by Sally Rigby
‘Hello, Whitney,’ her brother Rob said as she walked into the lounge. As usual, he was sitting on the sofa. He was playing computer games.
‘Hello, little brother.’ She ruffled his hair.
‘I’m bigger than you,’ he retorted.
Which wasn’t hard, seeing as she was smaller than most people she knew. Apart from her mum.
‘You’re right. Where’s Mum?’
‘She’s looking for her handbag. I didn’t take it. Promise.’ His face fell.
‘I know you didn’t. I’ll help her find it.’
Whitney left the lounge and headed for the kitchen. Her mum was in there, standing with her hands on her hips, staring at the cupboard.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Why are you here? Don’t you have work?’
‘You phoned and said you couldn’t find your bag, so I’ve come to help.’
‘My bag. That’s it. I knew I was looking for something, but I couldn’t remember.’
‘When did you last have it?’
‘When I went to the supermarket at the weekend.’
‘Have you checked your shopping bags? It could be with them. Where are they kept?’
Her mum frowned. ‘On the hooks in the hall where the coats are.’
‘Let’s go and look.’
‘You won’t find it,’ her mum said adamantly.
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I didn’t put it there.’
‘I’ll go and check, in case, and if I can’t find it, we’ll take a look somewhere else.’
‘Okay. If you insist. But it won’t be there. I know it won’t.’ Her mum pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down, her arms folded.
Whitney returned to the hall and looked inside the shopping bags hanging on the hooks. As she’d suspected, inside the third was the missing black handbag. She’d have recognised it anywhere. Her mum had used it every day for the last twenty years, ever since her dad had bought it for her one Christmas.
‘I’ve found it,’ she called as she went back into the kitchen.
‘Thank goodness. I really thought it had been stolen.’
‘Who would steal it? You don’t have any visitors, apart from me and Tiffany.’
‘The social worker could’ve taken it. You can’t trust anyone these days.’ She took the bag from Whitney and clutched it tightly to herself.
‘I’m sure she wouldn’t have. Anyway, you’ve got it now. Which shops are you going to? Would you like me to give you a lift before I go back to work?’
‘I’m not going anywhere. Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘Sorry. I can’t stop. I’ll be here at the weekend, and we can have a good chat.’ She kissed her mum goodbye and left, fighting back the tears which seemed to be on constant alert.
She forced her mind back to the case. The letter would hopefully contain evidence they could work with, so the sooner it was with forensics the better. She despised the victims for their abhorrent behaviour, but couldn’t let it interfere with her job.
There was a vigilante on their hands, who had to be stopped.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Fascinating,’ George said as she stood reading a photocopy of the murderer’s letter. ‘Absolutely fascinating.’ Wednesday wasn’t a busy day for her, so going out in the morning for a couple of hours to see how the investigation was progressing, wasn’t a problem.
‘Who do you think you are, Sherlock Holmes?’ Whitney quipped.
George stiffened as she glanced up at Whitney, who was laughing, and then reluctantly joined in. She thought she understood Whitney’s humour, but sometimes, especially when she was concentrating, it bypassed her.
‘This letter tells us so much about the murderer.’
‘Care to share it with us all?’ Whitney asked.
‘That’s what I’m here for.’ George grinned, pleased with herself for being able to join in with the banter.
They headed over to the board, and Whitney pinned up the letter.
‘Listen up,’ Whitney called out in her usual manner. ‘The local radio station has received a letter from the murderer. George has some valuable insights into the person who wrote it. Stop what you’re doing and pay attention.’ Silence fell over the room. ‘Over to you,’ she said to George.
‘The note is short, but it gives us plenty to think about. First of all, the murderer sent it to the radio station. Why?’ George looked around, waiting for an answer. It was like she was lecturing. She hoped Whitney wouldn’t pull her up on it. It always worked better when people could work things out for themselves.
‘Publicity?’ Matt said.
‘Good. Why do they want publicity?’
‘Because they’re making a statement and want people to sit up and take notice,’ Matt said.
‘Exactly,’ George said. ‘This is a statement. It’s also highly political. The person who wrote it criticised our laws for favouring property over people. They mention victims of certain crimes often don’t report what has happened. This is personal.’
‘You think the murderer has herself been a victim of grooming?’ Whitney asked.
‘It seems likely some sexual crime happened in the past. Or she knew someone who was the victim of one.’
‘Are we definitely looking for a woman?’ Whitney asked.
‘In part, the letter reads like it comes from a female. The use of emotive language, like I want everyone to know justice is being served, indicates a feminine voice. But at the end, I’m coming for you, is more masculine and aggressive in tone.’
‘Are you suggesting there might be two murderers?’
‘It’s a possibility, and one we shouldn’t ignore,’ George said. ‘More than one person could have contributed to the writing of the letter and to the crime.’
‘Could it be the work of a vigilante group rather than a single person?’ Matt asked.
‘It’s possible.’
‘Once we get the results from forensics and Claire’s findings, we should have more to go on,’ Whitney said. ‘Is there anything else on the note you wanted to comment on?’
