by OMJ Ryan
The area around them was cloaked in darkness, with a slight white hue from the falling snow. It was perfect. Just as he’d imagined. As she continued to fight with the door handle, he reached down into the door well and found what he was looking for.
‘Do you know what this is?’ he said, lifting it up so she could see it.
She turned to face him. ‘No,’ she whimpered, as tears streaked down her cheeks.
‘It’s a hammer. But not just any hammer, you understand,’ he said gleefully. ‘It’s a ball-peen hammer.’
She said nothing as she continued to cry.
He relished the sound of her breathing – rapid, and oozing with fear.
He leaned his body across her chest, which caused her to flinch and cry out. Stopping for a moment, he took a loud, audible sniff, and basked in her luxuriant scent once more before jiggling the handle until it the door popped open and cold air rushed into the cab. Still holding the hammer in his right hand, he slid back across to the driver’s seat. ‘Now you can get out.’
Wendy stared at him for moment, as if lost.
‘Get out, you fucking whore!’ he shouted.
Pushing the door open wide, she jumped down onto the rough ground into the snow and began running for her life. Exactly what he wanted her to do.
Opening the driver’s door, he jumped down and, gripping the hammer tightly in his right hand and a screwdriver in his left, set off after her.
She was surprisingly agile as she raced across the snow towards the lights of the main road just a few hundred yards up ahead, but he was taller and quicker, and soon he was right behind her, matching her step for step as the lights drew nearer. Lifting the hammer into the air, he held it there for a long moment, savouring her cries for mercy, before slamming it down with a sickening thud into the back of her skull.
31
Gabe parked the van up behind the dilapidated old out-house and switched off the engine. He sat in silence for a long moment, replaying the events of the evening in his mind. He felt exhilarated, but as the adrenaline began to fade, he sensed the onset of exhaustion. It was close to 2 a.m., and he really should be getting home, but he couldn’t resist going inside the house to see his father and share the details of his latest kill. Plus, he needed to clean himself up. A few minutes later, he walked through the filthy old kitchen, where he deposited his bag on the table, then strode into his father’s room. His father appeared to be asleep, the only sound in the small space the low hiss coming from the oxygen tubes inserted in his nose. But as Gabe approached the side of the bed, Bert’s eyes shot open.
‘You’ve decided to grace me with your presence, have you?’ he rasped, then began coughing. ‘I could die in here and you’d never know!’
As ever, his father knew exactly how to bring him crashing back down to earth. ‘Oh, shut up!’ Gabe sneered.
Bert’s eyes dropped slowly to Gabe’s coat sleeves, which were spattered with blood. ‘What’s that on your coat?’
‘Exactly what it looks like.’
‘Blood?’
‘Yes.’
‘Human blood?’
Gabe smiled wickedly, and nodded.
‘Why, boy?’
‘You know why. To hurt you like you hurt me.’
‘This has to stop, boy. Now.’
‘It stops when I say it stops,’ said Gabe.
Bert shook his head and tears welled in his eyes. ‘To think the good Lord took my Maggie and left me with you. A pitiful excuse of a man and a human being.’
‘Oh, don’t start with all that again. I’ve heard it a million times before.’
‘And you’ll never stop hearing it, will you?’ Bert coughed violently. ‘Because even when I’m dead, you’ll still hear my voice, reminding you what a total waste of life you are. A useless, pathetic child who grew up into an even more pathetic man. I didn’t think it was possible, but you finally exceeded my expectations.’
Gabe breathed heavily through his nose, his jaw clenching as he tried desperately to contain his rage. ‘Say what you want, you spiteful old bastard, but I’ll be the one laughing when this is done. When I reveal to the world that you, the great Detective Sonny, spawned a brutal killer, then sat and watched while he murdered, over and over again.’
‘Sat and watched? What am I supposed to do when you’ve locked me up in here, like a prisoner in my own home? No phone or contact with the outside world. I don’t even have a window, for God’s sake!’
