Suffer the Torment, page 16
“I left around eleven. I was tanked up, like. Went home and passed out.”
“Who was at home?”
“My aunt was up, watching TV. You can ask her when I came home.”
Sarah made some more notes. Then she tapped the pen on the page, thinking. She glanced at Roy, and he was still as a statue, observing Jason.
She asked the teenager, “Why didn’t you go to see Emma last night?”
Regret spasmed across Jason’s face. He rubbed his forehead once, then stared down as he spoke. “I should’ve. I just didn’t want to get back with her. She was messed up in the head. Like, real mardy, you know. Used to cut herself and that. Talked about resetting herself and all that crap.”
Sarah leaned forward a touch. “Did she tell you about this app called ‘Reset’?”
Jason frowned. “No. What’s that?” He looked confused, and again, Sarah felt it was genuine.
Roy turned to face Sarah, then indicated the recorder in silence. Sarah understood, and spoke into the recorder, pausing the interview. Roy rose and left the room, and she followed.
They went into the room next door, where they could see Jason and Keenan through the glass box. Client and lawyer were engrossed in a conversation.
“If he was in the pub last night that makes it impossible for him to be the murderer,” Sarah said. “And he left to go straight home. We can catch him on CCTV. That pub’s in Grimesthorpe, I’ve seen it driving past. Camera’s out on the street.”
“We can track him home,” Roy said, stroking his chin. “He knows that. I don’t think he’s lying. Which just means …” He sighed.
“We need to find another suspect,” Sarah finished for him. “What do you want to do with Jason?”
“We’ve got 24 hours, so let’s keep him in custody overnight. I don’t want to charge him with possession, that ruins the NCA operation. In any case, we found nothing on him, and that charge won’t stick.”
“You never know, he might recall something new about Emma by tomorrow morning,” Sarah said. “The question now is, if not Jason, then who? It’s not Dean, I can tell you that. His mother’s given him an alibi, and the lads are checking CCTV around his house to make sure he stayed at home last night. Luke also stayed at home, and in his case, we have his dad and brother as alibi’s. Marla, well, she was at home, and for all of them we’re checking CCTV.”
“Paul Walker,” Roy said. “We need to find him. But more importantly, it’s Emma’s new bloke.” Roy held the door open for Sarah and they paused in the little corridor before going into the chamber that led to the interview room. “Find her bloke, and we find the killer.”
CHAPTER 37
The Master was having a smoke outside the police station. He had been at Parkwood Springs and watched the fun and games as the idiotic police chased Jason around. Then he followed the big detective and his thin side kick back to the station. He parked at a safe distance from the rear entrance, then walked around. He knew where the cameras were. He wore a hoodie jacket, and dark glasses that wrapped around his face like ski goggles.
There was a park opposite the police station, and he went inside. He sat down on a bench under the shade of a tree. He took out his phone and opened up the app. His followers had posted hundreds of messages about Emma. She was free now, her life reset, and she could do as she wanted. She would never again be constrained by the limits of this tedious life.
Do you want to be free? Experience the ultimate freedom?
He wrote on the app, and the likes and emoji started to appear, followed by the comments. The Master smiled. That slow burst of adrenaline thrummed in his veins, that giddy, heady feeling of power. He could do as he wanted. All he had to do was pick one of the people on the app and select them as the chosen one. He closed his eyes, and his lips parted as breath left his lungs in a rush. He panted, savouring the feeling.
He would reset another life soon, his thirst for blood was returning. These children were his disciples, and their crimson tide would become a river, and cleanse the country. The blood stream would avenge Gloria, purify her memory. The thought of Gloria saddened him, puncturing his bubble. The euphoria seeped out like air escaping from a burst balloon. He bit his lips, trying to control the tears that threatened. He wiped his eyes, then let out a shaky breath. He relaxed his hold on the phone which he was now gripping too tightly.
More messages had arrived, asked for the next online session. His followers wanted to hear him speak. He did this once a week, when he told them about his former life, and how he liberated himself. It was the same story, but they wanted to hear it from him.
