by Sally Rigby
‘Here you are.’ Stephen placed their coffees on the table.
‘Thanks, I could do with this.’ She wrapped her hands around the mug and inhaled the rich coffee aroma.
‘I’ve got something to ask you,’ Stephen said hesitatingly. ‘Hear me out before you say no.’
‘Why do you automatically assume I’ll say no?’
Did she always say no to his ideas? She didn’t think so. Okay, so she’d been refusing to go out recently during the week because of all the work she had on. But they did go for a meal at the weekend and had a good time.
‘I’m just saying, that’s all.’ The narrowing of his eyes was a clear indication he was troubled about something.
‘Tell me what it is,’ she said, determined to say yes, whatever it was. Well, within reason.
‘My folks were going to their cottage in the Lake District this weekend, but now they can’t. They asked if we’d like to go instead, and I said yes.’
Her body tensed. If there was one thing she hated, it was people making plans for her. It was just plain rude.
‘Without asking me first?’ She tried to keep her voice light but didn’t succeed.
‘I had to make a decision straight away, or they’d have offered it to someone else. We can leave after work on Friday and come back first thing Monday morning. If we leave early enough, we’ll be back in time for your nine o’clock start. It’s a beautiful cottage. I’ve been wanting to take you there for ages. Open fire. Views over the lake. It’ll be just what you need. You’ve been looking peaky recently because of all the work you’ve been doing,’ he cajoled.
Under any other circumstances, she’d have loved a few days in the Lake District. It was one of her favourite places. But how could she justify the time away? Not counting her research and marking, there was the investigation to think about. What if the killer decided to strike again while she was away relaxing? She’d be no good to Whitney if she wasn’t available when needed.
As for her looking peaky, she didn’t agree. Yes, she was a little tired, but no more than usual for the first term in an academic year. According to him, it sounded like she had one foot in the grave and had let herself go.
‘I feel fine, so I’m not sure why you think I need a break. That said, I think it’s lovely of your parents to offer us the cottage,’ she said, working herself up to turning him down.
‘So, we can go?’ he asked as a broad smile marched across his face.
Crap. She hadn’t meant to lead him on.
‘I’d love to, but not this weekend. Sorry.’ She leaned over to put her hand over his, but he pulled it away.
‘Why not? Surely you’re on top of your work. You must be, you’re at it so often.’
She resented the tone in his voice, but now wasn’t the time to discuss it.
‘It’s the case. We need to catch the murderer before he strikes again.’
‘The case,’ Stephen scoffed. ‘You’re kidding yourself if you think your presence is going to make that much difference. I’m sure they’re only letting you be part of the investigation because you pestered them so much. It’s not like you’ve actually contributed anything. The killer’s still out there.’
She bristled. Where did he get off insulting her like that?
‘That’s really uncalled for. And for your information, I’ve provided the police with a good working profile. We will find him.’
‘It’s not we. You’re an academic, not a police officer.’ He rolled his eyes upward and gave a callous laugh.
‘Fuck you, Stephen Grant. And your weekend in the Lakes. You can go by yourself, because I’m not going.’
‘Your choice,’ he replied, glowering at her.
‘Yes, it is.’
Their eyes locked in anger, then suddenly Stephen’s softened.
He rested his hand on top of hers. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. It was out of order. It’s just these past weeks I’ve been feeling neglected. It seems like you have time for everyone else except me.’
His words took the wind out of her sails, and guilt inched its way into her head. She knew she had a tendency to be single-minded, and in the past it hadn’t mattered. Looking at it from his perspective, maybe she wasn’t being fair. They were in a relationship, and that meant give and take on both sides.
‘I’m sorry, too. I just don’t want to let Whitney down. I couldn’t bear it if another student lost her life because I hadn’t been there to help.’
‘It’s not all down to you. I’m sure your DCI will understand if you go away for a couple of days.’
She was determined she wouldn’t be going, but she’d wait until later to tell him. Let him think she was going to see what she could work out. If that made her a bad partner, then so be it. Once the case was solved, she’d make more of an effort. It annoyed her Stephen had become so needy. Nothing like her parents, who were both single-minded in the pursuit of their careers. They understood each other. They recognised the passion which accompanied being a success in their chosen fields. Why couldn’t Stephen be more like that? Actually, she knew the answer. Because he wasn’t passionate about what he did. In fact, what was he passionate about? Nothing, as far as she could see. Apart from having a good time and hanging out with colleagues in the pub or the staff room.
It was times like these when she questioned why she’d got together with him in the first place.
‘I don’t want to agree just yet. Let me see what I can do. I promise I’ll let you know by the end of the day, if that’s okay with you?’ There, she couldn’t be more accommodating.
‘I’ll take that as a yes then.’ He beamed at her.
‘I’ll confirm later. But—’
She was interrupted by her phone ringing. She picked it up from the table, and Whitney’s name was on the screen. ‘Sorry, I’ve got to take this. Hello, George speaking.’
