As Jack arrived home, he saw that there was someone waiting for him, pacing up and down. He was young, early twenties perhaps, dressed in a cream shirt hanging loose over denims. He watched Jack as he stepped out of the car.
Jack approached the visitor carefully, who seemed nervous, with some bruising around his cheek, his nose lopsided, as if it had been knocked to one side. ‘Can I help you?’ Jack said, as he got closer.
‘Jack Garrett?’ he said.
Jack nodded.
‘I’m Adam Carter, Jane Roberts’ boyfriend,’ he said, and then his eyes filmed over as he corrected himself. ‘Ex-boyfriend, that is.’
Jack studied him for a few seconds, and from the way that he looked at the floor to compose himself, he guessed that he wasn’t there to cause trouble.
‘Look, if you’re here to cause a scene, I just write stories,’ Jack said. ‘I’m not the villain.’
Adam nodded. ‘I understand,’ he said, and then held out his hands. ‘Don’t worry, that’s not why I’m here. I’ve had enough trouble already.’
Jack pointed towards the bruising. ‘Jane’s father?’
He nodded. ‘How did you know?’
‘It seems like his style, and he’s not exactly your biggest fan,’ Jack said. ‘When did it happen?’
Adam’s shoulders slumped. ‘Last night.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘It made you come here.’
Adam thought about that for a few seconds, and then said, ‘He wanted to know what I’d told the police. I told him that I’d answered their questions.’
‘And that got you a black eye and a bust nose?’
Adam shrugged. ‘He asked me to prove where I was on the night she disappeared, and so I told him, that I was waiting behind the Black Bull for her to turn up, because we had to do this subterfuge thing, where she had to slink around trying to get to me without being caught. He didn’t like it when I said that if he had been less strict with her, she would still be alive, because she wouldn’t have been out on her own.’ He rubbed his cheek. ‘That’s when the punch came.’
‘Don is hurting,’ Jack said.
‘What, so I should cut him some slack?’ Adam said, his voice rising a notch. ‘Why the hell should I? What have I done wrong, except love his daughter? And what is he doing to help find her killer?’ He stepped closer. ‘Nothing, that’s what, except attack me. What good will that do?’
‘And what do you want from me?’
‘I want to tell Jane’s story, so that everyone knows about her,’ he said. ‘I can tell you about Don, if you want. How he makes his money, and why he won’t go to the police.’
‘How will that help find Jane’s killer?’
‘That depends on how you write it.’ Adam pointed towards the door. ‘If we go inside, I’ll tell you all you need to know.’
Jack checked his watch. Two thirty. He wanted to go to Bobby’s school to make sure his father turned up. But then he thought of the story, and reckoned he had enough time. Just.
Jack pushed open the door and smiled. ‘Okay, Adam, let’s talk. But make it quick.’
‘So when will this end?’ Laura said to Joe.
They were both pacing up and down, looking at the house. There was a police officer stationed by the gate and two white vans outside. Laura could see the white forensic suits moving around in the house through the glass in the door.
‘When we catch him,’ Joe said. ‘This is no spree killer, who’ll end it with a suicide. This one is killing for thrills, and so we will have to stop him ourselves.’ He looked at Laura as he said, ‘There is one glimmer of hope.’
‘Go on.’
‘Killers like this get bored, because they spend all their time chasing the next high, or at least one as good as the first time, but there never is a high like the first time.’
‘Why is that good?’ Laura asked, confused. ‘It sounds like he’ll do something worse.’
‘No, they don’t, and that’s their problem, because how much worse can you do? So they taunt.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Like it sounds,’ he said. ‘They spice up the game by taunting, or doing something to raise their own profile. It adds an extra element to the game, and makes them feel like they are getting away with something.’
‘He’s done that already,’ she said.
‘And he’ll reveal more of himself with every message,’ Joe said. ‘Have you ever heard of Dennis Rader?’
Laura shook his head.
‘He called himself the BTK killer.’
Laura looked confused. ‘BTK?’
‘It was a title he gave himself,’ Joe said. ‘Bind them. Torture them. Kill them.’
