"How did you get on with Hendry's ex-wife?"
Eric exhaled through gritted teeth, hissing quietly, offering a shake of the head.
"Strange woman, I have to say." He frowned.
"Strange how?"
"Well, she was pleasant enough at first but then … I don't know, she sort of … turned on me. Booted me out, just like that! It was a bit weird."
"Before she turfed you out, did she say anything useful?"
Eric's frown deepened. "She's no fan of her ex-husband, that's for sure. From what she described, he comes across as a manipulative control-freak who was used to getting his own way. He couldn't handle the fact she wanted to leave him and ended up putting her in the hospital." Eric's frown switched to disappointment. "I guess you really can't see the real person through a television screen, can you?"
Tom sighed. "They say you should never meet your heroes, Eric. They are almost always a disappointment. Did, what was her name, Victoria—?"
"Think he was capable of being a killer?" Eric shook his head. "Nah. She didn't give me that impression at all. Pretty much threw me out around then as well." He stared into space. "Like I said, weird."
Cassie was still looking at the board, lost in thought.
"What is it, Cass?" Tom asked.
"It's probably nothing …"
"Try me."
"All right, but don't shoot me down straight away, okay?" Tom nodded. "When I was looking into these missing girls … I had to pass over most of those who vanished from larger urban or metropolitan centres just because it's far too circumstantial to try and link them but I couldn't ignore the case in Kristiansand and, besides that one … I found two others in and around locations where these guys were working as undergraduates." She shook her head, frowning. "It's too much of a coincidence for my liking."
"You know what you’re inferring, don't you?"
She bit her lower lip. "Yes, I do … I think one of these guys is a serial attacker and when Elin calls back, we might have enough evidence to start building a case to prove it."
Tom nodded solemnly. "Eric, have a look into this conference that Cannell was speaking at, see if you can determine his movements, specifically if he visited Kristiansand. Drop in on Julia Rose, see if she can recall him visiting her on the dig." He indicated Cassie. "We should wait until your Norwegian counterpart comes back to us but, dependent on what she says, I think we may need to speak to Alex Hart – formally."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tom and Cassie watched Alex Hart, sitting at a table in the interview room chaperoned by a uniformed constable, via the monitor streaming the feed from the camera in the corner of the room. He was clearly agitated. Whether that was a result of being picked up unannounced from home, an hour earlier, or purely the anxiety of being held in relative discomfort in a sterile, windowless room. Depending on your point of view, his body language either exhibited nervous tension or fear of discovery.
"He looks scared," Cassie said, not taking her eyes from the monitor. Tom agreed.
"Doesn't mean he's hiding something, though." Tom glanced sideways at her. "And he declined legal representation?"
She nodded. "Surprisingly, yes. He must be supremely confident—"
"We'll see."
"It will be interesting to gauge his reaction, though, won't it? Do you think he'll see it coming?"
Tom didn't answer, scooping up the files from the desk and heading for the door, Cassie a half step behind. Striding purposefully into the interview room, Hart stared at them wide-eyed as Tom pulled out a chair opposite him without a word and set the folder down in front of him. Cassie swapped places with the constable, off to Hart's left and in his peripheral vision, leaning against the wall and folding her arms across her chest. Hart glanced nervously in her direction before focussing on Tom. Tom put his elbows on the table and brought his hands together beneath his chin in a prayer pose. He allowed the suspect to watch for a few moments, maintaining an impassive expression and patiently observing how on edge Hart appeared to be. If he was confident then he did a good job of concealing it.
Casually, Tom opened the folder on the table. Removing two photographs he set them down on the table, reversing them and sliding them across in front of Hart. He lowered his eyes, scanning them before lifting his gaze back to Tom.
"It's a nice place, Kristiansand, isn't it?" Tom said.
Hart looked puzzled. Whatever he'd expected the opening comment to be, it certainly wasn't that.
"Excuse me?"
