The Child Taker Is Criminally Insane Box Set

by Conrad Jones

  “Sorry, Will, but I’ve never seen anything...!” The man couldn’t finish his sentence. “How could anyone do that?”

  “I don’t know,” Will said as he moved into the bedroom. “Check upstairs with the others.”

  “Fuck me!” Smithy whispered under his breath as he followed Will. The dull buzz of bluebottles came from behind the curtains. One of them landed lazily on his face and he spat it away with a shudder. The room was small with a single bed and a wardrobe in it. An Everton team photograph was pinned to the left hand wall and the Undertaker and some of his wrestling pals were scowling on a poster to the right. A sticky piece of flesh was hanging on the poster, making it look like the wrestler had a piece of raw meat in his mouth. Blood splashes traced across the walls and ceilings in arcing patterns and the bedding was soaked with it. A crack ran across the wardrobe door; the middle had caved in on itself as if something heavy had fallen against it. On the floor was a black handled hatchet. Congealed blood coated the stainless-steel shaft and blade. A piece of skull was stuck to it. Long black hair clung to the fragment of rotting scalp.

  “We don’t have to look far for the murder weapon,” Smithy said. Sometimes, sarcasm was his shield against the horrors of the job.

  “Jesus wept,” Will said. The body on the floor hardly resembled a human being. The face was nothing but blackened mush and the limbs were so badly hacked that there was no shape to them. The victim’s clothes were scattered across the bed as if the killer had removed them during a violent struggle. Maggots crawled beneath the flesh, making the remnants of the face undulate. “Whoever this is, it’s not Salim Oguzhan.”

  “Looks female to me, Will,” Smithy said through the material of his scarf. The body was naked; the killer had hacked at the chest and torso so badly that the sex of the victim wasn’t obvious. “Female, definitely,” he added looking at the genital area.

  “Is there any ID in the clothing?” Will pointed to the clothes.

  “I can’t see anything without moving them.” Smithy kneeled down and poked the clothing gently with a pencil. “Better wait until Dr. Libby and his team get here.”

  “Inspector,” a voice came from the doorway.

  “Yes,” Will found it hard to look away from the corpse. “What is it?”

  “Two more bodies upstairs, Will.” The armed officer was shaking visibly. “Both children.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  MIT

  Following a phone call, Alec joined Will at the Oguzhan home. The crime scene was like a clip from a zombie movie. There were now three more victims to add to their list.

  “I am fucking stunned,” Will said as they left the house. Crime scene officers had to study the building before they could remove the bodies. “Just when I thought I had seen it all.”

  “That’s natural, Will,” Alec said. “The guy is an animal. We need to shrug off what we’ve just seen and try to catch whoever is responsible.”

  “We don’t know any more now than we did before we went in there, Guv.” Will leaned against the wall and took in a deep breath of fresh air. “I wish I smoked, I could just go for a cig right now.”

  “I wish I smoked, too,” Alec smiled thinly. “I could pinch one of yours.”

  “Fucking hell, Guv.” Will shook his head and wiped a tear from his eye. “How scared must those poor kids have been?”

  “They would have been terrified, Will, but we can’t help them now. We can only do all we can to catch the bastard who did that to them.”

  “Where do we start piecing that together?” Will scoffed. “We have searched Salim’s house and found nothing that can help us.”

  “We know he isn’t in there,” Alec nodded to the house. “We know that his car isn’t in there and we know that whoever killed Louise Parker was here. This is the work of the psycho that strung her up, no doubt about it.”

  “His girlfriend, his wife and his two children have been slaughtered,” Will snapped. “Either he killed them or he’s dead too.”

  “We know he had three children, and there are two children’s bodies in there,” Alec thought aloud. “My guess is the third child was in the unit at Jamaica Street, and so was Salim.”

  “It didn’t look as if he has gone into hiding, there are too many personal things left behind.”

  “You’re working on the theory that our killer has the mentality of a well balanced mind, Will.” Alec moved away from the house. “Whoever did that was in a rage beyond human comprehension.”

