Righteous Anger: A frantic hunt for a child killer (DCI Rob Miller Book 3)

by BL Pearce

  Rob rubbed his head. “Great. I suppose you’re also going to tell me he’s in his mid to late thirties, white and educated?”

  His friend tilted his head to the side, an amused look on his face. “I thought that was a given.”

  Rob grimaced, but Tony’s analysis had opened up a vast number of possibilities. If Rachel had been his first kill, she could turn out to be the most important victim of the investigation. Mistakes would have been made. Back then, he was learning his craft.

  If Jo couldn’t join them, one of his team would have to look into Rachel's disappearance, and she wouldn’t like that.

  “If he’s out there, we’ll find him,” Rob muttered, more to himself than to his friend.

  “A serial killer will escalate as he progresses,” Tony reminded him. “Always reaching for that elusive high that he gains from killing. One more is never enough.”

  “So, we can expect to find more bodies?” Rob surmised.

  Tony nodded grimly. “He’s probably hunting for his next victim as we speak.”

  39

  Rob couldn’t sit still, but it had nothing to do with the two espressos he’d had that morning.

  “Any news?” he asked Jenny for the umpteenth time.

  “Not yet, guv.” Her tone was becoming more clipped with each response.

  He gave up. She’d inform him the minute Celeste reported back from the mortuary where the first of the post-mortems were taking place.

  DCS Lawrence had somehow managed to expedite them. No one wanted this case to drag on. The longer a child serial killer was out there the more flack the police would get. As it was, the press statement this morning hadn’t gone well.

  Harry had returned flustered and agitated. “They didn’t stop flinging questions at me,” he’d said, pacing up and down the squad room. “I didn’t know what to say. We don’t have any more information to give them.”

  They were relentless, Rob knew. “You did well to keep your cool.”

  He’d seen it on the morning news. Despite Harry’s movie-star looks and Vicky’s suave corporate cool, they’d still taken a beating. He was just glad it hadn’t been him.

  The whiteboard was crammed with information. Last sightings, what the girls were wearing, schools, home addresses. Geographically, there was nothing linking them. They were all dotted around the county. No two victims lived in the same town.

  “How the hell is he finding them?” Rob stood in front of the board. “What are we missing?”

  “It can’t have anything to do with their schools,” Mallory pointed out. “None of them attended the same school and we’ve cross checked all their teachers.”

  “What about janitors, teachers’ assistants and support staff?” Rob asked.

  Mallory shook his head. “Still waiting for that information, but what are the chances any of them worked at five different schools in the last five years?”

  “Keep checking,” barked Rob. Mallory was right, it wasn’t likely, but they didn’t have anything else to go on.

  “Any joy with that white van, Will?”

  “No sir, there are over twelve thousand Vauxhall Vivaros and seven thousand Movanos registered in Surrey. I'm checking to see if any of them were picked up by the ANPR cameras in the areas the girls came from, but so far no hits. I’ll let you know if anything pops up.”

  Rob sighed. They didn’t even have confirmation it was that make of vehicle. They could be wasting their time.

  “Okay, thanks. Let’s leave that for now and concentrate on finding a link between these missing girls.”

  “Guv,” said Mike raising his hand. The south Londoner might look tough, but he was actually quite shy. He didn’t often put himself forward.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve found another victim who fits the profile,” he said.

  “Who?”

  “Anna Dewbury from Hemel Hempstead. She was fourteen. Her body was found in a ditch next to a canal in 2011. She disappeared on her way to a friend’s house one Saturday morning.”

  “That’s eight years ago. She’s the right age, what makes you think it’s linked?”

  “Her body was wrapped in a sheet. The crime scene photographs show her posed in a similar way to the others.”

  He spun his laptop around so Rob could see. The dead girl lay in a shallow grave, the sheet pulled back to expose her face. Soft blonde hair. A delicate, heart-shaped face. Porcelain pale.

  He squinted across the table. “Are those clips in her hair?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He exhaled. “Add her to the list.”

  They had another victim. This one died eight years ago. The killer’s timeframe was lengthening.

  “Good work, Mike. That makes it seven girls, that we know of.”

  There was a low murmur around the table.

  Mike sent the photographs to the printer and a short time later it spat them out.

  “Was anyone arrested for her murder?” Rob asked.

  “No, but they questioned a young man in connection with her disappearance. A social worker named Alan Simpson. He wasn’t charged.”

  “Get his details,” Rob said. “Let’s bring him in for questioning. In the meantime, find out everything you can about this girl. It looks like the body was in pretty good shape when it was found, so the post-mortem may have picked up something we can use.”

  He offered up a silent prayer. Please.

  Mike was pinning Anna’s photograph to the board when Jo walked into the squad room carrying two boxes of files. She glanced around, then dumped the boxes on the nearest desk.

  Rob went to greet her.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?”

  “I decided I was needed here more than at the National Crime Agency.”

  “And Pearson’s okay with that?”

  “Not really, but he’ll get over it. Where do you want me?” She gave him a disarming grin and he felt like he’d been warmed by a ray of sunshine.

