ARCHER WAKES THE FOLLOWING MORNING and reaches across for Dom, but the other side of the bed is cool and empty and she soon realises she’s in Waterloo, not Little Venice.
She sighs and feels the sting of guilt that she hasn’t been a better partner to Dom, or to any one of her previous relationships for that matter. She is a closed book and always has been ever since Morrice entered her life and fucked it over. A part of her regrets not telling him, but Dom always appears skittish when the subject is broached.
During their first year she sensed that he was itching to ask her something and she waited patiently, giving him the time he needed to bring it up. It was the evening before she was leaving for a two-week NCA assignment in Wales. They made dinner together, and after downing several glasses of red wine, he came out with it.
‘Morrice . . .’ he asked.
Archer noticed he wasn’t looking her in the eye. ‘What about him?’
‘Did he . . . did he . . . rape you?’
The question surprised her and she wasn’t sure why. After a moment she replied, ‘Not physically.’
Dom puffed out a sigh, slumped in his chair and smiled.
Archer felt her heart icing over. ‘He’s practically been written into British serial killer folklore, Dom. You know what Morrice did to his victims. Everyone does. Rape wasn’t his thing.’
‘Sure . . . I know . . . but sometimes . . .’
‘Sometimes what?’
Dom searched for the words and after a moment he shrugged.
‘Would it have made a difference to us if he had? Have you been thinking all this time that I’m soiled goods?’
‘No. That’s not what I meant!’ Dom raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture and in the process knocked over his glass of wine. Red liquid pooled on the table between them.
The row escalated and Archer packed her bags, leaving earlier than expected for Wales. They didn’t speak for a week, until Dom broke the silence and showered her with gifts and apologies. It took her another week to fully calm down and by the time the assignment was over, she was ready to return to London and patch things up.
She stands and rubs her temples. Things have been going well for them recently. She has taken this role at the Met, which means they will have more time together, despite her decision to move in temporarily with Grandad. She should have involved Dom in that decision. But she didn’t. That was her bad and she has to make amends.
She squints at her phone and dials his number, but once again the call goes straight to voicemail. She doesn’t leave a message.
Her phone pings immediately and she reaches across for her glasses and looks at the device, which displays a WhatsApp notification from DCI Pierce.
Not Dom.
It seems the DCI has just created a WhatsApp group called Forsaken Murders containing all the staff working on the @nonymous killings.
Archer drops the phone on the bed, irked by the sharp tone of Pierce’s message. This will not be an easy briefing, especially considering they are understaffed and, let’s be honest, underskilled. In Pierce’s eyes, of course, that is no reason for a lack of progress and Archer knows, as the SIO, it will be her that will be held accountable.
She considers her options and after a moment reaches for her laptop and phone.
*
It’s almost 9 a.m. and Archer is waiting for printouts from the laser printer. She looks toward the incident room and sees Felton, Os, Tozer and Phillips file their way inside and sit at the conference table, where Pierce is head down leafing through a document. Quinn is missing and she wonders where he could be. Hicks is somewhere in the office; the acrid scent of his spicy deodorant is everywhere.
‘I know what you did,’ comes a voice that startles her.
She turns to see Hicks lean against the corner of the copier, his canine eyes fixed on hers. She holds his gaze but is interrupted by the copier when it stops printing. A paper error appears on the screen. Archer inserts a batch of new sheets and presses the start button.
‘And what would that be, DI Hicks?’
‘You went above Pierce’s head to ensure you became SIO.’
‘And?’
‘Oh, so you admit it then?’
‘I did what was right for this investigation.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You’d be out of depth as SIO on this case, Hicks. You know it and I know it.’
Hicks’s face burns. ‘Who the fuck do you think you are!’ he hisses.
The copying run finishes and Archer gathers the papers into a folder. ‘We have a meeting. I would suggest you calm down and join us.’
She crosses the office, enters the incident room and sits opposite Pierce. Hicks is behind her, all smiles and banter with the team.
The DCI looks up from her papers, scanning the table, checking everyone is present. Archer notices hollows under her eyes; she looks as if she hasn’t slept.
‘Where’s Quinn?’ asks Pierce.
The team look at each other and shrug. Hicks says, ‘Maybe he had a few too many last night, ma’am. You know what he’s like.’
Pierce seems to consider this for a moment.
‘Perhaps he’s just running late,’ says Archer.
‘Indeed. We’ll start without him. What do we understand about the killer or killers so far?’ asks Pierce without preamble.
Silence in the room.
Archer speaks. ‘It’s early days but it’s safe to assume the killer has access to resources and possibly money.’
‘Killer? So not a group, then?’ asks Pierce.
‘I believe it’s the work of one killer.’
‘What makes you so sure?’ asks Hicks.
‘I’m not discounting any theory yet. However, more than forty-eight hours have passed without word from any organisation with an axe to grind.’ She begins to distribute some of the papers from her folder. ‘This is a CCTV shot from Alaska Street of the man who took Billy Perrin. The quality isn’t great and his face is obscured with a scarf and hoodie, however, from our witness statement, he is above average height, which the picture confirms. It also tallies up with the pathologist’s estimation of his height based on the hand size measurement taken from the bruises on the victims’ necks. The killer was able to overpower Billy Perrin, which also suggests he is strong.’
‘Could be Quinn. He ain’t been around much recently and he’s a big fella,’ chuckles Hicks. A murmur of laughter ripples through room.
Pierce sighs. ‘Very funny,’ she replies, dryly. ‘Please carry on, DI Archer.’
