Chapter Nineteen – Georgia
When Trent picks me up, he doesn’t greet me with his usual smile. He seems rushed, less controlled than normal.
“You need to eat before we go,” I tell him.
He shakes his head.
“There’s no time.”
“At least, let me put it in a box for you to eat at the Yard.”
He nods his head but doesn’t speak. I put a mug of coffee in his hand.
“Drink.”
It always surprises me when he lets me boss him around. He’s so bossy himself, it’s hard to imagine him letting anyone boss him about, least of all me. He stands there in the doorway to my kitchen, drinking the coffee as I pack the box of food. I take longer than I need, just to give him time to finish his drink before he rushes us out the door.
Once we’re in the car I ask him about the case, “what’s happened?”
“We have a new murder case,” he says matter-of-factly.
He gives me a rundown of the key details from memory. I’ve seen that sort of shit before. It’s not nice. The helplessness you feel when you walk into a room washed in blood. As police officers the cases where our victims are alive, rescuable, those are the good ones. The ones where we can’t possibly save the victim, just all the victims that could come after that first one, those are the painful ones, the ones that make you hate the job.
The team are subdued in the briefing. Walker rubs his eyes with his hand. He’s tired and the day has barely started.
“This case is our top priority as of this moment,” he tells us seriously before briefing us on what he knows and giving out a list of jobs.
Lance Stone is charged with compiling a list of family members, friends, work colleagues for the team to interview. John is sent off with Ben Alvin to the Coroner’s office. Mark, Milton, Trent and I are off out to interview the victim’s neighbours.
We pair up, starting with the houses directly next to the Victim’s home. We’re not alone in our task. At least twenty uniformed officers are with us, going from house to house, sending us leads whenever they come across someone who seems to have something that might help us.
Trent and I start with the house attached Ms Dante’s. If anyone will have seen or heard something, they are our best bet. Trent raps his knuckles on the door before stepping back.
We brandish our badges.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Trent begins. “We would just like to ask you a few questions about your neighbour.”
“Is this to do with all that trouble last night?” the woman asks.
She lets us into her house. Looking around it’s clear that she is a mum. There are kid’s drawings all over the place; toys cluttering every surface.
“Did you hear a disturbance last night?” Trent returns her question with a question.
“No more than normal. I only asked because of all the police cars and stuff in the early hours. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?”
“No, thank you. No more than normal?” I ask. “Was Ms Dante a noisy neighbour?”
“She always had the music blaring. I’ve complained multiple times, but she didn’t listen. Eventually I just started looking for a new house. It keeps the kids awake, you see.”
“She had music playing last night?” I question.
“Yeah, it was insanely loud. Couldn’t hear myself think.”
“What time was that?” Trent pulls out a note pad.
“Couldn’t have been before three. My husband was angry. Wanted to go round and have words but I didn’t see the point. We’ve tried talking to her about it before.”
“When did the music stop?”
“Couldn’t have been long before the first police car arrived…” She looks off into the distance as she considers the question, “or we wouldn’t have still been awake. Maybe four?”
“You didn’t hear anything else?”
“No. Is Mischa alright, aside from the music, she’s a nice enough girl.”
“Regrettably, Ms Dante died in the early hours of this morning,” Trent says.
The woman raises a hand to her mouth in shock and lets out a little whimper.
“Have you spoken to or seen Ms Dante in the last few weeks?”
“No.” She frowns. “I’m not sure when I last saw her.”
I pass her my card.
“If you can think of anything else that might help our investigation, please don’t hesitate to call us.”
When we return to the yard, everyone huddles together, comparing the information we’ve collected. John tells us that some of the victim’s wounds are a week and a half old.
“How come she hasn’t been reported missing?” I ask.
It just doesn’t make sense. Surely, someone would think it odd that she’d disappeared?
They shrug their shoulders. Lance is the first to answer.
“She’s estranged from her parents.”
“But what about her work?”
“She does mostly temp work for an agency. It’s not unusual for their temps to just stop picking up the phone.”
“Friends? Someone must have noticed?”
I just can’t accept that she could disappear and no one would notice but the boys have no response, because that’s exactly what happened to Ms Dante. A week and a half ago she disappeared, and no one noticed.
The days that follow leave much to be desired. We have no real leads and we’re quickly exhausting the leads we do have. The team is despondent and every night we leave the yard feeling more dejected than the last. More than anything we fear that if we don’t find the perp, we could be looking at another victim.
Then three days later, our worst fears come true. We get a call in to the yard that dog walkers have found a body in Hyde Park.
Trent holds my hand as we approach the crime scene.
It’s unprofessional and I almost tell him off for it, except I appreciate the comfort he is offering. He stands slightly in front of me, in an attempt to block my view. I squeeze his hand.
