by Neil White
‘Go on.’
‘Killers like this get bored, because they spend all their time chasing the next high, or at least one as good as the first time, but there never is a high like the first time.’
‘Why is that good?’ Laura asked, confused. ‘It sounds like he’ll do something worse.’
‘No, they don’t, and that’s their problem, because how much worse can you do? So they taunt.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Like it sounds,’ he said. ‘They spice up the game by taunting, or doing something to raise their own profile. It adds an extra element to the game, and makes them feel like they are getting away with something.’
‘He’s done that already,’ she said.
‘And he’ll reveal more of himself with every message,’ Joe said. ‘Have you ever heard of Dennis Rader?’
Laura shook his head.
‘He called himself the BTK killer.’
Laura looked confused. ‘BTK?’
‘It was a title he gave himself,’ Joe said. ‘Bind them. Torture them. Kill them.’
Laura shuddered. ‘Sounds like a nice guy.’
‘By all accounts, that’s how he came across,’ Joe said. ‘Except that he got his kicks from going into people’s houses and killing them. When he tired of the simple thrill, he started writing to the police, wanting more fame. That’s why he came up with the name, BTK.’
‘Do killers do it for such simplistic reasons, just for the glory?’
Joe shrugged. ‘There are so many complex reasons that no one can ever be truly sure. All we can do is look at patterns and make predictions. Take Andrei Chikatilo, a Russian maniac. He killed more than fifty women and children. He was given names, like the Butcher of Rostov or the Red Ripper, but his motivation was sexual, nothing more. But then compare him to Alexander Pichushkin, another Russian. His motivation was notoriety, nothing more than that. It wasn’t sex at all, which is what motivates most killers. No, he just wanted to beat Chikatilo’s record, boasted that he wanted to kill one person for every square on a chess board.’ Joe allowed himself a smile. ‘He was convicted of forty-eight, and caused a real stink when he was told that, because it meant that he didn’t beat the record.’
‘So if killers are so unpredictable, why are you sure this person will change his tempo?’ Laura said.
‘Because it is all about patterns, and generalities, and best guesses, and he’s already started with the emails.’
‘So for him to carry on emailing Jack is a good thing?’
‘It’s the only link we have to him.’
Laura sighed and closed her eyes for a moment.
‘You sound tired,’ Joe said.
Laura opened her eyes. ‘I’m not going to see Bobby now, because I can’t leave here.’
‘Bobby will be okay,’ Joe said.
Laura didn’t respond.
Joe turned to look at the house again. ‘What do you think Doctor Barker knew that scared the killer so much?’
‘There is another more important question,’ Laura said.
Joe turned to her. ‘Go on then.’
‘Why today?’ she said. ‘What’s so special about today that made Doctor Barker act?’
‘Jack’s story,’ Joe said. ‘There must have been something in that story that spooked him.’
‘The one that we told him to write.’ Joe didn’t respond, so Laura added, ‘But the only detail that was really added was that Jane had debris jammed into her.’
‘Which means that I was right, that the method is not new,’ Joe said. ‘Doctor Barker was a child psychologist. He must be one of Doctor Barker’s former patients. If the detail about the debris was enough to make him drive over to Blackley, it must be something that the killer used as a child.’
‘And from around here,’ Laura said. ‘The killer knew that Doctor Barker would recognise it, and so he silenced him.’
Joe nodded. ‘It looks that way.’
Laura paused as she thought of that, before saying, ‘Do you think that the killer knew the doctor had been to Blackley?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘It just seems such a coincidence, that the killer is operating in Blackley but suddenly he panics and kills a doctor forty miles away. For all he knew, Doctor Barker may not have even seen the article, or even if he had, might have chosen to do nothing about it.’
Joe thought about that and then said, ‘What do you think?’
‘Doctor Barker was at the police station,’ Laura said. ‘The emails boasted that he would know if Jack spoke to the police. He knew about me and where to find me. There was something jammed into Doctor Barker’s mouth, and so we know that it was the same killer.’ Laura grimaced. ‘Do you really think the murderer might be a police officer?’
