Only Darkness (27 page)

He hadn’t slept well last night, and when he did sleep, he had vivid, unpleasant dreams in which he had to be somewhere urgently, to find something urgently, but kept getting distracted and delayed. He’d woken up sweating with anxiety, and had reached out to put his arms round Debbie. And there was no one there. It had taken him back to those mornings when he had reached out for Angie, and had had to realize that she wasn’t there, would never be there again. He’d felt tears filling his eyes and clogging his nose, and he’d leapt out of bed and under the shower, turning the water on full blast and cold.

The gnawing worm of anxiety had stayed with him all day, finally causing him to shout at Andrea when it turned out that some of the work he needed for tomorrow wasn’t done.
He would have to do something about this. Whatever was happening with him and Debbie, it was unfinished business and he needed to talk to her again. He’d go round to her house when he got back from Manchester. When she got back from her evening class, he amended.

He turns off the lights. It’s done. He has been distracted, side-tracked – this has been the most difficult, the most arduous hunt – but everything is in place now, everything ready. She will be waiting for him – he knows it.

‘Shut up, you little shit, or you’ll
get what the cat got.’

Whisper, whisper in the darkness. The trees are blowing in the wind. The child is afraid of the dark. But the hunter is not afraid. Hunters know the dark places, take them, use them, make them their own.

Lynne Jordan was checking through the latest names from the search through rail employees. As Berryman said, it was a massive task, and even with the new people, they were still understaffed. Lynne wondered how many people the Strangler had kept pinned down over the past two years. Berryman had set the search up so that more experienced officers would be looking at the most likely candidates, and looking at them first. She was looking for trigger events – what had happened to set the killer off? Previous convictions – anything that might suggest an escalating pattern of behaviour. Though, as Berryman pointed out, a lot of what they were looking for may never have come to light.

She felt pulled in ten different directions. She wanted to follow up on the photographs. Something was still nagging her mind about the timing. She was sure they’d missed something, and it was close, like it was on the tip of her tongue. But she agreed with Berryman – if they could find a name, they could short-circuit the whole process. The other questions could be answered later.

She was reading through a folder on one David Nathen. She was tired and it was hard to concentrate. Nathen had certainly had the cards stacked against him. Prostitute mother, alcoholic father, series of ‘stepfathers’. A background that
contained violence and disruption. One of the ‘stepfathers’ had died in suspicious circumstances. Some evidence of abuse – but nothing that had come to court. Mother dead, now. No information about that – she wanted dates and details. Nathen had been made redundant from his job as a driver four years ago. Would redundancy be sufficient trigger to set him off? Lynne had a sudden vision of the whole of South Yorkshire filled with serial killers. Tired, she was tired. No previous convictions, not known to the police. Too many queries. She put the folder into the growing pile for further checking.

The next one was a William Stringer. Another redundancy, an engineer. Background not so obviously a problem as Nathen’s. His mother was single when he was born – had married a few years later – not the father? She made a note to check. The husband had died in an accident over twenty-five years ago – no recent trauma there – mother died three years ago. It looked as though Stringer had lived with his mother. Would her death do it? Would that have set him off? How had she died?
Damn!
The information wasn’t there. Another one for more checking. Anything else? Why had Stringer’s name come forward as a possible? She made a note to ask the person who’d pulled the file out.

She moved on to the next one.

The problem with sleeping pills, Debbie decided, was that they left you dull and muddle-headed the next day. She had woken up late, and pulled herself out of bed feeling sluggish and unrested. Her Thursday morning students were a demanding group – adults who were working for university entrance. They worked hard, and expected the teaching staff to work hard as well. Usually, Debbie enjoyed this group and found them stimulating. This morning, she felt she could barely cope. She would have to pull herself together. She couldn’t go on like this.

She was walking towards the staff room at break when she saw Tim coming down the corridor towards her. It was too late to turn back, so she nodded at him and prepared to walk past. He stopped her with a hand on her arm. She shook him off. ‘Yes?’ She knew she sounded impatient, and she didn’t care.

He raised his eyebrows at her tone of voice, but said, ‘I was just wondering if you wanted a lift back. It is your late night, isn’t it? I could run you home afterwards if you want.’

