Betsy gave her an admiring smile. ‘Of course you’re not. I rather think you’re a woman after my own heart, Chief Inspector Jordan. But please believe me. It might not look like it from where you’re standing, but we’re Jacko Vance’s victims too. The only difference between us is that you’ve only just joined the club.’
48
After Carol’s whirlwind departure from the barge, Alvin had gone back to HQ. Usually, Tony was glad when people left him to his own devices. Even the people he liked. But right now, every time Carol walked out on him, he was gripped with a fear that it might be for the last time. Her visit to the barge had not been a reconciliation, he knew that. She’d come because she needed something from him and that need had transcended her desire not to have him in her sight. What would happen when all of this was over? The prospect filled him with gloom.
When he hated his own company like this, the only cure he knew was work. And so he turned back to his laptop and tried to put Carol Jordan from his mind. But it wasn’t that easy. He kept coming back to his awareness of her pain. He hated to see her suffer, especially when that suffering could be laid, at least in part, at his door. Worst of all, she’d stormed off. He didn’t know where she was or how to help her.
Tony tried to concentrate, but it wasn’t working. It didn’t help that the saloon smelled of the remains of the fish and chips he hadn’t managed to eat. He pulled the bag out of the bin under the sink and tied it in a knot. Then he climbed out on to the stern and walked up the pontoon to the nearest bin, leaving the doors open so the cool evening air could freshen the interior of the boat. ‘If this was a thriller,’ he said aloud, ‘the bad guy would be sneaking aboard right now and hiding in the cabin.’ He turned back, noting that the boat was motionless. ‘No such luck.’
Back at the boat, he leaned against the stern rail and looked out across the marina. The roofs of the boats looked like black beetles, lined up in rows. A few boats were lit up, their soft yellow light spilling in pools on the black water. In the distance a man was walking a pair of Westies. The voices of a group of young men leaving the pub carried across the marina in a jumble of sound. In the old warehouses, now converted to apartments with views of the canal basin, squares and oblongs of light split up the dark facades in random patterns.
‘Motive,’ he said to a passing mallard. ‘That’s what separates psychologists and police officers. We can’t do without it. But they’re really not that bothered. Just the facts, ma’am. That’s what they want. Forensic evidence, witnesses, stuff they think you can’t fake. But I’m really not all that bothered about the facts. Because facts are like views. They all depend on where you’re standing.’
The duck stopped paddling away from him and came back for more. ‘I need a motive for these murders,’ Tony said. ‘People don’t just kill for the hell of it, no matter what some of them say. In their heads, what they’re doing makes sense. So we’ve got a killer who’s murdering sex workers but it’s not about having sex with them. And it’s not about being turned on by the killing because he’s doing that differently every time. People who are turned on by murder have very specific triggers. What pushes my hot button does not push yours.’ He sighed and the duck lost interest. ‘I don’t blame you, mate. I bore myself sometimes.’
He stood up and jumped back on to the pontoon. Finally he’d found a place to pace. Head down, he walked to the end then turned back and walked the full length again, his limp easing a little as his limbs loosened up along with his brain. ‘So if you’re not doing it for the gratification of the killing, what are you getting out of it? What are you trying to achieve? I don’t believe it’s notoriety. When you want notoriety and you don’t get it, you start sending emails to the likes of Penny Burgess. If there’s someone you want to impress, they’re already in a position to get the message.’ He turned back and walked down the pontoon again, more slowly this time.
‘Let’s think about the victims. One way or another, it’s about the victims. Sex workers. You’re not a religious nutter trying to cleanse the streets. A man with a mission, he’s not going to bother with all this elaborate TV series stuff. It’s the cleansing that matters, not some arcane message.
‘What’s the effect of what you’re doing? What does it achieve?’ He stopped abruptly, possible light dawning. ‘You’re trying to scare them off the streets? Is that it?’ He felt very close to something revelatory, something that would make sense of the information he’d been studying. ‘Not them. Her,’ he said slowly. ‘You need her to stop. You need her to come off the streets. To come home.’
He spun round on the balls of his feet and ran back to
‘Is that you, Tony?’
‘It’s me, Paula. Your killer – he’s trying to scare someone.’
‘He’s scaring a lot of people, Tony.’ She sounded exasperated. He imagined it had been a long day without Carol at the helm to steer them straight.
‘I realise that. But there’s one person in particular he’s trying to scare. He’s trying to make her too frightened to work the streets. He wants her to come home. You can see it in the escalation. He started with the lowest of the low then he worked his way upwards. He’s saying, “It doesn’t matter what rung of the ladder you stand on, the bad thing can still get you.” He wants her to understand that, whatever she’s running from, it’s better than what she’s run to.’
‘Makes sense.’ Paula sighed. ‘But how does that help me?’
‘I don’t know. What about Vice? Do they keep track of the new girls on the block? At least they’d know where to go to ask around. You’re looking for someone who’s not been on the streets for long. She’ll probably have showed up in the weeks before the first murder. See what you can find out. Names, background details, as much as you can nail down. Once you find her, you’ll find him. The man who wants her back.’
‘Why doesn’t he just take her back? He’s been taking these other women off the streets.’
‘He needs to kid himself that she’s come back of her own free will. Remember, Paula, he doesn’t look at the world the way we do. Imagine normal motives, then give them a twist. I think this is all about scaring her home so he can tell himself he’s the one she wants to be with.’
‘I worry about you sometimes, you know,’ Paula said. ‘The way you figure out the twists and turns inside their heads.’
‘I worry myself. Did Stacey get anywhere with the
‘Sort of. There’s no regular frequenter of the site from the UK, but she found an email from a bloke trying to contact anyone in the UK with a full set of videos. He’s using a hotmail address, so it’s hard to get any reliable data. But Stacey’s done one of her magic tricks and established that most of the emails sent from that address have been sent from the Bradfield area. She’s also been running the number plate recognition data and she’s narrowed down his base of operations to an area in Skenby. The high flats and a few surrounding streets.’