Joe looked at Laura for a few moments, and then he said, ‘I don’t want to think about that. I’ll go see if they’ve found anything.’
Laura watched as Joe walked towards Rupert’s front door. He spoke to someone inside, and when he walked back towards her, he was pulling at his lip.
‘What is it?’ Laura asked.
Joe looked up. ‘I think we both need a drink,’ he said. ‘There is no doubt about the connection now.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I know what was jammed into Doctor Barker’s mouth.’
‘Go on.’
‘A pair of knickers,’ he said. ‘A young woman’s knickers, from my guess. Small and with a pink bow on one of the hips.’
‘They sound like the pair worn by Jane Roberts,’ she said, and then Laura realised why Joe was scowling. ‘They are Jane’s knickers.’
Joe nodded. ‘At least I was right about something, because if he decided to use them to gag Doctor Barker, he did it for one reason: to taunt us.’
Chapter Forty-One
Adam Carter glanced around the house when he went inside, his hands thrust into his jeans pockets. He looked uncomfortable, his hands on his knees when he sat down, self-conscious.
Jack sat in a chair opposite. ‘Are you sure you’re okay about this?’ Jack said. ‘You’ve taken a beating already. If Don finds out, you might get another.’
He paused for a moment, and then said, ‘Yes, because I want Jane’s killer caught, and Don made it clear that he wasn’t going to the police. I’ve got to do this.’
Jack smiled at the resolve that crept into Adam’s voice as he spoke. ‘Tell me about Don Roberts.’
‘Not too much to say,’ Adam replied, and Jack could hear the bitterness in his voice. ‘He’s just a small town bully who fancies a shot at the big time.’
‘What do you mean, the big time?’
Adam scowled. ‘So you don’t know too much about him?’
‘It’s not what I know that’s important, it’s what you can tell me,’ Jack said. ‘I’m not going to go public with rumours. I need a source to quote.’ When Adam’s eyes flashed with alarm, he added, ‘I can leave it as unnamed, if you prefer.’
Adam considered that and then said, ‘He’s in the security business. You know that, right?’
Jack nodded. ‘I’m doing a piece on the rough edges of Blackley. Don’s name comes up a lot.’
‘And what are people saying?’
‘Not much,’ Jack said. ‘I know that Don runs a security firm, but no one wants to talk.’
‘Well, that doesn’t surprise me,’ Adam said. ‘It’s all a sham, just a front for extortion.’
Jack tried to hide his smile. ‘How do you know this?’
‘Because Jane told me.’
‘Did Jane tell you a lot about Don?’
Adam took a deep breath and said, ‘Yes, everything. I don’t like Don because of the sort of person he is, but he was protective of Jane, tried to look after her. He had money, he could give her the things she wanted. He wanted her to do well at school, and so he paid for extra tuition, things like that. So she was no rough girl from a criminal family. She was well-balanced, educated, clever, and Don didn�
��t want her to know how he really made his money, but she found out anyway, from things that she heard. She didn’t like it, but he was her father and she loved him, and so it made it hard for her, being well brought up but knowing that her father was just the local thug. I suppose you can imagine how it went down when she wanted to join the police?’
‘Was her career choice such a bad thing for Don?’ Jack said.
‘To Don, yes. He was expanding his business, building up his retirement fund. He thought he was about to hit the big money, had his sights set on one of the big houses on the top road that overlooks the town. Her timing couldn’t have been worse.’
‘How?’
‘Because he knew that Jane would do the right thing if she came across one of his henchmen, because she knew her career would be short if she covered up for him. It would only take one whiff of a leak and she would be out.’
‘Isn’t that what he’d want?’ Jack said.
Adam smiled and shook his head. ‘Don loved his daughter, there is no doubt about that, and I reckon he would give it all up to give her the life she wanted. He was just hoping she would change her mind so he could carry on.’
