Henley shot a glance at Ramouter. ‘I’m afraid that Daniel Kennedy is dead,’ she said.
Ndidi’s hands flew to her mouth. Her eyes widened with shock. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘His body was found on Monday morning in Deptford.’
Ndidi began to cry. ‘Who would do such a thing?’ She reached into her cardigan pocket and pulled out a tissue. ‘Why would they… why?’
‘I wish that I could tell you, but I honestly don’t know,’ Henley said. ‘That’s why we have to investigate. Did Zoe mention anything to you? Anything that would have made you concerned about her safety?’
Ndidi began to cry again and Henley let her.
‘If there was anything,’ Ndidi said after a minute had a passed. ‘I would have told you. She was a good girl, but who knows? She kept Daniel a secret for so long. Who knew what else she was keeping from us?’
‘What about her work? Any problems?’
Ndidi shook her head. ‘She loved her job. She loved to help people. She wanted to bring life into the world. How could anyone want to kill her for doing that?’
Henley’s throat tightened. ‘We will find who took Zoe away from you,’ she managed to say.
Ndidi got up and walked to the mantelpiece. She picked up a photograph of a smiling baby. ‘When can we bring her home?’ she asked, gently stroking the glass.
Henley hated this question the most. There was never a satisfactory answer, because the truth was that she didn’t know.
‘The police didn’t care when we said that she was missing,’ said Ndidi. ‘You need to promise me that you will not let Zoe be forgotten.’
Henley could hear her old boss’s words echoing in her head. Rhimes had repeatedly told her, ‘Don’t make promises to the family that you can’t keep. This ain’t about you.’
‘I promise,’ said Henley.
Chapter 14
Henley put down the phone with a heavy heart.
‘What’s wrong?’ Stanford placed a cup of tea on Henley’s desk.
Pellacia looked up from his seat by the window where he’d been reviewing the Ladywell Fields crime scene photographs. He was one of the few officers who, after years on the force, remained uncomfortable with images of death.
‘That was Linh,’ said Henley. ‘She’s completed the autopsy of Zoe. She was six weeks pregnant.’
‘Damn. Poor girl.’
‘You’ve been to the hospital and spoken to friends. Any possibility that Daniel Kennedy wasn’t the father?’
‘Feel like I’m on an episode of Jeremy Kyle. Give me a sec,’ said Stanford.
‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ said Eastwood, throwing her empty crisp packet in the bin and reaching for the KitKat on her desk. Eastwood loved her junk food.
The stillness as the team waited for Stanford to answer was broken by Ramouter entering the room.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ Ramouter said.
‘Short answer to that is no,’ said Stanford. ‘According to her best friend, Rachel Bishop, who has been working on the same ward as Zoe for the past eight months, Zoe was head over heels in love with Kennedy. Rachel said that Kennedy was a bit overprotective but was adamant that he would never hurt Zoe.’
‘OK, so why keep the relationship a secret if Daniel was such a good boyfriend?’ asked Ramouter.
‘The family are strict Seventh Day Adventists and completely against inter-faith relationships,’ explained Stanford. ‘Kennedy is Catholic so that was a no-no. Rachel says that Zoe’s grandmother was fine with it, but her grandad and uncle didn’t like it one little bit. They threatened to disown her and actually kicked her out before they finally came to their senses.’
‘Her nan didn’t mention any of this,’ Ramouter said.
‘They described her as a good girl. They wouldn’t want to taint her image. Where are Zoe’s parents?’ Henley said, and then mentally kicked herself for not thinking to ask Ndidi when they were at the house. She had allowed Ndidi’s grief to distract her.
‘No one knows where or who her father is.’ Stanford flipped over a page in his notebook. ‘Rachel said that Zoe’s mum had her at eighteen, handed her over to the grandparents and disappeared to Canada.’
‘Kindred spirits,’ said Henley. ‘Kennedy’s dad died young. No mum. So back to Friday night.’
‘Her shift finished at 6 p.m. but she didn’t sign out until 10.08 p.m. As we know, the NHS is short-staffed. Security cameras show her leaving the high dependency unit at 10.17 p.m. and she leaves the building at 10.32 p.m.’
