Bad Seed: a gripping serial killer thriller (DI Kate Fletcher Book 3)

by Heleyne Hammersley

  ‘But she did it?’

  ‘Yep,’ Chloe sighed. ‘Went to the hospital and got it sorted.’

  ‘The DRI? Not to a fertility clinic?’

  ‘No. I went with her. It was in the main hospital.’

  Kate tried to hide her disappointment. For a few seconds there had been a glimmer of hope, a hint of a link to Melissa Buckley. ‘And she’s made no attempt to use the eggs?’

  ‘Is this relevant?’ Siobhan asked. ‘It seems a bit personal.’

  ‘Trust me,’ Kate said. ‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’

  ‘She said that she might visit the fertility clinic to explore her options. I don’t think she’d met anybody special, but she’d got the all clear and she wanted to know if she could still have kids naturally. I don’t know if she went through with it, though.’

  There might be something in her email, Kate thought, or a letter somewhere in the flat. They’d need Siobhan’s permission to search but it seemed likely that they’d meet with little objection.

  ‘Where did she go last night?’ Kate asked. The link with Melissa had been established but it required further investigation. It could be a coincidence and they needed to follow every possible line of enquiry rather than get side-tracked.

  Siobhan looked anxious. ‘I have no idea. I was back late from Nottingham and she wasn’t in when I got home. She’d been talking about meeting some bloke who worked in a bank but I don’t know the details. She showed me his photo online – but everybody fakes them, don’t they? He looked all right, a bit studious, glasses and a goatee, but she liked that type. She probably started at Madrigal’s. That’s where she usually meets online dates. It’s often busy and very public, not many shady corners. She liked X-Ray as well but, if she wanted something quieter, she’d probably go to the Swan – they serve decent food and it’s not too expensive. She never lets the man pay – said it led to all sorts of expectations.’

  Hollis was scribbling furiously. Kate found herself warming to Chloe Welsh. She’d had a rough start in life but she seemed to know her own mind and she was also sensible about her expectations of men.

  ‘Siobhan. When Chloe was using an online dating site did she use her phone or a computer?’

  Siobhan glanced down at the laptop case. ‘Both. Mainly her phone but sometimes, when she was writing an essay, she’d check her messages as a bit of a break.’

  Kate leaned down and picked up the case. ‘Is this Chloe’s?’

  Siobhan smiled. ‘It’s always lying about somewhere. She never remembers to put it back in her room. I keep telling her that I’m going to drop something on it one day, or trip over it but she never listens.’ Her last word became a strangled sob. Kate could see that the reality of the situation was catching up with Siobhan and their window of opportunity might be closing.

  ‘I’m going to send my colleague to get an evidence bag and we’re going to take the laptop if that’s okay? There might be something on it that could lead us to whoever did this to Chloe.’

  Even to Kate’s ears it sounded like she was trying to use Siobhan’s loyalty to Chloe to gain access to potential evidence but she needed to act fast. If Chloe had met her killer online he might have already deleted his profile, which had probably been fake anyway. It was a slim chance but it was all they had.

  While Hollis went down to his car Kate quizzed Siobhan further about Chloe’s life but there was nothing out of the ordinary and, significantly, no obvious connection to Melissa Buckley other than the fertility clinic. Siobhan painted a picture of a young woman who loved life, despite the tragedy that had shaped her younger years, and was planning for a bright future.

  She explained that a forensics team would need access to the flat and to Chloe’s room and gave Siobhan her number in case she remembered anything else. Laptop bagged and signed for Kate left the girl slumped on the sofa with her grief.

  Just as she was about to open the passenger door to Hollis’s car Kate’s phone rang. An unknown number.

  ‘DI Fletcher?’ It was Siobhan. ‘I’d like to be the one to identify Chloe’s body if that’s okay. And the man that Chloe was thinking about meeting, the bank one? His name might have been Mike or Max, something like that.’

