“Of course,” I replied, letting him do all the talking.
“Well, the third one was quite risky. I was following him, hoping he would go into the woods. I knew he would probably go in at least a little ways because it was a shortcut home. School used to end at four o’clock, so it must have been about five past four. Anyway, he walked down an open street, but he saw me, with the knife! He asked me what I was doing, and I couldn’t think of an excuse on the spot, so I knew I had to kill him right there!”
I was shocked at how well he spoke. It was like it was scripted and rehearsed, everything he said. Perhaps he had prepared what he was going to say before he’d come. Perhaps he had been preparing for a while.
“Is there anything else you’d like to add to that one?” I asked him.
“No, except I had to leave him in the street because I knew that someone in the houses opposite had probably been watching.”
“That’s strange,” I said out loud, unintentionally.
“What is?” he asked.
“Are you sure nobody saw you?” I asked him, quite puzzled by what he’d said.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “But I don’t know.”
“Was this a quiet street?”
“Yes. It was really quiet, actually. I couldn’t see anyone in their houses, so maybe it was just luck.”
“And the fourth murder?”
“This was the final one,” he said, rather enthusiastically. “And in this one, I had to set a trap for him.”
“Go on,” I said, interested to discover what he had to say.
“Well,” he replied, “I had seen Richard flirting with another girl, so I wrote a fake love note asking for him to meet up in the woods,”
“How did you get it to him?” I asked, feeling like I was on top of the case.
“I slipped it through the vent in his locker, when no one else was there. There was no closed-circuit TV at the time, either, so I was very lucky.”
“Okay,” I said, “and then what happened?”
“You know the rest, really. After school was over, I watched him walk into the woods, where he expected to meet his crush. I then stabbed him about eight times, like the rest of them.”
“You stabbed each of them eight times?”
“Roughly,” he replied. He looked like he was being honest about the whole thing. As time went on and he spoke more and more, it was becoming less and less likely that he was making the whole thing up. I had been half expecting him to jump up at some point and say, ‘Ha ha! This whole thing was just a joke!’ but he didn’t.
“So, there is nothing you want to add about any of the murders?” I asked him, ready to take more notes.
“If I think of anything else, I’ll tell you.”
“Okay. Let’s move on to the motive,” I said, ready to finish the interview. “Why did you choose to kill those people?”
“Well, Josh, Daniel, Steven and Richard were always making fun of us.”
“Us?” I asked, intrigued by the possibility that this man had friends.
“Me and my friend, Laura. I don’t see much of her now.”
“Alright. What did they do?”
“They used to play little pranks on us, but on me in particular. About a week before the first murder, the group of them grabbed me in the woods and threw me in the river!”
It was then when it clicked. I had established a connection between the places where three of the four bodies were found, and the motive for murder.
“They sound very immature,” I said, trying to keep him talking.
“Yes, and I had this all the time.”
“Well, John Doe, that’s about everything I have to say to you at this moment in time, but I will definitely come back to you later. What’s going to happen now, is that you are going to be charged, and we’ll look at this in a bit more detail. Do you understand?”
He nodded.
“There is one more thing I would like to ask you,” I said.
“Fire away,” he said, clearly trying to make light of the whole situation.
“Do you take medication for anything?”
“Yes,” he replied, “because I am schizophrenic.”
“Alright,” I said, knowing that my suspicions had been confirmed. “So, does anyone look after you?”
“My cousin. Her name is Monica.”
“Does she know you’re here?”
“No.”
This was interesting. I now wanted to talk to Monica to see what she had to say about the whole thing. I left the room and talked to my colleagues. Graham and Patricia had returned with the news we’d all been waiting for.
“He’s not making it up!” cried Graham.
“Right,” I said, getting very excited.
The five of us gathered round in a circle, looking at all of the evidence collected at the crime scenes. In the witness statement of the first murder, it was written that Josh Davis did a chicken dance before he left the building. That was exactly what ‘John’ said. In fact, everything that ‘John’ said matched the details of the murders. The number of stab wounds matched, as well as the places the bodies were found and times of death.
“Furthermore,” said Patricia, “none of these details were released to the press. I triple checked.”
“You know what this means?” said Miranda. “The man in that room is the Minot Hacker!”
Chapter 4
We were about to charge this man, but realized that we didn’t know his real name. We needed to contact someone close to him, and in the interview, he’d said that a woman named ‘Monica’ cared for him, and that she was his cousin. However, there was no way we could trace this Monica without more information, because this man did not have a phone number – he hadn’t even told her he was coming. So we asked him where he lived, and, to our astonishment, he told us. He said that Monica did not live there, but that she checked on him three times a day to make sure he was alright. Mitchell sent Graham and Miranda down to the house while we waited for new information. As a matter of fact, I wanted to speak to Monica myself. Did she know he was the killer all these years? I just thought it unlikely that twenty years had passed by and not a word had been breathed to connect him to the murders. Although not certain, it was probable that Monica knew about this.
