Suffer the Torment, page 3
“Cause of death is obvious as you can see. She bled out from the neck, when the carotid artery was severed, but she also has laceration on her elbows, at the brachial artery.” Dr Patel pointed at the poor girl’s arms. She also indicated the ankles, where cuts were also visible. “That’s the posterior tibial artery, above the bulge of the ankle. I would say the killer knew his surface anatomy. These are important blood vessels.”
Dr Patel pointed at the pooled blood around the arms and feet. “Any blood splatter technician will tell you this was high pressure, from an artery rather than a vein. And the cuts are small slashes with a knife.” She looked at Sarah and Roy, and the glimmer died in her eyes. “I think they were done while she was alive.”
“Because they are small, precise cuts? She allowed the killer to make them?” Roy asked. “But the bruising on her neck points otherwise. That was a struggle, right?”
Dr Patel shook her head. “I think he tried to strangle her after the cuts were made. It’s strange. Normally, with a strangulation, there are no lacerations. In this case, the cuts are more like nicks, and then she was also strangled. He could’ve just slashed her neck open after strangling her, why make small cuts?”
“Ritual perhaps.”
“Could be, but I don’t see any other examples of ritualistic behaviour. She’s just been left here fully dressed. No shrine or flowers.”
“He dressed her after making the cuts?” Sarah ventured.
“No,” Dr Patel said. “He rolled up the sleeves, and the ankle and neck are easily accessible. She might even have done it herself, under his command. I don’t know. Or he did them with her permission.”
“Assisted suicide?” Roy frowned. “The self-harm marks on her wrists would go with that.”
Dr Patel glanced at him and nodded. “I agree.”
“First time for everything,” Roy said, and regretted it immediately. Dr Patel’s lips twitched for a fraction of a second, then she turned her back. She waved at Dobson, who came over.
“Soil particles under her shoes, have you taken samples?”
“On their way to the courier for Keele University geo-forensics,” Dobson said cheerfully.
Roy crouched and looked at the hands. Yellow fingernails. This teenager smoked. He looked at her lips. A faint dark tinge of nicotine. She had been smoking a year maybe, no more. He checked the clothes again – the cheap jacket, the faded pink cardigan. He knew some of the brands Anna liked to buy. These clothes came from Primark, or somewhere cheaper still. The trainers on her feet were not branded. Chances were this girl did come from the council estates nearby. He got to his feet.
“It was nice meeting you,” he said to Dr Patel, who face remained blank. “Hopefully we can meet at the morgue first thing tomorrow.”
“Hope keeps us alive, DCI Roy,” the pathologist said curtly.
CHAPTER 5
“She always this charming?” Roy asked Sarah, once they were outside.
“She can be, if you get on her wrong side. She’s a bit sharp with all blokes to be honest.”
“Any particular reason?”
Sarah shrugged. “Just the way she is.”
They walked out to the right of the warehouse, where the three school kids were now sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall.
“You know her by first name,” Roy said. It was a statement, not a question.
“She’s got a son. Teenage lad. Got into some trouble at school, a fistfight. I helped when he got arrested.”
“I see. What about the boy’s father?”
“Not around. She never talks about him.”
They stopped talking when they got closer to the three boys. One of them got up, but the other two remained seated. One of them chucked a pebble to one side as Roy stepped in front of them. The pebble chucker wouldn’t look at them. He was bigger than the others and had an attitude. Probably showing off in front of his mates.
Sarah said, “Can you stand up please?”
The boy looked up at her and grimaced. Then he stood slowly, not looking at them. Roy addressed them.
“Why aren’t you in school?”
“We were,” one of them blurted. “We got time off for sports.”
“Time off to come here and not do sports?” Roy said. “Wish I’d gone to a school like that.”
The boy’s two friends glared at him, and he squirmed.
“Tell us the truth, and there won’t be any trouble. We know you’re not responsible for what happened in there. Why did you come here?”
