What did Helen expect? Marie and Anna must have been there for nearly two weeks—why would anyone remember anything that far back?
“Okay, what about the ME’s report?”
Charlie dived in—there was no point dressing this up. “Both victims were emaciated and severely dehydrated. Anna Storey died of asphyxiation. A pillow with traces of her spittle and snot on it was found close to her body.”
Helen tried not to react. Mariehadkilled her daughter after all—albeit with tenderness. That somehow made it worse.
Charlie continued: “Marie Storey died of cardiac arrest following multiple organ failure. Brought on by starvation and the effects of dehydration.”
Mark saw the effect these simple words were having on Helen—and everyone else in the team—so he jumped in with his crumb of good news.
“There’s no CCTV anywhere near those projects—vandalized ages ago. Forensics have dusted the flat from top to bottom without any joy, but they did find a partial footprint on the edge of one of the flowerbeds by the tower entrance. A high heel estimated to be a size six. Uniform is doing the rounds with an image of the woman in the lime green Puffa and Kappa cap—see if it jogs any memories.”
“Good. What about the gun?” Helen continued.
“Still loaded when found. No sign of use,” said DC McAndrew, picking up the baton. “It’s a Smith and Wesson, probably from the early 1990s. The Ben Holland gun was a Glock and the gun that killed Sam Fisher was a modified Taurus.”
“Where’s she getting them from?” Helen countered. “Is she ex-military? A cop? Let’s check if any of the guns harvested in last year’s amnesty have gone missing.”
McAndrew scuttled off to do Helen’s bidding. With no hard evidence to speak of—the sedatives used were over-the-counter stuff, the phones no-contract pay-as-you-go—and little in the way of witness statements to describe this killer chameleon, all they had to go on was pattern and motive.Whywas “she” doing this? She forced her victims to play a diabolical game of Eeny Meeny Miny Moe, confident in the knowledge that the shooter would ultimately suffer much more than the victim. Was the ongoing trauma of the survivor the point, the pleasure? Helen opened the question to the floor. If so, would the killer circle back to watch these trauma victims, to enjoy her victory? Perhaps they should be putting extra manpower/surveillance on Amy, Peter, etc. Costs would rocket, but it might be worth it.
“How could she know which one would be killed?” Charlie asked.
“Good question. Does she really know the pairs so well that she can predict the victim?” Helen replied.
“She can’t do, surely?” DC Sanderson replied.
Helen agreed:
“It seems unlikely. She couldn’t possibly predict how people would react under that sort of pressure. Which begs the question: Are the victims chosen completely at random?”
This was more likely. Some serial killers groom and stalk, but most select their victims based on opportunity rather than identity. Fred West picked up hitchhikers, Ian Brady abducted truant children, the Yorkshire Ripper struck at random...
Except...Helen knew three of the victims personally. Helen offered this to the room, but received a muted reaction. What had she been expecting? A blinding theory laying the blame at her door or a robust and firm denial that her knowledge of the victims was important? She got neither because, as Mark pointed out, Helen had never met Amy before. He was right, of course—it was an interesting theory but didn’t stack up properly. Amy was the odd one out—there was no pattern.
“What about if she chose them because they were easy targets?” Charlie intervened once more. “Because they were isolated and vulnerable?”
A murmur of agreement from the team.
“Amy and Sam were a quiet couple. She’s not much of a social animal and neither was he. They were private, with a few close friends. Ben Holland kept himself to himself. He’d grown more confident over time and got engaged, but he still lived alone, even though his wedding was just a few weeks away. Anna and Marie were all alone in the world. Perhaps the killer targets them because shecan?”
Helen found herself nodding, but again it wasn’t a foolproof theory. It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t be missed. Amy was very close to her mother and Sam’s mum was an active part of his life. Ben was engaged to be married—he certainly would have been missed. Anna and Marie weren’t on anyone’s radar of course, but Social Services would have found them in the end.
The key was to find a link between the victims. Or prove that they were abducted simply because they were in pairs.
Helen called the meeting to an end. Tasks had been allotted—trawling databases for anyone with past convictions who might bear a grudge against Helen or killers with a penchant for elaborate sadism or game playing—though in her heart Helen didn’t expect them to turn up anything.
It was a riddle—pure and simple.
41
Everyone was surprised when Peter Brightston suddenly announced he was returning to work. His fellow partners had urged him to take three months off—six if he wanted—motivated in part by concern, but more by the fear of how people would react to having him back. Peter was boorish, but people were basically fond of him, if only because he knew the law inside out.
But he had stabbed Ben. Killed a colleague. And there was nothing in the HR manual about how to deal with that. The sense was that he wasn’t going to be charged—the police had been coy but intimated that it was some kind of terrible accident. And Peter had toed that line, failing to give any of them the details they craved yet feared.
When he turned up after a few weeks’ rest and recuperation, it was against the advice of his doctors and counselors. But Peter was determined—January was always a busy month for the firm—and what could they do? Oust him when he hadn’t been charged with anything? End his twenty-year association with the practice and throw him on the scrap heap because of an accident? The truth was, no one knew what to do, so predictably they did nothing.
He arrived first thing on a Monday morning. Prompt as always. The office was strangely hushed that day, as Peter sent a few e-mails and made the odd cup of coffee. But no one had scheduled meetings with him—Ease yourself back in gently, Peter—and his colleagues soon found excuses to shoot off to the Bournemouth office or take a client out on a long lunch. After all the buildup to his return, the polite inquiries about his health and well-being lasted only half an hour and then it was back to normal.