"Kristiansand, the fifth largest city in Norway and, of great interest to historians and archaeologists alike, occupied since prehistory …" Tom glanced at his notes, lifting the next page from the folder and eyeing it, "… to the south and west of Oddernes Church lies one of the largest pre-Christian burial grounds in southern Norway. But you already know that don’t you?"
Hart swallowed, noticeably appearing to have difficulty with the action but didn't speak.
"Tina Farrow and Anette Larsen," Tom said gently, pointedly tapping each photograph in turn as he said the name. Hart pursed his lips, as again his eyes darted to the images but they lingered on neither. "Tina Farrow – murdered in late August 2001. Anette Larsen … sixteen years of age … abducted and later murdered in Kristiansand, 2004." Hart wouldn't meet Tom's eye, instead he glanced at Cassie but broke away from her intense gaze as well, flicking to the pictures of the smiling girls and away again. His chest heaved. "Look at them." Hart stared at Tom. Tom leaned forward, pushing the pictures closer and repeated himself. "Look at them!"
Hart looked down eyeing the two girls in turn.
"You know them?"
"I knew Tina," Hart said quietly, reaching up slowly with his left hand. His fingertips brushed over her image carefully, deliberately, and then moved to Anette's. He pointedly pushed the picture back towards Tom. "But this other girl; I don't believe I know her."
"You're sure? You've never met her?" Tom said, picking up the image and holding it aloft in front of Hart, pointing to her face with his forefinger. "You're certain you've never come across her?"
"Yes, I'm certain. I've no idea who she is."
"Julia Rose participated in an excavation during the July of 2004, in Kristiansand. Do you recall that?"
Hart shrugged. "Yes, that rings a bell. So what?"
"Anette Larsen went missing walking home from a night out with friends … and her body was pulled from the fjord four days later near the village of Justvik." Hart tried to swallow but couldn't.
"May I have some water—?"
"Her neck was broken," Tom continued, ignoring the request, "and she may have been sexually assaulted."
Hart forcefully shook his head refusing to meet Tom's gaze. "Not me … not my fault," he mumbled.
"Coincidence that both girls, teenagers, were to die in similar circumstances … in the same way. Pretty girls aren't they?" Tom placed Anette's photograph back alongside Tina's and pushed both into Hart's view; he closed his eyes to shut them out. "Look at them!"
Hart shook his head vigorously, clamping his eyes tightly shut. "No … no … not my fault. I didn't do anything."
"We know you attacked Julia, she told us," Tom said. Hart looked up, glaring at him as his eyes began watering. "Your girlfriend at the time told us how you beat her—"
"It wasn't like that!"
"Then how was it?"
"I didn't mean to … you have to believe me," Hart said looking between Tom and Cassie, imploring them. "When it happens, I don't recall it afterwards, not really. I–I lose myself … but not anymore."
"What do you mean not anymore?" Tom asked. Hart dropped his head into his hands.
Cassie sighed. "He means he doesn't kill anymore—"
"No! That's not what I mean." Hart snapped in her direction in an uncharacteristic display of lucidity, holding up his hands in a placatory gesture. "I am … ashamed of what I've done in the past to people I love." He nodded towards the photographs. "But I didn't do this."
>
Tom sat back, leafing through the folder and taking out another piece of paper.
"You were not very clear about your time in Kristiansand, did you help Julia with the excavations?"
He shook his head. "I visited the site a few times, out of professional curiosity, personal interest, as well as to support Jules."
"I should imagine the digs blend into one, don't they?"
Hart shrugged. "Some are more memorable than others."
"But let us be clear, you have no recollection of meeting Anette Larsen?"
"No. I've already said so—"
"Are you sure about that?"
Hart's mouth fell open under Tom's piercing stare, his eyes widening. Tom waited, watching as Hart's lips moved but he said nothing. Tom took another picture from the folder and put it down on the table on top of the photographs. It was a picture taken from a traffic camera, time and date stamped on the night of Anette's disappearance, depicting a blue saloon car passing through a red light. Tom double-tapped it with his finger.
