Lost Souls

by Chris Merritt

  Two, the effort taken in cleaning the bodies, and the manner in which it had been done, supported Lexi’s earlier theory that the killer cared about the victims. The way they’d been dressed and posed in the churches went well beyond a desire simply to remove forensic traces. It spoke, bizarrely, almost of love, or at least empathy. Coupled with the possible guilt or shame in their mode of attack, she wondered if this perpetrator didn’t want to do what he or she was doing. Or was reluctant to carry out the act, even if they believed in the aim. She came back once more to the idea that this killer was someone who knew what their victims had been through.

  Three, that level of cleanliness was something Lexi had observed previously in people who’d lived in situations of extreme squalor and deprivation, or been subject to abuse themselves. Tidying, cleaning, and disinfecting were all ways to restore order and gain a little power over surroundings that were unpredictable or unpleasant. She noted down those possibilities.

  Next, she moved on to the second Bible verse, Isaiah 49:15. Lexi looked it up on a Bible quote website. ‘Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you.’ It related to parental abandonment, to being forgotten by the very people who had brought you into the world. If ever there was a trauma to scar a child psychologically, she thought, it was that.

  Taken together with the verse highlighted at Donovan’s crime scene – ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs’ – it gave Lexi an even stronger sense that the killer was an adult who had endured terrible hardship and experiences as a child. Abandoned, abused, and selecting victims in whom they saw themselves; maybe trying to show others that those children shouldn’t be forgotten.

  The only problem with that theory was that Charley Mullins didn’t seem to have been subject to abuse at the time of her death. She hadn’t run away, she wasn’t living on the streets or using hard drugs, like Donovan. As far as Lexi could tell, the worst thing that’d happened to her was having underage sex which, as far as they knew, Donovan hadn’t done. So, what connected them? Why had they been chosen?

  She reviewed the basic facts. They were almost the same age, from the same part of London, and both had spent years in the care system. And they’d both attended Richmond Park Academy. That particular link made her think of Tim, again.

  Tim had texted last night to say that he’d met Lexi’s ‘detective friend’ and asked if she knew about their encounter. She’d debated how to reply, in the end going with a simple lie to protect the confidentiality of her work with Dan: No, what meeting? Tim had said he’d explain tonight; they’d scheduled dinner at his place.

  Lexi still felt uneasy about the overlap between the case and her private life, and wondered whether there was anything Dan hadn’t told her because of that. She had to tread super-carefully, especially given how sensitive Tim had been over her contact with Dan.

  It was totally crazy to imagine that Tim had anything to do with these awful crimes. And, yet, the more she found out about him, the more he fitted the profile of the killer she was sketching out now. Part of her wanted to postpone dinner, and not just because she needed more time to work on this for Dan.

  She paused to summarise what she had so far. In terms of perpetrator sex and age, she didn’t have a whole lot to go on. Statistically speaking, the killer was most likely to be male – though she couldn’t assume anything – and somewhere between their twenties and fifties. A person young enough to have the strength to subdue and strangle a healthy, unrestrained twelve- or thirteen-year-old, but old enough to have the patience to plan, clean and prepare their victims to display in death. That wasn’t anything Dan’s team couldn’t work out for themselves.

  Lexi believed that the killer’s background and motivation were closely linked. He or she was targeting children in care, but why? Most likely because the perpetrator themselves had been in care and probably suffered during the experience. The murders had a sense of re-enactment to them, a compulsion to repeat. But there was more than that.

  The empathy in their crimes suggested that, rather than punish these kids, it was almost as though the killer wanted to… protect them. Yes! Crazy as it sounded, that could be it. Lexi guessed that they wanted to stop such abuses happening to vulnerable children now, such that their crimes represented a kind of mercy killing. Maybe that was it: almost like euthanasia.

  Getting this down on paper, Lexi was starting to feel as though she was closer to understanding this offender, and to helping Dan and his team. But she needed to keep going. What else could she interpret from the perpetrator’s behaviour?

  They clearly believed in an afterlife, and maybe thought they were sending their victims there. Helping them, even… Implausible as that sounded, there was a logic to it. So, someone who met those criteria: grown up in care, abused or witnessed abuse – likely around age twelve or thirteen – and deeply religious. Perhaps the choice of church was significant too: both were Anglican churches. She typed a note on that.

  Then there was the victim choice. The killer had to have known both Donovan and Charley, or at least known of their existence and what they’d been through. Someone who’d come into contact with both of them, probably through work, or at minimum had access to information about them, perhaps through a file or database of some kind.

  This person also had access to a private place where they could take or lure their victims, and enough social skills or charm to convince a child – particularly a wary kid who’d already been let down by adults in his or her life – to accompany them there. Someone who could build trust and relationships, or at the very least manipulate someone else by offering them something they wanted. Again, to do that effectively, the killer would need to know enough about Donovan or Charley to know what they were interested in.

  Lexi noted all this down in bullet points that she’d relay to Dan after work today, when she’d reflected on it just a little longer to see if it needed editing before being presented. She felt some sense of progress, but no matter which way she looked at it, one possibility remained inescapable.

