Broken Dolls (A Jefferson Winter Thriller) (16 page)

The waitress hustled back to the counter and got busy.

‘Wedding rings, Winter.’

Templeton gave me a look that left me in no doubt that the gloves were about to come off and things were going to get unpleasant.

‘Okay, wedding rings,’ I said. ‘There are four distinct phases with these sorts of crimes. Stalking, acquisition, enactment, and disposal. Acquisition is the riskiest phase. Why?’

‘Because with the other three it’s easier to control the situation, the environment and the variables.’

‘Exactly. That’s why so many serial criminals target low-risk victims. Prostitutes, drug addicts, homeless people. These targets have lifestyles that make it easy to isolate them, which reduces the risk of being caught. A prostitute will get into a car with a stranger. She might think twice about doing it, but she’s going to do it anyway because if she doesn’t then her pimp’s going to beat her up. A well-educated businesswoman won’t get into a car with a stranger. Fact. So what does that tell you?’

‘That our victims know Cutting Jack.’

‘But the victims have never met the unsub,’ I said. ‘So how do they recognise him?’

‘I know what you’re getting at, Winter. We’ve already looked at the internet angle and come up empty-handed.’

‘Look harder. You also need to check to see if the victims have any secret cellphone accounts their husbands don’t know about. This unsub builds up a relationship with his victims and this is done over time. We’re talking months rather than days. By the time he’s ready to reel them in, they’re prepared to lie to their husbands and friends. They’re prepared to take off their wedding rings and hide them in their purses. And they’re prepared to get into a car with someone they’ve only just met.’

‘Why bother taking off their rings? Surely Cutting Jack already knows they’re married.’

‘They do it partly to make the unsub feel better, and partly to ease their own guilt. They don’t want the unsub to think of them as married. They don’t want to think of
themselves
as being married. They want the unsub to see them as young, free and single. Ironically, that’s what they want to believe, too, since it makes the guilt easier to handle. Did you notice Sarah Flight wasn’t wearing a wedding ring?’

Templeton shook her head.

‘At the time I wondered who’d taken it off. I wasn’t sure if it was her mother or someone who worked at Dunscombe House. It wasn’t either. Sarah Flight took it off and hid it in her purse or her bag or wherever. The unsub found it when he went through her stuff and kept it as a trophy.’

The waitress came over with my coffee. She handed a business card to Templeton. It was decorated with the Mulberry’s logo and had the manager’s cellphone number scribbled on the back.

‘Okay, what now?’ Templeton asked.

‘Are you into role-playing?’

The look she gave me was priceless.

30

I stopped in front of Springers’ tall glass windows and took a good look all around, getting a feel for the environment. Left, right. North, south, east, west. The unsub had been sitting across the road in Mulberry’s last night. What had he seen? What had he heard? What had he done? Lazy trails of smoke wound upwards from my cigarette, twisting through the light that spilled from the bar. The throwaway cup was hot in my hand despite the cardboard collar. My breathing and heart rate increased as I slipped into the zone. Smells, sights and sounds were suddenly sharper.

‘Okay, you’re Rachel Morris,’ I said to Templeton. ‘You’ve been stood up and you’re feeling angry. The weather’s lousy. It’s cold and it’s snowing. You come out of the bar. What’s the first thing you do?’

‘I head for home. I’ve had a crap evening and I just want to be tucked up in bed.’

I shook my head. ‘You’re jumping the gun. Yes, you want to get home as quick as you can, but, despite the cold, you’re still going to stand in that doorway and check the street one last time to see if your date’s going to turn up. And the reason you’re going to do that is because you feel foolish for getting yourself in this situation in the first place, and if your date does make a miracle appearance then you won’t feel so foolish. It’s basic human nature. Psychology 101.’

Templeton moved into the doorway and made a big show of checking the street. ‘Looking left, looking right,’ she said. ‘No sign of the bad guy.’

‘That’s because I’m over in Mulberry’s, watching you. Okay, you came here on the Underground. The CCTV footage from the station showed that. Odds on you’re going to go back the same way. Except you didn’t. The CCTV footage showed that, too.’

‘Maybe I spoiled myself and got a cab.’

