Page 51 of Dying Breath
Lewis shook his head, sticking his thumb up at him, which irked him.
‘Will your girlfriend mind you taking in a waif and stray? Mine would have gone mad at me if I’d turned up with someone in tow who looked like me.’
‘I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment; she dumped me a while ago. So I can do what I want in my own house now. It’s easier that way.’
‘Women, eh? They’re amazing, but hard work all at the same time.’
He nodded as he began serving up the spicy chicken fajitas onto plates. He turned around, passing one to Lewis, who stared at the sizzling wraps in amazement. Bowls of salsa, sour cream and salad, along with a large dish of potato wedges, had all been placed in the middle of the table.
‘I hope you’re hungry. I like cooking but I do tend to get a bit carried away. I usually end up having to eat the same stuff for days at work for my lunch.’
‘I’m starving; this is brilliant. Thank you.’
He sat down opposite Lewis, trying not to stare at the man who was oblivious to the fact that his time on earth was limited. It didn’t matter if the police found his body; the acid should disintegrate most of him. And even if it didn’t, the contents of his stomach wouldn’t matter. They were eating in his home, not at a restaurant or a burger chain where they could get CCTV footage that might identify him. He was far too clever for that; he knew that the generic ingredients for the meal he’d just cooked could be bought from every shop or supermarket in Brooklyn Bay. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack and he doubted very much that the police had either the funds or the man-hours to pursue it.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Lucy was more awake now than she’d ever imagined possible. Her crushing tiredness had been replaced with the stomach-churning, blood-tingling realisation that Toby was onto something. She’d made herself a huge mug of coffee and was sitting on her bed with her MacBook balanced on her knees. There was no denying it had been tough to refuse Mattie’s offer – she would have liked to have him here for company. He could have slept on the sofa and how much better both of them would have felt. She wouldn’t have been able to concentrate, though, if he’d been in such close proximity, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to let him see her in her character pyjamas.
She couldn’t believe she’d let Toby in whilst she was so underdressed, but he’d taken her by surprise and she was glad that she had. She had the printed pages he’d brought her spread out on the bed where she could see them. She was currently looking at a photograph of Peter Sutcliffe; she sent a couple of articles about him to the printer. His first murder had happened in October 1975, and during his reign of terror he had been responsible for thirteen murders. Why was their perpetrator picking serial killers from so long ago to copy? There were plenty of sick bastards from the last ten years to emulate if he wanted.
Next she clicked on an article about the Beast of Birkenshaw. She’d never before seen pictures of the man who was now staring back at her. He’d murdered the Smart family on New Year’s Day in 1958; they weren’t the only ones, though; over the course of two years he had killed at least nine others. Then she searched for Bible John – he’d killed three young women between 1968 and 1969 and the police had never caught him.
She would give Col everything in the morning and see what he came up with. This was definitely his kind of thing; she was a bit surprised he hadn’t come up with the connections already. Then again, unless you had an unhealthy interest in serial killers, why would you know any of this stuff? She doubted most people would.
Despite being wired at the thought that they might finally have a motive for their sick bastard of a killer, her eyelids began to feel too heavy. She blinked a couple of times as her head began to fall forwards. The stress of the last week and her exhaustion got the better of her as she pushed the computer away and lay on her side. Unable to stay awake any longer, a gentle snore escaped from her lips as she gave in and let her body get some much-needed rest.
When Lucy’s alarm went off she jumped out of bed, eager to get to work and speak to her team. They had something to go on now and, despite not being sure exactly what they were going to make of it, she didn’t care. If it meant they were closer to figuring out the killer’s next move, they might be able to catch him before he did anything else so horrific. She got to the station, the plastic poly pocket with Toby’s printouts and the ones she’d added tucked under her arm. She was going to photocopy them all so the team could read them and see what they thought. As she was standing at the photocopier, she heard Patrick’s voice behind her.
‘Did I ask you if there was anything new from the post-mortems yesterday?’
‘No, it’s what Catherine said at the scene. All three of them were shot at close range; no actual contact. The killer somehow got in and managed to sneak up on them – there are no signs of a struggle in any of the bedrooms or in fact the entire house. It was quick and efficient. According to the office where Craig worked, he left work late that night, so it’s possible that the killer had to amuse himself for quite some time before he arrived. I’m going to get CSI back to search every possible hiding place and check for evidence.’
‘Is there any concrete evidence that links them to our killer?’
Lucy wanted to tell him to read the fucking reports like the rest of them, but she held her tongue.
‘Catherine has recovered what she believes are very similar blue fibres from the bodies of Melanie Benson, Stacey Green and Michelle Martin. They’re currently being fast-tracked through the system by a trace evidence specialist in Chorley.’
A look of surprise crossed his face. ‘Really? That’s interesting. How have I not heard about this before?’
Lucy refrained from rolling her eyes at him. ‘Maybe because you’ve only just stepped in as the boss. If you remember, you were supposed to be solving the mystery of the body in the woods.’
She could have bit her tongue – she shouldn’t be goading him. But Christ, he was acting like he didn’t have a clue. What had happened to him? He used to have a little bit more about him when he was her sergeant; now he was just like the majority of them. Anything for an easy life, even if it meant fobbing off what should be open-and-shut cases.
He ploughed on. ‘What have the background checks brought up on the Martins? Is there anything of interest?’
She shook her head. ‘Col said that Craig doesn’t appear to have been involved in anything illegal. No dodgy dealings or large amounts of money that have come and gone from the bank unaccounted for. His wife was a stay-at-home mum, looking after their son, who had special needs.’
‘That’s such a shame – a nice murder-suicide would have made everyone’s life a lot easier.’
Lucy’s hand clenched into a tight fist; Patrick was really grating on her nerves this morning with his flippant comments. Whilst she’d been witnessing a real-life horror film up at the mortuary for hours yesterday, he’d been sitting on his arse. Probably doing a crossword and sod all else that was useful. She noticed Col outside shaking his head at her and mouthing the word ‘coffee’. She smiled at him and nodded.
‘It’s a puzzle and a tragedy, but I’m sure we’ll find something that gives us a motive very soon.’ For some reason she found herself reluctant to share the information that Toby had given to her with him. If he wasn’t going to muck in and help out, she would make sure he was the last to know about it. At least until she was sure that this theory had something to it. Tom would have been there, listening and doing his best to support his team. Patrick really wasn’t bothered. If, after she’d discussed it with the others, they agreed, she’d report back to him.
‘I hope so – we don’t want this hanging around over our heads any longer than necessary, do we?’
No we fucking don’t.‘No sir, we don’t.’
