by OMJ Ryan
‘Do you think he was waiting for you, Guv?’ asked Jones.
‘No. We checked the CCTV footage of the car park, which shows him parking up at the back of the building, then heading straight round to the front door. I was out of sight when he arrived, so he would have had no idea I was outside. It’s just pure luck that he happened to be walking out as I was walking back in.’
‘I’m sure he’d have enjoyed that, seeing you in the flesh,’ said Harris.
Phillips sighed heavily. ‘I even acknowledged the bastard as he came out of the door. How could I have been so fucking blind?’
‘Come on, Guv,’ implored Jones. ‘Any of us would have done the same. Until now, we had no idea what the guy looked like.’
In no mood to let herself off the hook just yet, Phillips continued. ‘Yeah, but the guy was a dead ringer for Peter Sutcliffe and I missed it.’
‘I’d suggest the beard’s a fake,’ said Harris. ‘Dressing up is all part of the fun for him.’
‘We could try the fancy-dress shops. See if anyone recognises him?’ Bov suggested.
‘It’ll take too long,’ replied Phillips. ‘And besides, it looked real, so it’s more likely to have come from a professional costume company. None of which exist in Manchester – I’ve already checked – so he probably bought it online.’
Jones leaned forward on the conference table. ‘What about the van? Anything new captured on our own CCTV?’
Phillips shook her head. ‘We’ve checked ANPR and CCTV footage from the surrounding roads but, like before, the plates are covered, and not long after he drives out of the gate, he disappears down a back road and we lose him. So once again, we’ve got nothing.’
‘Does Carter know about all of this?’ Jones asked.
‘Yeah. I briefed him last night. As you can imagine, he wasn’t happy.’
‘And Fox?’
‘He’s telling her as we speak.’
‘That’s why he gets paid the big bucks,’ said Jones.
Phillips let out a deep sigh. ‘I’m sorry to say it guys, but as Jonesy and Bov’s leads on the van sightings came to nothing last night, the killer is right: we really are no further forward with this case than we were five weeks ago.’
‘What about the fact it was a North East accent on the message? Anything in that?’ asked Bovalino.
‘I’d say it’s unlikely,’ said Harris. ‘Again, I think he’s playing with us, copying Wearside Jack in the words and delivery. The distortion he used is probably just a bit of a gimmick.’
Phillips cut back in. ‘The doc and I both believe our killer’s not finished yet, and this latest stunt certainly backs that theory. As the doc said, he’s enjoying the game. Our priority now has to be in trying to identify who he will copycat next.’
Harris nodded.
Phillips continued. ‘As we've discussed previously, based on the killer’s pattern so far, there is one serial killer who stands out above the rest, and who we believe could be next on his list of copycats.’ She pointed at the historical mugshot on the board. ‘Stephen Griffiths, also known as the Crossbow Cannibal.’
Harris jumped in. ‘There's no concrete evidence to suggest that Griffiths did actually eat any of his victims. He was given the nickname after only partial remains were recovered from his last two victims, and the body of his first was never found. His crimes were high profile and very unusual, even for a serial killer. To my mind, Griffiths’s crimes have all the elements that would appeal to our man. As his recent activity would suggest, he’s growing in confidence and the level of violence is escalating. Plus, so far, each method has been entirely different. Killing with a crossbow and leaving no body for us to find could be the natural next step for him, complicating the puzzle even further.’
‘Entwistle, how did you get on with tracing the make of crossbow Griffiths used?’ asked Phillips.
‘It was a Serpent full-size compound crossbow. I’ve checked with all the sporting-goods stores in the Greater Manchester area, but apparently they don’t make them anymore. Serpent went out of business after Griffiths was convicted. Nobody wanted them. That said, you can still buy them second-hand online, but tracing any historical purchases is virtually impossible.’
‘Of course it is,’ said Phillips flatly.
‘So what next, Guv?’ asked Jones.