Within thirty minutes, Graham and Miranda arrived back at the station with Monica. I was ready to ask her a few questions, and hopefully things would make a bit more sense. When Monica entered the room, I could see that she was about forty years of age, she was quite tall for a woman, and had long, black hair. Looking at her, you’d think she was friendly enough, but I knew by now never to judge a book by its cover.
“Hello, Monica, I’m Tammy Williams,” I said, trying to take things slowly.
“Can somebody tell me what this is all about?” Monica said, looking very agitated and confused.
“I will. I will. We just need to take things slowly,” I said, trying to reassure her, even though I knew that what I was about to say to her might shock her.
“Why am I here?” she continued. “And where is John?”
“John?” I asked, not knowing that his real first name was actually John.
“My cousin! He has problems, and he’s gone missing!”
“Did you report this to the police?” I asked, going into a little bit more detail with things.
“No,” Monica simply replied. “I thought he might turn up again. This isn’t the first time he’s been here.”
“Is John a schizophrenic?” I asked, diving right into the investigation.
“How did you know?” said Monica.
I wanted to keep her as calm as possible.
“Well, I’ve got some bad news for you,” I said. “So prepare yourself.”
“He’s dead!” she screamed, letting herself get out of control.
“No!” I said, rather firmly.
“He’s done something, hasn’
t he?” said Monica, with a tear in her eye.
“You could put it that way,” I said, trying my very best to prepare her for what was about to come.
“Will you just tell me?” said Monica, obviously impatient and anxious to hear the news.
“Well, John came to us last night, and well, do you know about the Minot Hacker?”
Monica looked at me, still puzzled.
“Yes?” she said, almost choking it out in a whisper.
“Well, he has confessed to those four murders.”
Monica said nothing after that. She just sat there, her face motionless. Her eyes were still, staring down at the floor, and her mouth didn’t move. It was like looking at a photograph. Not one part of her body moved, and for a second, I wondered if she’d died of shock. I decided to leave her for five minutes, and went to make her a cup of tea.
When I returned, she seemed to have processed the shock a little at least, even though she still looked bewildered. “So, let’s get back to it, okay?” I said to her, ready to move on. “You are not under arrest at this point, and you are free to leave at any time.”
“Is John here?” Monica asked, the second I finished talking.
“Yes, but you can’t see him yet. Do you understand?”
Monica looked disappointed, but she nodded slightly, not looking in my direction.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions to help us with our enquiries.”
“What proof have you got that it’s him?”
“Well, we have quite a bit of evidence, actually, I replied, “and I will come to that in a moment. For now, I want you to answer these questions as truthfully as you can. Can you do that?”
Monica nodded.
“Alright then. Let’s start with John’s name.”
“What about it?” asked Monica.
“Well, what’s his last name?”
“Doe,” replied Monica, not twitching one bit. I was not expecting that reply. So, John was telling the truth about his name.
Monica continued to speak. “I know it’s a stupid name, but that’s his name!” she added, almost crying.
“Okay, and are you his caregiver now?”
“Yes. When my mother died, I stepped in. There’s nobody else now, you see.”
“Alright, Monica, and how long have you been caring for John?” I asked, still in shock about his name.
“About two years now.”
“And you come in to see him three times a day?”
“Yes. Has John told you that?” said Monica, clearly eager to know what John had been saying.
“He has,” I replied, unwilling to give away any more information. “And how long do you visit him every time you come in?”
“It’s only a few minutes at a time,” said Monica. “He can pretty much look after himself. I just make sure he takes his medication. He’s fine when he’s on the medication.”
“Have there been any times when he has not taken his medicine?”
“No,” Monica replied, firmly.
“Now, I’m going to ask you some worse questions now, alright? And I don’t want you to be offended. I just have to ask them, okay?”
“Alright,” said Monica, appearing to be nervous.
“Well, has John ever talked to you about the murders at all?”
“No,” said Monica, quite unconvincingly.
“Have you ever seen these murders mentioned on the television or radio when John was around?”
“No,” said Monica, “You don’t understand. Nobody in Minot says anything about these murders. Not a word. It’s like if we say it, it’s a curse on the town! I can’t explain it!”
“I sort of see where you are coming from,” I said, truthfully. It was true that when a murder occurs, no one in the area dares to say anything about it, in case it would cause a stir or upset anyone.
“You don’t think I’m involved, do you?” said Monica, beginning to get rather excited or worried.
“Not at the moment, because there’s no evidence against you,” I said. “I’m just trying to establish what life was like for John by then, and what his character is like.”
Monica said nothing. She sat back in her seat.
