Gilbourne was silent for a moment. He began walking down the stairs again, from the third floor landing to the second floor.
‘Stuart?’ the pathologist said. ‘You still there?’
Gilbourne could almost feel the tiny pulses of electricity surging in his brain, connections being made. The case that had hung over him for more than a year, the investigation he knew better than anyone else, the hunt that had driven him to the edge and almost derailed his career. The case hehadto solve before his time on the force was up.
‘I’m here,’ he said quietly. ‘Just thinking.’
‘Anything you want me to clarify?’
‘Does it remind you of anything?’ Gilbourne said. ‘The lack of evidence, lack of DNA, the victim profile, the area the body was dumped?’
The pathologist left another beat of silence before answering. He wouldn’t use the nickname – Gilbourne knew Rhodri thought it was just a bit of tabloidese – stooping to that level offended his sense of precision, of science.
Eventually Rhodri said, ‘You mean similarity to unsolved cases.’
‘I mean the Ghost.’
Gilbourne could almost hear the tut of disapproval on the other end of the phone line. ‘Yes . . . and no. Some similarities but some significant differences too.’
‘But it could be?’
‘It’s possible, or a copycat. There was something unusual though, a definite departure from previous victims. We’ve got some residue on the skin suggestive of heavy plastic sheeting which infers the victim was wrapped, post-mortem, then the wrapping was removed when she was dumped. Possibly she was wrapped up to avoid DNA deposition in a vehicle, then unwrapped after she was dumped to accelerate decomposition.’
‘He never did that before, did he?’
‘We didn’t find that residue on previous victims, no. He also didn’t shock any of the victims with a stun gun. May suggest he’s being more careful. If it is the same perpetrator.’
‘Or that he’s learning, honing his technique, getting better at it,’ Gilbourne said. ‘All the signature aspects are consistent – lack of DNA, age and gender of the victim, evidence of pre-planning, the area where the body was found. He’s forensically aware and he’s done this before.’
The pathologist grunted reluctantly. ‘I’d tend to agree with you on the last point – I don’t think it’s his first time. But three attacks in the space of three months and then he disappears off the radar for a year before killing again? What kind of offender pattern is that?’
‘I knew he’d do it again,’ Gilbourne said firmly. ‘It was just a matter of time.’
‘So where’s he been for the past year?’
‘Trying to keep his nose clean, maybe. Trying to find out if he could just stop, walk away from that part of who he is. But the victim alone, if nothing else – her connection to the case. There’s no way on earth that’s a coincidence.’
Rhodri paused again, considering his answer. ‘I suppose I’ll leave that to you, Stuart. More your territory than mine.’
Gilbourne checked his watch. ‘Thanks Rhodri, appreciate you turning this one around so quickly. I’ve got to go.’
‘I’ll email the full report to you now.’
‘And could you copy in my partner?’
‘Already done.’
Gilbourne thought he’d misheard. He stopped on the second-floor landing, where the four major incident teams were housed in a set of open-plan offices, but didn’t pull open the door into the main area.
‘I’m sorry, say that again?’
‘DS Holt, correct? He’s been in touch with me twice already asking for the results to be expedited and emailed to him as soon as I had anything. Asa matter of extreme urgency, he said. A real keen bean, that one.’
‘Yes,’ Gilbourne said, a strange feeling turning over in his stomach. ‘He certainly is that.’
Gilbourne thanked the pathologist again and rang off. Then he opened the door onto the second floor, and walked quickly through the bustle of ringing phones and inquisitive voices, over to the corner that was home to MIT 3. He nodded to a few other colleagues on the team, but Holt was not at his desk. Gilbourne sat down at his own workstation and called his partner’s mobile again.
This time he answered.