‘Well, now you know how I felt as a kid, trapped in this god-forsaken shit hole in the middle of nowhere. No friends to play with nearby, no visitors ever allowed to come to the house. Just you, a drunken old man, bringing whores home to fuck in my mother’s bed, then beating the shit out of me because I had the audacity to cry myself to sleep.’
‘You were always bloody crying.’
‘I was a young boy whose mother had died, for Christ’s sake!’ yelled Gabe. ‘Why couldn’t you understand that? I needed love and compassion, not hatred and beatings.’
‘Love? How could I have loved you? You weren’t even mine!’
Gabe froze. ‘What did you say?’
Bert’s lip curled into a snarl. ‘You heard me.’
‘Say it again.’
Bert caused for a long moment before continuing. ‘I said that you, boy, are the bastard son of someone other fella. Your mother had an affair.’
‘That’s not true. It can’t be.’
‘It is.’
‘When?’
‘I’d guess about nine months before you were born, wouldn’t you?’ Bert said sarcastically.
‘You’re lying,’ said Gabe.
‘I wish I was. I only found out after she died and I realised I was stuck with you, someone else’s pitiful excuse for a son. I did my best, but every time I looked at you, all I saw was betrayal from the woman I loved.’
‘I don’t understand. If you knew she had an affair, how come you’ve spent my whole life telling me what a saint she was? That you wished God had taken me and not her.’
Bert coughed. ‘I meant it. I do wish she was still here, because I could forgive an affair. It happened a lot with coppers and their wives back in the day. Especially with detectives and the hours we worked. I wasn’t such a saint myself, to be fair, but then she died and I was stuck on my own with you.’
He stared at Bert in silence, hatred clawing at his throat.
‘Well now you finally know. You boy, are a dirty, illegitimate, unwanted, unloved, useless little bastard.’
Gabe’s chest heaved as rage threatened to overwhelm him. All he wanted to do was to strangle the old man right here, right now. But he had a job to finish. A series of events that would deliver his ultimate revenge and hurt his father far beyond physical pain.
‘Fuck you, old man,’ he growled, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
The heavy door connected with the ancient timber frame, the vibrations disturbing the room. A thick cloud of dust rose into the acrid air. The hum of thousands of flies buzzing echoed around the room, their bodies flickering in the low light like dark embers above a raging fire. The television placed on the cabinet at the end of the bed blared at full volume, playing nothing in particular. Oxygen tanks hissed as they pumped air into redundant tubes fixed into the decaying nostrils of what remained of the corpse laid out flat on the bed. The eyeballs had long since been devoured by the maggots that now crawled from the eye sockets into the fleshless, open mouth. In a matter of weeks, nothing would remain of the old man but a twisted, rotting skeleton.
32
9.33 a.m. Tuesday, March 9th
Phillips stared down at the frozen body of the pretty young black woman, partially covered by the blood-stained snow that surrounded it. Her coat had been pulled open, her torso and breasts exposed to the elements. The killer had struck again sometime overnight and, judging by the mutilation of the body, Harris’s theory – that he was growing more violent with each murder – was confirmed. Th
is time, judging by the twin trail of footprints leading up to this point, he had chased her down, then killed her where she lay in the snow.
Senior CSI Andy Evans was already on scene with his team. Their white tent had been in place for almost an hour now. ‘Not a morning I’d choose to be outside,’ he said as one of his assistants crouched and took close-up photos of the body. ‘At least it’s stopped snowing at last,’ he added.
Jones blew his lips. ‘Jesus, Guv. This guy is out of control.’
Phillips nodded.
‘Look lively,’ said Bovalino. ‘Here comes the doc.’
Phillip and Jones followed his line of sight.
Dr Harris was making her way across the snowy ground. ‘He’s struck again, I believe?’ she said as she reached the police cordon a few feet away from them.
Phillips stepped out of the tent and moved towards her, tapping her own white forensic suit. ‘You’ll need to put on one of these if you want to see inside the tent.’
