Ten minutes later, they emerged into the clearing.
“Well done!” She laughed, recognising the burial ground from the photographs.
“Thank God. I thought I’d got us totally lost.”
Jo walked around, studying the five open graves, the mounds of dirt discarded beside them. The police cordon had been taken down, but it was obvious something sinister had occurred here. It resembled a seen from a Zombie apocalypse movie.
“Where was Arina buried?” she asked.
“To the left, just beyond those trees.”
“So not in the clearing?”
“No, she was under that huge oak.”
“I wonder why he decided to bury her there, when he buried the others in the clearing.” She glanced up at the sky. It was barely visible between the overhanging branches. Slithers of grey beyond the pine.
“Maybe he ran out of space.” The clearing wasn’t very big.
Jo peered back the way they’d come. “Do you think he came this way? From the church?”
“It’s a long way to carry a body. It’s more likely he pulled up in a vehicle of some sort. The road is less than a mile that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction. “This clearing is actually fairly isolated. It’s not even on a map of the common. You’d have to be a local to know it was here.”
“Either way, he would have had to carry the bodies a fair distance,” Jo said. “He’d have to be strong to do that. Unless they were alive when he brought them here.”
Rob shook his head. “The way they were posed, the sheeting, the clips in their hair... I don’t think he did that here.”
“I agree. It’s more likely he carried them, already prepared for burial.”
“Tony said he was protecting them from something.”
Jo studied him. “From what? Their parents? The sexual or physical abuse?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. What else could it be?”
Thunder rumbled in the background. He glanced up. “It’s going to bucket down.”
Jo wrapped her arms around him and they hugged. In the middle of the clearing. It didn’t seem nearly so creepy anymore.
“We’ll find him,” she said, breaking away. “We’ll get the bastard who did this.”
43
“Haven’t they been through enough?” growled Rob as they stared at the flatscreen television mounted on the squad room wall. It showed a live news broadcast of Chrissy Macdonald’s parents being interviewed.
“Turn it up,” someone called.
Jenny, who was closest to the remote, increased the volume.
“We’re just glad to have some closure,” Mrs Macdonald was saying. “Now we can grieve properly for poor Chrissy.”
Her husband stood beside her staring at his feet.
Rob clenched his jaw.
“Makes you sick, doesn’t it?” Jo came up beside him. “Knowing what he’s done. Knowing what they all did.”
Rob gestured to the TV. “What does this achieve? Nothing. It’s only going to bring them more heartache. Now they’re going to see their daughter’s face every time they open a newspaper.”
“Are there any leads in the case?” the reporter, a slick brunette was asking.
“Nothing we know of,” she replied.
Rob rolled his eyes. Not an hour ago they’d issued a press release divulging the identities of the bodies found in Bisley Wood and here they were hounding the parents. Typical.
Evan came up to him. “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to drive through to Dorking tomorrow morning and see if I can catch Mrs Macdonald while her husband’s out?”
“Absolutely, good idea.”
Circumstantial evidence, hearsay, guesswork. They didn’t have anything that actually proved the girls were abused. A fact that the Detective Chief Superintendent pointed out to him in his office after the broadcast.
“Get some DNA Rob, something finite that we can act on. All this supposition is getting us nowhere. So what if they were all abused? Unless we can prove it, we can’t use it.”
“It does show a connection between the victims, sir,” he pointed out.
“We need to find the killer, not more dead girls. Jesus wept.” He paced up and down his office. “I’m not even going to tell you what the Commissioner said.”
Rob sat down wearily.
“They want to send in someone from Major Crimes to take over the investigation. It’s only your reputation that’s holding this taskforce together, Rob. I can’t keep the wolves at bay for much longer.”
Shit.
The last thing they needed was some bigwig waltzing in and taking over the case. It would be like starting from scratch.
“The case is too complex,” he said. “It would take anyone days to catch up, and I don’t care how experienced they are.”
Lawrence shrugged. “Then find something, Rob. And find it soon. To be honest, I’m tempted to hand this entire mess over to someone else.”
“You don’t mean that, sir?”
He grunted. “Just find me something concrete to tell the Commissioner. That way we can all keep our jobs.”
The Shepherd watched as Chrissy’s parents were interviewed.
What hypocrites!
How could they stand there and talk about grieving their daughter when they’re the ones who’d made her life a misery.
You’re the reason she had to die, he hissed at the screen. You, with your filthy urges and animalistic desires.
She’d never have sought him out, otherwise.
He seethed as the journalist asked leading questions about the investigation, about the detective in charge. DCI Rob Miller. Except he was never the one giving the press releases. It was always that other bloke, the good-looking mixed-race one. The type of image the police force wanted to portray.
He’d glimpsed DCI Miller at the burial ground so he had a clear image of the man hunting him. Tall, purposeful, with a determined walk. He’d be a worthy adversary.
But he wouldn’t catch him for he had the Lord on his side.
He was untouchable.
Guided by the path of the righteous, he led the little children to safety. He ended their pain and suffering. He was their salvation.
Switching off the television, he wondered if he had time to go to church and light a candle for the dead before his next appointment.
44
Jo left for Manchester early the next morning.
As the train pulled out of London Euston station, she leaned back in her chair and watched the tall concrete apartment and corporate buildings, mostly covered