  Apart from the religious aspect, Tim fitted the profile.

  Forty-Seven

  ‘Sit down please, Dan.’

  Lockhart did as he was told. Opposite him, DSI Burrows signed some paperwork and shifted it to one side. She clasped her hands, rested her forearms on the desk and leant forwards.

  ‘I’ve just spoken to DSI Porter,’ she said. ‘He wants to go public with the arrest of a suspect in Op Paxford. Show that we’re taking action, reassure people. He also thinks it could produce further leads.’

  Lockhart recalled what had happened the last time Porter had done that, on a serial murder case last year. It hadn’t ended well.

  ‘Respectfully, ma’am, I’d prefer if we keep it quiet until we’ve conducted a few more inquiries and checked Cooper out as much as we can.’

  ‘I agree.’

  Lockhart was surprised. ‘Really?’

  ‘I’m not one for trial by the media.’ Burrows tilted her head, gave him a stern look. ‘But I do wonder whether we should have him in custody at all. Remind me again how we ended up here?’

  Lockhart knew he’d have to explain the less-than-ideal circumstances of Cooper’s arrest to his boss sooner or later. He cleared his throat.

  ‘Well, ma’am, obviously Cooper became a person of interest when he found Donovan’s body in the church.’

  ‘Quite legitimately, as I understand it, since he works there.’

  ‘Correct. Although he didn’t have an alibi for the previous night, when we believe Donovan was taken there, or for two nights earlier, when Dr Volz estimates Donovan was murdered.’

  ‘Fine. Go on.’

  ‘His DNA was on Donovan’s clothing and around the scene. He said he touched him because he didn’t realise he was dead.’

  ‘That’s believable, considering th
e unusual circumstances. And he knew the victim, is that right?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ replied Lockhart. ‘Not well, but he’d seen him at the church because his foster parents, Roger and Trish Hughes, took him there.’

  ‘OK. What else?’

  ‘Cooper has access to a grey van through his role as a Scout leader in Mortlake. A dark van was seen by a local resident just behind the church, late in the night before Donovan was discovered.’

  ‘Can we prove that it was the same van?’

  Lockhart shifted in his seat. ‘No, ma’am.’

  ‘Hm.’

  ‘But what brought him back onto our radar was an ANPR hit on the Scout van the night that Charley Mullins’s body was taken to the church in Putney. That’s why DS Smith and DC Khan went to speak to him this morning. When he refused to help, they arrested him.’

  Burrows narrowed her eyes. ‘He declined a voluntary interview?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘Which he has a right to do, of course. Not everyone wants to talk to us.’ She paused. ‘Are we sure it was Cooper driving the van?’

  ‘No,’ he conceded. ‘But Smith and Khan did find a drawing by Donovan which he was keeping in his office at the church,’ added Lockhart. ‘Of an angel, or something like that.’

  She sighed. ‘It’s certainly interesting. Suspicious, even. But it’s not conclusive.’

  ‘True… but after the ANPR hit, I felt that we needed to rule Cooper out of our investigation. I told them that if he didn’t want to assist voluntarily, we should arrest him to give us the power to get everything on record and carry out further investigations.’

  Burrows compressed her lips into a line and studied him.

  ‘We never take chances with suspects in a murder case,’ she said. ‘But I’d still have preferred something a bit more substantive. So, where are we with it this afternoon?’

  ‘We’re looking through the CCTV from Putney that matches up with Charley’s phone data, trying to find out who she met the night before she went missing. I’ve got two people down at the site where her phone was last seen, looking for it. And we’re in the process of obtaining a warrant to search Cooper’s residence.’

  She spread her hands flat on the desk. ‘It’s pretty thin, Dan. You must realise that. CPS won’t charge him with what you’ve got so far.’

  Lockhart knew she was right. They needed to find more, and the clock was ticking.

  ‘How long until you’ve got to let him go?’ she asked.

  He checked his watch, did the calculation. ‘Nineteen hours, ma’am.’

  ‘And he’s not been interviewed yet?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘OK, carry on then. I’d say there’s a lot to get through.’

  ‘Ma’am.’

  ‘Keep me updated on every development. Given how this is playing in the press, now, I don’t want any surprises.’

  ‘Understood.’

  ‘I hope so. DSI Porter may have been too busy to notice some of your errors in the past, but trust me, I won’t miss them.’ She held his gaze long enough for him to recognise the threat contained in her words.

  Lockhart blinked and squeezed his fists, tried not to rise to the challenge. ‘Ma’am.’

  She selected a document from her in-tray and placed it in front of her. Lockhart took that as his cue to leave. He stood.

  ‘Besides the evidence on Cooper being largely circumstantial,’ said Burrows, her head bent over the page, ‘you’re missing one other major thing.’

  ‘What’s that, ma’am?’ Lockhart asked, though he could already guess.

  She glanced up at him, eyebrows raised.

  ‘A motive.’

  Back in the main MIT office, Lockhart found Khan at his desk, staring at a laptop and chewing gum. He walked over to him.

  ‘All right, Mo?’

  ‘Boss.’ The DC leant back in his chair. ‘D’you see the message from Max?’

  ‘No, where?’

