Remains of the Night (Murder Force Book 3), page 6
“Do you think he might be hanging around?” he asked.
Ryan shrugged. “Battle gave us a talk about being vigilant, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to have a look around.”
“Find anything?” Dani asked.
“No, guv. He’s long gone.”
Tony felt a sense of relief wash over him.
“Good work,” Dani said. “Get a couple of uniforms to watch this area and get Cross and his team over here straight away.”
“Will do, guv.” Ryan took his phone out of his pocket and stood watching the officers moving painstakingly through the field while he rang headquarters.
“I’m going to see if they’ve pulled the file on that burglary,” Dani told Tony, starting back towards the car park.
He joined her, less wary of the woods now that Ryan had given the all-clear.
“I feel more optimistic,” she said. “A tyre track. A possible connection to a burglary. We’re getting somewhere, Tony.”
Tony said nothing. It was true that they were making some progress but he was aware of the ticking clock that “C” had set in motion with his note and the time it took to do things like analyse tyre tracks and investigate old burglaries.
When they got to the Land Rover, he turned and took a last look at the woods. The killer wasn’t hiding in there but he could be waiting somewhere else, ready to make good on his promise.
He climbed into the vehicle just as Dani started the engine and put the radio on. Chief Superintendent Gallow’s voice came out of the speakers. He’d obviously decided to hold a press conference regarding this morning’s events.
They’d only caught the tail end of it, though, because Gallow was saying, “So again, I’d like to reassure the public that the Murder Force is on this case and will take every possible step to bring this man to justice.”
The broadcast continued with the press asking Gallow questions, but Tony wasn’t listening
The Chief Superintendent had just told the killer who to target.
Chapter 6
An hour later, Tony was sitting at his desk, in front of a fan that did little to alleviate the heat in the office. On the desk in front of him was the case report he’d just read regarding the burglary at 42 Chase Crescent last year.
The report contained scant information. It basically said that the Jensons had returned home from a week’s holiday in Alicante to find that the rear window of the property—the same window that had been smashed last night—pried open. A number of items had been stolen from the house.
No neighbours reported hearing or seeing anything suspicious.
The missing items were listed out in the interviewing officer’s messy handwriting. The burglar had taken a couple of pieces of Mary Jenson’s jewellery, some cash that had been left in a ceramic bowl by the front door, and a camera that had been hanging by its strap on a hook under the stairs. Matt Jenson, the photographer in the family, had recently bought a new camera and had taken that one on holiday. He’d probably used the new camera to take the beach photo that was pinned on the board in the incident room. Either with a timer and a tripod or by asking another holidaymaker to take it.
“What do you think?” Dani said. She was perched on the edge of his desk again. “Was it him?”
“It could have been.” Tony shrugged. “There isn’t much to go on. I take it the stolen items were never recovered?”
“No, they weren’t.”
“Are the crime scene photos available yet?”
“Yes, I think so.”
He leaned forward and tapped on the keyboard, inputting his username, password, and case ID. As well as making hard copies of documents and photos, the Murder Force techs had set up a system to share all relevant information on the local network.
Navigating to the folder of crime scene photos, Tony scrolled through the various pictures of the downstairs of 42 Chase Crescent until he found one that showed a small shelf by the front door. On the shelf sat a ceramic bowl that looked like it had been made by one of the children and painted a garish green colour.
The crime scene tech who’d taken the photos had also taken a picture of the bowl’s contents. Tony brought up that photo and examined it.
The bowl contained loose change, a five pound note, a ring of keys, a small notepad, and pen. The usual sundries a family might keep together in one place in case they were needed. It was the keyring that interested Tony.
“Do we know what those keys are for?”
“I assume they’re spare house keys,” Dani said.
“That’s what I thought. So if the burglar took money from this bowl, why not also take the keys to the house?”
“There aren’t any keys mentioned on the list of stolen items.”
“No, there aren’t. Because if the keys went missing, the Jensons would understandably change the locks on all the doors. But we know he looked in this bowl when he robbed the house because he took the cash. What if he took the keys as well, had copies cut, and then returned them before the Jensons got back from holiday?”
“And then used his copy of the key to get into the house last night?”
“Yes.”
“But why would he do that? He got in without being heard before, so why not just use a crowbar again?”
“Because this time there were people in the house. If the burglar is our killer, then he knew that the next time he came back to the house, the family would be at home.”
“So there was more chance of being heard. He had to be more careful.”
“And since he had a key, why not use it?”
Dani thought about it for a moment. “Perhaps he robbed the house last summer just to get a copy of the key. He took the other items to make it look like a regular burglary. He was planning to kill the family, even back then.”
“Yes,” Tony said. “What he did to the Jensons wasn’t some spur of the moment thing. He’s been planning it for a while. As far as he’s concerned, it’s part of something larger. A transformation he’s been going through for some time. Certainly as far back as last summer.”
