by Andrew Lowe
‘Pilates. And, yes. I’m not hungry. Just surprised to see you turn down something sweet.’
Sawyer stood up, looking over Shepherd’s shoulder. ‘Too sweet. Even for me.’ He raised a hand.
Shepherd smiled. ‘You have quite a camp wave.’
He stood and turned. A young woman in a dark blue nurse uniform approached their table. Mousey brown hair folded over one ear, nervous smile. She hesitated at the edge of the serving counter, and Sawyer caught her taking a quick look around the room, then out of the window. It reminded him of an ex-SAS friend who had to routinely check the exits in any new public area before he could relax.
The woman held out her hand. ‘Are you the police?’
‘Surely it’s not that obvious,’ said Sawyer, shaking. ‘Amy Scott?’
She smiled and shook Shepherd’s hand. ‘Yes. Hello.’ She was struggling to mask her nerves.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Sawyer, this is Detective Sergeant Shepherd. There’s nothing to worry about. We just wanted to speak to someone about a specific matter, and we were advised that you might be best placed to help.’
‘I’ll do what I can, of course.’
‘Can I get you a coffee?’ said Shepherd.
Amy waved him away. ‘No. I’m fine. Just really busy.’
They sat down.
A beat. Shepherd looked at Sawyer, stirring his coffee, and got the eyebrows. He turned to Amy. ‘Ms Scott. You’re involved in the administration around organ donation at the hospital. Is that right?’ She nodded and crossed her legs, hands clasped together over one knee. ‘Could you tell us a bit about your role? About how it all works?’
Amy took a breath. ‘I’m a Specialist Nurse, Organ Donation. They call us SNODs. We maintain lines of communication with the transplant surgeons, recipient transplant co-ordinators, other relevant staff in the donation centres. We liaise with NHS Blood and Transplant on all the relevant documentation, including audit requirements. And if I have any time left after all that, and I don’t, then I work on promotion and education of health care professionals and the general public, about the benefits of organ and tissue donation.’
Shepherd nodded. ‘And so you’re right at the frontline when it comes to harvesting the organs of the recently deceased?’
Amy winced. ‘A lot of donor families and medical staff consider the term “harvesting” offensive. It can also put people off. We use “donated” in everyday comms, and the clinical community uses “retrieved”. So, the teams of surgeons who are sent to donors are all part of the National Organ Retrieval service.’
‘Okay. So, assuming the potential donor is on the… National Organ Register?’
Amy nodded. ‘Organ Donation Register. ODR.’
‘Right. Assuming a recently deceased person was on the ODR, and they died at this hospital, then you would be involved in the retrieval of their organs?’
Amy glanced at Sawyer. He was picking the pecan nuts out of the pastry. ‘Yes, I would. I would check they’re on the register, and discuss the possibility of donation with the family. Even if the deceased person is already registered, then I will still need to seek family approval. It’s a myth that your donation wishes will be blindly followed after your death. If the family blocks the donation for whatever reason, then it won’t go ahead.’
‘And would you ask families about donation, even if the deceased wasn’t on the ODR?’
‘Of course. The ODR is just a way of recording a person’s wishes. It’s not legally binding. Once we have the family’s blessing, then information about the patient is transmitted electronically to relevant hospitals. Then, the transplant surgeons can decide whether to accept the organs or not. Obviously, organs are not retrieved unless they are accepted for transplant.’
‘They’re never just retrieved and then offered?’
‘No. Bodies are not preserved. Once brain death is clinically confirmed, then the deceased may spend hours, or sometimes a day or two, on ventilation to support organ function before donation begins. Once the ventilator is switched off, then death naturally occurs, and retrieval begins.’
Shepherd took out his notepad. ‘And how long does that process usually take?’
‘From the point where the family agrees to donation up to the operation going ahead? Minimum of a few hours, maximum of one to two days. It’s all about preparing and co-ordinating the two surgical teams.’
‘And one body, one deceased person, can donate several organs?’
‘Yes. The organs will be transported to units around the country. Kidneys, heart, lungs, liver, small bowel, pancreas. Also, tissue. Eyes, heart valves, bone, skin, veins, tendons. The only complication is cornea transplant. The whole eye is retrieved, but only the cornea, the clear lens on the front of the eye, is transplanted. Not the iris or any other parts.’
