Dead to Me: A serial killer thriller (Detective Kate Matthews Crime Thriller Series Book 1)

by Stephen Edger

  ‘Fourth question, when: try and narrow down the window of when he broke in and when he abducted Eleanor. I saw her in court on Monday, so start your search from Monday night. CCTV might give us a picture of our killer’s face, but the city is covered in cameras, and we need to narrow down both the time and location that he struck. Dr Temple said a death like this would have taken several hours and sittings, so what was our killer doing in between? Was he watching his victim?

  ‘Now we come to the most important question, because it’ll determine whether our killer is likely to strike again, and that question is why: why did he choose Eleanor Jacobs? Does he have a connection to the victim? Why did he choose to kill her at an abandoned pub? Or is it not random? Does our killer or the victim have a connection with the place? Why now? What happened to drive our killer to attack? Is this the first time he’s done something like this, or has he tried before? Review recent unsolved assault cases and see if any similarities crop up. Why yesterday? Is there something significant about that date?’

  Kate glanced up and saw the supe leaning against the door, arms crossed but the hint of a smile creeping into the corners of his mouth. He gave her a quick nod and left.

  Laura raised her hand. ‘Ma’am? Why did he cover her eyes? If he planned to kill her, what did it matter if she saw what he looked like?’

  Kate pointed at her, and made eye contact with the rest of the team. ‘This is the kind of thinking we need to be doing. We need to get inside our killer’s head. Everything he did in the last forty-eight hours is a clue to who he is. The reason he chose the pub; the reason he chose Eleanor; the reason he force-fed her; it all points to who he is. And we need to find him. For Eleanor’s sake. For her family’s sake. And for the sake of other vulnerable people out there who this killer might target next. Something tells me he isn’t finished yet.’

  26

  The excitement of determining which lines of enquiry to follow and the endless list of possibilities always got her blood pumping. Charged as she was, Kate could have easily remained in the office all night working on the case but she had to collect Chloe from the childminder, who’d already left a number of voice messages by the time the taxi pulled up outside the house.

  ‘I’ll be five minutes,’ she told the driver. ‘I just need to collect my daughter and then we’ll be on our way.’

  ‘You pay now,’ he demanded, his accent foreign, but from where she couldn’t determine.

  ‘If I pay now, you’ll wait? My house is still a couple of miles away and I don’t want to have to wait for another cab at this time.’

  ‘You pay now,’ he repeated.

  Kate showed him her warrant card. ‘Look, I’m a detective. Police. Okay? I’m not going to run off without paying. You can trust me.’

  He looked from the identification to her face. ‘You real cop?’

  ‘Yes, I’m a real detective. Please, I’ve only got twenty pounds. It’s all yours if you just wait for me to collect my daughter.’

  She couldn’t tell if he’d understood, but he nodded and unlocked the rear doors. Kate opened the door closest to the kerb, leaving it open for safe measure and jogged two houses down and up the path, before ringing the doorbell. It was answered a minute later. The folded arms and disapproving look told Kate exactly what Mrs Gillespie thought about her timekeeping.

  ‘I’m so sorry I’m late,’ Kate began. ‘It won’t happen again, I promise.’

  ‘Not only are you late, you didn’t return any of my calls.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry. My job is, well, it’s not easy to answer the phone in the middle of the day.’

  The woman sighed. ‘I understand that balancing work with childcare can be a nightmare, but this relationship will only work if you communicate with me. I appreciate that parents can get held up at work or in traffic on occasion, but would it have hurt to have called to let me know? I have my own children to look after too.’

  Kate didn’t appreciate the tone of voice, but was in no position to argue. She must keep her on side, she thought, if she’s to look after Chloe again tomorrow. ‘I know, I know, and as I said, I’m sorry. I won’t let it happen again. How was she?’

  She huffed. ‘That’s another thing, I don’t appreciate parents dropping sick children here.’