I shook my head. ‘That doesn’t work. You’re a commuter. You use the Underground every day. It’s what you’re familiar with, and familiarity is what we use to give the illusion of safety. Also, a cab would be expensive and you’re already bummed at wasting your money on an evening out that never happened. Then you’ve got the hassle of flagging a cab down. There’s no way you’re taking a cab.’

We turned right and started walking towards the Underground station. It wasn’t far, about eight hundred yards. I could see the sign up ahead.

‘Now that you’re headed home, you want to get there as quickly as possible, so you’re walking fast, covering the ground. Meanwhile, I’ve now left Mulberry’s and crossed the road to your side. You haven’t seen me yet because you’ve got your head down and all you can think about is getting home. I call out to get your attention. You stop and turn around.’

Templeton stopped and turned to look behind her.

‘What do you see?’ I asked.

‘I see you walking towards me.’

‘It’s dark and you’ve never seen me before, but you’re not spooked. Why?’

‘Because I recognise you. Either you’ve sent me a photograph or you’ve sent me a description.’

I shook my head. ‘Not a photograph. Way too risky. If the police got hold of a photograph then that would be my fun and games finished when I’ve just got warmed up. A written description is more likely because it can be specific and ambiguous all at the same time. If I tell you what I’m wearing and the colour of my hair and my age, then you’ll recognise me, but I’m really not giving anything away. I still want to see that description, though, so get your computer people to keep digging.’

‘They didn’t find anything.’

‘They haven’t found anything
yet
.’ I took a drag on my cigarette and drank my coffee and let the mix of nicotine and caffeine do its thing. ‘So what happens next?’

‘You walk up to me. Your body language is relaxed. You’re not a threat.’

‘And what’s the first thing I say to you?’

‘Sorry.’

I smiled at that and Templeton smiled back, smug
na-na-na-na-na
smiles from both of us.

‘Which makes me appear even less threatening,’ I said. ‘So I tell you I’m sorry, give you some story about why I’m late, tell you I’m sorry again, and by the time I’ve finished you’re going to think I’m as dangerous as Mother Teresa.’

‘And those couple of glasses of wine will be making me feel all warm and fuzzy, so I’m happy to get sucked into the fantasy,’ said Templeton.

‘This is your chance to salvage something from the evening, so when I suggest we go grab a drink or a meal, you jump at the offer. I tell you I’m parked close by, let’s go.’

‘So where are you parked?’

‘Good question.’

I stood for a second and smoked my cigarette and looked up and down the street. There was a right turn a hundred yards further along and we headed towards it. The street was narrow, with double yellow lines along both sides.

‘This is where he parked,’ I said.

‘I’ll get someone to check if any parking tickets were issued last night. This part of Kensington, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t get a ticket.’

‘Good idea.’

Templeton narrowed her blue eyes. She was almost squinting, but still managed to look sexy. It was a neat trick.

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ she said.

‘It means it’s a good idea.’

‘Yeah, that’s what you said. But the way you said it makes it sound like it’s a stupid idea.’

‘Get someone to check it out,’ I said. ‘So, Rachel Morris climbs into the car and they drive off into the night. What’s wrong with this scenario?’

‘Two things. Firstly, the place where Cutting Jack makes contact with Rachel is all wrong. If he was late and parked here, why would he be coming up on Rachel from behind? He should be coming from the front. I know she’s had a couple of drinks but I think she’d notice that one.’

‘That’s easy. He waits until she’s gone past this street and then he approaches her. That way they can turn around and head back to the car without Rachel getting spooked. What’s the second thing?’

‘He needs to incapacitate Rachel as soon as she gets into the car,’ said Templeton. ‘At some point she’s going to realise something’s wrong, and if he’s driving when that happens that puts him in a vulnerable position. He can’t tie her up and gag her and dump her in the boot because someone would see him. So he drugs her and straps her into the passenger seat. Even if he’s stopped by the police he could claim she was sleeping, or she’d had a few too many drinks, and that would be plausible.’

‘That’s pretty much how I see it. So, we’ve got an MO for how he abducts his victims. The next question is how does he stalk them?’

Templeton sighed. ‘On the internet.’

