by Jay Gill
She grabbed her copy of the reports and we went over them page by page. “You know the facts,” she began. “Rape. Massive impact to the back of the skull. No signs of struggle.”
“They’re the facts,” I said.
“You want me to paint you a picture?”
“Yes,” I said. Although my heart was screaming no.
“He attacked them from behind with a blunt instrument of some kind. Most likely a regular hammer. He knocked them to the ground. Then, as they were dying or dead, he raped them. Then to be completely sure they were dead, he hit them repeatedly, to the point where their skulls were just pieces.”
Hard as it was, I had to picture Julia Moore and Ceri in the park suffering as they had. It made me almost physically ill. I asked reluctantly, “Anything else?”
“There was no sign of struggle. If it helps in any way, James, I would say your friend never knew a thing. Neither of them knew anything. The speed of the attack and level of violence saw to that.”
“Thank you, Heidi. I truly appreciate all you’ve done. As soon as this is all over, I’ll buy you dinner. You and me and the best bottle of wine.”
“Yeah, right. You just catch this bastard. Then we’ll talk about how you can repay me. I’m now thinking dinner, wine and a West End show.”
Chapter Fifteen
He wheeled his bike to the tree line and dropped it beside a large row of shrubs. Opening his rucksack, he took out his binoculars, cheese-and-pickle sandwiches and a bottle of lemonade.
After last time, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do this again. Then he’d told himself there was no harm in looking. Trouble was, he knew all too well what looking could lead to.
He put the binoculars to his eyes and let his hand rummage around for a sandwich. Retrieving a square from the silver foil, he took a bite and continued scanning the park.
Nope; jogger. Nope; dude in a suit, walking weirdly. Nope; boyfriend and girlfriend. Nope; group of mums with kids in buggies.
He sighed and lowered his binoculars. He shoved another sandwich in his mouth and took a swig of lemonade to make the bread soggy.
This was bad idea. He needed to stop. He’d already gone too far. He’d only meant to do it once. Now it was all he could think about. He checked his rucksack for a packet of crisps he knew full well he hadn’t brought. He wondered whether three was a better number to stop at. Three was a lucky number. Everyone knew that.
He’d spent a lot of time considering what part gave him the most pleasure. At first, he had thought it was doing something no one else dared.
Then, after the first one, he’d thought it was the sexual part of the attack but, having given that some thought, he’d realised it had meant nothing to him. It was nothing more than a way of degrading her further. Showing her how meaningless she was.
He put the last square of sandwich in his mouth and returned to scanning the park.
No, it was after the second one. It had come to him when he was in the back garden washing the hammer. That was when he understood about the feeling of power it gave him. Power was why he wanted to do it again. Knowing they had seen him, really seen him. They might have wanted to ignore him but they couldn’t. Given half a chance they’d have pleasantly smiled his way, just to be polite, and then moved on with whatever they had set out to do. If he hadn’t intervened, he would have remained insignificant.
His whole life had been a repeating pattern of abandonment, rejection, failure and fear. The only constant thing in his life was Mum. And that also filled him with fear: what if something happened to her?
He took a gulp of lemonade and leaned back on the grass. Looking up at the sky, he considered his options. What if he did it one more time? After all, the first two had been very easy.
The papers had started calling him the Regent’s Park Ripper. He probably had fans who were expecting an encore. There was no denying how good it would feel to get the hat-trick, the treble. After that he could assess the situation. He’d lie low for a while then start thinking about how he could improve things for Mum. To be fair, things had been just as hard for her as they had for him.
Slinging the rucksack on his back, he climbed onto his bike and pushed hard for home. He’d get things prepared and sleep on it. Things would seem clearer tomorrow.
Chapter Sixteen
He shut the door behind him and looked over the balcony. The coast was clear. Pulling his hood up, he shoved his hands in his pockets and headed for the stairwell. He listened. Satisfied, he started down. He took the steps one by one, tiptoeing, left-right-left-right, to get down them as fast as he could.
At the bottom he looked left and right and then bounded across the grass, over the wall and onto the pavement. The shop was just around the next corner. He wanted to get back as quickly as possible. Even better if he could do it without incident.
“I need my lotto tickets, and get me a couple of scratch cards at the same time. Would you do that for me?” she’d said.
He had known it was coming, but his heart had sunk all the same.
“Could you also get a steak and kidney pie for dinner? Does that sound nice? And don’t forget the milk. I’ve put the money by the door. I’m going to lie down for a bit. I’ve got one of my migraines coming on. You won’t forget, will you?”
No point telling her the lottery was money down the drain; he’d be wasting his breath. They’d had that conversation too many times before.
He could see the offy and the coast was clear. Everyone called it the offy because it sold cheap booze. In reality it was more of a mini-supermarket. He couldn’t remember a time when he couldn’t find what he needed right there in that shop. It was better when he was a kid and Mr Mason ran it, but he’d had a stroke and had to retire. Now some Indian fella ran it, and he’d never bothered to ask him his name. He was always friendly and smiling, but you didn’t talk to him. Everyone knew that.
