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

by T. M. E. Walsh

  Stefan frowned and waded in before Elias could answer. ‘Nola’s pregnancy.’ The room fell silent. ‘Were you the one who leaked it?’

  Claire’s face turned to Elias, eyes burning into his flesh. ‘Answer the question, Crest.’

  He was silent, not giving anything away. Then he took a deep breath. ‘No.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Look,’ he said, voice raised, thrusting the contents of his folder into her face, ‘I don’t care what you believe… I did this for you, for the team.’ He thumped the sheets down on the table. ‘I made a list of all the slaughterhouses in Hertfordshire, then I got to thinking about the way the victims were cut. I made the link between the whole slaughter-style executions. Tying the girls upside-down, one expert cut to the neck, and the bleeding out.’

  His eyes rose and met her stare. She looked pissed, but he didn’t waver. ‘I then thought back to Felicity’s body. I saw the muck under her nails. One of the slaughterhouses on this list is in close proximity to a farm. Alarm bells started ringing.’

  He realised his knuckles had turned white with the pressure of his weight leaning on her desk. He eased off, and when he spoke again, his voice was calm.

  ‘When you told us what Danika had found, I realised there was some strength to my theory.’

  ‘None of the other girls had anything usable or relevant under their nails,’ Stefan said.

  ‘Yes, but there’s the theory that Felicity almost got away. That she caught the killer off guard. She could’ve fallen and crawled but never made it.’

  Elias laid out a particular sheet of paper for her to see.

  ‘The nearest slaughterhouse in the area where all three victims were abducted and found is here,’ he said, pointing to a name and address. ‘Royston slaughterhouse. They process cattle.’

  He placed another sheet in front of her. ‘Here, two miles down the road from the slaughterhouse, is Hatcher Lodge… A pig farm.’

  CHAPTER 56

  Claire had organised two teams. DC Harper was to accompany Elias to Hatcher Lodge, while she and Stefan would visit the slaughterhouse.

  Claire followed Elias, who was in the pool car, into Royston, a town about fifteen miles from Haverbridge, which sat near the army barracks of Bassingbourn. They drove through the main town and headed out into open countryside, where the snow lay thicker and almost unspoilt on the land around them.

  When they reached the turning into Steeple Morden, Elias took a left, sign-posted for Hatcher Lodge, while Claire carried on, two miles ahead, turning into Ashwell Road.

  The top of the slaughterhouse came into view, sitting just above hedgerows. They entered the visitor car park, found a space, then walked across the forecourt towards the entrance. The snow here had turned to a brown-coloured slush where many vehicles had driven over it, churning it up into deep ridges and furrows.

  They walked through the doors and saw the reception ahead of them. Although it was incredibly basic, it was equipped with the essentials, complete with a smiling receptionist behind a large desk.

  They showed the woman their warrant cards and she took them through a winding corridor to the site manager’s office, a small, poky room, where the paint was peeling off the ceiling.

  Calvin Reeves stared back at them. He didn’t speak until after the receptionist explained why they were there.

  ‘Well, when I headed off for work this morning, it never occurred to me that I would be sitting face-to-face with a pair of coppers from a murder inquiry.’ He paused, glancing at Claire. ‘I’ve seen you on telly… What can I do for you, Chief Inspector?’

  CHAPTER 57

  Two miles away, Elias and Harper were standing waiting for someone in charge to come and speak to them. Elias was leaning against the car, staring at his feet, when the wind picked up and his face wrinkled.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Harper said, kicking loose muddy snow from his boots.

  ‘You smell that?’

  Harper sniffed hard a couple of times and shook his head. ‘Can’t smell nothing.’

  ‘Christ, it stinks enough.’

  ‘What does?’

  ‘Pigs.’

  Harper smiled. ‘My uncle’s a farmer. I used to spend a lot of time up on his land when I was a kid. Guess I’m used to the smell of a working farm.’

  ‘It must be a terrible thing to have to get used to it.’

  ‘Put someone in a place or job for long enough and they’ll soon get used to anything.’ He pointed behind Elias. ‘Looks like they’ve not forgotten us after all.’