That was nice of him. He lived in Barnsley, the opposite direction from Sheffield. She was ashamed of her bad temper. ‘That’s kind of you, Tim,’ she said, more warmly than she felt, ‘but there’s no need. Louise is giving me a lift back.’

He looked surprised. ‘She doesn’t work late on Thursdays.’

Debbie explained. ‘She’s coming back to pick me up.’

‘Let me do it,’ he said. ‘It’ll save Louise a journey.’

Debbie really didn’t want his company, and didn’t want to be obliged to him. She would probably have to argue about not inviting him in, and even though he was being very nice at the moment, Tim, when crossed, could be vicious. She just wasn’t up to it. ‘No, thanks a lot. We’ve arranged a get-together after work.’ That was a lie. She’d have to tip Louise off about that. ‘But thanks, really.’

‘Oh, well, just thought I’d offer.’ He didn’t seem too put out. ‘You can’t be too careful these days.’ He gave her a wave, and turned back towards his own staff room. Relieved, Debbie headed towards a cup of coffee, but got caught by a student before she made it back to her room, and spent the rest of her break talking through an essay.

Tim sat at his computer screen and racked his brains. This was his big career break if he could just make it come right. At nine o’clock tonight, he must be the one officially taking Debbie home, and she had to be going on the train. She had to re-establish her pattern, and then he could watch and wait.

OK, he had to plan a two-line attack. He had to get Louise out of the picture, and then he had to put himself in. He had an idea, but he needed some more information. He checked his watch. Lunchtime. He picked up the phone.

‘Hi, is that Louise –

—It’s Tim Godber –

—Listen, I need to talk to you about a timetable glitch –

—I know, I
know,
it’s engineering –

—It’s a bit complicated. Have you got a few minutes if I come over –

—What time are you leaving –

—Fine. See you then. Bye –’

OK,
he knew when she was leaving. He had to make sure she wouldn’t be coming back, or – his idea began to form – he had to make sure her car wouldn’t be coming back. Or wouldn’t be leaving in the first place.

It was late in the afternoon. Lynne had spent most of her shift sorting and eliminating names. You could spend days, even in this time of computer records, jumping from one archive to the next, Lynne reflected, as she tracked names through the systems. In some ways, it had been a useful session. She had managed to eliminate three of the five names on her list. David Nathen was proving elusive. He was no longer at the address last recorded for him, and wasn’t on the electoral roll. She’d tried various other databases and records, where Berryman had cleared the obstacles and had people standing by, and drawn a blank. Other people were looking for him. He had run up debts at the address she had, and then moved on. No forwarding address, no police records, nothing she could find – yet – through his health records. Had he vanished deliberately, and if so, had he vanished for a good reason? Their man – he surely needed a secure address, a place to work from. He could hardly be a random killer wandering the streets – could he? For a moment, Lynne’s convictions about all the careful patterns they had identified wavered. Were they imposing patterns on the random actions of a madman? Once more, that tantalizing feeling of
something
nagged at her mind. She sat quietly, waiting for it to come to her, but her mind remained stubbornly blank. OK, she’d reached a dead end with Nathen. Start again tomorrow – get some people foot-slogging on his trail. She looked at her watch. She was off at eight. She’d just see what she could pull up on Stringer, and then call it a night.

Louise slammed her car door and headed disgustedly back into the college. She was on the phone when Debbie came
into the staff room for her break. She waited until Louise finished and looked at her in enquiry. It’s the car,’ Louise said. ‘It won’t start. I’ve phoned the AA, but I’ve no idea when they’ll get here. I don’t know if it’s something they can fix tonight.’ She looked harassed. ‘Listen, Debbie, if they can’t, I’m not going to be able to give you a lift. Have you got enough money for a taxi?’

Debbie pulled a face. ‘That’ll cost a fortune! I’ll think of something.’

Louise sighed. ‘You’ll do more than that, or I’ll stay in college and walk you home. Now, what are you going to do?’

The door opened behind her. ‘Hi, Debbie, Louise, have you got a minute?’ Tim Godber stuck his head round the door. Debbie groaned to herself. He was the last person she wanted to see. Louise brightened.

‘Tim. You’ve got your car here, haven’t you?’ She ignored Debbie’s frantic signals. He nodded. ‘Listen, Debbie really needs a lift back to Sheffield tonight. She mustn’t go on the train on her own.’