Archer takes out more sheets from her folder.
‘These are the ANPR shots of the van driven by the killer.’
Pierce looks across at Os. ‘Good work pulling these together.’
Os’s eyebrows knit together and he begins to fumble with his laptop.
‘Um . . .’
He looks to Archer, who shakes her head discreetly. From her peripheral vision, Archer senses Pierce looking her way.
She continues, ‘The van is registered to Josef Olinski and was part of his small fleet, which as you may recall, was destroyed by the fire. According to ANPR the last sighting of the van saw it head out of Streatham to the A23, and possibly onward to the Anywhere Delivery Brothers location. Because it’s a remote place we lost it after that. That said, it’s my opinion the van was left at the site and the killer took Billy Perrin in another vehicle.’
‘Do we think the Olinskis were involved in any way?’ asks Pierce.
Tozer interjects, ‘Ma’am, we spoke to Josef Olinski’s wife and she confirmed that an unnamed client had requested use of their fleet. He paid very well apparently so neither of the brothers asked any questions.’
‘OK, let’s move on. Is there a connection between the three victims in the cabinets?’ asks Pierce.
‘There doesn’t seem to be any connection other than the three men were homeless. They had no prior relationship of any significance.’
‘And what of the cabinets. Where did they come from?’
‘We found the maker and distributor from the translation of Olinski’s office diary. We contacted him and confirmed they were ordered and picked up by the brothers,’ replies Os.
‘How many cabinets were ordered?’ asks Archer.
‘For this recent transaction, he ordered nine. All paid for in cash.’
‘Recent transaction?’
‘He had placed a previous order for four cabinets.’
Pierce’s face drops. ‘So we can expect ten more murders? That’s just bloody marvellous.’ The DCI shakes her head. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Was there anything else in the diary?’
‘Nothing that sticks out, ma’am,’ replies Archer.
Pierce begins to tap her pen on the table top.
DC Phillips speaks. ‘The application for the exhibition was made by a lawyer acting on behalf of the artist . . . I mean, killer. Unfortunately, both the name and lawyer’s address were false.’
Pierce rolls her eyes. ‘Of course they were.’
Phillips continues, ‘The court order for taking down the videos is in progress. However, they keep popping up on other sites. People copy them and redistribute them making it an almost impossible task.’
Pierce’s tapping increases. ‘What else?’
‘The mobile number in Josef Olinski’s diary remains off-grid. My colleague at the NCA has written code that will alert her if it goes live again.’
Pierce nods her head, but says nothing.
‘Blond hairs were found on the bodies of Billy Perrin, Noel Tipping and Stan Buxton. We’re awaiting DNA on those although the formaldehyde may have compromised the quality. Unfortunately, the same formaldehyde has wiped away any DNA from the coats worn by the three victims.’
No one says anything for a moment.
‘Is that everything?’ asks Pierce, breaking the silence.
Archer looks to Hicks. ‘DI Hicks, please share with us your findings from yesterday.’
‘My findings?’
‘What did you two get up to yesterday?’
She notices Felton glancing nervously at Hicks. ‘Erm . . . we visited some bars . . .’
Hicks interjects, ‘We did as instructed and made enquiries at surrounding businesses.’
Archer levels her gaze at Hicks. ‘What did you learn?’
He pauses before responding. ‘No one saw anything. It was early in the morning and everywhere was shut.’
A ripple of despair waves through Archer. How can she be SIO with a DCI and a DI that clearly despise her?
‘DI Archer, we are at a juncture. What do you propose your team do to progress the investigation?’
All heads turn to Archer.
‘Ma’am, we have no idea when the killer will strike next. That’s a given. Our best chance at preventing further murders is to get more boots on the ground. We need to go back to the homeless and ask them if they have been approached by someone offering them money or if they have seen someone hanging around. Someone must know something. We just need to get out there and talk to people.’
‘Agreed. Please make it happen.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
Pierce continues, ‘I have other news. The Chief Constable has asked me to head up the investigation into the disappearance of Lewis Faulkner. Therefore I will be dividing my time between this case and the search for Mr Faulkner. I will need you to all to step up and support Detective Inspector Archer to the best of your ability.’
Archer shifts in her chair.
‘DI Archer, you mentioned you had a colleague in the NCA who can help us out?’
Archer’s pulse quickens. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Is Charlie Bates willing to release her?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Then bring her in. We need all the help we can get.’
‘I’ll do it straightaway.’
Pierce gathers her papers and stands up. ‘Thank you all. You understand what you must do next. DI Archer will lead the charge.’
As the DCI leaves the room Archer addresses the team. ‘Any questions?’
There are none.
‘That’s it, then. We are all up to date now. You have a part description of the killer and the photos of our victims. Good luck.’
With the exception of Hicks and Felton, Archer senses an excited buzz as the team leave the incident room.
When she is alone she dials Quinn’s number but there is no response. She crosses the office to Mark Beattie’s desk. ‘Mark, is DS Quinn due in today?’
‘I believe so. All leave has been cancelled for the duration of the investigation. I can call him if you like.’
‘I already have. Thanks, Mark.’
Archer decides to wait around for Quinn to show up and uses the time to check in with Charlie and Klara and catch up on paperwork too. One hour passes and Quinn has still not shown up or answered her calls.
Despite only knowing him for two days, in that short time she has come to depend on him. He seems so reliable. Not only that, something about his absence niggles at her and she is worried. Eager to get on with the investigation, she could go it alone, but decides to pay him a call and give him the benefit of the doubt.