  Elias turned and saw a man in his mid-thirties heading towards them. He was dressed in tatty clothes, spattered with mud. Elias tried to ignore the smell as the man spoke when he approached them.

  ‘I hear you’re looking for the owner?’

  Elias nodded. ‘Are you him?’

  ‘No, I’m Hal. You want Doug. Douglas Hatcher. He owns this place, but he’s in Scotland. I’m in charge until he’s back.’

  ‘How long has he been away?’

  ‘Let’s see,’ Hal said, scratching his head. Elias exchanged a funny look with Harper. Weird hick.

  ‘He left end of October. His ex-wife is ill.’

  ‘Ex-wife?’ Harper said.

  Hal nodded. ‘They’re on good terms.’ He eyed both men, his eyes nervous. ‘Doug’s due back end of week… Is it important?’ He wiped his hands off on a dirty-looking rag.

  Elias paused before he spoke. ‘Is it just pigs you rear?’

  Another quick nod. ‘Yeah, we rear them for slaughter. Free-range, our pigs, as well,’ he said proudly, rubbing his belly. ‘Better taste.’

  Elias pulled his mouth into a thin smile.

  ‘How many workers you got here?’ asked Harper.

  ‘About ten usually. One is part-time, and then there’s William, Doug’s son, but he’s not here all day.’

  ‘Where’s the son now?’ Elias asked. He looked around at the farmhouse and many outbuildings. His face then shot straight back to Hal’s when he didn’t answer straight away. ‘Something wrong?’

  ‘No, no… William works a few hours away from the farm. Comes back by nightfall usually, but he’s… How should I say it?’ Hal looked at his feet, mulling over in his head for the word he was looking for. ‘He’s a little detached… I don’t want to use the word retard, but…’

  Harper’s eyes narrowed. ‘Detached? Like distant? Not involved?’

  ‘Detached as in simple,’ Hal said. ‘I don’t like describing him like that, but it’s the only word I can think of. He’s socially inept, I guess. Doctors can’t agree on whether he’s got some kind of autism, or if he’s just plain odd, know what I mean? I tend to go with odd, though,’ he grinned.

  Elias felt a wave of anticipation shoot up his spine. ‘Where does he work?’

  ‘Two miles or so, that way,’ Hal said, pointing behind them, to the road that ran past the farm, further north. Elias’s eyes followed Hal’s line of vision. He knew instantly where Hal meant.

  ‘He works at the slaughterhouse.’

  CHAPTER 58

  Claire and Stefan had explained what had brought them to the slaughterhouse, and Calvin Reeves had spent the best part of that time biting the side of his cheek with the tension. When they were finished, he’d remained quiet for several minutes, processing all the information.

  ‘I’ve been following this case closely,’ he said at length, ‘and I am of course willing to help in any way I can, but I still don’t see what I can tell you about this place that you don’t know already.’

  ‘We’re interested in the skill required for the actual process of slaughter,’ Stefan said. ‘Your staff, are they trained here or do they come here ready to go, so to speak?’

  Calvin seemed to mull over the question awhile, searching for the right words. ‘We tend to train in-house, although when I look at new potential employees, I keep an eye out for those who already have some experience.’

  ‘And how do you hi
re?’ Claire asked.

  ‘Agencies mainly.’

  Claire heard her BlackBerry ring in her pocket. She fished it out, glancing at the caller ID.

  DS Crest.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Reeves, but I need to take this call.’

  Calvin smiled and gestured towards the door. ‘Not a problem, Chief Inspector.’

  Out in the corridor, Claire was hanging on Elias’s every word.

  ‘William Hatcher, aged thirty, has been working for the slaughterhouse for two years now, and it’s textbook stuff… Socially inept, withdrawn, has difficulty building and maintaining relationships, and that’s just for starters.’

  He paused, took a deep breath. ‘Here’s the cherry on the cake,’ he said, drawing it out, ‘I’ve seen his bedroom… Hatcher has three separate pictures of all three women. Harper found them under the bed.’ Claire was silent, taking in every word, processing it, fitting it all together. ‘Still there, Guv?’

