?’

  *

  ‘He’s got a point, don’t you think?’ St
efan said as they left the building.

  Claire stopped and stared out across the car park. ‘Yes and no.’ She turned to face him. ‘He’s assuming Felicity was pretending. Maybe she was putting on a brave face? We know she’s always trying to please her parents, or maybe that’s just her face?’

  Stefan frowned. ‘Her face is always happy?’

  Claire scoffed. ‘I don’t know, I’m just saying, perhaps there’s nothing more to it. When someone’s hiding something from the world, they try and act as normal as possible. Why would Felicity be any different? Normal for that family is keeping up the pretence, the appearance of normality, isn’t it?’

  Stefan nodded, mulling the information over in his head.

  ‘And Curran?’

  ‘We’ve not got anywhere near enough on him. It’s all circumstantial evidence.’

  ‘He has no alibi.’

  ‘We need something more concrete.’

  She checked her watch, then buried her hands in her coat pockets. ‘Curran has met all three women. Nola and Sara for initial assessment, before assigning them to his wife. He looked after the Davenports personally. Felicity wouldn’t have thought anything unusual in him appearing on her doorstep.’

  Stefan thought for a moment. ‘CCTV of Sara’s abduction tells us what, though? Gregg didn’t recognise him.’

  ‘They met Curran once, like Nola. He’s not that memorable, is he? Curran, I mean. He’s Mr Average.’

  He watched her face. ‘What’re you thinking?’ he said, as they walked back to their cars.

  ‘All we have is a theory, Fletch. Just a theory. We showed people in the building, clients and staff alike, photographs of our suspect and no one has seen him or anyone wearing those clothes from the CCTV footage.’

  She slammed her hand on the top of her car. ‘I’m buggered if I’m gonna be pushed into arresting the wrong man just ’cos the pressure’s on for fast results.’

  ‘So what are the options then?’

  ‘Have a couple of DCs sent on a house-to-house in Curran’s street. See if anyone saw him leave the house or if he had any visitors on the nights in question. Same for his wife. Have someone talk to the students who take the life-drawing classes and the tutor… If it is Curran, we’ll find something and make it stick.’

  CHAPTER 46

  Felicity ran.

  She couldn’t quite believe she’d been able to escape, and she tore across the yard and into the pitch-black night, not caring about the cold biting at her naked body. She stumbled many times on the uneven ground, fear driving her on.

  The shot rang out behind her.

  She ducked.

  Then came another and she fell to the ground so hard that her whole body jerked violently on impact, but she got to her feet and pushed on.

  The ground underfoot was soggy and she heard him behind her, his boots crashing into the sludge underfoot. She couldn’t see much in the darkness and had no idea where she was heading. She just kept going in a straight line in the vain hope she’d find a house or a main road.

  Eventually she saw a dim light ahead, maybe coming from a nearby cottage in the distance. She couldn’t be sure but she raced on ahead as if it were a homing beacon calling her to safety. Tears washed her cheeks when she heard him closing in on her.

  Suddenly her feet were pulled out from underneath her, and she crashed face first on the ground. He gripped her legs tight, pulling her back along the ground. She screamed but had little energy to keep it up. Her voice sounded like a moan of an animal in pain. Her hands reached forward, nails digging into the dirt, as if it’d make a difference.

  It was no use.

  She soon found herself back in the yard she’d run from, then being pulled roughly along the stone floor back to that scary place she had feared more than anything.

  Soon she was hanging upside-down above the deep trough below. She saw him edge closer, knife in hand, and for the final time in her life, she let out a high-pitched scream.

  *

  The blood dripped from the blade onto the concrete like summer rain. The knife clattered to the floor, as the body hung there, blood flowing from the fatal wound, twitching. The man’s eyes showed little emotion as the life of his latest victim ebbed away within a few seconds.

  As he watched her body sway slightly from the suspension bars above him, he gazed down at her arms hanging down either side of her body with a dead weight. He could see the mud underneath her fingernails, and the cuts where she had fought him. She had been the most resilient yet and this had surprised him considering she was the youngest so far. She definitely had the fighting spirit when it came down to it.

  Pity it’d come to this.

  Looking down at the blood in the metal trough underneath the body, he briefly reminisced about the last few months, with some relish. He held up his left hand and used the fingers on the other to count out loud how many there had been since this had started.

  After savouring the thought for a few moments, he thought back to the next one. ‘Fallon Dockley,’ he said, smiling, ‘you lucky girl.’

