‘Well, Jonathan,’ urged Mason,’ are you going to mince around all day or are you going to play the bloody thing?’
Displaying no reaction, Wheeler leaned forward and hit the play button, introducing the familiar static preceding the calm, calm voice…
‘Hello again. I’m going to assume I’m addressing the same officers, or I might just get the impression you’re not taking me seriously.
‘Firstly, I’d like you to know that I did not enjoy taking the life of Janine Bluestock. It made me feel somewhat cheated. She was a charming young girl. Very promising law career ahead of her too, until you failed her. Nevertheless, I do feel a valuable lesson has been learned. Maybe now you’ll realise just how grave your situation is.
‘Because of your perpetual errors, a paedophile is still walking the streets. I’ve been watching him. He’s trying so hard to be something he’s not, but it’s only a matter of time until he abducts another little girl. His resolve is wearing somewhat thin. How does that sit in your stomachs?
‘The next riddle will be more difficult and the same rules will apply. If you solve the riddle within twelve hours, I will kill a wrongly acquitted gang member responsible for the death of a garage worker. And if you fail, I will kill a police officer. This time if the messenger is pursued, I will kill them both. The rules are simple. How simple will be down to you.
‘Have you decided yet if I’m insane? Ooh, exciting. I almost wish I was in the room. I mean, come on, am I the only one having fun? Oh and FYI, you don’t need to worry about Abigail Fuller. I didn’t hurt her when I dropped her parents' belongings round to their flat, I’m not going to hurt her now. What kind of monster do you think I am?
Static…
‘No legs have I to dance, no lungs have I to breathe, no life have I to live or die, and yet I do all three.
‘If anybody was wondering, the answer to the first riddle was the letter “a”.
‘Kicking yourself, Nicolas?
‘Tick tock…’
Silence fell like a thick duvet over the room.
Pushing the hair from her face, Newport exhaled heavily. It was the second time her partner had been singled out. She could feel the anger rising inside. Why York? Why now?
Mason pushed herself up from her chair, steely eyes scanning the room. ‘I don’t like this guy,’ she declared sharply. ‘Janine Bluestock, name mean anything to anyone?’
It didn't.
‘No one?’ she pursued. ‘So she’s a random. Holly, find out who this girl is, where she lives, everything, you know how it works. Then get Nick out of bed and get round to her house. If she lives alone or with a partner, make the personal trip to the parent’s home and inform them.’
Newport nodded, wide-eyed. She wanted to smash something.
‘Anybody else?’ Mason added. ‘Let’s start being a little more vocal, people.’
‘He sounds different,’ Wheeler offered quietly.
‘What?’
‘Yeah,’ Braddock agreed. ‘And you know what it is?’ The question was directed to no one in particular. ‘He sounds jovial. In the first recording he sounds more philosophical. Now he genuinely sounds like he’s having fun. And I don’t think the amusement comes from taking lives, it comes from mocking us. This man like is likely to be suffering from some form of childhood deprivation.’
‘Leading him to dress up in his mother’s clothes kind of thing?’
Braddock didn’t laugh.
‘So the murders are just to get our attention, is that what you’re saying? His actual purpose here is just to fuck with us?’
‘Oh no,’ said Braddock, ‘there’s definitely a more potent issue at work here than that. I think this guy craves attention, probably didn’t get it from his parents growing up, or got too much. One thing’s for sure, he’s incredibly smart.’
‘Nick said the same thing, smart, smart, smart,’ blurted Newport. ‘I’m tired of hearing this crap over and over. We know he’s smart, we know he’s ten steps ahead, and we know he seems to have a hard-on for my partner. How about something solid, Braddock, something we can go on. Like what’s the significance of the hearts? Why does he take them, why does he return them, why does he fucking eat them in between?’
Braddock shrugged, unphased. ‘Perhaps some failed surgeon out to get even, thinks the world owes him a favour or a career? Or an underground ring selling organs on the black market? Who knows until I begin building a profile?’
‘So start building!’ she snapped. ‘What else do you have to do?’
‘Holly, right?’ asked Braddock rhetorically. ‘I understand your anger, I really do. Your partner’s name has come up a couple of times now and no one knows why, including me. But pointing fingers isn’t going to achieve anything. I’m here to help, that’s all. I’m not the all-seeing eye, Holly, I’m just a psychologist.’
Newport glanced away. Braddock never raised his voice, never lost his cool. Smug prick.
‘Okay, that’s enough,’ said Mason. ‘Braddock, start your profile. And while you’re at it, look into any gang members who escaped jail time after killing a garage worker recently. There can’t be many. Maybe we can get a heads-up on his next target.’
Braddock shifted his ample shoulders to the right. Was that his affirmation?
‘I have to go and issue a statement’ said Mason. ‘The press have got wind at last, the fucking vultures. Apparently they’re already naming the killings “The Valentine Murders.”
‘Inventive,’ said Newport.
‘Isn’t it!’
26
Frasier.
Leanne.
From the inky blackness they emerged, disappeared.
Emerged.
The images of their beautiful, anguished faces swam in and out of focus. In and out.
