by Bill Rogers
She spoke directly to the camera again.
‘I’d had a holiday job with a florist. She offered me full-time as her assistant. I loved arranging the flowers, and did a lot of weddings and funerals. The funerals made me cry, but then so did the weddings. It was hard seeing people committing to a lifelong relationship. I could never see myself doing that. It was beyond my imagination.’
She stopped, and something in her expression led Jo to prompt her.
‘What happened, Amanda?’
‘We had two weddings and a funeral on the same day. That evening I was exhausted. I went to bed, but I found I couldn’t sleep. I kept going over and over what we’d done together, my brother and I. I couldn’t get it out of my head. I tossed and turned all night, consumed with self-loathing and guilt. The next morning, I had this overwhelming sense of sadness.’
‘You were seriously depressed,’ said Jo.
Amanda nodded. ‘Clinically depressed, just like mother. I felt empty. Everything seemed pointless. I started smoking cannabis just to get through the day. Finally, my employer noticed. She sat me down and told me all the problems that she had had in her life – how she had begun to drink and take drugs, but that only made things worse. She persuaded me to see someone who’d helped her – someone the Samaritans had recommended. A counsellor. The counsellor got me to open up. I told her I’d been abused by a family member, but didn’t tell her who, and she didn’t try to make me. She said the root of my problem was twofold: lack of self-worth and anger.’
Amanda frowned, and shook her head.
‘More like self-disgust.’
Then she bowed her head and fell silent.
‘Who were you angry with, Amanda?’ Jo asked.
Amanda looked up. ‘My mother, for not noticing. My father for leaving us. My brother for manipulating me, for stealing my innocence and my youth, for taking away my power to make choices,’ she paused, ‘and myself, for becoming a victim.’
‘I go along with all of that,’ said Jo, ‘except the last part. You said yourself that your brother took away your power to choose. You did not choose to become a victim.’
Amanda smiled. ‘That’s what the counsellor said. But knowing and believing is not the same thing. Anyway, she helped me to pull myself together. Saved my life really.’
Sometimes that was all it took. Just one significant other. Someone who enters your life at a critical time and makes all the difference. I was lucky, Jo reflected. I had two: Tom Caton and Abbie.
‘I came off the weed,’ Amanda continued, ‘applied for teacher-training and went away to university. I had difficulty making close friends of either sex at first, but I got by. It was only when we had a series of sessions about safeguarding children that it all fell into place. The way he had manipulated me, the way he used the situation we were in. The fact that I was too young and innocent and in need of love right then to understand, or to do anything about it. That’s when I truly accepted that it was not my fault. That I had been a victim. And that I could choose not to be a victim any longer or ever again.’
She took another drink of water. This time her smile transformed her face. For the first time, she looked relaxed, as though she had shrugged a weight that had been dragging her down from her shoulders. Jo had a glimpse of how beautiful she must have been, and still might be.
‘I met Jed during my first teaching post. He was over here on a teaching exchange. When he went back to New Zealand, I went with him. We married the following year. We have two daughters and one son. And I never looked back – until your colleague contacted me.’
She picked up her glass of water and sat back in her chair. Jo realised that she had come to the end of her story. Or at least as much of it as she was prepared to share.
‘Do you mind if I ask you a few questions now, Amanda?’
‘No.’ Amanda lifted her glass. ‘Go ahead.’
Jo opened the folder Ram had placed on the desk. ‘I’m going to show you a picture,’ she said. ‘Can you tell me if you’ve seen anything like it before?’
She held up the enlarged photo of the tattoo left on the first of his victims. Amanda studied it, and then slowly shook her head.
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘You never saw anything like this when you and your brother were still living at home? A book, a picture, anything at all?’
‘No, I’m sorry. Is it important?’
Jo ignored her question. ‘Did he ever give you anything as a present – a piece of jewellery, for instance?’