Two of the boys looked at the taller one, who was still ignoring them. “What’s your name?” Roy asked. He glanced at Roy then looked away. Roy moved closer to stand in front of him.
“Do you know what an accessory to murder charge is?”
The boy, who was close to six feet tall, looked up at Roy and blinked. “We didn’t do nuthin’”
“You can explain that at the station. As far as I’m concerned, everyone’s a suspect. Inspector Sarah, will you please arrest these three?”
“Of course,” Sarah said. She waved at one of the uniformed sergeants, who came running.
“Wait,” one of the boys said, panic blossoming on his face. He nudged his mate. “Go on, tell them.”
Roy eyed them, aware they were just being silly. He pointed at the boy opposite. “What’s your name?” he repeated.
“Dean,” the boy said, then dropped his eyes, and the tension in his shoulders.
“Alright Dean. I don’t want to know what drugs you came here to smoke or sniff. But I want to know what you saw. Got it?”
Dean looked at Roy and nodded. The other two were still now, watching them.
“Go on then,” Roy encouraged.
“We came here around ten, like. Just to hang around. I was hungry, got some fish and fernekers.”
“Fish and what?” Roy frowned.
“Chips,” Sarah said. It was her turn to receive Roy’s withering gaze.
“Since when are chips called … fernekers?” How could anything be realistically called ‘fernekers’? It sounded like a swear word, or some instrument of torture.
Sarah waved a hand like she was swatting a fly. “Since always, guv. Nowt new about it.”
“Nothing normal about it either,” Roy grumbled. “Anyway,” he shifted his attention to Dean. “Carry on.”
“We came in here, like, and sat ova tha’.” He indicated with his hand at a pile of rocks and rubble. “But it were right windy like, so we went in. And that’s when we saw it. Her, I mean.”
“Did you see anyone else when you walked in through the main gates of the estate?” Roy gestured behind him.
Dean looked at his mates. All three lads shook their heads. Sarah asked their names, and they introduced themselves as Travis and Eddie.
“So, there was no one here at all when you came in at 10 a.m.?” Roy repeated. “You sure? You didn’t see a car driving off, or anything?”
The industrial estate was accessed by a road that wasn’t used. The boys had walked up that road, and it was the main vehicular access.
All three boys shook their heads. Roy persisted. “How did you get here?”
Dean said, “We took the bus from school that stops at the main road. Then we cross a field to get to the path that comes in here.”
“What did you see when you went inside?”
Dean looked at his two mates who were staring back at him. Dean was the designated spokesperson, the natural leader. His eyes seemed to go deeper into his sockets, and his voice dropped a notch.
“There was a body on the ground, and blood all around it. We went in from the main gates `ere. That’s the first thing we saw. It was too big to be an animal. We got closer and saw the body. That’s when I called 999.”
Dean went silent. Sarah said, “Do you recognise the girl?”
Roy looked at her in appreciation. A brilliant way to get a positive ID. And it opened up an interesting line of enquiry. Then again, his opinion of Sarah’s police acumen had been high right from the start.
Dean’s face creased in shock. “Nah. Can’t take a closer look at that, like. It’s right gnarly.”
“Aye, I know,” Sarah said soothingly. “But you can do us a big favour like, you know lads? If this lass is from your school, or you see her around, then we can find out who she is.”
The boys looked at each other, then all three stared at the floor.
“Dean,” Roy said, a deeper tone to his voice. Dean glanced at him. “I know this isn’t easy. But sometimes a man’s got to do what’s necessary.”
Dean’s face changed, and he shuffled on his feet. He blew out his cheeks, some of his cockiness returning.
“How old are you? And don’t lie. You’re not a day more than sixteen, right?”
“Sixteen last month,” Dean said, sticking his chest out a little. Roy suppressed a smile and clamped a meaty hand over the boy’s shoulder.
