DC Grounds looked relieved to have got through this first bit. He was a married father of three and not entirely comfortable relaying these details to younger, female colleagues.
“Matthews contributed using the alias ‘BigMan.’ Reid hadn’t contributed but had had conversations with other men in the forum, using the name ‘BadBoy.’ The forum has a long history and we’re still wading through it, but it appears that other men in the forum had recently reviewed a new girl who would let you do ‘anything’ to her.”
Grounds looked around at the sea of dispirited faces. It was a good lead, but a sad indictment of humanity. Sensing a dip in morale, Helen stepped in.
“We’ve also had some feedback from SOC. The blood we extracted from Charlie’s clothes”—heads turned in Charlie’s direction—“was that of the third victim. ID in his wallet suggests his name is Gareth Hill. We’re triple-checking that before contacting his family and I’ll confirm as soon as I can. So the blood was no help, but they did recover samples of what we think is the killer’s DNA from the scene. Forensics lifted it late last night.”
A buzz went round the room.
“It doesn’t match any of our records, but it’s the first concrete evidence we have and could be crucial in securing a conviction. Just as important, it tells us something about our girl. The DNA was found in saliva on the victim’s face. It had settled in a series of thin layers spread one on top of each other. So this wasn’t her spitting on him deliberately or an occasional excretion of saliva as she worked on the body. The patterns suggest that this was her talking to him or more likely shouting at him, given the amount of saliva and the pattern of its spread. Was she denigrating him as she killed him? Letting him know exactly what she felt about him? Possibly. No saliva was found on the first two victims, suggesting what?”
“That the other killings were more rushed? That she had less time to enjoy herself?” Charlie interjected.
“Yes. Or that she cleaned the other victims up. There is some evidence of an alcohol-based cleanser on their faces—we’re not sure yet whether this was something they used as part of their daily routine or something she used to destroy evidence. If it’s the latter, it suggests our killer possesses a degree of cunning as well as a deep, real anger against her victims.”
A sense of determination seemed to be growing within the team—finally they looked to be getting somewhere. Helen seized on this energy.
“We will follow up on all those lines of inquiry, but I also want us to think laterally. If she hates these men and wants to expose them, then she will presumably want to enjoy her triumph. I’ve asked for extra manpower so we can watch the families of the victims in case she shows up. I want surveillance at the funerals, at their homes, places of work—I’ve asked DC Fortune to run this for now. Also, you will no doubt have noted the absence of DS Bridges. He is doing some undercover work for us on this case, which I am coordinating, and for now this is on a need-to-know basis. If it becomes relevant to your inquiries, you will be informed. But for now assume he doesn’t exist—DC Brooks will be temporarily filling his shoes.”
Once more all eyes swung to Charlie, whom Helen had suddenly promoted, albeit on a temporary basis. Would people support this decision or resent it? Charlie kept her eyes straight ahead.
“Last thing—we’re going to shake our killer’s cage a little. She’s probably already rattled following her near miss, so I want to turn up the heat. I’m going to let the press know that we have her DNA and that it’s only a matter of time before we ID her. I want to make her angry. I want to make her careless.”
Helen paused a moment before concluding:
“It’s time to take the fight to the enemy.”
49
Caffè Nero was packed to bursting, which is why Helen had chosen it. It was on the high street in the smart suburb of Shirley. A million miles away from the grubby brothels and ill-lit streets patrolled by Southampton’s sex workers.
Helen was pleased to see that Tony had arrived and was waiting for her, tucked away in a booth at the back as agreed.
“How are you doing, Tony?”
He looked drawn, but oddly cheerful.
“I’m okay. I’m actually... okay.”
“Good. So this will be our regular spot to debrief. We’ll arrange our meets by text and meet here only. I should say up front that if at any time you feel it’s not working or that pursuing this avenue of investigation is putting your life at risk, then you call me and walk away immediately. Your safety is my number one priority.”
“I know the drill, boss, and there’s no need to look so serious. It really is okay. I was shitting myself last night, but it turned out fine. In fact, I think I might have something.”
“Tell me.”
“Well, I didn’t have much luck to start with. I trawled Bevois, Portswood, Merry Oak without any joy, so I headed south to the docks and picked up a girl there. Samantha. Early twenties but an old hand on the street.”
He had Helen’s full attention now.
“We went to a hotel she knows. I told her I liked to watch, so I let her do her thing and then afterward I chatted to her as I drove her home. She was cagey at first, but she had obviously heard rumors about a girl killing punters. She doesn’t know anything useful, but there’s another girl who occasionally works the docks who’s been talking. Saying she’s seen the girl. Apparently there’s a warrant out on her for a couple of things, so she’s not going to be coming forward, but if I can get to her, then...”
Helen’s heart was beating faster, but she reined in her excitement.
“Okay, follow it up. Be careful, though, Tony. It could be a setup—we’ve got no way of knowing how people will exploit this situation. But... it sounds promising.”
Helen couldn’t suppress a small smile, which was reciprocated by Tony.
“Anyway, go home and get some sleep. You’ve earned it.”
