Cavendish & Walker Box Set

by Sally Rigby

‘You mean you rocked it?’ Whitney smiled like she meant it, and her eyes twinkled.

  ‘It went well.’

  ‘I’m glad you could make it. I thought you might have to prepare for the interview tomorrow.’

  ‘I needed a change of scenery. Tell me what’s happened since you left the message.’

  ‘We talked to Tina Church about being in the area, and she admitted to an illicit meeting with the manager of the supermarket she works at.’

  ‘And was that confirmed?’

  ‘Yes. Which means we have no suspect.’

  ‘Have you checked into Diana Atkins?’

  ‘Yes, and her alibi’s sound. She was home alone some of the time, but she’d be pushing it to get to Leicester and back in such a short space of time. Plus, there’s no record of her car on the CCTV.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘I must admit, it did cross my mind she could be responsible. Even though she was shocked and clearly disturbed, there was still an element of calm about her. Then again, she is like you in many respects.’

  What the hell did she mean by that? George couldn’t see any similarity between her and Diana Atkins.

  ‘Care to elaborate?’ George said in a cool voice.

  ‘You know what I mean. She’s posh, and into horses.’

  ‘So, she’s the same as me because she’s posh and likes horses. Seriously, Whitney, I thought you knew better. I’d hardly say those attributes meant we were alike. Does she smoke, like I do? Does she like fast cars? I don’t suppose you asked her that.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s just she has that British stiff upper lip thing going on. Like you. And I didn’t know if it was the reason for her reaction to everything. Because she was taught to keep her emotions in check.’

  ‘You could be right,’ George relented. She actually did know what Whitney meant, but she didn’t want to be put into the same box. ‘And what about the girl coming in to be interviewed?’

  ‘She’s fourteen and should be here soon. I’d like you to watch from outside and give me advice on the questioning. I’ll wear an earpiece. I don’t think it’s a good idea for us all to be in there. For a start, it’s intimidating, and she’s only here helping us with our enquiries. Plus, I want to know what’s going on in terms of her facial expressions and her word choice, et cetera.’

  ‘Not to mention it would be pointless me being in there, as you’re the one doing all the talking.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Whitney grinned.

  George looked at the photos of the three girls. ‘What about her?’ she asked, pointing to the photo of a young girl with shoulder-length dark curly hair. ‘Cleo.’ She read the name printed below the photograph.

  ‘We can’t trace her. There were some conversations on the app, but no mention of any meetings. We checked the other messaging app on his phone, but no trace of a conversation there. He could’ve deleted it though.’

  The phone on the desk rang, and Whitney picked it up. ‘Walker.’ She paused. ‘Show them into the interview room, and we’ll be there shortly.’ She replaced the phone. ‘Matt, you and I will interview Amy Bond, and George will be outside.’

  After stopping at Whitney’s office to pick up an earpiece and mic, they made their way there.

  George stood behind the one-way mirror. Amy was petite and had straight blonde hair which hung just below her shoulders. She looked younger than fourteen. Her face was make-up free. Her mother, in contrast, was highly made-up, and wore a flowery dress with a navy cardigan over the top. Amy was fidgeting in her chair, looking uncomfortable, and when Whitney and Matt walked in, she blushed a deep shade of red. Whitney sat opposite the girl, and Matt sat opposite her mother.

  ‘Thank you for coming in to see us,’ Whitney said.

  ‘What’s this all about?’ Mrs Bond asked.

  ‘We need to ask Amy some questions about an online app she uses.’

  ‘Okay,’ Mrs Bond said.

  ‘Amy, we understand you’ve been on SnapMate. Is that correct?’

  The young girl looked at her mother and bit her bottom lip. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Amy?’ her mother said, frowning. ‘What’s SnapMate?’

  ‘It’s somewhere to meet other kids. Everyone goes on there, Mum. It’s not only me. It’s a bit of fun.’

