Текст книги "Jessica Daniel: Locked In / Vigilante / The Woman in Black"

Автор книги: Kerry Wilkinson

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Текущая страница: 29 (всего у книги 60 страниц)

16

Jessica could barely get her words out quickly enough. She could feel her heart racing. ‘Whose is it?’

‘We don’t know yet. It’s not a full print, so we’re having to do some work with it. There’s a specialist who works freelance who’s on his way in now. If it belongs to someone on file, we should be able to match it this afternoon.’

‘Have you got anything else?’

‘Bits, it’s hard though. There’s lots of blood but we haven’t found anything that doesn’t belong to the victim at the moment.’

‘That’s brilliant. Will you call me if you get anything else?’

‘If I can.’

Jessica hung up. Things had suddenly become interesting. She still didn’t know if Robert Graves was connected to the other victims but they might finally be able to build a case if the fingerprint came back as Donald McKenna’s.

When they arrived back at the station, things were still frantic. With the e-fit being shown on every news bulletin, calls had been coming in throughout the morning with members of the public suggesting the person’s identity. Everyone would have to be checked and eliminated. News had also spread internally about the fingerprint and most of the officers seemed convinced the cracking of the case was just hours away. Jessica hoped so but kept her thoughts to herself.

She went up to DCI Farraday’s office to let him know what Robert Graves’s parents had said. He had calmed down from when she had seen him earlier that morning but was still convinced everything was linked together. She nodded along as he gave her the official news that a fingerprint had been found, not knowing Adam had told her first.

Jessica took some time to help Rowlands sort through the list of leads that had come from the phone calls. They were stuck between two different types of investigating. On the one hand they were waiting for lab results that could either help or hinder their case but, until those came back, they were using a more traditional method – assessing the phone calls. A couple of specialist officers would also be going to the Graveses’ house to look through Robert’s possessions, although Jessica wasn’t convinced they would find much.

After a while, she left the constable to it and returned to her office. She was desperately hoping her phone would ring with news from Adam but spent her lunchtime skimming through Internet news sites. Some of the coverage was based on fact but a few of the opinion pieces infuriated her. There was one in particular that caught her eye on the Herald’s website.

Martin Coleman was a name and face she recognised. He was a local councillor who seemed to have an opinion on everything. Jessica could remember a story recently where he had been campaigning against the implementation of a slower speed limit on a local road. She couldn’t remember the exact details but searched his name through the site. It soon became apparent why he was so familiar; he really did get himself around. Over the last couple of years, he had been in the news for everything from backing cuts at the local hospital to explaining why some school fields needed to be sold off.

Jessica had never been interested in politics and figured he was entitled to campaign for whatever he wanted but the comment piece he had his name on that morning really annoyed her. Under the headline ‘WHY VIGILANTE HAS THE RIGHT IDEA’, he had written hundreds of words about how crime was out of control, eventually reaching a conclusion that said, if not explicitly, that perhaps whoever the killer was had the right idea.

Jessica made a quick phone call and then stormed out of her office. This was one chat she was definitely going to enjoy.

Jessica had deliberately shown her identification as many times as she could in the council chamber’s reception area while asking for Martin Coleman. Over the phone, she had established he was in the building but hadn’t bothered to actually ask for a meeting. Instead, she turned up, parked the pool car she had taken on double yellow lines outside the building and bounded in asking everyone from the security guard to the receptionists to other people in suits if they knew where she could find the councillor.

She knew full well she could have just asked once at reception but, by flashing her identification around and mentioning his name as often as possible, people would put two and two together and make five. Rumours would be circling around the building in no time about a local detective asking after a prominent councillor.

Jessica figured that if she had tried to make an appointment, she would have had to wait for a few hours, if not days. Within five minutes of her throwing her weight around, Martin Coleman walked forcefully into the reception area. At first he spoke to one of the security guards to ask what was going on. As soon as she spotted him, Jessica made sure she was standing directly in front of the reception desk where there was the maximum number of people within hearing distance.

The councillor’s greying hair was swept back tidily. Jessica guessed his suit cost more than her car, although admittedly that wasn’t saying much. His shiny expensive-looking shoes echoed on the hard floor as he walked towards her. It was clear to Jessica he was furious but, with council staff and members of the public present, he was desperately trying to hold things together.

