SECONDS TO DIE a totally gripping serial killer thriller with a twist (Detective Claudia Nunn Book 2)

by Rebecca Bradley

  Dominic nodded.

  ‘And you want me to say Tyler admitted to me that he offed her?’

  Dominic nodded again.

  ‘But he didn’t.’

  ‘Samuel Tyler has killed multiple women, and my wife was murdered in the exact same way they were killed.’ No reason to make Lawton suspicious as to his reason for the request. Make it sound reasonable. Like a grieving husband wanting justice.

  ‘So you think he killed her too, no matter what he says?’ He tilted his chin again.

  ‘Can you do what I asked?’

  ‘What if I don’t?’

  ‘How many points on your son’s licence is going to affect his chosen career? Does he need to be able to drive?’

  Lawton leaned forward. His eyes like coal. Flat and dark. ‘You can’t do that.’

  ‘I didn’t see anyone stopping me the other night. Did you?’

  The bell rang, alerting the room that visiting was over. Dominic looked up at the ceiling as though he could stop the bell or extend the limit they’d been provided. ‘I expect you to do this within the next week, do you hear me?’

  Lawton rose from his chair and leaned forward in Dominic’s face. ‘Do you have any idea what Tyler will do to me if he finds out?’

  ‘That’s not my problem. You have to decide which is more important. Yourself or your son. I’m guessing your son.’

  Inmates said their goodbyes. There were tears. Children bawling loudly as though this wasn’t a trauma they were regularly put through.

  ‘You can always request a cell move after you’ve done it.’

  The inmates started to line up at one end of the room and the visitors at the other. ‘LAWTON,’ shouted a prison officer.

  Lawton stepped away from the table. ‘You’ve put a bullseye on my back, Detective Harrison.’

  CHAPTER 36

  They were weeks down the line and the press were having a field day as they were no closer to identifying the killer, now known by all and sundry as the Artist.

  The pressure from above was immense, and Claudia wished she could do something to resolve the case. But this killer was good. He had an awareness of forensics and took steps to avoid being seen by witnesses. There was nothing similar between the victims. Nothing that linked them. They didn’t attend the same gym or shop at the same supermarket. They weren’t friends with each other online, or even shared friends of friends online. They didn’t frequent the same coffee shops or bookstores or any other place people would gather or go regularly. The only link Claudia and the team could figure out was that they were creatives.

  Was this the one thing that pieced the puzzle together? Bearing in mind the killer was called the Artist.

  Claudia leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling.

  Russ knocked on the door and entered without waiting for a response. He knew her well enough to sense what mood she was in, and she could tell he was here to chivvy her up.

  In his hands was a white plastic fan. ‘I thought this might help the brain cells get more comfortable.’ He dumped it on the floor near a wall socket and plugged it in. Immediately the blades of the machine whirred and air slowly circulated. Not that Claudia could feel it from behind her desk. It wasn’t the largest fan she’d seen, but she was grateful for the sentiment.

  Russ saw her face. ‘No good?’ He frowned. Looked around the room for another socket closer to her.

  ‘It’s fine.’ She didn’t need to be cooler. Obviously it would improve her mood because it was getting pretty unbearable, but the important thing was the case. If anything was going to help her, a break in the investigation was it.

  Russ completely ignored her, pulled the plug from the socket and jumped up with the plastic fan in his hands, moving closer to the desk, walking around it, searching for an empty socket to use. Then he bent down and peered under her desk.

  Claudia crossed her ankles. She wasn’t wearing a skirt, but the suddenness of his action had startled her.

  Russ apologised and she waved it away.

  Beneath the desk was an extension where her computer was plugged in. There was an empty socket.

  ‘Aha!’ He pushed the plug in and dumped the fan on the desk. Again it whirred into life.

  Corners of paperwork lifted as if about to take off. Claudia and Russ watched, ready to catch any that whipped off the desk. But they stayed steady.

  ‘Okay,’ said Russ. ‘That’ll help you.’

