by Jack Probyn
Remember: my mum’s name is Ellie. Wonderful name. Wonderful person. Liam.
‘How sweet,’ Elizabeth said, closing the card and setting it down on the arm of her chair. ‘It’s from the guys at the station. Bless them. I didn’t know they’d given us that.’
CHAPTER 43
ON THE REGISTER
S lived in Bratendon Tower, a high-rise building that was part of the Ruthwell estate in the south of Stratford. The building was tall, narrow, grey, derelict and uninspiring. It stood out drastically against the flatness of the rest of the landscape. It was one of the focal points of Stratford and regularly regarded amongst the community as a shithole.
‘Someone would think people live there out of choice,’ Drew said. He leant forward in the driver’s seat and peered up at building.
‘You sure this is it?’ Garrison asked.
Jake had been resigned to the back and had given no argument. He was at the bottom of the pecking order and he knew it.
‘This is what Roland sent me, yeah,’ Jake replied. ‘Did anything come back on the PNC?’
Garrison pulled a laptop out of the footwell, opened it up and logged onto the Crimint – the Crime Intelligence System. It was a database that held information on every convicted criminal in the country. Name. Location. Date of the crime. Nature of the crime. Evidence against them. Sentence served. Last known address. Everything. It was like an encyclopedia of crime.
An image of an elderly man appeared in the top-right corner. His hair was long and thinning, his nose pointed and beaked. His eyes were buried deep in his face, the pupils a shade of deathly black. He reminded Jake of Danny DeVito’s Penguin.
‘Looks like the type,’ Garrison noted.
‘What does it say?’ Jake asked, leaning between Garrison and Drew’s chairs. His eyes struggled to read the text on the screen.
‘Give me a second.’
Jake waited as Garrison digested the information.
‘Sampson Decker. Convicted serial rapist—’
‘Rapist?’ Drew interrupted and turned back to face Jake. ‘Did he show up on your sex offenders search the other day?’
Jake shrugged. ‘I don’t think so…’ The truth was, he couldn’t remember the names, and he couldn’t remember following up on them either. So much had happened since then that it had completely slipped his mind. But he wasn’t about to confess that to them both; he didn’t want to add any more fuel to the performance notice.
Garrison cleared his throat, signifying he wanted to continue. ‘Says here he was found guilty of raping thirteen women in the space of a month in 1970. He was twenty-seven. He then served thirty years in prison and has been living on the dole ever since. He has biannual meetings with a therapist to sort out – and I quote – “his severe deviant sexual urges”…’
‘Christ,’ Drew said, thumping the window with his fist. ‘He knows that if he can’t rape anyone himself, then he can get others to do it instead.’
‘That’s sick,’ Jake said, ‘beyond disturbing. Shall we?’
CHAPTER 44
B-A-I-N
Sampson Decker’s address was number forty-two on the sixth floor. By the time they reached the front door, waiting for it to open, all three of them were out of breath.
A few seconds later, it did. The man they saw in front of them was not the same man they’d seen on the computer a few minutes ago. He looked older now, and far worse. His skin sagged heavier on his face, and his eyes were buried even deeper into his skull, covered by several layers of deep crevasses in his skin. Two tubes dangled from his nostrils and were connected to a respirator machine on wheels behind him. His breathing was heavy and raspy, and sounded like a dying Darth Vader.
Sampson’s expression remained unchanged at the sight of the three men standing outside his doorway. Perhaps it was because he didn’t have enough strength in his body to react. Or perhaps it was because it had happened so many times in the past that he was used to it by now.
‘Yes?’ he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
‘Mr Decker?’ Drew said, holding his warrant card in Sampson’s face. ‘We’d like to come in please, if that’s all right? Ask you a few questions?’
‘You got a warrant?’ Sampson asked.
‘Not necessary,’ Drew replied. ‘Just a few questions. That’s all. Won’t take up too much of your time. Not unless you’ve got something you want to tell us.’
‘I didn’t forty years ago. I don’t now either.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ Drew said, forcing the door open and stepping into Sampson Decker’s flat. Garrison followed behind. For a moment, Jake remained where he was, torn between leaving or staying.