  George shook her head. These youngsters all thought it was a bit of fun. They seemed totally oblivious to the danger they were putting themselves in. Something had to be done to change it.

  ‘And on the site did you meet a boy named Billy?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you talk to him often?’ Whitney leaned in slightly.

  ‘Yes, we’re good friends,’ Amy said.

  ‘Did he ask to meet you?’

  She nodded. ‘We wanted to meet, but he’s away at college. We’re going to see each other in the holidays.’

  ‘College?’ Mrs Bond said. ‘You’re fourteen years old. You can’t see someone who’s at college.’

  ‘He’s eighteen, Mum. Not much older than me,’ Amy said.

  ‘Well, I think it’s too old for you. And when—’

  ‘Mrs Bond, may we continue?’ Whitney interrupted.

  Amy’s mother turned to face her daughter. ‘We’ll discuss this when we get home. Yes, you may continue.’

  ‘Tread carefully, Whitney. Especially when talking about any photographs,’ George said.

  ‘I’d like to be a bit more specific about how friendly you were with Billy. How often did you message each other?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘Every day. Although I haven’t heard from him since Thursday.’ She lowered her head. ‘Is he okay?’ she asked, looking out from under her eyelashes.

  ‘How long have you known him?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘Eight weeks.’

  ‘You must have got to know each other quite well in that time?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What sort of things did you talk about?’

  ‘He tells me things to do with college, and I tell him things about school.’

  ‘Did you tell him any secrets? Anything you haven’t told other people?’ Whitney probed.

  Amy rocked in her seat. ‘I told him when one of the girls in my class was bullying me.’

  ‘You didn’t mention this to me,’ Mrs Bond said.

  ‘Because you’d go into school, like you did last time, and make things worse. Billy understood.’

  ‘Typical grooming behaviour,’ George muttered.

  ‘Did you exchange photos?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘Her body language suggests she’s uncomfortable with your question. Possibly because of the nature of the photos. Don’t be surprised if she doesn’t admit to it with her mother present,’ George said.

  ‘Y-yes.’

  ‘Are they on your phone?’ Whitney asked.

  Amy nodded.

  ‘May I see?’

  Amy looked at her mum and went bright red again. ‘I… I…’

  ‘Show the photos to DCI Walker,’ Mrs Bond said.

  Amy pulled out her phone from her pocket and showed a photo to Whitney.

  George could see it was one of a young man leaning against a tree.

  ‘Is this the only one?’ Whitney asked. ‘Did he ask you to send any intimate photos of yourself?’

  ‘No.’ Amy shook her head.

  ‘She’s not telling the truth. But don’t push it,’ George said.

  ‘Amy, what were you doing between six and ten last Thursday evening?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘I was at school until six for choir rehearsal, and then I caught the bus home with my friend Holly, who lives two doors down from us. I don’t go out anywhere during the week because Mum doesn’t let me.’

  ‘What’s this all about?’ Mrs Bond asked.

  ‘The person Amy’s been in contact with is actually a forty-one-year-old man who preys on young girls on these sorts of sites.’

  ‘And have you arrested this disgusting pervert?’ Mrs Bond as
ked.

  ‘Unfortunately not. He’s dead.’

  Chapter Twelve

  When you first heard about Russell Atkins’ death, you no doubt wondered what sick person could have done it. Nobody in their right frame of mind would remove a man’s genitals and force him to eat them.

  And then you heard about him and his disgusting predilections for young girls and how he groomed them to satisfy his perverted needs.

  You became conflicted. Of course you did. That disgusting, piece of shit of a man, stole the rest of those young girls’ lives.

  And I should know.

  Not because he’d done it to me. But it’s been done to me in the past.

  It’s with me every single day.

  Why didn’t I realise what he was doing?

  Why did I let him get away with it?

  Because I was only ten when it started, and he threatened to ruin my parents’ lives forever if I didn’t comply. For three years. Three long years, I dreaded every time my parents gave a party and people came to the house. I tried to go out if I knew he’d be there.