He noticed some of them had asked about Emma. He wrote back, saying her family were coping, and there was nothing more to say. It was time for another chosen person to reset their life, but the time hadn’t arrived as yet. That made him think about what Emma said before she died.
She told him the name of her new lover. When he realised who it was, revulsion swept across him in a tidal wave. How could she? His plan had been to take Emma prisoner, keep her captive and torture her slowly. Stream the whole event life, evening after evening. That would have got him more followers. He would have been famous. But no – the stupid bitch had to go and sleep with …
Rage suddenly burned inside him as he remembered her words. After she told him, he couldn’t control himself. He slashed at her neck with the knife, letting loose an arc of blood spray from her neck. Then he stabbed her in the abdomen. It wasn’t the plan; he had ruined the canvas. Her body was going to bear the marks of his knife in thousands of patterns. Instead, she would now die from that ugly gash.
But she should’ve thought of that before she started going out with this man …
He would learn his lesson, of that the Master was sure. He sent a few more messages on the app, promising his followers there would be a live session this evening. A time for everyone to show their scars and appreciate them. He logged off, then walked out of the park.
His car was parked here, but he wanted to walk, just to clear his mind. The cemetery wasn’t far, across the fields. It was his daily pilgrimage. He didn’t make it every day, but when he didn’t, he looked at the photo of the gravestone.
Once inside the cemetery, he kept his head down as he passed a group of mourners. The sun had faded, but it’d been a nice day, and people were slowly filtering back home. The Master couldn’t allow himself to be recognised. His big hoodie hid his face effectively. He relaxed when he was alone.
In the waning light, he stood in front of the blue and grey marble gravestone. Gloria’s name and dates were engraved on it, and at the base, the withered flowers he had placed two days ago. He took out the small bouquet from his pocket and knelt by the gravestone, replacing the flowers with fresh ones. Then he sat on the bench opposite and stared at the gravestone.
Images rippled across his mind like stormy waves in an ocean. Gloria, helpless and desolate, calling out for him. Her face was bruised and swollen; one eye almost shut. He couldn’t help her. He had reached out, consoled her, but in the end, he had failed. His body shuddered as he recalled the hideous abuse she had suffered in the foster home. She had escaped, then she was raped in the care home she ended up in. She got depressed and started self-harming. Her cuts were lacerations in his mind, heart, and soul. So deep down they would never heal.
The Master closed his eyes and wept.
CHAPTER 38
Melanie was at her desk when Sarah and Roy trudged upstairs.
“Still here?” Sarah asked. It was gone past seven p.m. “Your girls will be missing you.”
“Derek’s at home. How about your son?”
“My mum’s looking after him. We’re all done here anyway. Off you go.”
“Not yet,” Melanie said, pointing at her screen. It showed a live feed from a satellite map. A gridwork of streets in a city, with traffic moving on the streets, and a cluster of cars in front of a house. Melanie clicked on the keyboard and zoomed in. Uniformed police were going in and out of the house.
“That’s the address in Chapeltown that Riz gave us. Paul Walker was there, and he’s just been arrested.”
Roy was standing behind them, both hands on his waist. “That was quick. Good work.”
On the screen, all but one police car moved away from the house. “I spoke to the SIO,” Melanie said. “They’ll transfer him tonight. They found nothing in his house though. No drugs stashed in the basement or loft, no guns, or other weapons.”
“We can question him first thing tomorrow,” Roy said, stretching. “Thanks, Mel. Did the lab get back with the phone data?”
Oliver came into the office, with a tray of tea and biscuits. “Bloody hell,” Roy said. “Aren’t you the keen bean. And still wearing the same suit?”
“First time for everything, guv,” Oliver said. “New shirt though. Bit baggy, mind.” He’d borrowed one of Roy’s shirts after the shower as he had none left.
“Got to grow into it, son,” Roy said. “Takes time.”
