by Jay Gill
Cutler needed to return to his safe place, to keeping a low profile. He needed to put some distance between himself and recent. . . He searched for the word. Showy. Recent showy events.
In among the tickets he hoped he’d find her. More than ever, she must remind him of Amanda. Only someone extra special would do this time. She’d help him get back to where he needed to be. Amanda had always known what was best for him. Once he’d spoken to her again and was calm inside, he could focus on getting Melanie and his boys back.
Melanie still hadn’t made contact, and that worried him. She’d never been gone this long before without letting him know she was safe. He parked those thoughts for now. One thing at a time.
He studied the tickets as though his life depended on it.
Chapter Fifty-Five
I watched Rayner yawn, and it made me yawn. I tried to stifle it but couldn’t. With only seven hours’ sleep in the last seventy-two hours, we were dead on our feet. The problem was, we just couldn’t stop. The adrenaline was pumping and the investigation now felt like a roller coaster plunging headlong down its tracks. The more we analysed the life of Michael Cutler, the more convinced we became that this unassuming family man was our guy. I’d pulled in extra help to get the background checking done as fast as possible, and I still felt we were going too slowly. No one wanted to nail Cutler more than I did, but I knew the best way to do it was to do it right. I wanted no mistakes. Cutler had to be locked up for the rest of his life.
Our enquiries showed that Cutler, the Angel Killer, had moved around a lot before finally marrying five years ago. At that point, he’d taken a full-time job as regional manager at Cassley Shoes, and this, to my mind, was no coincidence. His job gave him the opportunity to move from town to town.
My whole team were working on piecing together as much of his early life as possible. Making careful phone calls to his friends, girlfriends, colleagues, landlords, neighbours and employers. Checking, double-checking, cross-referencing and documenting.
Anyone or anything that helped build the picture of Cutler’s life was important. It was painstaking work. Frustrating and slow at times but, equally, rewarding every time one of us got a piece to add to the puzzle. Those moments lifted our spirits, spurred us on and kept us going. Each fragment felt like a big win.
With most of the groundwork in place, Rayner and I focused on investigating unsolved murders that coincided with Cutler’s time in a given area. As soon as we heard of a town Cutler had stay at or lived in or visited, we investigated. We checked the national database and followed up by contacting local detectives. It wasn’t long before a pattern emerged, and we eventually uncovered more victims with similarities to the Angel Killer murders.
I called Rayner over and showed him what I had. “That’s it. I’ve got Cutler in Edinburgh and Glasgow eight years ago; during that period alone, three women disappeared. The cases were never solved. The lead detective I spoke to in Glasgow remembers one of the victims had her wrists slit for her and then her arms were folded over her chest, post-mortem. He’s making some calls for us and checking the other two cases.”
I could see Rayner was ready to go pick Cutler up. “I’ve got him in Carmarthenshire, Swansea, Aberystwyth and about a half dozen small towns dotted all over Wales between 2009 and 2011. So far there are eleven possibles that fit the profile of our Angels. How the hell did this nobody fly under the radar for so long?”
“That’s just it – he’s a nobody. Mr Beige, Mr Average. To look at him and speak to him, you’d never guess he was any different to anyone else.
“Then again, how many times have we said the same thing? The killers with an ego or with something to prove are the easiest to catch. They can’t resist putting on a show. This guy, though – whatever’s motivating him, it isn’t for anyone else’s benefit. The compulsion reflects a very personal need.”
“I don’t care what his motives are. Let’s go and talk to him. I’m ready to sit him down and squeeze him,” insisted Rayner.
I was ahead of Rayner on this one, but I had concerns.
“If we’re going to do this, let’s do it quietly, just you and me. A big operation risks alerting him. If this guy gets a whiff of what’s going on and gets nervous, he could vanish. Then he could go on killing, undetected, for another ten or twenty years. Neither of us wants that on our conscience.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
I was on edge as we sat across the street watching the Angel Killer’s house. Right now, I wanted nothing more than to get Michael Cutler off the streets. How he’d managed to go undetected, killing at will, for at least a decade was a question we’d ask ourselves another day. There would be time enough later to identify investigative mistakes, and right now that was of no interest to me.
I kept the car ice cold. We were both fighting exhaustion and we needed to stay alert. The strong coffee and Mars bars helped, but we were really feeling it as we sat idly watching the house.
“Do you think his wife had any idea?” asked Rayner.
“I doubt it. Probably not. How could she?” I didn’t like to think she was a party to what Cutler was capable of. It was especially hard to imagine she knew anything of his crime when she was a mother of two young boys.
“I’m just wondering why she left him. Why now?”
Rayner had a good point; it did seem more than a coincidence. “Maybe his behaviour has changed and she didn’t like what she was seeing. She felt scared, perhaps? Maybe for herself or for the boys? Don’t know. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” I looked at my watch. “Where is this bloke?”
Rayner smiled. “I was just thinking about the saying ‘It’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for.’ I reckon Cutler is a good example of that, wouldn’t you say?”