‘Ms Scott,’ said Sawyer, still picking at the pastry. ‘We’re investigating a double murder in the Derbyshire area, and we’ve discovered that both victims received a transplant organ which originated at this hospital, last year. A heart and a liver.’
Amy’s eyes widened. She looked from Shepherd to Sawyer. ‘That is possible. We’ve coordinated hundreds of donations over the last eighteen months.’
Sawyer pushed the plate aside and leaned forward. ‘I have a question. The answer could prove to be extremely helpful to the investigation. Could you give us the details of the liver donor? I’d like to explore the possibility of connections between the—’
‘I couldn’t do that. I’m sorry. We operate on strict grounds of confidentiality. The families of the donor and recipient sometimes choose to maintain a relationship, but we’re not at liberty to make that public knowledge.’
Shepherd flicked through his notepad. ‘We know from the husband of one of the victims that the heart came from a Roy Tyler, aged forty-six. He was injured at a gym in Bole Hill, and brought here, in April last year.’
Amy shuffled in place, agitated. ‘I’m sorry, but…’ She lowered her voice. ‘I appreciate you’re doing a difficult job, but I can’t see how I can help.’
Sawyer smiled. ‘You can give us the details of Sam Palmer’s liver donor, Amy. We can get the medical records unsealed and released with a court order. But it’s messy and time-consuming. Surely you can see how your information might open up the enquiry?’
‘Yes, but I have to operate under a strict clinical code. And we would need to coordinate with hospital administration and the NHSBT authority.’ She got to her feet. Sawyer and Shepherd mirrored her. She looked over her shoulder, took out her pocket watch. ‘I’m so sorry, but I really have to get back to work. I hope I’ve been helpful.’ She shook their hands. ‘Look. I’ll speak to NHSBT and my managers here.’
Shepherd wrote down a number on his pad and handed the paper to Amy. ‘Thank you. Please give us a call as soon as you can. I’m sure you can appreciate the seriousness of—’
‘Of course! It was lovely to meet you both. Thank you.’ She turned, stumbling over a low chair, and hurried out of the café.
Sawyer caught Shepherd’s eye. He tilted his head slowly from side to side in assessment.
Shepherd shrugged. ‘She doesn’t have the authority. Makes sense.’
Sawyer sat, tore off a chunk of pastry and popped it into his mouth. ‘We’ll work around it. It would help if we could get the donation info confirmed, but let’s do the learning while we wait. Find out more about Roy Tyler. See if anything interesting pops up.’
‘Can we get Drummond to get DNA samples from Susan Bishop’s heart and Sam Palmer’s liver? Cross-reference?’
‘Probably, but that sounds like a lot of variables and legal hoops to jump through. If we can find a way to get the information from Amy, it will save a lot of time. And I’m interested in her in another way.’ Shepherd eyed him. ‘Not that. She wasn’t busy or pushed for time. I’m interested because she was absolutely terrified.’
24
‘Bodies, DI Sawyer.’
Keating had
his back turned, tapping away at his corner computer. He glanced over his shoulder.
‘Sir?’ Sawyer took a seat.
‘Too many of them. Two too many. What are your leads?’
‘Forensics are scraps. At least the two bodies give us more potential. I’m trying to establish a link between the victims. And they both had recent organ transplant operations, so we’re looking into possible angles there. I have a contact but we might need a court order.’
Keating pivoted his chair and faced Sawyer. ‘Any more?’
‘That’s it, sir. At the moment.’
Keating scowled and smoothed down his neat crop of white hair. ‘Means? Method? Motivation?’
‘We know he can afford to buy a knife, and he’s smart enough to steal a vehicle. Method? He subdues, incapacitates, delivers a single stab wound, which he cauterises. Death from haemorrhagic shock. He’s extremely meticulous, clean, no tracks. He does the killing in the vehicle then transports the body, wrapped in plastic, to somewhere away from CCTV or ANPR.’
‘Motivation? Anything in the presentation?’
Sawyer closed his eyes, looked over the bodies in his mind’s eye. ‘He cleans them, positions them so they’re covering their private areas.’
