by Sally Rigby
‘Good. I’m glad you’re still listening to me. You can’t be too careful. Is there anything you want to know about the case? How did you know Millie, exactly?’
‘You know what uni’s like. Far from six degrees of separation, it’s more like two. There’s a girl on my course whose sister lives in the same house as Millie. She keeps moaning about the police not having found the person yet. That’s why it’s on everyone’s mind all the time.’
‘What do you say, when they talk about the police?’
‘I don’t tell anyone you’re in charge of the case.’
She didn’t blame her. If she was in Tiffany’s place, she’d be the same.
‘Wise move,’ she replied.
‘If they knew, they’d never leave me alone, wanting to know stuff all the time. They’d expect you to tell me how the investigation is going, and I know you can’t.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Having said that, do you have any leads yet?’
‘I’d love to say yes. But at the moment, I’m hitting a dead end. I’ve got the DSI on my back, too, which doesn’t help. Something will turn up. Someone will remember something and phone the incident room, I’m sure of it. It’s what usually happens in these situations.’
‘I hope you’re right. I hate constantly looking over my shoulder.’
‘You’ll be fine, it—’ Her phone ringing interrupted her. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve got to take this, it’s work.’
‘Okay.’
‘Walker.’
‘We’ve found another body, guv. Looks like the same MO,’ Frank said.
Crap. Fucking crap.
‘Okay. I’ll be at the station in twenty.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Tiffany asked.
‘We’ve got another victim.’ She immediately regretted saying it as Tiffany’s eyes widened, and her face drained of colour.
‘Oh my God,’ Tiffany said.
‘Right. Grab your things. I’m taking you to Granny’s.’
With Tiffany at her mum’s, she could concentrate on the case and not be worrying.
‘I can stay here; you don’t have time to take me,’ Tiffany replied.
‘I don’t want to leave you on your own. I’ve no idea what time I’m going to be back tonight, if at all. It’s not up for discussion.’ She seldom laid down the law because Tiffany was such a sensible girl, so when she did have to be harsh, Tiffany didn’t argue back.
‘Okay, if you don’t mind. To be honest, I’d rather not be alone.’
Five minutes later, they hopped in the car, and Whitney drove faster than she normally would with Tiffany in with her. Fortunately, on a Sunday evening there wasn’t much traffic on the road, and they arrived in record time. She hurried up the path to her mum’s house and knocked on the door.
‘Who is it?’ a voice called through the letter box.
‘It’s me, Mum. I’m in a hurry.’
‘Who’s me?’
‘Whitney. Stop messing around.’ She was unable to hide her frustration.
The chain was pulled back, and the door opened.
‘Hello. I wasn’t expecting you.’ Her mum blocked the doorway, so they couldn’t walk in. ‘What do you want?’
‘Do you mind having Tiffany with you tonight? She’s a bit upset, and I don’t want to leave her on her own. I’ve got to go to work.’ She glanced at her watch, anxious to get moving.
‘Hello, Granny,’ Tiffany said, coming out from behind Whitney so she could be seen.
‘Come in, honey. Rob will be pleased to see you.’ She stepped to the side and Tiffany walked in.
‘Cool. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mum,’ Tiffany said, turning to Whitney.
‘Aren’t you coming in, too?’ her mum asked. ‘We can play cards. You haven’t seen Rob for a while. He’s always asking after you.’
She tried to call around most weeks to see her mum and Rob, but she’d been too busy with the case.
‘I’m sorry, Mum. Not tonight. I’ve got to go to work. I’ll call in as soon as I can. Promise. Tiffany, make sure you catch the bus to uni tomorrow. If you’d rather not go, then stay here with Granny. Is that okay, Mum?’
‘Yes, of course. Would you like to stay tonight, Tiffany?’
‘Thanks, Granny.’ Tiffany shot a puzzled look at Whitney over the top of her granny’s head. Whitney gave a tiny shrug. Why was her mum acting so strange?
After her mum closed the door, Whitney headed down the path, frowning. This wasn’t the first time she’d been confused. Perhaps she was just tired. Looking after Rob wasn’t easy. Whitney would have to make more of an effort. Giving money helped up to a point, but she would have to do more.
She couldn’t think about it now, though. She had a murderer to catch.
Chapter Ten
‘In summary, what you need to remember when you’re dealing with a suspect, is even if they’re lying to you, they won’t lie all the time,’ George said to the students in her lecture on the use of forensic psychology in helping the police. She hated the early morning slot, as the turnout was never good, and those who were there seemed half asleep. ‘Yes, if they’re guilty, they will lie in respect of that, but there are other aspects of their life they’ll tell you the truth about. It isn’t easy to lie, and it takes a skilled person to maintain the lie without giving themselves away. Read the chapter on lie detection before your next tutorial, as we’re going to engage in some role play on it.’
Role play. Was that all she was ever going to do? There’d been no noticeable progress with Millie’s case, and yet she still hadn’t been asked to help. Every day she’d been online scouring the newspapers for some news about the case, but there was nothing, apart from a bland statement from the police saying they were investigating lines of enquiry.