  Kate feigned surprise. ‘She was sick?’

  ‘That’s why I phoned you. She threw up all over the kitchen floor after lunch.’

  ‘Oh no, that’s terrible.’

  The woman eyed her suspiciously. ‘She didn’t complain about feeling sick this morning?’

  Kate shook her head. ‘Not a peep. Is she feeling better now?’

  ‘Yeah, I cleaned her up and put her in some of my daughter’s old clothes. You’re lucky I managed to find something to fit her.’

  ‘Do you think I need to take her to the doctor’s?’ Dread filled her; she’d failed again. What if it was something awful? Something she caught in the house, or brought home from work? He hands began to tremble beside her.

  ‘That’s up to you. In my experience, it’s probably just a bug. She seemed livelier afterwards, so it’s probably just one of those twenty-four-hour things kids pick up.’

  Kate tried to regain herself, to stop her mind spinning into the dark just like it had all those years ago. It was just a bug. ‘Am I still okay to leave Chloe with you tomorrow?’

  The woman cocked an eyebrow. ‘You’re lucky I didn’t have any other children here today, who could have caught whatever it is. The schools round here don’t finish until tomorrow. I have a toddler with me first thing, so you’d be better keeping Chloe away—’

  ‘No, you don’t understand. I’m a detective and I’ve just been assigned a really big case. I have to be in the office tomorrow.’

  ‘She could still be carrying germs from the bug. I wouldn’t want the other children to—’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Kate pressed. ‘You said that she seemed better in herself. If it helps I’ll take her to the doctor’s tonight and have her checked over.’

  ‘You’ll be lucky! Do you realise it’s after six?’

  Kate checked her watch. ‘And?’

  ‘Most GP surgeries will be closed by now. The best you’ll be able to get is an emergency referral if you phone the out-of-hours helpline, but I wouldn’t have thought she’s an emergency.’

  ‘It’s really important that I go to work.’

  ‘What’s your case about?’

  Kate’s usual response to this type of question was the standard: ‘I can’t discuss the details of an ongoing enquiry,’ but she knew she had to appeal to this woman’s empathy.

  ‘It’s a major murder investigation. The victim was a woman not much younger than you and me.’

  ‘Oh, what happened to her?’

  Kate leaned in conspiratorially. ‘I’m not really at liberty to say, but, he fed her to death.’

  The woman gasped and covered her mouth.

  ‘Which is why I have to be in the office tomorrow to make sure we catch him before he strikes again.’

  ‘Where did it happen?’

  ‘Not too far from here, to be honest,’ Kate lied. ‘Of course, it’s all under wraps for now. We don’t want to start a panic. But if I’m not there to coordinate…’ She left the words hanging.

  ‘Okay, okay. Listen, see how she’s feeling when she gets up in the morning. If she feels better, then you can drop her over again, but if she is ill again, I’ll be phoning you, and if you don’t answer again, I won’t have her or you back here. Am I making myself clear?’

  ‘Abundantly.’

  ‘Good. I haven’t fed her because I couldn’t get hold of you and didn’t know whether you’d want me to.’

  ‘That’s fine, that’s fine. I’ll fix her something at home.’

  The woman stepped back and called Chloe to the door. ‘Don’t worry about returning the clothes. You can keep them, or bin them, they were only going to the charity shop anyway.’

  Kate thanked her again an
d led Chloe back to the taxi.

  They arrived home ten minutes later, with Chloe hardly able to keep her eyes open.

  ‘What would you like for dinner?’ Kate asked. ‘I bought a few bits at the corner shop before getting the taxi. It’s nothing special but I have spaghetti hoops, bread, uh…’ She started removing items from the shopping bag, stacking them on the countertop. ‘Fish fingers, rice, eggs, cheese. What do you fancy?’

  Chloe yawned. ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘How are you feeling? Do you think you might be sick again?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m tired.’

