Ready or Not, page 9
There was one more before her parents’. It had been bought by a lawyer from London a month or so ago, but she and her family were yet to move in. It was an island of darkness in the light.
She hurried past the driveway. As she did, she glanced up at the house.
There was a car parked a yard inside the drive. It was dark-coloured and the lights were off, but she knew instantly that it shouldn’t have been there.
And nor should the hooded figure who stepped into the street from the shadows where the driveway ended.
She opened her mouth to scream, but never got the chance.
Sunday, 15 August 2021
Alice
‘CRUCIFIX’ KILLER MURDERS AGAIN
By Alice Sark
The Crucifix Killer has struck again.
Police confirmed that the body of a woman, 21, was found early on Saturday morning, in the driveway of a house in Grappenhall. The victim’s identity has not been revealed.
DI Jane Wynne – who is leading the investigation – confirmed that this was the latest victim of the serial killer who has been operating recently in the Warrington area.
‘I can confirm that this is consistent with the prior three murders,’ she said. ‘The killer folded the victim’s arms and left a crucifix on their person.’
Fear was palpable on the streets of the town this morning. ‘This has to end, and soon,’ Andrea Jones, of Dallam, said. ‘This person needs to be caught and stopped.’
It seems unlikely that they will be so obliging.
‘These cases typically only end when the killer is brought to justice,’ Professor Bob Collins, a noted criminal psychologist, said. ‘Their motives for killing are highly personal and so a cessation is unlikely.’
The professor indicated that it is even more unlikely in this case, given the signature folded arms and crucifix found at the crime scenes.
‘Many serial killers have a ritual element to their crimes,’ he said. ‘With the “Crucifix” Killer this is clearly present. My estimation is that there is a religious motivation for these murders – the crucifix is obviously a religious symbol, but I believe the folded arms are no less religious in origin. Arms folded over the chest indicate that the victim is at peace – and the killer may believe they are bringing peace to the people they are terrorizing.’
It’s possible that this may explain one unusual aspect of the case – the mixed genders of the victims. If the killer believes they are leaving their victims at peace, then they could as well attack a man as a woman.
What is clear is that this killer is evil and degraded. Whatever significance they think their crimes have, however grandiose they think they are, they are nothing more than a common criminal – and they will be caught.
Tuesday, 17 August 2021
Tom
Tom folded the clingfilm around his half-eaten sandwich and put it back in his bag. Before the pandemic he had eaten at the company canteen most days – there was a well-stocked salad bar that was subsidized by the company to encourage healthy eating. It was cheap and good for you, and very popular.
Not any more. Buffet-style dining, with the shared utensils and multiple customers all hovering over the same food was now a thing of the past. Maybe it would return at some point, but for the moment it was another victim of the pandemic. Tom, like most of his colleagues, ate lunch at his desk.
A few rows down, Scott Daniels stood up and looked around. He raised his hand in a wave and walked over. He had a black eye.
‘Been fighting?’ Tom said.
‘Five-a-side footie,’ Scott said. ‘We played some Mancs and you know what they’re like. It got a bit tasty.’
‘Really?’
‘Nah. I fell over and banged into my goalie’s elbow, but scrapping with Mancs sounds better.’
‘I’d stick to that story if I was you.’
‘Anyway – we’re playing tonight and we’re one short. Fancy a game?’
‘Have you seen me play football?’ Tom said. ‘You’d be better off with four men.’
‘You can just stand there and get in the way,’ Scott said. ‘And we’ll be having some beers after, if you’re in the mood.’
‘Now you’re talking,’ Tom said. ‘That I can take part in. But let me check with Alice. I don’t want to leave her in the lurch.’
‘Baby still not sleeping well?’
‘Not really.’ Tom shrugged. ‘But we’re getting used to it.’
He was still only getting four or so hours’ sleep a night, but he had found ways to work with it. Two days a week he worked from home, so could have the odd nap. It was another pandemic effect – everyone had switched to working from home and it had been fine, so it was hard for the company to say people couldn’t do it now. On the other days, he had found that a twenty-minute nap in the car was enough to take the edge off.
His phone started to ring. Scott glanced at it.
‘It’s Alice. She must be listening in somehow.’
‘Who knows?’ Tom said, and lifted his phone to his ear.
‘Tom.’ Alice sounded breathless. ‘Are you free?’
‘Not really. I’m at the office.’
‘I need you to come home. Now.’
He sat up. ‘Why? What’s wrong?’
‘I’ll tell you when you get here.’
‘Is it Jo?’
Scott frowned. Everything OK? he mouthed.
‘No. But you need to get back, as soon as you can.’
‘OK. I’ll leave now.’
He put his phone in his pocket and closed his laptop. ‘Gotta go.’
‘You’re white as a sheet,’ Scott said. ‘What’s going on?’
‘She didn’t say,’ Tom replied. ‘But it can’t be anything good.’
Alice
The letter had arrived with the morning post. She had noticed it as the address appeared as though it had been printed on a home printer. There was no branding, and there was a stamp affixed to the corner. It was that rarest of things these days: a private, personal letter.
