say. He hadn’t talked to the prisoner whose place Vance had taken on the temporary release. He’d been too cocksure to think Vance’s dupe would have any useful insights. He’d left it to Ambrose to do the interviews he should have sat in on, at the very least. It wasn’t arrogance to believe that he’d have got more from them, just cold hard fact. And he’d let himself be distracted by Paula’s desire to have Carol walk out the door in a blaze of glory. It had been a desire he shared. He’d always wanted only the best for Carol. He suspected he’d failed more often than he’d succeeded.
He stood by the stairs, gazing at the macabre spectacle, trying to make sense of what he was looking at. It had to be Vance. Tony had never had any difficulty with the notion of coincidence, but sometimes what your brain told you was happening was exactly the way it was. For this to be random was beyond the bounds of credibility.
There was, of course, another possibility. There usually was.
‘Dr Hill?’ Franklin was shouting his name, calling him back to the here and now.
He turned away from the scene and went downstairs. ‘This wasn’t about sex,’ he said to Franklin, who looked incredulous.
‘What do you mean, it wasn’t about sex? According to the preliminary reports, he killed them when they were having sex and then, after he’d slit her throat, he fucked a dying woman.’ Franklin sounded like a man who couldn’t decide between anger and sarcasm. ‘Can you tell me in what sense that’s not about sex?’
Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘Let me put it this way. Michael and Lucy have been together for ten years or so. If you were trying to catch them having sex so you could get off on killing them while they were in the act, would you choose a Friday after lunch?’ Now it was Tony’s turn for sarcasm. ‘Would you reckon that was the best time to find them fucking each other’s brains out, Chief Inspector? Is that the way it works round here?’
Franklin scowled. ‘When you put it like that … ’
Tony shrugged. ‘I think he just got lucky. He came here to kill them and it turned out much easier than he expected. As for the sex – he’s been banged up for a dozen years. Lucy was an attractive woman. Even in death. And he turned her over, so he wouldn’t have to look at her face.’ He looked at the floor. ‘At what he’d done to her.’
‘How do you know he turned her over? She could have been on her stomach all along.’
‘The blood. If she’d been on her front, the blood couldn’t have sprayed as far as it did outwards and upwards.’
‘Suddenly you’re a blood-spatter specialist as well as a shrink.’ Franklin shook his head.
‘No. But I’ve seen a few crime scenes in my time.’ Tony turned away. ‘Take it or leave it, it’s not about the sex.’
‘So what is it about?’
Tony blinked hard, surprised at the urge towards tears. ‘It’s about payback. Welcome to the wonderful world of Jacko Vance, Chief Inspector.’
Franklin looked uncertain. ‘You seem bloody sure of yourself, doc.’
‘Who found them?’
‘There was an anonymous phone call from a box in a village about fifteen minutes’ drive away. The caller was a male, nothing distinctive about his accent. A local patrol car was dispatched. The door was open, our lads came in.’ The corners of his mouth turned down in sympathy. ‘First time for the pair of them. I doubt they’ll sleep tonight. Does that tell you anything?’
‘It’s Vance. The one murder he did outside his serial murders had the same element of spectacle. What he did then, he’s doing again, now. He’s sending a message. It’s targeted at a specific group of people, just like the last time. And he wants to make sure the message comes through loud and clear. He tipped you off once he was well clear of the crime scene, because he wanted it to be fresh when you got here. He wanted Carol Jordan to see the full horror of what he’d done to the people she loved.’ He felt bitterness like a taste on his tongue. He’d been so slow, so stupid.
Franklin looked unconvinced. ‘You don’t think you’re maybe bigging this up, making yourself a bit too important? Maybe it’s not all about you and DCI Jordan. Maybe it is just a random psycho. Or maybe it’s got something to do with Lucy Bannerman. She was a criminal defence barrister, doc. It’s a job where you piss people off quite regularly.’ His accent thickened, giving even more weight to his words.
‘To the extent where this seems like a reasonable response?’ Tony jerked a thumb upwards.
‘You’re the psychologist. People don’t always deliver… what is it you folk call it? “A proportionate response”? Somebody she should have got off gets sent down … ’ He spread his hands. ‘They order it from inside. Or some toerag on the outside decides topping the brief is a way to earn brownie points.’ He moved towards the tent entrance, reaching for another cigarette. Tony followed him into the open, where a light rain obscured the nearby hills. ‘Alternatively, she got some bastard off – a kiddie fiddler or rapist or something where feelings run high – and some Charles Bronson vigilante weighs in to teach the system a lesson.’ Franklin cupped his hands round the cigarette and lit up, taking in a deep lungful of smoke and exhaling it with a dramatic sigh.
‘In all the years I’ve been doing this job, I’ve never come across the murder of a lawyer because somebody didn’t like the outcome of a case. Not outside TV shows, anyway,’ Tony said. ‘That’s pretty lame as an alternative scenario. And so’s the random psycho. Random psychos tend to be sex killers. And I just explained to you why this wasn’t about sex. Saying it’s about Lucy’s job makes about as much sense as saying it was provoked by the violence in the computer games Michael coded.’
Franklin opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted by one of the technicians calling from inside the barn. ‘Boss? You need to see this.’
‘What is it?’ Franklin threw his cigarette aside with an irritated air and stomped back inside. Tony followed him, figuring any chance to pick up more information about the case was worth taking.
The techie was pointing to where one of the hammer beams of the roof met the wall. A stepladder stood nearby. ‘It’s almost impossible to see it. I saw a tiny flash of light when I was coming down the stairs. You wouldn’t see it in normal lighting, it’s just because we’ve got the crime-scene lamps up.’
‘I still can’t see what you’re on about,’ Franklin said, screwing up his face and peering into the roof.
‘I went up and had a look. It’s a tiny TV camera. We need to do a full electronic sweep. But it looks like