  Kate wished there was some way she could wave a magic wand and make Chloe feel better. ‘Do you, um, do you want a cuddle?’

  Chloe nodded, so Kate crouched down, and opened her arms. Chloe stepped into the space and placed her arms around her shoulders. Kate rubbed her hand around her back; her little head rested on her collarbone.

  Kate breathed in the smell of strawberries from Chloe’s shampoo and relaxed for the first time in days. She could have remained there all evening, but her stomach growled. ‘Do you know what I fancy for dinner?’

  Chloe pulled away slightly so she could shake her head.

  ‘I fancy a fish finger sandwich, dripping with tomato ketchup. How does that sound?’

  Chloe pulled a face.

  ‘Have you never had a fish finger sandwich before?’

  She shook her head again.

  ‘Oh, my girl, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried one of my fish finger sandwiches. It’s my signature dish. You know, it was the first meal I ever cooked for your dad. It’s true. When we first started dating, I wasn’t much of a cook – well, I’m still not really – but he came to my flat for dinner, and the only thing I had in was a box of fish fingers in the freezer, so that’s what he got. He once told me that was the moment he fell in love with me.’ She shook the memory away, and stared back at her daughter. ‘Anyway, I’m sure you’ll love it. How about I run you a bath, so you can have a wash while I cook them? And then you can put on your pyjamas and tuck in. Sound okay?’

  Chloe nodded eagerly. Kate turned on the oven and put the fish fingers in to cook, and then led her to the bathroom.

  After dinner, Kate read her The Gruffalo, which she found in the rucksack Rob had packed. Chloe was gently snoring by the end of the story, and Kate had a little lump in her throat as she kissed her daughter’s forehead, and left the room.

  She didn’t want to listen to the voice in her head that told her not to get too close, that it was only for a few days. She headed to her own room to change, but froze when she saw what was staring back at her from the bed.

  27

  She remained motionless in the doorway, staring at the A4 photograph on her pillow. Flicking on the light, she tried to focus on the curves and lines of the woman’s appearance, knowing she’d seen those eyes somewhere before. She closed her eyes and pictured the face, trying to determine if it was someone she’d worked with, or someone she’d seen at the shop earlier, or maybe someone she’d passed at the hospital as she’d left the mortuary. But no matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn’t visualise the face in familiar surroundings. But more to the point, how the hell did the photograph get there?

  It wasn’t there this morning when she’d left for work. And now that she came to think about it, she hadn’t made her bed either. But the duvet was pressed flat across the mattress and tucked beneath both sets of pillows.

  She shuddered.

  She’d left the house in such a hurry that she couldn’t remember exactly how the bed had looked, but it definitely hadn’t been like that. Her bed hadn’t looked so neat since the first time she’d brought her mum around to the flat to show her where she lived. She’d wanted to make a good impression that day, to let her mother see that she was a grown woman who could take care of herself. But there’d been no reason to make a good impression this morning. No reason, and no time.

  Her blood ran cold as she realised someone had been in the flat.

  She remained rooted to the spot, conscious of preserving any potential evidence of a breakin; although, as she’d been in every other room in the flat since her return, there was little point.

  Checking the other rooms to ensure the intruder wasn’t still inside, another thought hit her like a train. She spun on her heel, grabbed her keys and left the flat, making sure the door was closed behind her. She tore up the stairs and banged her hand against Trish’s door. There was no answer from within.

  She pressed her ear against the door. ‘Trish? It’s Kate. Are you home?’ She listened for any sound, but there was only silence. She banged her hand against the door, harder this time. ‘Trish?’

  Still no response. Kate knew she wasn’t supposed to be back until Saturday night but, if she wasn’t here, then who had been in her flat?

  She returned and double-locked the door behind her, heading for the spare room. Inside, Chloe was still breathing gently, lost in a world of make-believe. She knelt by the bed and softly shook her arm. ‘Chloe? It’s Kate, I need you to wake up, sweetie.’

