‘For effect,’ answered Brook for Noble. ‘It’s what he does. The adults are more responsible. They deserve the humiliation and their corpses have to be defiled.’

‘You seem very sure of that, Inspector,’ Charlton said. ‘But I suppose you’ve been carrying his profile around for twenty years, so we’ll bow to your psychological insight.’ Brook declined to thank him for the endorsement. ‘What then?’

‘Then he’s back down to the kitchen. He uses Stephen Ingham’s blood to write “SAVED” on the wall,’ continued Noble. ‘There are smudged marks around his neck to suggest someone dipping fingers into the wound. He places the scalpel under Jason’s hand…’

‘To frame him?’ asked Jane Gadd.

‘We can’t think of any other reason, but it does seem a pretty lame attempt,’ answered Brook. ‘It took us about two minutes to clear Wallis.’

‘But speaking to Wallis last night, we do now have a possible motive for the murders and an idea as to why Wallis was spared,’ said Hudson. Brook pursed his lips and stared at the floor. ‘Jason told us last night that the three teenage victims were responsible for the murder of an Annie Sewell two years ago, the night Jason’s family were murdered. We’re arranging for a DNA profile from the three lads and will look into it.’

‘It doesn’t explain why The Reaper didn’t kill Jason as well,’ said Noble. ‘He’s still a potential witness.’

‘He’s being kept alive,’ said Laura Grant. Brook looked up at her. He gave her a half-smile of approval, which she noted with a glance.

‘Why?’ asked Charlton.

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Grant. ‘But that’s twice he’s been saved despite being at The Reaper’s mercy.’

‘Is that what the blood message refers to?’ said Charlton.

Brook considered the value of sharing information exclusive to him and decided it could do no harm. ‘I don’t think so, sir. “SAVED” refers to us, the community. The Reaper sees himself as a soldier of sorts. He’s killing families like the Inghams to save us from them. And he seems to have found his audience. There isn’t a resident on the estate who hasn’t expressed pleasure, or at least relief, that the Inghams are dead.’

‘Scum in fear, The Reaper’s near,’ chipped in Hudson. Charlton turned to stare at him. ‘Not my words, Chief Superintendent, a group of residents who were at the scene. They were chanting it at us last night.’

‘When they weren’t booing us,’ added Noble.

‘I see,’ said Charlton, tight-lipped. ‘Well, if those residents want to share their feelings with the world that’s their business but I don’t want to hear of any member of this division repeating that little ditty or they’ll answer to me. Understood?’ The whole room nodded as one. ‘Move on.’

‘Finally,’ resumed Brook, ‘the killer finds Jason’s mobile phone and breaks with all previous Reaper method by using it to call 999 — and he does it within earshot of Jason.’

‘He does?’ asked Noble.

‘When we spoke to Jason he said he heard what was said. “They’re all dead”,’ said Brook softly.

‘Christ. It must have put the shits up him,’ observed Morton. ‘Sorry, sir,’ he added in response to Charlton’s glare.

Brook decided not to correct Morton. Jason’s almost casual reaction and subsequent behaviour was something he hadn’t yet been able to work out. A thought popped into Brook’s head and his brow creased in sudden confusion. It was such an obvious anomaly, yet it hadn’t occurred to him until now.

‘Anything else, Sergeant?’ asked Charlton.

‘Only the exit route. Our killer doesn’t leave the Ingham property by the front but climbs over the shiplap fence panel separating the Ingham house from the adjoining property. The house belonging to a Mrs North is unoccupied and there were no signs of forced entry so we assume the killer ran through to the adjoining street, Drayfin Park Avenue, to make his escape. He leaves blood transference from some of the victims on top of the fence and fibre from his clothing. We’re hoping for his genetic material but nothing so far.’

‘Why did he go out over the fence and leave us all this evidence?’ asked Gadd. ‘That’s a young man’s getaway.’

‘Having called emergency services and left the line open he has to think the cavalry are on their way,’ answered Noble, deciding not to mention Brook’s arrival. He looked over at Grant, who seemed aware of the omission, and they both looked over at Brook. He seemed lost in thought.

‘What other leads do we have?’ asked Charlton, glancing at his watch.

‘There are some indistinct bloody footmarks on the carpets and the kitchen lino, sir,’ continued Noble.

‘Footmarks not footprints,’ said Charlton.

‘Yes, sir. We’re assuming the killer wore plastic overshoes. We might still get a shoe type and size but it will be more difficult. The boffins are working on it. Provisionally they believe the suspect wore some kind of sports shoes, size between 7 and 9.’

‘If there are two of them, maybe it’s both sizes,’ observed Jane Gadd to another round of silent nodding. ‘That it?’ asked Charlton.

‘No, sir. From the Wallis house, we have a bottle of wine, freshly opened but not drunk. As DS Grant mentioned it’s the exact same vintage and source as the wine used two years ago. Nuits St Georges from Burgundy. In France,’ Noble added for the benefit of the detective constables. ‘No prints on the bottle or the glasses; also none on the empty picture frame, the mannequin, candle or anything in the Wallis house. They’re still working though.’

‘Anything on the food and drink from the Ingham house?’ asked Charlton.

‘We tracked down several of the alcohol batch numbers to a cash and carry in Leicester which supplies various off-licences and corner shops in Derby. The booze was bought in small quantities from at least five of these outlets over a period of time, making it impossible to trace purchases. Another pointer to a local killer. No luck at the butcher’s, nobody remembers the purchase and no receipts match exactly so it’s the same story as the alcohol.’

‘Anything else, Sergeant?’

‘Only that according to our sequence of events, Miss Ingham couldn’t have watched her son die. Inspector Brook and I believe that to be significant.’

‘Oh? Inspector Brook?’ All heads turned to Brook.

Brook seemed lost in thought still. From somewhere the question materialised in his mind and he roused himself to answer. He spoke slowly, deliberately. ‘Two years ago the Wallis parents had been drugged, but were revived to see their daughter murdered. They cried, knowing they were next. The same applied to Sammy Elphick and his wife in Harlesden, even though they’d been tied up. We found the salt track marks on their cheeks. It’s a Reaper signature.

‘In Brixton, Floyd Wrigley and his…. girlfriend were pumped full of heroin so they couldn’t know what was happening to them or their daughter. They couldn’t cry so the girl was killed without ceremony.’ After a pause Brook added, ‘The parents too. But usually The Reaper wants the parents to suffer for the misery they’ve caused, the dysfunctional example they’ve set their offspring. He wants them to know that they and their family will be wiped off the face of the earth. But as they die he gives them a gift, a sight or sound of something which represents the very best of what mankind has to offer — a great piece of art or a beautiful piece of music. Like Clair de Lune or Beethoven’s Ninth or a Van Gogh print — something to tell them what they should have aspired to. But Miss Ingham and her partner were killed without being made to face either the son’s death or the consequences of their actions in life. They didn’t know they were about to die so there were no tears. That’s why I believe it’s a copycat.’

There was silence for a while as Brook’s words sunk in, then Charlton and Hudson drew things to a close and the room became a hub of noise and activity as officers renewed their coffees or snuck out for cigarettes. Only Brook remained unmoving at the eye of the hurricane, staring into the distance. Noble had seen this before and broke away from briefing DC Bull to speak to him. Laura Grant was there a second before him.

‘Inspector Brook?’ she said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Noble joined the intervention. ‘Sir?’ No reaction. Noble and Grant looked at each other, both unsure what to do.

Before they could ponder their next step, Brook spoke softly, to no one. ‘They’re all dead.’

‘Sir?’

Brook looked up and saw the two sergeants in attendance. He smiled as though noticing them for the first

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