by Michael Wood
The Hangman kicked the back of Katie’s legs, and she collapsed to the floor. Katie felt her body lighten as the oxygen was cut off from her brain. Her vision blurred, and her breathing became more erratic. Her false fingernails broke as she scratched hard at her neck. The man wrapped the rope around his hands and dragged her backwards. He slowly walked up the stairs, pulling Katie behind him like a dog on a lead. With each step, the rope seemed to get tighter. Her gasps were short and sharp. She was losing her grip on life and colours were beginning to fade.
At the top of the landing, the man tied the rope on the bannister. He lifted Katie up and looked deep into her bulging eyes. Behind him on the wall was a framed photograph of her two young children playing in the sand on a beach in Cornwall, taken a couple of years ago. She loved that picture and smiled at it every time she came upstairs.
From his back pocket he pulled out a white pillowcase and forced it down over her head. ‘Any last words?’
She tried to speak. She opened her mouth for something, anything, to come out and save her.
‘I thought not,’ the Hangman grinned.
The man pushed her over the edge of the bannister and heard her neck snap as the rope tensed.
His work here was done.
Chapter Thirty
‘Can I speak to DCI Matilda Darke, please?’
‘I’m afraid she’s in a meeting at the moment. Can I take a message?’
‘It’s very important.’
‘Who’s calling?’
‘Danny Hanson. I’m a journalist on The Star.’
‘All press enquiries should be—’
‘I’m sorry, but I need to speak to DCI Darke immediately. Tell her I’ve spoken to the killer again.’
Danny was sitting behind the wheel of his blue Fiat Punto, impatiently waiting for Matilda to take his call. It was a cold morning and he was dressed in layers. He was parked outside a semi-detached house on Westwick Road. It was in darkness, the curtains drawn and no lights on. It was still early, maybe everyone was in bed. He hoped so, although the journalist in him hoped not.
‘Mr Hanson, what can I do for you?’ Matilda’s voice was frosty. Was she annoyed at being called out of her meeting, or that Danny Hanson knew more about the killer than she did?
‘I’m sorry to interrupt you, DCI Darke. I had a call from the killer in the early hours of this morning. He told me the address of his next victim.’
‘Shit,’ Matilda said under her breath. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m outside the house right now. Don’t worry, I haven’t left the car. I thought you’d want to know.’
‘Where are you?’ she asked again firmly.
‘Westwick Road. It’s at Greenhill.’ He was talking to a dial tone.
Fifteen minutes later two cars turned the corner and drove at speed up Westwick Road. It was fully light now, and the residents of the quiet cul-de-sac were starting to leave for work and school. They paid no attention to the Fiat Punto that had been parked outside the Reaney house for more than half an hour. They did notice the two screaming cars and the people who jumped out.
Matilda was in the front passenger seat of the first car. She was on the pavement before it had fully come to a stop. From the back Sian and Rory followed. Faith was driving. In the second car was Scott and Aaron.
Danny stumbled out of his car and began talking to Matilda, but she cut him off.
‘Danny, I need you to go back to the station with my officers and give a full statement. I also want your phone looked at by Forensics.’
She walked past him and straight up the garden path.
‘Hang on a minute,’ Danny said. ‘I didn’t have to call you. I could easily have knocked on the door myself, or tried to gain entry, but I didn’t. I’m playing by the rules here, like we agreed. You can’t just send me packing.’
‘I can, and I will.’
‘Fine. But I’m not giving up my phone and you can’t make me.’
‘I can have you arrested for obstructing an investigation.’
‘If you do that, I’ll get Kate Stephenson to print everything we have so far.’
‘Shit,’ Matilda muttered. ‘Stay by your car. I’ll come and speak to you when I’m ready. Understand?’
‘Perfectly,’ he said with a smile.
‘Is it wrong that I want to give him a backhander?’ Matilda said quietly to Sian.
‘I’ll hold him for you, if you like.’
Matilda knocked on the door and waited. ‘He’s got one of those annoying smiles I could slap off his face.’