It lay on the coffee table, face down, the words printed on the same home printer. She flipped it over and read it again.
Dear Ms Sark
Your news article caught my eye.
It is not the first time you have come to my attention. It was you – or some unusually creative police officer – who gave me the name ‘the Crucifix Killer’.
It is a tawdry name, lacking in imagination. But I understand it’s the best you can do, and I forgive you.
I find myself less forgiving when it comes to your choice of vocabulary. ‘Evil’, ‘degraded’: I am afraid you are mistaken. I am neither of those things and it is bordering on insulting that you choose to brand me as such.
But they are not the most annoying aspect of your report. It is your last statement that makes me – I must confess – positively angry. ‘However grandiose they think they are, they are nothing more than a common criminal – and they will be caught.’
This is mistaken and insulting: I am far, far more than a common criminal.
And I will not be caught. The police can no more catch me than a fly can catch the spider in whose web it is caught. The spider is a different order of being. It is the predator: the fly is the prey.
That is how I stand in relation to the hearty boys and girls in blue.
Remember this, Alice. Remember this when you write your drivel. And remember that beautiful daughter of yours.
Joanna. A lovely name, for a lovely girl. It would be a shame for her to be caught in a spider’s web …
I have something else: a message for your friend on the force, the delightful Nadia: She and her colleagues will hear from me soon. My work needs further elaboration.
And – just so you know I am who I say I am, ask your friend on the force where the girl’s house keys were. I left them in an unusual place.
I trust you are well.
Yours faithfully
The ‘Crucifix’ Killer
She took a photo of the letter, then typed a message to Nadia.
This came in the post. I guess it’s going to be of interest to you guys
She sent it and sipped her tea. Seconds later the front door opened. Tom had made it home quickly. She’d not been expecting him for another five minutes or so. It wasn’t much, but still.
‘Tom?’ she called. ‘Is that you?’
Tom
The house was quiet, so his first thought was that there was something wrong with Jo.
Something seriously wrong, something so wrong she wasn’t even crying. If she had been, at least he would have known she was alive.
It made sense. What else would have made Alice ask him to come home immediately? And of course she wouldn’t have told him what it was or he wouldn’t have been able to think straight to drive. She wanted him back before she gave him the bad news.
Then he heard her voice.
‘Tom? Is that you?’
He hurried down the hall into the living room. She was sitting on the couch, looking up at him. Jo was swaddled in her Moses basket, eyes closed. He stared at her, looking to see if her chest was rising and falling.
It was. He felt dizzy with relief.
‘So,’ he said. ‘What’s going on? Is Jo OK?’
‘She’s fine.’
‘Then what is it?’
Alice pointed to the coffee table. There was a piece of A4 paper on it, next to an envelope.
‘That came in the post this morning.’
‘Who’s it from?’
And why, he thought, did I need to come back from the office? How urgent could a letter be?
‘Take a look,’ she said.
He picked it up and started to read. And he understood why she had called him home.
Alice
Tom put the letter back on the table. His face was drained of blood, his eyes wide. He sat on the couch.
‘What the fuck?’ he said, after a long pause. ‘I mean – what the fuck?’
‘I know,’ Alice said.
‘Is it real?’
‘Yes,’ Alice said. ‘It’s real. At least I assume it is. I’ll have to ask Nadia about the keys.’
‘So you think it’s him? The Crucifix Killer?’
Alice nodded. ‘It has to be.’
‘And he knows about you,’ Tom said. ‘And Joanna. And where we live. This is not good, Alice!’
‘I know.’ She caught his eye. ‘I’m scared.’
‘Have you called the police?’
‘I texted Nadia a photo.’
‘You need to stop writing about this guy,’ Tom said. ‘It’s not safe.’
‘I can’t. This is my story. And I can’t be intimidated out of writing about it. I’m a journalist, Tom.’
‘You’re a mum.’
‘Let’s see what the police say,’ she said. ‘We don’t have to decide now.’
‘I’ve already decided.’
‘It’s not your decision, though, is it?’
Her phone rang. It was Nadia.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Did you get my message?’
‘Yes,’ Nadia said.
‘What do you think?’
‘I think you need to stay where you are. I’m on my way over with Detective Inspector Wynne.’
‘How long?’ Alice said.
‘Ten minutes,’ Nadia replied. ‘Sit tight.’
Alice opened the front door. Nadia was standing behind a short-haired woman wearing a badly fitting suit. She had a slightly disconcerting gaze; it was as though she was studying you, taking in every detail and weighing it to see what she could learn.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Jane Wynne,’ she said. ‘I believe you know DS Alexander?’
‘Come in,’ Alice said. ‘We can go through to the living room. Nadia – DS Alexander – knows the way.’
They followed Nadia down the hall. In the living room, Alice indicated to DI Wynne to take a seat. She perched on the armchair. Nadia remained standing by the door.
‘I believe you received a letter?’ Wynne said.
‘It’s there,’ Alice said, and pointed to the table.
‘I’ll grab it,’ Nadia said, and snapped on a pair of gloves. She picked it up and read it. Wynne put her own gloves on and, when Nadia was finished, held out a hand.
