Angel of Death

by Anna-Marie Morgan

  She had missed her, then. She missed her, now.

  The DI crossed the room to the sliding doors and peered out over the dunes, remembering the broken Tasha on the beach a few days ago.

  Turning the key in the lock, she wandered out onto the soft sand, catching her hair in her hand as it scattered around her head, breathing deep of the sea air and closing her eyes while leaning into the wind, which she could do without falling over.

  Yvonne wandered on to where she had found the psychologist on her knees. If asked why she needed to do that, she couldn't have explained it. A compulsion to continue walking until a few feet from the foaming waves. She stayed there for several minutes, turning everything over in her mind, before returning to the relative shelter of the cottage.

  Once back, she wandered through to the kitchen where her bag lay on the countertop. No voicemails. One missed call from Dewi. Nothing from Tasha.

  She tapped on the missed call from Dewi and waited for him to pick up.

  "Hello, Yvonne?"

  "Hi, Dewi. I missed a call from you."

  "Yes. I thought you should know that we've received a message from the killer."

  15

  Killer’s missive

  News crews were everywhere. They had swamped Newtown and the police station car park.

  Yvonne sighed, eyes closed and holding her breath, before removing her seatbelt and throwing open the car door.

  A reporter pushed a microphone in her face and, as cameras flashed around her, she lost count of the number of times she repeated the phrase, "We're holding a press conference tomorrow. I can't give you more until then, I'm sorry."

  Dewi came out of the station to greet her. Give her moral support. He put a hand on her elbow as they pushed inside. "Sorry, about all that. It's gone mad here since we found the second victim and, to make matters worse, the killer sent a letter to the Powys Times, which he wants to go out in tomorrow's print run. The DCI hasn't decided whether to allow them to publish. He's liaising with the crime commissioner and the Home Office and he's asked to speak to you."

  "I see." Yvonne ran a hand through her hair. "Where is the letter?"

  "It's with the DCI."

  "What does it say?"

  Dewi shook his head. “So far, only the DCI has seen the message but they know all about it." He flicked his head in the direction of the madness. "At least those at the Powys Times' offices do. Whether they gave that info to other papers is anyone's guess. But the national newspapers and the BBC are aware the killer sent something in, even if they don't have the contents."

  "Is it confirmed as coming from the killer?"

  "Llewelyn said it mentions the feathers and we haven't released that information. It has to be him."

  Yvonne took off her coat as she and her sergeant mounted the stairs, throwing it over the back of a chair in CID. "I'd better talk to the DCI and find out what is going on. If I can tell you anything, after we've finished, Dewi, I will."

  "Right-oh, ma'am."

  Yvonne straightened her skirt and tapped on the DCI's door.

  "Come in."

  She entered to find him on the phone.

  He pointed to a chair next to his desk, running a hand through his hair which appeared unkempt. Not like him at all.

  They’d had several meetings since having dinner at his home which she was pleased had passed without awkwardness. She admired the fact he was a gentleman who could take rejection on the chin.

  She chewed on the knuckle of her right thumb as she waited for him to come off the phone. From what he was saying, she surmised that he was talking to the crime commissioner, and they were struggling to agree.

  "All right. Well, I'll wait for an answer when you've spoken with the Home Secretary." He replaced the phone with a sigh and turned to face her. "Sorry, Yvonne. That was the crime commissioner. You heard about us receiving a letter?"

  "Yes, sir, Dewi told me. What's the message?"

  He handed her a piece of A4 from his desk, grimacing as he did so. "That's a typed copy. The original is with forensics."

  Yvonne read aloud.

  "If you go down to the woods today,

  you'd better go in disguise.

  If you go down to the woods today,

  you'll never believe your eyes.

  Each protestor, ever there was,

  will die in there for certain because?

  I'm bored right now and

  I'm going to make a picnic.

  Hope you like the feathers."

  "Sick, huh?"

  "Using a child's song, for heaven's sake. Confirms the link between the victim's though."

  The DCI nodded. "Campaigners."

  "Even more reason to view him as local, wouldn't you say?”

  “I would agree.” Llewelyn nodded.

  “He signed himself Angel of Death." She pursed her lips.

  "What's the matter?"

  "Nothing." She shook her head. "I came up with that name for him from the beginning, because of the feather he left between the victim's legs."

  "Ah, yes, the feathers... Well, the crime commissioner says we should allow the Powys Times to publish this letter, as requested by the killer."

  "What will happen if we don't?"

  "He doesn't say. He wrote on the envelope, 'to be published in the Powys Times' and he gave tomorrow's date. That means tonight's print run."

  "Wow, that doesn't give us much time to decide."

  "Exactly. We've got ourselves a killer who wants to play games."

  Yvonne remembered Tasha. This was an occasion when her help would have been invaluable. "Are we going send it to print?"

  "We are. I'm calling for hunt saboteur and environmentalist groups to join us to discuss safety of their reps out there. We've got a clear target group, and I feel in my bones that the Angel of Death hasn't finished with it, yet."

