The two women eyeballed each other.
“You’re the prime suspect in a multiple-murder case. When I arrest and charge you, I am going to be pushing for five life sentences. Without parole and without any chance of reduction. You are going to serve every day of the rest of your life in prison, and any minor, fleeting concessions you receive will be because of what you do now. Right here in this room. If you tell me why you did it—why you killed Martina and all the others—then I can help you.”
“Martina?”Mickery queried.
“Don’t be cute. I want answers, not questions. And if you don’t start giving me some in the next five seconds, then I am going to arrest you and charge you with five counts of murder.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re not going to arrest me. You’re not going to charge me. Which is why I’m going to tell you absolutely nothing.”
Helen stared at her—was this woman for real?
“There’s no one else in the frame, Hannah. You are the prime suspect. And you are going to be charged. There’s no escape this time.”
“I’m guessing you don’t play poker, Inspector—otherwise your bluff would be rather better than this. Let me help you out.”
Helen wanted to punch her between the eyes and Mickery knew it. She continued:
“You are currently hunting a serial killer. Let’s not dress it up as anything else. But more than that, you are hunting a very rare kind of serial killer. A woman. How many female serial killers can you name? Aileen Wuornos, Rose West, Myra Hindley. It’s not a long list. Which is why they are box office. Everybodylovesfemale serial killers. The tabloids, filmmakers, the guy on the street—everyone is fascinated by women who kill again and again. But this one—” She paused for effect. “This one really takes the cheese. Why? Because she’s so canny, so organized, yet so elusive. How does she target her victims? And why? Does she hate both of the people she abducts or just one? How can she predict the outcome? Does she care who lives and who dies? And why them? What have they done to her? Is she the first serial killer in history to get off on those who survive her crimes, rather than through those who are killed? She’s a one-off, unique. And she’s going to be an utter sensation.”
Helen said nothing. She knew Mickery was baiting her and wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of reacting. Mickery smiled and continued:
“There are several endings to this extraordinary story. But the best one—and the one every tabloid hack and reader wants—is that the dogged cop gets her girl in the end. And then we can all have fun poring over her mug shot and reading the twelve-page special full of gory details, ‘expert’ opinions and thinly disguised prurience.”
Mickery was warming to her theme.
“The ending that no one wants—you especially—starts with a blunder. The arrest of an innocent, respectedprofessional”—she stressed that word—“which results in the story breaking before the killer is caught. The tabloids are up in arms, the man on the street is terrified, and suddenly you’ve got millions of eyes scanning millions of faces, driving the killer underground while flooding your incident room with a thousand bogus leads. The killer’s vanished, you’re hung out to dry and I get a very hefty compensation payout with which I buy that boat I’ve always wanted.”
She paused for effect.
“So the question you have to ask yourself, Inspector,” she continued, “is, are you absolutely sure I did it? And can you prove it? Because if you’re not, if you can see the massive blunder you are about to make, then there’s still time for you to stop. To make the right move. To let me go and get back to your investigation. I am innocent, Helen.”
Her name had never sounded so much like a “fuck you.” It was a good speech—no doubt about it. And it raised some pertinent questions. Could Mickery really be so pathologically unhinged and yet so convincing and articulate at the same time? Could someone with such a firm grasp on how others thought and felt really be so sociopathic?
“Am I free to go?” Mickery couldn’t help rubbing it in.
Helen regarded her for a minute, then said:
“I won’t be pressing formal charges over the matters we’ve discussed in this room yet—matters which I shouldn’t have to remind you must remain confidential, as our investigation is ongoing.”
Mickery smiled and gathered her things to go.
“But you did fail to stop when asked to by a police officer, and I think that warrants a night in the cells at the very least. Don’t you?”
And with that, Helen left, leaving Mickery speechless for once.
64
A thousand questions spun around Helen’s head. Was Mickery telling the truth? Maybe Mickerywasn’tthe killer—maybe her obsession with these killings was about something completely different: money. Mickery knew that this story was going to be a worldwide sensation when it broke and perhaps she was desperate to use her inside knowledge of the case to get ahead of the pack.
The more Helen thought about it, the more it made sense. She was probably already drafting an authoritative account of the killings, complete with psychological insights into the killer’s mind-set and bona fide evidence from the police investigation. Her lucky connection with two of the victims had put her on the scent, but she was an ambitious woman and wanted more. When had she made her first approach to Mark? And why him? And where did she get the brass neck to bribe a serving officer to give her chapter and verse on the continuing investigation? If it could ever be shown that her corrupting influence had hampered police attempts to catch the killer, then she would be looking at jail time. That at least was some consolation, Helen thought grimly.
With Hannah cooling her heels in a cell, Helen had a window in which to act. But she would have to do it carefully and by the book. So her first stop was to see Whittaker. As she outlined her case, he sat there grim faced. They had to take Mark off the investigation, obviously, but could they do that without arousing his and others’ suspicions? No—of course not. So they would have to suspend him and charge him. He might then go straight to the press out of revenge and a desire for profit. But Whittaker thought that a healthy payoff, perhaps even the retention of his police pension and service payments, might induce him to keep quiet. It had worked before, and Mark hardly came from a rich background. While it stuck in Helen’s craw to think about rewarding Mark’s treachery in this way, Whittaker was more of a pragmatist.
“Do you want me to handle it?”he asked.