“Good. Can you do this? Can you look at this girl and see if you know her? If you don’t, no harm done. But if you do, that helps us a lot.”
“I can too,” Travis said from the side.
“And me,” Eddie piped up.
Sarah grinned as she looked at Roy.
“Okay,” he said. “One by one. Dean goes first, and then we can think about you two.” The girl was about the same age as these boys, Roy thought.
“Which school do you go to?”
“Bishop’s Manor Secondary,” Eddie said. “Not far, near Attercliffe.”
“Where do you live?”
“In the Southgate Estate.”
Roy looked at Sarah, who nodded meaningfully. These kids came from the estate that was within a long walk.
“Let’s go Dean,” Roy said.
CHAPTER 6
The Master knew the art of hiding in plain sight. He had realised his talent a long time ago, and he had perfected it over the years.
He watched the derelict warehouses, where last night he had met the chosen one – Emma.
He focused on the numerous uniformed policemen and women. He saw a car drive up, and a tall Asian man, and a petite white woman get out. They both wore suits, and he knew what that meant. Detectives. His skin itched with exhilaration, and goose pimples broke out over his arms. He zoomed in on the tall man, who seemed to be in charge. A couple of coppers came over to shake hands and talk with him. The Master wished he could hear what was being said.
The detective couple chatted for a while, then walked into the warehouse. The Master observed the three boys who stood to one side. He had been here when the boys came in and went inside the warehouse. He saw them run out, and talk, then one of them made a phone call. He thought they might scarper, but in the end, all three of them stayed. It didn’t take long for the sirens to sound, and a police car to come rushing in. Not every day a teenager’s body is found in a warehouse.
Now, everyone would take note. Sooner or later, the newspapers would spread the news. Papers? What was he even thinking? Photos would go viral on Twitter, Snapchat and TikTok. He took out his phone and took several photos. He zoomed in several times, showing the police officers standing guard outside the warehouse. He moved, staying low on the ground, aware that movement attracted the eye. He shifted backwards, then to a new angle for taking more photos.
He posted them online, into the app. He captioned all of them.
Emma’s life is reset. She is free and look at the number of people turned out to look at her. Soon, everyone will know her name.
A cascade of likes, emoji, GIFs, and comments poured into his posts. The Master smiled. Social media was the most powerful of all mediums to get his message across. And yet, people got it so wrong. They focused on the wrong people. He knew who to target. Now, he had his tribe. His people. He could do anything he wanted with them.
A wind picked up, bending the fern leaves on the conifers on the hills above the industrial estate, stirring the bracken and heath. Varying shades of grey clouds lined up in the sky, diffusing to a milky white light. The sun was obscured, and he could smell rain in the air. He couldn’t stay here for much longer, even though he wore a trench coat, and had an umbrella. His shoes would be too muddy as he went across the hill and down to where he’d parked his car. He cursed himself for not wearing his wellies. But also, he had to be careful. As the police started investigating, there was always a chance he could come under suspicion. A remote chance, because he had covered his track so well, but a chance, nevertheless. He couldn’t get caught. He was just getting started.
He watched the scene in front of him carefully. The tall Asian man came out, and the same petite woman with him. Her blonde hair was tied back, and she was pretty. The couple approached the three boys and started to question them.
The Master’s breath quickened. Now, this would be interesting. Could the boys identify Emma? It was possible. And if they did, then that was it: the news would spread like wildfire. He shivered in excitement. He posted on the app again, telling his followers what was happening. Live updates of the investigation, that’s what it was. He got a chorus of appreciation, including requests to keep it up. He smiled and replied yes.
When he looked back at the scene below, the detective couple were leading one of the boys inside the warehouse. All hell would soon break loose. Emma would become famous. Who had she been in life? Nothing but a sad teenager from a broken family in a council estate. No one cared about her. No one gave a toss. But he, the Master, and his followers, had now put her on a pedestal.
