by Max Manning
Turner smiled as she led the detectives to the front door. “After all these years. How strange.”
* * *
A blanket of gray cloud had settled over south London, dumping its rain on Croydon’s tower blocks and skyscrapers. Day stared out the passenger window, watching the raindrops bouncing in the gutter.
The windshield wipers swished loudly, fighting a losing battle with the downpour. Shields squinted through the rain-blurred glass and pulled up at a red traffic light.
“Norton didn’t show up on the databases because I didn’t check the missing persons records,” she said. “We only looked for information on past offenders or people who’d been arrested, charged, or cautioned.” The traffic light changed to green, and she moved off slowly.
“No point worrying about it now,” Day said. “How were you supposed to know that he was in the records as a missing person? No one’s going to blame you, so don’t blame yourself.”
“I don’t.”
“Good. The important thing is that we now know a lot more about Norton’s background. He ran away from Greenhills seven years ago, and all that time, he’s been lurking in the backstreets of London. Now, it seems, for some reason, he’s had enough of lying low. Maybe he simply got fed up of crawling around in the shadows.”
The heavy rain had reduced the flow of traffic to a crawl. Day estimated that the drive to the station was going to take them at least an hour.
“As soon as we get back, I want you to pull everything available on the Mary Freeman inquiry. I’m sure she’ll be on the missing persons list too, but because of her age, there’s no doubt the Croydon police would have considered her disappearance suspicious.”
“Do you think it could have had anything to do with Norton going missing from the home? Now that we know what we know about him?”
Day took a moment to consider the question. He assumed that at the time, the police investigation would have found out if the two teenagers had known each other. Seven years on, Norton had revealed himself as a cold-blooded killer. When he went missing, it was assumed he was nothing more sinister than a teenage runaway. Was it possible the girl was his first victim?
“The fact that the girl disappeared around the same time as Norton ran away from the home isn’t proof of anything, is it?” Shields said.
Day shook his head. He so wanted to agree with her, but deep down, he knew better. “Considering what we know about Norton now, do you really think that’s likely?”
Shields kept her eyes on the bumper of the car ahead and said nothing, her silence answer enough.
Day closed his eyes and tried to picture Norton as a fresh-faced, happy-go-lucky teenager. No chance.
“I bet there are plenty of files stashed away in the care system on Norton’s mental state as a youngster. I’m guessing the children’s home would have laid on therapy sessions for him and he would have lapped up the attention. I’d like you to dig them out and we can get a psychological profiler to take a look at them. See what they come up with.”
Shields nodded and Day turned back to the window. Somewhere out there, he thought, on a bleak south London housing estate, Mary Freeman’s parents were probably still sipping tea, or numbing the pain with something stronger, as they waited for a call from the police.
All these years on, the best they could hope for would be that their little girl had despised them so much, she’d decided that running away would be a good option, that she’d survived, built herself a new life, and that she couldn’t be bothered to ease their suffering by letting them know she was alive and well.
Day knew that was an unlikely scenario. His time as a detective had taught him a lot about the dark side of the human psyche and that when it came to missing teenage girls to always assume the worst. Something told him that fifteen-year-old Mary Freeman never celebrated her sixteenth birthday.
41
Fight
The Reporter
Matt Revell sat on the edge of the glass conference table and stared up at one of the three televisions suspended from the ceiling in the center of the newsroom.
A bright-red breaking news banner slid along the bottom of the screen followed by text revealing that a murder investigation had been launched after the body of a lawyer had been found on the floor of his office in central London.
The newsreader, a brunette in her late thirties, announced that Drew Bentley had been working late at the employment law firm Stone and Maddox when an intruder broke into the building and choked him to death.
Revell was intrigued. He’d received the press release from the New Scotland Yard press office about an hour ago and had realized straightaway that the victim was Gem Golding’s boyfriend. So far, not one news outlet had mentioned the connection. Maybe the police weren’t linking the two crimes.
Even if that was the case, Revell knew another big story had fallen into his lap, and he needed to get going on it before someone beat him to it. His news editor had accused him of missing the scoop of the year by letting Golding’s carjacker get away before the police arrived. I’m a writer, not a fighter, he’d told her. You’d have to be pretty stupid to take on that psycho. Avenging Angel’s Boyfriend Murdered. It was one of those headlines that wrote itself. That should get him back in Duffield’s good books. All he needed now was a few good quotes from the grieving girlfriend.
* * *
Revell pressed the doorbell and waited, the fluttering in his stomach excitement, not nerves. He’d doorstepped a lot of grieving relatives over the years and knew that many people found talking about a recently lost loved one therapeutic.
The door opened, and he found himself looking down at a stocky woman with dark wavy hair wearing a gray skirt and dark-green jacket. He should have guessed the police would have arranged for a family liaison officer to babysit.
“Good evening,” he said. “I was wondering if I could have a word with Gem.”
The woman pursed her full lips. “And you are?”
