The Visitor (#3 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) (36 page)

“OK. If this is the primary scene and it holds a special significance for the killer, it makes sense that we’re looking for someone whose female relative suffered in the M.P.E. At Murdock’s hands. Probably Melissa Pullman. It also makes it likely the killer has been working here and knew that it would be closed. That backs up everything we know. Liam, get a rush on those D.N.A.s please and Davy’s deep backgrounds. Joe, get your guys up to those rooms. I want to know who uses them and if they saw anything between Sunday night and today.”

“Randle and McAllister insisted on D.N.A. warrants boss. Lewes didn’t. We just got them an hour ago.” Craig raised his eyes in exasperation, with the legal system, not his team.

“We’ve got Randle’s and Lewes’ blood now, but not Greenwood’s or McAllister’s yet - he was in the meeting all afternoon. Greenwood’s still at his conference. Lewes’ alibi is fine but McAllister’s using the wife again, you’d think he’d have learned by now. Still, I suppose it might actually be true this time.”

“I want to interview McAllister and Greenwood myself, Liam. Get them both into High Street for interview ASAP. If Greenwood’s not back from Dublin, I want him back. Ask the Irish Police to find him.”

“Will do.”

Just at that moment Annette appeared with Martin trailing after her. She waved at them urgently and rushed across the gravel, hindered by her heels.

“Sir, we may have something interesting. It’s taken me a while to get the details– the Trust was playing hard to get. But Melissa Pullman’s death was the subject of a major investigation against the Trust and Mr Murdock. The medico-legal people and G.M.C. were both involved, and Murdock was close to losing his job and paying huge damages. The reason it didn’t flag-up before, was because the action was thrown out at inquest. The Trust was in financial straits at the time, and they were applying for major funding. You need your image and books squeaky clean to get that, so the case could have totally wrecked their application.”

She took a deep breath and Craig smiled at her. She was going to ace her Inspector exams in June, no question. She hurried on while Martin excitedly echoed each word she said.

“Anyway, the old Chief Exec Robert Moore, Dr Davis and Sister Johns all testified for Murdock
against
Melissa Pullman’s family. So the case was thrown out, without the family getting a penny’s compensation. Ms Pullman’s parents are bringing up the baby now - they live over in Jersey.”

“What happened to the baby’s father?”

“I’m afraid we’ve hit a dead end on that one. They weren’t married. His name is Stephen Barron, and all traces of him have disappeared. And there’s something else, sir. It may be nothing, but Melissa Pullman was a pharmacist. She had a small retail place in Bangor, and Barron jointly owned it. It’s been closed-up since she died but we’re chasing to see who’s paying the rates.”

“Excellent work, Annette.” She beamed at Craig and Liam squinted at her competitively.

“Right, I want everyone back in the briefing room in thirty minutes. Sorry, more overtime. John, I’ll give you a call later if that’s OK? Annette, check out that pharmacy - the killer’s getting his drugs from somewhere. The Cocaine was medical quality, and there’s Pethidine, Insulin and Ketamine now, plus the scalpel and needles. They had to be ordered, prescribed or stolen from somewhere. And nothing has flagged up anywhere in Northern Ireland.

Liam, see if you can access anything on Stephen Barron. Description and age, scars, anything we can use. He must have a passport or driving licence.”

John turned to leave. “Marc, I’ll chase everything at our end and summarise it for you. It doesn’t surprise me about Davis testifying for Murdock. He and Moore were part of Murdock’s social circle in Cultra. They went to school together. ‘Jobs for the boys’. That’s our incestuous little province for you.” He smiled wryly at Craig, the irony of their joint schooldays not missing either of them.

Craig’s attention was drawn by something in his peripheral vision, and he walked quickly to the side door of the Portakabin. A small note had been taped to the door - Greenwood would be back tomorrow morning at eight. Too late, they needed to see him tonight. Then something occurred to him. Murdock and Davis were dead, and Laurie Johns, Beth and Katy were protected but...someone was missing.