Emma’s blood would wipe clean the memory of her hopeless life. And Emma was just the beginning. A river of blood would soon flow, a revolution would start amongst young people everywhere, cleansing the whole nation of useless lives.
Today, more than anything else, he thought of the men who had inspired him. The two men who had lit the path for thousands like him. Steven Burns and Keith Burgess. His heroes. The Master knew their story well. That bloody tall detective had put his heroes into prison. Rohan Roy. He would pay for what he’d done. His name might be in the papers now, and he might fancy himself, appearing on TV in press conferences. But Rohan Roy would pay for what he’d done.
The Master imagined Steven Burns guiding his actions from beyond the prison walls. Many months ago, the Master got in touch with Burns. Burns was the mastermind behind the app, and his new followers. With Burns, he made plans to continue his work. The plan was now slowly revealing itself.
The Master was just on the first step of his mission. He had no doubt he would succeed.
He also had a personal vendetta against that idiot, Rohan Roy. He had taken Burns, and Burgess, away from him. For that alone, Roy would pay. He would pay with blood.
CHAPTER 7
Roy stood behind Dean as the teenager looked at the girl. His body was stiff, and Roy could sense he was holding his breath.
“Look at me.” Roy touched his shoulder. The boy did so, and immediately Roy saw the flaring of his nostrils, the hard set in his jaws, and the wideness of his eyes. He was trying to be tough, holding it all in. The boys had run in here, seen the girl, then got out. This was the first time Dean had been up close with a dead body.
“Take a slow deep breath in like this, one, two, three, four, and let it out slowly, one, two …” Roy did it, and Dean copied him. After three slow, long breaths in and out, Dean looked more relaxed. It was a crude form of Pranayama, the breath-based yoga that Roy’s mother had taught him when he was younger. He did it still, and it helped him to relax. Seemed like it was working on Dean as well.
“Good lad,” Roy said. “Now, I want you to get close to her face, and look at her really well, okay? Ignore everything else, her neck, arms, just the face, and nothing else. And I’m right here, so don’t worry.”
In his heart of hearts, Roy was worried about the impact this would have on Dean. The boy would need counselling, and his teachers would be informed. But teenagers had identified murder victims in the past, and they were more reliable than some adults who often had ulterior motives in hiding the truth.
He crouched down with Dean. Sarah did the same, and patted Dean on the arm and smiled at him. Roy shot her a look of gratitude. Dean stared at the girl’s face, her dead eyes stared at the ceiling. Her brown hair, matted with blood, spread like a cloud around her head. Then Dean cried out and fell backwards. Roy was there to catch him, and he helped the boy turn around, and walk away.
Dr Patel and the others stood still, watching. Everyone knew something important just happened. Roy gave Dean a few moments, then touched his shoulder gently.
“Shall we go outside?”
Dean nodded, and Sarah led them outside.
Sarah said, “Let’s go sit in my car.”
Roy agreed and the three of them walked to where the car was parked. Roy waved at Travis and Eddie, who waved back uncertainly.
Dean stared at his lap and twisting fingers. Sarah looked at Roy, and he read the silent message in her eyes.
Sarah said, “You recognised that lass, eh?”
Dean nodded, still staring at his hands. “What’s her name?” Sarah asked.
“Emma. Emma Purkiss.”
“How do you know her?”
“She goes to our school. Year 11. I’ve seen her around.”
“Did you know her well?”
“She used to go out with one of my mates last year. That’s how I know her. Never hung around with her if that’s what you mean.”
Roy was scribbling as Dean spoke. “What’s your mate’s name?”
Dean looked at Roy, then at Sarah. She said, “Don’t worry, your friend’s not going to be in trouble. We just want to speak to him, that’s all.”
“His name’s Luke Riley. I don’t want him to know that I told you.”
Sarah and Roy exchanged a glance. Sarah said, “Is there any particular reason? You scared of him or anything?”
Dean glanced at her. “Nah, he’s me mate, like. Don’t be daft.”
