Eyes of the Wicked Page 17

  “His sister,” Battle said. “Did he mention her name?”

  Maureen nodded. “He said her name was Ruth.”

  Dani wrote the name in her notebook.

  “Is there anything else?” Battle promoted. “Did he tell you where he lived? Were there any other names he mentioned apart from Ruth?”

  “He’s definitely from around here,” she said. “Yorkshire, I mean.”

  That was something, Dani thought, but Yorkshire just happened to be the largest county in England, so their search had only been narrowed down to an area of almost five thousand square miles.

  “Did he mention any other family members apart from his sister?” Battle urged. “How about a holiday he’d been on? Places he’d visited?”

  She shook her head. “No, he didn’t talk about any of that.”

  “What about his sister? What did he tell you about her?”

  “Just that he talks to her a lot. I get the impression that she lives far away, and they talk on the phone quite a bit. I thought that was quite touching. A lot of siblings don’t even stay in touch so it’s nice to hear of a brother and sister being so close.”

  “Did he say what they talk about?”

  “Their childhood, mostly, and their mother. I got the impression she wasn’t a nice woman.”

  “He spoke about her in the past tense? So she’s passed away?”

  Maureen frowned. “Well, I’m not sure. Sometimes, he talked about her as if she’d passed but at other times, I got the impression she was still alive. So I can’t help you with that.”

  Dani looked at the scant information on her notebook page. It wasn’t much to go on. Perhaps the crime scene where the mother and daughter had been abducted would offer more leads.

  Battle must have been thinking the same thing because he handed Maureen his card and said, “If there’s anything else you think of—anything at all—please get in touch with me immediately. Day or night.” He turned to the door and said, “Enjoy your Christmas” as he walked out into the hall.

  Dani followed. Neither Maureen nor her husband saw them out.

  When they got to the cars, Battle looked up into the snow-filled sky and closed his eyes. Dani could sense his frustration.

  “She’s been in contact with the killer,” he said. “I thought she’d have more to give us than just his first name and the name of his bloody sister.”

  “It’s something,” she said. “We can get someone to plug these names into the database and see if anything comes up.” Even as she said the words, she knew that it would likely be an exercise in futility for whichever constable got handed the task.

  He sighed in resignation. “Yeah, I’ll call it in and get someone on it. Now, let’s get over to that crime scene and hope the bastard has slipped up and left us some evidence we can use to get to him before he kills again.”

  “Okay, guv.” She got into her Land Rover and waited while Battle got into his own car and talked to someone on the phone, probably phoning in the order for someone to trawl through the database searching for a “Samuel, last name unknown” with a sister named Ruth.

  As Battle had said, hopefully the crime scene would yield more information than Maureen Williams had.

  When the DCI finally started his car and drove off along the snowy street, Dani followed, hoping they’d break this case soon.

  Because if they didn’t, they’d have two more dead bodies on their hands.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tarnby was a tiny village which had quadrupled in size thanks to a new housing project on its north side. As Dani followed Battle’s car along one of the new streets, she couldn’t help but notice the contrast between old and new.

  The village itself consisted of stone cottages, all different in design and spaced at irregular intervals along the main street. The new estate, on the other hand, was made up of identical yellow brick houses arranged in neat rows with mathematical precision.

  Battle’s Range Rover came to a stop outside a house which stood out from all the others because its driveway and the pavement were ringed by blue and white police tape. A number of police vehicles were parked near the tape and a couple of News vans were also present on the street.

  Dani got out of her car and she and Battle flashed their warrant cards at one of the uniform officers guarding the scene’s perimeter. He lifted the tape to let them inside.

  The front door was open, and DS Lorna Morgan stood in the hallway, inspecting a large cardboard box that leant against the wall.

  “What have we got?” Battle asked as he and Dani stepped inside.