‘Thanks, but I think I’m good out here, to be honest. I’m not great with blood.’
‘Based on the footprints, SOCO think she was chased across the field, hit on the back of the head, then stabbed repeatedly,’ said Phillips.
‘All the hallmarks of Peter Sutcliffe,’ Harris said.
‘That’s what we were thinking. So, you were right about him getting more violent with each murder.’
‘You sound surprised, Chief Inspector?’
‘Perhaps I am. Just a little bit.’
‘Believe me, I really wish I wasn’t,’ said Harris. ‘Any ideas who she is?’
‘Photo ID around her neck says her name’s Wendy Marsh,’ Phillips replied. ‘Worked at the Marlow Hotel in the city centre. Entwistle is gathering her full details as we speak.’
Harris paused and looked around. ‘What is this place?’
‘Hough End playing fields. Last used last night by a five-a-side football league, until the snow came down heavy and they had to call off the games. The caretaker was the last to leave, at nine, and reckons everything was in order when he closed up for the night.’
‘Any ideas around time of death?’
‘Too early to say. We’ll need the post mortem for that, but looking at the frozen state of the body, she must have been out here for most of the night,’ said Phillips.
‘Who found her?’
‘The caretaker. He’s in a right state. Poor bugger must be knocking on eighty years old.’
‘Well, I think it’s safe to rule him out, in that case,’ Harris ventured. ‘Whoever did this is most likely fit and athletic.’
At that moment, Jones joined them. ‘Morning, Doc,’ he said, nodding to Harris before continuing. ‘Guv, Entwistle has been on. He’s found the girl’s address. Apparently she’s local, 42 Kenside Street, Moss Side. Lives with her parents. Do you want me and Bov to go and break the news?’
‘No. I’ll do it. You and Bov speak to the neighbours round here, see if anyone saw or heard anything.’
‘Sure thing.’
‘And find out where Mark Holloway was last night,’ said Phillips.
‘The caretaker from Cedar Pines?’
‘Yeah. He’s big into five-a-side football. Find out if his team ever played here. We know our guy loves to plan his kills, so he must be familiar with this place and the fact it would be empty at the time he brought her here. And tell Entwistle to speak to the Marlow Hotel, find out what time Marsh finished work, check their CCTV as well as any cameras in the area. See if we can find out how she ended up out here with the killer.’
Jones nodded and headed back into the tent to get his partner.
One of the SOCO team approached, holding a large digital camera. ‘Excuse me, Ma’am.’
Phillips turned to face her. ‘What have you got?’
‘I specialise in tyre track analysis.’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, I’ll need to do a final check at the lab, but I’m almost certain the tyre tracks here are a match for the ones we found in Dunham Massey, the body fire, and the building site.’
Jones emerged from the tent alongside Bovalino, and they began removing their overalls.
‘Looks like he used the same van as all the others, Jonesy,’ said Phillips. ‘Tell Entwistle to check ANPR as well. We need to find that bloody van.’
‘You got it, Guv,’ said Jones.
Bov nodded.
Phillips turned back to Harris. ‘I don’t suppose you want to come with me to see Wendy’s parents?’
Harris smiled weakly. ‘Er, no. I don’t think I’d be any help in that kind of situation.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Phillips as she unzipped her forensic suit. ‘Well, in that case, I’ll see you back at the office this afternoon.’
‘Great,’ said Harris. She glanced one last time at the tent before turning and trudging off through the snow towards her car.
33
It was just after 1 p.m. when Phillips walked back into MCU. Entwistle was at his desk, his head buried in his laptop. Harris sat at the spare desk next to him, working away.
As Phillips approached, Entwistle looked up. ‘How did it go with the parents?’
Phillips dropped into Jones’s empty chair. ‘Bloody awful.’
Harris offered a sympathetic smile. ‘I really don’t know how you can deliver such awful news to someone.’