‘I want the envelope he delivered sent over to forensics for a fingerprint and DNA check.’
‘I can do that,’ said Bovalino. ‘I’ll take it there myself.’
‘The wider team can stay on the van sightings. Jonesy, find out where people go to practice using a crossbow in Manchester, and check out any clubs that our man might have joined recently. It seems he’s not the shy retiring type, so there’s a good chance he may have stood out.’ Phillips turned to Entwistle. ‘I want you to trawl through Facebook, Instagram and any other social media sites. You’re looking for societies dedicated to crossbow users, and any members or comments that stand out. Start with the local ones first, then go wider if you have to. Speak to the administrators. Our guy is cocky, and confident we’ll never catch him. If the doc’s correct about him, then he’ll be compelled to brag or boast in some capacity.’
‘But be prepared – if he is boasting, it’ll likely be cryptic messaging,’ Harris added.
Phillips stood. ‘I’d better go and update Carter, see if he’s still in one piece. I don’t need to tell you, we’re well behind the prize on this one, guys. Whatever it takes, we need to stop him.’
‘Yes, Guv,’ said each of the men in unison as she left the room.
43
‘Who’s my gorgeous boy, hey? Who’s my gorgeous boy?’ Gabe repeated as he tossed Noah into the air, caught him again in his hands, then held him above his face.
Noah smiled and gurgled, looking down at his daddy.
The TV was on low volume in the background, but Gabe wasn’t watching it. Behind him, in the open-plan kitchen that annexed the family room, Jodie was busy cooking dinner. Friday was taco night, and the delicious aromas wafting from the stove were making his stomach rumble.
Placing Noah on the activity mat on the carpet, he sat back on the floor and leaned against the base of the sofa as Lola padded in and curled up next to him. The local news was starting, so he grabbed the remote and increased the volume. The lone news anchor stared out at him from a flimsy-looking news set, her expression grave as she began the bulletin.
‘Greater Manchester Police are once again appealing for witnesses who may have seen this vehicle, believed to be connected to a number of unlawful deaths in and around central Manchester.’ CCTV footage of the van flashed on screen.
Gabe smiled and stroked Lola’s back as the news anchor continued. ‘In a live press conference given yesterday afternoon, Chief Superintendent Harry Carter refused to comment on whether the driver of the vehicle was a suspect in the deaths, but instead stressed how important it was that they track down the owner.’
‘No shit, Sherlock,’ Gabe muttered under his breath.
Jodie appeared and perched on the arm of the sofa above him. ‘God, it’s terrifying,’ she said as the news continued.
Gabe craned his neck so he could see her. ‘What is?’
‘Living in a city with a monster on the loose.’
‘What monster? What are you talking about?’
‘Him!’ She pointed at the image of the van, which remained on screen. ‘The man driving round the city, dragging women into that van and murdering them. Any of us could be next.’
‘Don’t be so silly, Jodes. They don’t know for sure if the driver of the van is connected. And besides, it’s not just women that have been killed.’
‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better, is it?’ said Jodie. ‘What if he breaks in here one night when you’re out at work, or over at your dad’s?’
‘He’s not gonna break in here.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because the killer’s been picking up his victims in pub
s and clubs, or off the street,’ Gabe said firmly.
‘Says who?’
‘Er…I…I…’ Gabe stuttered. He realised he’d dropped his guard and said more than he should have. ‘I read it in the paper.’
Thankfully, Jodie wasn’t really listening, as usual. ‘Noah and I could be murdered in our beds and you’d know nothing about it.’
‘Oh, don’t start all this again,’ he mumbled under his breath. ‘I get enough guilt trips from my dad as it is.’
‘It’s true, Gabe. There’s a killer on the loose, stalking and killing young women in Manchester, and I’m scared. You should be too. What if he killed your wife and son? What if you came home late one night and found us both dead? I know your job’s important to you, and Bert’s not well, but surely your own family comes first. Me and Noah. You must see that?’
