Where did you come from? he quietly asked the trace of the killer that would forever remain at the scene like an ethereal fingerprint of violence that could never be scrubbed away. Did you walk straight towards it? Did you walk across the same ground Im walking across now feeling unstoppable feeling like a god? Or did you skirt around the outside of the park and come up behind him? He waited a few seconds for the answer to come, but he neither heard nor saw anything, so he continued his walk to the garage, trying to feel the killers presence, his mind, with every step, until he reached the brick and corrugated-iron shell that William Dalton had called home.
The forensic team had pulled the metal sheet back across the entrance as best they could, but the floodlight penetrated deep inside, illuminating the squalor Dalton had lived in and the violence that had claimed his life. Sean peered through the gap in the makeshift front door. Is this what you did? he asked the ghost of Daltons killer. Did you move quietly up to the garage and look through the gaps, watching him for a while before you somehow lured him into your trap? And how did you do that? He looked down at the floor inside and instantly found what he was looking for: the bloodstains from the crime scene photographs. In real life, they looked far less vivid. There was a small patch of blood at the entrance and then what appeared to be a smear mark for several feet that connected to a much larger bloodstained area where Dalton had his throat and carotid artery sliced wide open, causing him to bleed to death in seconds.
Sean remembered the report said the victim had almost certainly been hit over the back of the head. The photographs of Daltons matted, bloody hair around the wound flashed in his mind. He pulled at the sheet of metal that had served as a door, the noise loud and grating screaming through the stillness of the bitter night. He froze for a few seconds as he looked around. Surely someone would have heard the metal being pulled away? Or at least you must have thought it would have been heard, he whispered. You must have thought it would attract unwanted attention, that someone might look out of a window and see you yet you didnt walk away. You did what you came here to do. He thought silently for a while, seeing the killer standing in the darkness calm despite the frightful noise. No sense of panic or fear. Just a determination to kill. A shiver ran down his spine, partly because of the cold, but mostly because of the dawning realization of the type of killer he was hunting. This one was as calm and careful as he was vicious. Those were always the most difficult to catch.
Again he pulled at the metal sheet, once more filling the night with that terrible grating sound, until the gap was big enough to fit through. He took a couple of steps back to the floodlight and switched it off, unclipped his mini-Maglite from his belt and clicked it on.
Alarmed by the sounds coming from the scene and the sudden darkness, the constable Sean had spoken with earlier called out, his voice full of concern: You all right there, sir?
Im fine, Sean shouted back. I need to look at something without the light on. He headed to the garage entrance and stood peering into the darkness with only his small torch for illumination. He remembered there had been a camping lantern at the scene and figured it would have given off about the same amount of light. Now he was seeing the scene as both killer and victim had seen it.
He shone his torch at the pattern of blood on the ground the cone of light tracing it from the small stain by the entrance to the larger dried pool deep inside the garage. He walked on, careful to avoid the area where the killing had taken place, while also watching every step he took, shining the light on each area of ground before placing his foot down, until he reached a patch from which he could see everything he wanted. Again he traced the blood smear from the small stain to the large pool and back again as the scene that had played out here became clearer and clearer in his mind.
You were hit on the back of the head by the entrance and then dragged inside where he sliced across your trachea and carotid artery. The cut across the throat was survivable, but the cut to the artery was not. The pressure in the artery would have caused death through blood loss, but Shit, he cursed as he lost his way and his thoughts became confused and tangled. He took a few deep breaths to clear his mind, then started again.
Youre not thinking like a homeless teenager, he reprimanded himself. What was he thinking? What was going through his mind? He thought back to the crime scene reports. There was evidence the victim had been preparing his crack pipe, though he never got to use it. What would keep an addict from his drug? he asked softly. He took a few more deep breaths while the image of the victim began to form in his mind as if he was watching him on CCTV footage. He could see Dalton, eagerly but carefully preparing to get high and forget the pointlessness of his life.
