Rogue Killer

by Leigh Russell

  ‘You’re the only one who can make that decision.’

  He shook his head.

  ‘You can only try again if you really want to. You were happy together once –’

  ‘Were we?’ he interrupted her again. ‘Were we ever happy together?’

  Geraldine remembered how he used to grumble that his wife constantly complained that he was married to his job. Living with a police officer didn’t suit everyone.

  ‘The trouble is, she’s on her own now and I don’t know what to do. Help me out, here, Geraldine. I feel as though I’m drowning.’

  ‘You can’t take her back just because you feel sorry for her,’ Geraldine said quietly. ‘That’s not a good idea. What if you meet someone else?’

  ‘What if I already have?’ he replied so softly she nearly missed his words.

  Geraldine remembered how Naomi followed Ian around and nodded.

  ‘Well,’ she said briskly, ‘it’s up to you. I’m off home. See you tomorrow.’

  Afraid her dismay might show in her face, she turned and hurried to her car.

  54

  The next morning they received a message to say that Lindsey had left the house. A constable had followed her to Sainsbury’s and was waiting outside the store for her to come out. Geraldine drove straight there. Instructing the constable to stay at the exit in case Lindsey left before Geraldine found her, she went into the store. If the constable hadn’t warned her that Lindsey was wearing a blue head scarf, Geraldine might have missed her. As it was, she spotted her, partly because she was so tall. She watched her as far as the tills and then slipped outside to wait for her. Despite Lindsey’s protestations to the contrary, if there was still the faintest chance she might be going to see Jamie they had to keep tailing her. When Lindsey left the store on foot Geraldine decided to follow her, even though there didn’t seem to be much point. With just one carrier bag that looked half empty, Lindsey set off in the direction of her home but instead of going straight there she walked down into town. Geraldine hung back before following her.

  If Lindsey had glanced back even once, she might have spotted Geraldine behind her, but she never looked round. That alone suggested she was innocent of any wrongdoing. Nevertheless, Geraldine followed her all the way to a lingerie store. After half an hour Lindsey emerged from the shop and went home. Leaving a constable watching the house, Geraldine went back to the shop Lindsey had visited. A neatly dressed middle-aged shop assistant approached her.

  ‘I’m not here to make a purchase,’ Geraldine said, gazing around at the elegant lacy lingerie. ‘Although it all looks very nice,’ she added politely.

  ‘What can I help you with then?’

  ‘A lady left here a short while ago. She’s tall, with very long dark hair, and she was wearing a long coat.’

  ‘Oh yes, I know who you mean. How can I help you?’

  ‘Is she a regular customer?’

  ’Regular?’

  ‘Has she been in here before?’

  The woman screwed up her face. ‘I really couldn’t say.’

  Geraldine paused. She wasn’t quite sure what she was doing there. The shop assistant wasn’t going to be able to tell her anything about Lindsey but, before she could leave, the woman detained her.

  ‘Can I interest you in our sale items?’

  ‘Thank you, but no. I’m not looking to make a purchase today.’

  A young girl standing behind the counter had overheard their exchange.

  ‘I’ve seen her in here before,’ she called out as Geraldine walked towards the door.

  Geraldine looked round. ‘Are you sure?’

  The older woman frowned but the girl nodded. ‘She’s hardly the sort of person you can forget, is she?’

  Geraldine considered. ‘Do you mean because she’s tall?’

  The girl paused, considering. ‘It’s more because of her make-up. I notice these things because we have to be careful when customers are trying things on.’

  The older woman nodded. ‘Yes, that’s true. But who are you and what exactly are you doing here?’

  Geraldine identified herself and explained that the woman she was enquiring about might be able to assist the police with an investigation.

  ‘Well, there is something else,’ the young assistant said.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I don’t know. She’s –’ The girl paused, seemingly uncertain whether to continue. ‘She’s very particular about trying on bras,’ she said at last.

  ‘Particular in what way?’

  ‘She refuses to be measured.’

  ‘Is that unusual?’

  ‘It’s not unheard of, but slightly unusual, yes, I’d say so. I mean, why wouldn’t you want a bra that fits well? But then, some women are very shy about being fitted.’

  The older woman interrupted sharply. ‘Our customers’ preferences are not something we talk about.’ She lowered her voice. ‘She may have had a mastectomy. Women can be embarrassed about things like that, although I don’t know why they would mind in here. We’re very discreet and it’s not something to be ashamed of. But in any case –’

  Geraldine took a step towards the other two women. ‘Did she ever mention a man called Jamie?’

  The shop assistants looked at one another.

  ‘No,’ the older woman replied.

  ‘Or say anything about a man she was living with?’

  ‘No,’ the woman said, more firmly. ‘We don’t gossip here.’

  ‘She never said anything to me apart from asking about our stock,’ the younger woman confirmed.

  Geraldine thanked them and left. There had been no real point in her questioning the women in the shop, but she wanted to speak to everyone who had been in contact with Lindsey, in case they could pass on any information. So far no one had given her anything.

