It was not yet 8 a.m. but the incident room was a hive of activity. Laura and Anik had taken over the boardroom to empty the large plastic container full of Rodney Middleton’s effects. When Jack joined them, the tables were lined with neat rows of receipts, outstanding bills, documents relating to benefits, and medical data. There was a stack of personal letters to him from his aunt and his father, as well as some worn letters from his biological mother, posted from Ghana.
There was also a photo album containing pictures of Rodney as a child and as a teenager, with numerous photographs of the two little girls who had died in the fire. Some loose photographs had also been piled up beside the plastic-covered photo album, including several of his stepmother, Karen, their wedding and a few of Rodney and his father fishing and roller skating.
‘You’ve been busy,’ Jack said, taking off his coat. Laura turned to him and smiled. She was wearing latex gloves and pointed to a box for him to put on a pair.
‘Yeah, we both came in at six to get cracking, but we’re still just sorting everything out to get it into some kind of order. The reports from Middleton’s probation officers and the various psychiatrists are in one pile, though I’m not sure how he came to be in possession of them as they were all internal reports. It might be due to him or his lawyers being given access to them the last time he went on trial, and there’s a couple of letters from the legal firm that represented him.’
Anik was emptying the last of the contents, including a few small, dirty boxes that contained bits of jewellery. He placed them in a row and then picked up a clipboard.
‘Right, I’ll have a look through these and take photographs, then they can be sent to the lab for DNA testing. I’ve made a list of everything as, you never know, they could be sick tokens that he’s kept from his victims. That’s often what happens, isn’t it?’
‘You talking about serial killers?’ Laura asked, reading the back of a photograph.
‘Yeah, that’s the thought process, isn’t it? I mean, we’re looking at the possibility of three missing girls, but there could be more.’
Jack made no comment and pulled up a hard-backed chair to begin sifting through the stack of letters.
‘Take a look at this, Jack; I think it’s a photograph of his mother, but read what’s written on the back of it,’ Laura said.
She passed him the black and white photograph. It showed a very young Ghanaian girl wearing a school uniform, dated 1981. Written on the back in a childish print were the words, Mama, I miss you. You should have taken me with you.
Jack turned it over in his mind, trying to think if she could have given birth to Rodney. He knew that Middleton was seventeen when the fire happened. He estimated from the photograph that the girl looked no more than about ten or eleven years old. He took out his notebook to remind him to check the dates, recalling that Joyce Miller had remarked that his mother had been very young.
The three of them worked together, tracing the large number of benefits paid to Rodney over the years. It appeared that he handled his own admin very efficiently, copying forms and applications, submitting doctors’ letters and psychiatric reports, and managing a Post Office savings account. They found warranties for the TV and stereo equipment, as well as an estimate for a new shower and a receipt for a power-jet cleaner. Jack read the various personal letters, some sent to Rodney when he was detained in the young offender institute. The correspondence was mostly from his aunt, but there were a couple from his father, one saying he was enclosing five pounds. Jack suddenly sat bolt upright.
‘Hey, listen to this. Written from Wandsworth prison: “Rodney, I have tried my very best for you under difficult circumstances, but this is the last time I am writing to you. I blame you for my beautiful girls’ deaths. Now Karen’s gone, so I went off the rails and I got into trouble. I can’t blame you for what I done, I was stupid and needed some ready cash for your aunt; she’s in a bad way and I am still paying Harold to look after her. They don’t want to see you, same as me. I hope you rot in hell for what you done.”’
‘You interviewed him, didn’t you?’ Anik said.
‘Yes, he was even hoping Rodney would be sent to the same prison as him so Anthony could beat the shit out of him.’
‘And you interviewed the firefighter who attended the scene of the fire, so do his accusations have any credence?’ Laura asked.
‘They investigated the possibility of arson, but no accelerants were found,’ Jack told her. ‘The fire started in the kids’ bedroom, from a duvet that was left hanging over one of the gas heaters.’