Her own investigation attempts had proved futile. She’d spoken to everyone in her tutorial group, and they knew nothing. Though why she thought she’d be able to come up with something tangible just from speaking to them was a little ridiculous. It took more than a few, well-meaning conversations to solve a case.
Why had Millie been chosen? Was it premeditated? Or was she in the wrong place at the right time? And as for Claire not wanting to tell her anything, it wasn’t like she was going to blab to the media. Claire was due to give a lecture to the new first years later in the week. She’d pump her for more information then.
She should leave everything to the police, but Millie’s lifeless eyes had haunted her day and night since she’d discovered the body. Even in death, there was a look of panic on Millie’s face. Her ending certainly hadn’t been peaceful.
She dismissed the class, and as no one stayed to discuss anything with her, she left the lecture theatre.
‘George. Wait,’ her colleague Yvonne called, just as she’d walked into her office.
Yvonne hurried into the office.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Have you heard?’
‘Heard what?’ she asked her colleague. ‘Who’s hooked up with who? And how did you find out?’ She grinned, waiting for the latest gossip.
Yvonne was the closest George had to a friend. She was a professor, married with two children. Her life seemed perfect. Except George had seen the occasional cracks. Usually over a few beers.
‘They’ve found another body,’ Yvonne replied, her face serious. ‘Eric told me. But not down by the river, like before. This time in the ornamental garden, beside the water feature.’
George’s jaw dropped. Another body. ‘Are you sure? Is it a student? What else do you know?’ Please don’t let it be another student I’ve taught.
‘All I know is the police are there now. I’m not sure who found the body, or who it is. But it’s bound to be linked to the first murder. It would be too much of a coincidence if it wasn’t,’ Yvonne said, her voice matter-of-fact, like they were discussing some usual occurrence.
‘If it is the same killer, they have to let me help their investigation. I can’t just sit back and do nothing.’
Yvonne was one of the few people who knew she’d discovered Millie’s body. She’d chosen to keep it quiet, as it served no purpose to let everyone know, and had only told Yvonne to shut her up because she’d kept asking what was wrong.
She grabbed her coat from the hook on the back of her door and slung her bag over her shoulder.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Yvonne asked.
‘No, thanks. Could you pop along to room four and explain I’ve been held up? Ask them to read chapter six on victims of crime, and say I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
It was a two-hour lecture, so she shouldn’t miss too much of it. She could count the number of times she’d cancelled or been late for a lecture on one hand, with fingers to spare, over the last eight years. Even if she was dying, bad choice of words, or ill, she’d always drag herself into class. She owed it to her students to give them the best education she could. But this was different. She owed it to Millie to help stop this killer.
‘No problem. Let me know what you find out.’
George hurried out of her office, which was situated on the east side of the university. She pushed open the side door and ran down the stone steps onto a path that circled the building. The ornamental garden, with geometrically shaped flower beds, and trees and shrubs on either side, was situated on the other side of the grounds. It was a lovely area, and she often walked around it at lunchtime to get some exercise and de-stress. The ornamental garden wasn’t a popular place for students, which was part of the reason she went there. She’d take in the different smells and vibrant colours, especially in the summer.
Her heart went out to whoever had found the body because their dreams would be haunted from then on. How long had the body been there before it was discovered?
She hurried towards the water feature. It was a beautiful stone structure with cherubs spouting water, dating back from the eighteenth century.
She’d love a cigarette, but the campus was non-smoking, though there were areas where people went. On her way, she passed a group of students huddled together talking animatedly. Did they know?
Finally, she reached the garden. It was cordoned off, so she couldn’t get any closer. She scanned the area to see if DCI Walker was there. As much as George didn’t want to see her again, Walker was the one in charge, so she had no choice if she wanted to find out what had happened.
She approached the cordon and came across two uniformed police officers talking.
‘I reckon it’s definitely the same killer,’ one of the officers said. ‘The victim’s body was in the same position, and her phone was in her lap.’
‘With a killer on the loose, let’s hope for lots of overtime. The wife’s booked us a cruise next year, and I could do with the money,’ the other officer said.
George’s insides clenched. Was that all it meant to him? Overtime. What about the murdered girls? What about their families? Had he dealt with so many murders it just rolled off him like they were nothing? The guy only looked to be in his late twenties, so surely not.
The police should use her for their recruitment; she’d make sure they hired the right people.
She shook herself. What the hell was her problem? They were doing a job. Just like she did hers. She should cut them some slack. The murders had clearly affected her more than she’d realised.
‘Excuse me,’ she called out.
‘No one’s allowed beyond the cordon,’ one of the officers answered.
‘Yes, I know. My name’s Dr Cavendish. I found the first body.’
‘Makes no difference. You’re still not allowed through,’ the same officer replied.
‘Is DCI Walker here? I’d like to speak to her, please.’
The officer clicked on his walkie talkie. ‘Is Walker at the scene?’
‘No, she hasn’t been here this morning,’ a voice replied.
‘You heard?’ the officer asked George.
She nodded. ‘What about Dr Dexter, the pathologist?’ Claire might let her view the body.
The officer sighed impatiently. ‘I’m not a message service.’ He clicked again. ‘Is the pathologist here?’
