What Lies in the Dark (13 page)

“How had Madison seemed emotionally recently? Did she seem upset or happy to you?”

Mrs Chalmers frowns, the last memory of Madison telling her almost gleefully where she was going floats in her mind. Nice girls did not do things like that. Mrs Chalmers suspects that maybe Madison had been joking.

“She seemed … her usual self really, she was just quiet.” She speaks sullenly, she is missing her afternoon soaps for this? “I told her to be careful out on the streets, that there was a monster out there. She should have listened to me or taken Augustus with her. He’s my son you know, Augustus, he’s an artist.”

Fletcher makes a mental note to have Augustus investigated, either Mrs Chalmers is hinting at something or she is being incredibly annoying.

“Did Madison receive many visitors in her flat?”

“She used to have a flatmate, a really loud noisy girl. I had to complain to the landlord about her. I told Madison
she was far too much of a nice girl to put up with someone like that.”

“Do you remember the flatmate’s name?” No one else had mentioned a flat mate.

“It was something really Zsah … Zsaha … Zahaia … something like that.” Mrs Chalmers wrinkles her over-powdered nose in distaste.

Fletcher thoughtfully writes the names down. “Had Madison complained of anyone following her recently?”

“No, certainly not. We live in a good area,” she says angrily. We are not the common people, her tone implies.

Fletcher fights to keep his face impassive, fighting back against the smell and distaste. “Have you seen anyone suspicious around the flats recently?” He asks the question slowly, knowing the question will annoy Mrs Chalmers even more.

She gives him another angry look, not quite managing to be threatening. “What do you mean by that, young man?”

“Have you seen anyone in your area who isn’t usually there? Someone who doesn’t belong there, looks out of place.”

“Certainly not, I would have called the police if I had.”

Fletcher slowly thanks her for her help, gives the standard ‘please feel free to contact me if you remember any more details’ then ushers her out of the door.

Mrs Chalmers’s overpowering scent follows him as he grabs a quick lunch in the police canteen. He had been too tired to eat breakfast this morning and his stomach is now angrily protesting. He had been too tired for dinner last night too. Claire hadn’t saved him any left-overs and was already asleep when he got home, even in sleep she was giving him the cold shoulder. Just because he said he was going to grab a quick drink with the lads tonight. But, oh no, he isn’t even allowed that any more, Claire just doesn’t understand how badly he needs a break.

The police canteen is full of officers and admin clerks. Fletcher feels them stare at him accusingly, as if to
ask, what are you doing here? You should be working! There will be time for food when this monster is caught. Why haven’t you caught this guy yet? He grabs a ham sandwich and a coffee before retreating to sit alone in the corner. No one joins him. The food tastes like dry sawdust in his mouth and is hard to swallow.

This afternoon’s main feature is a mandatory meeting for everyone working with Fletcher and Bullrush. Mostly it is a recap of the information given in the previous meeting, the personal details of the victims, the methods of murder, explanations and apologies on not already catching this guy. Bullface knows, and Fletcher suspects, that other officers have already approached the Chief Constable asking for command of the case. Chief James Morkam has so far refused, but Bullface knows it is only a matter of time. So far, there isn’t a single action of hers that could be criticised, she hasn’t missed any opportunities, unlike Fletcher, although Fletcher technically cannot be blamed for missing the blood trail. They are still the most experienced and senior officers. Bullface also knows that several other officers are investigating the case on the sly, particularly the ones who had been close to Robert Leona, but they also keep punching into dead ends. She almost welcomes their second pair of eyes but watches them closely. No one is going to make her the station’s scapegoat.