‘Can I help you with something, Detective?’ he said as sweetly as he could, forcing a smile and offering his hand for her to shake.

She ignored it. ‘I just need a few minutes of your precious time, Councillor.’

‘I’m pretty busy. You could always have made an appointment . . .’

‘I’m afraid I’m in the middle of a multiple murder investigation, I didn’t really have time to jump through hoops.’ Jessica made sure she emphasised the words ‘multiple murder’, just in case anyone nearby couldn’t hear.

The councillor looked quickly from side to side. ‘Right, right. I think we should probably do this somewhere more private. Do you want to come with me?’ He led Jessica out of the main hallway, up a wide flight of stairs and down a couple of corridors into a wood-panelled room with an enormous ceiling.

He sat behind a large desk and pointed to the seat on the other side of the table. Jessica ignored him, standing next to the chair instead, looking down upon him. ‘Why is it so important you had to speak to me now?’ he asked.

Jessica walked over to a window and looked out onto the street below. ‘Nice view you’ve got.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Nice view. Nice office too.’ Jessica paced back towards the desk and started fiddling with a lamp, twisting the top part around towards her and then turning it back again.

‘Detective?’ The man sounded as much confused as he did angry.

Jessica finally stood up straight and looked him directly in the eyes. ‘“Endemic incompetence”,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘“While feral youths run wild on our city’s streets, the city’s police officers are more focused on prosecuting motorists than catching the real criminals”.’

‘Oh right, yes, the article.’

‘“Policing has been too soft for too long and I for one am sick of it”.’

‘I’m not sure what you want me to say.’

Jessica could remember perfectly the choice quotes from his article. They had been spinning around her head throughout the drive from the station to the council chambers as she got angrier. ‘“There’s fear on the city’s streets tonight but for once it’s the right people who are scared”.’

‘Look—’ the councillor started to say but Jessica cut across him.

‘Have you ever had to break the news to a parent that their child has been murdered, Councillor Coleman?’

‘I don’t see what that has—’

‘How about identifying a dead body, have you ever done that?’

The man stumbled over his words as Jessica put both palms face down on his desk and leant forwards, daring him to meet her gaze. He looked down at the computer keyboard on his desk and nervously glanced sideways towards the phone.

‘“Vandals once wrecked my car but all I got was a token visit from the police. You have to ask yourself in these situations, is this a good enough service?”’ Jessica was quoting him again.

‘That particular incident is true, Detective—’

She cut him off once more. ‘Do you know why you didn’t get more than a “token visit”, Councillor?’

‘What? No—’

‘It’s because you’re a complete arsehole. It’s because officers have better things to do than chase around after complete dickheads like you. We don’t have the manpower to list the hundreds of people who think you’re an idiot, let alone narrow it down to one person who might feel the need to graffiti your car.’ The man didn’t know whether to be angry or upset. He spluttered words out but there was nothing cohesive and Jessica was on a roll. ‘I’ll be honest with you, Councillor; I don’t care if you slam the police – we’re a public service and we don’t get everything right – but I do mind when you start telling mothers who’ve lost their sons that their kids deserved it.’

‘I wasn’t trying to—’

‘Is that what you think about girls who get raped? Do they deserve it for wearing a short skirt too?’

‘No, that’s not what I . . .’

Jessica narrowed her eyes and leant further across the table. The councillor shuffled slightly but he didn’t push backwards hard enough to move the chair and he was stuck trying not to look at her. ‘The type of statements you’ve been making are completely out of order. Do you understand what I’m saying, Councillor?’

The man looked at her, his face red with a mixture of embarrassment and rage. ‘You can’t just storm in here, you know—’

‘I asked you a question. Do. You. Understand. What. I’m. Saying?’ Jessica punctuated each word with as much venom as she could manage.

‘Yes, fine, whatever. Get out of my office.’

At first Jessica didn’t move but then quickly took a step backwards, again standing tall and towering over the seated man. ‘If I were you, Mr Coleman, I would hope there’s nothing you’re trying to keep under wraps. No dodgy deals, no made-up expenses, no secret mistresses hidden away. Believe me, if you even have so much as an out-of-date tax disc, I’ll make sure it’s on the front page of as many papers as I can leak the story to.’

