A Killing Mind, page 12
part #5 of DI Sean Corrigan Series
‘He’s our problem now,’ Donnelly reminded her, unnecessarily confrontational.
‘So it would appear,’ Morris replied, trying to keep her cool.
‘And letting the press know about the removal of the victim’s teeth,’ Donnelly continued to push aggressively. ‘That your idea?’
Morris hesitated. ‘We … I thought it might help generate some sympathy for the victim – encourage people to come forward if they knew more about her ordeal.’
‘Should have kept it quiet,’ Donnelly told her unpleasantly. ‘Now we’ll have the gutter press all over it.’
‘I know my business, Sergeant,’ Morris bit back. ‘We withheld the information about the fingernails, but felt we had to do something to stir people’s consciences.’
‘It was a mistake,’ Donnelly rudely insisted.
Sean could see things were sinking towards an all-out trading of insults and stepped in. ‘I think we’re all getting off track,’ he said, looking directly at Donnelly. He turned to Morris: ‘I would have done the same about the teeth, and Mehmet’s a worthwhile suspect. You can be sure we’ll be speaking to him. Your team’s done a good job.’
‘You don’t need to tell me that,’ Morris answered. ‘I know we did. I’m not some wet-behind-the-ears DC. I’m a DCI. Perhaps your sergeant should remember that.’
‘We’re under the usual time pressures,’ Sean told her before Donnelly could make things worse. ‘We’re playing catch-up and don’t always have the time to be as … polite as we’d like to be.’
‘I’ve moved on,’ Morris replied, trying to sound like it meant nothing. ‘We’ve landed a domestic murder – some heroin addict killed his girlfriend and toddler while he was out of his head. So if you just tell me what you want …’ She held her hands apart to let them know she was finished.
‘Everything,’ he answered. ‘Forensic reports, statements, door-to-door questionnaires, CCTV footage, her Oyster card details, if she had one – everything. Get it all packed up and I’ll have some of my team come over later and pick it up.’
‘It’ll take time,’ she argued. ‘I’ll need at least until tomorrow.’
‘Time is something I don’t have,’ he told her, getting to his feet. ‘I need it by this afternoon.’
‘Fine,’ Morris reluctantly agreed.
‘Thank you,’ Sean replied and moved towards the door with Donnelly in close pursuit.
Once they reached the relative safety of the parade-ground-cum-car-park, Sean stopped and turned on Donnelly. ‘Do you want to tell me what all that was about?’ he demanded. ‘She’s a bloody DCI, for God’s sake, and you’re talking to her like she’s a probationer.’
‘Who cares?’ Donnelly replied, as if it had been nothing. ‘She’s another bloody desk jockey on accelerated promotion. Probably never investigated anything in her life.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Sean reminded him.
‘Bollocks,’ Donnelly argued. ‘If she was a career detective we’d have heard of her. You were thinking the same.’
‘Thinking it and making it fucking obvious are two different things,’ Sean explained. ‘I told you, we need them onside – not pissed off with us and dragging their heels about co-operating.’
‘She won’t hold anything back,’ Donnelly assured him. ‘She hasn’t got the balls. The pen-pushers never do.’
‘Just—’ Sean began, but stopped himself. ‘Don’t do it again, OK. Why’re you so pissed off all the time now, anyway?’ he asked, although he was sure he knew the answer. He would have liked to hear it from Donnelly’s own lips, though. Only then could it be dealt with.
‘You really don’t know why?’ Donnelly asked, the muscles in his face tensing.
‘No,’ Sean answered untruthfully. ‘So why don’t you tell me?’
Donnelly seemed about to reply but then thought better of it. ‘Forget it.’
‘Tell me,’ Sean pushed.
‘I said, forget it,’ Donnelly repeated and stamped off towards their car.
‘Christ’s sake,’ Sean mumbled under his breath as he followed. Now wasn’t the time, but sooner or later they’d have to deal with the infected wound that threatened not just their work, but their friendship.