  Checking with the surveillance team, Geraldine found out that Lindsey was still at home. There was no sign of Jamie. Having wasted the best part of the day on a pointless chase, Geraldine went back to the office.

  ‘You’d think she’d want to help us,’ Ariadne said. ‘What if he turns up again. She could be in danger. She could be next.’

  ‘I don’t think she ever met him, and there’s no reason why he would return to that house. It was a false lead,’ Ian replied.

  ‘Let’s hope so for her sake.’

  ‘Well, we’re keeping a watch on the house, but we can’t keep that up forever,’ Geraldine added.

  ‘Let’s hope we find him soon. If we don’t, you’re right, Lindsey might end up as his next victim,’ Ian said.

  ‘Anyone could,’ Geraldine agreed miserably. ‘He doesn’t seem to have been very choosy about who he’s killed so far.’

  The media had already picked up on the fact that a serial killer had claimed three victims in the past month. It was difficult for the police to continue sending out positive messages to reassure the public when they were being criticised for incompetence. What made the situation worse was that the reporters were right. The police had found nothing to connect the three victims, and they had no idea where the killer was. For all they knew, he might be preparing to claim his next victim while they were casting around helplessly for a lead.

  That evening Geraldine and Ariadne had arranged to go out for a curry. The investigation was wearing everyone down and they were both subdued. By tacit agreement they did their best to avoid talking about work, turning instead to personal matters.

  ‘How come you’re still single?’ Geraldine enquired, ‘If you don’t mind my asking.’

  ‘No, that’s fine,’ Ariadne responded with an easy smile. ‘I guess I’ve just never met the right man. I mean, I’ve had boyfriends, quite a few actually, back in the day.’ She laughed.

  Geraldine could believe that. With lively dark eyes and clear skin, Ariadne seemed to g
low with health and a quiet confidence that made her very attractive.

  ‘Back in the day?’ Geraldine echoed, with a smile.

  ‘Maybe that was part of the problem,’ Ariadne added. ‘I was spoilt for choice really, so I couldn’t decide who to settle for.’

  ‘It does sound as though you haven’t met the right man yet. If you had, you wouldn’t be talking about settling for someone, as though you had to choose the least bad option.’

  ‘Yet?’ Ariadne repeated. ‘I’ll be thirty-eight soon.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So I need to get a move on if I’m going to have a family.’

  ‘Meeting someone doesn’t mean you have to have children.’

  Ariadne laughed. ‘If you had a Greek mother, you wouldn’t say that.’

  It was a relief to sit and chat for a while as though they hadn’t a care in the world, but it wasn’t long before they were drawn back to the case.

  ‘I just can’t help thinking he might still be around here in York somewhere,’ Geraldine said. ‘It doesn’t seem possible he would have escaped attention if he’d travelled anywhere in the country.’

  ‘Unless he’s gone off the beaten track where no one can possibly see him.’

  Geraldine frowned. ‘We’re missing something.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If you were a man and you wanted to hide, where would you go to be sure no one would ever find you?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Ariadne replied with a half-smile. ‘If I knew that, I might be able to find him.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Geraldine said. ‘We’re missing something.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  Geraldine sighed. She couldn’t explain her feeling that they were overlooking an obvious lead.

  55

  Everywhere he looked, he came across accounts of himself. The media had discovered where he grew up, and where he went to school, and seemed to take great delight in describing his victims’ injuries in minute detail. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought the violence of his attacks on them had been exaggerated. Journalists often embellished the truth in an attempt to sell more papers. But every gruesome detail they reported was true. He knew that better than anyone.

  A reporter had taken the trouble to visit the Yorkshire village where he had been born and brought up, and had taken photos of his old school, and the village church. Jamie had never met the local vicar, but that didn’t deter a journalist from questioning him and reporting the whole ensuing dull conversation. The landlord of the village pub claimed to remember Jamie drinking there regularly as a young man, even though Jamie could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he had set foot in there. Another journalist had spoken to his junior school teacher, who remembered him as a ‘troubled child’.

  They had tracked down his father who had refused to answer any questions. That was typical. His father had never been willing to open his mouth to anyone. He had admitted to a reporter only that he had spoken to the police and told them everything he knew about his son. As if that was going to help them. Jamie laughed. His father had thought he was dead. That wasn’t going to help anyone.

  The local news was full of articles about him and his exploits. He could hardly turn the television on without seeing artists’ impressions of his face, or out-of-date images that reporters had dredged up from somewhere. One of his parents’ neighbours had been quoted in several papers, talking about how she had always suspected there was something psychologically wrong with him. In reality, the old bitch had barely even spoken to him. He didn’t care about their tittle tattle. People could make up as many insulting stories about him as they liked. If it brightened up their pathetic and boring lives, good luck to them. Far from finding the lies galling, he was amused.