She scanned the letter.
‘Who else has handled it?’ she said.
‘Only me and Tom.’
‘Tom?’ Wynne said.
‘My husband. He’s upstairs putting our daughter down.’
‘No one else?’
‘The post office, I suppose.’
‘They would only have touched the envelope,’ Nadia said. ‘We’ll need to take your and Tom’s fingerprints to eliminate them from the letter.’
‘And then you’ll be able to get the prints of whoever wrote it?’ Alice asked.
‘If they’re there,’ Wynne said. ‘I’d be surprised if they were so careless. But we’ll look. Talk me through what happened, if you would, Ms Sark.’
‘Not much,’ Alice said. ‘The post arrived and I saw the envelope. It didn’t look like junk mail, so I opened it.’
‘So it came with the post?’ Nadia said. ‘Not hand delivered?’
‘Yes,’ Alice said. She pointed to the envelope. ‘It’s been franked, so it went through the postal service.’
Nadia nodded. ‘The article it refers to – that was published on Sunday, if I remember correctly?’
‘Yes,’ Alice said.
‘So the letter was posted Monday and arrived today,’ Nadia said.
‘Or Sunday,’ Wynne said. ‘And picked up Monday.’
‘And it’s definitely the killer,’ Alice said. ‘There’s the comment about the keys. Where were they?’
Nadia glanced at Wynne. ‘In her mouth,’ she said. ‘They were stuffed in her mouth.’
‘So it’s the killer, all right,’ Wynne said. ‘No one else could have known that.’
There were footsteps on the stairs and the door opened.
‘Hi Nadia,’ Tom said, and then turned to DI Wynne and introduced himself. ‘I’m Tom Sark.’
‘Detective Inspector Jane Wynne. Pleased to meet you. You were out when this arrived?’
‘I was at work. Alice called me to come home.’
Wynne took an evidence bag from her pocket and slid the letter inside. ‘Do you mind if I take this?’
It wasn’t really a question. Alice shrugged.
‘Why do you think he wrote to Alice?’ Tom said. ‘Why pick her?’
‘Because she called him the Crucifix Killer,’ Wynne said. ‘So the killer – we can’t assume it’s a man yet – knows she’s in touch with us. She was the one who broke the story.’
‘And now this psychopath has her in his sights?’ Tom’s lips were white, pressed together in fury.
‘I don’t think she is in their sights,’ Wynne said.
‘You don’t think?’ Tom said. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think this is a way to open a channel of communication. It can happen in these cases. Serial killers sometimes want to be close to the investigation. It’s a game to them.’
‘That’s wonderful. But now she’s – we’re – in danger,’ Tom said.
DI Wynne nodded. ‘That’s a possibility. And we will of course understand if your wife chooses not to publish any more on this case.’
Alice glared at Tom. ‘I didn’t say that,’ she said.
‘If it is an attempt to communicate’ – Wynne held up the bag – ‘then they will want a reply.’
‘There’s no return address,’ Tom said. ‘So how would Alice – assuming she wanted to – reply?’
‘Through the press,’ Nadia said. ‘Through another story. But it’s too risky. We can’t ask you to do that.’
‘You can’t ask me,’ Alice said. ‘But if I wanted to, I could?’
‘No way,’ Tom said. ‘Not happening.’
‘Tom,’ Alice said. ‘Would you mind not speaking for me?’ She stood up and walked to the window. ‘I could, if I wanted?’
‘That would be your choice,’ Wynne said. ‘But there would be risks.’
‘How big?’
Wynne tilted her head to one side. ‘Hard to say. The threats could be no more than a way to establish dominance. To come here and hurt you in cold blood would be unusual. Serial killers have rituals which are as important as the murders themselves. But there are no guarantees, Ms Sark.’ She leaned forward. ‘Let me be clear. You are free to act as you wish, but I cannot recommend – let alone ask – that you do so.’
‘If I did,’ Alice said, softly. ‘Could you offer any protection?’
‘We can have a patrol car pass by frequently,’ Wynne said. ‘And put an alert on your address, so if you make a call we’ll have officers here in minutes. But we will do that anyway, on the strength of this letter.’
‘OK,’ Alice said. ‘I’ll think about it. There’s one other thing. What about the message at the end?’
‘The “they’ll hear from me soon”?’ Nadia said.
‘Right,’ Alice replied. ‘And that their work needs further elaboration.’
‘That’s a threat I am worried about,’ Wynne said. ‘It means they’re getting ready to kill again. And we need to warn people. DS Alexander – we need to get this in the public domain.’
‘A press conference?’ Nadia said.
‘Yes. As soon as we can.’
Tom
Tom watched the police officers leave. He couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. He had a hollow pit in his stomach, along with a feeling he didn’t recognize.
It took him a moment to realize what it was.
It was fear.
‘Alice,’ Tom said. ‘This can’t be only your decision.’
‘It isn’t,’ she said. ‘We’re talking about it.’
‘Yes, but I’m saying don’t do it and you’re doing it.’
Alice was still standing by the window. She leaned against the frame. ‘DI Wynne said she thinks it could be safe.’