Laura shuddered. ‘Sounds like a nice guy.’
‘By all accounts, that’s how he came across,’ Joe said. ‘Except that he got his kicks from going into people’s houses and killing them. When he tired of the simple thrill, he started writing to the police, wanting more fame. That’s why he came up with the name, BTK.’
‘Do killers do it for such simplistic reasons, just for the glory?’
Joe shrugged. ‘There are so many complex reasons that no one can ever be truly sure. All we can do is look at patterns and make predictions. Take Andrei Chikatilo, a Russian maniac. He killed more than fifty women and children. He was given names, like the Butcher of Rostov or the Red Ripper, but his motivation was sexual, nothing more. But then compare him to Alexander Pichushkin, another Russian. His motivation was notoriety, nothing more than that. It wasn’t sex at all, which is what motivates most killers. No, he just wanted to beat Chikatilo’s record, boasted that he wanted to kill one person for every square on a chess board.’ Joe allowed himself a smile. ‘He was convicted of forty-eight, and caused a real stink when he was told that, because it meant that he didn’t beat the record.’
‘So if killers are so unpredictable, why are you sure this person will change his tempo?’ Laura said.
‘Because it is all about patterns, and generalities, and best guesses, and he’s already started with the emails.’
‘So for him to carry on emailing Jack is a good thing?’
‘It’s the only link we have to him.’
Laura sighed and closed her eyes for a moment.
‘You sound tired,’ Joe said.
Laura opened her eyes. ‘I’m not going to see Bobby now, because I can’t leave here.’
‘Bobby will be okay,’ Joe said.
Laura didn’t respond.
Joe turned to look at the house again. ‘What do you think Doctor Barker knew that scared the killer so much?’
‘There is another more important question,’ Laura said.
Joe turned to her. ‘Go on then.’
‘Why today?’ she said. ‘What’s so special about today that made Doctor Barker act?’
‘Jack’s story,’ Joe said. ‘There must have been something in that story that spooked him.’
‘The one that we told him to write.’ Joe didn’t respond, so Laura added, ‘But the only detail that was really added was that Jane had debris jammed into her.’
‘Which means that I was right, that the method is not new,’ Joe said. ‘Doctor Barker was a child psychologist. He must be one of Doctor Barker’s former patients. If the detail about the debris was enough to make him drive over to Blackley, it must be something that the killer used as a child.’
‘And from around here,’ Laura said. ‘The killer knew that Doctor Barker would recognise it, and so he silenced him.’
Joe nodded. ‘It looks that way.’
Laura paused as she thought of that, before saying, ‘Do you think that the killer knew the doctor had been to Blackley?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘It just seems such a coincidence, that the killer is operating in Blackley but suddenly he panics and kills a doctor forty miles away. For all he knew, Doctor Barker may not have even seen the article, or even if he had, might have chosen to do nothing about it.’
Joe thought about that and then said, ‘What do you think?’
‘Doctor Barker was at the police station,’ Laura said. ‘The emails boasted that he would know if Jack spoke to the police. He knew about me and where to find me. There was something jammed into Doctor Barker’s mouth, and so we know that it was the same killer.’ Laura grimaced. ‘Do you really think the murderer might be a police officer?’
Joe looked at Laura for a few moments, and then he said, ‘I don’t want to think about that. I’ll go see if they’ve found anything.’
Laura watched as Joe walked towards Rupert’s front door. He spoke to someone inside, and when he walked back towards her, he was pulling at his lip.
‘What is it?’ Laura asked.
Joe looked up. ‘I think we both need a drink,’ he said. ‘There is no doubt about the connection now.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I know what was jammed into Doctor Barker’s mouth.’
‘Go on.’
‘A pair of knickers,’ he said. ‘A young woman’s knickers, from my guess. Small and with a pink bow on one of the hips.’
‘They sound like the pair worn by Jane Roberts,’ she said, and then Laura realised why Joe was scowling. ‘They are Jane’s knickers.’
Joe nodded. ‘At least I was right about something, because if he decided to use them to gag Doctor Barker, he did it for one reason: to taunt us.’