David Langley waited at the gate of his children’s school in Wandsworth, checking his watch and willing the end-of-day bell to sound out before his ex-wife arrived. He wasn’t technically allowed to collect the children without her permission, but as far as he was concerned he was their father and if he wanted to see them, no one could stop him. If he was lucky, she’d be late and he could take them to his flat for a while. She’d be panicking, of course, but it would be her own fault for being late. The thought of her afraid made him feel genuinely happy.
After checking his watch for the umpteenth time, he allowed his eyes to wander over the gathering mums, many of whom stirred more primal feelings in him than simple happiness, but his enjoyment was cut short as he saw his ex-wife Emma cutting through the small crowd heading straight towards him – her expression a mixture of fear and anger. He straightened to his full height as she closed the distance between them.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she launched straight into him. ‘You’re not allowed to collect the kids without my permission.’
‘I was only passing,’ he lied. ‘I saw you weren’t here and thought I’d wait until you arrived.’
‘Don’t lie to me,’ she warned him. ‘All you ever do is lie.’
He felt the anger surge through him. How dare the bitch speak to him like that. ‘Listen,’ he told her, almost jabbing his finger into her chest. ‘They’re my kids and I’ll see them whenever I want. Not you or anybody else can tell me when I can and can’t see them.’
‘Oh yes I can,’ she reminded him as their scene began to attract attention from the other parents. ‘You seem to have forgotten the terms of our divorce. You see them every other weekend. You want to see them any other time, you need my permission. If I have to get a court order, I will.’
‘What happened to you?’ he asked. ‘You used to love me. We used to be a family. When did you turn into such a bitch?’
‘When I realized who you really are,’ she answered. ‘Or should I say when I found out what you really are.’
‘This again,’ he complained, rolling his eyes as if it was a trivial matter. ‘It always comes back to this.’
‘It wasn’t just that,’ she reminded him, ‘but it was the final nail in our coffin.’
‘You never used to complain,’ he sneered at her. ‘You liked it as much as I did.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it any more,’ she told him, looking over her shoulder at the watching parents.
‘Afraid people will find out about your tastes?’ he asked as he stared into the watching faces.
She closed her eyes, took a calming breath. ‘I grew up. I calmed down. We had children, but you … you were getting worse. You were scaring me, David.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he dismissed her fears. ‘It was only a bit of fun.’
‘It wasn’t fun any more,’ she whispered. ‘Things were getting out of hand. You were … you were becoming dangerous.’
‘I knew what I was doing,’ he assured her, smiling slightly. ‘I would never have hurt you.’
‘You did, though, David,’ she told him. ‘You were hurting me.’
He stood in front of her with his mouth open, as if waiting for the right words to come out, but none came.
‘You need to go now, before the children see you. Before I tell my solicitor.’
He stared into her eyes, wondering if she could see the burning hatred in his own. He’d once thought she was the perfect woman for him. One who would not only indulge his tastes, but who actually enjoyed them. Someone he could have a family with. But he’d been wrong. Underneath, she was weak and timid like everyone else, too afraid to be all she could be – scared of playing with fire instead of excited by it.
‘Fine,’ he agreed loudly, storming past her, his shoulder hitting her hard enough to knock her into a half spin, drawing looks of disgust and disapproval from the other parents. He didn’t care. As he marched through them his mind was on fire with things he’d like to do to his ex-wife. If only he could show her his new power, she’d know how extraordinary he was and how she’d been little more than a stepping stone on his journey to becoming more than most other men would dare dream of. But he knew that the power growing inside him would be too much for her; unleashed, it would surely kill her, as it had all those it had so far touched. Her life meant nothing to him now, but his children mattered – his son and daughter were his seed, one day they might carry on what he had begun. And for now they needed a mother – so her life would be spared.
Sally entered the canteen at New Scotland Yard, which by police canteen standards was not half bad. It was light, bright, clean and had a great view. The food was largely edible too. She ordered a filter coffee and stood scanning the other customers – an eclectic mix ranging from uniformed cops bristling with equipment and firearms to plain-clothes detectives trying to look like anything other than cops. She spotted Anna sitting alone at the far end of the canteen staring out of the window while a mug of what she assumed was herbal tea cooled on the table in front of her. For a moment she considered taking her coffee back to her office and leaving Anna alone to her thoughts, but decided that after all Anna had done for her following Gibran’s attack, the least she could do was make sure she was all right. She paid for her coffee and headed over to where Anna sat. ‘A penny for your thoughts,’ she said.