‘And he thought you were the bad influence, for making her think of the police?’
Adam nodded. ‘Something like that.’
‘So how does he make his money?’
‘Same way as always: intimidation.’ Adam leaned forward. ‘Tell me: what do you think Don’s business interests are?’
Jack thought about that. ‘Working the doors is what comes to mind, running a team of bouncers. He’s trying to squeeze into neighbourhood security.’
Adam nodded. ‘That’s right, he’s got to keep on moving, because the government took the money out of door work, made him go all legit.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Go back a few years,’ Adam said. ‘It was easy for Don to take charge of the doors. He had a bunch of thugs he would offer out to the local pubs and clubs. Except that it wasn’t really an offer, because if someone refused, they would just create mayhem inside. Fights would get started on Saturday nights, chairs thrown, tables going over, the police running in. They always seemed like cases of random drunkenness, but they weren’t. They were Don’s men getting frisky. And so Don’s men ended up on all the doors in town, the clubs paying over the odds just to stop their premises from getting trashed. Remember, this is Blackley, not Manchester, easy to take over with a bit of muscle. And then there were the extras?’
‘Extras?’
‘Drug profits mainly. Don Roberts didn’t touch drugs, but he touched money. The doormen knew who was dealing in their clubs, and they turned a blind eye provided that they got a slice of the profits. And if they got a slice, Don got a slice of that, so that Don controlled the club drug scene for a while.’
‘So what’s going wrong?’
‘The SIA,’ Adam said. ‘The Security Industry Authority. To be a doorman now, you’ve got to be accredited, and that means criminal record checks and courses. That ruled out a lot of Don’s men, and so Don’s influence on the doors weakened. He runs an agency now. If the clubs need a few extra bodies, they call Don and he sorts them out.’
‘So he’s hit hard times?’
‘Not straight away,’ Adam said. ‘He was into car clamping as well, and he stepped it up when the door staff went legal. Don’s men would hang out where they had put up their crappy signs and wait for someone to leave their car. As soon as they were out of sight, the clamp would come out. When they went down to release the clamp, the poor sod in the car had a bill of whatever was the maximum withdrawal on the nearest cash machine. It was legalised blackmail.’ Adam smiled. ‘The same problem again. The government is going to take the money out of that soon, and so now clamping isn’t the racket it used to be.’
‘And wayward shoppers aren’t going to be mugged for their money anymore,’ Jack said. ‘So how is he expanding when the government has forced him to cut back?’
Adam looked nervous for a moment. ‘You have to be careful what you print, is that right?’
‘The papers won’t print it if it’s libel, but if you tell me, I can decide that.’
‘Okay, if you’re sure,’ he said, wringing his hands, his tongue flicking onto his lip. ‘It’s footballer burglaries and estate security.’
‘Hang on, you’ve lost me now.’
‘It’s the same thing really,’ Adam said. ‘Take the footballer burglaries. It’s easy to figure out when the man of the house will be out, because you just have to look at the fixture list. So Don’s men make out like they are burglars and pay the footballers’ houses a visit, particularly during a winter evening game or when they are abroad. If you scare the lady of the house enough, she’ll want security, at any cost. Don would pretend that he’d read about the burglary and would offer his services. He didn’t do too well with the top players, but if you drop a couple of football divisions, you get the cheaper players who like the status symbols, like private security.’
‘What about the estate security?’ Jack said. He knew some of the answer, but he wanted to hear Adam’s take on it.
Adam sighed. ‘This is the thing I liked least, because it’s just squeezing money out of people who’ve got nothing, just an old-fashioned protection racket. You’ve read all the stories about the police not being on the beat as much? Or at least, that’s what the politicians say. People feel frightened, that the police are no longer protecting them, that it’s all about targets and paperwork.’
‘It can’t be that bad,’ Jack said. ‘Most anti-police stories are just headline-grabbers.’