He put the pie and milk on the counter and handed over Mum’s lotto numbers. It was the Indian’s daughter today. He stole a look at her. Pretty, very pretty.
“How’s your mum?” she said fondly. “Please tell her Snita says hello.”
“She’s all right. Yeah, I will.”
She handed him the tickets and put the pie and milk in a bag. “Your mum’s a lovely lady. She talks about you a lot. I’m Snita. We went to same school. I was a couple of years lower—”
He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He flushed and could feel himself burning up. She wasn’t being friendly, he could see that now: she was laughing at him. He grabbed the bag off the counter, knocking a charity collection tin on the floor, and rushed for the door. He turned and looked back, hesitated, then decided to leave it. The door slammed and rattled shut behind him. He stood on the pavement letting the outside air cool him down.
“Virgin,” yelled a voice. “Vir-gin, what you do-ing? Are you shop-ping for your mum-my? ’Ere – look that this, Virgin is out doin’ Mumsy’s shopping.”
He didn’t need to look. The voice was Brando’s.
He pulled up his hood again, shoulders hunched. He’d brave it out. He’d ignore them and say nothing until he got home. He thought of the two women. He was no virgin, but he wouldn’t tell them that. They were his, all his.
Brando tugged hard on his dog’s lead, some sort of Staffy-pit bull mix, allowing it to get close then yanking it back while it barked and snarled at him. He let it get extra close and then had to jump out of the way of its snapping teeth. This caused Brando, and the two slags he was with, to laugh and cheer.
“Loser weirdo,” called the girl he knew as Shaz. “Frightened of a dog?”
“Freakoid,” spat the girl called Jez. “Such a freak.”
He shut their voices out and picked up the pace. He wound the shopping bag around his hand so he could run without it swinging. Behind him the dog barked and the heckling continued.
He could see home now. He welcomed the feeling of relief, knowing he’d soon be safel
y inside.
He took the stairs two at a time and, before reaching the top, started rooting around in his pocket for the front door key. Never looking back, he slid the key into the lock. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it before sliding down to the floor. He rested and focused on controlling his breathing. His hands were trembling. He thumped the floor, then thumped it harder, again and again.
“Fuck.”
“That you?” called his mum. “Did you get the lotto ticket?”
Screw the lotto, he thought. Instead he said, his voice shaky, “Yes, Mum. I got it all.”
Chapter Seventeen
I got home to find Alice on her new smartphone and Faith perched next to her.
“I hope you haven’t been on that thing too long,” I said. “It’ll suck all the goodness out of that pretty little brain of yours.”
Faith looked horrified.
“Ignore him,” said Alice. “It won’t do that. He’s just being grumpy.”
I gave the girls a squeeze and a kiss on the head. “Five more minutes. Please do something else. Like pick up a book, maybe?”
I heard the girls groan as I entered the kitchen.
Mum was at the kitchen table reading the paper and enjoying a glass of ice-cold white wine.
“Something smells good,” I said, opening the oven door.
“Monica’s made shepherd’s pie. She’ll be back shortly. She’s gone to get some bits for the girls’ lunch boxes for school.”
I could feel Mum’s eyes on me as I grabbed a beer from the fridge. I topped up her wine glass and sat down opposite her. “And Dad?” I asked.
“He’s out tonight. Some golfing dinner. Not my sort of thing. He’s picking me up afterward. So long as he remembers.”
I took a long sip of beer and loosened my tie then undid my top button.
“Tough day?” asked Mum.
“The worst kind.”
“Want to talk?”
“Not really.”
“You know I’ve heard it all before. Your dad saw it all in his day. The good, the bad and the downright evil. There’s nothing new under the sun, as they say.”
I squeezed the back of my neck and put the cold bottle to my forehead. “I can’t say right now; it would be wrong.”
Mum closed the newspaper and slid it in front of me. “Anything to do with this?”
The paper’s headline read REGENT’S PARK RIPPER KILLS 2ND WOMAN. WHY?
I nodded. I couldn’t tell her more, so I kept my answer vague. “Yeah. It’s to do with that. Worse still, I knew her. She was a sweet girl. Very young. She was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I’m sorry, James. Like I’ve said so many times before, we need more bobbies on the beat, but instead there are cutbacks. And that puts pressure on those that remain. Look at you. You look like you’re ready to drop. You can’t keep this up indefinitely.”
“Not now, Mum. It’s been a long day. Even with more officers, he would have found a way. They always have and they always will.”
Mum tutted. I could see she wanted to say more, but for my sake she didn’t.
Monica arrived back with two bulging shopping bags. Alice and Faith raced to help her before I could get to my feet. They started checking the bags for goodies while conferring and lining up the treats on the work top.
“Hi, Mon,” I said. “You okay?”
“Yep, all good. Starving, but good.” She could sense the dark cloud hanging over us. “Are you two okay?”
I didn’t want Alice and Faith to hear anything, so I pointed discreetly to the newspaper headline.
“Okay,” she mouthed silently. “Maybe later.”
