Cold Heart: Absolutely gripping serial-killer fiction

by Stephen Edger

  Laura was right: not a single one of them would stop unless she forced them to, and in her role as their leader it was time to make that call. Ultimately the enquiries they were trying to make now would be largely met by office answering systems, as the rest of the city had long since gone home for the night.

  ‘Thanks, Laura,’ Kate said, relieving the young detective before standing herself and moving to the middle of the incident room floor space. ‘Listen up, folks,’ she called out. ‘I want to personally thank you for all your efforts today, but I’m calling it to an end for now. Go home and rest; we’ve done all we can and we’re all running on close to empty.’

  Kate returned to her own desk, briefly looking at the photograph of Chloe which was stuck to the bottom of her monitor, vowing she would catch up with Jackson before the weekend.

  The phone ringing on the edge of the desk snapped Kate back to reality.

  ‘Kate?’ Ben said down the phone. ‘I’m up with SSD and they asked me to call you. They still have technicians processing the scene, but we’ve definitely found Petr Nowakowski’s blood at the scene. It will be some time until they finish processing the remaining samples, but they’ve positively identified four of them so far, with plenty more to test.’

  ‘So Nowakowski is the victim this time?’

  ‘It’s looking likely.’

  Kate closed her eyes as she silently nodded. It confirmed what they’d suspected, but since his heart had been delivered in the box, it had been evident that he was dead, so this didn’t feel like news.

  ‘Have they found any other DNA in the room yet?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, they have. That’s why I’m calling.’

  Kate’s pulse quickened. ‘Who?’

  ‘Unidentified, I’m afraid. SSD found a patch of dried mucus on the carpet beneath the plastic sheeting.’

  ‘Which could have been left by a previous visitor to the property presumably?’

  ‘Maybe. They were able to confirm that it was fairly recent, but that’s not the exciting part. This second DNA profile was also discovered at the gymnasium.’

  Kate frowned. ‘I wasn’t aware that a second profile had been identified at the school.’

  ‘It was literally just found; minutes before the mucus profile was assessed.’

  ‘Are you sure the samples weren’t cross-contaminated?’

  ‘Couldn’t have been. Packaged separately and were being worked on at exactly the same time by different technicians in different laboratories. There is no way they could have been contaminated.’

  ‘So what you’re saying is we have an unidentified person present at both crime scenes?’

  ‘Told you you’d be excited.’

  ‘Tell me about this new profile from the gymnasium. Where was it discovered?’

  ‘You remember the box of cleaning products that was located in the corner of the gymnasium? The box that was hiding the foot from view. It had blood spatter on it so naturally was brought to the lab for examination. The technician working on it, found a dried sweat secretion in the bottom of the box, beneath the bottles of bleach and whatever else was in there. Whoever’s DNA it is, they had contact with that box at some point prior to the dismembering. And they had also coughed up mucus on the carpet in number forty-eight. At the very least it ties this individual to both scenes, whether or not they were present when the crimes were undertaken.’

  ‘But this profile doesn’t match anything on the National DNA Database?’

  ‘Not so far. What I can tell you is the sample belongs to a man. We also believe he may have ginger or strawberry-blond hair.’

  Kate turned and stared at Jackson’s hair in the profile picture. ‘How the hell can you tell that?’

  ‘There’s a test for it. Some redheads have a different version of a gene that prevents pigment-producing cells called melanocytes responding to a hormone that instructs them to make dark pigment. In samples such as this where two of the mutated genes are identified, there is a ninety-six per cent probability that the person will be naturally red-haired.’

  ‘No hits on Daisy Emerson’s profile in the room?’

  ‘Not so far.’

  Kate allowed a small sigh of relief escape. ‘Thanks, Ben. I’m sending the team home now, but if you get anything else that needs sharing, I want you to call my mobile straight away.’

  ‘You need to rest too, Kate.’

  ‘I’ll stop when the bastard is behind bars.’ She paused. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any clue where he’s disposing of the body parts, is there?’

  ‘Well, that’s the big question, isn’t it? Nothing so far, but the team will be excavating the garden first thing. Burying the bodies would be the easiest solution for disposal.’