  But he’d find me. Wherever I was, he’d find me.

  He was so good at what he did. Convincing me to acquiesce to his disgusting needs. I knew no one would believe me, even if I did tell. Which, of course, I didn’t, because my parents would’ve hated me for what I’d done. Or so I believed. And the worst thing was, he acted like what we were doing was normal. I believed him. Why wouldn’t I? I had no other experience.

  I hated it. It hurt and made me cry. I even tried to find out, in a roundabout way, if my other friends had to do what I did. But it was hard to actually ask them without letting on what had happened to me. And I’d been sworn to secrecy. He told me he’d know the moment I mentioned our little secret to anyone. I believed him.

  Then one day he had a stroke and ended up in a wheelchair. My parents were devastated.

  I laughed and laughed and laughed. I was free.

  Except I wasn’t free, because the memories overwhelmed me. Never loosening their grip.

  So, back to Mr Russell Atkins. Why did I mutilate him?

  Because he thought with his dick, so what better punishment? And yes, he was alive when I did it.

  You should’ve seen his face when the knife came out. I would’ve taken a photo, but I didn’t need to. His expression is etched on my mind.

  What else do you want to know? The socks? The folded clothes beside his body? Why I left the body where I did?

  Let’s take them one at a time.

  The socks are directly related to me. I hate feet. Can’t bear to look at them. Why? Of course there’s a reason. It’s not just because they’re ugly. Remember what I told you earlier, about the man who destroyed my life? He had a fetish for feet. He’d make me suck his big toe. He got off on it.

  I can’t talk about it anymore.

  What about the folded clothes? Nothing of interest there. It was a case of, what else could I do with them? I didn’t want them. They were evidence, and I didn’t want to risk anything being traced back to me. So I did what normal people would. Folded the clothes and placed them beside him.

  Next. Location. Really, it’s not of any consequence, although I suspect someone will think it is and look for a clue about me. They can look, but they won’t find anything useful.

  Now we’ve gone through all that, I’m guessing your question is, why Russell Atkins? I made it my business to find out about him. The same as I made it my business to find out about other men grooming young girls for sex.

  My aim in life is to eradicate scum like that from the face of the earth.

  Russell Atkins might be my first, but I can assure you he won’t be my last.

  Between you and me, I’m expecting the second body to be found shortly. I hadn’t planned on it happening so soon, but when the opportunity presented itself, I took it, because I might not have had another chance.

  Don’t pretend to be shocked and disgusted by my behaviour.

  I know you respect and admire me for taking a stand against these monsters.

  If everyone did the same, we’d have a much better world in which to live.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Whitney glanced up as George came into the incident room.

  ‘What are you doing here? I thought you had your interview?’

  ‘I’ve already had it. It finished a few minutes after twelve, so I thought I’d come to see what was happening. I’ve got nothing on until a meeting at three this afternoon.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘How did it go?’

  ‘As well as can be expected.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Whitney shook her head. ‘Never mind. Extracting information from you can be like getting blood out of a stone, sometimes.’

  ‘There’s nothing to say. I won’t know anything until a decision’s been made. How’s the investigation going?’

  ‘Not well. We’ve alibied everyone. The house-to-house hasn’t brought up anything, and there have been very few leads coming through on the phone lines. The porter at the hotel didn’t have anything useful to add, and the hair tie we found had nothing incriminating on it. At the moment, we’re backtracking on all the CCTV. Checking who’s been released from prison recently, whether there’s anyone with a history of murders like this. It’s a tricky one.’

  ‘What about his workplace? Any joy from there?’

  ‘No. From what we’ve gathered, he was popular. There were no stories of him getting together with any members of staff. He was an ideal employee. Except we know he wasn’t.’

  ‘If it was young girls he wanted, I’m not surprised he left the women at work alone. He’s not stupid. He put up a good front. But you’ll find something,’ George said.

  ‘Guv,’ Matt called from across the office. ‘There’s been another murder. Same MO.’ He grimaced.