  “His bank accounts remain untouched.” Will counted the points he was making on his fingers as he spoke. “His mobile phone records show that no calls or texts have been sent, although there are dozens of messages stored on his voice mail. His car is missing and we know that one of his children is unaccounted for. In my mind, all that means he is dead.”

  “You’re probably right, Will.” Alec could see that his inspector was tired. He looked drained and shattered by what he had seen. “Look, I need you sharp for the morning, Will. Go home for a few hours and get some sleep. I’ll see you back at the station first thing.”

  “Thanks, Guv,” Will sighed, “can’t see me getting much sleep.”

  “We can’t do anything tonight.” Alec patted him on the back. “Have a shower, something to eat. Get some rest.”

  “Are you going to do the same, Guv?” Will laughed. He knew the answer to that.

  “The mother-in-law is still at my place,” Alec lied. “I’ll get my head down at the station for a few hours.”

  Will nodded and turned to walk away. Alec headed for his car and ran over things in his mind when suddenly he heard Will beside him again. He obviously needed to talk.

  “You know the chances of Salim Oguzhan being alive are next to zero, Guv,” he said.

  “Maybe,” Alec shrugged. “He may have lost his mind, killed his wife and kids and then turned his attention to Louise Parker, robbed his own nightclub and gone on the run with the drugs and the money.”

  “Bollocks,” Will laughed. “You don’t believe that.”

  “No, I don’t, but I’m thinking out loud.” It was pushing the boundary of his imagination to believe that it could be true. It was rare that a fugitive went on the run leaving thousands of pounds in the bank. Usually they stashed their monies before they left their lives behind them. His bank accounts hadn’t been touched for weeks.

  “He may have taken the money from the poker game and the five kilos of heroin and done a runner?” Will said dryly.

  “It is possible,” Alec replied, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t the case. “The Oguzhan family are killers, but this is in a different league. They’re gangsters and they kill other gangsters. We’re looking for a totally different type of killer.”

  “We’re looking for a lunatic, Guv,” Will shrugged.

  “We are indeed, but I know one thing for certain,” Alec turned to Will. “Our killer has killed before, without a doubt, and he doesn’t care about getting caught, either.”

  “I agree,” Will nodded. “He has lost the plot and that’s what worries me. Look what the crazy bastard did to that family.”

  “We’ll catch him, Will, but we need to find out what has happened to Salim Oguzhan.” Alec knew Salim Oguzhan was the key, but they couldn’t find him, and they were convinced that he was either the killer or another victim. “Go home, Will. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  MIT

  Alec sat in his car at the Oguzhan home and closed his eyes for five minutes. His exhausted mind shut down and he fell into a troubled sleep. He was in bed with Gail, cosy and warm, until the alarm disturbed their sleep.

  “Turn it off,” Alec grumbled to his sleeping wife, but she wasn’t there. He woke with a stiff neck and a cramp in his leg. The car was cold and he shivered as he looked around for his phone. There was a message alert on his Blackberry. He took the phone from his pocket and pressed Retrieve. He noticed that his trousers looked creased and scru
ffy.

  “That’s what you get for sleeping in your car or on the settee in the office,” he heard Gail’s voice in his imagination. “Why didn’t you come home and sleep in your own bed?” She continued in his mind. As his wife’s imaginary voice pecked his head, he read the message on his phone. It was an urgent message telling him to contact Graham Libby at the forensic labs. He decided to go straight there instead of calling the doctor. Alec turned the radio off and travelled to the station in silence. The roads were quiet. He went through the drive-thru of a twenty-four hour McDonalds for a sausage muffin and a strong black coffee. He left the hash brown because they gave him heartburn. Alec screwed up the wrappers and stuffed them into the brown paper carryout bag he’d received his breakfast in, and then tossed it into the backseat foot well with a half a dozen others.