The man reached for the phone on his desk. ‘I’ll be contacting your superintendent about this, you know. I play golf with one of the commissioners in this area . . .’

Jessica stomped back over towards the man and he slid his chair backwards, trying to get away from her. She pulled out one of her business cards and slammed it down on the desk. The noise echoed around the room. She pointed to the various lines on the card. ‘I don’t care if you play golf with the fucking Prime Minister. That’s my name, that’s my ID number, that’s my rank and that’s my phone number. Tell them whatever you want.’

She spun around and walked quickly out of the office, slamming the door as hard as she could. Without talking to anyone, she paced back the way she had come and returned to the car. Jessica’s anger hadn’t gone but she definitely felt better as she drove back to the station. She knew full well there were official ways to go about things. Usually a senior officer would have written a letter back to the newspaper or something similar but she didn’t care.

It wasn’t that she even disagreed with all of the points Councillor Coleman had made in the article but if he was serious about getting things done, he would have asked questions through the proper channel, especially if he did know the area’s commander. As it was, he was simply looking to score cheap political points, not just at their expense but in a way that would cause maximum hurt to people like Arthur and Jackie Graves.

Jessica doubted if the councillor would speak to anyone about her visit. She had no intention of trying to find dirt on him but he didn’t know that. She wasn’t sure if there was anything he was desperate to hide or not but if there was, the last thing he would want to do would be to draw further attention to himself.

After parking the car at the station and switching the engine off, Jessica sat for a few moments listening to the relative silence. She jumped as her phone rang, picking it up out of the storage well underneath the handbrake.

It was Adam again. ‘Hi, Adam, are you okay?’

‘Hi, Jess, we’ve finished working on the fingerprint.’

‘Whose is it?’

‘Well, we don’t know. Whoever it belongs to doesn’t have their prints stored in our files.’

‘So it’s not Donald McKenna?’

‘No, definitely not.’

Jessica didn’t say anything for a few moments. It wasn’t that she had been certain the results were going to come back as a match but the outcome hadn’t left them with very much to go on.

‘Are you still there?’ Adam asked.

‘Yes, sorry. Did you find anything else?’

‘Maybe. We’ve got some blood scrapings which don’t belong to the victim but we’ve been working on the fingerprints and it takes time.’

‘Have you phoned the station yet?’

‘As soon as we’ve finished talking.’

‘Okay, right, I’ll leave you to it. Thanks for calling.’ Jessica went to add, ‘I’ll text you about next weekend’, but heard the beep to indicate the call had been terminated.

The next two days consisted of one dead end after another. The public responses to the e-fit had dried up and nothing had come from the list of names that had been suggested. Despite not having a match for the fingerprints, they had been anxiously awaiting the results on the blood the forensics team had found.

Jessica and Cole were in their regular morning briefing with Farraday in his office when the bad news arrived. A call was put through to his desk phone and, after a short conversation, he hung up and told them the blood had also come back without a match. Whoever had killed Robert Graves was someone with no criminal record.

The chief inspector sat drumming his fingers on his desk for a short time and then started to speak. ‘Do I think we made a mistake with releasing that sketch to the media? Maybe. I think we might have to look at treating this murder separately from the first four victims.’

Jessica was annoyed not only by the way he had asked himself a question and answered it but also by the use of the word ‘we’. It certainly wasn’t her or Cole who had authorised releasing that photo; it was the DCI alone who had made an enormous error.

The news broadcasters had spent the last few days reporting on the five victims of the so-called vigilante, where they actually only had three for definite and four in all probability. All the while Farraday had let the speculation build and now it was coming back to bite him. He almost shrunk in front of them, sinking further into his chair, before looking at Cole. ‘What have we got on the bent prison guard?’

‘Nothing, Sir. We’ve checked his house and his locker at the prison. His wife insists they own no other property and, as far as we can tell, there’s nothing else in his name. We’ve looked into records for things like storage units and allotments that might have a shed or something like that but again there’s nothing registered to him. That’s not to say he hasn’t used a fake name but we don’t have anything to go on. Short of digging up the entire garden or ripping up every floorboard I’m not sure there’s much else we can do.’