‘Only that Lenchester is highlighted. Men in Lenchester should beware. This indicates a connection with the city.’
‘It could simply be that they live here and it’s easier for them to murder close to home.’
‘That’s entirely possible. Many crimes are committed in a familiar location. It makes disposing of the body easier. In this case, the bodies were situated in out-of-the-way locations only a local would know. But equally, they were not left in such a way they wouldn’t be found. Knowledge of Lenchester would certainly help in this.’
‘So aside from the vigilante group angle, where else are you suggesting we focus our investigation?’ Whitney asked.
George glanced at Whitney. Not so long ago, no way would she have included her like this. When they first started working together, George had been kept at arm’s length and only included when Whitney deemed it necessary. Now she was part of the team. An important part. It felt good.
‘As you said, we need forensics to help. I also think we need to look more at the social media sites both men were on,’ she said.
‘That’s a given,’ Whitney said.
‘Also of interest is the Shakespeare quote,’ she said.
‘What quote?’
‘“The wheel is come full circle: I am here” is a quote from King Lear. I believe it was Edmund who said it.’
‘How do you know?’ Whitney narrowed her eyes. She often did that when she was confronted with things of an academic nature. ‘Are you an expert on all Shakespeare’s plays, too?’
‘I just know.’ George shrugged. ‘Probably from school.’
‘But what does using it mean?’
‘The murderer is well read, and a bit of a smart-arse,’ George joked.
‘Guv, Dr Dexter’s on the phone,’ Ellie called out.
‘Transfer it to my office. Come with me,’ she said to George.
They
went to the office. Whitney answered and flicked a button.
‘Hello, Claire. I’ve got George with me; you’re on speaker,’ she said.
‘I’d better be careful what I say then,’ Claire said.
‘Hello, Claire,’ George said.
‘No classes today? You’re becoming a part-timer.’
George tensed. Was Claire intimating she wasn’t doing her job properly? That was absurd. Okay, her attention had been diverted, but the work she was doing here with Whitney was enhancing her work at the university. It was invaluable. As for being a part-timer, George worked every night at home, as well as going in early for work. So, if she decided to take time off here and there to help with the enquiry, then as long as her university work wasn’t suffering, it didn’t matter. And she resented the inference it did.
‘There have been no complaints. I do my job well. I always have.’
‘You know I was joking, don’t you?’ Claire said.
George glanced at Whitney, who was arching an eyebrow in her direction. Why did she have such a problem with social cues? ‘Of course, I realised,’ she lied. ‘I was joking back.’
Whitney snorted and stifled it with a cough. ‘What do you have for us, Claire?’
‘I’ve had the toxicology report back on the first victim. He’d been given a sedative. Also, he’d had some alcohol, the equivalent of one glass of wine.’
‘Anything to report on the second victim?’ Whitney asked.
‘Similar to the first, in many respects. The mutilation. The feeding of the cooked parts. Ligature marks. I’m waiting on toxicology for the rest.’
George marvelled at the way Claire could reel off these facts. Facts that would disgust most people. Yet to Claire it was a run-of-the-mill occurrence. Then again, if she got upset at everything, she’d be unable to do her job properly.
‘Had he been sedated?’ George asked.
‘I’ve already told you; I’m waiting to hear back from tox,’ Claire snapped.
‘Was he restrained by the wrists and ankles like the first victim?’ Whitney asked.
‘What is it with you two? Aren’t you listening to me? I’ve already said there were ligature marks. These were on his wrists and ankles and similar in nature to the ones used in the first victim.’
‘Cause and time of death?’ Whitney asked.
‘Suffocation, like the first victim. Time of death between ten p.m. Monday and two a.m. Tuesday.’
‘Thanks, Claire. When are you likely to get the tox results?’ Whitney asked.
‘When they arrive.’
Although they couldn’t actually see Claire, George sensed she was rolling her eyes towards the ceiling.
‘Other trace evidence?’ George asked.
‘No finger prints on the body and nothing under the finger nails. But there were traces of carpet fibres on the torso and head, like before. It’s a wool carpet with a twist, expensive. But at the moment we can’t identify the make. We’re working on it.’
‘Let’s hope you come up with something,’ Whitney said. ‘Anything else?’
‘That’s it for now. I’m busy, so I’ve got to go.’
Claire ended the call before they even had time to say goodbye.
George laughed. ‘Claire is certainly one of a kind,’ she said.
‘I’m surrounded by them,’ Whitney quipped.
‘If you’ve finished casting aspersions in my direction…’
‘Which is exactly what I mean. Only you would say “casting aspersions”.’ She made quote marks with her fingers.
‘At least now we’ve got more to work with. Have you heard back from forensics regarding the tyre tracks?’ George asked, choosing to ignore Whitney’s comments.
‘Not yet.’
They walked back into the incident room. Ellie was standing by the board, the phone in her hand.
‘Okay, I’ll let the DCI know,’ she said as she replaced the phone.
‘Who’s that?’ Whitney asked.