Matilda banged on the solid wood and rang the doorbell. ‘Crime reporter at his age! He should be doing vox pops and interviewing old ladies who have worked in chip shops for seventy years.’
Matilda thumped louder this time. She waited impatiently for a few more seconds before bending down to look through the letterbox.
‘Oh my God.’
‘What is it?’
‘I hate to say this, but Danny Hanson was right. We have a third victim.’
One swift hit with the battering ram was all PC Harrison needed to force the front door open. The sound reverberated around the cul-de-sac. Neighbours were out on the street wondering what was going on at the Reaney house. As soon as the door was open, Matilda and Sian stepped inside. They both stopped in the doorway and looked up – hanging by the neck from the bannister with a white pillowcase over her head was Katie Reaney.
‘Close the door,’ Matilda said.
Sian quickly complied.
‘He’s changed his MO,’ Sian said. ‘Our first female victim.’
Matilda remained silent as she glared at the still body. All she could think about was whether Ben Hales was capable of doing this. He was fragile, but when someone is in a rage, the strength they have is immense. Anything is possible. Matilda realized Sian was talking.
‘Sorry, Sian, what did you say?’
‘She’s got kids: two of them.’ Sian was upstairs on the landing, looking at a framed photograph of a happy, smiling family.
‘Check the bedrooms.’
‘Ma’am?’ Aaron asked from the doorway, informing her of his presence.
‘Aaron, get a full forensic team here. I want every inch of this house covered. Phone Adele Kean too. Seal off the road and interview all of the neighbours. I want to know everything about this family.’
Aaron walked away, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
‘The beds are empty. They haven’t been slept in,’ Sian said, coming back onto the landing.
‘Shit! Where the hell are the rest of the family? Look, we can’t do anything until Forensics have been. Sian, sort out door to door, let’s get a clearer picture of who this family is, and where they are, too.’
‘Ma’am, Danny Hanson would like a word,’ Rory said from the doorstep.
‘I bet he would,’ she sighed.
An hour later and the team of forensic officers was in full flow. Sitting in the car with the heaters on and watching through the windscreen, Matilda could see figures moving around in the brightly lit living room. She kept checking at her watch, but time seemed to be slowing down. She wanted to get in there and find out who the victim was, and what she had done that was seemingly a hangable offence.
The front passenger door opened and in climbed Rory Fleming, bringing with him a blast of cold air.
‘Jesus, it’s perishing out there.’ He shivered. ‘I’m going to have to start wearing thermals for door-to-door enquiries. You all right, boss?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. Just thinking. You found anything out?’
‘Yes. They’ve been named as the Reaney family. Andy and Katie are the parents with two children, Jenson and Bobbi. The woman at the end of the road in number 27 is Debbie Ashmore. She and Katie have been friends since they were at school together. Debbie is in a wheelchair and is virtually housebound. Now, she says Andy took the two children away late yesterday evening to spend a couple of days with his parents. It’s Katie’s thirtieth birthday today
and they were going out tonight to celebrate. His parents live in Ripon. He was spending last night with them then coming back home this morning.’
‘So Katie was alone in the house all night?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who knew about that?’
‘Well, Debbie did, obviously. According to Debbie, the rest of the neighbours are friendly, but only to a point. It’s not the kind of neighbourhood where everyone gets together for a coffee morning.’
‘So only Katie’s close friends would have known she’d be home alone?’
‘I’m guessing so, yes.’
‘Have you looked her up, see if she’s known to us?’
‘Scott’s doing that now. He’s on the phone to Kesinka.’
‘You didn’t tell Debbie what had happened to Katie?’
‘No. I said I hadn’t even been in the house, so I’ve no idea what’s gone on.’
‘Good.’ Matilda smiled.
Matilda looked out of the windscreen and saw a forensic officer at the doorway. She signalled Matilda to come to the house.
‘Keep going with the rest of the neighbours, Rory. Find out as much as you can about the family – any arguments, raised voices, that kind of thing,’ Matilda said, climbing out of the car.