“Aye, bet it does.” He handed Roy a cup. “Pressed your tea bag, like. Should be strong enough.”
“Thank you. Where’s Riz?”
“He had to go home he said. Something about his parents but could come back later if needed.”
Roy shook his head and looked at Sarah. “We’re all done for now, right? Apart from the phone data.”
“I got it here,” Oliver said, opening up his laptop, and sipping his tea at the same time. “The Reset app belongs to the dark web. That’s why we couldn’t find it. I got into the dark web and downloaded it. It’s on a subscriber basis only, and asked for it, but not heard back as yet. I can’t access the app’s contents without a subscription.”
“Who do you ask? Is there an email? We could trace the server,” Roy said. “If it’s an email in the outside world.”
“Nope. The email is from a dark web domain, and we can’t put a geo-link trace on it.”
“Normal web browsers won’t work on the iPhone, so Emma must’ve downloaded a VPN to access the dark web,” Oliver explained.
“If you can’t get into the app, we don’t know what’s in it, right? Apart from the ghastly stuff we’ve seen already and frankly, I don’t want to see any more,” Sarah said. “But it would be good to know who the members are.”
“They’d had screen names and we can’t identify them, I’m guessing,” Oliver said. “But at least we can see what goes on.”
“Okay, let’s hope your subscription is activated,” Roy said. He dunked a custard cream in his tea, to frowns of disapproval from Sarah and Melanie. “What about the call list?”
“Still waiting for data from the phone company. You know what they can be like. Might have to lean on them again tomorrow.”
Oliver was staring intently at his screen. Melanie went away but returned presently with a tray and three cups of tea.
Oliver was still frowning at the screen. He spoke with his eyes glued to it. “Bloody hell. I just got the CCTV from Smith’s Jewellery. Come and have a look at this.”
Roy went around to Oliver’s desk and leaned over his laptop. So did Sarah and Melanie. The screen showed a man inside a jewellery shop, his back to them. He wore a blue jacket and jeans, and a baseball cap, but his face wasn’t visible.
Rizwan said, “The necklace on Emma had a serial number, and we sent it to the jewellery store. They tracked it to their sales data and found the date and time it was sold. We’re now looking at CCTV from that day – which was Thursday 4th April. Four weeks ago.”
“I spoke to the manager again this am, and he’s just sent me these files,” Oliver said, his fingers busy on the keyboard. He brought up the footage from the cameras that faced the man. He was in his early-to-mid-forties, Roy thought. He had the distinct impression he’d seen the man somewhere before. The baseball cap obscured his features.
“The necklace was sold at ten-past-two in the afternoon, and the time stamp is five-past-two,” Oliver read from the screen. “Here we go.” The man on the screen approached the counter and gave the cashier the necklace. He lifted his face, and then lowered it quickly, maybe because he saw the camera pointed at him. Or maybe he didn’t. But it was long enough for Roy to see who it was, and the audible gasp of surprise around the desk meant so did everyone else.”
“Chuffin’ heck,” Sarah said. “I can’t believe it.”
Oliver had paused the footage, and the man’s face was frozen on the screen. It was James Ridpath, the school headmaster.
CHAPTER 39
“That’s not all,” Oliver said. “All the CCTV from the school where Emma was last seen has also been analysed.” He looked at Melanie, who nodded.
“There’s this footage of Emma in the sports hall, playing basketball. She talks to Mr Ridpath for a while, and they stand fairly close. Nothing shady, no touching, but you can tell they’re close.”
“Let’s see the footage,” Roy asked. They crowded around Melanie’s table as she pulled her laptop up and went to the relevant page.
Roy noted the time and date, day before yesterday, at half past midday. Emma was tall and skinny, and she wore a sports skirt, and a long-sleeved white vest. She was relaxed, and other students were visible in the background.
“They talk for almost ten minutes,” Melanie said, speeding up the tape. She changed the file and clicked on another.