  Chapter 20

  Sunday lunch had always been Dan’s favourite time of the week when he’d been growing up. His mum had always started early, preparing the veg and putting the meat in the oven soon after breakfast. Lamb was his favourite but he didn’t mind if it was chicken or beef because the ‘trimmings’ were always the same: crispy roast potatoes, mash, mushy peas, carrots and Yorkshire puddings. It was the Yorkshires that he’d looked forward to the most. Two with his meal and another one smothered in raspberry jam for afters. Since he’d been an adult he’d had Sunday lunch at pubs and restaurants but it was never the same. The Yorkshires were always too crispy and he’d never been offered raspberry jam.

  He knocked on the door despite being told countless times not to bother; it just didn’t feel right walking in now that he didn’t live here anymore. It was the first time in over two months that he’d been back to his parents’ house. He’d used the pressures of work as an excuse but the truth was, he’d been unsettled by the return of his ‘real’ mum and he didn’t want to contaminate his parents’ home with her poison until he’d managed to get it in perspective. He’d wanted to postpone the visit again but he was running out of excuses.

  He hadn’t seen Suzanne for a few days and he was starting to feel a bit better now he’d spoken to Kate. The nights were difficult though. The Buckley/Welsh case and the nagging doubts about his biological father’s identity kept leading him back to the bottle and he was aware that his parents would probably be able to see and smell the evidence.

  ‘Dan!’ His mum threw open the door and pulled him into a hug. Not an easy task for her as she was only five feet two and he towered over her. She held him tight then pushed him out to arm’s length so that she could get a better look at him.

  ‘You’re looking skinny. I bet you’re not eating properly.’ She scowled up at him, her deep brown eyes shrewdly assessing his face. ‘Working too hard, knowing you. You look tired and I bet you were out drinking last night.’

  Dan smiled down at her, feeling the warmth of her welcome seep into his muscles. As soon as he’d pulled his car onto the drive he’d started to relax and the hug had finished the job. No need to tell her that he was indeed drinking last night – but on his own and quite heavily.

  Anybody who met his parents would have been able to see that Dan had been adopted. Maggie, his mother, was tiny and round. Her dark hair had faded to a distinguished grey as she’d aged and her battle with her weight was long since lost. His father, Joe, was also small but, where Maggie had padding, Joe had points and angles. His fair hair had receded to the point of invisibility and his blue eyes were lost under bushy eyebrows, as though his facial hair was overcompensating for the scarcity of its brethren on his scalp. He was peering over his wife’s shoulder, grinning excitedly like a teenager who’d just got to the front of a queue to see a celebrity.

  ‘Dan. Good to see you,’ Joe said, finally managing to push past his wife and grab his son by the hand. Never very emotionally demonstrative, Joe had managed to convey as much affection with a handshake as his wife did with a hug. His hand was strong and warm, very much like the man who offered it.

  ‘Come on through then,’ Maggie was saying, leading the way into the kitchen. ‘Do you want a cuppa?’

  Dan declined, seating himself in his customary seat at the kitchen table. It was here that he’d sat every afternoon after school, doing homework or eating his tea while his mother fussed over him and told him how clever he was and what a good life he was going to make for himself. As a teenager, Dan had been sceptical about his mother’s predictions rather than rebellious, but he had to admit that his mum had been right. He had done well at school and he was making a good life for himself – as long as he didn’t allow other people to ruin
it.

  While his mum fussed over the final preparations for the meal, Dan told his parents a little about work, especially the last big case which had fascinated them at the time. Maggie had always been a firm advocate of the ‘right to die’ but a recent case of assisted suicide had been much more complicated than it first appeared and it had shaken some of her certainty. The case had been in court recently and Maggie had been following it avidly, her pride in her son apparent as she listened again to his account of his own role in bringing a killer to justice.

  Lunch eaten the family sat in the cosy living room, Joe drinking his second can of lager of the day, Dan with a Coke and Maggie with a cup of herbal tea. Dan had tried to broach the subject of Suzanne while they had been eating but his mum had regaled him with stories of his cousin, Martin, who had just bought a camper van and was intending to renovate it and travel Europe for six months. Dan had smiled, tolerantly. He’d always been measured against Martin as they’d been growing up and, as Dan had turned out to be more reliable and a better scholar, Martin had always come up short. Dan hadn’t seen Martin for years but a small part of him envied his cousin’s laid-back approach to life.