‘You think the husband could have done it?’
‘Never rule anything out, Rory, until you have the facts.’
Matilda walked back to the house in the corner of the cul-de-sac. She could feel eyes burning into her – neighbours and colleagues alike, all eager to know if anything had been discovered. Danny Hanson stepped out of his Punto. He caught Matilda’s eye. He wanted to let her know he was still here, waiting. He was annoying her more and more by the hour.
‘It’s Diana, isn’t it?’ Matilda asked the forensic officer in the doorway.
‘It certainly is,’ she said in her thick West Country burr. ‘We all look alike when trussed up in these white suits, don’t we?’ She handed Matilda one then went into the living room, leaving Matilda alone in the hallway.
The body of Katie Reaney was still hanging from the bannister. The pillowcase was still covering the head. Adele gave Matilda a sympathetic smile from the landing. Why did this scene have a more sombre tone about it? Was it because the victim was female or because wherever you looked there were framed photographs of a happy, smiling family that had been destroyed?
‘What can you tell me, Diana?’ Matilda asked on entering the living room.
‘It looks like the victim was planning an evening in front of the TV. We have a bottle of wine, only one glass, some snacks and a DVD. There’s a face pack, nail polish; she was having a girly night in to pamper herself.’
‘A friend down the road said it’s her thirtieth birthday today. She was supposed to be going out with her husband, so perhaps that’s why she was giving herself a treat.’
‘There’s an iPad and her purse on the coffee table, but what’s missing?’
Matilda cast her eye over the glass-topped table. ‘Mobile phone.’
‘Exactly. I’ve searched all over the ground floor and haven’t found it yet. There’s a team upstairs but they haven’t come across anything. I’ll let you know.’
‘Thanks, Diana.’
Matilda walked from the room as Adele was coming down the stairs.
‘I’m afraid to say it seems she suffered,’ Adele said. They moved over to the body where the hands and feet had already been covered in plastic evidence bags. ‘Both of her heels are covered with carpet burns. She’s been dragged, either up the stairs if she was down, or along the landing if she was up. Look at the fingernails.’ Adele lifted one of the hands to show Matilda. ‘They’re either chipped or broken. There are plenty of skin samples and blood.’
‘Let’s hope she fought back.’
‘I doubt it. Look.’ Adele flicked on a torch and pointed it underneath the pillowcase. They both saw where the rope was cutting into Katie’s neck. ‘It’s tight; it’s caused some serious burning and there are scratches deep enough to break the skin. She was scrambling to get the rope off.’
‘How did she die? Asphyxia again?’
‘No. I’ve had a feel of the neck, and the second and third cervical vertebrae have been fractured. That would have happened after she’d dropped and the rope had tensed. If you look, the knot is beneath the chin. This is the most effective position for it to be in for a hanging.’
‘Is death instant in this case?’
‘She would have been rendered unconscious almost straight away. The heart can continue beating for up to fifteen minutes afterwards, that’s what makes the body jerk. It’s the muscles going into spasm.’
‘Ma’am?’ Scott called from the doorway.
Matilda looked around to see the young DC’s eyes fixed on the hanging woman.
‘Yes, Scott. What is it?’
‘I’ve just got off the phone to Kes. We’ve tried as many different spellings of Katie and Reaney as we can but she’s not on the computer at all.’
‘What?’
‘She doesn’t have a criminal record. She hasn’t done anything wrong.’
‘Then why has she been executed?’
All Scott could do was shrug.
Chapter Thirty-One
With Katie Reaney having been cut down and taken to the mortuary and the scene of crime officers finished, Matilda and her team searched the house for something, anything, that could lead them to why an innocent woman had been executed in her own home.
It was quieter without the mass of white-suited SOCOs going about their business. Matilda felt like she was intruding on someone’s private life as she searched through drawers and cupboards. If this was the work of the same killer, and everything was pointing in that direction, what was the reason behind it?
