by Sally Rigby
‘As you can see, we’ve got another one. I nudged him gently on the shoulder. Nothing else has been touched.’
Whitney stared at the elderly man and shook her head. Another victim. Another distraught family. It had to have happened between Northampton and Rugby, where she’d bet the murderer had got off. No way would he still be on the train. He was too clever for that.
‘Okay, move out of the way and let me get on with my job.’ The pathologist pulled on her coveralls and gloves, then unpacked her camera.
George and Whitney took a step back while Claire examined the body and took photographs.
‘I take it we have the same stab wound as before,’ Whitney asked.
‘I’ll know more when I get back to the lab, but I’m not discounting it,’ Claire replied.
It was probably the most they’d get out of her.
‘Let’s take a quick look around the carriage, in case there’s anything of note,’ she said to George.
‘Shouldn’t we wait for SOCO?’ George asked.
‘We’re only looking, not touching,’ Whitney said.
When they couldn’t find anything, they returned to the murder site.
‘We need some identification. Is there anything?’ she asked Claire.
‘There’s a wallet in his jacket pocket. Let me photograph it, and then you can take a look.’
Whitney pulled on some disposable gloves. When Claire had finished, she handed over the wallet, which contained a photograph of two young children, a driving license, a senior railcard, a credit card, and a small amount of cash.
‘The victim’s name is Neil Thomas.’ She pulled out her phone and called Ellie.’We’ve got another body. His name is Neil Thomas. I’ll text you his driving license number. I need family details. He got on the train at either Milton Keynes or Northampton, but we don’t know if it was his inbound or outbound journey.’
‘Yes, we do,’ Claire called out.
‘Hang on, Ellie. What have you found?’ she asked the pathologist.
‘His ticket was in his pocket. It’s a Milton Keynes to Lenchester return.’
‘Thanks. Ellie, he got on at Milton Keynes and has a return ticket, so my guess is he lives around there.’
‘Thanks, guv. I’ll get onto finding his details straight away.’
Whitney ended the call and put the phone back into her pocket, furious the murderer had got the better of them so easily.
‘I wonder what he took from the body?’ George said.
‘He’s only wearing one glove. It could be that,’ Claire said.
Whitney and George exchanged a glance. Claire’s sudden helpfulness was extremely disconcerting.
‘A watch was taken from the first victim and a bracelet from the second. So he’s sticking to his pattern. I need to call back the officers who were on the other trains. We’ll have a briefing after lunch.’
‘Do you need me until then?’ George asked.
‘Why, do you want to look for a bag now you’ve got the shopping bug?’ Whitney arched an eyebrow.
‘No. I wanted to sneak a cigarette.’
‘Can it wait a while longer?’
‘Of course.’
Whitney turned to the pathologist. ‘When can we expect to hear from you, Claire?’
She stopped what she was doing and lowered her camera. ‘You really need to ask, after all this time?’
‘So, this afternoon, then,’ Whitney said. ‘We’ll leave you to it. George, we’ll go to the waiting room to see how they’re getting on with interviews.’
‘How did you get on with your funding application, Claire?’ George asked.
‘Still haven’t heard, which isn’t a good thing.’
‘These things can take a while,’ George said.
‘Come on, let’s leave her to get on,’ Whitney said impatiently.
They stepped off the train and onto the platform.
‘Well, that was weird,’ Whitney said.
‘What was?’ George said.
‘That Claire was okay with you asking a question unrelated to the case.’
‘Yes, you’re right. I hadn’t thought about it. Also, she volunteered information about the victim, which isn’t how she usually acts,’ George said.
‘It’s a total mystery,’ Whitney said.
‘Agreed.’
They walked into the waiting room, where there were around twenty people, some sitting and others pacing impatiently. Five officers were taking statements. They headed over to Vic.
‘How’s it going?’ Whitney asked, forcing herself to act normally towards the officer.
‘We’ve two reports of a man walking through the train, heading towards the toilet. He was wearing dark trousers, a casual jacket, and a baseball cap. They both said he had mid-brown curly hair, but they did give conflicting ages. One said in his thirties and other said fifties. He got off at Rugby.’
‘That’s given us something to work with. We’ll need the CCTV footage from Rugby.’
‘Although, if he’s disguised, it might not help us much,’ George said.
‘We’ll be able to see if he left the station or hopped on another train from there,’ Whitney said.
‘Agreed. Plus, we can compare the statements with those from our other murders, and also with those from previous murders. We might find a link with disguises, if he used one,’ George said.
‘Yes.’ She turned to Vic. ‘I want you to stay until SOCO arrives. We’ll have a briefing in the office at one this afternoon. Make sure everyone knows.’
‘Yes, guv.’
They left and made their way to the exit. ‘You’re still annoyed with him, aren’t you?’ George said.
‘I can’t help it. If he’d been doing his job properly, this murder might have been avoided. But I can’t let it interfere with the investigation. I get that he’s trying his hardest to put things right, but even so.’
‘Sometimes we have to learn by our mistakes. He won’t do it again.’