As Jake teetered on the edge, Garrison turned back to face him. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We need you on this one, mate.’
That was invitation enough. Jake stepped over the lip in the door frame and entered Sampson’s flat.
The first thing he noticed was the rancid smell that assaulted his senses. It was inexplicable, like there had been a dog or a cat that had lived and died there… and was still in the property, buried somewhere beneath the mess and rubbish.
The four men moved into the living room at the end of the small corridor. Jake paused and looked around him. There was a box television in the corner of the room, resting atop a stack of magazines and shoeboxes. Beside it was a pile of CDs stacked neatly to the height of the television, and then a handful scattered about the place. Beside the television was an archaic radiator. It was boarded up and shielded by a wall of newspapers. There was an armchair next to the radiator, and Sampson claimed that as his own as soon as they entered. The old man struggled to sit down and was forced to use the arms of the chair for support.
‘Is this going to take long?’ Sampson asked as Drew and Garrison found seats on the sofa opposite. Jake remained standing.
‘It will take as long as it takes… S,’ Drew said.
An awkward silence fell on the room as they waited for a response.
Sampson smiled, which turned into a chuckle, then a cough. Globules of phlegm and saliva spewed into his hand and ricocheted back onto his face. He left them there to dry.
‘So that’s what this is about?’ Sampson said, after regaining himself.
‘Would you like to tell us what we want to know? Or are we going to have to ask you?’
‘The latter. I’ll waste your time like you wasted thirty years of mine.’ Sampson tried to speak fluently but it was too difficult. He was forced to cough in between breaths, and each cough sounded worse than the last.
‘If you ask me, that was time well spent. We managed to keep you off the streets for a very long time,’ Drew said. There was venom in his voice, and Jake was quickly realising this was turning into an assault, rather than a questioning exercise.
‘Mr Decker,’ Jake interjected, pulling his pen and pocketbook from his blazer. ‘We wondered what you could tell us about The Community?’
‘You already know, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.’
‘We want to hear it from you. You created it.’
Sampson said nothing. ‘I did not create it. It is the vision of someone else.’
‘Who?’
‘Long dead. You’ll never find him. A cell mate of mine. We shared the same views on things. He created it. I fathered it,’ Sampson explained. His eyes were cold and steely, giving nothing away. ‘You don’t scare me. I don’t have long left to live, gentlemen. There is no amount of damage that you can do that will frighten or shock me.’
As Jake opened his mouth to speak, Garrison interrupted him. ‘What do you know about Steven and Jessica Arnholt?’
Sampson slowly turned to face Drew, smirking. ‘There we go, son. A real question. You could learn a few things from your elder, here.’
He sniffed hard and wiped the snot away from his nose with the back of his hand. ‘They’re members. Good members. They’ve been a part of The Community for a good number of years now. One of the f
irst to sign up when I began the forum.’
‘Did you know they were murdered a few nights ago?’ Jake probed.
‘I’ve seen things on the news. Tragic.’
‘Tragic indeed. Horrible murders. Truly horrible. But you already knew about them, didn’t you? You’ve been seeing all the footage. So why don’t you tell us who’s committing them, and we’ll get out of your hair.’
Sampson looked into his lap and then slowly raised his head. ‘He was the first… The very first after I uploaded the website. Within twenty-four hours he was there, signed up and already paying the reduced subscription of fifty pence. Back then it was just a maintenance cost. I don’t know what he was searching for, but he managed to find me so quickly. And I’m glad he did. Without him, word wouldn’t have spread as well as it did. He had a tight network of people he trust—’
‘What’s his name?’ Jake snapped, growing impatient.
Sampson slowed. He looked around the room, pausing at each of them for a few seconds. Then he slowly lifted his skinny fingers and pointed one at Jake.
‘I don’t like this one,’ he said.
‘Neither do we,’ Drew remarked, keeping his gaze focused on Sampson. ‘But his question still stands – give us a name.’
Sampson sighed. ‘You’ll never catch him, you know? He’s managed to kill four already and you’re none the wiser about who he is. He’s too clever to be caught. And he’ll strike again before you find him. Of that I’m sure.’