You live your life in fear, Sean found himself quietly saying. You dont feel safe anywhere. You only escape the fear when you get high, which is what you were planning on doing, but something disturbed you. You heard something outside, didnt you? Something anyone else could have ignored, but because you live in fear you had to be sure it wasnt a threat had to make sure no one was waiting for you to pass out stoned when youd be at your most vulnerable. So you went to take a look outside. He walked back to the entrance and looked out into the night just as William Dalton had.
It was raining hard that night, he reminded himself. It must have been difficult to see properly with the rain driving into your face in the dark. Did you call out demand to know if someone was there? But no one called back, did they? Did you move further from your shelter to try and see better playing right into his hands? He used your fear to lure you into his trap, didnt he? And when you stretched too far into the darkness, he hit you hard not hard enough to kill you, but enough to knock you down, to leave you confused and disorientated while he dragged you back inside. Did he close the entrance before he did the things he did to you? The report said it was open when the body was found, but he could have left it like that when he went. He thought back to the original crime scene report. You had a camping lantern, but there was no mention of any light being on so it was never turned on or he turned it off when he came in or when he left. Was that why he wasnt afraid of being seen because it was dark in here? Another thought crossed his mind as he searched with his torch for the lantern, quickly finding it. He walked carefully towards it and crouched next to it, shining his torch close as he examined the on/off switch. It was set to on. Clearly the batteries had gone flat by the time the body was discovered. Sean nodded as he thought it through. Batteries are expensive. You would have used the lamp sparingly, but you needed light to prepare your drugs and then there was the noise outside. Your fear meant you kept it on when you went to look, but when he dragged you inside he left it on. Because he wanted to see. He had to see everything. And when he left, he left you in light because he wanted the world to see.
He remembered the words of the crime scene report and the photographs. There was no evidence of the victim fighting back no defensive wounds or arterial blood-spray patterns on the walls. So you were too badly injured to fight back, or he was too strong. Strong enough to pin you to the floor while he cut through your throat and carotid artery. Did he hold you still while he watched the life drain from you? And when you were dead or near-dead, he took your teeth and nails so he could relive killing you over and over again.
Without realizing it, he suddenly switched point of view from victim to killer, as if in the moment Dalton died he left his dead body and entered the murderers very much living body. For a few seconds he was sure he could feel the excitement and power the killer had felt coursing through him, making him feel more alive than hed ever been.
You raped the first victim, but your crimes are not sexually motivated, he said, almost too quietly to be audible. Your excitement spread through every inch of your body, didnt it? You became aroused by this great thing you had just done, but the tension in your body was too much, wasnt it? You needed a release, so you raped her while she lay dead or dying. He closed his eyes for a second and allowed the images of William Dalton lying dead on the ground to flood in. His clothes appeared to be fully intact, his genitals unmolested. Did you feel the same almost uncontrollable excitement when you killed for the second time? Did you need to release? But this was a man Shit, he suddenly cursed. This one was coming to him too fast. Thinking like him was almost overwhelming, but at the same time it was intoxicating and seductive to follow the conscious and subconscious steps of a killer towards what most would consider to be madness, but what to them was a transformation into something greater and more powerful. He drew in deep breaths to regain his focus to regain his own voice. To take back his own mind.
OK, he told himself, trying to think like a detective and not the killer he hunted. No matter how hard you tried to keep clean, you would have been a fucking mess. Your hands, sleeves, everything would have been covered in the victims blood. Blood has a nasty habit of getting everywhere, but once you cut through his carotid artery you had to deal with arterial spray too blood spraying out under pressure from a heart trying to stay alive. You must have been covered in it warm and wet on your skin like slick hot oil Fuck! he chastised himself for drifting back into the killers mind.