Anna looked up, slightly confused, as she drifted back to the real world. ‘Sorry,’ she apologized. ‘I was lost in thought.’
‘So I could see,’ Sally replied as she took the seat opposite. ‘Mind if I ask what thought you were lost in?’
‘Oh, things,’ Anna tried to dismiss it. ‘Nothing specific.’
‘Must be a bit strange,’ Sally encouraged her to talk, ‘being back on another murder investigation after all this time?’
‘A bit,’ Anna admitted.
Sally could see that wasn’t what was really on her mind ‘Being back with Sean.’
‘Oh dear,’ Anna replied with a slight smile. ‘And I thought no one had noticed.’
‘I don’t think anyone else has.’
Anna’s smile grew wider then suddenly vanished. ‘It’s all too complicated,’ she said. ‘Dangerous. We’re both married. He has children. Nothing can ever happen.’
‘And has nothing ever happened?’ Sally asked.
‘No,’ Anna blurted, then: ‘Well, almost nothing. A long time ago now, in my office, we kissed. Things got a bit carried away, but we stopped. Nothing since then.’
‘You’ve wanted to, though?’ Sally pressed. ‘He’s wanted to?’
‘Yes,’ Anna answered truthfully, ‘but nothing has and nothing will. Sometimes it’s so … confusing being around him. Distracting.’
‘Distracting from work?’ Sally asked.
‘Distracting from everything,’ Anna admitted. ‘I think it is for him too, which he can ill afford right now.’
‘Sean’s fine,’ Sally reassured her. ‘I’ve seen the way he looks at you, but once he’s got the scent of an investigation not much knocks him out of his stride. He can do that – compartmentalize things. No matter how much is going on around him, he can always focus on the case, albeit sometimes to the detriment of everything and everybody else. He’s not the easiest person to be around.’
‘I know,’ Anna agreed. ‘Maybe that’s why I feel the way I do about him?’
‘Because he’s an obsessive workaholic who’ll steamroller over anything or anybody to catch a killer?’ Sally asked sarcastically.
‘Not exactly,’ Anna smiled. ‘It’s just there’s a certain honesty about him. An intensity. He is what he is and he doesn’t care what people think about him. He can put on the charm and play the game when he has to, but he’s always … always … real. He’s the realest person I’ve ever met, although I know he’s hiding something – something he doesn’t want anyone to know.’
‘Let sleeping dogs lie,’ Sally warned. ‘If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you. Don’t go digging. He’ll see you coming and the barriers will go up.’
‘I know,’ Anna told her. ‘I know.’
‘You want to help him and that’s understandable,’ Sally said. ‘You’re a psychiatrist. But maybe you should walk away from this. Walk away from this investigation and walk away from Sean. Go back to your nice life and forget about everything, Perhaps it would be best for everybody.’
‘It’s not that easy,’ Anna tried to explain. ‘There are things with Addis I can’t walk away from.’
‘You owe Addis nothing,’ Sally replied. ‘You owe us nothing. Don’t take this the wrong way, but with or without you, we’ll catch this one. You don’t need this.’
‘It’s not that simple,’ Anna answered, knowing she couldn’t tell Sally the truth. ‘Things are complicated.’
‘Complicated how?’ Sally asked, her voice tinged with suspicion.
‘Complicated in that there are people who expect certain things from me,’ Anna tried to explain without giving away the full facts. ‘People who I don’t want to let down.’
‘Like who?’ Sally wanted to know. ‘Addis?’
‘No,’ Anna insisted. ‘Not Addis.’
‘Sean then?’ Sally pressed.
‘Everybody,’ she managed to say. ‘I’m afraid of letting everybody down.’