‘Will you please give it a rest? I’m sick of you going on at me all the time.’
‘No, I won’t give it a rest. This is important, Gabe.’
‘I’ve had enough of this,’ he said, scrambling to his feet.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Out!’
‘But dinner’s nearly ready.’
‘I’m not hungry!’ he shouted as he pulled on his shoes.
‘You can’t just leave. We’re talking.’
‘No. You’re talking. I’m being poked like a bear.’
The sound of his parents arguing caused Noah to start crying.
‘Ah God, that’s all I fucking need!’ Gabe growled, before heading out into the hallway.
‘Don’t you dare walk out!’ Jodie yelled after him.
He didn’t respond as he pulled on his coat and marched towards the front door.
‘If you leave now, you’d better not come back.’
He reached the door and yanked it open. Noah continued to cry in the lounge, louder now.
‘That’s right. Run away, like you always do, you pathetic piece of shit!’
He turned to face her, anger boiling in the pit of his stomach. ‘What did you say?’
‘You heard me. You’re pathetic.’
Gabe glared at her as a snarl formed on his lips.
‘Look at you. A pathetic, weak little man. Just like your pitiful excuse for a father.’
Gabe closed the door slowly and locked it in place. Rage burned in his gut. ‘I am nothing like my father,’ he said in a low voice, before rushing headlong at Jodie, arms outstretched.
44
Floss was waiting as Phillips opened the front door, and snaked around her legs as she stepped inside the house. ‘Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,’ she said, bending down to pick her up. It was then she noticed the padded envelope sat on the doormat, covered in the same frenzied handwriting as the one delivered to Ashton House the day before. Her adrenaline spiked as she stared at the small package. This wasn’t the first time an investigation had spilled into her home. Unconsciously, her eyes were drawn to the exact spot in her hallway where the very man she had been hunting in that case had tried to strangle her a couple of years ago; tried, but thankfully failed. That experience had taught her not to take any chances. Holding Floss in her arms, she retreated out of the house and hurried back to her car, where she jumped in and put Floss down on the passenger seat. Next, she called through to uniform Control, alerted them to her rank and situation, and demanded the nearest patrol unit be sent to her address urgently.
Five minutes later, she was relieved to see the distinctive blue and yellow markings on the patrol car as it turned down her street. Leaving Floss in the vehicle, she jumped out and waved them down. She didn’t recognise the two officers, but they knew her, explaining they’d seen the recent press conference and were familiar with the case. Radioing in their position, they immediately headed inside the house whilst Phillips waited on the street. She had learnt her lesson the last time, and until she knew the house was safe, she would not be going back in.
It wasn’t long before the two officers returned, strolling casually down the front path to her position on the pavement.
‘All clear, Ma’am,’ said the first officer.
‘Did you check every room?’ asked Phillips.
‘Yes, Ma’am.’
‘Upstairs, too?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about the garden?’
‘It looked clear from the kitchen,’ said the second officer.
‘Did you go outside, though? Actually into the garden?’
‘No. The back door was locked.’
Phillips handed over her keys. ‘It’s the orange one. I need you to check it all thoroughly.’
Once again, both officers headed back inside. While she waited, her mind flashed back to the battle with her attacker on that terrifying night, a chilling memory of how close she had come to becoming a victim herself.
After a few minutes, the officers returned.
‘All clear, Ma’am,’ said one.
‘We’ve even checked the shed,’ said the other.
Phillips breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks. I just needed to be sure.’
‘Not a problem, Ma’am. We’re in the area all night, so if you have any problems, let Control know and we’ll come straight back.’
‘I will. Thank you.’ Phillips headed back to her car to fetch Floss.
Despite their assurances, once inside, she conducted her own search, which included checking under the beds and inside the wardrobes. Even her large American-style fridge was given a thorough inspection. This guy really had her spooked.