“My name is Matt. I work for the Daily News.”
“Miss Golding is not feeling well enough to speak to anybody at the moment, especially not the press.”
Matt smiled. Being polite but firm was always the best tactic in situations like this. “I understand, but we do know each other. I’d appreciate it if you would let her know that I’m here and let her make up her own mind.”
The police officer glared at him and took a step back to give herself room to shut the door. Over her shoulder, Revell spotted Gem Golding standing at the far end of the hall, wrapped in a fluffy blue dressing gown.
“It’s all right, Carol,” she said. “You can let him in.”
Before the police officer had a chance to argue, Revell ducked past her and followed Gem into the living room. She sat on one of the two large leather armchairs, and he took a seat on the sofa. He took his phone out of his pocket, switched on the recording app, and showed Gem the screen before placing it on the seat beside him. She nodded to confirm she knew their chat would be recorded.
“I’m so sorry about your boyfriend,” Revell said. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw the press release.”
Gem didn’t answer. She crossed her arms and hugged herself. She wore no makeup, her cheeks were pink and blotchy, her eyes puffy and bloodshot. Under the dressing gown, she wore blue jeans and a black sweater.
“Have the police any idea why anyone would want to murder Drew?” Revell asked.
Gem rubbed the tops of her arms with her hands and shivered. “I’m cold. It’s very chilly in here. Are you cold?”
Revell shook his head. It was a mild spring evening, and the central heating system seemed to be throwing out an awful lot of heat.
“I wish I’d never done that interview about the carjacking with you,” Gem said. “That was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I’m not saying that I lied about what happened.
I told the truth, and I did so to try to help other women who find themselves in the same awful situation, to get them to think about how they should or would react. To be prepared, at least. There is no right or wrong way to respond, is there? I suppose if you survive, then you’ve made the right choice, but if I had kept quiet, then maybe things would have turned out differently.”
Revell could hear the family liaison officer talking in hushed tones on her cell phone. He suspected that at least a couple of uniformed officers were on their way and decided to push harder than he usually would when interviewing a grieving woman.
“Are you saying that our story about how you fought off an attacker is connected to the murder? Do the police think the same man killed your boyfriend?”
Gem shook her head. “They’re not saying it officially, but it’s obvious, isn’t it? Since the article was published in the Daily News, I’ve been getting threatening phone calls, I’ve been followed in the street, and now Drew is dead.”
Elation pulsed through Revell, and he shifted forward in his seat. He had his story and didn’t want to jeopardize it, but he needed to give Gem the chance to think carefully about what she was doing.
“If you think speaking out about the carjacking provoked your attacker to commit murder, then is it sensible to do another interview? You’re grieving, and I don’t want you to do or say anything you’ll regret.”
Gem took a deep breath, raised her chin, and looked directly at Revell. “There’s no cure for grief, but I’m hoping to sidetrack it, at least for a while. The strongest emotion I’m feeling right now is anger. I want Drew’s killer to pay for what he’s done. I’ve looked him in the eye. I know he’s evil, and I know deep down, under all that arrogance, he’s weak.”
Whether she was right or not about the killer being the man who’d attacked her, she obviously believed it, and Revell was entitled to report that. The police wouldn’t appreciate him jumping the gun, but that had never stopped him before.
The family liaison officer ended her telephone call and stood in the doorway glaring across the room at him. Making sure she couldn’t see what he was doing, he slipped his phone back into his jacket pocket. It was time to change tack, make his excuses, and leave.
“Like I said before, Gem, I’m so sorry about what’s happened. Let’s hope the killer is caught soon. Have you got any family members nearby who can help you through this?”
Gem blinked back tears and swallowed hard. “It’s just my mum and me. She lives in Wales, but I’m hoping she’s coming to stay with me soon.”
Revell stood up. “That’s good,” he said. “It always helps to have family around you at a time like this. Thank you for talking to me, and take care.”
He headed for the door where the family liaison officer stood blocking his way. At the last second, she stepped aside to let him pass. He hurried down the hall, opened the door, and stepped out as a marked police patrol car pulled up outside the house. Revell smiled and waved at the two police constables as he strode away.
The Detective
Day sat at a corner table in the station canteen and stared at the beige folder on the table. He’d sent the video footage of the attack on Shields and the killing of Drew Bentley to a psychologist he’d worked with on the murder squad and asked her to provide a full offender profile as well as give her thoughts on what Norton was using the coin for.
As he’d expected, Shields had shown amazing resilience since her return to work. It helped that the details of the attack had not yet been released to the press, but once Norton was caught, she would have to give evidence at his trial.
Normally, Shields would be sent a copy of the profile at the same time as he received his, but he’d asked for a delay so he could check it out first. He flipped the folder open and started to read:
Offender Profile Report by Criminal Psychologist Danni York
After studying the videos of the offender in action, I have come to the conclusion that he can be categorized as a full-blown psychopath. For that reason, I find it surprising that he doesn’t appear on any of the national databases of criminal offenders. It is unlikely that he hasn’t been involved in criminal activity from his early teens onward, so it would be logical to assume that he is particularly adept at avoiding being caught.