‘You won’t let anyone down,’ Sally told her – her suspicions fading quickly. ‘No one’s expecting you to magically give us the suspect’s name and address. That’s Sean’s job,’ she joked. ‘But if you’re determined to stay, we’ll have a better chance of catching him quickly. So why don’t you make a start by telling me what sort of a person you think we’re looking for.’
‘Well, he’s violent and vicious,’ she began, ‘but very much in control. There’s nothing to suggest rage. Any mutilation was limited to what was necessary to kill them or to take their nails and teeth as trophies.’
‘So you agree with Sean then?’ Sally asked. ‘The nails and teeth are trophies?’
‘Almost certainly.’ Anna took a sip of her tea. ‘The two crime scenes were very similar: both were public places, albeit not well frequented. Yet he spent quite some time with his victims, and for that he needed privacy. At the first scene he had to create it by dragging her into an alley and then hiding her behind a large bin. Perhaps he found it unsatisfying, because the second attack took place in a far more secluded place where he could be alone with the victim without being too worried about being disturbed. I believe he’d really like to be alone with them in the place he felt most comfortable and in control.’
‘Which is where?’ Sally asked.
‘His home,’ Anna told her.
‘So why not lure them back there?’ Sally questioned. ‘One was a prostitute and one was a homeless drug addict. Wouldn’t have been too difficult to get them to go with him.’
‘I agree,’ Anna answered. ‘Which indicates there must be some obstacle preventing him. Perhaps he doesn’t live alone – he might have a girlfriend, or a wife and children. Or he does live alone, but in a flat with shared entrances and staircases where the risk of being seen is too great.’
‘So why doesn’t he snatch them off the street and drive them out into the woods somewhere?’ Sally asked. ‘Then he could have all the time he wanted.’
‘Abduction’s difficult,’ Anna reminded her. ‘A high-risk strategy. He’s not comfortable trying it yet.’
‘Yet?’ Sally repeated.
‘I wouldn’t rule it out completely. He may graduate to that in the future, but for now he appears to be honing his tactics. The garage worked well for him. I believe he’ll stick to what works for him: identifying victims who frequent places that offer him a reasonable degree of privacy.’
‘So he selects his victims in advance?’ Sally asked.
‘He certainly did with the second,’ Anna answered. ‘And possibly the first, to some degree at least.’
‘If he’s stalking them, it could help us find him.’
‘Possibly,’ Anna replied, as if it was of no great importance, ‘but what I find really interesting is he’s careful and a planner, yet he takes no precautions to prevent leaving DNA at the scenes. It’s almost as if he wants us to find it. DNA puts it beyond doubt. Proves it’s him.’
‘And why would he want to prove that?’
‘Because he wants the credit,’ Anna explained. ‘I’ve done plenty of post-sentence interviews with convicted killers, dozens of profiles, and one thing almost all of them have in common is that they don’t think they’re ever going to be caught. They don’t give a moment’s thought to what will happen to them after conviction. They’re too trapped in the moment. But I think this one is different. I think he’s given careful consideration to life after the killings stop. If he’s going to be locked up for the rest of his life, he might as well at least be infamous – be treated like something special. There’ll be books, documentaries, fan mail. Everything he needs to sustain him during his life behind bars.’
‘So he wants to be caught?’ Sally asked.
‘Not exactly. It’s more a question of making plans for when the inevitable happens. His actions may bring about his arrest and conviction quicker than if he’d not had such a strong method or left his DNA, but perhaps to him it’s worth it.’
‘So he’s killing to become famous?’ Sally tried again.
‘No,’ Anna answered again, ‘or at least not quite. Taking a life is a traumatic thing – even for most psychopaths. Whatever’s driving him to kill is something more compelling than the prospect of fame.’
‘Such as?’
‘I don’t know,’ Anna admitted. ‘Not yet.’
They were silent for a while until Sally spoke again. ‘It’s like having the old Sean back,’ she said, leaving her statement to float without explanation.
‘Really?’ Anna said.
‘You didn’t see him this last year or so,’ Sally explained, ‘covering for other units and dealing with everyday rubbish. He was so flat. Bored. I thought he might pack it all in.’