Jessica couldn’t remember seeing Cole angry but there was certainly an undertone as he spoke. Their boss simply nodded, his jaw clenched. ‘Daniel, what have you got?’

‘Not much either I’m afraid, Sir. The search of Robert Graves’s room turned up nothing. The labs have been looking at his mobile phone, which was recovered from the scene, but there’s nothing from that either. I’ve been helping with the phone tip-offs. We had been trying to link the suggestions to Donald McKenna but nothing matched up. We’ve also looked into anyone else who seemed legit separately but there were no obvious hits. We haven’t been able to either find a suspect for Robert Graves’s murder or link him to the other killings.’

Jessica didn’t say it but was pretty sure the reason they hadn’t come up with anything was because of her boss’s insistence on connecting cases that it now seemed clear had been carried out by different people.

Farraday nodded and continued drumming his fingers on the desk. His calmness was as disconcerting as his enthusiasm from the previous days. Jessica looked at the man and genuinely had no idea what he would do or say next. The rhythmic tapping was the only noise in the room and was almost hypnotic.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

The noise was broken by a knock on the door. The glass windows ran the length of the wall behind her and Cole. If the chief inspector had seen anyone walking past, he hadn’t said anything and the knock made Jessica jump. ‘Come in,’ Farraday said loudly. His voice boomed around the room. A nervous-looking constable in uniform came through the door.

Jessica recognised most of the faces from around the station but they had recently hired some new recruits and the man in the doorway must be one of them because she didn’t know him. ‘What is it, erm, Constable?’ the DCI asked, clearly not knowing the man’s name either.

‘Um, I’m not sure, Sir. A man just walked into reception and confessed to being the vigilante killer.’

17

No one said anything for a couple of seconds but it seemed like an age. Farraday had stopped drumming his fingers and they were all waiting for him to speak.

‘I’m sorry, what?’ he spluttered.

The constable repeated himself but the DCI barely reacted, before eventually replying: ‘You two deal with it.’

Jessica didn’t think she could have been surprised by anything the chief inspector said given his erratic behaviour recently but his dismissive tone wasn’t what she expected at all. A few moments ago he had seemed part-angry and part-upset that the investigation was going nowhere and now someone had walked in and confessed, it was as if he wasn’t interested.

Cole stood first, peering towards the constable. ‘Where has he been taken?’

‘I’m not sure; everyone downstairs was a bit shocked. Someone handcuffed him then they sent me up to tell you.’

Jessica and Cole went down to the reception area where there were far more officers than there might usually be. Word had clearly gone around that something big had happened. Jessica caught the eye of the desk sergeant. ‘Where is he?’

‘Locked downstairs in the cells. He’s refusing to talk to the duty solicitor.’

‘Do you know who he is?’

‘No idea. He just said he was the vigilante killer and that he wanted to talk to whoever was in charge of the case. He wouldn’t give his name.’

Jessica was struggling to hear him over the voices in the area. She moved closer to the desk and spoke louder. ‘Does he seem legit?’

‘Dunno. He’s got the build for it. He seemed quite calm but you never know who’s a nutter nowadays, do you?’

They made their way to the interview room and Cole told the uniformed officer outside to bring the prisoner upstairs. It was just the two of them in the room.

‘What do you reckon?’ Jessica asked.

‘It’s hard to know.’

‘If he is who he says he is then he’ll have heard about Donald McKenna’s DNA being found at the scene. None of that’s been in the papers so if he’s just an attention-seeker, that’s how we should know.’

‘True but if he is for real and wants to confess it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s going to put everything on a plate for us.’

As the prisoner was brought into the room, Jessica glanced up and quickly did a double-take. The man looked a little like Donald McKenna – he had a similar build and hair that was the same style and colour but facially he was completely different. It was her reaction that really made Jessica start to feel as if the case was getting to her. Perhaps her verbal assault at the council chambers should have been the first indication but she felt as if she was beginning to see Donald McKenna everywhere. First it was in the description of the person who killed Robert Graves and now the person who had confessed. She hadn’t spoken to the prisoner in a week but he was still playing on her mind, along with the parents of the victims.

