‘We have to start talking to these women’s families as soon as possible.’
Tom was back in his office, the Sunday papers spread out in front of him. Kennedy had kindly sent them down, a reminder of what they were up against.
‘This lot are already speculating about the victims and revisiting all their cold case articles. They’ll be hounding the relatives.’
‘Some of the families will be happy with that,’ Ray observed. ‘This one here is about a woman who vanished fifteen years ago. The family is probably glad to see her name in the papers again. It gets the public re-engaged in her case.’
‘Sure,’ the inspector agreed. ‘They’ll all want their loved ones mentioned in the hope it jogs somebody’s memory or inspires a missing woman to return. But they won’t want any of the victims to be their daughter or sister or wife. They’ll become hysterical if the uncertainty around the victims’ IDs persists. We’ll have to send out a memo to stations around the country that we’re focusing on particular cases, so they have something to tell the families who approach them. We’ll keep working closely with the Missing Persons Bureau as well. They’ll be inundated.’
‘Yeah. How are you splitting up the team?’
Ray’s tone was casual and he didn’t look up from the paper he was scanning. The inspector wasn’t fooled. His deputy was praying Tom would send him off to do interviews with Laura.
The dynamics of his team had changed utterly.
For years, Laura had been carrying a torch for Ray, of which he, in his usual oblivious way, had been entirely ignorant. But then he’d started spending more time with the younger detective. When she eventually took up with another bloke, Ray finally sat up and noticed her.
Laura had since dumped the boyfriend and the inspector had assumed that she and Ray would get it together. But Laura was playing it cool. Either she’d gone off Tom’s deputy, or she was making him work for it.
The inspector had consulted his all-seeing, all-knowing wife for her opinion.
‘She’s probably just nervous,’ Louise had stated, decisively.
‘Nervous? Why would she be nervous? It’s obvious that Ray is smitten with her. Jesus, Louise, even I can see that and you know my vision is 2D when it comes to affairs of the heart.’
‘It mightn’t be obvious to her,’ his wife snorted. ‘And even if it is, she was badly burned by him when he went after that poor girl Ellie Byrne that time, wasn’t she? Laura’s got no self-esteem issues. If he wants her, he’ll wait until she’s ready.’
Tom wasn’t unmoved by Ray’s plight. But he was the boss; he had no intention of being his deputy’s wingman, or putting Laura in an uncomfortable situation.
‘You can team up with me,’ he said. ‘We’ll take Fiona Holland and Una Dolan’s files. I’ll assign two to Laura and Michael and the last two to Bridget and Brian. That’s the six priority files covered and uniforms can take the other names. The travel distance poses a problem. We’ll get Laura and Michael to do the two Cork cases – Mary Ellen Lehane and Treasa Lee. The others can take Geraldine Lougheed in Tipperary and then go down to Eimear Johnson’s family in Kerry. We’ll organise those interviews as soon as we get the DNA and dental results back and make matches. We’ll be visiting the families informed, then. You and I can go speak to the Hollands later, they’re only up the road.’
Ray opened the office door just as Natasha McCarthy was raising her hand to knock.
‘Have you got five minutes?’ she asked Tom.
‘Sure.’ He beckoned her in and pointed to his deputy’s vacated chair. ‘Thanks for sitting in downstairs. What are your feelings about the case?’
‘Aside from revulsion?’ Natasha shrugged, fiddling with a gold chain that graced her long, elegant neck. ‘I’m not sure, Tom. I don’t know if I’ll be much help to you in this one. Oh, this weather!’
Tom watched amused as she removed her pale pink cardigan and dabbed at her underarms with a Kleenex from the box on his desk.
‘Don’t look at me like that – I bet you’ve changed your shirt twice already today.’
He smiled.
‘Good detective work. So, do you think our killer is a rapist?’
‘Who knows? We know rape and murder often go hand in hand. Especially when strangulation is the cause of the death. The perpetrator will keep his hands on his victim’s throat to control her during the attack, sometimes with the intent to kill but, more often than not, unaware that he’s actually choked her to death. Both types will come to associate the rush of murder with the climax of sexual intercourse and are likely to seek it out again. Linda would tell you that they’re ‘lust’ serial killers. Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy – they met that description. But I’m not sure that’s what you have here.’