Finally satisfied, she pulled on a pair of latex gloves and retrieved the package, which she carried into the kitchen. With care, she opened the seal and peered inside. Inside was another single pen drive. Placing the envelope back on the bench, she pulled out her phone and called Jones. When he answered, she wasted no time. ‘I’ve received another package. It looks like it’s from the same guy as before. I need you to meet me at the forensics lab as soon as you can.’
‘Of course, Guv. I’m on my way.’
Next, she called Senior CSI Andy Evans.
Forty minutes later, she stood in the GMP forensics lab with Jones, as Evans carefully opened the package and removed the pen drive, before inserting it into his laptop. Double-clicking the only file on the disk, it began to play automatically. She was not surprised to hear the same voice talking back to her, once again distorted with a North East accent.
‘Hello, Jane. You must be feeling real stupid by now. First you walk right past me at work, and now you’ve missed me at home. It wasn’t hard to find out where you live, by the way. Not great for someone in your position, I wouldn't have thought. And considering your reputation, I expected you’d be much closer to finding me than you are. If truth be told, Jane, I’m finding it all a little bit too easy at the moment. That’s why I’ve decided to give you a clue. Are you ready? Here goes: “The Angel of Death walks amongst your own kind, DCI Phillips. Like the good shepherd you are, follow the guiding star to find your salvation.” Good luck, Jane. It looks like you’re going to need it.’ The message ended.
‘So, he posted this through your letter box at home?’ asked Jones.
Phillips nodded.
‘How do you feel about that?’ said Evans.
‘Spooked, to say the least. I mean, how the hell does he know where I live?’
Jones remained silent, deep in thought, before he eventually spoke. ‘“The Angel of Death walks amongst your own kind…Like the good shepherd you are, follow the guiding star to find your salvation.” What the hell does that mean?’
‘Play it again,’ said Phillips.
Evans obliged, and for the next five minutes they listened to it on repeat.
‘The only thing I can think of is that, when he says, “The Angel of Death walks amongst your own kind”, he’s maybe telling us he’s a copper?’ Phillips ventured.
‘Surely not, Guv?’
‘It’s happened before. We know that better than most. I mean, it would ma
ke sense in many ways, and would explain how he knows so much about the locations of ANPR cameras in the city, not to mention how to avoid them. It would also explain how he got my address – from the staff records.’
‘True, but if he is a copper, why would he leave DNA on Szymańska and Marsh?’ said Jones. ‘He’d know we’d be able to trace it.’
‘And he’d also be aware that we don’t keep DNA records on file unless they’ve been used to secure a conviction,’ added Evans.
‘Well, if he is a copper, then there’s over seven thousand officers on the force,’ said Jones. ‘And even if we estimate that a third of those are women, then we’re still looking at the possibility of over four and half thousand suspects, Guv.’
‘I know that,’ said Phillips, focusing on Evans. ‘Andy, I was thinking. Do you know if we keep a record of coppers’ heights on file?’
‘I think so, yeah.’
‘And what about shoe size?’
‘Maybe. I assume all coppers are measured up when they start in uniform, so that information has to be stored somewhere.’
‘Well, we know from your footprint analysis that our guy wears a size seven boot, and is likely to stand between five foot seven and five foot nine. If we can check the height and shoe size of all the male officers on file against those measurements, that’s gotta narrow down the list of suspects, hasn’t it?’
‘Yeah, I think it might. I mean, I doubt there’s that many male coppers with such small feet on the force,’ said Evans.
‘Let’s start there, then. Jonesy, I want you, Bov and Entwistle to find the records and go through them first thing on Monday. And rope in PC Lawford, too. She’s good with this kind of stuff.’
‘Will do, Guv,’ said Jones. ‘Is there anything else you need tonight? Only I left my girls on their own, as Sarah’s visiting her mum for a few days. I need to get back before they decide to invite their mates over and smash through my booze cabinet.’
Phillips chuckled. ‘No. We’re good. You get yourself away.’
‘I’d better get this lot bagged and tagged,’ Evans said, and left the room.