“Hold on, Liam. I’ll come back with you in the car. I need to speak to Robert Moore. Now.”

***

Laurie Johns had swiped herself into the Maternity Unit at three-fifty and made a coffee. Then she’d wandered in and out of the empty rooms while she waited. It was four-twenty now and they were late. She’d have to tell them off. She was doing them a favour after all.

She wasn’t sure who was coming, but she hoped it would be that handsome Polish builder who did the plasterwork. He was a bit young, but very impressed by her, and she could happily enjoy an hour flirting with
him.
Maybe she could drag it out to a coffee in the canteen. If McAllister didn’t come himself then she’d pop up to see him at Knock later. He’d make the time to see her. After all, she was helping him out.

She gazed around her, smiling. It was very quiet without all those noisy babies. Much nicer. She liked order in her Unit.

The main door opened, and she half-turned, smiling and posing with a back straight. She’d been a girl ballerina and a sense of the dramatic never went amiss.

She’d expected to see a man, but was disappointed instead by the sight of Beth Walker. She looked her up and down disdainfully, taking in her over-sized denim jacket and scruffy leggings. Just what she’d have expected. Johns’ pose dropped immediately - it was totally wasted on a woman
.

“What do you think you’re doing here, Nurse Walker? The Unit is closed, and you’re on investigation leave. How did you get in?”

“Oh...Sister...the door was open. I’m sorry, I just came to collect some notes for my exams. I’m doing my management diploma on Friday and I really need them for studying.”

“I’m certain I closed that door.” Johns eyed her suspiciously then continued. “Well, never mind. Just hurry up and get them. And then leave immediately, before I report you.”

She drew herself up pompously and Beth had a moment’s horrible image of her and Murdock having sex. They’d both have to be on top. She shuddered as the Sister kept talking, self-importantly.

“I’m here for a vital meeting with the project team and
the Chief Executive. They’ll be here any minute.”

“Sorry Sister. I’ll be very quick.”

Beth ran hurriedly into the staff room and opened her locker, gathering armfuls of notes and dropping some papers in her rush. She left the Unit quickly without looking back, passing a tall man approaching by the parallel glass corridor. He didn’t seem to notice her, his face turned away, staring at the ground.

That must be Sister’s meeting, poor bugger. She’ll spend the whole time flirting with him. Beth gave a small shiver at the thought; not her problem. Then she ran quickly down the stairs to meet Janey outside.

***

He had to get there quickly. They would be searching for someone by now. They’d discovered the thing’s body by the river, just as he’d wanted it found. The Visitor smiled to himself, thinking of Nigel Murdock’s last moments. He’d cried and screamed for mercy, like the coward that he’d known him to be. He was skilled at being cruel to women, but he couldn’t take it himself.

Now it was the bitch’s turn. He didn’t like to hurt women, but she wasn’t really a woman, was she? Real women had warmth, compassion and heart. She was cold and unfeeling. He shook his head. This was no woman, this was a thing. Guilty.

***

Laurie Johns greeted him at the Unit door at four-thirty, instantly forgiving his tardiness with a smile. They shared a long coffee in her office, laughing and chatting, before they started walking the floor. He followed her in and out of the rooms, while she talked incessantly and pointed out the best camera sites.

She was very pleased. She really liked men who asked for her advice. And he was handsome and well-mannered, her two absolute musts in a man. Of course, he was a little dreary, and his accent was quite strange, but he really did seem to hang on her every word...

The Visitor watched her preening arrogantly, bile rising in his throat. This thing was even more disgusting than the last, with its pathetic posturing and self-delusion. At least the other one had known it was revolting.

“I think we should have a camera there and there.” She meandered ahead of him, displaying herself to what she thought was her best advantage.