‘Her grandfather said that he went to the hospital at eleven,’ said Ramouter. ‘Why would he leave it so long if he knew that she was finishing at 6 p.m.?’
‘Boy Wonder has a point.’ Stanford closed his notebook and threw it onto his desk. ‘You’re going to ask me to have a word with her grandfather, aren’t you?’
Henley smiled. ‘And the uncle. Bring them in if you have to. Voluntary interview. See if you can pin them down on exactly what they were doing from 6 p.m.’
‘Will do. But there’s one other thing. Rachel said that two weeks before she went missing, Zoe had arrived at work very upset. Crying, shaking, the works.’
‘What happened?’ Ramouter asked.
‘According to Rachel, Zoe told her that a man had grabbed her and called her a bitch. He told her that she had ruined his life. A couple of days later the same man was seen outside the hospital.’
‘Did she report it?’ asked Henley.
‘Rachel isn’t sure if Zoe called the police, but she did report it to hospital security.’
Henley’s confidence grew. They were getting somewhere. Promises wouldn’t be broken.
‘But what about the symbols on her body? We’re not just ignoring that this may be connected to Olivier in some way?’ asked Eastwood.
‘If we were only dealing with chopped-up bodies, I would have said no, but with the branding…’ Henley’s voice trailed off.
‘I don’t like where there is going,’ said Pellacia.
‘We have to look at the possibility of our victims having links to Olivier or to his seven victims.’
‘What could the link be? Olivier already got his revenge when he went on his murder spree,’ said Eastwood.
‘Why did he want revenge?’ asked Ramouter.
‘Olivier joined the army when he was nineteen,’ Eastwood explained. ‘He was a walking cliché.’ She ticked each item off her fingers. ‘Parents couldn’t handle him. Expelled from school. Moved from foster home to foster home. Put into care and then kicked out at eighteen with a cheque for two grand and no clue what to do with his life. So, Olivier joins the army. Six months later he is raped. The army doctor said that it was one of the worst cases she had seen.’
Henley leaned forward on her desk, grateful that Eastwood was telling the story.
‘What did she mean by “worst case”?’ Ramouter asked.
‘He was gang-raped. They used a broom handle and a broken glass bottle as well as their dicks. Olivier was in hospital for six weeks.’
‘Shit.’
‘He reported it. Named his six attackers. Adrian Flynn, Toby Kendrick, Jeremy Hicks, Gary Forde, Richard Lewis and Alastair Nash. All members of his squad. There was a court martial which lasted twelve days. All six of them were cleared. Fast forward eighteen years and Sergeant Adrian Flynn is accused of rape by a civilian. Again, he’s acquitted and three months later Olivier hacks him into pieces and scatters him along the A2 between the Sun in the Sands roundabout and the Kidbrooke turn-off. Two weeks after that Tony Kendrick is found in pieces under a railway arch in Lewisham—’
‘Well, this is bloody depressing,’ said Stanford. ‘Is it too early for the pub?’
‘I might join you,’ said Pellacia. The air was warm, but heavy. There was a stillness in the room as though they were sitting in the eye of a storm.
‘Olivier killed every single one of his attackers,’ Eastwood continued. ‘And he would have killed the prosecutor and the
judge who presided over the court martial if Henley hadn’t stopped him.’
‘You said that he killed all of his attackers, but there were seven victims. Who was number seven?’ asked Ramouter.
‘We have absolutely no idea. Olivier refused to tell us.’
Henley blinked away the memories and turned her attention back to the room. ‘The branding on the body means that it’s more than just a coincidence, but it also means that we’re not dealing with our usual killer. We’re looking for a copycat.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Ramouter as he leaned forward onto the desk. ‘Why would a copycat start now? Olivier has been in prison for two and a half years.’
‘They’re not the first,’ Henley said, staring straight at Ramouter. ‘Whoever we’re dealing with is calculating, and they want to keep us on our toes. Why else would they dump the bodies where they did and within one day of each other? And there’s something else.’
Henley looked at the ones who knew. Pellacia, Eastwood and Stanford. They all looked everywhere but at her. Trying to escape that feeling of old ghosts coming back to haunt them.