‘So he has some respect for the victims?’
‘Possibly.’
‘Why so clean and fastidious? Why is he cauterising the wounds? Why not multiple stabs? Is he stalking easy prey, or killing to make a wider point? Like Crawley.’
‘All of this should open up if we get more victims.’
Keating sat back. ‘So, when I meet with the Chief Constable tomorrow, I tell him we’re working hard on the case, but we need a few more murders to happen before we can catch the offender?’
‘No, sir. I’m confident that we’ll find something in the connection between Susan Bishop and Sam Palmer.’
Keating nodded. ‘Well, that’s a relief. Do let me know.’ He angled his head. ‘And how about yourself?’
Sawyer read his gaze: curious, cautious. ‘You mean post-Crawley? I’m fine. A few glitches, but otherwise okay.’
‘Glitches?’
‘Nothing to worry about.’
‘I trust the glitches aren’t compromising the investigation in any way?’
‘Absolutely not, sir.’
‘You could take a TRiM assessment. If you feel you need it.’
Sawyer shook his head.
They savoured a few seconds of silence. Keating opened a file folder. He took a chunky fountain pen and made a few notes on the outside. ‘Klein is out.’
‘Yes.’
‘Your father tried to stop it.’
‘I suppose he believes life should mean life. Part of his newfound sense of religious justice.’
Keating looked up. ‘A few months ago, you asked me for access to the old file, but you haven’t signed it out. Not officially, anyway.’
Sawyer broke eye contact and glanced out of the window. Iron-grey sky. A couple of pigeons, wheeling. He looked back. ‘As you said, sir, I’m concentrating on the here and now.’
Keating nodded. ‘Don’t overload yourself. Hand some more off to Shepherd. He’s capable. Walker is coming through, too.’ He opened the folder, slipped on a pair of thick-framed reading glasses. ‘I’m sure you’re making progress in the case, DI Sawyer.’ He looked up, over the top of his glasses. ‘But I would at least like a suspect sometime soon.’
Sawyer strode out into the main office. ‘Updates! Good news, please.’ He perched on the desk near the whiteboard. ‘Moran. How’s the basement bromance with Rhodes developing?’
Moran glared at him. ‘We’ve covered every inch of the relevant areas at the key times. No sign of the van anywhere.’
‘Any van? Anything similar?’ Moran shook his head. Sawyer nodded. ‘He would have used something different, anyway. Thanks for your efforts.’
Moran forced a smile, nodded towards Walker. ‘We didn’t need another body down there, either.’
‘Bit musky?’
Moran shrugged. ‘Not a smart use of resource.’
‘You weren’t finding anything with two people,’ said Sawyer. ‘We added a body. You didn’t find anything with three. Therefore, assuming you’ve done your job well, there’s nothing to find. That’s good information in itself. Look into recently stolen vans of a similar size.’ He turned to Shepherd. ‘How about Palmer’s car?’
‘Sally’s team swept the house and surrounding area,’ said Shepherd. ‘Checked his car. Nothing but a few blonde hairs. His girlfriend.’
‘How about Sam Palmer and Susan Bishop? Connections?’
Myers waved his pen. ‘Nothing, sir. There’s no evidence that they knew each other or ever crossed paths. DS Shepherd asked me to look into Susan’s heart donor, Roy Tyler. He had a record. Back in 1991, when he was twenty, he was a lorry driver. Sentenced to ten years for causing death by dangerous driving. Three people killed in a crash on the A53 near Brandside. Night-time, bad weather. He was released on licence in 1996.’ He checked his notes. ‘Looks like he went back to working as a driver for various firms, then retrained.’
Shepherd addressed the team. ‘We know that Susan Bishop received Tyler’s heart. We went to see the specialist nurse at Sheffield Northern General. She couldn’t confirm anything about Sam Palmer’s liver—’
‘But we’ll work round it,’ said Sawyer. ‘Maybe get a court order if we need to. The transplants might be a coincidence, and we still don’t know if there’s any connection, but it might open up the picture. The killer stabbed Susan through the heart and Palmer in the back. Both wounds penetrated the transplanted organs.’
Walker waved a hand. ‘Maybe it was easier to keep Sam Palmer quiet by stabbing him in the back. But Susan was different.’