  Kate scribbled the note on her pad. ‘When are you finishing?’

  ‘Soon. There isn’t a lot more I can do to help them here.’

  *

  The drive home was largely completed on autopilot, with Kate suddenly surprised to find herself parked up outside the small block of flats. A dusting of snow remained on the lids of all the bins in the street, but the road and large sections of pavement had cleared. The further flurry had yet to arrive, but as Kate stepped out of her car, the bitter chill that greeted her exposed cheeks warned her that it might not be far away. Locking the car, she hustled through the front door, grateful that the communal areas were benefiting from the heat coming from the ground floor flats.

  Charging up the stairs to the first floor, Kate only stopped when she heard her name being called from the second floor. Leaning against the bannister, she looked up and saw her neighbour staring down.

  ‘Hi, Trish.’

  ‘Give me one second and I’ll be down,’ Trish replied, disappearing from view.

  Kate wanted to call after her and try to explain that she wasn’t in any state to stay up drinking and chatting, though it had been too long since they’d last had a proper catch-up. But there was only one place Kate wanted to be now, and that was in bed, squashed up next to her pillow.

  Kate was unlocking her front door when she heard Trish join her on the landing. ‘This came for you today,’ Trish began. ‘The delivery driver was just going to leave it on your doormat, but I said I would take it in for you in case it was something expensive.’

  Kate’s eyes widened, as she realised what her neighbour was saying. Kate knew she hadn’t ordered anything that would require delivery, and as she slowly turned, the overpowering scent of strawberry confirmed her worst fears.

  Gripping the large box tightly, Trish was clearly oblivious to what she might be holding.

  ‘Are you all right, honey?’ Trish asked. ‘You look like you’ve see a ghost.’

  Kate pushed her door open, asking Trish to carefully carry the brown cardboard box through to the kitchen to avoid further contamination. Resting the box on the counter, Trish stepped back uncertainly as Kate moved closer to the box. Reaching for a pair of Marigolds and a large kitchen knife, she carefully broke the tape sealing the lid and slowly lifted the flaps, gasping as she recognised the glittery wrapping paper around the box inside. Sliding it out, the sweet smell of artificial strawberries filled the room.

  ‘I bet it’s from Ben,’ Trish giggled, missing the seriousness of the discovery.

  Carefully removing the wrapping paper, Kate used the tip of the knife to lift the lid a fraction, dropping it as soon as she saw the bloody contents, and pushing the box further away from them.

  ‘What is it?’ Trish asked, perfectly reflecting the fear in Kate’s eyes.

  A second delivery, but this time to her house. All day her team had been hunting for Jackson, and the whole time he’d been looking for her. How the hell could he have found out where she lived?

  Grabbing Trish’s arms, Kate gently shook her startled friend. ‘Who delivered this, Trish?’

  ‘I-I… just some guy.’

  ‘A courier?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess.’

  ‘Was he, or not?’
>
  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘From which firm?’

  ‘I-I-I don’t know. He was wearing a brown uniform of some sort… doesn’t the box say who delivered it?’

  Kate carefully spun the brown box around, checking each surface for any kind of postage label, but finding none. ‘You need to think carefully, Trish, what did the uniform look like?’

  ‘I-I don’t know.’ Trish closed her eyes as she tried to focus on the memory. ‘His trousers were a dark brown colour, I think, but… oh wait, his bomber jacket wasn’t brown, it was navy blue.’

  ‘What about a logo, or badge? Anything to help us find out who he used to send it this time?’

  ‘He, who? What’s in the box, Kate?’

  But Kate knew she couldn’t answer that question. And then another troubling thought fired into her mind sending shivers down her spine, as Jackson’s goofy smile flooded her mind’s eye.

  ‘Describe the courier to me. What did his face look like?’

  ‘I don’t understand why you’re asking that, Kate. What’s in the box? What’s going on?’

  Kate didn’t have time for questions. Gripping Trish’s arms once more, Kate stared into her friend’s terrified eyes, and spoke calmly, yet methodically. ‘I need you to remember, Trish. Forget about the box. Close your eyes and remember what the courier looked like. Was he tall, was he short? Was he thin, was he fat? What colour were his eyes?’