"This car ran a red light in the area of the docks, where the ferries depart Kristiansand for Denmark, coincidentally the same area Anette had to traverse to reach her parents' waterside apartment and where her mobile phone and purse were found several days after her body was discovered. You recognise this car?" Hart stared at the image, it was black and white, grainy and generally low quality but the registration plate was visible. "During the investigation into Anette's disappearance Norwegian police gathered all the images they could from traffic cameras, CCTV, both from private enterprise and public transport hubs … and this image was one among hundreds. A needle in a haystack; until we fed your name into the data." Hart glared at him but Tom remained resolute. "The car was traced back to a hire company who'd leased it out at the time, and it was leased to you."
Hart slowly shook his head, squinting at the image. "B–But I–I … it can't be me …" he stammered. "I would remember, wouldn't I? I mean, it can't have been me."
"You would remember," Tom said.
"Yes, of course I would, surely—?"
"But you just said that you lose yourself," Cassie reminded him. "Maybe you lost yourself that night in Kristiansand?"
"No," he shook his head firmly, "I was ill in Kristiansand and hardly drove the damn car. I–I certainly didn't get any … bloody traffic tickets for running a red light! I barely left the apartment. Ask Julia! Yes, you should ask her. It can't have been me."
"Just a coincidence," Tom said. Hart nodded. "And Tina Farrow … also a coincidence—?"
Hart slammed his fist on the table. "I didn't hurt her! I liked her for crying out loud."
"She teased you … just like she teased the others," Tom said, "and when you pressed on, thinking you'd pulled, she knocked you back and you didn't like it!"
Hart swung his head from side to side. "No, it didn't happen like that … it wasn't my fault."
"And then she laughed at you, just as she laughed at Billy and you went for her, didn't you? That's what happened. You went for her and you killed her. How dare she do that to you!"
"No … that didn't happen … I don't remember …" Hart said, clamping his hands against the sides of his head, trying to block out Tom's accusations.
"Was it the same with Anette? Only she was easier to dispose of – you'd learnt by then – you could throw her in the water but Tina … you had to come back for her the next day, dragging her to the site, knowing the freshly backfilled soil would be easy to dig. That's where you buried her, safely hidden from view!"
"No! I didn't do that!" Hart balled his fists and hammered them down on the table, glaring at Tom.
"Where did you stay that night, the night of Tina's disappearance because you didn't go back to your room, did you?"
Hart closed his eyes, leaning his head back and breathing hard through his open mouth. Slowly righting himself, he shot Tom a despairing look. "I walked … and I walked." Shaking his head, his brow wrinkling as he seemed to be recalling painful details from memory. "And I can't tell you where I slept. I really don't recall." His eyes were vacant now, his spirit deserting him. "I woke the next day, aching and stiff with a thumping headache; that was common for me back then. When it all got too much I just sort of zoned out. With my medication things are different now. The next morning I found my way back to the Crown – Julia had already left for the site – and I didn't have an access card for our room." He shook his head. "I lost mine at some point the previous night. I had to get one of the staff to let me into our room – I don't remember who – and then I showered, gathered myself as best as I could and went to join the others at the dig."
He gently placed both hands on the photographs before him, staring hard at them and spreading his fingers wide to get maximum purchase, pushing them slowly across to Tom. He was still breathing heavily, his expression strained but he was focussed. "I have no recollection of what you are telling me …" He glanced between Cassie and Tom "… and in all honesty I can't tell you that I did something when I have no memory of having done it." His voice was cracking as he spoke, his lower lip quivering and shoulders sagging. "I just want to go home," he said in a whisper, hanging his head.
Tom acknowledged the constable who stepped into the interview room as both he and Cassie left. Cassie leant her back against the wall in the corridor, blowing out her cheeks. She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head in Tom's direction.