‘It still frustrates me that because they’re part of the RF they think they’re better than us, even though we’ve proved, on several occasions, they’re not.’
‘Let it go.’
‘I’m trying, but it’s not easy.’
‘Are you going to tell Jamieson what happened?’ George asked.
‘Not yet. It would serve no purpose. Our primary concern is to capture the murderer before he strikes again. Once he moves onto a different area, solving the case will be much harder. Especially as he takes a few months off before starting again.’
‘Which is an interesting feature of this series of murders. With many serial killers, the time between murders decreases. They become addicted to the high they get from committing the actual murder and want to replicate it.’
‘But we suspect this isn’t the case with our perp, because of the chloroform,’ Whitney said.
‘Agreed. As we’ve discussed, it’s more about revenge than any deep-seated desire to harm others and promote personal self-gratification.’
‘We need to focus our investigation on anyone who might have the need or desire for revenge,’ Whitney said.
‘And the question is, who are they seeking revenge against?’ George said.
‘My money’s on Transwide. Frank’s chased them twice for the list of redundancies, and both times they’ve fobbed him off. We also need to find out about the other threats they’ve received. It looks like I’m going to have to weigh in and get it sorted. We’ll discuss it at the briefing this afternoon.’ Her phone rang, and glancing at the screen she saw it was from the home where Rob was living. ‘I’d better get this. Whitney Walker.’
‘Hello, it’s Gwen. Do you have time to call in to see us today? We’re having some issues with Rob.’
‘What’s happened?’ The words caught in the back of her throat. Ever since her brother had moved in, she’d worried something might go wrong.
‘Three times now he’s left the house without our knowledge. Luckily, each tim
e we managed to find him quickly and bring him back.’
Shit. She had to deal with this pronto.
‘Okay. I’ll be with you shortly.’
‘What’s wrong?’ George asked.
‘It’s Rob. He keeps doing a bunk from the place he’s living. I need to go and see them, to find out what’s happening. I should be back in the office for the briefing at one. If I’m not, can you start it off?’
‘Of course. You go. I’m sure you’ll get everything sorted out.’
Chapter Twenty
Monday, 17 June
Whitney rang the bell to the home where Rob now lived. It was a large modern detached house in pleasant surroundings. Her brother had seemed happy when she’d last visited a few weeks ago. Was it really that long? She was annoyed with herself for not going more often.
‘Hi, Gwen,’ she said when the carer answered.
‘Thanks for coming in, Whitney. Let’s go through to the office for a chat. Can I get you a coffee?’
Could she ever. She was gasping.
‘Yes, please.’
She followed Gwen into the kitchen and waited while she made them both a hot drink, then they went into the office.
‘Tell me what happened,’ Whitney asked.
‘Like I said on the phone, he’s been disappearing.’
‘What does he say when you ask him why?’
‘He won’t tell us. He’s being very stubborn.’
She groaned to herself. It was a family trait.
‘Yes, he can be like that. But there must be a reason. Do you think he’s unhappy here?’
‘Not at all, which is why his behaviour is so baffling. He fits in well and has made friends. He also enjoys going to the day centre. If anything, he settled in a lot quicker than others have in the past.’
‘So, why is he disappearing?’
‘Maybe he’ll tell you,’ Gwen said.
‘Is he here?’
‘Yes, we kept him back from the day centre today, as we were hoping you could come in to see him.’
‘Where is he at the moment?’
‘He’s in the lounge playing computer games.’
‘Okay, I’ll have a chat and see what I can find out, then come back and see you after. I don’t want him to know you’ve called me in. I’ll pretend it’s a normal visit.’
Whitney left the office and headed down the corridor to the lounge, a large square room with doors leading out into the garden.
‘Hello, Rob,’ she said as she walked in.
‘Whitney.’ A beaming smile lit up his face.
‘How are you?’
‘I’m already at level thirty-two of this game you bought me,’ he said proudly.
‘That’s brilliant. Well done. What else have you been doing?’
‘I’ve been going to the day centre to see my friends.’
‘That sounds lovely. Have you been anywhere else?’ She knew from experience, you had to take it slowly. He’d tell her what she wanted to know, but it was always one step at a time.
‘I went to see Mum, but before I could get there, they found me and made me come back.’
So that was the reason. Relief, mixed with guilt, flooded through her. He wasn’t unhappy, which had been her biggest worry. She should’ve realised how much he’d be missing their mum. It had been quite a while since she’d taken him to see her. This whole problem was all her fault. She’d put it right straight away. It would have to be a quick visit, but they could at least spend half an hour together.
‘Well, you know you can’t go out on your own, in case you get lost. Go upstairs and get your jacket. I’m going to take you to see Mum now.’
‘Really?’ He jumped up from the chair.
‘Yes, really.’
While he went to get ready, she spoke to Gwen and explained where they were going. ‘I don’t think he’ll disappear again, now we’re seeing Mum. I’ll also make sure to schedule more regular visits for him.’
‘That sounds perfect,’ the carer replied.
Once Rob returned from his room, they went out to her car and drove straight to the care home where their mum lived. They signed in at reception and went to the day room to find her.