‘Sometimes he did. Before I told him it had to stop or I’d tell the psychologist. For my birthday and Christmas. He bought me a silver cross once. Another time, a sparkly bracelet.’
‘Anything to do with birds?’
She frowned.
‘No, a ladybird, a butterfly. No birds.’
Jo didn’t let her disappointment show. It was too much to expect there to be so obvious a connection.
‘There was one thing though,’ Amanda said. ‘Towards the end, before he went away to university, he started calling me his little dove.’
Jo smiled. That’ll do, she thought.
‘Thank you, Amanda,’ she said. ‘I can only begin to imagine how hard this must have been for you. But you have no idea how helpful you have been.’
‘And there’s no way he’ll find out that I’ve spoken to you?’
‘Absolutely not, unless you decide that you want him to know.’ She hesitated. ‘However, Amanda, I have to be honest with you, if my investigation should result in your brother facing charges on another matter, the information you have shared with me might be something the prosecution would feel they needed to strengthen their case. If that did happen, then the defence, including your brother, would also have to know about it.’
She nodded.
‘Would I have to give evidence?’
‘Not necessarily. But if you did, under Section 32(1)(a) of the Criminal Justice Act 1988, you’d be able to give your evidence by live video link, just as you have today.’
Amanda’s relief was evident. ‘I don’t want my husband to know,’ she said, ‘or my children. I couldn’t bear for them to find out. That’s why I never reported him.’
Jo took a deep breath. ‘I’m truly sorry, Amanda,’ she said. ‘But even if what you have just told me is not raised in court, if your brother were to be tried and convicted of something, there would be nothing to stop the media from digging into his past, into his family. You need to be prepared for that to happen.’
Amanda Kelly, née Malacott, had remained strong throughout the interview, and it was hard to witness how crestfallen those words had left her.
‘It may never come to that,’ Jo said. ‘But you might want to think about talking to someone. A counsellor. I can give you the contact details for a specialist service right there in Christchurch if you’d like that?’
‘Thank you,’ Amanda replied, ‘but there’s no need. I have the details. I looked them up when your colleague contacted me. I’ve just been trying to find the courage to follow it up.’
‘I only hope this conversation has helped,’ said Jo.
Amanda smiled. ‘Yes, I think it has.’
‘One final question, Amanda,’ said Jo. ‘How tall are you?’
The question took her by surprise.
‘Five foot. Why do you ask?’
Her expression slowly changed as comprehension dawned. She nodded her head, her face set hard.
‘These women,’ she said. ‘They’re all blonde, aren’t they? And petite?’
‘Yes, Amanda,’ Jo replied, ‘I’m afraid that they are.’
The corners of her mouth twitched, and for the first time her eyes began to well up.
‘He couldn’t let me go,’ she whispered, ‘could he?’
Chapter 45
‘I knew it!’ Jo slapped the folder down on the table. ‘I knew he was too good to be true. How could he have done that to his little sister, knowing how vulnerable
she was?’
‘That’s precisely why he did it,’ Andy told her. ‘He was vulnerable himself, remember, but he must also have had sociopathic tendencies. Current research suggests that sex offenders exhibit heightened sociopathy, and an inclination to cognitive distortion.’
‘In simple terms,’ Jo said, ‘he has his own personal moral code, and he lies to himself to justify the evil that he does.’
‘That’s over-simplistic,’ Andy said, ‘but broadly accurate.’
‘I’d have thought he was more a psychopath than a sociopath,’ she continued, ‘especially if he’s behind these rapes and abductions.’
‘If he is, Jo, then you may well be right. First you have to prove it. So far all you have is a hunch and his sister’s testimony to historical child abuse.’
‘How did she strike you?’ Jo asked.