  Khan jerked his head across the room. ‘I put a note on your desk just now.’

  ‘Has she got the warrant signed?’ Smith was over at the local magistrate’s court, getting authorisation to access Cooper’s flat.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘She’s just waiting for a court session to finish, I think. No, it’s about the Salvation Army.’

  Lockhart had to acknowledge he’d let that lead slip since the discovery of their second victim. Charley had no connection to the church-slash-charity. Not that they knew of, at least.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘One of the guys who volunteers there – Marshall something – said he spoke to Donovan. Max has got the details.’

  ‘Marshall…’ Lockhart frowned. ‘Why does that name sound familiar?’

  A quiet voice cut in from behind them. It was Lucy Berry.

  ‘He’s the researcher who sent us the report on the missing children,’ she said.

  ‘Serious?’ Lockhart spun round to her. ‘Bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?’

  ‘And we know what you say about coincidences, boss,’ said Khan.

  ‘He called me first, I guess because he had my number, and I referred him to Max.’ Berry suddenly looked concerned. ‘Was that the right thing to do?’

  ‘Yeah, Luce, it was. I’ll get the full story off Max later.’ He turned back to Khan’s desk and nodded at the laptop screen. It displayed some low-quality CCTV footage from a wide-angle camera positioned inside an entrance. ‘What’ve you got here, Mo?’

  ‘OK. This is the footage from Pete’s. It’s the restaurant that Charley went to last Thursday evening. Here she is arriving.’ He shifted the bar back until the time stamp read 19:36 and clicked play. Lockhart watched as the door opened and a girl who looked like Charley walked in on her own, exchanged a few words with a young man at the counter, then moved past him and out of frame. Khan moved the recording on, adjusted it back slightly and showed him a second clip. ‘Then she leaves at 21:09, alone.’

  ‘Have we got a camera inside? On the tables, I mean?’ Lockhart felt a glimmer of hope rise, only to be snuffed out by Khan’s reply.

  ‘Nope. That’s the only one they’ve got, apparently.’

  ‘Bollocks.’ Lockhart stood, put his hands on his hips. ‘So, who do we reckon she meets?’

  Khan took the footage back to 19:21 and played a few seconds before pausing it. ‘Best guess is this guy.’

  Lockhart planted his hands on the desk and got closer to the screen. A figure in a large jacket and flat cap had entered, head down.

  ‘Do we get a decent look at his face?’

  ‘No.’ Khan advanced the clip until the man had disappeared from view. ‘He’s wearing a face mask when he comes in. And when he leaves about ten minutes after Charley, you can’t really see nothing of him.’

  Lockhart wasn’t going to be discouraged. ‘OK, Mo. This is nice work. We’ve got something here, at least. I want you to make up a six-pack of photos, including Cooper, and get down to Pete’s, soon as. Find anyone who was there last Thursday and show them these clips as well as the photos. Confirm that Charley had dinner with that guy. And see if they can pick Cooper out from the six-pack as the flat-cap man.’

  ‘Got it.’ Khan grabbed a pen and scribbled a few words on his pad. Then he stopped. ‘What if they don’t pick him out?’

  Lockhart knew what that would probably mean.

  That they had the wrong guy.

  Forty-Eight

  CKK, the Church Kid Killer. That’s what they were calling him. The media coverage of his angels was getting more intense by the day – especially after Charley – but he’d done his best to keep up with it. And he didn’t like what he’d read.

  Only some journalists and commentators were remotely close to understanding what this was about, noting that it was probably these children’s risky, unstable lives that had led to their deaths. The majority were expressing outrage and disgust towards him, using words like beast and monster to
describe him. They hadn’t got it at all.

  He couldn’t believe it. The power and complexity of what he was doing had been completely lost, and the press had just reduced his whole crusade to three words. Or, when they couldn’t even be bothered to write those words, to three letters. Seeing that, it was his turn to be outraged and disgusted.

  They’d made it all about him, calling him a serial killer, insane, unhinged, and worse. One tabloid paper had even compared him to Freddy Krueger, with an image of the horror movie villain for good measure. It was insulting. But he couldn’t blame the media. It was the police’s fault.

  Nowhere in the press coverage had he read about the prayer pose, the Bible verses, the way he’d taken care of Donovan and Charley as their spirits soared away from this world. All it said was that two murdered children had been found in churches. There was speculation as to the significance of that, but the nearest it came was the further insult of calling him a religious maniac or nutter. And he certainly wasn’t that.

  He could remember very clearly when faith had come into his life. It was after he’d been placed in ‘care’ with the man who lived on his own and read the Bible at home. The same man who gave him heroin, and would come into his room at night. This man had taken him to church every Sunday. And that was where he discovered the message.

  He recalled the first time he walked into the building. There was something about the still air, the high ceilings, the candlelight and the hushed tones that put him, for once, at ease. As the man guided him to a pew and sat him down, he no longer felt like he needed to run or fight. But the best was yet to come.

  He recalled the vicar in his long robes and white collar preaching in a deep, educated voice. The sort of voice that immediately gave you confidence that this person knew what they were talking about, that they were right. And his message was clear.