  ‘Crap. That’s all we need. Where?’ Nausea coursed through her body in anticipation of the sight awaiting them.

  ‘The old disused railway station at the back of Cross Street.’

  ‘Let’s go. Are you coming, George?’ she asked.

  She frowned. ‘I can’t. The meeting. Stay in touch.’

  Whitney and Matt took one of the pool cars and drove to the site where the body had been found. They parked up at the same time as Claire Dexter.

  She confirmed with the attending officer that all the correct procedures were in place, then they all signed the log and walked together towards the body. Matt hung back a bit.

  ‘What’s the matter, Matt? Are you nervous about what you’re going to see?’ Claire joked.

  ‘Leave the poor guy alone,’ Whitney said. ‘After the last one, you know he has a fragile stomach.’

  They continued along the old track until they came to the body. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. A slightly overweight man in his thirties, with receding mid-brown hair, was laid out on the ground. Naked, minus his genitals, and wearing socks. There was hardly any blood. It was the Russell Atkins scene all over again.

  Claire pulled on her overalls and gloves, took out her camera, and started work.

  Whitney walked back to Matt, who was several yards away. ‘No need for you to go any further. Let’s search the area to see if there’s anything. Have the crime scenes team been called?’

  ‘Yes, they’re on the way.’ He gave her a grateful nod.

  ‘Look over there. Some tyre tracks on the grass.’ Whitney pointed a few yards in front of them. ‘How can a car get down here?’ She scanned their surroundings.

  ‘It’s possible to drive beside the railway track. There’s an entrance further along,’ Matt said.

  ‘Let’s take a look.’

  They walked along the track. It was wide enough for a car, but mostly gravel, so there weren’t any tyre tracks to suggest a car had been that way. After about half a mile, they came to the gap. There was plenty of room for a car to come off the road and drive towards the place where the b
ody had been left. There was also a patch of grass with tracks.

  ‘Right, we need to cordon off all the way up to this entrance. Get it done straight away. Make sure forensics come here to check out these tracks. Now we need to identify the body.’

  They headed back to the attending officer. Matt stayed with him, and she walked over to speak to Claire.

  ‘Same as last time?’ she asked.

  ‘It looks like it,’ Claire said.

  ‘Anything on the body to identify him?’

  ‘I’ve photographed the clothes if you want to go through them.’

  Whitney pulled on some disposable gloves and went around the body to the pile of clothes. In the pocket of his trousers she found a set of keys, a phone, and a wallet, which was empty apart from a ten-pound note and a driving licence in the name of Kelvin M Keane.

  ‘Interesting the killer left identification with the body, unlike with Russell Atkins. What do you make of that?’ she asked.

  ‘Not my area of expertise. Speak to George if you want some sort of analysis,’ Claire replied tersely.

  Whitney smiled to herself. One day she’d learn to get it right with Claire. Though where was the fun in that? In the meantime, she’d leave the pathologist to get on with what she did best.

  ‘Good idea. I’ll speak to you soon.’

  Whitney returned to Matt and the attending officer. After ensuring everything was in hand, she left with her sergeant for the station.

  When they arrived back, she handed the phone and licence to Ellie. ‘Go onto the DVLA site and find his address, then start going through his phone.’

  While waiting for Ellie, Whitney called George. It went to voicemail, so she left a message.

  ‘It looks like the same MO. The only difference I could see was the killer left the victim’s wallet, keys, and phone in his trouser pockets. Hopefully you can call in tomorrow and we’ll go through everything together.’ She put her phone down.

  ‘Guv, I’ve got the victim’s address: 228 Whitworth Street, Lenchester.’

  ‘Thanks. I want you to go through his texts and flag anything suspicious. Doug,’ she called to the detective sitting at the next desk to Ellie. ‘Find out what you can about him. Marital status. Where he works. I’ll go to his house. Matt, you can come with. We have his keys so we can go inside if there’s no answer at the door.’