Laura reached across the table to a folder that was full of newspaper cuttings. She cleared a space in front of her and took out the cuttings, all neatly held together with a paper clip.
There was a loud rapping on the boardroom door. All three of them stopped what they were doing as Sara opened the door and stepped in.
‘The guv wants you to get over to the basement flat, sarge. The forensic team have called in to say they’re ready to do the luminol testing. He’s outside waiting in a squad car.’
Jack sprang to his feet, as Sara asked if she could stay with Anik and Laura to help them out.
‘I think I’d like to accompany Jack,’ Laura said sharply.
‘DCI Clarke stipulated that only Jack should accompany him and the fewer people there, the better. He’s waiting for results to come in from the lab and . . .’
Laura waved her hand to show she’d heard enough and sat back down, then held the latex glove box out towards Sara.
‘Put a pair of these on. We need to itemise everything on the table. Anik, have you sorted out what’s in all the small boxes yet?’
‘Sorry, no, I got side-tracked by the letters. You can do that, Sara.’
Jack left quickly, finding their competitiveness irritating. Nevertheless, he was pleased that Clarke had requested his presence and he was keen to get to the flat. He ran out to the squad car, which was waiting with the engine running.
Clarke was sitting in the front. ‘Let’s hope we get a result, Jack. There’s nothing confirmed from the tests on the tools that were taken, and the lab is now checking out the contents of the two drums they removed. There’s oil in one and it appears the entire house had an oil central heating system which was changed seven years ago, but there was a waste section containing the stuff used in fertilisers. Superphosphate of lime is non-flammable but phosphorous sulphur when heated can produce toxic gases.’
Jack nodded. ‘We’ve found a lot of interesting material amongst Middleton’s personal belongings, including photographs and letters.’ Jack was about to continue when the DCI’s phone rang. He listened to the caller before checking his watch to say they would be there in fifteen minutes, and then said that he had it with him so was ready for any eventuality. Clarke ended the call and turned to Jack.
‘I’ve decided to arrest Middleton on suspicion of murder and abduction, but we need to be prepared for that bloody woman Georgina Bamford to stick her oar in. The surveillance team are still on standby, but as yet Middleton has made no move to leave the property. He had a delivery of hamburgers and chips last night.’
Jack said nothing but his heartbeat quickened as they approached the turning leading to the flat. They got out of the squad car and crossed over to the large van parked outside, to put on protective suits and shoe covers.
Uniformed officers had cordoned off the street and were standing by to direct traffic towards a diversion, due to the discovery of possible toxic fumes. Clarke and Jack moved down the basement steps as two suited forensic officers were removing their lamps from the coal hole and placing them in the courtyard area outside the basement flat’s front door.
Jack and DCI Clarke stood to one side as the large luminol pump was prepared to spray the now empty interior of the coal hole. Jack had never seen anything like it, as usually they just used a small handheld spray. There was a faint hissing sound as the forensic scientist moved around the dank coal hole and then began to slowly back out to join them. He had sprayed all the walls, the ceiling and the concrete floor and now handed the pump back to his assistant. He then picked up a high- powered torch and went back in, followed by Jack and DCI Clarke. The luminol would take a few minutes to take effect, so they got everything ready to photograph the glow when it appeared.
‘Oh my God,’ Clarke exclaimed in a shocked voice.
Florescent green marks covered the walls, ceiling and floor. There were splatters, drag marks and handprints, as well as dense pools over the concrete floor. No explanation was needed: the horror of what must have occurred there was obvious.
They were all so focused on the scene that surrounded them that the sudden sound of Beethoven being played at ear-splitting volume was startling. The music stopped as suddenly as it had begun as the basement door opened. Rodney Middleton stood there smiling. A uniformed officer had been positioned at the door and stepped to one side.
‘I suppose you want to arrest me? I’ve been waiting.’ He seemed to be enjoying the moment.
DCI Clarke gestured to the two uniformed officers to come down to the basement courtyard. He cautioned Middleton and explained that he was being arrested on suspicion of murder and abduction. Middleton didn’t seem to be paying much attention. He turned to Jack and calmly said, ‘Can you go in and see Amanda? She’s very upset.’ Clarke nodded to Jack as Middleton was handcuffed and led up the stone steps to the street level.