‘No one knew about this,’ Henley opened up the image of the symbols that had been cut into Zoe’s skin. ‘These symbols were part of Olivier’s MO. His tag. His brand.’
‘I didn’t know about that,’ said Ramouter. ‘The symbols. That wasn’t in anything I read.’
‘That’s the point, Junior,’ Eastwood said. ‘It was never disclosed.’
‘This was information that we kept away from the press during the investigation and the trial,’ continued Henley. ‘We’d already had two copycat killings before we went to trial, so the judge issued reporting restrictions. The newspapers went to the High Court to appeal the order but the judges hearing the appeal agreed that publication of the symbols would be prejudicial—’
‘How many people knew about the branding?’ asked Ramouter.
‘Everyone on our team at the time. Linh, Theresa and Anthony’s CSI team.’
‘Last time I checked,’ said Pellacia, ‘Olivier was sitting in the segregated unit at Belmarsh. He spends nineteen hours a day in a cell. With the exception of the prison officers and whatever unlucky lawyer he’s convinced to try and appeal his conviction, he communicates with no one.’
‘The bodies that have been found suggest otherwise,’ said Henley. ‘It’s one of three things. We’ve either got a copycat who’s a psychic, or it’s someone who was involved in the original investigation and the trial, or Olivier has been talking to someone.’
‘Are you sure that we can’t go to the pub?’ Stanford asked again.
‘Seriously?’ Henley snapped.
‘Sorry, boss.’ Stanford sat up straighter in his chair. ‘OK, who could Olivier be talking to?’
‘Someone with a direct line to him,’ suggested Ramouter. ‘Maybe someone he’s writing to? But what would be the point?’
‘Olivier is a narcissistic, egotistical psychopath,’ said Henley. ‘Maybe he wants to gloat.’
‘But what if it’s not him and he’s really just sitting in Belmarsh minding his own business and doing Sudoku,’ said Eastwood. ‘It could be a leak?’
Henley shook her head. ‘Doesn’t make any sense. Why would anyone leak that information now?’
‘I’m not talking about now; I’m talking about back when Rhimes was in charge.’
‘Don’t even go there, Eastwood,’ said Pellacia. His voice was hard and filled with warning.
Eastwood held her hands up. ‘It’s not like I’m speaking ill of the dead. I’m only saying what most of us may be thinking. Look, it’s just us here and we all know that Rhimes wasn’t an angel.’
‘He was a lot of things. Eastie, but he would never have leaked sensitive information like that,’ said Henley. She felt more protective of him in death than she had when he was alive.
‘You can say that, even with all the rumours that were running around? Why else would he top himself?’
‘OK,’ said Stanford in an effort to take the heat off Eastwood. ‘It wouldn’t have been us. What about the CPS? They’re not exactly reliable. I wouldn’t be surprised if some nitwit temp had dug up the file and left it on the Northern line. Wouldn’t be the first time.’
‘Look,’ said Pellacia. ‘What’s not to say that the murderer is some jealous ex-lover? Darego wasn’t exactly honest about her relationship with Kennedy.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Henley muttered under her breath.
‘Or maybe Kennedy annoyed the wrong person,’ Pellacia continued. ‘He’s got previous for drugs.’
‘A drug debt?’ said Ramouter. ‘His last conviction was when he was twenty-two years old. That’s fourteen years ago. A bit late for a someone to realise that Kennedy may have sold them an eighth of weed instead of an ounce.’
‘I’m just playing devil’s advocate,’ continued Pellacia. ‘From what we know of Daniel Kennedy so far, the only person singing his praises is his brother.’
‘Sorry, guv.’ Ramouter raised his shoulders. ‘The timing doesn’t sit right with me, for this to be drug-related.’
‘I agree with Ramouter,’ said Henley. ‘And I don’t think it’s a leak either.’ She understood that Pellacia wanted to cover all angles, but she couldn’t ignore the feeling that this would only lead them on a wild goose chase.
‘Most people who leak information are either doing it out of some misguided notion that they’re doing good or it’s all about getting paid. This guy, if it is a guy, he’s more interested in getting noticed. Standing out from the crowd,’ said Ramouter. ‘And branding the body with… What is it? A crescent and a double cross?’
Pellacia nodded.