Sawyer shook his head. ‘We know for sure that Susan’s heart and Sam’s liver came from Sheffield Hospital. And the nurse we spoke to wasn’t happy. Way too eager to get away.’
‘Look into the methods more?’ said Walker. ‘Why is he so clean and careful? Why the hands covering the genitals?’
‘Surgeon?’ said Moran. ‘Someone connected to surgery? Unfazed by bodies or death, but used to keeping things hygienic?’
Sawyer raised his eyebrows. ‘Fair shout. Moran, let’s get you some fresh air. Work with Walker. Find me all the names of the surgeons who perform transplant operations in relevant local hospitals. Focus on the ones who might have performed the Bishop and Palmer transplants, at Wythenshawe and Leeds. Any red flags, connections. Myers, find more on Tyler if you can. And look into deaths registered at Sheffield Northern General in the days leading up to Sam Palmer’s liver transplant. Get me some potential matches for his donor. His op was on April 11th. The nurse told us that they keep life support on, and the organs viable, for a couple of days maximum after the patient has died.’
Myers nodded. ‘So, deaths on the 8th, 9th and 10th.’
Sawyer headed into his office. ‘Perfect. We need some angles, new leads. Think lateral.’
He closed the door behind him and flopped into his chair. He took a breath and listened. Office bustle from the main room. Keating next door: speaking, pausing, speaking again. A phone conversation. Too quiet to discern detail.
He scrolled down his phone contact list and tapped the name. The call connected after a couple of rings.
‘This is Ainsworth. Can I help?’
‘I hope so, Professor.’
‘Jake? So good to hear from you. How’s the world of rural law enforcement?’
Sawyer snorted. ‘Busier than you might think.’
‘I’m working with your friend, Richard Jensen. The chap I met at the end of the Crawley case.’
Sawyer sat back in his chair and lifted his feet onto the desk. There was something soothing and paternal about Donald Ainsworth’s Scottish lilt. ‘You still at Strathclyde? I thought you said you were moving away from parapsychology.’
Ainsworth laughed. ‘The Persinger Unit is still a concern, but yes.
The scales have been lifted from my eyes. I’m focusing on psychology. My core discipline. Shifting away from the supernatural.’
‘Not if you’re working with Jensen. He’s quite an enigma.’
‘It’s a fine combination. The scientist and the sceptic. We’re working on a book about the history of my paranormal challenge here. Examining the methods of charlatans and mediums. Fascinating stuff. Richard wants to do a podcast. Now…’ Sawyer could hear him shuffling around, finding a seat. ‘How can I help?’
‘I thought you might be able to give me a fresh take on something. A current case. I have two murders. Both the work of the same killer, I’m certain. Each body has been stripped, cleaned and presented naked, wrapped in polythene. The victims’ hands have been positioned so they cover private areas: breasts in the case of the female victim, crotch area in the case of the male. Each has only one stab wound, which has been cauterised. Death in both cases was by haemorrhagic shock. Internal bleeding, unsustainably low blood pressure. No sexual assault, and we can’t find a scrap of forensic evidence anywhere.’
Ainsworth sighed. ‘I have no qualification in criminology, Jake. But, as you’re aware, I have done some work in psychopathology.’
‘What’s your initial feeling about what I’ve just told you? What comes to mind? Unfiltered.’
‘The lack of anger. The composure.’
Sawyer shifted his feet off the desk and sat forward. ‘You mean in the cleanliness?’
‘Yes. And the single stab wounds. It’s… efficient. There’s no agenda. The cauterisation and hygiene perhaps suggests someone with a surgical or medical connection?’
‘We’re looking into that.’
‘Or perhaps even butchery. There’s also the possibility that he may have a pathological need to keep the process sterile. Something obsessive that may not even connect directly to the method of murder.’
‘You mean like OCD?’
‘Perhaps. OCD is more complex than just wanting everything to be clean, though. If it’s not pathological, then perhaps this impulse might come from his work. Again, something medical or surgical seems most likely.’ Ainsworth paused. ‘But the thing that really leaps out at me is the hands covering the private areas. That doesn’t feel like compassion to me. It seems more specific, more acute.’