‘Of course not,’ Tim agreed. He looked over at Debbie. ‘Do you want a lift? The offer still stands. I’ve got a load of work to do, so I can stay here till nine and get it out of the way. It’ll do me good, but I’d like to get straight off then, if that’s OK with you.’ He smiled rather apologetically in Debbie’s direction. Louise looked pointedly at her.

‘Thanks, Tim.’ Debbie had no choice. It did solve a problem. She tried to sound more grateful. ‘Thanks a lot, really.’

‘I’ll meet you here at nine, then. Listen, I wanted to talk to you anyway about Matt – in your tutorial group?’ Debbie nodded. ‘I’ll tell you about it in the car on the way back. See you. See you, Louise.’

Debbie and Louise looked at each other. ‘I know,’ Louise said after a moment. ‘If my car’s fixed, I can still give you a lift, but you’ve got something sorted for if it isn’t.’

Debbie nodded. ‘It had to be Tim Godber, though. If you knew how much I didn’t want to spend any time with Tim Big Gob at the moment …’

‘Stop complaining,’ ordered Louise. ‘It’s a lift.’ Debbie
couldn’t think of anything else to say, so she gave Louise a grudging smile, and got her sandwiches out of her bag.

Berryman picked up his files and stretched. ‘I’m going home,’ he said to Dave West, who was typing a report into the computer in the outer office. ‘We’ve got visitors. I’m a dead man if I’m not home on time.’ West grinned sympathetically. His girlfriend had a lot to say about the amount of time he spent at work these days. ‘Phone me if anything comes in.’ He went out of his office, pulling on his coat. He was tired. What he really wanted to do was sit in the pub, have a few beers, a chat with some of the lads, just a chance to relax for a couple of hours. But Claire had a right to a social life too. He supposed. He looked round the door of the main office, and was pleased to see Lynne Jordan there, going through files on the computer and making notes. ‘I’m off now, Lynne,’ he said.

‘About time.’ She didn’t look up. ‘You’ve been living here these past few days.’

‘Guests.’ Berryman’s face was tellingly blank, and Lynne grimaced. ‘Phone me if anything, and I mean
anything,
goes down.’

‘Yes, sir.’

He felt himself relax a bit. He knew he could rely on Lynne to make the right decisions. ‘Who’s on tonight?’ Lynne ran through the list of people on duty. As usual, it was too few for the workload, but it was a good team. He checked his watch. If he left now, he could have a quick pint in the Grindstone before he went home.

Tim typed the last line, saved the report on to disc, and slipped it into his briefcase. He ran the whole thing through in his mind again. The only flaw had been that Debbie had broken her pattern recently, being driven into work and home again by Neave, who’d been behaving like her own personal Rottweiler. Still, that seemed to be sorted, now. Tim gave himself a mental handshake and reviewed his plan. His car needed to break down, just like Louise’s had. The thing was, should he really disable it, or should he just tell Debbie
it wasn’t working? Would she think it was too much of a coincidence? Not if his car had been vandalized like Louise’s – shockingly – had been. Did he have to make the supreme sacrifice and cut his own petrol line? No, he could get away with just taking off the distributor cap. If he had to try the car in her presence, it genuinely wouldn’t start. After all, he could always pick it up later if nothing happened.

Lynne checked her watch. She should have been off nearly an hour ago, but she wanted to get the information about Stringer off the systems. She wanted more information about his mother’s death. Could that have been the trigger event? She had snarled up originally when she’d looked for his mother under
Stringer.
The name was different,
Howard.
So her son had kept his original name. Important? Hard to tell. Each bit of information generated another bit of information. The fax hummed and spilled out more paper. Three sheets. Lynne picked them up and read through them. OK, so Susan Howard had died – in an accident, a house fire. Died of smoke inhalation. She frowned. Presumably, there had been no cause for worry – there was a short article from the local paper about the inquest.
Coroner warns of dangers of smoking in bed.
But something tugged at her memory. She looked at the record again. That was it! Stringer’s father had died in an accident as well. Nature unspecified. Too many coincidences. Something else to look up.
Leave it until tomorrow?
It was tempting, but there was just a chance that there would still be someone there … Lynne sighed and picked up the phone.