nanosecond about opening their files. Once he’d pointed out to them how closely the victims overlapped their primary source of income, and how quickly that income stream could disappear once the media got hold of RigMarole’s reluctance, they’d finally seen the light and agreed to hand over the access codes to Stacey and open their hard copy files to him. The contents of those files had turned out to be minimal and a complete waste of time. It was infuriating when he was so close to being ready to confront Nigel Barnes.
The tedious drive back from Worksop gave Sam plenty of time to plan his tactics, against both Carol and Barnes. He had to get the DCI on side. This was the sort of case break that would make him hard to ignore in the upper echelons of Bradfield Police, but it was also in the interests of Carol herself and the MIT. That gave him a better than even chance of getting her to agree that he could arrest Barnes on suspicion of something.
It was a pity he couldn’t haul Tony in on his side of the argument. But he knew better than to show Carol he’d gone behind her back. The last time one of the team had played away with Tony, she’d just about lost her mind. And that had been her blue-eyed girl Paula. He’d just have to persuade her they had enough to make it worthwhile.
He looked at the dashboard display as he left the M1. With luck, he’d be back in Bradfield by eight. Carol would still be at her desk. After all, what else would she be doing on a Saturday night in the middle of a double murder inquiry? It wasn’t as if she had a life.
CHAPTER 30
The digital recorder on the kitchen table was the first thing Tony noticed when he came down for breakfast. ‘Not yet,’ he said aloud as he filled the coffee machine. He needed time to work out the implications of what Carol had told him the day before. He had to figure out the meaning of Vanessa’s story before he could listen to Arthur and weigh his version against hers. If indeed there was any significant difference between the two.
But Carol, who generally had good instincts about these things, had reminded him that Vanessa was not to be trusted. A woman who tried to cheat her only child out of an inheritance would have few scruples when it came to rewriting history.
All the same . . .
To keep himself from temptation, he fetched his laptop and logged on to the website of the
It was the main story on the paper’s home page. Tony clicked on the link and read their account. There was a fair amount of padding, but the heart of the story was pretty scant. Two fourteen-year-old boys who had no connection to each other had gone missing without explanation. They seemed to have vanished into thin air. Their murdered and mutilated bodies had been found in remote locations outside the city. Police believed they might have been lured to meet their killer via internet social-networking sites.
He couldn’t help thinking of Jennifer Maidment. A hundred miles and a different gender. But a lot of similarities. He shook his head vigorously. ‘You’re reaching,’ he said. ‘You want to find a connection so you can get your foot in the door with Carol’s cases. Get a grip, man.’
He clicked on the thumbnail pictures of the two boys. First Daniel, then Seth. He cut back and forth between them, wondering if he was imagining things. He picked up the laptop and went through to his study. He plugged it into the printer and printed out both photographs, in black and white to make comparison easier. As an afterthought, and in spite of the critical voice gibbering in his ear, he also printed out a photograph of Jennifer.
Tony took the three shots back to the kitchen and laid them across the table. He poured himself a coffee and stared at them, frowning. He wasn’t making this up. There was a distinct resemblance between the three teenagers. A disturbing thought was worming its way to the front of his mind, refusing to be ignored. It was a given that serial killers often had a physical type. If gender wasn’t relevant to this killer but physical type was, then maybe Tony wasn’t so crazy to link Jennifer to the two boys.
He needed more information. And Carol certainly wasn’t going to give it to him. Not after her lecture about refusing to exploit him.
But there was someone who might. Tony reached for his phone and dialled. At the third ring, a wary voice said, ‘Tony? Is that you?’
‘It is, Paula.’ Then, remembering how it went between people who liked each other, he said, ‘How are you doing?’
‘We’ve got two murders on the go, Tony. How do you think I’m doing?’
‘I take your point. Listen, Paula. I’ve got something to ask you.’
‘If it’s to do with the case, the answer’s no. Last time you asked for my help, the chief tore me a new one for going behind her back.’
‘But we were right,’ he said. ‘Who knows how many other people might have died if you hadn’t done what I asked you to? And I only asked you because I couldn’t do it myself.’
‘Yeah, well, you’re better now. Your leg’s not in a splint any more. You can do your own running around.’
‘You are one tough woman, Paula,’ he said, the admiration genuine.
‘I need to be, around the likes of you.’
‘Listen, I’m not asking you to do anything for me, not as such. I just need you to answer one question, that’s all. One simple question. Surely you can do that for me? After all we’ve been through together?’
A snort of something that might have been laughter or disgust. ‘Christ, Tony, you don’t give up, do you?’
‘No, I don’t. And neither do you. So you should sympathise.’
A long pause. A sigh. ‘Tell me the question. No promises, mind.’
‘Your two victims. It says in the paper their bodies were mutilated. Were they both completely castrated? Penis and testes?’