‘Intelligent, respectable, honest, outwardly tough. She’s come a long way from that tragic child and teenager. But under that veneer she still has low self-esteem and exhibits a high degree of passivity. Both of which are characteristic of a compliant victim of grooming and abuse. My hunch is that fear of abandonment following her father leaving her mother led her to develop a dependent personality disorder. Her brother used that to satisfy his own needs and to overcome his own sense of loss. You heard her, they both needed each other. He preyed on that. She’s fought like hell to break away from the mould they created together. She’s still fighting.’
Jo’s eyebrows rose. She was unable to hide her surprise and disappointment.
‘I’m sorry,’ Andy said, ‘but it’s true. She needed him. That’s why he was able to get away with it for so long, why she didn’t report it. She felt guilty – she still feels guilty. What I’m not doing is condoning his behaviour. She was a child; he was on the brink of adulthood. He knew what he was doing was wrong, yet he still groomed and abused her. This is how paedophiles work, Jo. They exploit vulnerability. You know that.’
Of course she did. She had seen it over and over again. Confronted with Amanda Kelly’s account, she had lost her objectivity and had been too hasty to judge her colleague.
‘I’m sorry, Andy,’ she said. ‘You’re right.’
‘The question is,’ he said, ‘what are you going to do with this?’
‘I’m going to enter it into the policy book as substantive evidence of Malacott’s precursor behaviour and predilection for sexual abuse. That, taken together with his access to the universities from which six of the victims come, and his obsession with rape crisis charities and training, should be more than sufficient to justify covert observation. I’ll also make applications for search warrants as and when I need them.’
‘That may be sooner than you think!’
Ram was standing in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. In his left hand he held a notepad triumphantly above his head.
‘Come on, Ram,’ she said, ‘don’t leave us in suspense.’
The three of them sat down around the table.
‘I was lucky,’ he told them. ‘The first person I spoke to at his university put me through to the alumni office. It turned out that Malacott is well known to them because he regularly goes back to give talks.’
‘The Say No And Stay Safe seminars?’ Jo guessed.
‘Not just those, but ones on . . .’ He consulted his notes. ‘Self-Actualisation and Marketing Oneself.’
‘That figures,’ Jo said. ‘Pretending it’s all about them, when it’s really all about himself.’
‘Exactly,’ said Andy. ‘That cognitive distortion I mentioned? It tends to reinforce negative emotions, to makes us think badly of ourselves. What he’s doing is trying to compensate for that – to boost his ego.’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea what you two are talking about,’ said Ram. ‘Do you want to hear what I’ve discovered or carry on a psychology symposium?’
‘Sorry,’ said Andy.
‘Yes, sorry,’ said Jo.
Ram grinned. ‘You don’t need to go overboard. Anyway, the alumni office put me through to one of the profs who’s been there ever since Malacott began his undergraduate course. He actually tutored him, and still sees him from time to time when he comes back to give talks. They’ve even had dinner together.’
‘Are they friends?’ Jo asked.
‘I didn’t ask, but I got the impression they get on well together, and Mackay, that’s the name of the prof, likes Malacott. Anyway, I told this Mackay that Sam Malacott had offered to assist us with an investigation, and we just needed to check out his background before we took him up on it. A bit like a reference.’
‘You devious devil,’ said Jo, ‘that’s sheer genius.’
‘Thanks for the genius bit,’ Ram replied. ‘Obviously, not for the devil. So, it turns out that while Malacott was at university he had a one-term student business placement.’ He paused, and grinned. ‘Guess where?’
‘In a fertility clinic!’ they exclaimed as one.
‘He said he didn’t remember the name, but when I prompted him with the original name of the clinic from which Dalmeny’s sample went missing, he confirmed it. Malacott was supposed to be learning about the business side of the work, the systems involved, and because his degree involved psychology, he was learning about the way they counselled patients around IVF, fertility problems and the like. The prof says he remembered it specifically because Malacott also became a sperm donor advocate. He remembered them having a laugh about it.’
‘Sperm donor advocate,’ said Jo. ‘What did that entail?’