‘He’s still out there,’ Sian said from the bay window.
‘Who is?’
‘Danny Hanson. In his car. He keeps looking up and then down at his phone.’
‘I’m dreading what’s going to be in this evening’s edition,’ Matilda said.
‘He’s dedicated, I’ll give him that.’
‘Wouldn’t you be? This is a wet dream to him. He’s having front-page news delivered to him on a silver platter every day. If this doesn’t get him a job on a national, I don’t know what will.’
‘He wants to be careful; I’ve seen those movies where the killer contacts the press. He’s more than likely to be one of the victims. Did you just smirk?’ Sian asked.
‘No.’
‘You did. Matilda Darke, I’m shocked. You almost smiled at the thought of Danny Hanson hanging from a rope,’ Sian said, playfully.
‘If he’s going to talk to a killer then he needs to accept the consequences.’
‘Don’t forget the killer has contacted you a few times, too. You could be on his hit list.’
‘Don’t worry, next time he rings, I’ll give him your number.’ She smiled and walked away.
‘Ma’am, I’ve found an address book in the bedside table,’ Scott said, entering the room. ‘It’s got the mobile number of an Andy Reaney in it.’
‘Jesus,’ Matilda said under her breath. She hated making this kind of phone call. ‘Give it to me,’ she said, taking out her own mobile from somewhere beneath her white suit.
***
‘Is this Andy Reaney?’ Matilda asked. She was in the kitchen of the three-bedroom house with the door closed, to give her as much privacy as possible. She could feel her mouth going dry already. Delivering the death message never got any easier.
‘Speaking,’ came the reply. There was heavy traffic in the background. Matilda guessed Andy was driving and (hopefully) using a hands-free device.
‘Mr Reaney, my name is Detective Chief Inspector Matilda Darke from South Yorkshire Police. I’m afraid there has been an incident at your home. Is there any chance you could meet me there as soon as possible?’
‘An incident? What kind of incident?’ Andy’s voice had increased in volume and
pitch as all kinds of scenarios ran through his mind. ‘Is Katie there? Is she all right?’
‘Mr Reaney, I don’t want to have this conversation with you over the phone, especially as you’re driving. How long do you think it would take you to get home?’
‘I’m on my way now. I’ve just entered Sheffield. I’ll be about twenty minutes or so. Can you just tell me what’s going on?’
‘I’d rather wait until you were here, Mr Reaney.’
‘Shit,’ Andy said.
***
‘I’m guessing this is him,’ Sian said as she looked through the living room window and saw a black Audi come charging up the road.
Matilda and her team had removed their forensic suits. The house was a mess of fingerprint powder, items had been taken out of drawers and frames removed from walls. It wasn’t the same home Andy Reaney had left last night, and it would never feel like the same home again.
As soon as the Audi screeched to a stop, Andy jumped out. So did Danny Hanson.
‘Shit,’ Sian said. ‘Steve, you’re needed.’
PC Steve Harrison pulled the front door open and charged out. He surprised Andy, who stopped dead in his tracks. Steve grabbed Danny by the shoulder and pushed him away, ushering him back to his car. He was leaning down and whispering something into his ear. Matilda couldn’t hear what but judging by the frightened look on the young reporter’s face it was working. Steve may have been a tad heavy-handed, but she couldn’t help but smile.
‘Mr Reaney, I’m DS Sian Mills, would you like to come inside?’
The shock of seeing his home taken over by police and the realization that something bad had happened behind the front door suddenly hit him. Once he crossed the threshold, the truth would be revealed and his life, and the life of his children, would never be the same again. He stood stock still halfway up the garden path. His face deathly pale and his eyes wide. His breathing was erratic as Sian put her arm around him and gently coaxed him into the house.
Andy was a tall, solidly built man in his mid-thirties, but he looked older due to the shaved head and the greying stubble on his chin. The worry on his pale face didn’t help either. He was wearing loose-fitting jeans and battered Converse trainers. His thick jacket was relatively new.