  Chloe murmured something.

  ‘Sweetie, I need you to wake up. I need to ask you a question.’ She raised her voice. ‘Chloe.’

  Chloe’s hand reached up to her eyes and she rubbed them open. ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Hi, sweetie. I’m sorry to wake you up, but I need you to follow me to my room. Can you do that for me? As soon as we’re done you can come back to bed. Okay?’

  Chloe yawned wearily as she nodded and pushed the duvet back. Kate took her hand and led her out to the hallway and along to her own room. Chloe’s eyes were half closed, protecting her from the glare of the hallway light.

  Kate lifted her up so she’d have a better view of what was on the bed. ‘Can you see the photograph on my bed?’

  She yawned. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Did you put the photograph there?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I need you to tell me the truth, Chloe. Did you put that photograph on my bed?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Listen, sweetie, I won’t be cross. Listen to my voice: I’m not angry, I just want you to tell me if you’ve ever seen that picture before, and if you put it on my bed. You’re not in any trouble.’

  ‘I haven’t seen it before.’

  ‘Okay. And did you make my bed before we left this morning?’

  She screwed up her face. ‘No.’

  ‘So, you didn’t make my bed look nice or put the photograph on it?’

  ‘No. Can I go back to bed now?’

  Kate carried her back, and tucked her in. She closed the door, and slowly retraced her steps from when they’d arrived home.

  They’d come in, and she’d left Chloe’s bag of toys by the door, so she’d remember to take it with them when they went to Mrs Gillespie’s in the morning. Then they’d gone into the kitchen and she’d emptied the shopping bag, and then they’d both gone to the bathroom and she’d run a bath. She’d lifted Chloe in and checked the food, before checking emails on her phone. Then she’d collected Chloe from the bath and dressed her in the spare room. They’d eaten in the kitchen and then she’d read the story. The only time Chloe had been out of her sight since they’d returned was when she’d been splashing about in the bath. There was no way Chloe could have snuck out of the bath and got to Kate’s room without her noticing.

  She considered her options: one was to phone for uniform to come and report the breakin, but they’d probably just check the place was secure and tell her they’d make a note of it. Unless something significant was missing, they’d be unlikely to send anyone to dust for prints. Even if they did, whoever had managed to get through the communal entrance and her front door was unlikely to have been dumb enough to leave prints.

  She stepped into the bedroom and snatched up the picture. The features of the woman’s face indicated she was of Asian descent, Chinese. Japanese, or Korean, perhaps, and now that Kate could examine the image up close, sh
e identified the clothes she was wearing as a blue nurse’s uniform.

  She closed her eyes again and tried to remember the faces of anyone she’d passed on her way to see Ben or after leaving the mortuary, but she couldn’t remember seeing a single soul. She sighed and dropped the image back on the bed, moving towards her chest of drawers, and inspecting the insides of each one, looking for anything obvious missing.

  She slumped onto the bed and stretched her arms over her head. It had been too long a day, and she felt exhausted. She turned her head and looked back at the image again.

  And that’s when it hit her.

  She seized the photograph and held it above her with her arms outstretched.

  She’d seen the face before, without make-up; without the uniform; with eyes closed; and with bruising around her neck. Kate was staring at a living image of the victim Underhill had been struggling to identify since she’d been discovered on Sunday morning. This version of the unnamed woman was smiling, held in a pose, as if this image had been taken for photographic identification.

  The victim was a nurse.

  It wasn’t a name, but it was a step closer to finding out her name. Only time would tell just how significant a step it would prove to be.

  She’d had no involvement with Underhill’s investigation, having been in court all day on Monday waiting for the jury to reach a verdict on what probably turned out to be Eleanor Jacobs’s last win. In fact, the first Kate had heard anything about the victim had been in DSI Williams’s office when Underhill had tried to justify his need for more than half the unit to support his enquiry on Tuesday.