‘No, she hasn’t been here this morning either,’ the same voice replied.
‘No one’s here, Dr Cavendish, so if you wouldn’t mind leaving the area.’ He gestured for her to leave.
‘When was the body found?’ she asked, fully expecting them to tell her to take a hike.
The officers exchanged glances, looking like they wondered how much they could tell her. ‘Last night.’
‘Who found it?’ And what were they doing in the ornamental garden on a Sunday night?
‘We can’t discuss the case. You’ll have to speak to DCI Walker.’ The officer turned his back on her and walked away, closely followed by the other one who’d remained silent.
George glanced at her watch. Her class should have started fifteen minutes ago. Should she go back, or go to the station to see Walker? She didn’t want to be reprimanded for leaving her class alone for too long. But she couldn’t let this go. She’d vowed many years ago, after an incident that was so clear in her mind it was as if it had happened yesterday, she wouldn’t sit back and do nothing.
When she’d been at boarding school, her best friend committed suicide. Camilla was only sixteen. George had discovered her body. She’d panicked and totally froze, not knowing what to do. She’d just stared at her and screamed. If she’d acted immediately and given her mouth to mouth while calling for help, they might have been able to save her. George hadn’t realised at the time, but Camilla had still been breathing when the paramedics arrived. She’d died in the ambulance, despite all the efforts to revive her.
Doctors, teachers, and everyone George knew, had said she’d done all she could, and she shouldn’t blame herself. But they were wrong. They hadn’t been there and couldn’t possibly know. Five minutes was a long time when a person’s life was in the balance. She’d never forgiven herself and never would.
Camilla was the first person to call her George, instead of Georgina, and for some reason, it had never occurred to her to mind, even though she hated that level of familiarity. It was why, from then on, she’d insisted on being called George, as a private tribute to her truest friend. Her parents were now the only people who got away with calling her Georgina.
Reflecting on Camilla made the decision for her. She’d see Walker and worry about her class once she got back.
Her car was at home. She rarely brought it in as a protest against the extortionate price of car parking on campus. It was only a twenty-minute walk, and the bus stopped on her street if she didn’t fancy the exercise.
She broke a sweat walking as fast as she could and arrived home in fifteen minutes. She entered the kitchen and picked up her car keys from the glass bowl she kept them in. She tensed in annoyance. It had been tidy when she’d left that morning, but now it was like a bomb had hit. Stephen had clearly decided to cook his breakfast and not bothered to clear up afterwards. She was tempted to do the dishes and frying pan before everything stuck solid but stopped herself. He could do it when he got back. Though somehow, she knew she’d end up doing it. How could he live like this? She hated anything out of place and untidy.
Before she could change her mind about the cleaning, she left through the back door. The garage backed onto an alley way at the end of the garden. Opening the garage door, she smiled. A few months ago, she’d bought herself a top of the range, white Land Rover Discovery. She didn’t get to drive it often, mainly at the weekends when she hit the open road and put it through its paces. People were surprised to learn she was a petrol head. She’d always loved cars. After much begging on his part, she’d reluctantly put Stephen on the insurance, though she seldom allowed him to drive it.
The police station was on her side of town, and it took around fifteen minutes to get there, thanks to the light traffic. She drove into the car park, but it was full. Fortunately, as she drove back out, a spot had come f
ree on the street. It was only for thirty minutes, but she could always move it if Walker wanted to talk in detail.
She walked up the steps and into the station. As she stood waiting by the front desk, she shivered. Clearly, they’d dispensed with the central heating in reception. There was only one officer, who was on the phone.
‘I’d like to see DCI Walker, please,’ she said to the officer once she’d finished her call and come over to see her.
‘What’s it regarding?’ The woman was in her late forties and had an I don’t take shit kindly attitude.
She didn’t want to tell her, but decided she’d have to, or they might not let her see Walker.
‘The murders at the university.’
The woman leant forward over the desk. ‘You have information regarding the crimes?’ she asked.
‘No. I’m Dr Cavendish. I found the first body. I’m a forensic psychologist, and I’d like to offer my help to DCI Walker.’
The officer’s face showed no expression, making her hard to read.
‘Okay. Dr Cavendish. Here to help,’ the officer said while writing it down. ‘Please take a seat over there, and I’ll see if DCI Walker is available.’
Chapter Eleven
‘Ah, Walker. I was coming to see you,’ Jamieson said as Whitney walked out of the ladies’ on her way back to the incident room.
Crap. Just the person she didn’t want to see. He’d want a run down on the investigation and, so far, they had nothing. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. They had another body and an identical crime scene and photo on the girl’s phone. But no other evidence and certainly nothing enabling them to move forward. She hoped the killer had slipped up and Claire was able to find some trace evidence to guide them.
‘Sir.’ She tried to smile but suspected it came out more like a grimace.
‘Any leads?’ He stood in front of her, his arms folded tightly over his chest. He was a lot taller than her, and she had to strain her neck to make eye contact.
‘Nothing yet, sir. I’m waiting to hear back from Dr Dexter. Everything points to it being the same killer. I just want to make sure, so we don’t go heading off on a wild goose chase.’
