Suffer the Torment, page 26
“Why were you there?”
“I went to drop him home. He invited me inside. We’re old mates, guv, I’ve been to his house before. His mum was there.” Oliver was quiet.
“This is not your fault, Ollie. You just happened to be there. I’ve just seen Riz at the hospital. He’s fine, so don’t worry.”
“Aye, thanks for that.”
“I’ll see you at the nick. Come down there now, okay?”
“Yes, guv.”
Roy could hear the despondence in his voice. In a way, Roy was glad Oliver wasn’t there when the shooting happened. It could’ve been a lot worse.
He got to the office and picked up a coffee from the canteen. Then he went inside his own chamber, then locked the door. His mind was spinning with questions.
The OCN – Wrexham Hill Gang, had got their revenge. Without a doubt, they had an informer. But that was separate from Emma’s murderer. The OCN had nothing to gain from killing Emma. She wasn’t a threat to them, like Paul had been. Paul was dead because they assumed he leaked information. The heads of the OCN were protecting themselves.
Was Jason’s life at risk now? Roy had to assume that. Jason was already under surveillance of the NCA, and Roy knew they would now probably take him into protection.
That left Emma and James’s killer, still out and about. The answer lay in HMP Strangeways. It lay in the twisted, malicious minds of Burns and Burgess. Roy felt that in his guts.
Roy pulled out his phone and called Dr Parsons. To his surprise, the psychiatrist answered. Good job he did. Otherwise, Roy would’ve been on his way for another unannounced visit.
“DCI Roy,” Dr Parsons said. “A bit early, isn’t it?”
“Not early for the killer who’s just got a new victim.”
Dr Parsons was silent. Roy spoke before he could. “You heard me right. The school headmaster, James Ridpath, has now died, with the same MO. I mean the school Emma Purkiss, the first victim, went to. We believe Ridpath was in a relationship with Emma.”
“My goodness.”
“Indeed. And I believe Mr Burns knows who killed them. The same person left my brother’s neck chain at my address. I can’t prove that of course, but both Burns and Burgess had expected that to happen. I knew when I showed the chain. Trust me, doc, they knew about it.”
Dr Parson was again quiet. Roy had to ask for him and the doctor cleared his throat.
“Sorry, I was just thinking. You mentioned a website which was like a fan zone for Burns. He wrote a blog post for them. I went through his emails. I apologise for not monitoring them. It appears he has two different email addresses. It’s very easy to set them up as you know. I’ve shut them both down now. I have the emails if you need them.”
“That would be helpful. Hold on a minute, let me find the website admin address.” Roy looked through his laptop, and then spoke to Dr Parsons again, giving him the email.
“Yes, that’s the one he sent the blog post to,” the psychiatrist confirmed. “Do you know who set the website up?”
“We’ve got in touch with them, but they’ve not replied. On the web hosting server, they used a fake name, I think. The bank details link to an account that’s been shut down.”
Roy continued. “Burns has to talk. We have a second murder on our hands. I know there’s no evidence connecting Burns or Burgess to the murders, but I think the killer slipped up by leaving that chain at my house. He couldn’t help it. He’s gloating, he wants to show off.”
“I can’t force him, Rohan. You know that. What if he doesn’t know anything?”
“At the very least, he knows about this website. Who gave him that email address? And when?”
“I have asked him; he says he had that email for several months. That website was set up after he was arrested. But he maintains an anonymous person sent him that email, and he responded to it after getting incarcerated.”
“Bullshit, and you know it. Burns knew the person. It wasn’t an anonymous email.”
“I’ll keep trying. Do you have a suspect in mind?”
Roy bit his lower lip in frustration. “Still looking, doc. Ridpath was our main suspect till he turned up dead.”
He hung up and called the forensic lab. Dobson answered. “Good Morning,” Roy said. “Any prints from the envelope and necklace Sarah gave you yesterday?”
“Nowt, I’m afraid. Whoever handled it knew what they were doing.”
“And the crime scene in Eyam Moor?”