  CHAPTER 47

  26th November

  The lane not far from the village of Pirton was silent and peaceful. The snow was falling softly, landing on her body. She’d been cleaned. Hair brushed, mud removed from her face and body, then re-dressed. He couldn’t bring himself to leave her naked.

  Icy flakes began to melt, soaking into the fabric of her black jumper. A mid-length black skirt rested high up her thighs. She wore no shoes. They’d been lost in the struggle. Her feet were bare, nails broken and dirty.

  Her hair was tied loosely behind her head, some strands fallen loose, tendrils curling around her frozen face. Her blue eyes looked as fragile as glass, an icy stare transfixed towards the sky.

  The bushes flanking the lane were covered with red berries, giving the illusion of blood-red tears falling against the snow.

  Her lips were blue, cracked, sore. Her skin looked like it would shatter under the slightest touch. Small droplets of blood soaked into the snow beside her.

  Felicity Davenport was barely sixteen years old. She was well educated. Very sensible, although somewhat naïve, especially when it came to the evil that can lurk within others. She often walked down this lane, alone, to try and find some peace, to stop her dangerous thoughts of her life spiralling out of control.

  The irony of this lane being her final resting place was not lost on the man who callously left her there, hidden from the main road, but soon to be found by one villager out on her morning walk.

  May strolled around the corner, her Border Terrier pulling at the lead. She stopped dead in her tracks when her eyes caught sight of the body. In her shock, she dropped the leash, the dog bounding on ahead, stopping at Felicity’s body. He bent his head, licked her hand and whimpered. He looked back at May, whose mobile was already glued to her ear.

  CHAPTER 48

  Claire was silent as she drove her car off Hexton Road onto the B655, Hitchin Road. Her eyes watched closely for the sharp turning that ran alongside farmers’ fields, where the body had been discovered. She needn’t have worried about missing anything.

  The Beds and Herts Scientific Services Unit van – surrounded by SOCOs almost camouflaged in their suits against the white backdrop – was like a homing beacon. Police tape cordoned off the area, fluttering in the cold wind on the horizon.

  She slowed the car.

  Her hands gripped the steering wheel tight. Stefan gave her a sideways glance. He felt as bad as she did. They knew the body would be Felicity’s, even before they had a formal ID. Their man was taking his chosen ones fast and killing them just as quickly.

  Claire pulled onto the side of the road. She and Stefan stared down the country lane, which had also been cordoned off by police tape. Elias was already on the scene waiting for them. He took a slow jog towards them through the snow. Claire rolled down her window as he approached.

  His eyes said it all.

  ‘Felicity?’r />
  He nodded. ‘There’s no ID on the body, but she matches the pictures the Davenports gave us. She’s not in the state of undress like the previous two. She’s wearing clothes that match the description given by the Davenports. This is barely half a mile from where Sara’s body was found. Can’t be a coincidence.’

  ‘What stage are we at?’ asked Stefan.

  ‘When the initial call came in, two CSOs arrived from Pirton village. Sergeant Millar is the senior officer on the scene. He’s secured the area.’

  ‘Same cut to the throat?’

  ‘Yes, and the likely cause of death, but she was killed elsewhere. There’s not enough blood at the scene. There are some traces of mud underneath her fingernails, but otherwise she looks very clean. Photographs and video have been taken, and the SOCOs have nearly finished, not that there’s been much to go on. Any footprints have been covered by snow, but this route is popular with ramblers and people from the village.’

  ‘Not in this weather,’ Claire said.

  Elias shrugged. ‘There’s only one fresh set of prints in the snow and it belongs to the woman who found the body.’

  Claire unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car, followed by Stefan. The wind was fierce and she pulled her long black coat around her body. She folded her arms across her chest as she stared down the lane.

  ‘This area is isolated from the main road. The lane is flanked by farmers’ fields. If she was killed elsewhere, then our man would’ve had to transport her here using a vehicle. There must be tyre tracks? Something?’

  Elias looked at her and nodded, his eyes squinting against the wind. ‘Partial tracks. It snowed heavily last night, and Dr Schreiber thinks she hasn’t been here longer than twelve hours.’

  Claire wandered farther down the turning, towards the police tape, and Sergeant Millar nodded respectfully as she approached. ‘DCI Winters,’ he said, tipping his head. ‘I think you have your serial killer. This one makes three, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I hoped I was wrong. He’s killing them more quickly.’