  When he arrived at the station, he took the lift to the forensic labs, rubbing his fingers across his wrinkled forehead and his tired eyes as the doors closed. The lift juddered to a halt a few seconds later and as he stepped out of the elevator, he could feel a buzz of excitement in the air.

  “Superintendent,” Libby greeted him enthusiastically. “Just the man I am looking for. We have had a productive night while you have been slumbering.”

  “Slumbering?” Alec said grumpily.

  “I saw you in your car, sleeping on the job, but don’t worry; your secret is safe with me.”

  “Doc, I don’t know how to thank you,” Alec responded sarcastically. “You have the look of a man who knows something that I don’t.”

  “Absolutely correct, Detective Ramsay,” the doctor said solemnly. “Dreadful business at the Oguzhan house, Alec, the bodies are on their way here now. It is one of the worst that I have seen.” He took off his glasses while he thought about it. “I am right. I have seen the worst murder scene in my career tonight. Any sign of the other child?”

  “No, not yet,” Alec shook his head. “At least we have some idea who the child at Jamaica Street is.”

  “The missing child is a boy?”

  “Yes,” Alec frowned. “He had two sons, one ten and one six. We’re guessing from the size of the body in the house that the six year old is missing. That would fit, right?”

  “Fit with the size of the footprints at Jamaica Street?” the doctor asked. “Yes, probably, do you know if the boy was at the house at the time of the murders?”

  “There are three sets of kids’ clothes, so we think he was, but we can’t be sure.”

  “Let’s hope we find him alive and well. My preliminary findings are in your e-mail.” The doctor took his glasses from the pocket of his lab coat and wiped the lenses on his tie. “You look tired.”

  “Thanks, I’m fine,” Alec forced a smile. He was tired and numb. Gail was on his mind. Maybe he should have thought about her this much before she left. How many times must she have thought about leaving? How many times had he ignored the warning signs?

  “I have some very interesting results from some of the samples we collected at Jamaica Street, Superintendent,” the doctor explained as he pushed his glasses onto his nose. Every result was interesting to him, especially when he was the only one who knew the results. “I know we will have a lot to work on from the Oguzhan house, but let’s take one result at a time, shall we?”

  “It’s about time we had some results, Dr Libby,” Alec returned the mock formality. “Pray spill the beans.” He could feel the tension in his stomach, like butterflies taking off inside him. Perhaps some of the pieces of the puzzle would be revealed at last. He needed the images of the Oguzhan family pushed to the back of his mind. He needed a break in the case, just one piece of evidence that would make the rest of it fit together and lead them to the killer.

  “Ah, not so fast, Superintendent.” The doctor wagged his finger in Alec’s face. “Will is on his way up. He said he would be two minutes. We may as well make it a ‘ménage a three’, as people who didn’t pass their French exams may say.”

  “I sent him home to get some rest,” Alec smiled politely, but he felt like poking the forensic doctor in the eye with his pen. They had a close working relationship, which was fine, but the doctor wasn’t the type of person Alec would have socialised with. Not that Alec socialised often, but if he did, it wouldn’t be with Dr Libby. His sense of humour was almost juvenile at times, especially when he had discovered vital evidence in a case. He revelled in knowing. Alec heard the lift arrive and he hoped it would be Will to step out. It was. He had changed his clothes and shaved. He looked fresh and smart in a silver grey suit and pale blue tie. The lab technician he was chatting to was getting his best Hollywood smile, and from the gleam in her eyes, she loved every second of it. They stepped out of the lift and continued their chitchat.

  “When you are ready, Detective,” the doctor’s tone turned sour. The jesting was over. Noticing his tone, everyone within earshot stopped talking.

  “Calm down,” Alec said beneath his breath. “Don’t make a big scene in front of everyone. We’re all tired, Doc.”

  “I am not tired, Superintendent,” Libby hissed. “Your DI was the cause of one of my best technicians leaving her post.”

  “She was a grown woman, Doctor.” Alec was curt and to the point. He didn’t have time for this. “Granted, their affair was less than discreet and her husband found out, but it was her own doing, nobody twisted her arm.”

