“You’re driving like a complete maniac!”
Chad went to argue, then snapped his jaw shut. Not just Martin but two angry road users said he was driving like he was an idiot, and he took notice.
Chad counted to ten and exhaled slowly. He took a deep breath, then repeated the same exercise, exhaling to the count of ten. Martin unwrapped his burger and took a bite.
“You’re reminding me of my wife in labor right now. Breathe in, one, two, three, now out, one, two, three. She asked me to wait outside in the end.”
Martin spoke with food in his mouth, hailing crumbs on the dashboard.
“Can’t think why,” Chad muttered.
****
“Asher, Tristram, Georgie,” Chad started. “Causes of death strangulation. Small alcohol consumption, no illegal substances in their blood. DNA evidence of the killer positively matched at each crime scene. No clean up, no concealment of the body. At Asher’s his DNA was mostly in the kitchen, Tristram the bathroom, now Georgie the living room. He left us a message this time, a grinning serial killer in the film Better Luck Next Time.”
“Kills them, then uses their homes how he pleases,” Martin sneered. “He mocks their possessions.”
“We now know Georgie left the Adam & Eve auction alone. It’s a fifty-mile drive from the city to Georgie’s house. Somewhere, she picked up the killer, and took him home.”
“I still don’t get that,” Martin muttered. “Georgie wouldn’t have invited just anyone into that car. From what I hear she was particular about her men. They had to be at a very high standard if you know what I mean.”
“I’m not sure I do,” Kate said.
“Rich, good-looking men.”
“Should I add that to the board?” Gareth asked. “Not only well dressed, but attractive and loaded.”
“Well for whatever reason, Georgie did pick up our killer,” Chad said, then shook his head. “We’ve driven up and down that strip, fields, woods, roads to different villages. The killer could come from anywhere, but there’s been no reported sightings of a man walking along the road, flagging drivers down. It seems like he appears out of nowhere.”
“A ghost,” Martin whispered.
“I don’t believe in goddamn ghosts, just sick, twisted people,” the DI spat. “We’ve had patrol cars traveling that road at night, but the killer strikes his victims months apart. We can’t spare the patrol cars; we don’t have the manpower to cover that road.”
“What do our victims have in common?” Kate said.
Martin laughed to himself. “Besides letting a psycho in their cars?”
“Asher had an interest in BDSM, and asphyxiation porn,” Chad said, “but there’s nothing to suggest the others did. Nothing in their search history, and friends and family say they had no enemies. There’s no suspicious numbers on their phones, or messages or emails that are out of character. It seems like the killer was unknown to them, and they weren’t worried, or concerned that someone was out to get them.”
The DI stopped pacing, then turned to the blank board. “They weren’t aware they were targets, and we don’t know how long they were on his radar before he struck. He’s managed to stay off CCTV, avoided the patrol cars. He must’ve looked at routes to their addresses prior, knew how to avoid being seen.”
Martin wagged his finger. “The camera outside Asher’s place had been smashed a week earlier, and Georgie only had CCTV on her garage. She left the charity event alone according to witnesses. No mention she was meeting anyone.”
Gareth nodded. “The killer could watch his victims for weeks, then strike.”
“All the victims went to the city that day. Maybe it’s not the road, but someone in the city, a place, an alley, a venue.”
“But where?” the DI said, swinging his fist at the white-board with the question mark. It crashed to the floor, making all of them jump. “Three victims, and we’re going backwards instead of forwards.” He pointed to the window. “And that pack of dogs down there are snapping at our heels, and soon they’ll sink their teeth in. We need something solid.” He turned sharply to face them. “I want you to go back over the CCTV, talk to friends and family again.”
“Yes, sir.”
The incident room doors opened before any of them could move. Zac panted, then held something up in an evidence bag. Something small and blue.
“Another memory card?” Martin said.
“I think we’ve got another sighting.”