‘What’s his name, Sampson?’ Garrison said.
No response.
‘Tell us everything about him.’
Sampson chuckled. ‘That’s a long story, my friend. How long do you have? He’s the best out there. There’s a reason he’s top of the leader board, and not just because he’s been in this business longer than anyone else. He’s smart about what he does and who he picks. But it wasn’t always like that. When he first joined, he knew nothing. He hadn’t even slept with a girl. He’d only ever had fantasies. He masturbated a lot.’
An essence of life and enthusiasm was restored in Sampson’s voice; it was apparent he was enjoying himself – speaking about his favourite subject. Jake thought it must have been because he’d bottled it up for so long. He doubted there were many people Sampson had to share this sort of thing with.
‘I took him under my wing,’ Sampson continued. ‘I taught him everything I knew. There were a few things I learnt inside prison. I passed those on to him. He absorbed everything quickly and put it to practice a few weeks later. I organised a prostitute for him. Later that day, he returned a man. But as the number of members in The Community grew, so did his desire. He became obsessed with coming top of the leader board. Besotted with the idea of being good at something. He never excelled at anything as a child. He never won any sports prizes, academically he wasn’t smart, and he never won the girl. So when he stumbled upon The Community, he was home.’
‘That’s some home,’ Drew retorted.
‘So why’s he killing people?’ Jake asked. ‘What’s changed? Why did he kill Steven and Jessica Arnholt?’
Sampson hesitated before responding. ‘It was his special Communion. He’d been organising that night with Jessica for so long. It was the time Steven finally let him fuck her. Before then all they’d done was everything other than intercourse. And when he got there, he found out they were going to betray him – he found out they were going to kill him. He had to get to them first. And he did. He sent me everything. And now he’s struggling to get rid of the taste from his lips.’ Sampson licked his own lips as he finished talking, baring half a set of black and yellow-stained teeth.
‘You’ve been telling him what to do, haven’t you?’ Jake said. ‘He’s living out your fantasy.’
‘At first, he was. But now he’s started down a different path – one nobody will be able to bring him back from. He got a flavour of what it was like to experience those things. Mutilation of a dead corpse. Necrophilia. The taste of human flesh. All of it. And now he’s trying to relive it again and again.’
‘Do you know where he’s going next? Do you know what he’s going to do?’
‘No,’ Sampson said.
Liar, Jake thought. He didn’t trust a word the man said.
‘You said he sent you everything,’ Garrison continued. He leant forward and placed his elbows on his knee. ‘Is this through the direct messaging on The Community’s website?’
Sampson shook his head. ‘We haven’t used that for a long time. He doesn’t trust it. Too easy to catch him. I told you he was too good for that.’
‘How then?’ Jake asked.
Before Sampson had a chance to respond, Garrison interrupted loudly and stepped in front of Jake, blocking him from view. ‘I wonder, Sampson. Do you have a laptop or a computer round here that we might be able to take a look at? Maybe even some picture albums where you’ve printed your favourites? I’d quite like to see them.’
As soon as he’d finished speaking, Garrison took it upon himself to turn his back on the three of them and slip out of the living room and into the hallway. Within seconds, the sounds of kitchen cupboards opening and glasses being moved about echoed around the flat.
‘Hey!’ Sampson said, struggling out of the chair, using his stick for support. ‘Get back here!’
Sampson left the room, panting.
Once he was out of sight, Drew reached into his pocket and produced three small black objects.
‘What’s that?’ Jake asked, confused.
‘Our evidence,’ Drew replied.
He moved about the room and placed the objects in inconspicuous places: on the underside of a lamp by Sampson’s chair, the back of the radiator and on top of the door frame that led into the hallway.
‘Wait, you can’t,’ Jake started.
‘Why not?’ Drew replied, focusing his attention on the arm of Sampson’s chair.
‘Because we don’t have a warrant.’
On the arm of the chair was an old Nokia mobile phone. Drew ignored Jake and bent down to pick it up. He started to scroll through the address book, nodding as he absorbed the names of Sampson’s contacts.
‘What are you doing?’ Jake asked. He leant across Drew and snatched the phone from his grip. ‘What are you playing at?’
