For the next few days the incident room once again took on an atmosphere of frenzied activity. I could hardly get a word out of Peter Corkhill – I just hoped he wasn’t sulking after my rejection. All available computer databases were combed for information on children who had gone missing, without trace, during the period in question, but the problem here was that – unless a crime had taken place – the names were unlikely to have gone onto the National Register. In turn, that meant contacting the various county police headquarters for the information; it was readily available, but retrieving it also took up an enormous amount of time.
We were still working on the problem when Paul returned a few days later for a conference. In attendance, apart from myself, was the superintendent, the now confirmed detective chief inspector, Jim Robbins, Frank Kewell (recently promoted to the rank of inspector, and now my immediate boss), Peter Corkhill, Emma, from forensics, and – of course – Paul.
The session began by the superintendent asking Emma to update us on the results of the evidence found in and around the field.
“Well, sir,” she began, reading from her notes. “There isn’t a great deal we can tell you about the partial footprint. But it has provided us with some information that may be helpful. We’ve managed to ascertain that it belongs to a man’s right foot; his approximate height is five feet ten inches; we estimate his weight, within two or three pounds, at 12 stone; from the partial pattern on the sole of the shoe we were able to establish it was a Church’s make, size eight and a half, obviously expensive; and, from the slight indentation on one side of the sole, we believe at some time this man has had surgery on his right knee.”
“Christ!” Paul commented. “All of that from an indent in cow shit!”
This seemed to break the sombre atmosphere, and we broke out laughing. Even our humourless superintendent had a smile on his face.
“Good work, Emma. What about the fibre? What does that tell us about him?”
“What it tells us for certain, sir, is that this man is a snazzy dresser. The fibre’s a mixture of cashmere and silk, and it came from an Armani suit. There may be an outside chance of tracing the garment, because it’s a very exclusive product – you don’t get these down the high street. And the suit was bought quite recently; this type of cloth only came on the market in the last three months – and only the really posh shops in the upmarket areas of the major cities. I’ll leave it to your officers to work out how many shops and stores that would involve; but you’ll have to bear in mind that Armani’s well represented throughout Europe. He could have bought it in any European city. Also, if we add the information about the fibre to what we got from the shoe print, we can assume that he’s not exactly skint: either he’s someone of independent means, or a businessman with his own set-up. But, he’s also squeamish – I know that’s weird...”
“How d’you mean, Emma?” Jim asked.
“Well, he must’ve realised he’d left that footprint in the cow dung; he’s far too meticulous not to have. But he made no attempt to remove it; nor did he even try to erase it; he would have had to use his foot, or perhaps a stick, had there been one available, and there was no way he was prepared to do that.”
“Interesting,” the superintendent commented. “Paul, how d’you think he’ll react when he discovers his jacket is torn?”
“I don’t think he will. Oh, he’ll worry about it momentarily, but then he’ll rationalise it by convincing himself that the police are unlikely to find it. And, even if we did (and, remember, he’s made that more likely by leaving the footprint), he’ll reason that it’s virtually untraceable, so there’s no real damage done.”
“Hmm. Not very helpful, is it?”
“No. I’m afraid not.”
“What about the profile? Any progress with that?”
Paul shuffled his papers on the desk, giving the impression he wasn’t sure where to begin. No one spoke; we just sat there in expectation. I wondered if perhaps we weren’t waiting for a miracle of some kind.
“I’d like to remind you all what I said about profiling,” Paul began. “It’s not a panacea for all your problems; at best, it’s another tool to help you catch particular types of offenders – mainly sexual deviants.”
“Paul,” the superintendent interrupted, irritation clearly in his voice, “you really don’t have to be defensive. No one’s going to judge you; all we ask is you do your best.”
“Sorry, Phil. Yes, of course. The question is where to begin. We already have a photofit of the suspect, so that’s a good start. Before I go on, I’m aware you’ve already made the picture available to the press, but may I suggest that you distribute it on as wide a basis as you can? If necessary, place the picture in a prominent position – outside schools, in playgrounds, anywhere children gather and might be vulnerable, warning them not to let this man near them. Circulate it to the media – I mean national papers and TV, not just simply the local press. At the same time, don’t hesitate to warn the general public that we’re looking for a mass murderer.”
“Won’t that just panic people?” Jim asked.
“It may frighten them,” Paul said. “And that has to be for the good. It’ll make them more vigilant, more protective towards their children. And, until this man’s caught, our safeguard. As I’ve said already, I really don’t think this man’s suspended his indulgences for the past four years. I’m convinced you’re going to find more victims. And he’ll go on killing until he’s caught. He’s extremely dangerous, so we have little choice but to alert the public.”
“I agree,” said the superintendent. “We’ll get on to it right away. Please – carry on, Paul. What sort of man are we looking for?”