‘Maybe, but people feed off those stories. How do they know that the stories aren’t accurate, because they’re certainly written up to sound accurate? What do you do when you’ve got the local idiots outside your window, taunting you, those rat-faced kids, all dressed in black, who never go home because their parents are rounding off a day of doing nothing with the contents of a stolen bottle of vodka, and the police don’t take you seriously?’ Adam gave Jack a sneer. ‘Unless, of course, Uncle Don Roberts is there to provide some neighbourhood security, with his thugs wandering the streets, checking on those homes who have signed up, chasing the kids from outside, all for a modest fee, of course.’
‘Isn’t that just the free market?’ Jack said. ‘He fulfils a need.’
Adam laughed bitterly and shook his head. ‘Do you think it’s that innocent? He creates the need. Who do you think is getting the kids to act like that? You see, there’s never a confrontation with the private security, because they know who is paying and who isn’t, and the ones who are not paying get it. Eggs at the windows, beer cans, shouting, tyres slashed. If someone gets CCTV, the cables get snipped. It’s fucking warfare out there, and it will only get quiet again when everyone has signed up to Don’s private security. Everyone thinks that he’s doing a good job, so even when the prices go up, families with no spare cash don’t mind putting some Don’s way.’
Jack sighed. This was heavy stuff, but he was wary, because he could see the bitterness in Adam’s eyes, and journalists had to be careful of one-sided vendettas.
‘And you know all of this through Jane?’ Jack said.
Adam nodded. ‘Jane used to talk about him all the time. She loved him, and felt protected by him, but she could never be proud of him.’
‘So what do you want me to do?’
‘I want you to write about Don Roberts, to expose him,’ Adam said.
‘Don’s lawyer has already asked me to do the same, but a sympathy piece to help Don track down Jane’s killer.’
‘So he can kill Jane’s murderer,’ Adam said.
Jack shrugged. He had already worked that one out. ‘I need proof to write an exposé,’ he said.
‘So get it,’ Adam said. ‘Walk around the estate. Find the houses with graffiti, or where the kids are hanging out. Ask them what life is like. Speak to those who are paying Don, if you want to make it balanced.’
‘It’s about Jane,’ Adam replied. ‘Jane would not have been on her own if Don had treated us like a normal couple. I would have picked her up, or Don could have driven her down. But no, we had to run around and keep our secret, and so Jane was walking somewhere on her own. How do you think that makes me feel?’
‘My story won’t bring her back.’
‘No, it won’t,’ he said. ‘But it might just make a lot of other people’s lives a bit brighter.’
Jack nodded and smiled, although as he thought about how Don would react, it seemed that with every interview he did, his own life got a little more dangerous.
Chapter Forty-Two
Joe was on the phone to Carson, updating him, when Laura saw her.
She was middle-aged, with neat grey hair and a plain wine-coloured skirt. She had been walking along the street towards Doctor Barker’s house, and, as usual, the crime scene tape had an effect. It had been draped around lamp-posts, blue and white stripes, and for most people, it was curiosity, a chance to gawp at something out of the ordinary, maybe a word or two with the officer standing nearest. This woman was different. Her hand went to her mouth, shocked, her eyes wide, and then she looked around, as if she was unsure what to do.
Laura went with her gut instinct. She tapped Joe on the arm and pointed towards her. ‘She knows something.’
Joe stopped talking to Carson for a moment and nodded.
Laura set off to walk towards her, and as Laura got closer, she saw tears forming in the woman’s eyes.
‘I’m Detective Sergeant McGanity,’ Laura said, smiling, trying to reassure the woman. ‘Are you okay?’
The woman took a few seconds to respond, as if she had barely heard the words. ‘Is it Doctor Barker?’
‘Did you know him?’
The woman looked at Laura, confused. ‘Did? I don’t understand.’
Laura cursed herself. She had given away that he’d died and she did not know who the woman was, although as Laura looked back towards the house, at the forensic suits and police vehicles, it was obvious that something serious had happened.