The man in handcuffs was offered the seat across the desk and the uniformed officer looked at them to ask if he should stay or wait outside. Jessica motioned with her head to say he could leave. When it was just the three of them, she asked the man for his name.

‘Are you in charge?’ he replied, staring directly at Jessica. His voice was higher-pitched than she would have guessed.

‘We’re both senior detectives,’ she replied.

‘Perfect.’ The man told them his name was Graham Hancock and gave them his date and place of birth, address and, without prompting and for no obvious reason, his national insurance number. Now they knew his name, Cole reminded him he was entitled to a solicitor. The man refused to listen to anything they said, despite being told there was a legal representative on site who would talk with him for free.

With little other option, Jessica formally started the interview. ‘What exactly are you confessing to, Mr Hancock?’

He gave the exact date and location of the first murder and then said: ‘I stabbed Craig Millar three times, once in the neck and twice in the chest.’

‘Why did you do that?’

‘I had seen his name in the papers, causing trouble and that. I’ve just had enough. It’s not right, dealing drugs and causing trouble all the time.’

‘How did you know where to find him?’

‘I checked it all on the computer maps, then went and looked around the area during the day. He wasn’t hard to find so I waited for him one night.’

Jessica nodded. ‘What else are you saying you’ve done?’

He again gave the exact date and place and offered the correct details for the murders of Benjamin Webb and Desmond Hughes. He claimed he knew they often played snooker in a certain club through asking around and had simply followed them. He said there had been a struggle but he managed to kill both men as they had been drunk and unable to react. He also knew their exact injuries.

Jessica thought it sounded possible. He made eye contact with both her and Cole throughout, speaking clearly. He obviously knew the areas involved and got the little details right. He stated correctly that one of the men had been stabbed three times like the first victim, while the other one hadn’t.

‘Anything else?’

‘The prison guard, Lee Morgan, I killed him too.’

‘Why?’

‘I have friends inside and they told me he had been smuggling phones in and giving preferential treatment to certain people in return for money and other favours.’

If true, it was more than they knew.

‘Who are your friends?’

‘I don’t want to say.’

‘How did you know where he lived?’

‘It’s not hard – Internet searches, social networks and so on. They were in the phone book anyway.’

‘Anything else?’

‘No, that’s it.’

It was interesting to Jessica that he hadn’t confessed to the killing of Robert Graves. The media had connected all five murders together but he hadn’t mentioned the final one.

‘Why are you confessing?’

‘Because I feel my work is done for now. Others can continue my cause.’

Whether he was genuine or not, the idea of copycats was chilling. It crossed Jessica’s mind that perhaps the killing of Robert Graves was done by someone copying what they had read about in the media.

‘Do you know we have DNA evidence from the scenes?’ Jessica hadn’t known whether or not she was going to reveal that but everything he had said so far had been accurate.

She saw his eyes flicker sideways slightly but he stayed calm. ‘It’s fine, you can test me.’ They didn’t need his permission to take a mouth swab but the fact he was happy to offer one was confusing. He must know that if he were making it up, he would be found out.

Jessica almost always felt confident in an interview room and trusted her instincts but now she felt lost for words. She wanted to say the name ‘Donald McKenna’ and ask if it meant anything but, at the same time, the last thing she wanted to do was give the man information he might not know.

Cole must have sensed her unease and spoke next. ‘What do you think the DNA test results are going to tell us, Mr Hancock?’

‘I know they’ll tell you I’m the man you’ve been looking for.’

‘Why are you so sure we haven’t already matched it to someone else?’ Cole asked.

It was the exact question Jessica should have asked and she didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to her. If the man had any doubts, he didn’t show them. ‘Why are you so sure your results are correct?’

It was a fairly cryptic thing to say. Was he simply feeding from what Cole had said or was he implying that he knew their results had thrown up someone unlikely?

‘What do you mean, Mr Hancock?’ Cole demanded.

‘You tell me.’

The two men stared at each other.

‘What type of knife did you use?’ Jessica asked, breaking the impasse.

