Brown’s backside was numb. It was the third consecutive night he’d spent in the back of the transit van, keeping pointless observations on the front door of Brandon Towers while a colleague did the same at the back. In that time, he’d witnessed a dozen or so criminal acts and public order offences: exchanges of money for drugs, two assaults, four incidents of criminal damage and five separate acts of urinating in a public place. Just now he wished that he could do the same himself.
Checking his watch, comforted by the fact that his replacement was due, he began counting down the minutes ’til he could go home to a warm bed.
Friday, 15th January arrived with a hard frost and brilliant winter sunshine, sweeping away the gloom of the past few days. A search of Brandon Towers had led to the conclusion that Forster was clever and sophisticated. Having escaped from the tower block via an old maintenance shaft, he had now gone to ground.
In the murder incident room, DC Lisa Carmichael was on the phone making enquiries. Daniels suspected that the outcome was a foregone conclusion. She didn’t have to wait long to have her suspicions confirmed.
‘OK thanks, you’ve been a great help.’ Carmichael put the telephone receiver back on its cradle and shook her head. ‘Forster’s not signed on with the DSS.’
‘And the close protection team?’
‘Report a no-show with Jo.’
‘Figures . . .’ Daniels sighed. ‘He could be anywhere, doing anything – which is why we need to go the extra mile to find him. Hank said you’d managed to locate copies of the magazine?’
Carmichael nodded.
‘Same issue?’
‘Complete set,’ the DC said proudly. She shivered. ‘This guy gives me the creeps, boss. We’ve nicknamed him The Editor for cutting out those articles. I reckon he must’ve thumbed that magazine a thousand times.’
‘Call him what you like as long as you’re as good at locating people through unofficial channels as he is.’ Daniels put a hand on her young DC’s shoulder. ‘You’re doing brilliantly, Lisa. People are in grave danger and I need your expertise to get him off the streets. Think you’re up to it?’
Carmichael nodded enthusiastically. ‘I’ll give it my best shot.’
Lisa worked tirelessly, with surprisingly quick results. Within hours she’d found a reference to Alan Stephens in a local newspaper’s archive: the article reported his appointment as fund-raising director for Kidney Research – a role he’d accepted just days before his death. Although his address hadn’t been printed in the publication, Daniels didn’t think it would have taken a resourceful offender like Forster very long to find him.
Two phones rang simultaneously.
Carmichael and Daniels both picked up.
A few minutes later, Daniels ended her call. ‘OK, keep me posted.’
‘I’ll tell her.’ Carmichael rang off too.
‘Tell me what?’ Daniels said.
‘I had someone in technical support give Forster’s computer the once-over. He’s definitely been tracking his victims via the Internet. They already sent me a batch of deleted files; information he dumped in his recycle bin thinking he’d got rid of it permanently. He’s not clever enough to realize we have ways of retrieving data from his hard drive. Jenny Tait’s retirement was among the second batch of recovered files. She’d had a long career as a nurse, apparently, devoted her entire adult life to looking after others. It’s sickening, when you think about it.’
‘Ironic, isn’t it?’ Daniels said. ‘Forster was practically illiterate when he went inside. The education department targeted him for specialist help, extolling the virtues of his right to read and write. Later, they praised his new-found computer skills, held him up as some kind of success. If you ask me, they just made him more dangerous.’
‘That’s rehabilitation for you.’
Daniels pointed at the Living Faith magazine on Carmichael’s desk. ‘He’s been staring at the pages of that magazine for the past two decades planning this. Don’t take this the wrong way, Lisa, but I want you to forget the ones we know are dead already. It’s too late to help them now. Try and trace the targets ringed in red. Forster’s finding his victims somehow. Either he’s been hacking into government databases, or there’s information about this lot in the public domain. By the way, don’t waste your time looking for Dorothy Smith – she’s just been reported missing.’
Leaving Carmichael to her work, Daniels turned her attention to Forster’s parents. On the surface they seemed nice enough, and yet they’d abandoned their son when he most needed them, a copy of Living Faith their only gift to him in over twenty years. No doubt it had been passed on with all good intentions, yet in a bizarre twist of fate, their gift had kick-started an unhealthy obsession which had culminated in the deaths of innocent people. Years of frustration and resentment had gone into creating the monster that Forster had become – and all because he’d been ignored, overlooked. This wasn’t some halfwit scrambling around in the dark; Forster was clever, imaginative and thorough – his plan well rehearsed and meticulously constructed over a lengthy period of time.
Typing a command on the keyboard in front of her, Daniels brought up a list on screen. She updated the outstanding action to trace Dorothy Smith with just two words: REPORTED MISSING. The list made chilling reading:
|
SUSAN THOMPSON: |
DECEASED (Natural Causes) |
|
SEAMUS DOWD : |
ACTION – TRACE |
|
ALAN STEPHENS (Newcastle): |
VICTIM (Deceased) |
|
JENNY TAIT (Durham) : |
VICTIM (Deceased) |
|
JAMIL MALIK (Birmingham): |
VICTIM (Deceased) |
|
DOROTHY SMITH (Cumbria): |
REPORTEDMISSING |
|
NATHAN BAILEY: |
DECEASED (Natural Causes) |
|
FRANCES COOK: |
ACTION – TRACE |
|
IAN COCKBURN (Australia): |
SAFE AND WELL |
|
KEVIN BROUGHTON: |
DECEASED (Natural Causes) |
|
MALCOLM WRIGHT: |
ACTION – TRACE |
|
MAUREEN RICHARDSON: |
ACTION – TRACE |
Gormley wandered over and stood behind her. He was having trouble getting used to a pair of bifocals, a recent acquisition. He hadn’t been able to put off the evil day any longer and had finally owned up to failing eyesight. Tipping his head back slightly, he peered at the screen to see what was making her look and sound so glum.
‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘Pound to a penny the bastard’s got another one . . .’ Daniels pointed to the screen. ‘Dorothy Smith hasn’t been seen for days. My guess is she’s already dead. Cumbria force is joining the hunt. Which is good – we need all the help we can get.’
‘Welcome to the party,’ Gormley said drily, pulling up a chair. ‘So, assuming Dorothy Smith is dead and Ian Cockburn is far enough out of harm’s way, that only leaves four.’
‘Three,’ Daniels corrected him, updating the list again. ‘Malcolm Wright is safe and well in Cherbourg. He’s scared shitless. The French authorities are making arrangements to babysit him.’
‘They better hurry up.’
‘That’s what I told them.’
They sat in silence for a moment, studying the computer screen.
‘Hmm . . .’ Gormley was troubled.
‘What?’
‘Leaving aside those who have died of natural causes, there’s a pattern here. He’s killing them in order: Alan Stephens, Jenny Tait, Jamil Malik . . . and now Dorothy Smith is missing.’
‘You’re forgetting Seamus Dowd.’
Gormley looked up at Dowd’s name. ‘Maybe he’s dead but we just haven’t found his body yet. Or Forster hasn’t traced him yet – which wouldn’t surprise me, given that we can’t.’
Daniels looked down at the list again. ‘If you’re right, then Frances Cook is next.’
Forster smiled to himself as his fingers flew over the keys, typing a message next to her name on the School Reunion website.
Hi Frankie!
Can’t believe we lost touch after leaving school. It’d be great to see you again. I’m in Berwick at the weekend, if you fancy meeting up. You probably don’t even remember me. I remember you though!
Virtual hugs . . .
JJ xx