"You know, I'm pretty sure he's telling us the truth."
"Which part?" he asked.
"I'm not convinced he knows what's real and what's fantasy," she said chewing on her lower lip. "Hell of a temper for a guy who looks like he'd snap in the wind though."
She had a point. Alex Hart's medical history detailed multiple occurrences of delusion and psychotic episodes over the years. However, provided he kept to his regimen of drugs then the professional medical opinion was that his condition should be manageable. With that said, Hart was clearly struggling at the moment.
"Maybe we should get the on-call doctor to check him over before we let him go home."
"Let him go? Seriously?"
He nodded, inclining his head to suggest they walk back to ops. Cassie fell into step alongside him.
"We have no more reason to hold him now than we did this morning."
"But the car—?"
"Taken from a traffic camera in 2004 in the same area a girl, who went missing, was last reportedly seen in … and that's it. And we can't even prove he was driving it because he's not visible in the camera shot. Plus," he said, rounding a corner and sidestepping a uniformed officer who was in a hurry, "I'm not up on international law but unless the Norwegians put out an arrest warrant then we have no grounds to hold him anyway."
"Elin says they'll want to speak to him."
"Absolutely, I would too if I were them. Any word on the DNA?"
"Still waiting," Cassie said. "But if what was found on Anette Larsen is matched to Hart then Elin will be on the first available flight."
Tom laughed. "It still doesn't quite fit though." He glanced at her, reading her quizzical look. "If Hart is our man then it strikes me that Tina's assault was a result of his mental condition, a sporadic assault brought on by a psychotic episode."
"Agreed. So what?"
Tom stopped, turning to face her. "Anette Larsen looks more like a pre-planned attack; a hunter out on the prowl who found a vulnerable target and took advantage. That's what you get when dealing with a serial offender." He resumed his walk. "The two scenarios are very different."
"That's true," Cassie said. "Listen, serial killers often like to keep things from their victims, right?"
Tom nodded. "Yes, trophies: personal effects, mementos … why?"
"Do you think we could get a search warrant to go through Hart's house. Maybe he'll have something from one of the victims?" She read Tom's placid expression as unenthusiastic. "Come on, I know it's a long shot but it's got to be worth a look, right?"
Tom resumed
his walk back to ops, glancing back over his shoulder, he saw she was still standing still, concentrating hard.
"Find out if any of our potential victims were missing anything special to them when they were found and then we'll see."
Cassie realised he'd moved off and she hurried to catch up with him, coming alongside as they entered ops. Tamara was there and she beckoned them over, no doubt keen to hear what Alex Hart had to say. Tom heard Cassie muttering something about this case being so weird under her breath. He could appreciate the sentiment.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Julia Rose met Eric on the porch as she closed the door to her guest house, glancing up at the sky. The clouds were moving at pace and a quick look out to the horizon over the North Sea showed the long-awaited storm was threatening to finally make its appearance. The day felt close and muggy.
"Thank you for seeing me at such short notice," Eric said.
"That's okay," Julia replied, walking alongside him as they set off away from the house. They could have stayed indoors to talk but the guest sitting room was far from private. Julia cut a dejected figure. "It's not like I have anything much to do anyway. I'm not even sure why I've stayed on."
"Why have you?"
"To be here for Alex if he needs me, maybe?" She shook her head. "I don't really know, to be honest. I have a ton of things I should be doing in Svelgen."
"Have you seen Alex since you came back?"
"Yes, of course."
"How did you find him?"
Julia fell silent, looking at the ground where she walked. Her reticence was obvious.
"Not good," she said after a few moments, glancing sideways at Eric. "I knew he was struggling … I've always known he was struggling, but what was I supposed to do, stay with him in spite of everything?"
"I don't think anyone can attach blame to you for his condition," Eric said. "I think you've had to cope with a lot over the years—"
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