“Let me see,” Chad said, taking the bag. He handed it to Kate, who slotted it into her computer. “Where’s it from?”
“A corner shop close to Tristram’s address,” Zac said. “The owner wasn’t sure it was anything of use, but after we revealed we believe him to be smartly dressed, he looked over his footage, and came forward.”
“4:30,” Chad muttered.
The camera was inside the shop, above the till, but it faced the window. The shop worker was sitting on a stall, on his phone. He looked up as the man walked past, didn’t spare the shop a glance.
“A suit jacket, shirt, and tie,” Gareth said.
Martin hummed. “Our well dressed, attractive killer.”
“Dark hair,” Chad said. “Carrying something on their back…”
“A rucksack,” Kate said.
“He saw the killer…” the DI said, gesturing to the shopkeeper.
Zac shook his head. “He doesn’t really remember.”
“Still, we need to bring him in, talk to him. Kate, can you get a clearer picture from this footage?”
“I can try.”
“I need to release it to the press ASAP. I need to write up another statement. A firmer warning.” The DI pinched the bridge of his nose, then pointed to Chad. “But first I need to speak to you in the office.”
“What? Why?”
“In here.”
He turned, flung open the door, then trudged behind his desk. Chad straightened his tie, tucked his shirt, and followed.
“Sir—”
“I had a call from Vincent Steel earlier.”
“Who’s that?”
The DI twisted around, and fixed Chad with a disappointed glare. “The man you almost killed while driving like a complete maniac. He’s making a formal complaint against you. Was there a reason for your reckless driving?”
Chad lowered his gaze, shaking his head. “No, sir—”
“So you put people’s lives in danger for no reason?”
Chad didn’t answer, which only seemed to annoy the DI more.
“I know this case is getting to us all. Christ, it’s getting to me, but you need to act professional, not lose your head.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m gonna do my best to convince Vincent not to pursue this, but Chad … best behavior from now on. Or I’ll be forced to punish you.”
“Don’t take me off the case.”
“I won’t. I need all of you, clear headed, focused on the case, understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Chad left the office, shut the door behind him, then sank down at his desk. Martin shot him a pained smile, and Gareth mouthed, “You okay?” from across the room. Chad nodded at no one in particular, and they both stopped staring.
He couldn’t keep a clear head when it was filled with thoughts of Neil cheating.
****
Chad twitched his nose at the smell of pizza. Neil was sitting on the sofa, knees tucked to his chest, munching through a slice of his favorite cheese and steak topping. He saw Chad, dabbed his mouth with a napkin, then gestured him over.
“There’s plenty left. And it’s still warm. You don’t have to eat it cold from the fridge.”
Chad didn’t move towards him, or unbutton his coat, or unwrap his cashmere scarf. He took a deep breath. Neil put his slice back in the box and waited.
“Where were you today?” Chad asked.
“I was at work.”
“You didn’t leave work for anything?”
Nei
l frowned. “What the hell, Chad?”
“You drove past me at Bean’s Burgers, near Felixstowe.”
Neil licked his lips. “Yes, I went to Felixstowe. Sean, you know Sean…”
Chad nodded. He’d met Sean before at a summer barbeque. One of Neil’s colleagues, he was intrigued when Neil told him Chad was a detective and spent the whole afternoon questioning Chad over his cases. It was a common reaction whenever he was with Neil’s friends.
“He lives there. He was off sick, but I needed some files he’d be working on at home. Why are you acting like this?”
Chad closed his eyes. “You were picking a file up from Sean’s?”
“Yes.” Neil closed the lid of the pizza box, then pushed it across the table towards Chad. “It’s all yours.”
“I’m sorry—”
“What exactly did you think I was doing?”
“I dunno.”
“I proposed to you. I want to marry you, Chad, and you think I’m off doing god-knows what with god-knows who.”