He gave himself a few seconds to regain his composure. You must have been a mess. You couldnt have casually walked on to the tube or a bus like that, and even if you had a car nearby, you wouldnt have risked walking to it covered in the victims blood. No. You plan too much. Somehow you got clean or clean enough to slip past a casual look. So you took water with you or knew where to find it or had something with you that would cover your blood-soaked clothes until you could get home and get clean. But what about your wife and family, or your parents? They would have noticed something. He thought for a second. So you live alone. The bloody ones always live alone. He paused for a few seconds to allow his observations to settle into something more solid in his mind. The first sketching of a mind-map that he knew, one way or the other, would eventually lead him to the killer of William Dalton and Tanya Richards.
He took one last look around the inside of the garage at the squalor of Daltons life and the bloody hell that was his death. What do you want? he asked the killer. Youre not just killing because you cant stop yourself, are you? Youre trying to youre trying to achieve something. But what?
He clicked his torch off and walked into the darkness that waited for him outside.
4
Next morning Sean was in his office at New Scotland Yard, a takeaway black coffee steaming on the cheap wooden desk that had snagged more than one pair of trousers. Engrossed in typing up his findings on the virtually obsolete computer he refused to allow IT to replace, he was unaware that he had a visitor until a sharp knock on his doorframe alerted him. Somehow, without looking up, he knew who it would be. Maybe hed subconsciously detected her perfume. His entire body froze with tension when he saw her standing in the doorway.
Anna, was all he could say.
Sean, she replied, looking at the floor for a split second to avoid his eyes.
Been a long time, he told her.
Youve not had an investigation that needed my input, she reminded him.
You mean one that Addis wanted your input on? he replied. Your input about me.
She walked into his office and took a seat without being asked. Weve talked about this, Sean. My loyalty is to you. Ill only tell Addis what we agree he should be told. Ill keep him off your back while you try to find whoever committed these crimes and maybe I can help you with that too.
He watched her for a while before answering taking in every breath, every minute movement and involuntary twitch of her body. Perhaps you can, he eventually said. This ones certainly a bit different.
I read the file, she told him. Sean raised an eyebrow. She saw it. Addis, she explained.
Naturally, he replied. And what do you think?
I think hes a vicious killer who needs to be stopped, she answered.
Thats your professional opinion? he asked with a smile.
Part of it. She returned the smile.
And the rest? Id be interested in hearing what you think.
You mean youd be interested in seeing how far behind you I am? she accused him.
Thats not true. Or at least, it was only partly true. He did want to hear her thoughts.
Well, she began, hes certainly high on the violence score, but low on the rage score.
Meaning? Sean asked, although he believed he knew the answer.
Meaning you can almost certainly rule out mental illness, she explained. Hes not raging over his victims there are no multiple stab wounds, for example. Hes very precise. If hes mad at the world, he has a very calm way of showing it. Murderous, but calm. And hes not concerned about leaving his DNA at the scene, so its unlikely hes killed before or been convicted of any crimes.
Could he have killed and gotten away with it? Sean asked, although he was sure he hadnt.
Its possible, Anna agreed. He may have used a completely different method. But I doubt it. Hes used the same method twice now, which means he likes to stick to what works what hes comfortable with.
Interesting, Sean told her.
Interesting enough, she said, but nothing you hadnt worked out.
Youve flagged things I hadnt considered, he lied. Youre the psychiatrist not me.
Anna didnt believe a word. Im glad I could add something, she smiled.
He raped the first victim, Sean quickly moved on. Yet his second victim was male. Whats he thinking?
I dont believe hes sexually motivated, she explained. There were no obvious signs of sexual activity with the male victim, but he may well be more of a sexual predator than he thinks. Certainly, when the opportunity presented itself, he took it.
She had no defensive marks, Sean reminded her, so he raped her when she was dead or almost.
Or he threatened her into submission, or hes strong enough to totally overpower her, Anna argued.
So what is he? Sean asked. A rapist or a necrophiliac?
Neither, Anna answered. His reason for attacking wasnt to have sex with them dead or alive. That was merely a byproduct.