  ‘He never actually attacked anyone physically,’ a former classmate at school was quoted as saying, on one of the news channels, ‘but there were certainly times when he made us all feel very uncomfortable. That’s why we stopped having anything to do with him. Everyone used to avoid him when he lived around here. But I don’t think any of us had any idea what he was capable of. Now he’s left the neighbourhood I feel a lot safer, and I’ll feel even better when they put him behind bars, where he belongs. If he ever shows his face around here again, they’ll lock him up in prison, which is where he deserves to be. He’s worse than an animal.’

  There was a lot more along those lines, most of it from people claiming to have known what he was really like before he moved to York, which was all lies because no one had really known him back then. For three days, the phone had hardly stopped ringing, with reporters calling to find out if he had returned to the house in York that he had rented for a while. Lindsey had steadfastly refused to meet any of them in person. After a while she had tired of the constant barrage of questions and refused to talk to them anymore, until they had more or less given up phoning her.

  ‘I’ve told you I don’t know anyone called Jamie,’ she had insisted.

  That wasn’t entirely true, but in the end the reporters had believed her.

  Only one journalist had persisted in trying to contact her. Desperate for a scoop, he had even followed her when she left the house, and tried to question her as she walked to the shops. She was wearing dark glasses in an attempt to hide her identity so only someone who had seen her leaving the house would have known who she was. She had been forced to threaten to complain to his editor, and report him to the police, before he finally left her alone.

  But for all their pestering, no one from the police or the media had picked up any information about where he was hiding. He had never for one moment feared that they would. Lindsey was the only person who had any idea where he was, and she was never going to give him away. All he had to do was stay off the radar and wait for the hunt to die down. The police were tenacious bastards, but even they would be forced to give up in the end. Once that happened, the coast would be clear for him to reappear. He would have to change his name, but that wasn’t difficult. He’d done it before. In the meantime, he intended to remain out of sight. As long as Lindsey kept her mouth shut, that wouldn’t be a problem. And he knew she wouldn’t blab.

  The police were never going to find him because he had the perfect hiding place. Thinking about the police running around, asking questions, checking details, and holding earnest meetings about where to look for him, made him laugh. The situation was priceless. He had outsmarted everyone. Most amusing of all were the bold statements the police persisted in issuing. ‘We are following several leads,’ they said, and, ‘A man is helping us with our enquiries’. He could have revealed that those claims were no more than wishful thinking. They had even announced that they expected to make an arrest soon, implying they knew where he was. Each expression of confidence only served to further expose their ignorance of his identity. The truth was they were as close to making an arrest as they were to landing on the moon.

  He did his best to remain composed, but couldn’t stop laughter bubbling up from somewhere deep inside his chest. It spread across his shoulders and up into his throat until his whole body shook with it. Finally, unable to control himself, he had to sit down because he was laughing so hard. He laughed until his eyes watered and his stomach hurt and he was gasping for breath. The police had not only got hold of the wrong end of the stick, they were grasping at the wrong stick.

  56

  On her way home after the meal that evening, Geraldine decided to make one last attempt to speak to Lindsey on the off chance that she would see sense and agree to share some information that might help them. Even if she knew nothing about Jamie herself, it was just possible she had seen a testimonial from the previous tenant, or found a business card he had left behind. Any small snippet of intelligence might provide them with a much needed lead.

  Once again, no one answered when she rang the bell, so after st
anding on the doorstep for about five minutes, she went home. There was nothing more she could do but wait, along with the rest of the team investigating the recent murders. The surveillance on Lindsey had stopped now that the house had been searched. It certainly appeared that Jamie was still alive and had been to the house in the past few weeks, before the DNA on the door frame had time to deteriorate in the rain and air, but they had no idea where he was now. It also appeared that Edward Drury had lied about Jamie having died overseas, but there was nothing they could do about it. He remained adamant that he believed his son was dead. In the meantime, a nationwide hunt for Jamie had been put in place and the local police could only press on with their DNA testing, sit it out, and hope to find their suspect soon.

  Geraldine had a missed call from Celia that evening. By the time she reached home she thought it was too late to phone her back, but Celia called again, agog with the news she had seen about the hunt for the killer.

  ‘That’s the case you’re working on, isn’t it?’

  Geraldine admitted it was. ‘But the investigation has moved way beyond York,’ she added. ‘We don’t even know if he’s still in the area. He could be anywhere.’

  ‘What? You mean he could be here?’

  Geraldine laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I don’t think he would have gone all the way to Kent.’

  ‘But he could have. You just told me you don’t know where he is. You said he could be anywhere.’

  ‘Don’t start imagining things. He couldn’t have travelled all that way without being spotted. The chances are he’s almost certainly hiding out somewhere near York. Don’t forget we’ve got the whole of the police force out looking for him. The further he travels, the more he exposes himself to being spotted, and that makes him very vulnerable.’

  ‘I don’t think he’s the vulnerable one,’ Celia muttered.