‘It’s Whitney. We’ve got another body. When can you get to the station?’
Hell. She knew it had been likely, but hearing it had actually happened sent shivers down her spine. She checked her watch, her heart thumping against her chest. ‘I’ve got a class now which I can’t get out of. I can make it in a couple of hours.’
Whitney’s frustrated sigh was audible. ‘Okay. Just get here as soon as possible.’
She ended the call and looked over at Stephen, who was staring at her, an indefinable expression on his face. ‘Let me guess. Your friendly neighbourhood police officer has requested your presence. I wish I had some of what she does; then maybe you’ll be at my beck and call.’
‘There’s been another murder. I don’t have the details, but it’s likely to be a student from this university. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’
‘That’s below the belt. Of course I’m concerned about the spate of murders. It’s just I don’t share your view of your indispensability to the case. But clearly, I’m fighting a losing battle. Do what you want.’
‘I will. Thank you for being so understanding.’ She could’ve kicked herself. She didn’t do sarcasm, as a rule.
‘My pleasure,’ he retorted.
‘I’m going. I’ll let you know later about the weekend.’
‘Don’t pretend you’re going to consider it. We both know that’s not the case. I’m going whether you come or not. It will probably do us good to have some time apart.’
She picked up her bag from the back of her chair and marched off.
Chapter Twenty-Two
As George pushed open the door to the incident room, the cacophony of sound hit her. The place was buzzing and straight away she got caught up in the intensity. Whitney was over to one side, talking to Ellie.
Whitney glanced up and waved for her to come over.
‘Hi,’ Whitney said. ‘Glad you could finally make it.’
She prickled, then reminded herself sarcasm seemed to be Whitney’s go to response, especially when the pressure was on.
‘I came as soon as I could. Tell me about the late
st victim.’
‘Before we discuss that, I want to speak to you in private. We’ll go to my office.’ Whitney pointed to the back of the room, where there was an open door.
‘Sure.’ She wondered what couldn’t be said in front of other members of the team. Unless it was something personal. But how likely was that?
‘I want an honest answer from you,’ Whitney said once they were alone.
Whitney could almost be intimidating if she wasn’t so much shorter than George.
‘Of course.’
‘Have you mentioned to anyone about the mobile phones being left in the victims’ laps?’
She hadn’t discussed the case with anyone outside of the team. She’d automatically assumed she was confined by a confidentiality agreement. ‘No. Other than when we’ve discussed it here with the team.’
‘Are you sure?’ Whitney persisted.
The hackles rose on the back of her neck. She didn’t lie.
‘Yes. Why?’ She was unable to hide her annoyance.
‘At the media conference one of the reporters asked about it. We hadn’t released the information.’
‘And you think it’s me?’
‘You’re just one of the people we’re asking. Unfortunately, too many people know.’
So, she was accusing her because she wasn’t actually part of the team. Now she got it.
‘You think because I’m the outsider, it’s more likely to be me than anyone else?’
‘Whoa. What’s got into you? I’m just asking a question.’ Whitney shook her head.
‘Sorry. It’s been a difficult day. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I haven’t discussed the case with anyone. Especially not the phone, as you’d already mentioned keeping quiet about it.’
‘Who the fuck was it then?’ Whitney mused. ‘I doubt it’s a member of the team. I’m more inclined to believe uniform had something to do with it. Some of them have no idea about keeping their mouths shut.’
‘Did they know we were withholding the information?’
‘Yes,’ Whitney replied. ‘Anyway, I’ll have to deal with it another time. We need to talk about the latest murder.’
‘I hate to say this, but having a third body does give us more to work with.’
They walked back into the incident room, stopping next to the board.
‘Latest victim. Poppy Brooks. Second year English student. Aged twenty. Found at nine-thirty this morning by Rushton Lake.’
She tensed as Whitney pointed to the photo of a young pretty girl with long dark hair. Nausea washed over her. They had to get the bastard who did this.
‘By water again. I think we can safely confirm water is important to the killer.’
‘Exactly what I thought. Doug, print me off a map of the university grounds and surrounding area,’ Whitney called over to the DC who was sitting at his desk.
A few moments later, he brought the map over. Whitney put it up on the board and took hold of the pen, marking the locations where the three bodies had been found.
George glanced again at the photo of Poppy Brooks. She didn’t recognise her. Then again, that wasn’t surprising, seeing as there were over twenty thousand students studying at the uni.
‘I take it she was left in the same pose?’ she asked.
‘Yes. Phone in the lap and photo of her as the wallpaper.’
‘May I see the photo?’
‘Ellie’s been looking at the contact list. Ellie, here a minute,’ Whitney shouted over the chatter.
‘Guv,’ Ellie said once she’d walked over.
‘Do we have a copy of the wallpaper photo on Poppy’s phone? I want to show George.’
‘Yes, it’s on my computer. Over here, Dr Cavendish.’
