Cold Heart: Absolutely gripping serial-killer fiction

Home > Other > Cold Heart: Absolutely gripping serial-killer fiction > Page 5
Cold Heart: Absolutely gripping serial-killer fiction Page 5

by Stephen Edger


  ‘Wondered when you’d make an appearance,’ he grizzled, opening the door wider for them to enter and following them into the living room where they found Val glued to the television screen. It took a moment before she realised anyone had entered the room, but as she looked up and recognised Kate, she tensed.

  ‘You’ve found her?’ Val said, clutching the arms of the chair as if anticipating the blow she was about to receive.

  Kate glanced at the screen which was showing the BBC 24-hour news channel and then back at Val, whose eyes looked swollen and tired beneath a layer of heavy makeup. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘It’s been all over the news that there were police at her school last night. The reporter said there were forensic specialists going in and out of the old sports hall. It’s about my Daisy, isn’t it?’

  Kate gave her what she hoped was an assured look. ‘Right now, my colleagues are processing the scene to determine exactly what happened.’

  ‘W-w-what does that mean? Is she dead?’

  At times like this, Kate knew it was better not to speculate and just to stick to the facts. ‘The truth is: we don’t know. I know you want answers, but at this time I know as much as you do.’

  ‘What you doing here, then?’ Barry growled as he joined them, a freshly lit cigarette gripped tightly between his fingers.

  Kate was about to answer, when Val suddenly rose from her chair. ‘I’m sure she’s still alive,’ she said, pressing a hand to her wrinkled chest. ‘I feel it in here. My little girl is still out there somewhere.’

  Kate respected Val’s need to stay positive. She paused to summon the courage to say the next part. ‘There is something I need to ask you for. In order to determine whether Daisy is connected to the scene at the school, we need a sample of her DNA. This can be anything from a hairbrush, to a toothbrush or a hat she wore. Is there anything you feel comfortable with me collecting this morning to help our enquiries?’

  Barry was about to speak, when Val tore from the room. The clump-clump of her footsteps could be heard on the stairs before she quickly returned, thrusting a hairbrush towards Kate. ‘This is hers. You can take it.’

  Kate thanked her and deposited it in the evidence bag Laura was holding. ‘I promise you, Mrs Emerson, I will be in touch as soon as I have more news.’

  Barry showed them to the door, and when they were back in the cool air, Kate said, ‘I need you to get that back to SSD as soon as you can. Take the car, and then meet me at St Bartholomew’s.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I need to clear my head, to get things into perspective. The walk and fresh air will do me good. Tell SSD to process that sample ASAP and compare it to what was generated last night. I want to be called the second they have anything.’

  9

  Hill Lane forms the western perimeter of Southampton Common, stretching the entire length, and is the link road between Lordswood and the centre of the city. St Bartholomew’s Secondary School and College sits almost halfway along the road, forming a kind of fulcrum, with residential streets surrounding the area of the school grounds.

  The sleet continued to threaten as Kate made her way along the outer perimeter, set up last night several yards away from the school to keep the hungry journalists at bay. One or two called her name as she ducked under the cordon, but she avoided eye contact. The staff entrance to the premises – an electric gate, wide enough for cars to pass through and usually electronically operated by Mrs Fletcher, the administration assistant – was open, guarded by a second officer in a high-visibility jacket, who nodded as he saw Kate arrive. She handed him her identification as he signed her in and allowed her through. Although the school building looked less creepy in the daylight, there was still something intimidating about the way it stretched across the landscape, concealing the horizon. The staff car park was full of police and SSD technician vehicles.

  Making her way through the corridors, she wasn’t surprised to find a third officer stationed at the door, leading out to the hall. She waved her badge as she passed, and once again stepped out into the bitter chill; the activity out here was far busier and noisier as the scene-of crime-officers went about their duties. Although the hive of activity was focused on the white tent leading into the sports hall, she also spotted men and women in white overalls who were now searching the outer perimeter of the old building, looking for trace evidence that may have been dropped by the killer or victim. Approaching the tent, Kate asked to speak to the SSD lead, who was radioed and met her at the tent moments later.