‘It’s the only explanation. Okay, next stop Geek Central. I want to chat with the best computer wizard you’ve got.’

31

‘What did you say?’

Rachel wanted to hear that voice again because she needed to convince herself the woman on the other side of the locked door wasn’t a figment of her imagination, that she hadn’t dreamt up an imaginary friend to keep her company as she slid into madness. The silence lasted long enough for Rachel to convince herself her imagination was playing tricks, then the woman spoke again.

‘I asked if you enjoyed your dinner. I made it myself. It’s my favourite.’

The woman was talking quietly, almost whispering, and Rachel had to strain to hear. But that didn’t matter because she was real. Rachel suddenly realised something. Whoever this woman was, she wanted to please her. She didn’t just want to know if Rachel liked the food, she
wanted
her to like it. This wasn’t just any old meal, this was her favourite. The food was average at best, there was only so much you could do with a tin of ravioli, but Rachel wasn’t about to tell her that. If this woman wanted to hear this was the best meal she’d ever eaten, then that’s what she was going to hear.

‘It was very nice,’ said Rachel.

‘Thank you.’

Rachel heard the brightness in the woman’s voice and knew she’d got that one right. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked, and immediately wished she hadn’t. The silence that followed this question went on much longer, long enough for Rachel to start beating herself up for pushing too hard, too soon. She strained to hear what was happening on the other side of the heavy door, imagining that if she listened hard enough she would hear the woman breathing, hear the beat of her heart. All she heard was the dull, distant rumble of the heating system.

‘Eve,’ the woman said eventually.

Rachel smiled. Eve. She would use it wherever she could, anything to build the trust between them. That’s what had happened in every hostage movie she’d ever seen. The negotiator would use the bad guy’s name wherever possible. He’d talk calmly and do his best to keep things relaxed and use that name like they were best friends sharing a couple of drinks.

‘Hi Eve. My name’s Rachel.’

‘I know.’

Rachel didn’t say anything for a moment. She sensed there was an opportunity here, but wasn’t sure of the best way to play it. The answer came to her in two sudden flashes of insight that hit one after the other.

‘Is Adam your brother, Eve?’

There was another of those long silences. Rachel figured that Eve had learned to be careful what she said around Adam.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Adam’s my brother.’

Of course he was. Adam and Eve. It was so obvious when she thought about it. Rachel’s first insight had been correct. She hoped her second one was, too.

‘He hurt me,’ Rachel said.

‘I’m sorry. I’ve asked him not to hurt the girls, but he doesn’t listen. He gets angry.’

‘And when he gets angry, he hits you, doesn’t he, Eve?’

This pause was followed by a rush of words, short staccato sentences filled with misplaced justifications. ‘Sometimes. But he doesn’t mean to. And he only does it because I make him angry. And he’s always sorry afterwards.’

Rachel smiled. Two for two. She’d been right to play the empathy card. For the first time since she got here she could see a glimmer of hope. It was only the tiniest glimpse but right now she would take whatever she could get.

‘I really should go. I shouldn’t be here. Adam would be angry if he knew I was talking to you.’

Rachel heard a shuffling on the other side of the door and panicked. Eve was getting up, and then she was going to leave, and if Eve left, she would be on her own again. Alone in the dark. Rachel wanted her to stay. She
needed
her to stay. The loneliness of the situation suddenly hit her and she bit back the tears. She didn’t know anything about Eve, didn’t know how she fitted into this madhouse, but what she did know was that she wasn’t Adam. Adam had shaved her head and reduced her to a number. Talking to Eve reminded her she was still a person, that she was more than a number.

‘Please don’t go, Eve.’ Rachel heard the desperation in her voice, but didn’t care.

‘I guess I can stay for a little while. Adam’s not due back yet.’

‘Thank you, Eve.’

Rachel stared across at the dentist’s chair and lapsed into silence. Bright light reflected off the steel and porcelain. The tiles were hard and cold beneath her, numbing her muscles. How the hell had she ended up here? It wasn’t fair. She wasn’t a bad person. Her thoughts caught up with her, and when she realised how naive they were she almost laughed out loud. Life wasn’t fair, and bad things happened to good people all the time. Karma was bullshit.