‘Mum,’ Rob called when he saw her sitting in the corner in front of the television. He ran over and flung his arms around her neck.
‘Hello, you two,’ her mum said after Rob released her from the hug. ‘What are you doing here? It’s nearly lunchtime.’
‘We’ve come to say hello. Rob’s missing you.’
‘I don’t think there’ll be enough lunch for you,’ her mum said.
‘That’s okay, we don’t want to stay. It’s just a fleeting visit. I have to get back to work.’
Rob sat next to their mum and Whitney sat opposite. She listened to the two of them chatting. It grieved her that they couldn’t live together, but it wasn’t possible. The main thing was they were both in lovely places, with caring staff. Their family home had to be sold to finance her mum’s care but, luckily, Rob’s was state funded. She promised herself she’d make sure they saw each other every week from now on, even if it was only for a short time.
‘I’m sorry, Mum, but we’ve got to leave now,’ Whitney said after half an hour.
‘I want to stay,’ Rob said.
‘Not today. How about I buy you a burger on the way back?’
‘Can I have a double decker?’
Whitney felt guilty for using his favourite treat to get him to come with her, but it saved a long argument and she didn’t want him upset.
‘You can have whatever you want. Say goodbye to Mum and we’ll go. We’ll stop off at the drive-through and then I’ll take you home, as I’ve got to get back to work.’
‘Are you catching criminals?’ Rob asked.
‘I hope so.’
‘Do you have someone bad you’re going after at the moment?’
‘Yes. And we’re going to catch him very soon.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Monday, 17 June
Whitney took Rob home, and made sure he was settled. Just as she was leaving, her phone beeped, indicating a message. It was from Matt.
You’re needed back here. Jamieson on warpath.
She tensed. Was he expecting a briefing on the latest murder already? Typical. She’d only been gone a short time. She drove to the station and hurried to the incident room. It was only one-twenty, so she wasn’t too late for the one o’clock briefing she’d arranged, not that Jamieson knew about it … unless someone had told him.
She pushed open the door, expecting to hear the usual noise of her team chatting, but it was remarkably quiet. What the hell was going on? They were all sitting at their desks, with their heads down, working. It was totally weird. She walked further into the room and did a double take.
Standing by the board with Terry, Vic, and George was her old nemesis. Dickhead Douglas. Aka DCI Grant Douglas. She hadn’t seen him for a few years, but despite the hair loss and even-further-expanded waistline, there was no mistaking him.
He’d made her life a misery and put paid to her promotion when she wanted to go from sergeant to inspector. And all because she turned him down when he came on to her when she was new in the job and he was a sergeant.
The last she’d heard was he’d transferred to the Met.
Well, she wasn’t going to let him get the better of her. She was older and wiser since their paths last crossed, and she certainly wasn’t prepared to take any nonsense from him.
She walked over to them, and when he turned and saw her, he gave an obnoxious, supercilious smile.
‘Walker,’ he said.
‘What brings you here?’ she asked.
‘Checking up on my officers.’
She looked at Terry. ‘You didn’t tell me DCI Douglas was your boss.’
‘It’s Detective Superintendent now,’ Douglas said, a smirk on his face.
Crap.
‘Is there anything we can help you with, sir?’ She kep
t her hands firmly by her sides, despite the urge to slap the stupid smile off his face.
‘First of all, where have you been? I was told the briefing was to start at one, and it’s already twenty minutes late. No one knew where you were.’
‘I had something to deal with which took longer than expected.’
‘Personal or work-related?’ he demanded.
If she told him it was work, he’d be within his rights to find out what it was. So, she might as well tell him the truth.
‘A family issue.’
‘Some things never change.’ He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.
She glanced at the other three, who stood staring at them, bemused expressions on their faces.
‘Shall we take this discussion to my office?’ she said.
‘Good idea. You’re late anyway. A few more minutes won’t make any difference. I’m sure your slipshod team won’t mind.’
She marched to her office, with him following. Once in there she slammed the door shut.
‘I don’t appreciate you undermining my authority by talking to me like that in front of my team,’ she said, not giving him chance to speak.
‘And I don’t appreciate being kept waiting when I’m here for a briefing that I’d been told was starting twenty minutes ago.’
‘Why are you here? It doesn’t concern you.’
‘My officers are involved, therefore it does. We’ve been on this investigation for two years, and I want to know if we’re any closer to solving it.’
‘So your force can take the credit, I suppose. Even though any progress we make is undoubtedly down to my officers.’
‘You’re treading on dangerous ground here, Walker. You might have crawled your way up to DCI, which certainly wouldn’t have happened on my watch, but remember, I’m your superior officer and what I say goes. If I want to come to your briefing, I will, and you have nothing to say about it, other than yes sir. Do you understand?’
Before she had time to answer, the door opened and Jamieson walked in, closing it behind him. That was all she needed, the pair of them ganging up on her.
‘Detective Superintendent Tom Jamieson,’ he said, holding out his hand to Douglas.
‘Detective Superintendent Grant Douglas,’ he replied as he shook the outstretched hand.