  ‘Morning, Steve,’ Kate offered. ‘Been here long?’

  DI Steve Hardy stretched his arms over his head, and yawned behind the mask covering his mouth and nose. ‘We were here until just after midnight, and then reconvened at seven.’

  In Kate’s time in Southampton, she’d never met a more thorough and determined Crime Scene Investigator. He knew his stuff and she was delighted to have him directing operations here.

  ‘If you come with me,’ he continued, ‘I’ll talk you through what we know.’

  Quickly changing into fresh coveralls, Kate followed him through the complex entrance, noticing the doors to both changing rooms were now open, with camera flashes reflecting off the walls. ‘Anything of interest in there?’

  ‘Not so far,’ he replied, holding the door to the hall open for her, and then leading the way across the floor to the gymnasium. Hovering at the door, he began to point at areas of the room. ‘We believe the victim was already dead before the dissection began. Although the blood loss is considerable, given what we believe occurred and based on Dr Temple’s examination of the foot, it is likely that the victim expired late on Wednesday or early Thursday, and that the mutilation was completed on Thursday night or early Friday morning. We believe he rested the body at the far side, as that’s where we identified the largest concentration of blood, and where the circular saw would have caused the spray on the walls. The standard lamp is not battery-powered, which means your suspect had power in this room when he undertook this activity.’

  Kate’s eyes widened. ‘He definitely had electricity in here?’

  Hardy nodded. ‘The lamp was plugged in and the plug switch was on. The blood spatter on the bulb is singed and suggests the glass was hot when the spray landed.’

  ‘But the electricity was off when we arrived.’

  Hardy nodded. ‘One of my team is examining the cut-off point as we speak. We already have the comparison prints of the caretaker, so we’ll see if we can locate a second set, but whoever did this knew how to switch the power back on, and remembered to turn it off before leaving.’

  ‘So why use the lamp and not the overheads?’

  ‘Neither the caretaker, nor head teacher recognise the lamp, suggesting the suspect brought it with him, but it’s also worth bearing in mind that the lighting in this building is all on the same circuit. So, if he’d wanted the lights on in this room, he’d have had the lights on in the rest of the complex—’

  ‘And that would draw unnecessary attention to his presence,’ Kate concluded.

  ‘Exactly. With the lamp on, and this door closed, there is only minimal light that escapes beneath the frame of the door, and only somebody physically inside the hall would notice it.’

  ‘If he had power then, it’s possible the saw he used wasn’t battery-powered. I need to report that back to Dr Temple and my team so they don’t narrow the search for it. Anything else you can tell me?’

  He nodded, and pointed at a cardboard box off to the left. ‘We also discovered this box of cleaning products. There’s bleach, a brush, scrubbing sponge and a bunch more of the air fresheners that were stapled to this door. We’ve taken those down and they’re back at the lab and being examined. So far, they just look like the sort of car freshener you could purchase at any local petrol station, but we’ll see if we can narrow down stockists for your team to contact. We believe the killer brought this box with him, as it was over near the la
mp, and might have blocked his view of the foot.’

  ‘He was going to clean up?’

  ‘It would appear so.’

  ‘But he didn’t.’

  Hardy shook his head. ‘There is spatter on the cardboard, bleach bottle and brush, suggesting they were all inside the room during the cutting, but for some reason he never got around to using them.’

  ‘You think someone disturbed him?’

  ‘That would be my assessment.’

  ‘So maybe the foot wasn’t left here on purpose.’

  ‘That’s our working theory. We think maybe he left to dispose of the body parts, missed the foot, and planned to return and tidy up his mess, but for whatever reason he either didn’t make it back or couldn’t get back in.’

  Kate thanked Hardy and made her way to the tent, her mind whirring with ideas as she disposed of the coveralls.

  ‘There’s a Mrs Kilpatrick in her office inside the school,’ the officer in the tent advised, as Kate was leaving. ‘She’s asked to speak to you urgently.’

  Kate thanked him for the message, hurried across the playground and re-entered the school building. Mrs Kilpatrick was unlocking her office door as Kate arrived in the corridor. ‘Mrs Kilpatrick,’ Kate called out. ‘How can I be of assistance?’