‘That’s definitely going to make him stand out.’
Chapter 15
‘He’s bit of a bright spark, isn’t he?’ said Pellacia, closing his office door.
‘He’s asking the right questions,’ Henley answered. ‘But it’s still early days.’
‘It’s been two days. Well, actually’ – Pellacia checked his watch – ‘two days, eight hours and forty-two minutes since you’ve been on this case as an SIO.’
She sat down. ‘Have you called me in here for a check-up?’
‘Don’t say it like that. One, I’m doing my job and two, don’t you think that I would rather be out there than in here? I did hear what you said. Calling me ridiculous.’
Henley tried to ignore the hurt in Pellacia’s tone. She didn’t answer. Her mind flashed back to those late-night conversations in bed, where Pellacia had talked about his career ambitions. Now he had the face of a man who had reached for the largest orange in the tree, only to realise the fruit was bitter.
‘What is it about her?’ Pellacia asked.
‘About who?’
‘The girl. Uzomamaka Darego. Zoe.’
Henley thought about lying to him. To fob him off with the usual line of just wanting to do a good job, but Pellacia knew her too well.
‘Zoe reminds me of her,’ Henley admitted. ‘Melissa Gyimah. I’ve told you about her.’
‘The girl who went missing from your school?’
‘She didn’t just go to my school. I grew up with her. She lived in the flats across the road from my house. The police didn’t bother and the press didn’t bat an eyelid until a 15-year-old white girl went missing. Her face was everywhere. All over the papers, all over the news, but Melissa, we had to do it all ourselves. We were the ones who looked for her and put posters up, and nine months later, I found her.’
‘In the river,’ Pellacia said softly. He knew the story.
‘Zoe reminds me of her, that’s all. Someone dumped her like rubbish. Melissa’s killer was never caught. I don’t want that for Zoe’s family or for Kennedy’s.’
‘It won’t happen.’ Pellacia stepped forward as if he wanted to hug Henley but put his hands in his pockets instead. ‘How have you been otherwise?’
Henley watched Pellacia carefully, trying to work out if he was askin
g about her professionally or personally. They had blurred the lines so long ago that she could never really tell.
‘Work,’ she said slowly and precisely. ‘It’s fine. What more can I say about working a double murder investigation? The victims’ families, both of them, seem genuine, but you know what families are like; lots of buried secrets.’
‘And nothing stays buried forever. Secrets have a way of coming out.’
‘Like the branding. The symbols.’ Henley picked up a packet of yellow Post-it notes from the desk, turning it over in her hands. ‘We kept that a secret and now… someone knows.’
‘Benefit of the doubt… It could be a coincidence.’
Henley smiled tightly. ‘We both know that it’s not. Someone has talked. We just need to work out who, which means that I need to see Olivier.’
‘Excuse me. Why? You know what, don’t answer that. For fuck’s sake. There must be another way.’
‘There isn’t. I won’t lie, I’d rather not be seeing him, but I don’t think that I’ve got much of a choice. Someone is using his MO right down to carving his symbols into the bodies.’
Pellacia turned his back and picked up the phone.
‘Stephen, don’t turn your back on me. What are you doing?’
‘What you’ve asked me to. I’m calling the prison liaison officer, whoever the fuck that is.’
‘This can’t wait.’
‘I know. If I can’t get you in there tonight, then one way or another, you’re seeing him tomorrow morning.’
Henley ran hard. She could see him just in front of her, sprinting across the heath. She could hear Pellacia’s voice shouting out, ‘Stop! Police!’ Sharp jolts of pain shot down her shins, but she ran faster, ignoring the metal rings of the handcuffs banging against her ribs. She lost him for just a second as her breathing grew more rapid. The exhaust fumes pushed down her throat, when suddenly he stopped, turned towards her and ran—
‘No, no, no, no,’ Henley murmured before she jolted awake. The back of her vest was soaked and clung to the cotton sheet under her. Sweat rivered between her breasts. She tried to kick off the bedsheets entangled in her legs. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see Rob lying on his back, mouth slightly open, snoring and oblivious to her anxiety. The green digits on the clock on the bedside table flashed to 3.48 a.m.
The Jigsaw Man Page 7