“The blood splatter technician says the wounds were more deliberate this time. He took his time to cut the neck and engrave Gloria on the forearm. No arterial blood spillage.”
“And with Emma Purkiss the wounds were more violent?”
“Yes, frenzied. He slashed at the neck, as if angry. With Ridpath, he carved him up slowly. Sick bastard.”
That Roy had to agree with. A chill crawled up his skin when he imagined the killer roaming free on the streets, plotting his next victim.
“No prints, apart from the victim’s, and another which doesn’t show any matches on IDENT-1. Could be his wife, or his son or daughter,” Dobson continued. “But swabs from the back seat revealed human DNA. Guess who they matched with?”
“Emma Purkiss?”
“Bingo. And Dr Patel also rang. The sperm sample from Miss Purkiss shows a match with Ridpath’s DNA. No surprises there. But Dr Patel mentioned the magnesium heavy metal fragments in the knife wounds. They came from the murder weapon, she believes.”
“I remember. She said they were from Army issue knives. Is that correct?”
“Not just Army issue. Some armed police units also carry them. Authorised Firearms Officers in Counter Terrorism Units for example.”
Roy thought hard and didn’t like any of the lanes his mind took him down. If the killer was an ex-soldier, or a highly trained armed police officer, basically a paramilitary combatant, he had an entirely new headache to deal with.
“Or it could simply be a coincidence,” Dobson said. “However, I don’t think you can buy these knives online, or on the dark web. Not easy to get hold of them.”
“Hence, not a coincidence,” Roy argued. “We have to assume the killer was used to this knife. Hence, he carved up the names on the victims. We might well be dealing with a de-mobbed soldier.”
“Thousands of them around. You need more than luck. Anyway, I got some good news. The gait analyst found two sets of boot prints. The first one belonged to the victim, but the second prints showed an exact match with the prints from the first crime scene, in the warehouse.”
Roy clutched the phone closer to his ears. This was an important breakthrough. “So, the same person was at both crime scenes. Or at least, someone wearing the same shoe. This is good, Justin. We now have the same person in both crime scenes. No matches on the database as yet?”
“Correct. Same person, but no criminal record on that boot print. There’s something else we found in both crime scenes. Animal hair. It could be coincidence from the second crime scene, as the car was in a Moor after all. But not sure why there would be animals inside a warehouse.”
“The warehouse was abandoned, so foxes are a possibility. Are you sure they’re not human hairs?”
“Yes, positive.”
“Any sign of the murder weapon? We seem to know what it’s made of but can’t find it anywhere.”
“Nope, sorry. We’ll keep looking. Uniforms are still out there. I will let you know if there’s any updates.”
“One last thing,” Dobson said. “The tyre tracks of Ridpath’s car don’t match that of the car outside the warehouse. His sports car has a wider chassis and thicker tyres.”
“Thanks Justin. Send me a prelim report please.”
He hung up, and then sat down. He tapped the phone against his chin. The killer had worn the same shoes to both crime scenes. Had he been in a rush to get in and out? Or did he just not have another set of shoes? Both crime scenes were clear of unidentified prints and DNA. That meant the killer was meticulous. Roy thought he might have some knowledge of forensics. Then why did he not wear shoe covers, or different shoes for each crime scenes? An oversight, perhaps.
Familiarity with forensics was easy these days from the Internet and social media. Anyone could be careful at a crime scene. That didn’t specify the killer. Roy found the animal hairs an interesting feature. He took out his notebook and jotted down a few things.
Sarah and Oliver came in together. “Ey yup,” Sarah said. “Is our kid alright?”
Roy assumed she meant Rizwan. “Rizwan is stable. Only a flesh wound. I’m hoping to catch up with him later.” He looked at Oliver, who was quiet and withdrawn. He opened up his laptop and buried his nose in it. Roy went up to him and pulled up a chair.
“You couldn’t have done anything else.”
Oliver blew out his cheeks and shook his head. “I saw him running out after that phone call. I tried to stop him, but he just went, in his car. I should’ve followed.”