  Now, in the soporific after-lunch period, probably wasn’t the best time to bring up his birth mother but Dan felt the need to warn his parents that Suzanne was causing trouble just in case she tried to draw them into her drama. There was no easy way to broach the subject so he went for the direct approach.

  ‘Suzanne’s back,’ he said. ‘She’s been hanging around Doncaster Central spreading her bile.’ He tried to keep his tone light but he knew that Maggie wouldn’t be fooled.

  ‘What does she want?’ his mum asked, sharply, putting her cup down carefully and balling her fists as though preparing for a fight.

  ‘The usual. Money.’

  ‘You haven’t given her any?’ His dad was equally concerned.

  ‘Nope. And I’m not going to. She got into my head for a bit but it’s my own fault for allowing her to get to me. I’m feeling a bit better now.’

  ‘What do you mean “got into your head”? Is she trying to play some sort of mind games with you?’ Joe leaned forward in his seat and Dan could see that he was getting angry at the mere mention of the woman who had accidentally given birth to his son.

  Dan hesitated. He’d never been much good at keeping secrets from his parents. He decided, as usual, that the truth was the safest option. He explained about Suzanne’s insinuations and his own suspicions about Raymond.

  Joe was shaking his head. ‘I doubt that very much, son. I remember what she was like when you were little. I can’t see anybody with any decency wanting to have anything to do with her.’ He blushed as he realised the implication of what he’d just said. He obviously believed that neither of Dan’s parents were any good. ‘I’m sorry if that upsets you but it’s the truth. Suzanne Doherty is one of the worst people I’ve ever met and it’s hard to imagine her appealing to anybody with any sense. And, for what it’s worth, I don’t believe that kids have to turn out like their parents. You certainly haven’t.’

  ‘Oh, but I have,’ Dan smiled at his father. ‘Any decency and honesty is straight from you and mum. I’m a firm believer in nurture over nature because I’m living proof.’

  Maggie nodded at him and took a sip of her tea. ‘But, if she’s back, Dan, you need to be careful. She’s not to be trusted. Is that why you’ve stayed away for so long? Were you having trouble dealing with her?’

  Dan knew that denial was pointless. He described his mental state when Suzanne had first showed up and his subsequent binge drinking. He knew that his parents wouldn’t judge him and he trusted them to trust him to work out his own problems.

  ‘You can’t let her get to you, son,’ Joe said. ‘She’s poison and she’ll bring you down to her level. People like that always do. Rise above. You’re better than her and you always have been.’

  ‘Easier said than done,’ Dan admitted. ‘I’m still struggling a bit. It’s the not knowing that’s really getting to me. I wish she’d just be honest instead of playing her stupid games.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re better off not knowing,’ Joe suggested. ‘And I know you’d be better off without that woman in your life. You’ve not to let her get to you.’

  Joe was right, Dan knew that, but it wasn’t easy to distract himself from his doubts and uncertainties and he could see that his parents were worried about him.

  The rest of the afternoon passed all too quickly for Dan. It was good to feel safe, good to feel like he belonged. Suzanne had tried to take that away from him and he felt the familiar resentment as he thought about how she’d tried to manipulate him. He distracted himself by talking about the Melissa Buckley and Chloe Welsh cases – in very general terms.

  His mother was appalled but Joe was interested and put forward several theories about the killer which couldn’t possibly work as he didn’t have all the information. He’d watched a lot of crime dramas so some of his suggestions were a little too outlandish for Dan to take him seriously, but he’d obviously been intrigued by the idea that his son might be on the trail of a serial killer. Eventually, Maggie had to stop him from writing down a possible timeline for his imaginary murderer to have attacked both women.