‘How so?’
‘Well, those who kill for lust tend to do it more frequently than once a year. The Americans think Bundy had over one hundred victims. The only possible anomaly you have is the digging up of the body. Bundy would sometimes have sex with his victims’ corpses. But if your killer did that up in Glendalough, Moya would have picked up something from the most recent cadaver.’
Tom placed his elbows on the desk and rested his chin on his hands.
‘I never thought I’d have to deal with something like this,’ he said, his voice thick. ‘I’ve seen all sorts of depravity in this job – but necrophilia?’
Natasha raised her eyebrows.
‘Ah, Tom, if you knew what I’d seen in terms of sex crimes … let’s just say that the dead can’t feel anything. But look, if it brings you comfort, I really don’t think that’s what you’re up against and I think Linda McCarn agrees. The care that he’s showing his victims would indicate that he’s not abusing and disposing of them, as most sex murderers would. I’m happy to be of any assistance, but I don’t think you’ll need me for this one.’
The inspector sighed. He sincerely hoped not.
No sooner had Natasha left than Tom’s phone erupted. He always felt that when Joe Kennedy dialled, the ring tone got more shrill.
‘Sir,’ Tom answered. It was childish but it jarred to use the term ‘Sir’ for somebody that bit younger than him.
‘I’m disappointed you’ve finished your team meeting already, Inspector. I was going to pop in and say a few words.’
Tom had guessed that would be Kennedy’s plan and had deliberately organised the meeting to start and finish before the chief was done with that morning’s gathering of top brass. The priority was getting work underway, not listening to a half hour ‘go get ‘em’ lecture peppered with cringe-worthy buzzwords.
‘My apologies,’ he lied. ‘I just wanted us out of the blocks. Chief McGuinness rarely came to team meetings.’ That was another stretching of the truth. It wasn’t usual for Sean to sit in on an incident room but in a case this big, he’d have made an exception and Tom would have welcomed him there.
Kennedy began to say something, then stopped. The inspector wondered if he’d been about to correct Tom’s use of ‘Chief McGuinness’.
‘I imagine you’re feeling a little at sea, without your former colleague here to guide you on this one,’ Kennedy said. The remark, and its generous tone, was so unexpected that Tom was thrown. Just for a moment, he pictured the man in the office upstairs, sitting at his desk alone – trying to assert himself in unfamiliar terrain with not overly friendly colleagues. It stirred something in the inspector. He felt a little ashamed of himself.
‘Inspector?’
‘I’m here. That’s not an issue, Sir. Of course, I miss working with Sean, but he wouldn’t have been that involved in my day-to-day casework. You might want to run things differently and I’ve no objection to you wanting to sit in on the odd team meeting.’
‘That’s all I ask. I appreciate I’m not long in the job but in a case this big, it’s important we all put our shoulders to the wheel and pull together.’
The words might have formed the sort of banal utterance the inspector was used to hearing from Kennedy, but he appreciated the sentiment.
‘I agree.’
‘Good. Get a quick report up to me so I have something for the press – nothing too juicy, just enough to keep them going.’
‘No problem. You’ll have that shortly.’
‘And Inspector, one more thing.’
Tom waited.
‘If the former chief superintendent does try to become involved in this case, you will remember that he’s no longer in situ? My heart goes out to Mr McGuinness and his wife, but there’s only room for one head of this department.’
It was like being crept up on and slapped in the back of the head. Kennedy had reeled Tom in, then thrown a dig at Sean.
‘Somebody’s here to see me,’ the inspector said. ‘I’ll check in later.’
He ended the call and stared at the phone like it was contaminated.
Kennedy was an idiot.
The only thing that mattered right now was finding this serial killer and establishing whether or not he’d taken Fiona Holland. Kennedy should have been asking the inspector to use his friendship with Sean to avail of his experience and advice. But his insecurity and pride were more important to him than the case at hand.
More and more, Tom disliked his new boss.