“I hope a jury convicts him and he spends a very long time behind bars.”
“And is put on the sex offenders register,” added Celeste, who’d been listening in.
“How are you getting on with Father Ed?” Rob asked her.
She rolled her eyes. “I keep wanting to call him Father Ted. He’s Irish too, which doesn’t help.”
Rob managed a grin.
“The family moved around a lot as you know. His father was a project manager for a supermarket company. Every time they built a new store, the family would move.”
“Couldn’t have been much fun for little Ed.”
“No, eventually the father retired and started his own company in Liverpool.”
“And Ed went off to become a priest.”
“That’s right. He doesn’t have a criminal record, he’s DBS checked and according to his Facebook profile, he’s a pescatarian.”
“Good to know.”
Rob glanced at the whiteboard. “Doesn’t really fit the profile, does he?”
“Not really,” said Mallory. “Any history of violence?”
Celeste shook her head. “No domestic abuse charges laid against his father, no social disturbances, no hospital visits. Apart from the constant moving, Ed appears to have had a happy childhood.”
“Still, he could have been in Manchester when Jo’s sister disappeared,” said Rob. “He’s the right age.”
“The company doesn’t have those records anymore,” Celeste confirmed. “There’s no way to tell exactly when he was there.”
“Speaking of profiles,” said Mallory. “Have you updated Tony on the sexual angle?”
Rob nodded. “I tried calling him last night, but he didn’t pick up. I’ve left a message on his voicemail. Are you coming with me to the vigil tonight?”
Mallory grinned. “Do you want me to?”
“Yeah, Jo was going to come but she’s away. I think the two of us should be there, just in case the killer returns to the burial site.”
“It’s a known fact that arsonists and serial offenders often go back to the scene of the crime,” piped up Will.
“Do you think we should go too?” Jenny asked.
“If you can spare the time. The more eyes we have on the ground the better.”
In the end, the entire team went to the vigil.
They positioned themselves in a semicircle outside the church, but didn’t speak to or acknowledge one another. The idea was to keep an eye out for anyone who looked suspicious. Particularly men in their mid to late forties, strong, but socially awkward. Loners.
Father Ed stood on the doorstep under the porch light wearing a smart black suit with a clerical collar. The massive oak door to the church was open behind him, and inside Rob could see rows and rows of candles.
The vicar waited until just after eight, then held up his hands. A hush fell over the crowd.
“Welcome,” he bellowed, his voice striking a rich timbre. “Thank you for taking time out of your busy lives to come and pay your respects to the six teenagers who were buried in Bisley Woods. Tonight, we are honouring and remembering our friends and loved ones with our candlelight of hope, unity, and love.”
Rob let his gaze roam over the participants. They stood together in groups, eyes on the vicar, candles at the ready. He couldn't spot anyone who didn’t look like they belonged there. Every middle-aged man was accompanied by a woman and or a teenager. Husband. Father. No loners.
“I don’t see anyone suspicious, do you?” Rob whispered.
Mallory shook his head. “No, not from where I’m standing.”
Before they’d left the police station in their separate vehicles, Rob had told everyone that if they saw anything suspicious, to take a picture with their phone. It wouldn’t be unusual in a crowd of teenagers, many of whom were filming the vicar’s introductory speech and taking snaps for their Instagram Stories.
The vicar was finishing up now. “As Leonard Cohen, world renowned poet and songwriter, said “There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.” May the light of our candles, both here and online, bring comfort and solace to the friends and families of those who were found here.”
“Bravo,” said Mallory.
“I didn’t know this was being broadcast online?” Rob turned around, looking for a cameraman or a film crew.
“There, to the left of the church.” Mallory pointed.
A dark shadowy figure aimed a camera mounted on a tripod at Father Ted.
“The killer could be watching this from his living room,” hissed Rob.
“And give up the thrill of being here in person?”
Yeah, Mallory was right. It would be so much more of an adrenalin rush to be here in person.
“Let’s split up. I’ll meet you back at the car in half an hour.”
Rob strolled towards the left, trying to blend in. He realised, ironically, that he was exactly the type of person he was looking for. Male. Alone. Reasonably fit and strong.
He surveyed the crowd but saw mostly families and groups of teens. Could the killer be with someone? Did he have a partner? A family?
He wondered what Tony would say about that.
Now the speech was finished, the youngsters lit their candles and held them up, talking amongst themselves. Organ music emanated from the church and some people went inside, probably more out of curiosity than for any spiritual reason.
Seeing the vicar approaching him, Rob moved away from the group of teenagers he was standing beside. “DCI Miller, so glad you could join us.”
He nodded. “Great speech.”
“I try to pander to my audience.” He grinned. “The youth of today aren’t interested in the old ways. We have to jazz things up if we want to keep their attention.”
“It’s a good turnout,” Rob remarked.
He beamed. “Yes, we paid for a social media marketing campaign to target friends of the deceased. Worked like a charm.”
Rob was impressed.
“Do you know much about how the victims died?” he asked.
The vicar leaned forward. “Only what I read in the papers.”
“They went peacefully. There were no signs of violence or a struggle.”
“Praise the Lord.”
Indeed.
Could he know more than he was letting on? The vicar remained passive and engaged.
“I’m glad they are at peace now,” he said.
“Well, they will be once their