  She stared at him. ‘Where did you get that?’

  ‘Oh, Ted, one of the caretakers. I gave him a bottle of whiskey last Christmas, so when I asked him if he had a couple of spare fans, he rummaged around the station until he found some for me.’

  Claudia smiled at him. ‘How many people did you pay off with gifts last Christmas?’

  Russ winked. ‘Just enough.’

  They both laughed.

  ‘I can see you’re going to come in very handy,’ said Claudia. ‘I didn’t know this about you.’

  ‘I don’t tell you all my secrets. Where would that leave me?’

  He’d cheered her up, as he intended, without even trying too hard. She was grateful for him.

  ‘What was on your mind?’ Russ took the chair opposite Claudia now he’d sorted out the fan. ‘It was obvious you were deep in thought.’

  Claudia scratched her head. ‘There seems to be a theme of creativity between the victims and the killer himself. I was wondering why that was.’

  Russ looked thoughtful.

  The phone on Claudia’s desk rang. She picked it up. ‘DI Nunn. Hi. Yes. Oh. Okay. I’ll be right down.’ And with that, she replaced the receiver.

  Russ gave her a questioning look.

  ‘The front counter has received what they believe is another letter from the killer addressed to me. It’s come with the rest of the mail, but the writing on the envelope is familiar to him.’

  ‘You’re going to collect it?’ They both rose from their chairs and headed out of the office.

  ‘There’s no point getting a CSI to examine it until we know it’s actually what we think it is, and we need to see the contents as soon as possible so we can attempt to track down the next victim.’ She made for the stairs rather than waiting around for the lift.

  She swore. ‘I can’t believe we have to play this game with him again. I won’t let him win this time.’

  Russ pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled the CSU, updated them on the situation and asked that a CSI meet them in DI Nunn’s office as soon as possible.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Claudia turned to Russ. ‘We can’t allow him to beat us, Russ. He’s providing us a head start with the drawings. We have to identify the victim. We have to do better.’

  She spoke to Steve, who was manning the front counter again. She was grateful he was on as he’d been able to spot the envelope.

  He bent under the counter and retrieved a white envelope and handed it to Claudia, who was prepared. She snapped on a pair of blue gloves and took it off him. Steve looked horrified.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘You’d already handled it. I’m a fresh set of prints that don’t need to be involved. Thanks, Steve.’

  She headed back to the stairs and Russ trailed behind her.

  Once in her office, she closed the door behind Russ and sat behind her desk. ‘Can you close the blinds for a few minutes, please?’ she asked of her second in command.

  He twisted the poles hanging down the sides of the windows, closing the slatted blinds and blocking out the incident room beyond.

  Claudia took a deep breath.

  Russ took the seat opposite her.

  Tension filled the small office space. They both knew what this meant. There was a new victim being stalked. Out there, currently unaware that they were hours away from their own death, that the police were in the fragile position of potentially being able to prevent it. They held all the power. It was overwhelming.

  Claudia stared at Russ. ‘I don’t know how to open this
. It should be left to a CSI, but we’re on a very real clock where a life is at risk. If we open this envelope, we might be able to stop a killer.’ A pained look crossed her face.

  ‘When I made the call to the CSU they said all their staff were out at the moment, but one van was about ten minutes away, if we could hold off.’

  Claudia looked to the door as if someone would suddenly walk through on demand, but it stayed stubbornly closed. Then she looked back down to the envelope, which was resting on a sheet of paper on her desk in front of her. ‘I don’t think we can wait. We have no idea how long, or ultimately, how short the timeframe on this image is going to be. So far, we’ve picked up nothing forensically from the envelopes and drawings. I’m betting nothing will change with this one. He’s not stupid. We should open it carefully, photograph the image and then leave it well alone for when they get here. What d’you think?’

  Of course, this was her decision and she would take the fall if there was any blowback, but right now, the pressure was building and she just needed a nod from Russ to dive straight in. He was her right arm.