“It’s okay, you know? I have seen a crime scene before.”
“I know.” He frowns. “I just...”
“Want to protect me,” I answer for him. “I get it.”
The crime scene is less gruelling than the first, although it’s possible that the park is only the dumping ground. CSI work tirelessly into the night while we return to the yard to try and identify the victim.
When we finally return home, I’m restless and feeling incredibly useless. I dye our hair dark again, just for something to do, anything to distract myself from the awfulness that is waiting for us back at the yard in the morning. He’s leaning against the sink letting me dry his hair with a towel.
“We will catch him,” he promises me sincerely.
“I know.” My brow puckers and I struggle to put what I feel into words. “I’m just scared how long it will take us.”
He takes my face in his hands and looks me straight in the eye.
“We’ll work diligently. We won’t rush, but we’ll be diligent, and we’ll save as many people as we can.”
No promise that we’ll save the next one. It’s a promise he’d be a fool to make. The next victim could already be dead for all we know.
He kisses my forehead softly.
“Let’s go to bed. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty – Walker
A week passes, and we don’t get much closer to finding the culprit, then early on Sunday morning I get another call.
This time I take Kentley with me. She insists and I haven’t got the energy to argue with her. If John and Stone find our arriving together unusual, for once they refrain from commenting. The victim looks much like the girls before her, same age, same frame, same hair colour… she could be the same girl being killed over and over again.
“She’s a replacement,” Kentley says what I’m thinking. “The victims are all replacements for the person he really wants to hurt.”
Al from CSI smiles at Georgia.
“Good to see you again, kid.”
“And you.”
He gives her a wink.
“You look better than last time I saw you.”
“That’s only because last time you saw me, I was covered in blood.”
“You did look pretty worse for wear.”
She laughs along with him. Was Al the CSI officer that worked her last kidnapping case?
“The stabbing wounds seem to match the previous two victims. I think our perp held on to the knife. Find the knife, you’ll find him.”
He spends a full half hour, running us through everything.
Everyone is waiting for us back at the yard. Together we run through the different leads we have and come up empty handed. Kentley is quiet, staring out the window.
“I think we need to release a statement… a warning of sorts. We know what sort of people he’s targeting. That’s our only real lead. If we can make sure brunette women in their twenties are paying attention to their surroundings, we might get lucky.”
“Or we could cause him to change his MO,” Alvin retorts.
She shrugs her shoulders.
“It’s possible. Either way, it’s pretty much a guarantee that’s he’s going to strike again. I don’t think it will be that easy for him to change his routine. He’s doing this for a reason. It’s premeditated but in his mind he isn’t killing the victims, he’s killing the same woman over and over again.”
Nodding my head slowly, I agree.
“We also need to work to create a profile for the killer. What sort of person would do this? What is likely to be his motivation? Someone get a hold of one of the criminal psychologists. Like Kentley says there’s a pattern, we need to work out what’s behind the pattern.”
There is a round of ‘yes sirs’ before everyone goes off in different directions. The desk girl from downstairs enters the briefing room, handing Kentley an envelope. John and I are stood not too far away from her talking about the case, but my eyes are on her.
She’s tired. Overworked. I wish I could give her half an hour to stop but there’s no time, not right now.
I watch as she opens the envelope and pulls a leaf of paper from within it, before dropping it to the ground. The horror in her eyes has me across the room in seconds, leaving John mid-sentence. I lean down to see what she’s dropped.
“Don’t touch it.”
I frown at her words.
“Someone call CSI!” I holler, because there on the ground, sat directly on top of the envelope it came from, is a photo of our victim tied up, gagged and crying. Written on it, in a rushed scrawl in red marker pen are the word:
Missed Me? I’ve Missed You.
Chapter Twenty-One – Georgia
They’re panicking. Literally panicking. Some idiot told my dad and now I’m trapped in Walker’s office with the two of them.
“It’s impossible,” my dad is saying. “He was shot.”
“Perhaps a copycat?” Trent suggests.
“The writing was identical.”
“He’s dead,” my dad retorts.
“Don’t be naïve.” It’s only been ten minutes, but it seems obvious enough to me. “I never saw his face… he was always masked. What if he wasn’t working alone? Yes, one guy was shot, but I can guarantee you that they’re going to tell you that the handwriting matches. I think he had an accomplice we didn’t know about.”
My dad is pacing the office and Trent isn’t much better as he sits in his chair tapping his foot on the floor angrily.
“I won’t go through that again,” Dad says weakly. “I think you should take some time off.”
“I’m not doing that.”
Trent frowns.
“I think you should listen to your father.”
“It’s not happening. I’m safer here than anywhere else.”
“You know as well as I do that that is not true!” My father rages.
“There’s no reason to believe that the accomplice is a police officer.”