  “We’re in Incident Room 3.” He nodded to the far end of the squad room where the glass-walled offices were located.

  “Aah, I thought it looked a bit empty.”

  “Come on, follow me.”

  As they walked in, the team glanced up and Rob was surprised to see smiles break out on everyone’s faces. Most of the crew knew her from when she’d worked with them earlier in the year. The sunshine had permeated their inner sanctum.

  “Hi everyone,” she said, grinning back. “Great to see you again. Where shall I sit?”

  Rob pointed to a vacant chair. Celeste was attending the post-mortems and would be gone for most of the day.

  She put her handbag on the seat and a laptop case on the table, then said, “Let me grab my files.”

  “I’ll help,” said Harry, jumping up.

  A moment later the two heavy boxes were stacked on the floor behind her. Rob had updated her on Tony’s ideas the night before, so she knew the importance of Rachel potentially being his first case and was eager to get to work.

  His phone rang.

  Everybody glanced up. Pavlov’s response.

  He grabbed it off the table. “Yeah?”

  Celeste’s voice. “Sir, we have an ID on the first girl. It’s Rosie Hutton.”

  Rosie. One of the missing girls they’d already identified.

  “Thank you, Celeste. That’s excellent news. Do we know when she died?”

  “Around three years ago. She also had an old fracture on her right forearm, but it didn’t occur at the time of death. Dr Kramer says it’s at least five years old.”

  Two years prior to her death.

  “Okay, keep us posted.”

  “Will do. The other DNA samples should be back any moment, so hopefully I’ll have some more names for you then.”

  He turned to the waiting group. “Body 1 is Rosie Hutton.”

  “The twelve-year-old from Cheam,” said Mallory, updating the board.

  Rob told them about the broken arm. “It may be signif
icant, although nothing to do with her death. We have to inform her next of kin. Jenny, are you okay to do it?”

  DS Bird nodded. Three years in, it wasn’t her first death notification.

  “Take Becca or one of the FLO’s with you, and while you’re there, ask how she broke her arm.” He made a mental note to check the hospital records.

  Something Tony had said was playing around in his brain.

  He’s protecting them from something.

  By mid-afternoon three of the five unknown girls found in the clearing had been identified.

  Rosie Hutton (12)

  Chrissy Macdonald (14)

  Angie Nolan (10)

  “Elise Mitcham is still missing,” Rob pointed out. “Her dental records are on file and they don’t match either of the two remaining victims.”

  “That means there are two girls unaccounted for,” said Jo.

  “We need to look harder,” said Evan. “We’ve missed a couple.”

  Rob glanced at Mike and Jeff who’d been tasked with trawling the missing persons notifications. “Anything?”

  “There’s one possibility,” said Jeff, hesitantly. “Lucy Chang disappeared two years ago. She was fifteen years old, so older than the others. According to her mother’s statement, she’d got in with a bad crowd. This wasn’t the first time she’d disappeared. Which is why we didn’t flat it before.”

  “Go talk to the mother,” said Rob. “Take Mike with you. Find out whether she’s heard from her daughter, and if not, ask her if we can use something of Lucy’s for a DNA analysis.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jeff leaped up, delighted to be let out.

  “Find out why she ran away,” Rob called after them.

  His phone rang again.

  “Celeste?”

  “Dr Kramer is performing the post-mortem on one of the unknown victims, sir,” she began, her voice hesitant.

  “Yes?”

  “Well, um…” There was an awkward pause. “It appears she wasn’t a virgin.”

  “Seriously? You mean she was sexually assaulted?”

  “At some point, yes, although Dr Kramer can’t say whether it was at the time of death or before.”

  Rob closed his eyes.

  “What?” asked Jo, who’d been watching.

  He turned to her, phone hanging at his ear. “One of the unidentified girls was sexually assaulted. It seems we’ve got another angle to look into.”

  40

  “Do you think the killer did it?” asked Jo, after Rob had hung up.

  “Dr Kramer wasn’t sure. It doesn’t make sense, though. Why take so much care with the other girls, killing them humanely, without using violence, then raping this one? It’s just not his style.”

  “It could have happened before she was taken?” suggested Jo.

  Rob frowned. “It’s a pity we don’t know who she was.” He glanced at the other names on the list. “Rosie Hutton had a broken arm. I wonder…”

  “If the others were being abused too?” finished Jo.

  Rob nodded. “I know it’s a long shot, but I think we should bring in the parents and ask them. Just in case.”

  “If that’s what your gut’s telling you.” She smiled at him.

  It was.

  “I’ll get on it,” said Mallory.

  DS Evan Burns led the interviews, supported by DS Bird. Rob had read the American’s file. He had an interest in forensic psychology and had trained in interview techniques. Good to know.

  Rob listened in, yet another cup of disgusting canteen coffee in front of him.

  Mrs Macdonald, a small, fragile woman with prematurely grey hair, was responding to Evan’s soft American draw. Her husband, not so much. He sat bolt upright in his chair, an annoyed expression on his face.

  “I can’t believe you’ve found our Chrissy after all these years,” she gushed. “I never thought we’d get her back.”