  ‘You’ve explained your reasoning well enough.’

  Claudia let out a deep sigh, opened her top drawer and selected a letter opener. Tension ran through her shoulders, bunching them up to her ears. She wriggled them in an attempt to ease the pain that was radiating up her neck and into her head.

  The victim within this envelope needed them. And they were needed right now. Not in ten minutes.

  With letter opener in hand, Claudia inserted the tip into the corner, making sure to hold the envelope over the sheet of paper so it could catch any forensic debris that might fall as she worked, and angled the handle to make the cut. It was better to use the letter opener and slice along the top of the envelope, thereby leaving the sticky folded section intact, as it was possible the killer could potentially have licked it. Though it was unlikely.

  The metal blade slid along the fold with ease, and soon the envelope was open, its contents there for the taking.

  Claudia peered inside. A folded sheet of white paper. Claudia flexed her fingers and checked the door again. Again it stayed resolutely closed. There was no one coming through to do this the proper way.

  There would be blowback, but she was ready for it. This was important.

  She flexed her fingers again, then reached in and, very gently with the tips of her fingers, she pulled out the folded sheet, dropping the envelope on the paper she’d placed underneath on the surface of her desk.

  There was a loud rap at the door and Claudia and Russ both jumped. Russ gathered himself quickly and opened the door. A CSI waited with a black bag in her hand. ‘You have a letter you want me to process?’

  Russ ushered her in.

  Claudia hadn’t moved. The unopened letter, or likely to be a drawing, was still folded in her hand in mid-air above her desk.

  The CSI looked horrified. ‘You’ve opened it?’

  ‘It’s time-sensitive. A person’s life is at risk, and we can’t work out who it is until we see the drawing that’s in this envelope. I took a calculated gamble. If your supervisor wants to have a word with me about my decision then I’m happy to discuss it with him later, but for now can we please move this along? We have no idea of the time the killer has put on this third image.’

  The CSI inclined her head before snapping on her own pair of gloves. She ushered Claudia away from her desk and promised to work quickly.

  Claudia placed the folded paper down on the sheet she’d laid out and rolled away from the desk before jumping up and stalking to the other side of the office.

  The CSI opened up the piece of paper so it could be photographed and so the team could get to work on it.

  Nerves rattled through Claudia’s body and fired messages of frustration to her muscles. She paced as the CSI worked. Russ, on the other hand, was patient and still. The opposite to her anxiety.

  Eventually she was able to come back around her desk and take a quick photograph of the drawing that had been laid open for her before it was all packed away to be forensically examined for trace evidence.

  The CSI said her goodbyes and shuffled out of the office, taking the evidence with her for further forensic examination.

  Claudia transferred the photograph to her computer.

  They had the image of the next victim and the next location.

  CHAPTER 37

  As with the other images, it was beautifully depicted, other than the fact that they were looking at the future death of a member of the public.

  ‘What are they?’ asked Russ, staring at the image.

  Claudia bent closer. Narrowed her eyes. ‘They look like wings.’

  The victim, a slim white male again, was sitting in a chair with a pair of huge wings flying out behind him. There was no obvious sign of injury, no sign of how he was going to die this time.

  ‘It looks like there’s a house or a building of some description behind him,’ said Russ, incredulous. ‘He’s going to set all this up with the risk someone might see him?’

  ‘You think he has to make the wings?’ asked Claudia.

  ‘What else can they be?’

  Claudia looked at the image. ‘So he could be anywhere. There’s nothing in this image that tells us where he is. It’s so bland. It’s even worse than the previous one. There’s nothing on the person or at the side of the victim that tells us who he could be.’ She turned away from the drawing for a moment. ‘How the hell are we going to stop this before the clock runs out?’

  The time on the clock was 6 a.m. tomorrow morning. They had less than twenty-four hours to identify and locate the victim before his time was up.