“Well, when you eventually meet him, as you will, he’ll appear on the surface to be the last type you’d suspect. Superficially, he’ll seem gentle, charming even. He’ll be sophisticated, well spoken; you’d do well to bear in mind that the voice he uses on the phone may not be his natural accent. He’ll be educated, extremely well dressed – in fact, meticulously so; he’ll be wealthy, certainly of independent means, possibly because he owns his own business or has inherited wealth. If I were asked what type of car he drives I’d go for one of the prestige marques: a BMW, or a Mercedes – possibly a Jaguar. It’s unlikely it will turn out to be a Ford as one potential witness thought. That’d be demeaning for this chap. Having said that, it’s possible he’ll have a 4-wheel drive car too – remember, he has to access his burial site, and he’s hardly likely to use his pride and joy for that.
“Now,” he went on, “ as for where he might live – well, I’m sorry say it could almost be anywhere. He’s obviously geographically mobile; so, he either doesn’t mind how far he travels in search of victims, and he can afford to do it, or his business activities require him to travel, thus widening his net for potential prey.
“What makes this man unique is that he has no previous history with the police. You see, invariably this kind of offender develops his sexual compulsions in a fairly well-set pattern over an extended period of time. During that evolutionary phase it’s almost inevitable they’ll make some mistake or other, commit a relatively minor misdemeanour, and come to the attention of the police. That doesn’t seem to have happened in this case – unless he was apprehended as a minor – otherwise, as a known sexual offender, you’d have his DNA on file. He knows that, so you can assume he also has some knowledge of police procedures, even if it’s only basic stuff.
But it’s worth considering that he might have a record of mental disturbance, and consequential treatment, if only on an outpatient basis. It’s also likely that he’s married – or was once. And an apparently respected member of his community, possibly even a regular churchgoer...
“To sum up this aspect of his sociopathology: outwardly, in almost every way, he’s a perfectly normal citizen. But that’s just a veneer. The real person, the one the world never sees, is a sadistic, merciless killer. He’s depraved in the very worst sense of the word; he inflicts the most horrifying atrocities on helpless children, then murders them without any compunction.”
Paul shook his head in sorrow at the thought. No one spoke for a little while; I think we were all shocked at the clinical description of this psychopathic monster. Finally, the superintendent said, “Have you finished, Paul?”
“No. There are other characteristics you should know about that could be helpful. Generally speaking, this category of paedophile has an aggressive personality; he may be able to hide or disguise this for long periods, but it’s bound to have displayed itself at some point. And I relate this to his social life rather than his paedophilia, where his anger finds – by his standards, at least – a natural theatre. Also, he’ll always abduct the children he molests; I mean they’ll always be strangers - unlike the other three main categories of paedophile, where the child’s usually either be a relative or is at least be known to the offender; and, more often than not, coercion takes place.
“Finally, because of his careful planning, coupled with his innate cunning, he’s not likely to be caught early on. Sadly, there’ll be quite a number of victims before that; hence my suggestion you comb the records over the last four years for missing children – little girls, I’m talking about. This character won’t have the slightest interest in young boys.”
He held out a hand to stop Jim from interrupting him. “Please; bear with me for a few minutes more. As I said earlier, I also want to say is we need to formulate a response to these games he’s playing. I’m still working on that, but I am not unhopeful. In the meantime, one of the common traits of this type is the use of internet bulletin boards, where information on potential victims is freely exchanged anonymously and confidentially. I believe this could, potentially be a way of entrapping him, but – again – I’d ask you to leave it with me for a little while.”
He paused, as if to clear his mind, then said, “So there you have it: the profile of the archetypal sadistic paedophile: the mysoped. Some of the information you are familiar with; some of it will be new to you. It remains only for me to say, however superfluously, that this man must be caught, regardless of the cost. As I have repeatedly said, he’ll continue killing girls until you do. I can only hope this will help you catch him.”
“Fascinating,” the superintendent said. “Thank you, Paul. Tell me,” he said, pointing to the papers in front of the doctor: “do you have all that laid out on paper, or is it something you prefer we do ourselves?”
Paul handed across the papers to the superintendent. “It’s more or less in the format I presented to you. You’re welcome to a copy of it, but I need the original; I haven’t finished with this character yet.”
“Okay, everyone. We’ve got something to work on. Frank – follow up on the missing children enquiries, will you? And Angie – why don’t you work with Paul here? See if there’s some way he can help us look into the mental health history of this guy. I know it’s a long shot, but all we’ve got now are long shots, so we have to follow them up. Jim – can I leave you to widen the circulation of the photofit pictures? ...And talk to the media? When news that we’re pursuing the same monster from four years ago gets out, we can expect a full frontal assault from the press and television boys. And be under no illusions; word will get out. We all know what happened last time.”
He stood, leant across the table and shook Paul’s hand. “Paul, we’re all very grateful to you. Jim and Angie will go on liaising with you, and we’ll let you know when we have more information on those soil samples.
“That’s all for now, people, but I suggest we get together again in 48 hours - or sooner if anything breaks.”