  The following morning, Yvonne found Callum looking through CCTV footage. "Did we get anything useful from Castell-y-Dial?" she asked, as she flicked through her notes for the morning briefing.

  "No, ma'am. I'm afraid not. Someone covered it with a plastic bag, most likely the killer. We obtained the bag and forensics have looked it over, but they found no prints and no useful DNA."

  "How did the perpetrator reach the camera?"

  "Well, it's not that high. There aren't any tall buildings to mount a camera on, so the camera is only five feet up. The owners only had it installed to monitor the entrance. It catches a piece of the road running past and that's about it. If a vehicle had parked near the entrance they would have caught it with that camera, had the perp left it uncovered."

  "And there was only the one camera?"

  "Yes."

  "That's a pity." Yvonne sighed. "I know people value their privacy, but times like this, you can't have too many cameras, can you?"

  Callum nodded. "It's steep up there. It would be tough to carry a person. I think the killer incapacitated Terry Lloyd close to where he died."

  "I think so, too. And we know he was protesting the wind farms, so the killer would have known he was likely to be up there. The question is, how is our killer able to isolate his victims. How does he know when they'll be alone?"

  "Forums?" Callum asked. "Most campaign groups have a website and social media pages."

  Yvonne nodded, her eyes on the trees outside. "And my guess is he would monitor them."

  "It would make sense."

  "All right. Get the details of all relevant campaign groups in the area, to include their websites and social media pages. Ask Dai to help you. Many groups are closed groups and the killer would have to join them, meaning he would have an identity on their sites. If the same name keeps coming up for the various groups, we should look into it. It's a long shot, but it's worth a go. Concentrate on those people who have joined eco groups over the last twelve months. Keep me up to date."

  Callum nodded, stretching to his full height. "Will do."

  16

  Double event<
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  The first of June began with a downpour that bounced out of guttering, flooded roads and filled ears with a crescendo of noise.

  As Yvonne drove into work, she regretted having taken her wellingtons out of the boot the weekend before, and hoped she wouldn't have to leave the office. It wasn't just the rain. She'd had a fitful night in which sleep had been an elusive and nebulous entity, where death and winged monsters haunted her dreams and cold sweat pervaded her moments awake.

  The day seemed wrong. Torn. If anyone had asked her why? She would have struggled to tell them. Something didn't sit right. That was all.

  Dewi greeted her as she entered CID. "Leave your coat on, ma'am."

  She examined the look on his face, the muscles tense, eyes dark. "What is it, Dewi? What's happened?"

  "He struck again. Two victims, this time, in Pen-Yr-Nant wood, near Llanidloes. A male and female, as yet unidentified."

  "Oh, no. When?"

  "Details are patchy at the moment, but it looks like he attacked the victims some time yesterday and kept them somewhere until he could place them in the wood overnight."

  "Damn it!" Yvonne closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, they blazed with anger and determination. "All right. Let's get ourselves down there. Find out what happened to them."

  She wanted to see for herself and yet dreaded the scene, knowing the killer would have staged it for maximum impact on those attending. Her gut quivered, leaving her feeling sick.

  Officers had cordoned off a large part of the wood as teams prepared to comb the surrounding area. The whole of SOCO were on scene. They worked in a numbed silence as they struggled to comprehend the horror before them.

  Yvonne and Dewi suited up in the hastily erected tent before going for a closer look at the bodies.

  Both victims appeared to be in their twenties. The killer had posed them opposite and facing one another, each propped against a tree, clothed, legs splayed, arms behind them. Hands nailed to their respective trees, just as with previous victims. The male had suffered a nosebleed which had poured over his lips and down his chin. The female had no injury to her face, though her eyes were dark and sunken. Both had the killer's signature, a white swan feather, placed between their legs.

  This time, the killer put a rope around the victims' necks and tied them to the trunk, to keep their heads up. To force them to view each other. To watch each other die.

  Yvonne swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat persisted. Every muscle in her body clenched in almost tetanic tightness. Her instinct was to scream with anger, frustration, and horror as those emotions coursed through her, letting her cries echo through the hills and valleys of the surrounding countryside. Instead, she cursed under her breath as tears pricked her eyelids. Her clenched fists blanched as she imagined getting her hands on the person responsible.

  A uniformed officer approached the DI as soon as she removed her face mask. "Ma'am?"

  "Yes?" She turned to acknowledge him.

  "PC Davies." The officer in his forties removed his cap and wiped the sweat from his brow.

  "Hello." Yvonne eyed him, head tilted, waiting for him to continue.

  "I wanted to inform you that I recognise these victims. We've dealt with them in the past."

  Yvonne took out her pocket book. "Go on."

  "The male is Robert Griffiths. He works... worked as an apprentice at a local garage. Twenty-five years old and known for being involved in protests in the local area against plans for a leisure complex by Bannerman Holdings. There are a few incidents on PNC. Nothing too serious, but we arrested him for two section five public order offences in the past, in relation to his environmental protests."