  ‘We can’t do it, Russ.’ She rubbed her hands down her face. ‘This drawing is worthless.’ There was a deep urge to drag the laptop across her desk and sling it at the wall. She was sick of staring at the drawing already. The failure weighed down on her.

  ‘It’s not completely worthless,’ said Russ. ‘We could put the image out and ask if anyone knows the victim. The killer sent us the drawing, let’s use it to our full capacity this time. Yes, we might get some false positives, but guarding a couple of guys and keeping the right one safe is better than not keeping anyone safe at all and turning up at the crime scene in the morning.’

  She smiled at him. ‘I knew there was a reason I kept you around.’

  He grinned at her. ‘You mean it’s not my stunning good looks?’

  Russ could take this in his stride. He was happily married with a young daughter. His loyalty to his family could not be shaken. The gossip was that women had thrown themselves at him throughout his police service, particularly when he was in uniform. He was good-looking man in a rugged kind of way, and she’d seen him catch the eye of more than one youthful witness or victim of crime. He’d had to very gently put them right and get on with the job at hand, as well as report the interaction to prevent any unfounded allegations coming through the system.

  Claudia leaned in closer to the drawing on the screen again. The man sitting on the chair was naked from the waist up. He had long hair flowing down his shoulders. Claudia pointed at the screen. ‘Is that a tattoo on his chest?’

  Russ peered over her shoulder. ‘It looks that way. You’re thinking we can follow up on that? With tattoo artists in the area?’

  Claudia jumped up. ‘Absolutely. Let’s bring the team into this and get them working. We don’t have a lot of time.’

  She pushed her door ajar with force and Russ spun the blinds back open. Faces twisted to see what all the commotion was about. Claudia strode around to her laptop and forwarded the sketch to everyone’s email, then stalked into the incident room. Russ followed her.

  ‘Listen up, everyone, we have another drawing.’

  There were quiet pings from every machine as the email she had sent arrived. The team, understanding what the sound meant, scrambled to open it. They muttered curses at the sight of the winged, tattooed, seated man. Beautiful as it was, the
y knew he was dead in this image.

  But he was currently alive, and they were the ones who could prevent the image on their computers becoming a reality.

  ‘As you can see,’ Claudia said, pacing around the room, ‘this victim is tattooed. It’s quite unique, a skull with wings. Hopefully someone will recognise their work. As far as I understand it, tattoo artists don’t share images. Their work is theirs alone. We’re going to use that as our first lead to identify him. Make a copy of the image. Close-cropped, please, I don’t want anyone realising what this is about. And make contact with all Sheffield tattoo artists and see if anyone recognises their work. If we fail to make headway with this line of enquiry, we’re taking the image to the press.’ She let out a sigh. ‘We don’t have a lot of time. If you notice the clock, you’ll see it’s set for 6 a.m. tomorrow. We’re really up against it this time. Maybe he thinks we were too close last time. I don’t know. But it’s tight. You get three hours to trace him through the tattoo, then I’m going to the press.’

  There was a scurry of movement as the printer whirled into life and everyone printed off the drawing.

  ‘Don’t forget to crop the drawing down. I don’t want anyone knowing what this is to do with,’ Claudia barked. ‘And someone find the list of tattoo artists and split them up.’ She was talking to herself. They were an organised group and well aware how to work, though this was the first real case they had all worked together. They were good cops individually. That was why she had chosen them when she’d put the team together. But as a cohesive team she had yet to see them meld.

  Graham was at his computer, a look of pure concentration on his face. He was the one collating the list. He looked up, shock shadowing his features.

  ‘What is it?’ Claudia asked.

  ‘There are ninety-two places this guy could have had his tattoo done in Sheffield. And that’s if he even had it done here. What if he only moved here recently and had it done elsewhere? Or had it done at a favourite place in London?’

  ‘We can only go on the information we have and we can’t chase down every tattoo artist in the country, so we do the best we can and check with the local ones. Split that list up and you should hopefully get it done within the timeframe. I’ll consider extending it if we’re close to covering all the artists.’