‘Encouraging others to donate. Explaining what’s involved before the start of the formal interview process. Apparently he persuaded some of his fellow students to sign up.’
‘Did he donate himself?’ Andy wondered. ‘It would fit with the unsub’s mindset, with his sense of omnipotence.’
Ram placed his notes on the table. ‘I didn’t ask and I didn’t press him any further. I reckoned I’d got enough, and I didn’t want him becoming suspicious and reporting back to Malacott.’
‘You’re probably right,’ said Jo. ‘Although from the sound of it, I’d be surprised if this Mackay didn’t contact him anyway to tell him you’d been in touch. Not that it matters: it’s him. Malacott is our unsub – he must be. He’ll have known that Dalmeny’s samples were supposed to be destroyed. He must have gained access to them. Maybe substituted one of his own. Or falsified the records.’
‘How long ago was this?’ said Andy. ‘Sixteen years. And he’s stolen a supply and kept it in his freezer all this time. Waiting for the right moment?’
‘It’s not impossible, is it?’
‘Why not use it sooner?’
‘Because he didn’t need to. Not until we began to close in on him. Not until he needed a diversion?’
The door opened, and Max walked in.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said. ‘What are you three up to? You look like Father Christmas came early.’
‘Sit down, Max,’ Jo said, ‘and we’ll tell you.’
‘I don’t want to spoil the party,’ Max said. ‘But all of this is still only circumstantial.’ He raised his hand to stay Jo’s objection. ‘I’m not minimising the importance of his sister’s testimony, nor the fact that he was at the clinic. I don’t believe in two separate and equally bizarre coincidences like these any more than you do. Fifty years ago it might have been enough to secure a conviction. But now? We have no direct evidence linking him to any of the abductions or rapes. We don’t have his DNA or his fingerprints, or any other form of trace evidence to prove that he went anywhere near any of those girls.’
‘I’m assuming that means your visit to the florist drew a blank?’ said Jo.
He nodded. ‘I’m afraid so. She remembered the homeless guy. Nearly didn’t hand the flowers over till she saw the money. All of which she banked straight after work. I went straight to the bank, but with it being Christmas time, they’d already processed the overnight deposits. It would have been among the cash collected b
y the security van about an hour before I got there. There’s no way we could identify those notes now.’
‘But the fact that he was at that clinic at the same time that Dalmeny was a donor,’ Ram began.
‘Indicates a possible opportunity to steal the sample,’ said Jo, ‘but Max is right. It doesn’t prove that he did, and there’s nothing that proves he had the means and opportunity to use it in that way. The defence will ask if we’ve eliminated everyone else who worked at the clinic at that time.’
‘So what are you going to do?’ said Andy.
Jo looked at her fellow investigator. ‘I think we’ve got enough to set up covert observation on Malacott himself under my authority, and to apply for authorisation, under section 5 of the Intelligence Services Act 1994 and Part III of the 1997 Act, for directed surveillance on his landline and mobile phones, and potentially intrusive surveillance under the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act 2000 on his house and car. What do you think, Max?’
‘I agree,’ he said. ‘The sooner the better. It’ll bugger up someone’s Christmas, but I don’t see that you have any choice.’
Jo began to get up, but Andy placed a hand on her arm.
‘You haven’t asked me about the flowers yet,’ he said.
She looked at him. ‘What about them?’
‘Don’t you want to know what I think that was all about? Assuming that they’re from the unsub?’
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I’d just assumed it was an attempt to divert me: to make me take my eye off the ball, to make me start chasing shadows. But you’re the expert. I should have asked.’
‘Expert isn’t the same as infallible,’ he replied. ‘I agree with your instinctive premise. Distraction is certainly part of it. But it also suggests that the unsub is seriously rattled, either because you’re getting close, or because the death of Susanne Hadrix, his seventh victim, has thrown him. That was not part of the plan. He’s no longer in control. Sending you those flowers was a way to exercise some control over you – but it may also have been something else.’ He paused.