  Trish’s breaths were coming in short, shallow bursts, but she closed her eyes as instructed. ‘He was short… well, shorter than me.’

  ‘How much shorter?’

  ‘Six inches maybe.’

  ‘Good, Trish. What else can you remember?’

  ‘He was wearing a dark baseball cap, but I could see wisps of brown hair peeking out beneath it, and over the tops of his ears.’

  Jackson’s hair in the photograph was strawberry-blond, but in a dimly lit room, could it pass for brown? Maybe.

  ‘Keep going, Trish.’

  ‘He wasn’t fat, but certainly bulky… he had a round belly. Oh, and his nose was huge, not long, but spread right across his face.’

  Kate froze. The man Trish was describing wasn’t Jackson, but possibly the man Georgie had seen speaking to Daisy outside number forty-eight.

  ‘Is there anything else distinctive you can remember? Did he speak? How did he sound?’

  ‘He told me the parcel was fragile, and that he appreciated me volunteering to look after it for you. He made me promise that I pass it on to you today. I didn’t even think about it until now, but he never asked me to sign for it.’

  Kate released Trish’s arms, and disposed of her gloves, before pouring two large glasses of wine. She took a long sip, before pulling out her phone and calling Ben. ‘I need you at my place now, and bring SSD. I just got another delivery.’

  43

  TWELVE DAYS MISSING

  Kate woke as her elbow slipped from the arm rest that had been supporting her on the chairs outside the SSD labs. Glancing at her watch, she was amazed to find it was almost six a.m.

  Ben had told her not to bother staying, and had promised he would phone as soon as he was finished examining the second heart, but she had insisted, knowing she wouldn’t be able to rest properly until she knew whether Daisy was alive or dead.

  Kate released a huge yawn, and was just resting her face on the back of her hand, when Ben emerged from the labs looking as exhausted as she felt. Sitting up, Kate blinked rapidly to clear the sleep from her eyes.

  ‘You’re here,’ he said, looking disappointed, but not surprised.

  ‘What did you find?’

  Ben nodded towards the door. ‘You’d better come in with me. You can put on overalls in the lab.’

  Once inside and covered, Ben removed the metal tray containing the second heart from the small refrigeration unit. He lifted the lid from the tray and used a scalpel to point at the main arteries. ‘I believe the same tool was used to sever the pulmonary arteries and vena cava, as was used on Petr Nowakowski’s heart. Based on the jagged nature of the cuts, some kind of scissors were used again.’

  ‘And the bloodwork? Whose heart is it?’

  ‘At only 171 grams, and looking at the thickness of the vein walls it definitely belonging to a female. We’ve tested the DNA against the two prominent profiles, and I can confirm this was Maria Alexandrou’s heart. The DNA matched the extract from the foot you discovered on Friday night, and the nail clippings you brought in on Monday.’

  ‘How long ago did she die?’

  ‘Based on what I determined from the foot and what we know now, realistically about a week ago, maybe slightly less.’

  ‘So, who died first? Nowakowski or Maria?’

  ‘Oh, definitely Nowakowski.’

  ‘So is it possible that Nowakowski was killed and dismembered the Friday that Daisy went missing?’

  He considered the question. ‘It would probably be impossible to say for certain, but I’d say that’s probably a reasonable deduction. What are you thinking?’

  ‘Nowakowski and Maria were both desperate for money; that’s the only thing we’ve found that links the two of them, but there’s nothing to link either to Daisy. Georgie Barclay puts Daisy outside number forty-eight on the night she went missing. What if she saw something she shouldn’t have? Or maybe she heard the victim screaming, or the sound of the power saw? I don’t know, but we know she remained on Abbotts Way for five minutes after leaving Georgie’s house, and she definitely stopped outside number forty-eight.’

  ‘You think the killer attacked her too? So far we haven’t found any evidence putting her inside the house.’

  Kate pulled a face, and sighed. ‘It’s just a theory. If he did grab her, it’s only a matter of time until we discover a third bloody scene.’