  ‘Yes, I’m listening.’ Claire looked through the glass window in the door to Calvin Reeves’s office and ran her hand through her hair, while she thought. ‘OK, here’s what I want you to do.’

  *

  Calvin’s face dropped when he caught the steely look in Claire’s eyes when she came back into his office.

  ‘You’ve a man working here by the name of William Hatcher.’

  Calvin nodded, his face cautious. ‘Yes, he’s been here a couple of years now, good worker too.’ When she remained silent, Calvin straightened himself in his chair. He looked uncomfortable. ‘What’s he done?’

  ‘Does Hatcher work on the killing floor?’

  Calvin gave a small nod, his face showing his unease.

  Stefan caught on instantly. ‘He makes the kill?’

  ‘For God’s sake!’ Calvin shook his head. ‘You’re making it sound something truly awful and we get enough of that with the animal-meat-is-murder brigade.’ He sat forward in his chair, looking them both square in the eye. ‘The way we process the cattle is done in the most humane way possible. Each one is stunned using a captive bolt before they’re –’

  ‘Hung upside-down by their hind legs, before a jugular, carotid artery and trachea is severed, allowing blood to drain rapidly from the body,’ Claire interrupted, finishing his sentence.

  He stared at her, open-mouthed. ‘Just what is going on here?’

  ‘Mr Reeves,’ Claire said, ‘we need to speak to William, right now.’

  CHAPTER 59

  The killing floor, as Calvin dubbed it, was a fusion of bright lights, stainless steel, blood and stark white bone.

  They stood on a long gangway above the area below, which had a set of metal steps leading down to where the workers were processing the cattle. The noise was almost unbearable, a mixture of clanking machinery and the fast-talking hum of workers. Claire peered down and saw a row of carcasses hanging up by the hind legs.

  The workers below all wore full-length white aprons, covered by a plastic overcoat, white boots and blue hairnets and gloves. Some of them had facial masks over the lower face, blocking the smell.

  ‘You see,’ Calvin said, voice raised over the din below, pointing towards the dead animals, ‘death is very quick. Then the head and feet are removed. Before the hide is separated, the digestive tract is removed, preventing faecal contamination, which takes skill.’

  Claire stared at him and he shifted uneasily. She pointed below. ‘Which one is Hatcher?’

  Calvin looked down and after a several seconds, he reached out, pointing to a man with shaggy black curly hair. He was tall and wide, a mixture of fat and muscle. Even with the bulk of his overalls, it was obvious that he was a big and powerful man underneath.

  He was about to cut into a cow hanging in front of him. Claire’s eyes focused on the sharp knife in his right hand. She watched him slice into the animal’s throat with one fluid motion, which lasted less than a second. The blood spilled from the animal, and she watched Hatcher stare at the trough below, mesmerised.

  From where she stood, he didn’t look similar to the image they had of the prime suspect caught on CCTV. Claire wasn’t sure it was the same man.

  ‘William!’

  Claire’s eyes shot back to Calvin, who was now leaning against the safety rail, trying to get Hatcher’s attention down below. There was so much noise that Hatcher didn’t hear.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?!’ Claire snapped, striding over to him. Calvin looked at her, perplexed by her expression.

  ‘I can’t allow you down there as you are. Health and safety. Regulations, Chief Inspector.’ He shook his head. ‘It’ll be easier to get him out of his overalls and we’ll talk in my office.’ He looked down again and shouted at the top of his voice, ‘William!’ A couple of workers looked up, and another went over to Hatcher, nudged his arm.

  Pointed up.

  Claire’s breath caught in her throat as his eyes met hers. She held her breath.

  Don’t you dare run…

  CHAPTER 60

  Hatcher’s eyes rested on Claire’s a moment longer than planned. Then he bolted for the door nearest to him.

  ‘Shit!’

  Before Calvin could think about what was happening, Claire shoved past him and descended the metal staircase.

  ‘Hey, you can’t go down there!’

  Workers on the floor below started jeering and shouting, some uncertain what was happening, others enjoying the chaos unfolding around them.