Chad unwrapped his scarf, then picked the buttons of his coat. He kneeled in front of Neil with the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster. “I’m sorry. It’s the case, it’s messing with my head. I’ve not had one like this before. The victims counting down, the cocky killer, and the lack of clues. I’m losing my head.”
Neil sighed, then patted the space on the sofa next to him. “Sit down, tell me about the case.”
Chapter Six
“He leaves two months between victims.” Chad said.
Martin lifted his eyebrow. “And it’s been a month since Georgie’s death. We’ve got another one before he goes for number two.”
“He uses his hands to kill. Then uses his victims’ homes how he pleases before leaving.”
Kate took over, pointing to a picture on the killer’s whiteboard. It was a picture of the road Asher, Tristram, and Georgie would’ve traveled. “They drove him along this road, took him back to their address where they shared a drink. A coffee at Asher and Tristram’s, but a glass of wine at Georgie’s house.”
Gareth stood up from perching from the desk and turned to the DI. “His DNA is left in the property. We know he’s male. We know he’s got brown hair. Size ten shoes. He must be strong to hold down his victims. Blood and skin cells were scraped from underneath Georgie’s nails. The killer has been caught three times on camera, once on dashcam footage while sitting in the back of Tristram’s car, his shadow was caught on the camera outside Georgie’s car collection, and most importantly, when he passed a shop window near Tristram’s address.”
Chad glanced at the image stuck to the whiteboard. The shadow of the killer, the phantom that followed Georgie’s shadow towards the house.
“We have daily reports of people running along that strip of road,” Chad said. “It’s a popular route for runners, and dog walkers apparently.”
The DI frowned. “Dog walkers?”
“We saw pawprints and footprints.”
The incident room doors swung open, and a man walked in Chad didn’t recognize. He didn’t recognize his face but knew what the badges on his jacket meant. The DI cleared his throat, but before he could speak, the man’s hand shot up in the air to silence him.
“I’m Chief Inspector Roy Orson, from Harlow. I’m taking over the investigation here in Berkshire.”
“You don’t think we can handle it?” Martin muttered.
“Three murders, no suspects, no witnesses. I don’t think you’ve handled the situation well at all. We’re special branch, come to bail you out it would seem.”
The DI sagged, and they all fell silent under the tense atmosphere. The Chief stuck his chin out and pouted. He radiated superiority and flaunted his power by staring each of them down.
“We?” Kate finally asked.
Smugness creased the skin around his eyes. “Yes, I’ve brought in some of my officers to help.”
“You’re kicking us off the case?” Chad said.
The Chief inspectors gaze snapped to him. “Not kicking you off, assisting with the investigation. It looks like you could use some help. With us on board, I imagine this case will be all wrapped up by the end of the week.”
“Smug bastard,” Martin hissed.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Good.” The Chief inspector pointed to the office at the end. “That yours?”
The DI nodded. “My office—”
“Not anymore.”
He strolled across the room and pushed into the office at the end. He turned back to them, then lowered the blinds. The DI’s eyes grew round and watery, and his cheeks reddened. Kate distanced herself from Chad, and she and the DI shared a conversation purely through facial expressions. The DI deflated, and backed away.
“Special branch?” Martin whispered.
“Well, we haven’t caught him, have we? Maybe a bit of help is a good idea.”
Chad stared at Gareth. “You serious?”
He turned away scratching his head. “It’s just a thought.”
“Save your thoughts,” Kate growled. “This is bad, a load of guys coming in and taking over. Bossing us about.”
The DI looked down at Kate. “I’m not exactly happy about it, but my hands are tied.”
The office door opened, and they all grabbed the nearest files and papers to look busy.
****
“So they’ve brought a load of special branch in,” Chad said.
Neil pulled a pained expression. “You never know, it could be a good thing.”
“What, that we can’t find the killer without help?”
“I know you like to be the hero, Chad, but you’re all on the same side really, against the bad guy, the killer, not against each other.”
Chad released a long sigh and pushed back into his massaging armchair. “I guess you’re right.”