They discuss possible ways of capture – 4.5 million people’s DNA samples are accessible on their database but there are at least 53 million other people in the country. Their assailant is one person or maybe two people out of those 53 million people. None of the DNA samples so far collected matches anyone in the database, maybe the samples collected following Isobel Hilarie’s and Madison Albrook’s deaths would help narrow down the possibilities – they just need a match. If only they could force all males in the city to submit a DNA sample. Not only would that be hugely expensive and time-consuming but also a human rights infringement. But it would help catch the bastard … and probably solve sixty percent of their other open cases too. In Bullface’s dream world, the whole world is a DNA database, and they execute most criminals – consequences be damned. In Fletcher’s dream world, no crimes would be committed in the first
place, no one has the ability or imagination to commit crimes, they would never dream of doing something so shocking. In Fletcher’s dream world, he would be a fisherman not a police officer.

“The fact that he operates during the day and night would suggest he is either unemployed or works odd hours, possibly a job which requires him to work shifts. Statements given by Adelina Sasha’s friends suggest she met her attacker whilst she was out jogging. This, combined with the fact that his dump sites appear to be well planned, suggests he spends a lot of time outside on the streets scoping out new targets. I wonder if it would be beneficial to have female and male officers also on the street, undercover.”

One officer, one that Bullface particularly does not like, speaks smugly. “The method of kill typically has been a slit throat, in some cases evidence suggests that the victims had no prior warning, no chance to defend themselves. If we put female officers undercover on the street then we are just practically giving the assailant more victims.”

“We could increase the number of undercover male police officers on the streets.”

“Who could we use? Most of our undercover officers are already on other assignments and cannot be pulled.”

“We could use regular officers.”

“The problem with regular officers is that they are easy to spot, even undercover. You can take the uniform off but they are still police officers,” Bullface argues.

“The assailant may avoid areas where he can see other males on the street. So far he has attacked in empty areas.”

Bullface looks at the three bickering officers with disappointment, this is their finest? Though to their credit, most of them are actually good cops, until they have to work with each other.

“I don’t think many of our officers, male or female will be willing to work undercover after what happened to Shannon,” she says quietly. “If we put an undercover officer out there, then they would be working without a weapon, no chance of even being able to defend themselves should a
situation arise. Even the citizens are beginning to arm themselves.”

“We need to be seen doing something,” the Chief says.

“We could ask for volunteers to go undercover, I know many of the officers want to help, if we get them to areas where we can monitor them easily on the CCTV circuit, increase patrols in areas most likely to be targeted.”

“But we are risking their lives.”

“We are risking the lives of innocents!”

“No matter what we do, the killer is going to keep attacking until he has been caught.” It is always the quietest voices that say things that no one wants to hear.

“We should consider working with the media.”

“Working with the media would increase the paranoia!”

“We can use the media to control the paranoia,” Bullface says thoughtfully. “Also to step up the appeals for information. Someone out there has had to have noticed this man by now. We can give a basic description to the media.” A very basic description.

“With the amount of news vans trawling the areas, they will probably catch the assailant before we do,” the first officer glumly mutters.

Fletcher finally makes a contribution to the conversation. “We weren’t able to stop Shannon Leona’s death or Madison Albrook’s from making the news. The deaths were too public. It’s only a matter of time before people start screaming serial killer. We need to keep the media under control, use them to soothe the public. There has already been one death because the public are afraid.”

The Chief nods.

“There has been a death?”

“Man tried to sneak into his house drunk, his wife panicked and hit him with a golf club. He died a few hours ago.”

“As you said already, Bull..rush, some members of the public are beginning to openly arm themselves. We need to control this before anyone else gets hurt.”

“Is it ethical to disarm the public?”

“Not everyone is carrying a weapon to protect themselves.”

“A media appeal for information seems to be the best suggestion, we need to warn the public that they will be arrested for carrying weapons in public. Stress that females should not be walking anywhere alone.” The Chief pauses, “We will ask for officers to volunteer to go undercover and increase the patrols. I will cancel all holiday leave and ask for an increase in the budget for overtime. Are there any other suggestions?”

“We could set up a stall in the city centre, to hand out rape alarms and suggest other ways of protection,” Bullface says. One of the officers nods in support.

“We are focusing all our energy on catching the killer, should we not also continue the search for the other victims?” Sometimes Fletcher just has to say something stupid. Some of the other officers look at him in clear distaste.