Jack was badly shaken, and took a breath before going into the flat. He stood in the hallway and he called out for Amanda, but there was no answer and he suddenly felt afraid at what he might find. He called out again, more loudly, then pushed open the main bedroom door. The room was strewn with takeaway cartons, littering the bed and the floor. Most of the containers looked half-eaten and there were also empty bottles of Coke.
Jack hurried down the hallway, pushed open the bathroom door, then opened the door to the back room where he had last seen her. Amanda was sitting propped up on the bed, wearing a set of headphones connected to her phone. He quickly went to her side.
‘Amanda . . .’ He gently removed the headphones, and she instinctively shrank back. He could tell by her eyes that she was high. He pulled the duvet away. She was fully dressed, wearing the same pink bed socks.
Jack called for an ambulance before gently easing Amanda out of bed and walking her to the open front door. He walked her up and down the courtyard, trying to keep her awake and asking her what she had taken. She was completely incoherent and it was a huge relief when the two paramedics arrived to take over.
Jack stayed with Amanda until the ambulance left to take her to the nearest hospital. A young female officer accompanied her, and Jack called the station to ask Sara to meet them at the hospital and to keep him updated about Amanda’s condition. She was a key witness, and they would need to take further statements from her at some point.
Rodney Middleton was placed in one of the station’s cells. As DCI Clarke had anticipated, he soon received a belligerent call from Georgina Bamford declaring that her client was being harassed and demanding to see him, though she instantly calmed down when it was explained that her client was being questioned about at least three murders and that she would be allowed to speak to him at the appropriate time.
‘You know perfectly well, DCI Clarke, that I have every right to talk to my client before you interview him,’ she said, regaining some of her poise.
‘Obviously and, as I said, that will be permitted, but not at the present time,’ Clarke insisted firmly.
Jack was relieved that Middleton was finally in a police cell. He also knew that the hard work of building the evidence against Middleton to convict him was only just beginning. The most urgent task was to identify the victims they believed had been murdered in the coal hole. It would be a marathon task, but the forensic team were busy collecting blood samples to be tested for DNA. Tests on a wire brush, a saw and the contents of the rubbish bins also came up positive for blood stains. The subsequent search of the basement flat after Rodney’s arrest had also revealed matted human hair in the drains, from the plugs in the bathroom sink and shower, and the missing girls’ families had been contacted, asking for any personal items that might contain DNA for matching.
In all there were now fifteen officers who would be working 24/7, all assigned to different groups by DCI Clarke. Rodney Middleton had lived in the basement flat for five years, so efforts were being concentrated on the missing girls who were known to have been staying with him during that time, but Jack couldn’t help wondering how many more victims there could be.
Jack eventually returned home after 10 p.m., having called Penny earlier to let her know that he would be late and would have dinner at the station. DCI Clarke’s schedule had been divided up and Jack had agreed to take his fair share of day and night duties. There were officers who would be travelling to the homes of the missing girls in order to obtain as much information and evidence as possible to enable identification. Family liaison officers had to approach the families ahead of the officers’ arrival, and the detailed co-ordination of all this was very time-consuming.
The forensic teams were working round the clock to process the vast number of items that had been brought in for testing, while another team were still at the basement flat, taking up floorboards and carpets and removing the entire shower unit and bath pipes in order to look for further evidence.
Jack made himself a cup of coffee and laced it with brandy. He expected to find Maggie asleep, but she was sitting up in bed waiting for him. She knew just by looking at him that he was exhausted. He had a shower and scrubbed his body. He switched off the bathroom light and climbed into bed beside her.
‘Do you want to talk, or just crash out?’ she asked softly.
‘Dear God, Maggie . . . my brain feels as though I have a tight steel ring wrapped around it . . . I don’t honestly know where to begin. It was hell today.’