  Evan smiled. “It’s the least we could do.”

  “We’re going to bury her close to us,” she continued. “So we can visit every day.”

  Rob glanced at her husband’s hard face and didn’t think he’d be visiting his daughter’s grave every day.

  Evan told them they were doing everything they could to catch her killer. Did they mind if he asked them some questions about her disappearance?

  “Yes, of course. We’re happy to help in any way we can. Aren’t we, love?”

  Mr Macdonald grunted.

  Evan began by asking them to describe the last time they saw their daughter. Mrs Macdonald welled up, while her husband sat stoically beside her.

  “Was she acting strangely before she disappeared?” Evan asked, fishing for information. “Acting out or moody or depressed?”

  “No, nothing like that,” said Mrs Macdonald, but she didn’t meet his gaze.

  “How was her relationship with you?” he asked.

  “What does that mean?” snapped Mr Macdonald.

  Evan rephrased the question. “Was she an easy child? Did she get on with both of you?”

  “She was a typical teenager,” he muttered. “You know what they’re like?”

  “No, I don’t.” Evan turned his attention to the husband. “Could you explain what you mean by that?”

  “She was a bit up and down,” interjected Mrs Macdonald, casting fearful glances at her husband. “We loved her dearly, but she could be difficult.”

  “Difficult? Could you give me some examples?”

  He was good, Rob was impressed. He picked up on the vague answers and drilled down, looking for specifics. Trying to get them to reveal more than they intended.

  “Oh, let me see…” She stared at her hands. “Back-chatting, refusing to clean her room, going out with her friends and coming home late, normal teenage stuff.”

  Chrissy had been fourteen when she disappeared.

  “She could also be very rude to her father.”

  “How did that make you feel?” Evan asked him.

  His lips stretched into a thin line. “We tried to discipline her, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “How did you discipline her?”

  Rob held his breath.

  “We grounded her,” he said, evenly.

  Evan nodded. “How did she take that?”

  “Not very well,” sighed her mother.

  “And this was before she disappeared?” Evan clarified, leading them back to the point where their daughter was taken.

  Mrs Macdonald nodded. “She was still grounded when she disappeared. That’s why we didn’t call the police straight away. We thought she might have gone to her best friend's house in an act of defiance. Her and Daisy were inseparable.”

  “But she wasn’t there?”

  Evan had read the case file, as had he. Chrissy had gone to buy a drink after school with her friend and they’d parted ways at the bus stop. The friend had got home safely, but Chrissy was never seen again.

  Mrs Macdonald stifled a sob. “No, she wasn’t.”

  Evan paused for a moment, then he said, “Was there a reason why Chrissy might not want to come home, other than out of defiance.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Mr Macdonald, frowning. He was a big guy, over six foot, with beefy arms and a barrel chest. Where he once might have been firm, his belly was turning to fat.

  “I mean, had you had an altercation with her the day before? Maybe been a bit heavy-handed?”

  “I don’t like what you’re implying,” he growled. His wife whimpered.

  “Mrs Macdonald?” enquired Evan softly. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  She couldn’t look at him. “No, nothing.”

  Her husband had her under his thumb. Probably under his first, when they were at home. Something wasn’t right there. If they wanted to get the truth out of Chrissy’s mother, they’d have to interview her separately.

  Evan obviously came to the same conclusion because he tied up the interview shortly after that and let them go.

  “There’s
something they’re not saying,” he told Rob back in the incident room.

  “Agreed,” said Rob. “We need to get her alone.”

  “He’s a building contractor,” Evan said, “But he doesn’t work every day. If I can find out when he’s out, I’ll pop round and speak to her privately. I’m worried questioning her alone now would only get her into trouble later.”

  He, too, had read the situation.

  “Good idea,” agreed Rob.

  There was definitely something suspicious going on there.

  The second interview went a lot easier. Angie Nolan’s mother was a feisty woman in her mid-thirties, younger than Rob expected. But then Angie was only ten when she was taken. She came in alone, clicking down the corridor in tight jeans and three-inch heels.

  “I have two other children now,” she told Evan.

  They discussed the days leading up to Angie’s disappearance, and whether anything had been bothering her daughter.

  “Well, my first husband, Angie’s father, wasn’t a very nice man.”

  Rob glanced up at the screen.

  “What do you mean?” asked Evan.

  “He was a brute. He used to beat me, and I suspected he was doing the same to Angie, although I had no proof.”

  “What made you think that?”

  “Angie had these odd bruises all over her body,” she said. “Even the school noticed. They reported it to child protective services. We had to meet with a social worker.”

  “Do you remember his or her name?” asked Evan.

  She shook her head. “It was a he, but no, sorry.”

  “How did Angie find it?” asked Evan.

  Rob leaned forward, hanging onto every word.

  “I’m not sure.” She sighed. “Angie denied her father had hurt her. There was nothing they could do.”

  “But you could.”

  She nodded. “I’d had enough by that stage. I was looking for an excuse to kick the bastard out, so next time he went drinking I had all the locks changed. He was so angry when he got back, I had to call the police.” She smirked. “He spent the night in a jail cell. Served him right.”