Psychopaths typically display fearlessness, lack of empathy, narcissism, an inability to cope with rejection or humiliation, and an obsession with power and control. This offender appears to display all these traits. He certainly would have been humiliated by the media coverage of the carjacking, and this could have acted as a trigger for the subsequent sudden escalation of violence.
The way he toyed with the female detective and the murder victim Bentley, seemingly giving them the opportunity to fight back or to submit, demonstrates the offender’s desire to impose his will and control those around him. Studies have shown that psychopaths’ brains release unusually large quantities of dopamine, a reward or pleasure chemical, when they commit extreme acts.
It is my opinion that he uses the coin to make himself the master of the “game.” Although it appears that the coin flip decides the fate of the victims, it is more complex than that. For example, if the coin lands on heads and heads means resist, then the victim must choose to fight back to be allowed to survive. If it lands on tails, then the victims must submit to live. I think Norton derives immense satisfaction from controlling the game, especially as he has more influence than you might think. He’s the one who has to offer the victim the opportunity to fight back or not. He can choose how long he turns his back for, how quickly he retrieves the knife after dropping it. So the outcome is not truly down to the flip of a coin.
The fight or submit rules make it a win-win situation for the offender. He controls the game. If the victim chooses the predetermined “right” course of action, then he gets to let them live. That can make someone like him feel just as powerful as when he gets to take a life because the victim made the “wrong” decision.
It is possible that the game was devised after the carjacking attempt and may have been inspired by the media coverage, but it could be more deep-rooted.
What is in no doubt is that the offender is totally fixated on the intended carjacking victim, Gem Golding. Detective Shields was abducted after leaving Golding’s home, and, of course, the murdered man was Golding’s boyfriend.
As for the offender’s likely background, I would hazard a guess that he had a troubled upbringing. By that I don’t mean to suggest that this would have caused his psychopathy. I mean that he would have been a troubled child anyway. Psychopathy is now thought to owe more to genetics and brain abnormality than environment, but childhood trauma of some kind can often switch it on.
I am convinced that the offender’s ultimate target will be Golding, the woman who refused to bow to his will and then chose to publicly humiliate him by giving an interview to a newspaper. In my opinion, it’s simply a question of time.
Note on how victims react to the trauma of violence.
Victims of crime react in one of three ways. Fight, flight, or freeze. All are instinctive, and the freeze response is the most primitive. Nobody should feel shame or be blamed for an instinctive response they have no control over.
Day closed the folder. Norton’s deadly coin “game” made him feel sick to his stomach. He’d arrange for Shields to be sent a copy of the profile straightaway. He knew her well enough now to trust her to handle it.
He wondered whether her training and experience on the force had given her the ability to read the situation and reach the conclusion that if she did as she was ordered, if she didn’t take any risks, she’d walk away and have the satisfaction of locking the bastard up another day. Or had she frozen in fear, while the killer’s twisted brain bathed in pleasure chemicals?
42
Surrender
Gem the Victim
Gem Golding
sat sideways on her chair, her arms folded and her legs crossed. Despite yesterday afternoon’s menacing telephone call, she felt stronger than she had for a while. She was damaged but nowhere near broken.
Detective Inspector Day walked into the interview room accompanied by a petite, dark-haired woman wearing black trousers and a three-quarter-length burgundy coat. They both sat opposite Gem and placed the files they were carrying on the table.
“This is Danni York,” said Day. “She’s a criminal psychologist who is experienced at offender profiling. She’s had a look at your statement about the telephone conversation you had with the suspect, and I thought you might like to hear her conclusions.”
Gem nodded at York. The psychologist offered her a brief smile as she opened the folder in front of her and smoothed it down on the table. Gem wasn’t sure she’d be that interested in a psychological profile. The man was a cold-hearted killer. What else needed to be said? She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. York took that as a cue to speak.
“The suspect clearly has psychopathic traits, but as far as his interest in you is concerned, he is showing all the signs of delusional, obsessive, and distorted thinking. Since the carjacking, he has undoubtedly developed a twisted fascination with you. He wants to possess you, be with you, and almost certainly believes that you feel the same way.”
Gem’s face flushed. “That’s absurd. This is nonsense.”
York raised a calming hand. “Don’t misunderstand me,” she said. “I’m not suggesting any of this is true on your part. I’m explaining what the suspect is thinking, how his mind is distorting the truth. This is important because it might help us, DI Day and myself, to anticipate what the suspect might do next.”
York turned to Day, and he nodded his agreement. “Offender profiles can turn out to be extremely useful in a case like this,” he said. “Anything that might help us catch this man and then make sure he is held to justice for his crimes has got to be a good thing.”