“It sounds plausible,” she said, “but it doesn’t help us find him. There were no witnesses last summer. No fingerprints. No leads. We might have sussed out what the burglary was all about but it doesn’t help this case.”
Tony sat back in his chair, frustrated. When he’d first learned of the burglary from Mr Beech, and had made a tentative connection with the killer, he’d believed they were one step ahead of their quarry. But if that connection came to nothing, they were no further ahead than before.
He was acutely aware of the ticking clock “C” had started. He had to do everything possible to stop the fate the Jensons had suffered from befalling another family.
“What if the next family he’s going after were burgled in the same manner?” he said. “Perhaps it’s his modus operandi. Steal a key while the family is on holiday and come back at a later date. Can’t we reverse engineer that? Check the records for families whose houses were broken into while they were on holiday last year and try to determine his next target?”
“That’s assuming he’s going to do the same thing again. You’re assigning him an M.O. but we don’t know for sure that he even took that key.”
“Then how did he get in? We know it wasn’t through the window because Mrs Beech saw him running away seconds after it was broken.”
Dani looked at the crime scene photo on the computer screen but Tony could tell by the faraway look in her eyes that she wasn’t really seeing it; she was deep in thought.
“Perhaps a more important question,” she said after a couple of seconds, “is why he went to great lengths to hide the fact that he had the key. Why break the window on his way out to make it look like he got in that way? What does he have to gain if we’re fooled into thinking he got in through the window?”
“What does he have to lose if we know he had a key?” Tony said.
“It connects him to the burglary. But there isn’t any evidence in the burglary case. No leads, no suspects.”
“So there’s some other reason he doesn’t want us to know it was him who broke in last year.”
“I’m going to check the records for other burglaries in the area last year,” she said. “Maybe we’ll be able to find his next target, like you said.”
“I thought that was based on too many suppositions.”
“Have you got any better ideas?”
“No,” he admitted.
“While I’m doing that, would you mind getting us something to eat from the shop around the corner? Looks like it’s going to be a working lunch today. Do you mind?”
“No, of course not.” The truth was, he was hungry himself. “What do you want?”
“Salad sandwich on brown bread.”
“Got it. Won’t be long.”
“Thanks, Tony.” She went back to her own desk and started tapping information into her computer.
He left the office and took the stairs to the ground floor. When he got outside, he saw Tom Ryan’s Aston Martin pulling into the car park. He gave the DC a quick wave as he walked toward the gate. No need to take the car today. The weather was glorious and it was cooler to walk. Besides, the Greedy Pig sandwich shop wasn’t far from the headquarters building.
“Tony, where are you going?”
Tony turned to see Ryan jogging over to him.
“To get lunch,” he said.
“The sandwich shop?”
Tony nodded.
“I’ll come with you.” Ryan said the words in a serious tone.
They walked out of the gate together and turned left towards the small industrial estate that was located nearby. The buildings there included a three-storey office block, a property letting company, and an Audi showroom. The Greedy Pig served the employees of those establishments and the others on the industrial estate, including members of Murder Force who made the short journey from headquarters to pick up some lunch.
“You’re not coming with me just to protect me, are you?” Tony asked Ryan.
The detective constable shrugged. “Can’t be too careful these days.”
“Especially when we’ve received a warning from a killer.”
“I don’t know the specifics but Battle told us all to be vigilant. Said this nutter has written a note or something, threatening us. You’re the shrink; you think he’s likely to come after us?”
“I wouldn’t say likely, but it’s possible.”
Ryan scanned the windows of the surrounding buildings, as if expecting to see a sniper hanging out of one of them.
Tony doubted “C” could have heard the news this morning, found out who worked for the team, and put a plan into action already but then reminded himself that the entire purpose of Murder Force was to be high profile.
The website listed the names of every member. It was supposed to bring the team closer to the public, but it was data that could be deadly in the wrong hands.
Once “C” got the names from the website, a few online searches would probably reveal more personal information about the members of the team.
He felt glad that Ryan was with him. That was probably irrational but he felt it, nonetheless.
One of the local businesses had just let its employees break for lunch, so there was a queue outside the Greedy Pig. Tony and Ryan got in line.
“So, how long before you get inside this guy’s head?” Ryan asked.
From the cheeky smirk on the DC’s face, Tony wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. “Get in his head?” he asked neutrally.
“Yeah, you know, understand his mind. Know his next move even before he does. I’ve seen Wire in the Blood and Manhunter. I know how you psychologists work.”
“It isn’t like television or the movies,” Tony said. “We don’t just look at a crime scene and instantly know what the perpetrator of the crime was thinking.”
“No, I didn’t mean that,” Ryan said. “You’ve got to get into his head, right? Think like him. Act like him.”