“And this is from last week, in the school yard.” Emma was visible in a group, with two boys whom Roy identified as Jason and Dean. She separated from the group and went inside the school. The camera picked her up going up the stairs, and then into a corridor. She went into an office and shut the door behind her.
“That’s James Ridpath’s office,” Melanie confirmed. She speeded the tape up again, and after twenty minutes, Emma emerged. She was wearing jeans, with a top and cardigan. She kept her head down and hurried down the corridor.
“Jeez,” Sarah breathed. “Who would’ve thought.”
Roy glanced at his watch. It was getting late, but this was a tremendous, and disturbing, breakthrough.
“Where does he live?” He asked the question to the team, and Sarah was already looking at her phone.
“He lives in Grindleford, just outside southwest Sheffield. I’ve also got his number here.” She got up and walked out of earshot to make the call.
Oliver said, “I know where that is. Not far from Hathersage actually,” He looked at Roy. “We can be there in less than an hour, with traffic.”
Sarah came back. “He’s not answering. We don’t have his home number.”
“I’m searching under his address,” Melanie said. It didn’t take her long. “Shall I call?” She looked at Roy, who nodded, then took the phone from her when it started to ring.
“Hello? Good evening, my name is DCI Roy from South Yorkshire Police,” Roy said, in as gentle a tone as he could muster. “Sorry to disturb you, but is it possible to speak to your husband, Mr Ridpath?”
The woman who answered the phone identified herself as Melissa Ridpath. “He’s not at home,” she said. “He’s away for a school board meeting. It’s in Leicester, and he’ll be staying the night there.”
“I see, that might be the reason why he’s not answering his phone. Do you know when he is back tomorrow morning?”
“He should be here by midday, he said.” Concern crept into the woman’s tone. “What’s wrong? Is this about the schoolgirl who died?”
“Yes, it is. New evidence has come to light, and we need to speak to your husband about it. If you get in touch with him, can you please tell him we need to see him? I will try to call again. Here’s my number if you need to call.”
Roy provided the details, then hung up. “Call the duty uniform team,” he said. “Tell them to keep an undercover squad car near Ridpath’s house. If he comes back earlier, or if his wife’s lying, we need to know.”
“Why would James kill Emma?” Oliver asked.
Sarah said, “If they were lovers, and she exposed him, he could lose his career. That’s a big motive. He probably knew where she would be last night. That’s the opportunity.”
“Let’s triangulate his cell phone. We need a rough location. If necessary, we can alert Leicestershire Police with his location.”
Melanie rang traffic, while Sarah and Oliver got busy with digging into James’s past. HOLMES was a good place to start, and then they narrowed their search into Yorkshire, then Sheffield and south Yorkshire.
Eventually, Sarah sat back, looking at her screen. “James Ridpath’s been a headmaster for about six years, and he was an English teacher for many years before that. He was born in Rotherham, and lived in Salisbury in Devon, and did his teacher training there. Also met his wife there. He’s been in Sheffield for the last eight years. No PCNs, no cautions, nothing. Lives with his wife, and two children, aged twelve and eight.”
Roy bent his head in thought. Often, the worst abusers hid in plain sight, without a police record. That’s why it was so hard to catch them. They were squeaky clean. Was James Ridpath one of them?
Melanie hung up on the phone. “They did the triangulation. Ridpath’s phone is switched off. Last known location is in Grindleford, where he lives.”
Roy said, “Call Marla now, make sure she’s at home. Tell her not to answer if James Ridpath, or any of the schoolteachers, rings. Do the same with Dean and Jason.”
As Melanie and Oliver made the calls, Roy paced the office corridor. Sarah came up to him. “So, Emma’s new lover was Ridpath. I can’t believe it. But I did think he was funny when I saw him at the school.”
“I know what you mean,” Roy said. “I just hope we get him before he does anything else.”
“You think it’s him? He killed Emma?”
“Like you said, he had a lot to gain by silencing her.”
Melanie called out to them. “I told Marla’s parents not to let her out of sight, and not to attend school till I speak to them again.”