Before I could answer, we caught sight of a blue Ford Mondeo approaching from behind.
“I think this is our boy,” I said.
The car slowed as it approached the house, then stopped. Rayner and I sank down in our seats. But instead of parking, the car started moving again and began to gather speed. We watched as it paused at the traffic lights at the end of the road and then took a right turn.
“He’s made us,” I said through gritted teeth. “How the hell did he see us? Did something spook him? We need to stop him.” I sat up in the seat, put the car in gear and pulled out onto the road.
This was the worst possible outcome. We couldn’t leave him free to continue his killing spree. All I could think now was that I’d made a mistake; perhaps we should have looked at a large-scale approach to take him down. I shook it off. I accelerated up to the junction and, ignoring the lights, took a right turn. Rayner called for backup and gave the description and number plate of the Mondeo.
“There – three cars ahead, in front of that dark-grey Peugeot,” he barked at me.
“I see him.” I accelerated again but got blocked by a cyclist and couldn’t get around. I didn’t want to hit the siren yet; I wasn’t close enough. And if it wasn’t us that had spooked him, I didn’t want to give up any element of surprise we still might have. Instead, I leaned on the car’s horn. The cyclist turned and looked at me. Quite possibly with justification, he gave me the finger. To his credit, he did give me space to get around and, as we passed, he left me in no doubt of what he thought of me and my driving.
Once again, I put my foot down. For a moment I thought we’d lost Cutler but, as we approached, I could see he’d stopped up ahead at another set of traffic lights. I slowed up, and as I did so Rayner flung open his door, leapt out and ran alongside the traffic to the blue Mondeo.
I abandoned the car and followed him. This was it: I could feel it. We had him. I was running as fast as I could on the left side of the traffic, and I could see Rayner on the right side of the Mondeo, pulling open the driver’s door.
As I arrived at the car, I could see Rayner with his hands on his head, looking in all different directions.
“He’s gone. The bloody car’s empty. He’
s taken off on foot. Shit.”
All around us car horns started blaring. Police sirens wailed some way off as squad cars approached. Rayner and I ignored everything around us as we ran back and forth, frantically trying to find any sign of where Cutler had gone. It was no use. We’d missed our chance. I’d messed up. He’d vanished. All I could think now was that if he killed again it’d be on me. I could have stopped him, but I’d screwed up.
I felt sick to my stomach.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Cutler got out of the car and ran. As he’d approached the house, something felt wrong. It had been instinct, a sixth sense, luck, divine intervention, call it what you will. Something had told him to go once more around the block. If he hadn’t made the decision to keep going, he’d most likely have been in a cell right now.
Looking in the rear-view mirror, he’d seen the car following him. He saw it swerve to avoid a cyclist and he knew instantly it was the police. At the traffic lights he’d tried to edge out into the road, to keep moving, but it was no use. The road was gridlocked. Instead, he grabbed his bag and got out. He ran as fast as he could while lugging everything he had. He didn’t know where he was headed and that didn’t matter. All that mattered at that moment was putting space between him and his pursuers.
He was sitting at the counter of a coffee shop now, catching his breath.
“Are you okay, honey?” said the waitress. “You look like a little lost lamb.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. Are you wanting to close?”
“We’re open for another hour, sweetheart. You’re fine. Can I get you anything?”
“Another coffee would be great. Thank you. Americano, please, no milk.’
“Coming right up.” The waitress, who reminded him of a plump, motherly Susan Sarandon, cleared tables around him before returning a few minutes later with fresh coffee. “You know, whatever it is, I bet it isn’t half as bad as you think it is.”
“Unfortunately, I think I’ve come to the end of the road. I’ve now just got to figure out which of all the poor choices ahead of me to make.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, honey.”
“Don’t be. I’ve been a bit of a monster, and knowing it’s almost over is somewhat of a relief.”
The waitress laughed and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure a sweet-looking young man like you could never have been that bad. Perhaps you just need to go home to your family and talk it over. Let them know how you’re feeling. Most of us don’t share our feelings half as much as we should, not even to our nearest and dearest.”
Cutler nursed his coffee and wrestled with his thoughts. It took him a while to figure out what he had to do, but eventually he understood. It was time to pay Melanie and his boys one last visit.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Alice and Faith had kept the secret. They whispered advice, tactics and instructions before Mum and Dad whisked them away. They also made me promise I’d call them as soon as I had any news, good or bad.
Monica was back from France, and I had somehow managed to organise cover with Rayner so I could take her to Dorset. She assumed this was nothing more than an opportunity to relax together by the coast. We both hoped for some grown-up time; a nice meal and a romantic walk or two.
I think Monica assumed I was also visiting Dorset to speak to local police. I’d recently been part of a team aiming to arrest serial killer Vladimir “The Wolf” Kastrati, who was living in a luxury home in Sandbanks. During the raid things had gone a little sideways, and I think Monica believed my choice of Dorset had something to do with that. She didn’t like to ask too many questions about my work, and that worked in my favour right now.