“I will not be thinking like him and I certainly won’t be acting like him.”
“I don’t mean killing people.” Two women standing behind them looked at each other, shocked, and Ryan lowered his voice. “I just mean getting an insight into his character so we can catch him.”
Tony pursed his lips, considering the DC’s words. Was Ryan making fun of him, or did he really regard psychological profiling so highly? The ex-SAS soldier-turned-copper was something of an enigma.
“I’m working on it,” Tony said. He intended to go over the note from “C” again when he got back to the office. It might deliver the insight Ryan was talking about.
“What about you?” he asked Ryan. “What are you up to, other than skulking around in the woods?”
“Whatever Battle tells me to do next. I’m reporting to him when I’ve had my lunch.”
“I suppose you find this boring sometimes,” Tony said. “Police work, I mean. After what you did in the army, it’s probably a bit tedious.” He didn’t really think Ryan was getting bored; he was just fishing for information.
“No, not really,” Ryan said.
If Tony was hoping for the detective constable to elucidate, he was going to be disappointed. Ryan went back to silently watching the buildings across the road.
After a couple of minutes, when the silence between them was growing awkward, Tony decided to try another tact. “So,” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. “The SAS. I bet you saw plenty of action.”
“I can’t talk about it,” Ryan said flatly.
“No, of course not. Official secrets and all that. I don’t want to know any details; I’m just making conversation.”
Ryan narrowed his eyes slightly, but said nothing.
“All right, let’s change the subject. Why did you join the police?”
“Are you psychoanalysing me, Tony?”
“What? No, I’m just chatting with you.”
The line moved forward. As they got closer to the shop, Tony could smell potatoes baking in the oven and mushrooms and onions frying on the griddle. His mouth watered and his stomach grumbled.
Since he wasn’t getting much out of Ryan, Tony pulled his phone out of his pocket and did an Internet search for the term “Demon in the abyss.” The phrase sounded fairly broad, and he wasn’t hoping for much, but the first search result that came up made his heart skip a beat. It was a Wikipedia entry titled Choronzon.
Was that where the killer had got the initial “C” from? He clicked into the entry.
Choronzon is a demon that originated in the writings of 16th century occultists Edward Kelley and John Dee. In the 20th century, he became the “dweller in the abyss” in the mystical system of Thelema founded by Aleister Crowley. Choronzon’s function is as the destroyer of the ego.
Tony stared at the words on the phone screen and remembered the penultimate line in the note.
I am the destroyer.
“You all right, doc?” Ryan asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” he said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. He couldn’t tell Ryan what he’d found; the note’s exact contents were being kept secret for now. And he wasn’t sure if what he’d just read was actually connected to the words the killer had written, or if he was making them fit.
Who was he kidding? The Choronzon entry fit the note perfectly, right down to the initial “C the killer had signed off with.
They moved into the shop. The heat inside the building was stifling, the lights too bright. Tony ordered a salad sandwich for Dani and a baked potato with mushrooms, onions, and beans for himself. He was desperate to look at the entry on his phone again and search for more information about Choronzon on the Net, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He had to get back to the office.
After paying for the food, he waited outside for Ryan.
When the detective constable came out with a foil-wrapped cob in his hand, he looked at Tony closely. “You sure you’re all right, doc?”
“Yes,” Tony said, starting a fast stride along the pavement . It wasn’t far from the Greedy Pig to headquarters but at the moment, it felt like the building was miles away.
“Listen,” Ryan said, “I didn’t mean to be cagey with you about my army days. It’s just that I’m not allowed to talk about it.”
“No problem,” Tony said.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Of course.”
“It’s just that you can’t seem to get away from me fast enough.”
Tony realised that his stride had almost become a jog. “I have to get back to the office,” he said. “There are some things I need to check up on.”
When he finally reached the building, he strode up the stairs and into the office, Ryan following close behind.
Dani was at her desk, staring at her computer screen. Tony went over and placed the salad sandwich in front of her.
She looked up, distracted. “Oh, thanks, Tony.”
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, sorry. I’m just a bit distracted. The pathologist found foreign objects in the throats of Todd and Mary Jenson.”
“What kind of foreign objects?”
She pointed at the screen.
On the screen were two photos. Each had a ruler running along the bottom and left edge to show the scale of the objects pictured. Each photo showed a card that looked as if it had been crumpled but then straightened carefully.
Tony leaned in closer to get a better look.
They were tarot cards. The one on the left showed a man in medieval clothing collecting swords. He had two leaning against his left shoulder and one in his right hand. Two other swords lay on the ground. The roman numeral V was written at the top of the card. The Five of Swords.
The picture on the right was the Six of Swords. Beneath the numeral VI, a man directed a boat across a lake toward a distant island. A hooded woman sat in the boat and in front of her, six swords were embedded in the boat’s hull, point down.
