The Disciple

case against a suspect, even if we’d been able to identify one.’

Grant looked up at him with a half-smile on her face.

‘This time it’s different. The killer has left us with a lot of evidence to go at. For that and other reasons that we’ll go into tomorrow, we’re working on the theory that this may be a copycat. Certainly there was no suggestion of a Derby man being involved in any of The Reaper killings, including the Wallis case two years ago. That is a piece of information to be given to no one outside this room.’ Brook paused to look round the room to ensure his message had been understood. ‘And with the evidence we’re compiling there’s a much better chance of catching last night’s killer. However, if it is a copycat, there’s a much higher probability of him striking again soon so we need to be on our mettle. Even more so than usual,’ he added as an afterthought to stroke a few egos. Brook wasn’t a natural people person, but bitter experience had taught him that most people needed encouragement.

‘All your assignments are absolutely crucial to the investigation as a whole so please don’t think that if you’re being asked to trace the origin of the barbecue from the scene, you’re just following up a minor lead. Nothing we ask you to do is unimportant and the smallest detail could be critical.’

Brook turned to Charlton.

‘And let me say again so there’s no confusion,’ said Charlton. ‘Anybody who thinks it’s okay to talk about details of this investigation to anybody, even if it’s about the colour of the elastic bands in the Incident Room, will find themselves in serious trouble. Now let’s move with a purpose, people.’

Brook stood back slightly from Hudson and Grant as they spoke to the hospital reception and fished the vibrating phone out of his pocket. He located and pressed the answer button, gluing it to his ear.

‘John. What?’

‘Good news. Ish.’

‘Go on,’ he said, ignoring Noble’s linguistic mangling. ‘The thumbprint on the mobile phone is not yours and it’s not Jason’s either.’

‘So it could be the killer’s.’

‘Looks that way. However, there are no matches on the system. Whoever did this has a clean record.’

‘It’s something to go on.’ Brook was silent for a moment. ‘John. Any chance you could check the print against IAFIS?’

‘IAFIS?’

‘That’s the US fingerprint database.’

‘You’re well informed.’

‘There’s a civil section for government employees, FBI, people like that. You might need some kind of permission.’

‘Care to tell me why?’

‘It’s complicated.’

‘I see. It’s keep me out of the loop time again, is it?’

‘It’s only a hunch. But forget I asked, John.’

‘Okay, okay, I’ll see what I can do. Is Hudson with you?’

‘Why?’

‘We’ve got the results from your tests and I want him to hear them from me. Pass him the phone please, sir.’

Brook waved the phone at Hudson. ‘For you, Joshua.’

Hudson took the phone. After listening intently for a few seconds, he nodded. ‘Very good, John. Never doubted it.’

The police constable babysitting Jason Wallis stood behind the doctor. He made a drink signal to Brook who inclined his head and the fresh-faced young PC turned and headed down the corridor.

Brook peered at the curtain, behind which lay Jason Wallis, and wondered how the youngster would react to seeing him again. The morning after Jason’s family had been butchered, Brook had been greeted by a face of hate as Wallis, unaware of events, had paraded his contempt for the police and all authority. By the end of that interview, the fifteen-year-old Jason had been jolted back to his childhood with questions about the murder of his parents and younger sister. A few well-chosen photographs had sealed the deal. Jason’s lip had wobbled and he’d wept for the first time in years — for his family, yes, but primarily for himself. What’s going to happen to me? What would his reaction be now?

‘We’ve sent a blood test off to your Forensics people but physically he seems fine, if a little out of it,’ said the doctor, addressing Hudson. ‘If you ask me he’s probably just had too much to drink and maybe a few too many puffs of marijuana. These substances always lower body temperature which explains the mild hypothermia. We’ll keep him in overnight to be sure, but the main problem is likely to be shock.’

‘What about stomach contents?’ asked Brook.

‘We did pump his stomach in case of toxins but it was virtually empty,’ replied the doctor, checking his chart.

Brook’s eyes narrowed. ‘Empty? He went to a barbecue. You’re saying he didn’t eat any meat?’

‘Some breakfast cereal, that’s all. Your people can tell you what kind,’ he added with a shrug.

‘Thanks, Doctor.’ Hudson turned towards the screen as the doctor strode out of the ward. ‘Well, if he saw anything of what went on last night he could be in shock for a while.’

Brook smiled. ‘Don’t underestimate the power of self-absorption, Joshua.’ Neither Hudson nor Grant understood his meaning.

A middle-aged woman with short grey hair and sober apparel emerged from behind the screen. ‘Hello, officers. I’m Maureen Welch. The social worker,’ she added in lowered tones, looking around as though hoping no one else would hear.

‘How is he?’ asked Grant.

‘See for yourself.’ She stood aside and ushered them to Jason’s bedside.

Jason Wallis had grown since Brook had last seen him, doped up and helpless in his aunt’s house in nearby Borrowash. That wild and stormy night Brook had donned The Reaper’s mantle and confronted young Wallis, offered him a way out from under the knife. But Jason Wallis had called his bluff.

Maybe he should have arrested Jason for Annie Sewell’s murder when he had the chance. But it wasn’t his case and, after much soul-searching, he’d decided that fear of The Reaper’s return would be a more effective deterrent to Jason and his gang of teenage killers, robbing them of the peace of mind they might achieve in a locked cell. For all Jason knew The Reaper could return at any time to finish his work in Derby. Funny thing: The Reaper had returned but Jason was still breathing.

Brook looked him full in the face. His hair was a little longer than before and his face less spotty and perhaps a touch thinner. What was more striking, however, was Jason’s demeanour. Where once he was snarling and scornful, now he seemed quiet, reflective. Instead of looking up to greet his visitors with suspicion and loathing, Jason remained motionless, merely glancing up. His eyes flicked momentarily towards Hudson and Grant but when he spotted Brook, they lingered for a few seconds longer.

Brook prepared himself for accusations, for finger-pointing. But if Jason remembered that night, he showed no sign. He was sitting up in bed, his eyes open, but seemed hardly aware of his surroundings. His eyes looked glazed as he resumed his thousand-yard stare, not even flinching when Grant waved her hand in front of his face. Brook wondered if he’d been given some kind of sedative.

‘The doctor didn’t tell us he’d been doped up,’ grumbled Hudson.

‘Oh, he hasn’t,’ offered Maureen Welch. ‘They’ve given him nothing. That’s how he is.’ She moved to sit in a visitor’s chair at the side of the bed.

‘Jason. I’m Detective Chief Inspector Hudson. This is Detective Sergeant Grant and this is…’

‘I’m ready.’ Jason spoke softly but his voice seemed to echo around the room like a clap of thunder. For a moment the three officers looked at each other blankly.

‘That’s what he keeps saying,’ chipped in Maureen Welch. ‘“I’m ready.” That’s what he says.’

Then Jason did the last thing Brook had expected. His face was suddenly transformed by a friendly grin. ‘Hello, Inspector Brook.’