  Mrs Kilpatrick didn’t respond but ushered Kate into her office. ‘I’m sorry to call you away, but I thought you should know that Mr Watkins is here.’

  Kate recognised the name, but couldn’t place why.

  ‘Our groundsman,’ Mrs Kilpatrick confirmed. ‘He was arriving at the same time as I was, so I verified his identity with the officer at the gate. He said it was okay for us to be here, so long as we stayed clear of the sports hall area. I remembered you saying last night that you wanted to speak with him, so I asked him to wait in one of the classrooms down the hall.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Kate said. ‘Incidentally, what are you doing here on a Saturday?’

  ‘I’m often here on a Saturday. Today I have a meeting with one of the school governors to discuss fundraising. But I also thought you or your team may need me on site to answer any other questions.’

  ‘You’re okay to be here,’ Kate confirmed, ‘but you must not leave the confines of the main building. Is that understood?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Out of curiosity, do you know how long your team will be on site? I mean, do we need to think about closing the school for the immediate future?’

  Kate wanted to say yes, but knew it wouldn’t be as easy to order the school be closed until the crime scene had been fully processed. That was a conversation she would need to have with the supe at the earliest opportunity. ‘I’ll let you know.’

  ‘The thing is,’ Mrs Kilpatrick pressed, ‘we’ll have to notify parents, who may need to make arrangements for their kids for any days we’re closed, and—’

  ‘I’ll let you know,’ Kate repeated, as gently as she could, understanding the implications of such a decision, but not prepared to make promises she couldn’t keep. ‘Which classroom did you say the groundsman is in?’

  ‘Before you speak to him,’ Mrs Kilpatrick paused and looked off, as if searching for the right words, ‘there’s something you need to understand. Neil is… how can I put it…? Neil is a wonderful gardener – don’t get me wrong – and I’m proud to have him working here, but… Neil is someone with whom you need to tread carefully.’

  Kate’s interest piqued. ‘In what way, sorry?’

  ‘He’s a great guy, and he does an incredible job with our gardens here, but… he can struggle with communication sometimes; use the wrong word or his behaviour can come across as immature for a man of his age. He’s perfectly harmless, but I wouldn’t want you to misinterpret his behaviour.’

  ‘Are you saying he has a disability?’

  Mrs Kilpatrick screwed up her face. ‘Not exactly, but… you’ll see what I mean when you meet him. He can be wary of strangers, so don’t be surprised if he seems withdrawn; it’s nothing personal. He knows me, so I’ll introduce you, so he understands you’re not a threat. He’s vulnerable, and we, at the school feel very protective of him.’

  ‘Protective from what?’

  Mrs Kilpatrick rolled her eyes. ‘Adolescent children can be quite cruel. We’ve had incidents in the past of a couple of boys taking advantage of him.’

  ‘Advantage?’

  ‘Oh, I really shouldn’t be telling you this, as it’ll give you the wrong idea about him. A couple of years ago, two of the Year Eleven boys duped him into buying alcohol for them. They told him they were going to a party and really wanted him to come along because he was so cool, or something; anyway they stipulated that they could only get him into the party if he bought a case of beer for them, and for whatever reason he went along with it and bought the booze.’ She sighed at the memory. ‘The boys’ parents complained to the school when their children were ill over the weekend, and we had to investigate what had happened.’

  ‘You allowed him to keep his job, even though it’s illegal to buy alcohol for under eighteens?’

  Mrs Kilpatrick nodded vigorously. ‘I know, I know, but the two boys came clean and admitted what they had done. He was given a written warning and we’ve subsequently made efforts to keep him away from the children.’

  ‘How do you do that?’

  ‘During the week, he doesn’t arrive until the children are in lessons, and is gone before they finish for the day. He works Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. I’ve made him sound horrid, haven’t I? I’m sorry, I just didn’t want you to jump to the wrong conclusions.’

  ‘He was here Thursday and Friday this week?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘Then at the very least he may have seen or heard something that could prove beneficial. Can you take me to him?’

  Mrs Kilpatrick frowned, before nodding, and slowly standing.