“Your fiancé knows best.”
Chad smiled. “You know it’s our anniversary in a few weeks.”
“February 20th, like I’d forget.”
“And if you wanna do something special … go away for a night or whatever, I’ll need to give plenty of notice.”
Neil tilted his head, frowning. “What makes you think we’re going away—”
“Nothing, but if you wanna do something special, you’ll have to let me know in advance.”
“I will,” Neil promised.
He continued to look puzzled as he turned back to his TV show. Even though the rollers in the chair moved against his shoulders, and the seat vibrated, Chad didn’t feel relaxed. He tensed his body, pulling himself tight, aching his neck. He knew he’d end up with a headache, but he didn’t stop. The hotel card in Neil’s pocket had nothing to do with him or a surprise break.
Sweat pooled under Chad’s armpits. His neck prickled, and his heart tripled in speed beneath his ribs. He opened his mouth, ready to ask about the card, ready to accuse Neil of being up to no good, but before he could, his phone buzzed on the table.
He hurried to answer, to be distracted from the argument he was edging towards, but when Gareth spoke, his blood ran cold. He listened, making the odd grunt to say he’d heard, that he understood, and then he hung up.
“What’s wrong?” Neil asked.
“It’s the DI—Lucas. He’s in hospital. He’s had a heart attack.”
Neil’s mouth dropped open. “Shit, is he going to be okay—”
“I—I don’t know.” Chad got to his feet. “I need to get over there.”
“Take my car,” Neil said. “It’s faster.”
Chad nodded, rushed to the front door, and unhooked Neil’s keys from the keyholder. He didn’t put on his coat, or scarf, and although he knew it was cold by the mist on the car window and his breath fogging out of his lips, he didn’t feel it.
He drove in a numb trance to the hospital and was greeted by a pale-faced Kate. She hugged him, which only made his pulse go into overdrive. She never hugged him.
“Is he dea�
��”
“No,” Kate said firmly.
“Do they know what triggered it?”
Even before the word had left his lips, he knew it was a stupid question. The case, the killer, the countdown, it was always on Chad’s mind—
“I think the stress got to him. The constant hounding at the station, and reporters surrounding his house, and the endless articles. Then the chief inspector turning up, it pushed him over the edge.”
Kate led Chad along the hospital corridor, then stopped outside a view. Chad peaked a look through the door window and saw the DI in bed. He looked more dead than alive, and tubes were coming from his nose and arms. Beside him sat his red-eyed wife, Caroline, and on her lap was his sobbing daughter, Lucy.
“He’s asleep, doctors said he’s got to have plenty of rest.”
Kate opened the door, but Chad couldn’t cross over from the corridor into that room. He couldn’t stand there, and speak in a low voice, reassuring the DI’s wife and wide-eyed daughter. He backed away, clutching the back of his neck. It ached, throbbed, and he felt a headache kick-starting behind his eyes.
“I need a minute.”
She frowned at him. “What?”
“I’ll be back,” Chad promised. He rushed away, despite Kate calling out to him, and purposely got lost down the never-ending corridors of the hospital. He found a quieter stretch and collapsed on the nearest chair.
He couldn’t do the distressed families. The crying wives, the angry husbands, the shocked and confused children. He dealt with bodies, and killers, not domestic devastation.
Chad didn’t know how to handle it, what to say, what to do. He’d promised Kate he would return, but when he stood up from the chair, his gaze snapped to the exit sign. He followed the way out like it offered him salvation, but instead he walked into a familiar face.
Chad tried to move around him, but Simon Gear sidestepped into his path.
“Finally,” Simon said. “I called the police hours ago. This way.”
He tried to usher Chad back the way he’d come, but he refused to move.
“I’m not actually on duty—”
“Great, so who the hell is going to help me?”
“Help you with what?”
“They’re outside. A whole group of them. You need to move them along.”
One for Sorrow Page 5