  Morgan consulted her notebook. “Teresa Matthews, 39, and her daughter Gemma Matthews, 16, both missing. Teresa’s mother, Sandra Cole, arrived here at nine o’ clock this morning. She was supposed to be spending Christmas with her daughter and granddaughter. When she got here, she used her key to enter the property after no one answered the door and found it empty. There are signs of a struggle in the living room and blood on the carpet. She called the police.”

  “Have the SOCOs been?” Battle asked.

  “Been and gone, guv. They took samples of the blood and lifted prints from the house, including this box.” She indicated the large cardboard box that was leaning against the wall. According to the picture and writing printed on it, the box contained a Panasonic TV.

  Battle looked at Dani. “Looks like he delivered this and then decided to take more than just a signature.”

  “We’re trying to find out which firm delivered the TV,” DS Morgan said. “We’ve taken electronic devices from the house to see if there’s an online order for it. If we can find the store it was ordered from, we can track which delivery firms the store uses to deliver their goods.”

  “Is there anything else?” Battle asked. “Something that might help us find him sooner rather than later?”

  “Unless Forensics get a hit from the blood or the prints, there isn’t much to go on, guv. Some neighbours remember seeing a white van on the street yesterday, but nobody thought anything of it at the time, so no one had a good look at the driver or got a number plate.”

  Dani sighed. She used plenty of online stores herself, and found them convenient, but she also knew that because of the proliferation of delivery vans driving around housing estates—most of them unmarked—it was easier for criminals’ vehicles to go unnoticed by the residents. If they saw a strange van parked outside their neighbour’s house, they assumed their neighbour was receiving a delivery, not being burgled.

  And now the same thing had happened here; the killer had driven into this estate and out again without anyone taking so much as a second glance at his van.

  Battle pointed into the kitchen. “Why is there a makeup bag on the floor?”

  Dani followed his gaze and saw the bag lying on the kitchen floor, its contents of lipsticks, eyeliner pencils, and mascara brushes spilled out on the tiles.

  “We think that Teresa and Gemma were getting ready to go out when the intruder forced his way into the house,” Morgan said. “Apparently, they were going to attend a Christmas Eve service at the local church.”

  “And they never made it,” Battle surmised.

  “No, guv.”

  “So he’s had them a while already. I don’t think we’re going to have a three-week time frame like we did with Abigail.”

  “Definitely not,” said a voice from outside.

  Dani turned to see Tony Sheridan standing there, his face almost in the space between the collar of his oversize jacket and the blue beanie pulled low over his head. He was stamping his boots on the driveway, as if to keep the blood circulating in his legs.

  “Tony,” Battle said. “Come and see what you make of this.”

  Tony entered the house, his eyes wandering around the hallway and into the kitchen. “Why is there a makeup bag on the floor?”

  “We think Teresa and her daughter were getting ready to go out when our man arrived,” Battle said. “He’s a delivery driver. He was
delivering this TV.”

  Sheridan stepped past them and made his way to the kitchen, crouching over the makeup bag and its spilled contents. “How old is the girl?”

  “Sixteen,” Battle told him.

  The psychologist nodded and stood up straight, inspecting the kitchen. “And they both have dark hair? The girl and the mother?”

  Battle looked at Morgan for help.

  The DS nodded. “Yes,” she said to Sheridan.

  “It’s his mother,” Sheridan said under his breath.

  “What do you mean?” Dani asked.

  “He killed Tanya Ward in front of Abigail, telling her that he was doing what she wanted. Not Abigail, of course; she didn’t want Tanya dead. In his mind, he was talking to his sister. Ruth. We know that Abigail played the role of Ruth in his fantasy, but I was never sure who Tanya Ward represented to him. Now it’s clear. He wants to kill his mother. For Ruth.”

  “I’m not sure I follow,” Battle said. “If he wants to kill his mother, then why did he kill Tanya Ward instead?”

  “Because he can’t kill his actual mother. Something is stopping him. It’s one thing to kill a stranger but quite another to kill the person who brought you into the world. Ed Kemper, the Co-ed Killer, wanted to kill his mother but ended up murdering nine young women before he got around to achieving his actual goal.”