“Moving on now,” I said, not wanting to go down that avenue. “What was your relationship like with the victims?”
“Well, it was a long time ago,” said Monica, showing that she was thinking, so I don’t remember talking to them that much.
I had no reason to doubt her for now, but my intuition told me she was lying.
“There is one more thing,” I said. “And it’s very important. Do you remember if John was thrown in the river by anyone?”
“Oh, yes!” Monica cried. “How could I forget that?”
“Go on,” I said, trying to get as much detail as I could from her.
“Well, I was at home one day, and because I only lived round the corner from John back then. I saw him run past my house, soaking wet. Then I rushed over to his house with my mother, and we both saw him. He was absolutely drenched.”
‘What happened?’ I asked her.
“He said that they had made him go into the river. John said that to me.”
“They threw him in, and that made me angry.”
That gave Monica a strong motive. I did not want to say anything yet, so I decided to release her.
“Is there anything else you would like to add? Because this is the time to do it if there is,” I told her, desperate for more information.
“Well...” said Monica.
I was excited now. We needed as much evidence as we could get.
“There is one thing,” said Monica.
“Please, tell me… in as much detail as you can,” I said.
“There was this one time when John and I were walking by the river alone. This was a few days after they dunked him, so a couple of days before the first murder. We weren’t far from the river, when we came across the front of a house. It was an old farmhouse. I don’t even know if people lived there, because I never saw anyone coming in or out of the house. It was in the distance. Anyway, we came up to the path leading to the house. The path ran in between the fields, and John started to get all nervous. He started shaking and everything.
I asked him what was wrong.
“‘We did a really bad thing there,’ that is what he said. He was looking right at the house, so he must have been referring to that place. But to this day, I don’t know what he meant by it.”
That was the most intriguing thing I’d heard all day.
“You must have known,” I said to her.
“Known what?” an ignorant Monica said.
“That he was the killer,” I replied.
“I just denied it. I didn’t think he would be capable of doing something like that,” Monica replied, getting up to leave.
That conversation was very interesting, for a number of reasons. We now had a lead, and I knew that the next place I would go was that old farmhouse.
Chapter 5
Putting my suspicions about Monica to one side, I set off for the house on my own. This was unusual, but since the others were busy investigating yet another gang killing, I was the only one left who could really focus on this case. It had clearly turned out to be more interesting than I had originally thought it would be, and even now I sensed I was about to find myself on an adventure.
I was driving through Minot, and passed through the housing project where John Doe lived. I looked around briefly, and caught glimpses of the people who were there living their day-to-day lives. Strangely, when I drove past some of them, they stopped whatever they were doing and turned around, staring at me. I felt rather threatened by that at first, but then I knew they must have thought I was here because of the murders. They had obviously seen Graham and Miranda taking Monica away yesterday, so they must have been curious about what was going on. I looked in my mirror to see if they were still looking, but they
had turned back to whatever they were doing.
I then came to Minot forest, on the edge of town. This place was out of the way, but there was a section at a higher elevation, so when I drove the car through it I had a view of the whole town. It was spectacular. I thought about all of the romantic evenings the teenagers of the town would have had here, knowing full well that bodies had been dumped nearby. I drove around further, and looked around at the forest. It was quite moist in places, but that was because there were so many trees. I then approached a dead end – a drive-in car park. I saw I was the only person visiting the forest today. Before I left the building, I searched the internet to find out where I was going, because I knew that Minot forest was quite a big place. I knew where I was, having been here before as a child. I could remember bits and pieces, but never a strange house. I saw an old path, one that was barely visible, but it was still there, so I decided to follow that. I knew that John and Monica probably walked down that way, because that was the way that led to the river. I walked along for a few minutes, looking around. I thought to myself, what an awful place to die! Those young boys were just left here, waiting to be found by a dog walker. It was sad, very sad. I tried to think of other things to distract myself. I approached a modern-looking sign pointing to the river. If what Monica said was right, I must be getting closer. I then looked down at the river and saw that a new path had been put in. It was full of tarmac, and it was obvious that it was a recent addition. I then continued to walk along the old pathway.
Two minutes later, I came to another path, and looking in the direction it led, I saw the old house Monica had mentioned. It was indeed in the distance, and from the way Monica had described it, nothing had changed much over the last twenty years. Just as I was nearing the house, I tripped over something on the ground. It was a circular piece of metal that was fixed in the ground, and I didn’t see it because it was covered up by grass. That was just typical. Now I was covered in mud! I couldn’t go up there looking like this, so I decided to quickly drive back home, and back to the station, hoping that none of my colleagues would see me like this. Just this once, I would tell a lie to the boss, and say that there was no one home. I then thought to interview John again, to see what I could get out of him about the house. After all, he had opened up to me in the first interview, so I was likely to get more information in the second interview.
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