“And make a bad situation worse? You’re not chasing a suspect; this is your colleague.”
“And mate,” Oliver said softly.
“Sometimes you can only help yourself. And I mean that about Riz, not you. He’s going to be alright. So will you. Now come on, we have a killer on the loose.” He clamped a hand on Oliver’s shoulder and squeezed lightly, then stood. His knees popped as he did so.
“Look on the bright side,” Roy said. “You’re still wearing the same suit from last week. Two-day stubble on your cheeks and your hair’s not gelled either. You look normal, for once.”
Oliver grunted and flashed a wan smile.
“And you’re getting arthritis, guv,” Sarah piped up, arching her admittedly graceful neck, and the left eyebrow. “I heard those joints pop from across the room.”
Roy locked with her sparking green eyes. “Just making sure the knees are working, that’s all. It’s all the running I do.”
“And not the bacon butties. Alright then.”
“Speaking of which,” Roy grumbled as he flopped down on his chair. “Not had my breakfast.” He turned to Sarah. “There’s something bugging me. I just spoke to Dobson. The shoe prints match, and the gait analyst says it’s the same person in both the crime scenes.”
“That’s good,” Sarah exclaimed, and Oliver leaned over, interested.
“Yes. But after killing Ridpath, where did he go? The body was cold, rigor mortis not yet claimed the larger muscles. Less than four-six hours since time of death, in that case. I know he had a whole forest to vanish into, but there was a lot of us there. I looked for a while with the others. And the bird came back. No one saw jack.”
“Does that mean no one saw owt?” Oliver asked.
“I guess it does. The point being, how did he melt away so quickly? We had four uniform units there, plus us, that’s eleven. And a drone, and a bird in the sky.”
“He could’ve hidden a car somewhere and posed as a tourist. But we had the roadblocks in place. We did let some cars with families through, though,” Sarah said. “We didn’t collect the reg numbers of those cars, not the ones with children.”
“Or he laid low till nightfall, then escaped.”
Roy told them about the murder weapon, and the magnesium alloy in the wounds. “If he’s a former soldier, then he might be used to creating a lying up point, or LUP as they call it in the Army. He hid there till we left.”
“Uniforms will be up there today. We might find something he left behind.”
“Let’s get some breakfast,” Roy suggested. “We need to find this guy, and some nourishment might help the old brain cells.”
“Yours being the oldest,” Sarah said, as she rose and winked at him.
“And the wisest,” Roy grimaced. “Where’s Melanie?”
“On her way.”
They went to the canteen, and sat down, when Roy’s phone beeped. It was a number he didn’t recognise.
“DCI Roy.”
A male voice he didn’t recognise spoke. “Go outside. I want you alone. Outside, now.”
CHAPTER 64
Anna was drying her hair. She sat cross-legged, in front of a floor-standing mirror. She’d told her dad to buy a hairdryer, and miraculously, he’d remembered. Her long black hair was a real pain to get dry, and she could only do it when she had some time to herself. She stopped the dryer and looked out the window on her right.
The mountains of the Don Valley rose in the distance, and sunlight sparkled over them. Anna felt like she was on holiday. Who knew Sheffield could be so nice? True, she was in the Peak District, but Sheffield was only fifteen minutes’ drive away, as her dad told her.
Anna was looking forward to going for a long walk, and taking lots of photos, then sharing them with her friends on Snapchat and TikTok. Then she remembered what her dad said last night, and a frisson of worry came to her mind, and just as quickly, vanished. Her dad had always been the paranoid type. He needed to understand that she was now capable of looking after herself. He had left a note under the door. There was a police car outside apparently … to guard the house?
What on earth for? The more Anna thought about it, the more she realised the neck chain was some stupid prank by some kid in this village, and her dad had got it wrong. Anna sighed. Wouldn’t be the first time. She made her mind up. She’d go out and about today, while the sun was out. She wouldn’t go far and be sensible. She dried her hair, and was putting everything away, when she heard a knock on the door.