It had been a few days since I’d been able to sit down for an evening meal with everyone, and I’d missed it. The mood lightened once the food was on the table and the conversation turned to what was going on at school with Alice and Faith. Their adventures soon had us all laughing and joking and sharing our own stories, which, for a while, made us forget about the darker side of life.
Chapter Eighteen
Jensen had changed out of her uniform and was now looking more casual. The clothes transformed her. They were similar to those worn by Ceri, and it was hoped this would trigger a response in the killer. It was a dangerous game, as we were all well aware of how that response could look.
“Okay, she’s ready. Let’s get this show on the road,” said Fuller as Jensen disappeared into the ladies’ changing room again. “We have a green light from the boss. Let’s see if we can catch ourselves a fish.”
I didn’t like Fuller’s implication that Jensen was bait and we were trying to catch some small fish. This guy was no fish; he was a predatory shark. My other problem was Fuller’s assumption that by simply dangling a line in the water we’d get a bite. I wanted to take a more proactive approach.
“Let’s delay the operation,” I said to Fuller, making sure Jensen was out of earshot.
“What? Are you kidding? Do you have any idea how hard it was to get Webster to sign off on this?”
“I think I do. And I’m not saying we don’t do it. I’m suggesting we hold off until we’ve pursued other avenues first.”
“Come on, let’s not go over this again. Sitting around hoping for a result on the sex offenders register is a waste of time. You said yourself it’s a long shot.”
“Then the other option is that we go door-to-door,” I said.
“You’re kidding, right? Do you know how long that will take? You said yourself that we don’t have much time. You said the clock is ticking. How many officers do you think we’d need to canvas the homes around the Regent’s Park area? Forget it. Our best option is for him to come to us. If we’re going to catch the Regent’s Park Ripper, we have to draw him out and catch him in the act.”
“The level of violence he’s prepared to inflict makes this approach dangerous.”
“Jensen’s a big girl; she’s smart and she can handle herself. And we’ve got more than enough officers for this kind of surveillance. She will be monitored at all times. We’ve even got some spotty-kid officer flying a drone overhead.”
Jensen heard her name mentioned and joined us. “What am I missing?” she asked.
I kept quiet. The worst thing I could do was introduce doubt into her mind; she needed to remain sharp.
Fuller raised a hand to me in a way that said “Go on – you tell her she’s in danger.”
“We were just discussing which area of the park to focus on first. It’s a big park.”
“The Regent’s Park, as it is officially known, is 166 acres, which is roughly equivalent to 111 football pitches,” Jensen said, as though reciting at school. “It contains Regent’s University London and the London Zoo. As well as several public gardens and some formal gardens, there’s a lake and an open-air theatre. There is also the Regent’s Canal, which runs through the northern end of the park and connects the Grand Union Canal to the London docks.”
Fuller laughed and slapped my shoulder. “I told you she’s smart. Now, Jensen, what have I told you about spending too much time on Wikipedia? You need to get out more.”
I kept my expression neutral. I was less and less crazy about the idea, but I could see Fuller’s point and I had to remember this wasn’t my case. I could voice my concerns but, in the end, I had been brought in to advise.
Although I tried to hide it, Jensen could see the concern on my face. “I’m all right with this,” she said. “I volunteered, remember? And anyway, you’ve got my back, right?”
I didn’t find her air of confidence convincing. It was apparent neither of us was completely happy with Fuller’s decision. All I could do now was be a part of the team and ensure every step possible was taken to ensure Jensen’s safety.
“Damn right. If anyone even looks in your direction, you’ll know about it. You have my word.”
“In that case, what are we waiting for? Let’s do it.”
Jensen was as tough as any detective I
’d known, and tougher than some. She was also smart enough to be scared, but there was no way on earth she was going to let anyone there sense it.
Chapter Nineteen
We couldn’t have undercover officers on the ground walking close by. The operation depended on the Regent’s Park Ripper believing Jensen was a vulnerable woman out by herself using the park. We were setting a trap for a predatory killer who was picking off those weaker than he in an ambush-style attack.
Instead, we had to make sure Jensen was forewarned of anyone approaching so she could protect herself until help arrived.
She was a well-trained officer, and she was wearing a lightweight stab vest under her sweater. She was carrying pepper spray and had a taser tucked inside her handbag. But I knew that her knowing self-defence and combat techniques would do her no good if she was knocked unconscious by an unexpected blow from behind.
We were monitoring Jensen as she walked the chosen route. It passed the locations of the two earlier attacks and seemed like the logical point at which to start the operation. I could only imagine what was going through Jensen’s head each time she approached the crime scenes.
The park was full of open space, and for the operation to be convincing there could be no sign of anyone else around when the Ripper approached.
We were close by, but not too close; it would take nearly a minute and half for any officer to get to her. In that time Jensen was on her own and would need to defend herself. To say I wasn’t happy was an understatement.
For two days, we had nothing. Each day was excruciating, as we couldn’t let our guard down for a second.
“How are we doing, team?” Jensen asked us via her microphone on the evening of the second day. “You’ve got eyes on me, right? You haven’t popped out for pizza, I hope?”
Jensen was heading in the direction of the bandstand, close to where Ceri had been murdered.