Leaving her laptop by the desk, Fiona noticed that Major Berrocal hadnt wasted any time. A pile of paper lay accusingly in the fax tray. That she couldnt ignore. Stifling a sigh, she picked it up, automatically straightening the edges, and headed back downstairs.
As Kit had promised, her dinner sat in the fridge. She wondered fleetingly how many of his fans would credit that the man who created scenes of graphic violence that gave critics nightmares was the same creature whose idea of relaxation after a hard days writing was to cook gourmet food for his lover. Theyd probably prefer to believe he spent his evenings on Hampstead Heath, biting the heads off small furry animals. Smiling at the thought, Fiona poured herself a glass of cold Sauvignon while she waited for the ri sotto to heat up, then settled down at the kitchen table with the Spanish fax and a pencil. Glancing at the clock, she decided to catch the news headlines before she began the chore of deciphering foreign police reports.
The theme music of the late evening news thundered out its familiar fanfare. The camera zoomed in on the solemn face of the news reader: Good evening. The headlines tonight. The man accused of the Hampstead Heath murder walks free after a judge accuses the police of entrapment.
Top item, Fiona noted without surprise. Middle East peace talks are on the verge of breakdown in spite of a personal intervention by the US President. And the rouble tumbles as fresh scandal hits Russias banking system.
The screen behind the news reader head changed from the programme logo to a shot of the exterior of the Central Criminal Court. At the Old Bailey today, the man accused of the savage rape and murder of Susan Blanchard was freed on the order of the trial judge. Mrs. Justice Mary Delancey said there was no doubt that the Metropolitan Police had entrapped Francis Blake in an operation which she described as little short of a witch-hunt. In spite of the lack of any solid evidence against Mr. Blake, she said, they had decided that he was the killer. Over to our Home Affairs Correspondent, Danielle Rutherford, who was in court today.
The theme music of the late evening news thundered out its familiar fanfare. The camera zoomed in on the solemn face of the news reader: Good evening. The headlines tonight. The man accused of the Hampstead Heath murder walks free after a judge accuses the police of entrapment.
Top item, Fiona noted without surprise. Middle East peace talks are on the verge of breakdown in spite of a personal intervention by the US President. And the rouble tumbles as fresh scandal hits Russias banking system.
The screen behind the news reader head changed from the programme logo to a shot of the exterior of the Central Criminal Court. At the Old Bailey today, the man accused of the savage rape and murder of Susan Blanchard was freed on the order of the trial judge. Mrs. Justice Mary Delancey said there was no doubt that the Metropolitan Police had entrapped Francis Blake in an operation which she described as little short of a witch-hunt. In spite of the lack of any solid evidence against Mr. Blake, she said, they had decided that he was the killer. Over to our Home Affairs Correspondent, Danielle Rutherford, who was in court today.
A woman in her thirties with mouse-brown hair tangled by the wind gazed earnestly at the camera. There were angry scenes in court today as Mrs. Justice Delancey ordered the release of Francis Blake. The family of Susan Blanchard, who was raped and murdered as she walked on Hampstead Heath with her twin babies, were outraged at the judges decision and at Blakes obvious jubilation in the dock. But the judge was unmoved by their protests, saving her condemnation for the Metropolitan Police whose methods she described as an affront to civilized democracy. Acting on the advice of a psychological profiler, the police had set up a sting using an attractive female detective in an attempt to win Mr. Blakes affections and to lure him into confessing to the murder. The sting, which cost hundreds of thousands of pounds of the police operations budget and lasted for almost three months, did not lead to a direct confession, but police believed they had obtained sufficient evidence to bring Mr. Blake to trial. The defence argued that whatever Mr. Blake had said had been at the instigation of the female detective and had been calculated to impress the personality she had falsely projected. And this view was upheld by the judge. After his release, Mr. Blake, who has spent eight months in prison on remand, announced he would be seeking compensation.
The picture changed, revealing a stocky man in his late twenties with cropped black hair and deep-set dark eyes. A forest of microphones and hand-held tape recorders blossomed in front of his white shirt and charcoal suit. His voice was surprisingly cultivated and he glanced down frequently at a piece of paper in his hands. I have always protested my innocence of the murder of Susan Blanchard, and today I have been vindicated by a court of law. But I have paid a terrible price. I have lost my job, my home, my girlfriend and my reputation. I am an innocent man, but I have spent eight months behind bars. I will be suing the Metropolitan Police for false imprisonment and for compensation. And I sincerely hope they will think twice before they set about framing another innocent man.