His hand rubbed the blade’s sharp edge, enclosing it completely in his pocket and pushing it down to cut through his skin. His own blood fed his pain and anger, but there was no heat with this one. The revulsion was almost too strong. How could a woman be as callous as she was? So loathing of her own sex, so cruel to other women, to Melissa?

Instead of the heat he’d felt with Murdock, The Visitor’s pulse slowed, and his skin cooled until he shivered. Each movement was broken into a million frames, like time-lapse photography. Watching himself, watching her.

She pointed to the theatre door.

“What about putting a camera there, just above the theatre entrance?”

His free hand found the barrel of the first syringe. One to slow her down, the second to make it all fit perfectly. He flicked the cap off the small green needle, turning it from his own flesh, and reached behind it for the rope.

“Or maybe a camera inside the theatre? No, well, maybe not. Patients are quite litigious enough nowadays without giving them any encouragement. We don’t want to give them ideas for suing people, do we now?” She laughed sarcastically, only amusing herself.

“No, indeed.” His accented voice grew suddenly cold. “But then you could always lie about it. Couldn’t you Sister?”

“I beg your pardon, what do
you mean?”

She railed at the harsh tone of his voice, turning angrily. He grabbed her wrists hard, wrenching them up behind her. Then he tied them expertly with the rope and pushed her to the ground face–first, standing above her gazing down.

She struggled futilely against his strength as he drew the rope down to her ankles and bound them together, linking all four limbs in the midline. She’d been so busy showing off that she hadn’t noticed his hands in his pockets the whole time.

Laurie Johns lay on the ground too shocked to speak. Then she signalled her intention to scream by taking a deep gasping breath. The man clasped a bloodied hand over her throat, obstructing her windpipe, so that no air escaped and none entered. Then he expertly withdrew the first syringe and pushed the needle into her neck, forcing the plunger down and emptying it rapidly. She slumped forward, unsupported, her face cracking hard against the sealed polymer floor.

He turned her over and swiftly injected the second syringe. It all had to fit, it had to be perfect. The kill had to have order to it. He tore open her waistband and stared into her widening eyes, enjoying her fear.
Now
he could feel the heat between his thighs. He wanted to roar as he had done with the other one, but that would bring them running.

He’d seen them downstairs looking for something. If they heard him they would come. And if they came then they would try to save the thing, and the work would be incomplete. That could never be allowed.

He’d always known this one must be silent, more secret to him. It saddened him a little, as if it robbed him of some joy. But he would roar next time. Next time he would rent the air and howl at the sky. Guilty.

He drew the blade from his pocket and tore it urgently across her dry freckled skin, skinny and shrivelled like her soul. He pressed down hard, cutting through the scarce fat and sinewy muscle, until she was open to the ward’s neon light. He smiled into her dying eyes as he cut, watching as her fear mixed with confusion.

He had a special joy for this one. Another cut to the chest, then he plunged both hands in deep, tearing out the heart that made her live. Showing her what they had done to him, in her last few seconds of life. He watched her brown eyes screaming. Their light fading and flickering like a breaking bulb, until they finally fixed and dulled.

The Visitor rejoiced, careful to be silent, as he watched the useless life seep away. He rocked back and forth to some private melody, for minutes that seemed like hours. Pure joy. Finally he moved and placed the thing on its stomach, reluctant to leave his masterpiece.

Then he thought of the next one and walked off the Unit without a backward look, the door drifting half-closed behind him. There was no need to move this one. They wouldn’t visit the closed ward until tomorrow, giving him plenty of time for his next target. He mustn’t
be discovered yet. There were still tasks to perform.

Laurie Johns took her final breath on the Unit that she’d managed for five years. Her final pulse just strong enough to pump out her remaining blood. All over her nice clean ‘NHS Green’ floor.

***

Beth turned over her last page of notes, watching as Janey surfed the TV channels, finally settling on the five o’clock news. There was nothing else for it. She’d just have to ask.

Her exam was in three days’ time and she needed more books from the M.P.E., so she put on her best wheedling smile.