  10

  Neil Watkins was wearing a blue and green woollen lumberjack coat, a fur hat with the ear flaps pulled down, and had squashed himself into one of the Year Seven children’s chairs at the back of the classroom. He waved as Kate and the head teacher entered the room.

  When he spoke, there was a softness to his tone; he almost sang the words. ‘Hi, Mrs Kilpatrick,’ he gushed. ‘How are you today?’

  Kate remained at the door, watching as Mrs Kilpatrick smiled and walked purposefully towards Watkins, keeping her hands by her sides in a non-threatening manner. ‘I’m very well, Neil. And, how are you?’

  ‘Cold.’ He suddenly scowled, curling his lips down to show his disapproval.

  ‘Yes, it is rather chilly this morning, isn’t it?’ Mrs Kilpatrick continued, perching on the table nearest him, but keeping her voice bright and alert. ‘I see you wrapped up warm, though.’

  He rested a hand on the fur hat. ‘This is my hat. Do you like it? My mum got it for me for Christmas. It’s so warm. Do you want to wear it?’ He made to yank the hat from his head.

  ‘That’s very kind, but there’s no need,’ Mrs Kilpatrick replied, her smile widening. ‘I’m okay for now. You keep the hat.’

  He lowered his hand. ‘It keeps my head and ears warm,’ he said proudly.

  Mrs Kilpatrick waved Kate over. ‘Neil, can I introduce you to a friend of mine? This is Detective Matthews. Do you know what a detective is?’

  Neil looked warily at Kate. ‘Like Sherlock Holmes?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Mrs Kilpatrick answered. ‘Like Sherlock Holmes. You like those detective stories, don’t you, Neil?’

  His eyes returned to the head teacher. ‘Yeah, he’s so smart. He solves all sorts of puzzles. I could be a detective. I’m smart too.’

  ‘Detective Matthews would like to ask you a few questions. Would that be okay, Neil?’

  He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the teacher.

  Kate attempted to mirror Mrs Kilpatrick’s reassuring approach. ‘Hi, Neil, do you mind if I sit down too?’

  ‘Free country,’ he replied, the s
mile now gone.

  Mrs Kilpatrick glanced at her watch, and leaned towards Kate. ‘I’d better go as my guest will be here in a few minutes—’

  ‘No! You stay!’ Watkins shouted.

  Mrs Kilpatrick made eye contact with him again, her tone remaining friendly, but firm. ‘It’s okay, Neil. I told you: Detective Matthews is a friend. She only wants to ask you a few questions; she wants to know if you’ve seen anything strange at the school this week.’

  ‘Men. Men at school. Men in white. Policeman at the gate asking who I am.’

  Mrs Kilpatrick was about to respond, but Kate got in first. ‘The policeman at the gate was a colleague of mine,’ she said, moving closer, and tentatively lowering herself so she was sitting on the edge of the table. ‘And the men in white are colleagues of mine as well. Did you see them working?’

  He looked at Kate and nodded.

  ‘Good,’ she continued. ‘Being a detective, it’s my job to investigate crimes. Can you tell me what your job is, Neil?’

  ‘I tidy the gardens.’

  ‘Here at the school?’

  He nodded, still not looking comfortable.

  Kate thought for a moment, before pulling out her identification. ‘You said you like Sherlock Holmes; would you like to see my detective’s badge?’

  His eyes widened with excitement. Kate flipped open the wallet and showed him her warrant card and badge. He reached out like he wanted to take it.

  Kate pulled it back a fraction. ‘Oh no, Neil, I can’t let you take it. But I’ll tell you what, you said you like puzzles, do you think you would be able to help me with a puzzle?’

  He looked up at her. ‘You want my help?’

  Kate nodded for Mrs Kilpatrick to depart, before turning back to Watkins. ‘I should warn you, it’s a tricky puzzle. You’d need to be pretty smart.’

  ‘I’m smart.’

  Kate nodded encouragingly. ‘Were you working in the school this week, Neil?’

  ‘I work every Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday.’

  ‘And you worked this Thursday and Friday?’

  He nodded proudly.

  ‘Can you remember where you were working on Thursday and Friday?’

 

‹ Prev