  “So you think his mother is still alive?” Dani asked. “We just spoke to someone who said she wasn’t sure. Samuel sometimes speaks about her as if she’s alive and sometimes as if she’s passed away.”

  “Samuel,” the psychologist said. “Is that his name?”

  Dani nodded.

  “Samuel. Samuel.” Sheridan seemed to be rolling the name around his mouth, as if tasting it. “Why not Sam? Or Sammy? Samuel seems a very grandiose way of using that name. Most people would shorten it to Sam.” He held out his hand to an imaginary stranger and shook the air as if greeting them. “Hi, I’m Sam. Hey, I’m Sammy. Hello, I’m Samuel.”

  Battle cocked an eyebrow.

  “She calls him by that name,” Sheridan said. “His mother, I mean.”

  “So she is still alive?” Dani asked.

  “Oh yes, she’s alive. He wants her dead. Ruth wants her dead. But she’s still here and that bothers him for some reason. That’s why he sometimes talks about her as if she’s dead; in his ideal world, she is.”

  “Why?” Battle asked. “Why does he want her dead? Why does his sister want her dead? Have they suffered some sort of abuse at her hands?”

  “I don’t know,” Sheridan admitted. “But I think there’s another question hidden in all of this. I can see why he’s getting a substitute for his mother; he can’t bring himself to kill the actual target of his rage. But why a substitute for Ruth? Why take Abigail to play his sister? He wants to show Ruth that he can “do what she wants him to do” so why the substitute?”

  “Perhaps for the same reason he substitutes the mother,” Dani said. “He can’t bring himself to perform the act of murder in front of his sister. She might turn him in.”

  Sheridan shook his head. “I don’t think so. They have a deep relationship, these two. He said that murdering the mother is what she wants him to do, so they have discussed it, probably in detail. She wanted him to do it with a knife, though, not a hammer.”

  Dani wasn’t sure how much of this Sheridan was extrapolating from psychological insights and how much he was making up off the top of his head. “Why do you say that?”

  “He killed Tanya with a hammer from behind because he couldn’t face her as he murdered her. Abigail said she never saw him use a knife. But Tanya’s body was lacerated with cuts. He did it post-mortem. I think that was how he was supposed to kill her—how he and Ruth had planned it—with a knife.”

  He paced about the kitchen for a couple of minutes, head down, thinking.

  When he raised his face to the people in the hallway, his eyes were slightly wider, as if he’d just made a realisation about something. “Ruth is dead,” he said.

  “What?” Battle seemed unconvinced.

  Sheridan nodded. “That’s why he has to get a substitute for her. It isn’t that he can’t show her the murder because he’s afraid she’ll turn him in; he can’t show her because she isn’t here. This is about revenge. Killing the mother is revenge for what happened to Ruth.”

  “What happened to Ruth?” Battle asked.

  “She died,” Sheridan said, looking down at the floor again and clicking his fingers over and over as if doing so would provide him with an insight. “At the mother’s hand. Somehow. And now Samuel wants revenge. Or he blames himself for Ruth’s death and wants to make amends.”

  “So Ruth wanted him to kill the mother, but he didn’t, and now Ruth is dead,” Dani said.

  Sheridan nodded.

  She supposed it made sense, but they had no proof that it was even remotely close to the truth.

  “How does it help us find him?” Battle asked. “How does it help us save Teresa and Gemma Matthews?”

  “The family might be in the system,” Dani suggested. “There had to be some reason Samuel and his sister both hated their mother. If it was due to abuse, an incident might have been reported at some point.”

  “And if it wasn’t?” Battle asked. “Let’s face it, a lot of these things go unreported.”

  “They might still be in the system,” Sheridan said. “If my theory about how this family unit has split apart is correct, there would have been arguments, incidents of violence. A neighbour might have reported a disturbance.” He thought some more and then added, “I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s some form of psychosis shared by the family members. It could be that one or more of them spent some time under psychiatric care, if not as a resident in a place like Larkmoor.”