Maggie said nothing and didn’t complain that his hair was soaking wet as his head flopped back onto the pillow. Instead, she turned towards him and gently stroked his shoulder as he began to recount his day to her. He spoke quietly and unemotionally. Maggie just listened without interruption, sensing him gradually starting to relax.
‘Then he was just standing there, Mags, waiting at the front door. He was obviously expecting to be arrested, smiling and calmly asking me to check on his girlfriend. Amanda was out of it; I don’t know what she had taken, or maybe he had given her something in the hope of killing her. She’s going to be a vital witness. They pumped her stomach and she’s been sedated. There’s an officer protecting her, but we’ll need to find a safe place for her to go, if she isn’t arrested and charged as an accomplice. My gut tells me she’s a liar and a devious little bitch.’
Jack sighed deeply, then turned to face her.
‘I’m not sure if I can keep going, Mags. I feel completely worn out. I don’t know if I’m right for this job anymore. Sometimes I wish I could just keep toeing the line and not get so involved in cases. I feel as though I’ve lost my way. I still haven’t told you about what Ridley has got me into, because I could get right in the shit if it ever came out that I was digging into his case. As it is, I stupidly used one of the probationers to try and track down Sandra Raynor, the woman found murdered in the boot of his car; it was dumb, and he got no result, but it could come back and bite me on the arse.’ Maggie could feel him getting tense again.
‘So what did Ridley want you to do?’
‘I had to meet the contact he said would help me, because I’m stuck, Mags, and I can’t use the station’s computers.’
‘Yes, yes, you said that before.’
‘So I get there, a flat over in Fulham, and his contact turns out to be this drag queen, in full slap with a wig, false eyelashes and a velvet dressing gown, I mean, I dunno if it’s a he or she, or what the fuck I am doing there.’
‘Oh, come on, Jack, trans issues aren’t that complicated. Basically, we should all have one simple rule. If you were born male and want to live as a woman, go for it; same applies if you are woman and want to live as a man. But this person doesn’t actually sound like a trans woman; more like a male transvestite.’
Jack propped himself up on his elbow.
‘Jesus Christ, Maggie, what the hell are you talking about?’
‘It sounded as if you were being derogatory about this person just because of their lifestyle.’
He lay back closing his eyes.
‘Right, just forget it. I’m sorry I even brought it up. Now I feel even worse about what I’m getting into.’
It was Maggie’s turn to prop herself up on her elbow so she could look down at him.
‘You might feel that way tonight, Jack, but once you’ve had a good night’s sleep things will seem better. Just remember that if it wasn’t for you, they would never have uncovered these poor innocent girls’ monstrous murders.’
She looked at him and cupped his face in her hands. ‘Would you like me to give you something to help you sleep?’
‘Yeah, that would be good. I’m not due at the station until late tomorrow afternoon.’
Maggie got out of bed and went into the bathroom. She took out a packet of sleeping tablets from the cabinet and tipped two out into her hand. She then emptied the toothbrush mug and filled it with water, carrying it back into the bedroom. Jack was fast asleep, so she swallowed the two tablets herself and set the alarm for 6 a.m. as she was on duty the next morning.
She lay beside Jack, knowing how awful it must have been to see what he had seen today. But she also couldn’t help resenting his complete obliviousness to the horrors she had been dealing with on a daily basis. She had become reliant on sleeping tablets to knock herself out in order to be able to get up and face yet another horrific day. She also needed to discuss her concerns about Penny with him. Twice she had found the kettle boiling dry as well as the iron left on. Penny had also heated up some ready meals that were long past their use-by dates. Maggie was worried about Penny not checking that the freezer door was closed properly and concerned about how fresh the food was that she was giving Hannah.
Maggie sighed, turning on her side and tucking her shoulder under her pillow. She felt like having a good cry. She was carrying so much responsibility and Jack seemed to be losing his confidence just at the moment she needed him to be strong for her and their daughter. She decided that tomorrow she would have a long talk with him; if he felt as if it was all too much, he should try stepping into her shoes for a while.