We arrived at the Haven Hotel. “I’ve booked two standard rooms under the name James Hardy,” I told the receptionist.
She looked at us and then at the reservations. “Yes, thank you. One night. I will arrange for your bags to be taken to your rooms. Will you be dining with us tonight? Our fine dining restaurant overlooks the sea and has views across to Studland Bay. The evening views as the sun sets are spectacular.”
“That sounds lovely,” said Monica.
We took a walk to the balcony and stood looking across the water. Small boats moved effortlessly across the bay, and the chain-link ferry went back and forth with commuters and holiday makers. “We could have shared a room, you know, James. I know you’d behave appropriately.”
“Now you tell me,” I said with a smile.
“Two rooms is very sweet of you. You’re a real gentleman.”
Monica leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I was probably reading more into it than I should, but for some reason her kiss gave me hope we still had a chance. Or was it simply her way of letting me down gently, a way of leaving me with fond memories of her?
After a wonderful meal of fresh local seafood and quality wine, we went back onto the balcony and looked out across the waves at the setting sun.
Monica told me all about her opportunity in France, and I listened as a friend. Even though it would break my heart if she left, I wanted to be there for her so that when the time came, she would make an informed decision. Eventually, she turned and looked at me quizzically.
“So, what’s on your mind, James? I appreciate you being so supportive. I know this is hard for both of us. In the long run, though, it’s for the best. The time feels right for us to move to the next chapter of our lives.” Monica reached out and took my hand. I put my arm around her waist and turned her towards me.
It was now or never. “Please listen to what I have to say. I want you to know I’ve given this a lot of thought. I have no doubts. None. And if you still decide to leave after I’ve finished, I will respect that. It will break my heart, but I’ll respect your decision.
“I can’t imagine my life without you. When I see my future, I see you in it. I desperately don’t want you to leave. I want to give you my all. I want to look after you. I want to make you happy and make you laugh. I want to comfort you when you’re upset, and I want to love you for the rest of my life.”
I looked into her eyes to see if I could read her thoughts.
“There’s something else I need you to know,” I said. “I’m leaving Scotland Yard.”
I watched as Monica’s expression changed to one of shock.
“I can’t go on the way I have done. I’ve put in for a transfer to Dorset. I made some calls, and there’s an opportunity, a new role for me as a police consultant and trainer. It’ll mean a fresh start. For all of us. As soon as I’m able to, I’d like us to move here.” My heart was pounding and my face was hot. I’d given it all I had, and I prayed it was enough. “I love you. I know it’s a lot to take in, but please say you’ll think about it.”
“No,” said Monica. “I’m sorry, James.” Her face was solemn and she looked me straight in the eye.
My heart sank. I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right.
“I don’t understand,” I said. I was confused. In my mind I’d heard her say yes. Every time, she’d said yes.
“No, I don’t need to think about it. I love you, James Hardy. I just needed to hear from your heart and see in your eyes that you felt the same.”
That night we made love for the first time. Then I held her gently in my arms and we talked until the early hours. We made plans and we made promises. In the morning we made love again.
I watched Monica skip naked across the room to take a shower. I listened to her singing and humming the parts where she didn’t know the words. A smile spread across my face. I had never felt happier. Everything was going to be perfect.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Mum and Dad were at the house with Alice and Faith when Monica and I arrived back from Dorset.
“The girls wanted to be here when you got back,” said Mum, apologetically. “They were so excited. Every five minutes they’ve been asking when you’ll be back.” She kept talking, but she could see the new closeness between Monic
a and me.
“Nice weekend?” said Dad.
I put my arm around Monica and kissed her. “Yes, very nice. Perfect, in fact.”
“It was wonderful,” said Monica, blushing slightly. “And what about you two little monsters?” she said, turning to Alice and Faith. “Have you been behaving for your Nana and Granddad?”
Mum couldn’t contain herself; she caught Monica and squashed her in a bear hug. She kissed her and said simply, “Oh, sweetheart. I’m so happy. You don’t know how happy this makes me.” She put out her hand and pulled me over. “And you – it’s about time. Look at the two of you.” She turned to Dad. “I knew it. I just knew it. This is so perfect. You two look so perfect. I told you something was up, didn’t I?”
“Yes, honey. You did.” Dad winked at Monica. “You always know. You’re a real Miss Marple.”
Alice and Faith started pretending to kiss and then began singing together, “Daddy and Monica, sitting in a tree, K - I – S - S - I - N - G.”
“Are you getting married now?” asked Faith. “Can I be a bridesmaid?”
“That’s all she’s talked about the whole weekend. ‘Will they get married?’” said Alice.
Mum saved the day. “Marriage is not something we should talk about right now. Let’s celebrate the moment. There must be a bottle of—”
“Does this mean we’re definitely moving to the seaside?” blurted Faith.
Dad looked alarmed. Mum still had no idea about my stepping down as a Scotland Yard detective or that we were moving one hundred and fifty miles away. I hadn’t had a chance to speak to her. I had wanted to talk to her myself at the right moment.