“The good thing is we now know who he’s obsessed with,” Trent says, his tone irony dipped in malice.
They spend a good hour laying down the law. I’m given a short list of people I’m allowed to trust. Whenever possible, someone on that list is to accompany me at all times.
It’s a bit pointless because I know that Trent isn’t going to let me out of his sight at all now anyway, so why bother with a list.
The list might as well just read – Walker Trent.
In reality the list isn’t much longer; my dad, Trent, john and Mark Jackson. After they give me my list of rules, they call Mark and John into the office. They quickly agree to join my guard – as if I need it.
What I actually need is for us to catch the fucker who is killing these girls!
Trent makes the statement to the press and he looks ridiculously handsome doing it. We work tirelessly with the psychologists, writing up a profile for the killer. Knowing that I’m his obsession makes it a little easier.
My dad checks in on us frequently. I tell myself it’s because it’s a high-profile case but in reality, I know it’s because he’s worried about me. He tries to invite me home for dinner, but I refuse. My sister is home from Uni and the last thing I want to do is worry her and my mum.
A week passes without a new victim and every day I’m convinced that we’ll get a call, but the call doesn’t come. After work we go to the supermarket to pick something up for dinner. As we’re walking round, I turn to Walker.
“I’m going to go pick up a bottle of wine, you get the steaks. I’ll meet you at the till?”
He looks uncertain. As predicted, he’s barely let me out of his sight, mostly only so I can use the bathroom. Even at night he’s clung to me tighter. All I have to do is turn my head on my pillow and he sits up right, ready to fight an invisible enemy.
“We could just do it together.”
“But it’ll be quicker this way. Walker, I’m hungry,” I complain.
Part of me is being honest, I am hungry but the other half of me just wants two minutes to myself.
Eventually he concedes.
At first, I relish the moments of freedom. I don’t rush to the wine aisle, dawdling more than usual but then I get this sick to the gut feeling that I’m being watched.
I glance around myself, but nothing looks suspicious. I tell myself that I’m being silly, paranoid and carry on.
I breath slowly as I peruse the wines. I’m reading the label of a Rioja when I feel someone’s breath on my neck.
“Missed me?”
I turn around, only to see the back of a man, perhaps six-one, wearing a baseball cap, running down the aisle away from me.
I should give chase. That’s what I should do as a police officer. But I’m stock still, stood frozen, scared shitless and completely lost for what to do. I drop the bottle and pull out my phone, ringing Trent.
“He’s here.” That’s all I say.
“Where are you?” he asks urgently.
“The wine aisle.”
“Stay there, don’t hang up.”
I hear his feet pounding the ground even through the phone, he’s running to get to my side.
“Talk, say anything, just keep talking so I know you’re still there.”
Words desert me.
“Georgia!”
“Er… he was wearing a baseball cap, dark clothes… I think he was about six-one...”
“Good. Good girl, that’s it. Keep talking.”
That’s when I see him turn the corner and rush towards me. I crumple in his arms, my legs giving out. I cling to him as he makes several calls.
First, he calls John, arranging for the PCs to go out in the local area looking for anyone matching the description I’ve
just given him. Then he asks for the team to come here and interview the employees and anyone who might have seen something.
Then he’s dragging me through the store to the front. As soon as he spots an employee, he pulls out his badge.
“I want to see the manager.”
We’re taken out back, to a small office. Trent demands to see the CCTV. For over an hour we sit in that little room, watching the tapes, from the various cameras, so that we can pinpoint where he came from and where he went, and to see if we can get a clear view of his face.
Even as we watch the tapes, my hand sits in his. He holds it tightly, never once letting go, even when it’s impractical.
He chastises himself, “I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight.”
“I’m glad you did.” I know he doesn’t like it, but this might be the lead we need. “He’d never have been so brazen, if you hadn’t.”
I rest my head resting on his shoulder, lost in my own thoughts, ignoring everything around me. He was so close to me. Right there, close enough that I felt his breath on my neck. I don’t notice when my father joins us. I miss their entire conversation, except for the end.
“Take her home, Son,” my dad is saying. “I’ll deal with everything.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“You don’t need to thank me. You’re protecting my little girl.”
Chapter Twenty-Two – Walker
I’ve never been so scared in my life. The fear I felt when I received her call had damn near destroyed me. Panic had overtaken me. It wasn’t a feeling I was used to and I definitely didn’t like it, not for a second.
I’d feared the worst, an unending stream of possible scenarios running through my head.
It wasn’t until my eyes could see her and my hands touch her that my heart began to calm. I’d gone through the motions, doing all the things I knew I must, as if running through a checklist of jobs to do.
Not once did I let go of her hand.
Inescapable Fate: Hanleigh's London (The Fate Series Book 1) Page 11