‘I’d like to say it gets easier the more times you do it, but it doesn’t,’ said Phillips with a sigh. ‘It was just as bad today as it was my very first time. But it’s part of the job, and all you can do is explain the situation as simply and as kindly as possible.’
Harris shook her head. ‘I couldn’t do it.’
Phillips said nothing for a moment as her mind flashed back to Wendy Marsh’s parents’ faces as she broke the news that their youngest daughter was dead, murdered overnight. She closed her eyes and tried to bury the awful image.
‘You ok, Guv?’ asked Entwistle.
Phillips opened her eyes and offered a faint smile. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Anything from CCTV, yet?’
‘Yeah,’ he tapped the screen. ‘I’ve found video of her getting into a Mark II transit van.’
Phillips’s eyes widened. She jumped up from the chair and moved to where she could see over his shoulder. Harris craned her neck to get a look too.
Entwistle hit the keyboard and the silent video began to play.
They watched as Marsh appeared from under the camera, walking along the snowy pavement towards a bus shelter, a bag over her shoulder. Reaching it, she sat down, then waited. A few minutes later, the van appeared and stopped in the road in front of her.
‘The plate’s been covered again, Guv.’
After a brief exchange, Marsh got up and climbed into the van, which then moved off in the direction of Mancunian Way before turning right and disappearing from shot.
‘Tell me you have ANPR footage of where the van went next,’ said Phillips.
‘I do.’ Switching windows, he pulled up footage from a number of different ANPR cameras and hit play. ‘He drives up onto the Mancunian Way, but not for long, pulling off at the next junction for Hulme. He follows the underpass, then takes a left onto the Parkway heading towards Moss Side—’
‘Which is where Marsh lived,’ Phillips cut in.
‘Yeah, but he drives right past the junction for Kenside Street, at which point he begins to speed up.’ Entwistle switched to another ANPR feed, which faced the oncoming traffic. ‘We pick him up here as he passes Hulme Grammar School.’
‘Pause it, there,’ said Phillips.
Entwistle obliged, and a frozen image of the van, viewed from the front, filled the screen.
Squinting, Phillips leaned closer to the laptop. ‘The windscreen looks almost reflective.’
‘Yeah. It must be some kind of coating or film that’s been applied that somehow reflects light back at the camera. I’m guessing he’s done that so we can’t see into the cab.’
‘Clever bugge
r. He knows that some of the cameras can capture the faces of drivers.’
‘He’s certainly meticulous,’ said Harris.
Entwistle continued to narrate the video. ‘Finally, he turns right at Mauldeth Road West, towards the playing fields, at which point we lose him and he kills her.’
‘What about when he leaves afterwards?’ asked Phillips.
‘No sign of him. He must have taken the back roads.’
‘So, say he does know about the cameras, why drive through the city centre and then along the Parkway?’ Phillips said. ‘CCTV and ANPR are all over those routes. Why not use the back roads all night?’
‘Because he wanted you to see him,’ Harris interjected. ‘He’s showing you how good he is. That he knows all your tricks. That you use cameras to track suspects, and he knows how to bypass them and beat you. It’s classic cat and mouse.’
Phillips’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you saying this is just a game to him?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid it is. But then, life is a game to people in all walks of life. I’m sure you’ll have heard the phrase “play the game” during your time on the force. It refers to understanding the politics of business and using it to your advantage. Well, it’s the same in his world. His goal is to outsmart you, and his victims, for as long as possible. But for people with psychopathic tendencies, there’s no fun in being smarter than the next man and not being able to tell anyone about it. Being blatant like this is his way of boasting about how clever he is. Then, to rub salt into the wounds, he disappears into the back roads because he knows how to disappear without trace. He’s reminding you he’s one step ahead of you.’
‘He certainly is at the minute,’ replied Phillips. ‘So, why did Wendy get in the van with him? Talking to her parents, they said she was a street-smart girl who knew the risks of being out alone at night.’
‘If that’s true, then we can probably assume she knew him,’ said Harris.