‘Mac, from the digital forensic unit. I asked him for help, as I contacted the owners of SnapMate, who are a tech company in the States, and they refused to give us details of their users in Lenchester. I thought techie to techie might do the trick, but he had no joy either.’
‘What do we know about them?’ Whitney asked.
‘SnapMate was started by a young guy about ten years ago. Damian Smart. They say on the site they have security measures in place to stop predators. They also state in their terms of service that members shouldn’t give out any of their personal information. Hundreds of thousands of kids are members across the world. They all have the app on their phones.’
‘If they don’t give out personal information, how’s that going to work, if the aim is to find friends?’ Whitney asked.
‘Because once they make friends, these kids will give out their personal information. Which is why these sites have become stomping grounds for paedophiles,’ Ellie said.
‘Can I see the site on screen?’ Whitney asked.
Ellie pulled it up, and they stared over her shoulder reading it.
‘Shit,’ Whitney said. ‘These kids don’t hold back talking about themselves. Armed with that information it would be so easy for the likes of Atkins and Keane to pretend to be one of them.’
‘I agree,’ George said. ‘They have age restrictions of thirteen to nineteen. But how the hell can they police it?’
The lack of control over the Internet frustrated her greatly. She didn’t blame the parents. These days, kids were often more computer savvy than those who were meant to be supervising them. And even though plenty of parents monitored their children’s phones, if an app was free it could be download without permission. Something had to be done about it.
‘It’s a playground for paedophiles,’ Ellie said.
‘We need to check the girls Keane was chatting with and see if there’s any link with the ones on Atkins’ phone. Ellie, can you do that?’ Whitney asked.
‘From what I can see, Keane only chatted with one girl. Her name is Bea. He arranged to meet her Monday lunchtime,’ Ellie said.
‘Can we track her down?’ Whitney asked.
‘I’ve been trying to.’
‘Doug, did you speak to the head of security at the university?’
‘He wasn’t there. His assistant said he’ll be back later.’ He checked his watch. ‘Actually, I’ll leave now. He should be there by the time I arrive.’ He took his jacket from the back of his chair and slipped it on before heading out of the door.
‘We need to focus on vigilante groups. They could be carrying out these murders,’ George said.
‘Ellie, research any you can find in the area, and also other groups that could have links with people here. Ones specifically targeting paedophiles living locally. Anything you can dig up,’ Whitney said.
‘I know there’s the Hunter Group in Birmingham. I came across them last year. They might have connections in Lenchester,’ Ellie said.
George followed Whitney as she walked over to the board and wrote vigilante on it.
‘What sort of people join vigilante groups?’ Whitney asked.
‘Those who are unhappy with the way the police deal with sex offenders. Or with the prison sentences they’re given. When paedophiles are released from jail and put into the community, it often incites a lot of anger. Very often vigilantes will be survivors of abuse themselves,’ George said.
‘But the problem is they can get it wrong. There have been several cases where innocent people have been beaten up and chased out of the city due to mistaken identity,’ Whitney said.
‘Indeed. But if you speak to members of these groups, although they may be sorry for the mistaken identity, it doesn’t stop them from believing what they do is right. They feel vindicated by the fact they’re protecting the public from evil. In their minds, their behaviour is totally justified,’ she said.
The mind of a vigilante she found as fascinating as that of a killer.
‘We need to know more about how these groups operate,’ Whitney said.
‘Last year an alleged paedophile was out on bail and he hung himself after a meeting with a member of a vigilante group,’ George said, recalling a case she’d recently read.
Frank had come over during their conversation. ‘Well, if you ask me, they deserve what they have coming to them. I have no sympathy,’ he said.
‘We can’t let our personal opinions get in the way of doing our job,’ Whitney reminded him.
‘I’m just saying what most people in this room think. The two victims deserved everything they got. If it was one of my daughters they’d been grooming for sex, then they wouldn’t be living. I can assure you.’
‘We’ve already alibied the parents of the girls we know about. We need to find out if there are more girls we don’t yet know about. Frank, look into other social media sites where teens hang out and let’s see if our victims went on any of them. It’s possible they would use the same aliases they used on SnapMate.’
‘Okay, guv, I’m onto it.’ Frank headed back to his desk.
Ellie came over. ‘Guv, there’s a group operating in this area calling themselves Justice Hunters. I’ve seen some articles written about them. They were started up last year by Len White, after he moved up from London. I’ve got his contact details here. He works at Hamilton’s, the online electrical wholesale place.’
‘Thanks, Ellie. Find out more about this group. Names of members, if you can, and do background checks on all of them. George, you and I need to pay this man a visit.’
George paused.
Should she stay with Whitney or go back to work? She did have a mountain of marking to do, and she didn’t want to get behind. Claire’s words earlier, even though she said they were spoken in jest, had got to her. She was an academic, not a police officer, and she needed to be seen in that light. Especially when she got the promotion, and all eyes would be on her and her research output. Having said that, one of her research projects would be on the police force and their use of forensic psychologists. It could have a far-reaching impact on the discipline.