She followed Ellie to her desk and examined the photo on the screen. It was identical to the others. All that could be seen was the victim, the headboard, and her splayed legs. Nothing to give them any indication of where they were. It was impossible to see exactly what the ankles were tied to.
‘Thanks. What about the contact list? Have you come up with any matches on all three yet?’ she asked.
‘I’m going through it now. The latest victim has over two hundred names in there.’
‘Okay.’
George walked back to the board and stood next to Whitney.
She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘With three victims we can now establish a pattern of behaviour and make inferences.’
‘The patterns being the rape and strangulation, where the bodies are left, and they’re all students?’ Whitney said.
‘It’s more than that. These crimes are meticulously planned. Implying our murderer is intelligent and has been educated. Also, his violence is controlled. The forensic evidence indicates the rapes aren’t frenzied. He likely sees the victims as representing women in his past who he has something against. I suspect he has violent tendencies in his normal life.’
‘That’s all good, but how can we use it in our investigation?’
‘By continually building on what we have. We need to look at the victims themselves. Physically, there are no similarities. None of them lived in the same location, and they weren’t all in university accommodation.’ She paused to think. ‘What about college?’ It was a longshot, and not something she’d considered before because the students weren’t first years and didn’t live in halls.
She hurried over to Matt, who was by one of the computers. ‘Do you have access to the university records on each of the victims?’
‘Yes. The administration department emailed me their files,’ Matt replied.
‘Check out what college all the girls were in.’
‘College?’ He frowned.
‘The university is divided into eight separate colleges, which aren’t subject related. They have their own halls of residence and their own pastoral care.’
‘Godwin,’ he said after a minute. ‘They’re all in Godwin.’
Finally. They had something.
She headed back to Whitney. ‘We have a link. It’s a tad on the tenuous side, but it’s the first one we’ve found, other than the party, which we can’t count, as we don’t know yet whether the latest victim had gone to it. They are all in Godwin College.’
‘Fantastic. Does it have its own separate building at the university?’ Whitney asked, some of the tension around her eyes easing.
‘No. The colleges have their own halls of residence for first years. But in later years, students tend to mix. The administration staff for all the colleges are in one building. An—’
‘Guv,’ Ellie called. ‘I’ve found him.’
Whitney, George, and Matt rushed over to Ellie’s desk. ‘Who is it?’ Whitney asked.
‘Kevin Vaughan. He’s in the contacts of all three girls. It’s a landline number.’
‘Haven’t you already spoken to him regarding alibis for the first two murders?’ Whitney asked.
Ellie opened a file on her computer and scrolled down.
‘According to my notes, he was shopping at the time of the first murder and alone in bed at the time of the other. There was nothing to follow up on.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Whitney asked. ‘We should have brought him in for further questioning.’
‘I used my judgement. I’m sorry.’ Ellie blushed as she bit down on her bottom lip.
‘Don’t worry. We all make mistakes,’ Whitney said, resting her hand on the young detective’s shoulder. ‘The main thing is we’ve identified him now.’
Ellie visibly relaxed. Impressive leadership skills from Whitney. She could’ve so easily hauled Ellie over the coals.
‘A university extension,’ George said. ‘Go into the university website and see where he works.’
Ellie keyed in his name. She turned to them, her eyes bright. ‘He’s a Junior Dean in Godwin College.’
Whitney and George exchanged glances.
‘We’ve got the bastard,’ Whitney said. ‘George, you come with me. We’re going
to bring him in.’
‘Me?’ she asked, puzzled why she wasn’t going to take Matt.
‘We don’t want to alert him. You can show me the way without us having to involve anyone else at the university. The fewer people who know the better.’
That made sense. ‘We’ll go in my car, then we can park close to the administration building.’
‘Attention, everyone,’ Whitney shouted across the noise. ‘We’ve got a lead. I’m going with Dr Cavendish to pick him up for questioning.’
A cheer went up, and a chorus of ‘well done’ echoed around the room.
‘His name’s Kevin Vaughan, and he works at the university. I want a background check on him. Where he lives. His family. His friends. His social media presence. Whether he holds a firearm licence. You know the drill. Also, any links to our victims. Check out CCTV from the university, the centre of town, and anywhere close to where he lives.’ Whitney turned to George. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
The drive to the university didn’t take long, and after feeding the parking meter, she was soon parked in her usual spot. ‘The building’s through there,’ she said, pointing at the Victorian archway to the left of them.
‘I don’t want to alarm him,’ Whitney said. ‘We want him to come with us voluntarily. We’ll use the fact the girls are all from his college and we need his help.’
‘Good tactic. It’s a psychopathic trait of many killers—they want to get close to the investigation and offer to help. They get off on it.’
They got out of the car and walked together under the archway and into the door leading to the administration building. She approached the board beside the entrance door, which listed rooms and occupants.
‘Second floor, room six,’ she called over her shoulder to Whitney. ‘This way. It’s quicker than waiting for the lift.’