  “That’s rubbish!” Graham Libby would never forgive Will for his unprofessionalism. “He crossed the line at work.”

  “Fine.” Alec looked at the scientists watching their conversation. “Bring it up when you’re asked to contribute to his annual review. Not here in the middle of the lab while your team have front row seats.”

  The doctor looked up at his staff. He coughed embarrassed and lowered his voice. “Well, he makes my blood boil, and seeing him flirting with another employee is like rubbing salt in the wounds.” The doctor turned and walked toward his desk. He couldn’t warm to the detective at all.

  “Morning, Guv, you look tired.” Will was blushing. He realised why the doctor was angry with him. The affair was public knowledge across the force and throughout the support departments, and Will had tried hard to curb his philandering ways. He did try to be subtle if he was chatting a female colleague up, but he wasn’t good at subtle. “Is the doctor taking the moral high ground again?” Will whispered, trying to make light of the situation.

  “He may be, but then again you could be taking the piss,” Alec replied quietly. He kept his face straight. This wasn’t the time or the place to be taking sides. He slapped Will between the shoulder blades a little too hard, and they followed the doctor.

  “Right you are, Guv.” Will stopped smiling and put his professional face on. He wished he could repair the damage he had done to his reputation, but mud stuck.

  Dr Libby picked up a brown envelope from his desk as they approached, removing a still and an autopsy report. He cleared his throat and talked directly to Alec, ignoring his colleague. Will was still in the doghouse.

  “Louise Parker’s injuries were so bad; we couldn’t determine the cause of death at first.” The doctor waved a finger. “Then we checked the x-rays of her body and we found this.”

  He placed an x-ray over an illuminator and pointed to the neck area of the spine. “If you look here, you can see that the neck was snapped cleanly, probably caused by a single quick twist of the head.”

  “That’s not something your average Joe could do,” Alec said. He studied the break. “This is something that someone with a military background or a serious martial arts exponent could execute.”

  “I agree,” the doctor nodded. “It is impossible to get such a clean break unless done by an expert.”

  “In contrast to the other murders, this was kind,” Alec said. “It put her out of her misery.”

  “Absolutely,” the doctor agreed enthusiastically. Spittle escaped his lips as he spoke. “It is totally out of context with her other injuries. The other injurie
s were inflicted to cause her as much pain as possible, but this break was meant to kill her quickly.”

  “That’s strange,” Alec said. “Maybe the killer had finished with her?”

  “I don’t think so, Alec.” The doctor was adamant. “The two mindsets are poles apart. One intended to cause terrible pain over a prolonged period. The other meant to end the torment.”

  “Maybe,” Will agreed. “That doesn’t help us much.”

  “Finding the cause of death in a murder investigation is critical, Detective.” The doctor looked irritated.

  “Not on its own, Doctor,” Will came back at him. “What else have you got?”

  “Could you two please remember why we’re here,” Alec spoke quietly. “Get on with the brief.” There was a look on his face, which dared them to challenge him.

  Graham Libby was livid, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “We have matched the blood type samples from Jamaica Street to one of your suspects.” He kept his opening pitch as vague as possible. It was all part of the fun of knowing. “We do not have all the results back yet, but these tests are conclusive.”

  “What have you got?” Alec repeated Will’s question. He pushed his fingers through his tousled sandy hair, lifting it off his face. The doctor was becoming annoying, more annoying than usual.

  “We tested blood, urine and excrement samples collected from the chair at the Parker scene.” The doctor looked over his glasses as he spoke. “We tested them, and they matched with samples taken from the home of?” he paused for the officers to guess.

  “Who?” Will shrugged. He didn’t want to wait or play the doctor’s game.

  “Get on with it,” Alec smiled.

  “Salim Oguzhan.” The doctor handed over two sets of results, one for each of the detectives. “It is too early to match the DNA, but the blood type is a match to his children.”