Maintaining tight control of her emotions, she continued: ‘You bit her tongue off, then you ate it.’
‘I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t want her crying out.’
‘She never had a chance. She trusted you; she admired you.’
Now the madness erupted. Daniels sprang to his feet, screaming: ‘Don’t give me a fucking lecture, bitch! You were next!’
Langton strong-armed him back into his seat, grunting and struggling. Anna now charged Alan Daniels with eleven counts of murder, including the victims from the United States; to each name Daniels mumbled, ‘Yes,’ to confirm that he was responsible for then-murder. By the eighth ‘yes’, with his bowed head and his half closed eyes, he resembled a sleeping reptile. When Anna reached the last count of murder, he looked up on hearing the name Melissa Stephens. The fear seemed to have gone. He leaned back in his chair. ‘You’ll see. I will never spend a day in prison.’
Anna raised an eyebrow then gathered up the files. Langton was holding the door open for her and she left the room without a backwards glance. It was over.
Later that afternoon, Daniels was taken to Wandsworth Prison to await trial. No hope of bail; his lawyer, Radcliff, never even applied.
McDowell was released from prison once the murder charges were dropped. He was given his train fare and expenses back to Manchester, where he would stand trial for drug-related offences. He would, at a later date, be called to act as a witness for the prosecution. His abstinence from alcohol had made him feel fit and confident, but even as he boarded the train at Euston station, he was making his way to the buffet car.
The tabloids ran headline stories and the newsreels showed old footage of Daniels at every opportunity. They interviewed actors and actresses who had worked alongside him. His celebrity status rose daily. He was a household name. The fame he had hungered for was his, but from his cell in solitary confinement, he was hardly aware of it. Many of the other inmates were eager to get their hands on him and the catcalls and screams of abuse went on day and night.
Langton and the team resigned themselves to remaining in the incident room for as long as it took to pack up their boxes of evidence. After days of preparation, a hundred and twenty boxes of files and statements would be made available to the defence team and the prosecution.
Melissa Stephens had been buried in a small private ceremony. Two weeks later, there was a memorial service and the entire team was present. Her family had arranged a beautiful service and thanked the officers from the pulpit for allowing their daughter to rest in peace at last. The team stood shoulder to shoulder as they sang Melissa’s favourite hymn: ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’. The family did not allow the brutality of her death to intrude into her memorial service. She had been all those things in the words of the hymn: bright, and very beautiful, and she was remembered with great love and pride. The memorial would stay in everyone’s mind as a moving celebration of her short life.
Langton and Anna worked together all day packing up the boxes. When he asked her if she wanted to go out for dinner that evening, she agreed and they decided on Italian. She had arranged to collect him at eight o’clock. She took a long time deciding what to wear. As she searched through her wardrobe, Anna caught sight of the dress she had worn to the ballet with Daniels; she bundled it into a plastic bag and chucked it into the bin.
The Mini had been put into a garage to knock out the dents and receive a thorough valet service. When she learned that her car would not be ready for another couple of days, she booked a minicab to collect her and pick Langton up on the way.
Traffic was light and the cab arrived at Langton’s house a few minutes early: just in time for her to see Nina leaving and Langton kissing her goodbye. Anna instructed the cab to take her straight to the restaurant. On the way, she called Langton and said she would meet him there instead.
Langton was over half an hour late, but he had obviously taken considerable time with his appearance. They sat at a small candlelit table chatting like old friends, although they had not been alone since they had spent the night together. Langton was charming and Anna was not at all uncomfortable; unlike Langton, she knew what the outcome of the evening would be.
‘You seem different,’ he said, once the waiter had gone. They had been making small talk, avoiding the obvious.
‘Do I?’
‘Yes. More confident, perhaps? I don’t want to talk shop all night, but you were very impressive. Your old man would have been proud of you.’
‘Thank you. I had more than my share of self-doubt.’
‘About what?’
‘If I could do it. Or more importantly, ever do it all over again. You know: another case, another victim?’
‘And?’
‘Melissa Stephens turned me round. To see the satisfaction for her parents of him being brought to justice made it worthwhile. That’s how I knew I wanted to stay on the Murder Squad.’
‘I understand.’
‘I did go through one night of feeling sorry for myself, for the web of squalor and abuse and violence we were being drawn into. I even thought that I’d begun to understand how Daniels became what he is. But then I realized that he didn’t kill Melissa because of his wretched mother — that’s what he was killing in the others: her image, over and over — but not with Melissa. She was innocent and he knew it soon after he had picked her up by mistake. He killed her to protect himself. Protecting his image and denying his sickness was more important than sparing her life.’
Langton nodded. ‘In fact, if he hadn’t been stopped, she would have been the start of a whole new cycle where he killed for the sexual excitement. Finally with Melissa he could enjoy sex. It wasn’t just revenge any more.’
The topic they had been determined not to discuss engaged them passionately for the rest of their meal. Langton became quite tetchy when she suggested splitting the bill, but as they left the restaurant he put his arm round her shoulders and offered to take her home.
‘Erm, no thanks. I’ll get a taxi.’
‘What?’ Surprise and disappointment flitted across his face.
‘I meant to tell you in the restaurant. About what happened between us: I want to leave it at that. I’m sorry. It was just that we got to talking about the case?’
‘Why?’
‘Because maybe we’ll work together again and I think we should keep our relationship on a professional level.’
He couldn’t hide the fact that he was totally stunned. ‘If that’s what you want,’ he said, stepping away from her.
‘It is.’
‘At least let me take you home,’ he said, recovering fast. ‘I’ve got my car.’
‘No, really. I want to get a taxi. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.’
‘What was it? I mean, was it something I said tonight? Or did I do something? Come on, Anna, tell me what the matter is.’
Anna took a deep breath. ‘Well, I think you have some personal issues and?’
‘Personal issues like what?’
‘For one thing, your ex-wife still seems to be very much part of your life.’
‘Well, it’s complicated, I told you, because of Kitty and — sometimes, yes: she just shows up, stays at my place when she’s nothing better to do. I don’t see that this has anything to do with us.’
Suddenly Anna felt so much older than him. She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t have anything to do with me, but it has a lot to do with you. Your life is like a tangled ball of string.’
‘A what?’
Anna sighed. ‘A ball of string. Sometimes it’s worth untangling.’
‘What?’
‘You get a ball of string and if you want to use it again, you make the effort to untangle it?’
‘Fucking ball of string? What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about you. Your private life is all tangled up.’