  “Probably Larkmoor itself,” Dani suggested. “That place is the link between Samuel and Tanya. Perhaps he was a resident there before he became a delivery driver.”

  “Surely Maureen Williams would have remembered him if he’d been a patient,” Battle said. “She would have mentioned it.” He pursed his lips, seeming to consider if he could be so sure of his words. Then he fished his phone out of his pocket and jabbed at the screen. He held it to his ear and said, in what was probably the most pleasant tone he could muster at the moment, “Mr Williams, may I speak with your wife, please? It’s DCI Battle. No, it will only take a moment. Thank you.”

  There was a slight pause and then he said cheerily, “Ah, Mrs Williams. Sorry to bother you. DCI Battle here. Yes, that’s right, we did leave your house just a short time ago but something has come up and I have a simple question to ask you, if I may. Was Samuel a former patient at Larkmoor House? Mmm, I see. How long? Thank you very much, Mrs Williams. Have a nice day.”

  He ended the call and said, “She’s only been working there a few months. If he’d been a patient before that, she wouldn’t know about it.”

  “The rest of the staff would have recognised him,” Dani said. “But we’ve only asked Maureen.”

  “You need to get back there,” Battle said. “Take Sheridan with you. Morgan, come with me. We’re going to bang on the doors of some delivery firms.”

  “They’ll be closed, guv. It’s Christmas Day.”

  “Then we’ll find the home addresses of the managers and visit them there, won’t we?”

  She nodded. “Yes, guv.”

  Dani stepped outside into the snow, followed by Sheridan. There were more reporters at the crime scene perimeter now. Most of them were sheltering from the weather in their vehicles, but when they saw Dani and Sheridan emerge from the house, they braved the elements to get to the crime scene tape and shout questions.

  Dani ignored them. “You follow me,” she said to Sheridan as he quickly strode to his old, blue Mini. She climbed into the Land Rover, ignoring the reporters gathering around her car with microphones and digital recorders.

  Gallow had said the members of Murder Force had to be media-friendly but
she wasn’t technically a member of the team yet, so she was giving herself some allowances. When they saw Battle emerge from the house, the journalists all made a bee line for him, anyway, recognising his higher rank and hoping he might provide the answers to their questions.

  She turned the Land Rover around so that she was facing the other way and waited for Sheridan to start his car. She didn’t want to race off and leave him behind. His car looked like it might have enough trouble on a day like today without her pushing it to its limit as he tried to follow her.

  The Mini didn’t start.

  “Come on,” Dani said under her breath, watching the car in her rearview mirror. “Let’s go.”

  After a couple of seconds, the driver’s door opened, and Sheridan got out. He half-walked and half-slid up to Dani’s passenger door and tapped on the window.

  Dani buzzed it down. “What’s wrong?”

  “Erm, instead of following you, can I come in your car? Mine seems to have broken down.”

  She laughed at that, a welcome relief of the tension she felt after listening to Sheridan’s theories about the dysfunctional family that had produced Samuel. “Of course, get in.”

  He climbed into the passenger seat and unzipped the huge jacket before putting on the seat belt. He removed the beanie and put it on his lap.

  He saw her watching him and gave her a smile. “I know these clothes are too big for me. I’ve lost a lot of weight since I bought them. I’ll get some new ones in the January sales.”

  She pulled away from the kerb. In the rearview mirror, she could see the reporters harassing Battle and—Murder Force or not—he was having none of it.

  “So you think this guy’s family life is as bad as you said back there?” she asked Sheridan.

  “Oh, yes,” he said, looking out of the window thoughtfully. “Probably even worse.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Samuel stood up and wiped snow off his jeans. Even though he’d uncovered the rock with his sister’s name on it earlier, the new snowfall was burying it again. He bent down to clear its surface and reveal Ruth’s name, but his freezing fingers were useless.