Then he looked up, his eyes blazing anger and hatred. Fiona shivered involuntarily.
The picture changed again. A tall man in a crumpled grey suit flanked by a pair of stony-faced men in raincoats walked towards the camera, head down, mouth drawn into a thin line. The reporters voice said: The police officer in charge of the case, Detective Superintendent Steve Preston, refused to comment on Blakes release. In a later statement, New Scotland Yard announced they were not actively seeking anyone else in connection with Susan Blanchards murder. This is Danielle Rutherford at the Old Bailey.
Back in the studio, the news reader announced that there would be an in-depth look at the background to the case after the break. Fiona turned off the TV. She had no need of their potted version of the facts. There were powerful reasons why she would never forget the rape and murder of Susan Blanchard. It wasnt the graphic police photographs of the body or the pathologists report or her knowledge as a local resident of the scene of the crime, a mere twenty-minute walk from her own front door, although all of these had been terrible enough. Nor was it the brutality of a killer who had violated and stabbed a young mother in full view of her eighteen-month-old twin sons.
What made the Hampstead Heath murder so significant for Fiona was that it had marked the end of her association with the Met. She and Steve Preston had been close since their undergraduate days when theyd both read psychology at Manchester. Unlike most student friendships, it had persisted in spite of their very different career paths. And when British police forces had first started to consider the potential advantages of working with psychologists to improve their chances of catching repeat offenders, it had seemed the most natural thing in the world for Steve to consult Fiona. It had been the start of a fruitful relationship, with Fionas rigorous approach to data analysis complementing the experience and instincts of the detectives she had worked with.
Within hours of the discovery of Susan Blanchards body, it had been clear to Steve Preston that this was precisely the kind of case where Fionas talents could be used to best advantage. A man who could kill like this was no beginner. Steve had learned enough from listening to Fiona, supplemented by his own reading, to know that such a killer would already have cast his shadow over the criminal justice system. With her expertise, Fiona would be able to suggest at the very least what sort of record their suspect would have. Depending on the circumstances, she might well be able to indicate the geographical area hed be likely to live in. She would look at the same things that detectives saw, but for her they would have different meanings.
Early in the investigation, Francis Blake had emerged as a possible suspect. He had been seen on the Heath around the time of the murder, running away from the direction of the dense undergrowth that shielded the small clearing where Susan Blanchards body had been found by a dog-walker who heard the children crying. Blake was branch manager for a firm of undertakers, which suggested to detectives that he had an unhealthy preoccupation with the dead. He had also worked in a butchers shop as a teenager, which the police decided meant he was comfortable with the sight of blood. He had no adult criminal record, although he had been cautioned twice as a juvenile, once for setting fire to a rubbish bin and the second time for an assault on a younger boy. And he was evasive about what hed been doing on the Heath that morning.
There was only one problem. Fiona didnt think Francis Blake was the killer. She said so to Steve and she kept on saying so to anyone who would listen. But her suggestions for alternative lines of inquiry had apparently led nowhere. Under the glare of an outraged media, Steve was under pressure to make an arrest.
One morning hed turned up at her office at the university. Shed taken one look at the hard set of his features and said, Im not going to like this, am I?
He shook his head and dropped into the chair facing her. Youre not the only one. Ive argued till I was blue in the face, but sometimes you just cant buck the politics. The Commanders gone over my head. Hes brought in Andrew Horsforth.
Neither of them needed to comment. Andrew Horsforth was a clinical psychologist. He had worked for years in a secure mental hospital whose reputation had slumped with every independent report ever made into it. He relied on what Fiona contemptuously referred to as the touchy-feely approach to profiling, priding himself on the quality of insights gained from years of hands-on experience. Which would be fine if he could ever see past his own ego, shed once commented sarcastically after listening to him lecture. Hed had what she privately referred to as a lucky break on the first major case where hed produced a profile and hed traded on it ever since, never failing to provide the media with all the quotes and interviews they could desire. When police made an arrest on a case where hed produced an offender profile, he was always quick to claim the credit; when they failed, it was never his fault. Faced with Francis Blake as a suspect, Fiona felt certain Horsforth could make the profile fit the man.