“We could use only male volunteers this time,” Bullface says quickly.

“I don’t think we have enough officers, budget or time to continue the search.” The Chief counteracts before anyone else could speak.

Fletcher opens his mouth as if to argue but then closes it quickly when he sees Bullface glaring at him.

“If we have an indication that there are other bodies out there, we will look for them, after the killer has been caught.” After all, the dead always stay dead.

He is out shopping. There are one or two items his wife has timidly asked him to pick up and since he is such a good husband, well how can he say no? He likes being out on the streets anyway. He has always felt freer this way. He smiles to himself, knowing the reason he is out here instead of with his wife is because she is too afraid to leave the house on her own. In fact there aren’t any women out alone on the streets right now. He has made everyone afraid. He has just passed a
couple now, she is wearing a yellow jumper, black skirt and has the left arm of her boyfriend protectively around her shoulders. The boyfriend is wearing jeans, a light shirt and is carrying a cricket bat in his right hand. The look on this boyfriend’s face is unmistakable –
Leave my girl alone.
It is not the first couple he has passed who are carrying weapons. It is a delicious feeling, knowing they are all afraid of him. Maybe he should play with one of these couples, bait them into a frenzy. Just whisper in one’s ear,
‘That guy over there, yes, that guy, I seen him watching your girl, mate, better watch out.’
Just to set a spark or two flying, but then that would mean they saw him, face to face. They might remember … but it could be fun. He needs some fun right now, he knows that two deaths in one day means security increases, more cops on the street, the bait staying safely at home. Even he, the cops’ best friend, would be regarded with suspicion if he is spotted on the streets alone too many times. It will start to fade soon, in a few weeks, they will calm down. Then it will be time.

He walks into the local hardware store, he has promised his wife that he will buy and install a second lock on their front door. So she can sleep at night. He notices with an increasing amount of glee that the store has gaps on the shelves, they have sold out of padlocks, combination locks and dead bolts. He smiles, they are afraid on the streets, in their own houses, they are afraid of their own shadows. The fun is definitely beginning now.

The university announces that it will be closed for the entire week out of respect for Madison Albrook and Isobel Hilarie. A large number of the female students have decided to leave the city, return home until the killer has been caught. Some of these students will never come back. Friends of Isobel Hilarie petition the dean for permission to paint a mural for the two students. This is denied – the dean has seen their art work before. A commemoration plaque is set up along with a memorial tree. Out of protest or maybe just in grief the friends and other students tie black ribbons on the tree
branches. The university also holds a large memorial service for the two students, which receives a small amount of media coverage. Students are encouraged to read testimonies, some speak of Sir Izz the Mad, the fearless art student and her antics, shocking several attendees. One girl stands holding a sign that says,
Save a dragon, kill a princess,
which Isobel had previously illustrated with images of dragons and fierce princesses. A few people even speak about Madison Albrook, her lecturer speaks of a quiet girl that people didn’t notice as much as they should have done, but a girl the world is going to miss.

The memorial services held by the university precedes the funerals by three days. The Dean sends shock and anger cascading through the student body when he announces a strict curfew on the students. He states that campus security will be increased. That everyone on campus must now wear an ID badge, anyone without a badge will be escorted off campus. The students are outraged, protesting that this is an infringement of their human rights, arguing that the university has no right, pointing out that the murders have all taken place off campus. The students are caught protesting on a local TV channel and heavily criticised. The curfew is eventually revoked.

He watches the students on the news with interest. The film team has done a good job of catching the rowdiest of protesters, contrasting them sharply with the monstrous images of Madison Albrook’s death. The student protests also mean that the seriousness of the two females’ death is downplayed. He is intrigued. Perhaps he should teach them all a lesson and commit the next murder on campus, but then he doesn’t know the campus too well, knows there will be higher security risks. It doesn’t seem worth it. He is also hopeful that the reaction of the students is an indication of what the reaction of the public will be should a city-wide curfew be imposed: that any official attempt to protect the people will be seen as “infringement of their human rights” and largely ignored.