  "I see. And the female?"

  "Sarah Jones, aged twenty-seven and worked in the Red Lion pub in Llanidloes. Again, nothing much on PNC. One section five and a section four public order offence, in relation to protests she carried out. We warned her for pinning up flyers against the proposed leisure complex. She drummed up a lot of support and was a major influence on the local community which got the first planning application for the leisure complex quashed. I understand the second planning application is in and they were protesting it during the last few weeks."

  "Thanks for the heads up." Yvonne nodded. "Tell me, were they together?"

  "You mean an item?"

  "Yeah."

  PC Davies shook his head. "As I understand it, they were seeing each other a while back. They shared a flat in Llanidloes. They split up about a year ago and have been living separate lives. I think they only came together for the protests they were both so passionate about."

  "Do we have the names of other protesters in their group?"

  "I think we filed that information in the system, ma'am. Your guys should be able to access all of that. However, if you need my help, just let me know."

  "Thank you, I will."

  Dewi rejoined her, after having been to talk with SOCO. "I don't envy them." He flicked his head towards the plastic suits on their knees, swabbing the victims and taking samples. "They were so young."

  "I know." Yvonne sighed. "Twenty-five and twenty-seven. No age at all. Their lives had barely begun."

  "He planned the whole thing well. Had to have done. Taking down two young people like that. It wouldn't have been easy."

  "I agree. And now we know that they were eco warriors, too, confirming our suspicions about the killer's victim choices."

  "Them too?" Dewi narrowed his eyes.

  Yvonne filled him in with what the PC Davies had said.

  "Bannerman Holdings?" Dewi pursed his lips. "Never heard of them."

  Yvonne took out her mobile and dialled Callum's number.

  "Callum Jones." His voice was firm and even.

  "Callum, it's Yvonne."

  "Ma'am?"

  "Callum, I need you to find out all you can about Bannerman Holdings. Do you remember the brochure that Krysta had in her room? They are the company who would like to build a large leisure complex in the Llanidloes area and have been applying for planning permission. Can you find out who heads the company and, if you can, arrange a meeting with them as soon as possible."

  "Will do. Is everything okay out there?"

  "No, Callum. We've got a double murder, and the scene is grim."

  "Oh, that's not good. Right. I will get on with it, ma'am, and get a meeting set up for you. Do you want me to ring you?"

  "No thanks, Callum. I'll catch up with you when we get back to the station."

  17

  Safety first

  The meeting room at Newtown library had filled and the noise risen to a level that almost hurt her ears. There was limited seating and several people stood at the margins, arms folded.

  Yvonne looked around her. The attendees were angry and frightened. But they were all united in their desire to stop the killer. They wanted police to reassure them that the investigation was progressing and to restore confidence and stability to their community.

  Dewi accompanied Yvonne, but the meeting was to be headed up by DCI Llewelyn, who had yet to arrive. She stared at the bare-brick walls of the room, her eyes following the lines of cement from brick-to-brick while she contemplated the murders and closed out the hubbub.

  The DCI strode in, peaked cap tucked under his arm, sleeves rolled up, his gaze determined.

  That was enough to quiet the room. Within two seconds, the only noise heard was the odd cough and throat-clearing.

  "Thanks for coming, everyone,” he began. "This has been a difficult time. You have lost friends and colleagues and are living with the fear of being targeted yourselves by a killer who has no conscience. Please let me reassure you that we are doing everything in our power to catch the person or persons responsible and bring them to justice. For now, we need to safeguard you when you are around woodland areas."

  Yvonne watched people raise their hands to ask a question, or make suggestions. Llewelyn asked them if they had any idea who would target their commun
ity in this way. An uncharacteristic silence greeted him. People looked at each other, hoping they might have the magic answer. Nobody did. And the comments and questions continued.

  She watched their expressions, wondering whether anyone in the room could commit the heinous crimes witnessed over the last several weeks. None struck her as a psychopath. That didn't mean they were innocent.

  The meeting ran twenty minutes over. But in that time, they agreed an interim plan. Police would be notified when protests were ongoing and would increase patrols in and around woodland, and land under protest. Monitors would be present during land pickets and the DCI would be the main point of contact.

  Dates were agreed for followup meetings and community leaders appointed to speak at future press conferences.

  As they left, Yvonne felt they had helped assuage the fear in the room, but knew they needed a breakthrough. And soon.

  18

  Futurecon

  "What do we know about Terry Lloyd?" Yvonne asked her team as they crowded round the Whiteboard in CID.

  Callum read from his crib sheet. "Twenty-nine-year-old male, living on Barnfields with his girlfriend Melanie Griffiths who was also an active campaigner in the area. He'd been protesting the siting of wind farms around Mochdre, and destruction of trees he felt to be of historical significance. He wasn't averse to chaining himself to railings and vehicles, in fact."