‘Just a regular kitchen one. It’s still in my house if you want to get it. I had to wash it because I used it to chop some vegetables up yesterday but it’s still in the kitchen. It has a metal handle and is at the back of the knife rack next to the draining board. It’s not the biggest one, the one next to that. When I came in, they searched me and took everything I brought in. If you go through those things, there’s a door key – just take that and let yourselves in. If there are any problems, my next-door neighbour has a key too. I’ve got his just for emergencies.’

Jessica could feel Cole’s eyes on her and turned to look at him. He gave the merest nod to indicate the interview was over and then spoke the formal words for the recording. The officer was called back inside to escort the man back to the cells below the station.

As soon as he was out of the room, Jessica turned to her superior. ‘What do you think now?’

Cole shook his head. ‘I honestly don’t know. He’s either for real or someone with a perfect memory who just happens to be one of the best liars I’ve ever met.’

It was pretty much the only way Jessica could have described him. Almost all of the details he had given them had been released by the media in some form but remembering them all down to the smallest detail took some doing. He had even filled in small gaps, such as the prison warden smuggling in phones, something which had been alluded to but certainly not reported entirely as fact. If he were a fantasist, he was a first-class one.

‘What are we going to do?’

‘Check with Farraday. Even with this guy’s keys and permission we’ll still need a warrant to make it legal. If we get his mouth swabs straight off to the labs, they can start their tests while we go check his place out.’

‘Have you ever known someone offer you the keys to search their house?’

‘Only after we’ve smashed the door in.’

‘How long do you think we’ve got?’

‘We have the usual twenty-four hours without charge but the super will give us an extra twelve if we have to wait for the lab results. If they’re not back by then for whatever reason, we can always go to the magistrates for a few more days. It’s all going to come down to forensics anyway.’

Cole went to talk with Farraday to make sure a warrant could be quickly put in place as Jessica arranged a team to take to Graham Hancock’s property. She and Cole would be going, along with a couple of uniformed officers and some members from the Scene of Crime squad. They would be in charge of collecting anything that could be needed for evidence. It took a couple of hours but everything was in place by mid-afternoon and Jessica ended up letting everyone into the house after borrowing the door key from the house next door, exactly as their suspect had suggested. Legally, taking the key that had been confiscated from him at the station could cause problems because that property had to be locked away and shouldn’t be tampered with.

Jessica knew instantly their job wasn’t going to be as simple as she’d hoped. As she opened a door, she took a step back because of the smell, exchanging looks with one of the other officers as if to ask, ‘What is that?’

She grimaced but walked across the threshold. The cream wallpaper in the hallway had turned brown at the bottom and was peeling. She couldn’t even tell what colour the carpet was as it was barely visible. A bicycle was leant across a door at the opposite end of the hall and various electrical parts and broken plastic toys were left everywhere she could see. She led the way in, stepping over the various items and trying not to trip.

The hallway led into a living room and Jessica gasped as she entered. The curtains were shut and there was minimal light seeping through. She walked over and swished them open, turning around. To her left were row after row of newspapers stacked from the floor to the ceiling. They ran the full width of the room and halfway down the length too. There were thousands of publications. She moved further into the room, allowing others to enter. On her right was a television that looked older than she was. There were dials on the front and a chunky remote control that was connected to the set via a bundled-up wire on the floor in front of it. There was only one chair in the room, a battered brown armchair with light yellow foam spilling out of the side.

The smell was almost overpowering but Jessica blinked through it and walked over to the nearest pile of papers. She took a set of rubber gloves out of her jacket pocket and put them on, turning over the publication on top. It was a national newspaper from the previous day and sat on top of one from the day before that. Jessica put them back down and reached up high to take a paper from the next stack. It had a date from three years ago and the one directly under it was from the day immediately prior.

It seemed clear Graham Hancock had been storing newspapers each day for a very long time. She put the two papers back where she had got them from and then walked over to the very first stack, standing on the tips of her toes to reach two more from the top of the pile. They were both dated from consecutive days twenty-seven years earlier.

She showed them to Cole, shaking her head. ‘This is unbelievable.’

Jessica again returned the papers to the stack and walked through to the kitchen. The Scene of Crime officers had already put the knives into evidence bags and were looking through the rest of the drawers.