  ‘I hope for all our sakes that you don’t.’ He paused, and fixed her with a look. ‘I don’t want you going back to your flat alone tonight. He knows where you live and I’m not prepared to let you become his next victim. Either you stay at my place until this thing is over, or I’m coming to yours. I won’t take no for an answer.’

  Kate was too tired to argue, and secretly a little relived; she didn’t want to be home alone, either.

  *

  ‘Maria Alexandrou is confirmed as our second victim,’ Kate declared, marching into the incident room. ‘Her heart was hand-delivered to my flat yesterday. We have another apology from our killer. Again scrawled on one of those air fresheners. The handwriting is a match for the original note according to SSD, so we’re looking at the same killer for both Petr Nowakowski and Maria Alexandrou, but there may also be an accomplice. I want someone checking all the cameras around my home looking for Jackson’s van, or his face. Let’s follow him if we can.’

  ‘Ewan, can you search through his confirmed friends list and see if any match the description of the accomplice? Does it say if he’s in a relationship with anyone?’

  ‘No, ma’am. All he’s listed about himself is that he’s self-employed.’

  ‘Thanks, Ewan. Laura, where are we with tracing the owner of forty-eight Abbotts Way?’

  ‘On hold with the tax office now, ma’am,’ Laura replied, holding the phone to her shoulder.

  ‘Great, let me know the moment you have—’

  ‘Ah Kate,’ the supe said, interrupting. Kate turned and saw him standing at the door, still wearing his overcoat. ‘Have you got five minutes?’

  He looked more serious than usual. Kate hoped it wasn’t more trouble with Tara, and put on her most accommodating smile. ‘Certainly, sir,’ she said, as she followed him through the door and over to his office.

  The supe removed his coat and gloves before sitting. ‘I heard about what happened at your flat last night. Are you okay?’

  His concern shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. ‘I’m fine, sir.’

  ‘I’d understand if you wished to be removed from the case.’

  Kate held his gaze. ‘Absolutely no way, sir.�
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  He broke first, looking over to the window. ‘I’m glad that’s how you feel.’

  ‘We have reason to believe Daisy may have come into contact with the killer as well, sir. We are focusing on locating our prime suspect now.’

  He tilted his head in surprise. ‘They’re connected?’

  ‘Possibly. We have her in the vicinity of the bloodbath.’

  ‘Anything to put her inside the house?’

  ‘Not yet, but they’re still processing the scene.’

  ‘Keep me posted.’

  Kate made to leave, before turning back. ‘How is everything with you, sir? Is Tara okay?’

  His forced smile told her more than he was prepared to. ‘All fine now, but I’ll tell her you were asking after her.’

  *

  Kate was just closing the door behind her when Laura came tearing down the hallway. ‘House is registered to an Imelda Watkins, ma’am.’

  ‘Watkins?’ Kate coughed. ‘The school governor?’

  Laura nodded. ‘The very same, but what I also found out is that twelve months ago, Chris Jackson was paying the council tax on forty-eight Abbotts Way.’

  Kate’s blood ran cold.

  ‘There’s more,’ Laura said. ‘Vehicle recognition has his van in Portswood the night Daisy vanished.’

  Kate stared back at her open-mouthed, shuffling the abundance of dots joining together and presenting her with Jackson’s face.

  ‘The deeds to the property are in Imelda’s name, but it looks like he was paying the council tax and was listed as the sole resident of the property for a year before Mrs Watkins reverted to paying it herself.’

  ‘He was renting the place from her?’

  ‘That would be my guess, but I’m sure she’ll be able to confirm.’

  ‘So that puts him in the property, but not recently. That means if any of his DNA is found inside that bedroom, his defence could argue that it was from when he lived there.’

  ‘Not if the patch of mucus turns out to be his.’

  ‘But why would he do it there?’

  ‘Maybe because he knew the property to be vacant. It’s the ideal location if he didn’t expect to be disturbed.’

  Freeborn burst out of the incident room, almost colliding with the two of them. ‘Ma’am, ma’am,’ he gulped. ‘Jackson’s credit card was just used to gain admission to a National Trust site near Romsey. We have his location.’