  ‘Too far, Joe,’ she said. ‘Dan’s the detective, leave it to him. He’ll catch the bugger.’

  Dan left, wishing that he shared his mother’s faith in his abilities.

  Chapter 21

  Armed with profile details and potential passwords Sam logged onto her computer and navigated to the me4U website. Having never used online dating, she was curious about what it would entail and how it might work. She looked at the homepage, which promised ‘more than just casual dating’ and ‘the potential for lasting commitment’, and thought about what Kate had told her about Chloe Welsh. This didn’t seem like the site for somebody who was just interested in having a bit of fun. The images were all of glowing heterosexual couples hugging, holding hands and sharing what looked like romantic dinners, all smiling and gazing at each other adoringly.

  She clicked on the ‘Search for a match’ icon and was directed to login or sign up.

  ‘Good,’ she muttered. As she’d expected there was no access to personal profiles unless a fee was paid and details were submitted. She typed in the email address that Siobhan had supplied for Chloe and tabbed across to the password box. She had Chloe’s DOB, childhood pet, favourite bands and some variations on passwords that Siobhan knew had been used in the past. Sam started with variations on the birthday. In her experience most people weren’t very imaginative when it came to passwords and often used the same string of letters and numbers for everything.

  She tried the date of birth forwards and backwards. Nothing. She glanced at the scrap of paper with potential passwords and tried again. This time she tried the dog’s name – Rebel – no luck. She wasn’t surprised. Most websites demanded a password that was a mix of letters and numbers and which contained at least one uppercase letter. She tried again with a capital R. Nothing. Luckily this wasn’t one of those sites that timed you out after three attempts. Sam glanced again at the DOB. This time she tried Rebel with 91, Chloe’s year of birth.

  ‘Bingo,’ she muttered as the profile screen came up.

  She clicked into ‘Account’ to see if she could find out how long Chloe had been using me4U and discovered that she’d only been a member for four months. She’d had a two-week free trial and obviously liked what she’d seen because she’d paid £19.99 per month for the next six months.

  Toggling back to the profile page, Sam read what Chloe had written about herself. It wasn’t quite what Sam had been expecting. Chloe’s profile was restrained and candid rather than the usual fun-loving, good time, GSOH stuff Sam had seen on friends’ profiles. She was struck by a few lines about Chloe’s hopes for the future.

  Studying psychology at the moment. Hope to be a child psychologist because I love kids.

  Again, a little unusual
. Had Chloe been looking for something more long-term despite what her flatmate said? The profile certainly suggested that she was serious and the choice of website was an indication that she wasn’t just out to have a bit of fun.

  Sam clicked on ‘Matches’. There were three – none of them Max or Mike.

  ‘Damn,’ Sam muttered. She’d had visions of cracking the case with a few quick keystrokes, but then, when didn’t she?

  ‘What’s this?’ said a voice from behind her. O’Connor leaned over her shoulder to get a closer view of her screen and Sam tried not to shift her position. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he made her feel uncomfortable.

  ‘Swapped sides, Sam? Looking for Mister Right?’

  She faked a laugh. ‘As if. I’m trying to find out who Chloe Welsh might have met on the night that she was killed. Her flatmate says it was somebody she met online.’

  O’Connor snorted. ‘And you think he used his real name? Who does that? I can guarantee you it was a fake name and a fake photo.’

  Sam looked again at the three matches. Were they all fake? The names seemed quite normal. Chris, Tom and Darren. She made a note of each one but the information available was very thin. Name, age, occupation, interests, what they are looking for in a woman. There were no contact details and the ‘location’ was quite vague. Two had put Doncaster and another was based in Wakefield. She was about to go back to Chloe’s profile to see what she’d put that might have attracted a killer when she noticed another tab. ‘Matched’. This led to another list of three men. Another Tom, a Jamie and an Anthony. Beneath this, in grey, was a further match but this one simply said ‘profile deleted’.

  ‘Shit,’ Sam said, turning to O’Connor. ‘This could be him but he’s deleted his profile. I wonder if there’s any way to restore it.’