  ‘Sorry, Mr Reeves,’ Stefan said, pushing past him. He bounded down the stairs after Claire. He took the stairs two at a time, but Claire was faster. By the time he’d reached the bottom, Claire was already at the door Hatcher had escaped through.

  He shoved a few workers out of the way and pushed the door open with force. He lost his footing and skidded across the shiny vinyl flooring that ran down a narrow corridor. He bounced off the wall opposite him and sprinted down the corridor, not bothering to look back to see if Calvin had followed them.

  *

  Hatcher looked over his shoulder as he ran down the winding corridor and into the men’s locker room. He grabbed his coat off the hook, sending others onto the floor, and ran back out again. He pulled the coat around him.

  ‘Hatcher!’

  He looked and saw Claire running full speed towards him. He bolted, running the other way, his breath now coming in short sharp bursts, showing no signs of slowing down.

  Claire shouted after him, but he didn’t stop. As they turned another sharp corner, she saw him running towards what looked like a dead end.

  It wasn’t until she drew closer that she saw it was a fire exit ahead. Hatcher pushed his arms out in front, his big hands locking onto the bar across the door, pushing down hard. The door flung open and an alarm instantly sounded right above her head.

  The door swung back in and she shot her right leg out, kicking it back, as she propelled herself out of the door and into the open.

  *

  Stefan had lost sight of Claire.

  Then he heard the alarm go off, wincing at the sudden pain in his ears. He followed the corridor round the bend and saw the fire exit. He forced it open, running through it. He headed around towards the car park, but he couldn’t see any sign of them.

  *

  Claire followed Hatcher as he ran out of the car park, but he headed back around to the other side of the building, rather than out of the main entrance.

  She almost lost her footing a few times, her boots skidding in the melting snow and ice. The grey of the building whipped past her in a haze, as she sprinted onto snow-covered grass. Soon she was at the back of the slaughterhouse, where there was nothing but lines of barbed wire and open fields ahead, with another road off in the distance.

  She paused to get her bearings. Hands on thighs, bent forward, panting hard. Heart slamming in her chest.

  She saw Hatcher emerge out of the corner of her eye, but the realisation came too late. She turned just as he collided with her, his head bent, heavy meaty
arms forcing her to the side, and she crashed hard, shoulder first, into the brick wall of an outbuilding.

  The force sucked the wind from her in an instant. She slumped down to the ground, hands clutching her chest. She forced a large intake of breath. Spluttered. Her eyes misted over.

  ‘Shit, are you OK?’ Stefan was at her side, but she shoved him away.

  ‘Hatcher, go after Hatcher!’

  *

  Hatcher was already at the barbed wire fence, pulling himself over it, but he snagged his jacket, leaving fine strands of cotton behind. He checked his mobile was still inside the inner coat pocket.

  Then he ran. Ran faster than ever.

  He knew the area well; after all, he’d lived here all his life. He knew if he could just make it out to the road ahead, he could go to ground, and slip back into the main town, keeping to the fields and country lanes.

  There was no doubt in his mind they would find the things in the car back at the farm, the stuff in his bedroom. That didn’t matter now. There were two more left. Two more that had to be saved, and if not, he’d end their lives, as he had the others.

  CHAPTER 61

  The evidence before them was startling.

  William Hatcher’s room was littered with evidence. Claire eyed the pictures of the three girls that Harper had found under Hatcher’s bed and grimaced. Each girl was facing away from the camera, clearly unaware she’d been photographed.

  Just how long had Hatcher been stalking these girls?

  She walked outside.

  ‘The car Hatcher drives is company owned,’ Stefan said, coming up beside her.

  She peered into the car Hatcher had been using when he wasn’t at work. A beat-up, mud-spattered, 2001 Range Rover SUV.

  Wisps of light brown hair were stuck in the backseat upholstery.

  Felicity.

  ‘Looks like he’s our guy,’ Elias said beside her. ‘SOCOs have found a smashed-up mobile. Think it’s Nola Grant’s. SIM card’s been burnt to a crisp though.’