She went downstairs to answer. She saw a policeman standing outside through the door’s peep hole. She opened the door and found a nervous looking young police officer in uniform.
“Hi. I’m James Pickering. Your father, DCI Roy, asked me to check on you.”
“Right. I’m fine, as you can see. I’m going for a walk soon.”
Pickering looked around him, and then tried to look over Anna’s shoulder, which she found a little odd.
“I’m alone, in case you’re wondering,” she said. “Dad said you’ll be out here. Is it just you, or is there another police officer?”
“Skipper, I mean Sergeant Foster’s also here. She’s in the car. If you’re going out, then please let us know. The guv, I mean, DCI Roy told me to look out for you.”
Anna sighed and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This was the Peak District. She couldn’t imagine crazy people hanging around here. It was a sleepy village, not some dodgy council estate.
“I will, thanks.”
Mr Pickering stood there, and scratched his neck, refusing to budge as she closed the door gently on his face. She went into the kitchen and found some croissants in the breadbasket. She made herself a jam croissant and went through her phone as she ate – something she wasn’t normally allowed to do at home. She had ton of homework to do, but it was her first day in Hathersage, and it was meant to rain later, she had checked the forecast. Anna decided to go for a walk now. She got dressed, and went out the front door, locking it.
She couldn’t see the police car outside, nor any of the officers. That was a good start, she thought. The last thing she wanted was that police officer following her around. Anna was sure he meant well, and was just following orders, but she found him a little creepy. She walked down the hill, stopping to admire the view. There was a trail going into the meadows, and she could see it snaking past the farms, separated by the stone walls that put the rolling green land into neat little squares and rectangles. She could follow that trail for a while, but not go anywhere remote. She was independent, but not stupid.
“Hiya,” a male voice said behind her. It made her jump. She turned to find Pickering standing there. He stared at her in that weird, wild-eyed way, then lowered his head to scratch his neck.
“Hi,” she said, then looked away. “I’m going for a walk there.” She wished he hadn’t spotted her. And where was Sergeant Foster? Anyway, Anna was glad there was only one of them, not two.
“I’ll watch over you. I mean, just make sure you’re okay, like.”
“Hmm.” Anna shrugged. She watched as Pickering bent to tie his shoelaces. His shirt sleeves slid up, and she saw the name Gloria tattooed on both wrists.
“Who’s Gloria?” she asked. Pickering startled at the question; his eyes wide.
Anna said, “I saw the tattoos on your hand.”
Pickering closed his eyes, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “She was my sister. She died when she was young.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Anna said and meant it. She felt a rush of sympathy for the guy. He might be weird, but she could see his sister meant a lot to him.
Pickering nodded. “Thank you.”
Anna turned and walked down the path. The sounds of the road faded, replaced by the breeze filtering in through the trees. She heard Pickering clomping down behind her. She looked around her at the open land. The hills shimmered in the distance, and the trees on either side of the path waved in the wind. Sunlight slanted in through the leaves. There was nothing around but the green, rolling fields. Until now, she hadn’t realised how remote this place was.
She walked on and stopped when she saw a figure slumped against a tree. It was a woman, with her legs stretched out, head lolling to one side. Anna frowned and speeded up. Was the woman sleeping? As she got closer, she saw the woman wore a uniform, and a chest rig like police officers did. Alarmed, she looked behind her. Pickering was close, and he had also seen it, she thought. He was walking fast towards her.
Anna looked down at the woman. The left side of her face was almost unrecognisable. It was caved in, and the left eye was almost popping out. Blood matted the entire left of her head and face. It was a ghastly sight, and she screamed in fright, stumbling back. She felt arms grab her shoulder, and she spun around to find Pickering.
“Gloria,” Pickering whispered, his eyes wide. “She could’ve been like you.”
Anna frowned, and tried to move away but Pickering grabbed her, and shoved her against the tree with savage force. Pain exploded in her chest as air rushed out of her lungs. She tried to fight but Pickering was too strong. He slammed her head against the tree trunk, and Anna’s vision became blurred.