‘I could ask you the same thing,’ Drew replied.
‘No. That’s it. I’ve had enough. I won’t let you do it. We don’t even have a warrant to seize anything – not if we want to be able to use it as evidence.’ Jake turned and pointed to the lamp by the wall. ‘And what about those? Have you got a warrant for those?’
‘It’s back at the office. This is all part of my strategy. Remember, I’m Deputy SIO when Liam isn’t around. Trust me.’
Jake glanced down at the phone. For a moment he wondered what sort of horrors were inside it. What sort of images and indecent messages and videos Sampson had been sent over the years since The Community had begun. But he wasn’t allowed to look through it, not without a warrant. Following regulations and procedures was one of the most infuriating things about being a police officer, but they were there for a reason. They helped keep the police accountable as much as they did the victims and witnesses. It was a double-edged sword – one that, sometimes, Jake wished didn’t exist.
‘What were you looking for anyway?’ Jake asked, finally coming out of his thoughts.
‘A name.’
‘What name?’
‘The name of our killer, genius.’ Drew snatched the phone back from Jake and began scrolling through Sampson’s message. ‘And there it bloody well is. Lester Bain. B-A-I-N.’
‘How can you be sure it’s him?’
Drew spun the phone around and shoved it in front of Jake’s face. A few inches from his eyes, on the heavily pixelated screen, was a thumbnail image of Jessica Mann’s mutilated and dismembered body. The sight made Jake feel queasy. For some reason, it was worse seeing it on the screen – as though the photographic image of her remains made mo
re real somehow.
‘We can use this,’ Jake said after Drew lowered the phone. ‘He’s complicit in all of this. Why don’t we arrest him now?’
Drew shook his head and touched the side of his nose with his finger. ‘Strategy, Jake. All part of the strategy.’
Before Jake was able to respond, Sampson erupted into the living room, waving his stick around. Over his shoulder was Garrison, standing in the darkness of the corridor.
‘Get out!’ Sampson pointed to the front door. ‘Get out of my house! All of you! You have no right to be here!’
‘We can show ourselves out,’ Drew said, setting the mobile phone down just as Sampson turned his attention back to Garrison. As Jake and Drew shuffled past Sampson in the door frame, he continued, ‘We’ll be back soon. Once we’ve found your little friend, we’ll be back for you.’
‘You’ll never find him,’ Sampson gave as his last remark.
All three men stopped outside of the door frame. ‘If we don’t, we know where to find you. That’s good enough for us.’
Drew closed the door behind them.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s get the fuck out of here. The less time I spend in this place, the better.’
As they hurried towards the lift, Jake’s phone vibrated. He looked at the caller ID and his eyes widened, his pulse quickening.
‘Sorry,’ he said, holding his hand in the air as Drew and entered the lift. ‘I’ve got to take this. I’ll meet you at the car in a few.’
Drew and Garrison grunted and then closed the lift doors behind them.
‘Liz? What’s wrong?’ he said, answering just as Drew and Garrison disappeared.
‘What are you talking about?’ a male voice said. ‘It’s me… Elliot.’
CHAPTER 45
UNEXPECTED SURPRISE
Lester had been in the property business almost all his life. It had been a delightful inheritance from his parents after he’d killed them. He’d received their empire when he was eighteen years old – old enough, in the eyes of the law, to manage the properties and oversee them on a day-to-day basis. And, since then, he’d kept the properties ticking by in the background. It was lucrative, and it was money he didn’t have to work hard for. His portfolio consisted of ten houses in the Stratford area that brought in enough capital to fund his camomile lifestyle – eight that the government knew about, registered under his name; two that were off the books, filed under an alias. The reasons for doing so were twofold: it was great for the tax, and it was perfect if he ever needed to escape the mundanity of life. But, in all those years since he’d taken over the business, he’d never experienced something as sudden as this: a tenant wanted to terminate his tenancy with immediate effect, and he wanted Lester to be there to finalise all the paperwork and inspect the property before he left. It was an inconvenience. Not only did it force Lester to spend time away from finding another Jessica – either online or through another pimp – but it also forced him to show his face in public during the day. And that was something he didn’t like to risk.
