Vigilante (13 page)

‘Are you going to find anything on Lee Morgan’s body?’

‘I wouldn’t have thought so. We usually find things pretty early, it just takes time to do the testing afterwards.’

‘So what made you want to hang around dead bodies for a living then?’

‘I don’t know really. I got into it by accident. I always liked science at school and then ended up doing it at university. I didn’t want to leave Grandma so went to the local uni and lived at home. I just fell into the job.’

Jessica nodded. ‘I pretty much fell into the police stuff too. It wasn’t as if I had dreamed of dealing with all this stuff when I was a kid. It just happened.’

‘Do you enjoy it?’

It was Jessica’s turn to look out the window. She was fine with talking to people about what she did but not so good with her feelings. In truth, she didn’t know if she liked her job. She enjoyed some of the people and the teamwork that came with it. She liked it when things went well and bad people were caught. But, overall, she didn’t know. It was a question she tried not to ask herself, especially since her friendship with Caroline had deteriorated. They had been best friends since the age of sixteen and then, whether she liked it or not, it had been her job that had split them up.

She looked out across the street where one of the pubs had a bright neon sign that simply said, ‘Live football’.

‘Do you want a pint?’

It was clearly not the answer to the question Adam had asked. ‘Sorry?’

‘Do you want a pint? Let’s pay up here and go get a proper drink.’

‘All right.’

Jessica signalled for the bill. Adam went to pay with a card but Jessica insisted on giving him half the money back in cash. They stood to leave and, as they were walking out, Adam tripped over the step that led back onto the pavement. Even though he had relaxed, he still had that awkward streak.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked, again trying not to laugh.

‘Yeah, sorry.’

‘What did I say about that word?’

They crossed the road and Jessica ordered two pints of lager. They found a round table near the front door where no one else was sitting.

Adam looked at his watch as they sat. ‘All right?’ Jessica asked.

‘It’s just Grandma. She tells me not to worry but you still do. I got her a mobile phone so she could call if there was a problem but she doesn’t have a clue. I programmed my numbers in for her but she’ll only call my work number from the landline. She thinks a mobile can only call another mobile, even though I’ve told her. Then if she wants me, she’ll do this thing where she rings once and quickly hangs up before the call connects. She reckons it costs a fortune to call anyone.’

‘Do you want to go after this one then?’

‘Yeah, sor…I mean, er, I’ve had a good time…’

‘Me too.’

‘Honestly?’

‘Believe me, Adam, if I hadn’t, you would be the first person to know about it.’

Jessica felt a little guilty and drank up as quickly as she thought she could without looking like an alcoholic. Adam followed her lead and they left their glasses on the table before leaving.

‘How are you getting back?’ he asked.

‘The bus stop over there,’ Jessica said, nodding across the road. ‘It takes me straight home. What about you?’

‘One of the tram routes runs pretty close to my house.’

It was an awkward moment. Adam was looking a little nervous again, so Jessica took the initiative, reaching out and taking his left hand in her right. ‘I really have had a good evening,’ she said.

‘Me too.’

She leant in to kiss him but he seemed surprised by her movement and tilted his head the wrong way. They ended up softly bumping foreheads.

Jessica pulled back but carried on holding his hand. ‘You’ve not done this too much, have you?’

‘Not for a while.’

The second time around, Jessica made sure she was in control, kissing him gently and then pulling away. ‘We’ll do this again. I’ll send you a text or something, okay?’

‘Great.’

Jessica crossed the road and stood at the bus stop as Adam walked up the main road. The traffic was light but, as she squinted into the distance to see if there was a bus with the number she was waiting for coming towards her, Jessica’s thoughts drifted back to the case. She thought about Adam’s question she had dodged.

She was lost in her thoughts when the bus eventually pulled in. She paid the fare and took the first seat on the lower level. She hadn’t focused on the journey down the main road out of the city but, as they reached the junction where the bus would turn towards her house, Jessica noticed flashing blue lights in the other direction.

Just because she was a police officer, it didn’t mean she had to intervene in every incident she ever saw but Jessica had a feeling. The driver had stopped anyway and she asked him to let her out. At first he mumbled something about not being a proper stop but she told him she was a police officer and he opened the doors.

She walked quickly down towards the scene, recognising one of the uniformed officers standing nearby.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

The officer looked back at her, clearly not realising who she was at first. He would have only ever seen her in her work suit with her hair tied back.

‘Oh, right, sorry,’ he said when she stood next to him. ‘I didn’t recognise you looking like a girl. The call came in half-hour ago – there’s another body.’

FIFTEEN

DCI Farraday’s words were spiralling around Jessica’s head. She remembered them exactly: ‘If this guy’s for real we might get lucky and have another piece of shit off the streets by Monday’.

She said the first thing that came into her head. ‘Who’s dead?’

The officer was clearly confused. He pointed towards one of the flats on the opposite side of the road. ‘I don’t know. One of the people who live there phoned it in. They said they’d heard a disturbance and saw some man running off. I don’t think she knows who the body is though. The woman didn’t realise someone was dead until after she had called us. She was only reporting a fight.’

Jessica had made a rash assumption that, because the first three bodies had been well-known to the police, this one would be too. It dawned on her that this could be nothing to do with the ‘vigilante’ and instead some disturbance that had got out of hand. ‘Where is she?’

‘In her flat. Someone’s up there talking to her now. She had come down but the Scene of Crime team will be here in a minute and won’t want anyone around the body.’

Now she looked properly, Jessica could see there was a small tent-type structure over the top of what was presumably the body. It wasn’t a full white one like the SOCO squad would use to walk in and out of, just something temporary to prevent anything being contaminated.

Jessica nodded towards it. ‘Can I have a look?’

The officer blew out through his teeth. ‘Up to you, I’m not authorising anything.’

Jessica walked over and pulled down the zip to look inside. She instantly looked towards the corpse’s neck for a knife wound but there wasn’t one. There was a lot of blood though. Glancing back towards the face, Jessica realised she didn’t know if the person was male or female. She would have guessed a man but the face was battered and very badly bruised. There was no way she would have been able to recognise who it was, even if they were a well-known local criminal. She zipped the cover back up and checked the number of the witness’ flat with the officer before crossing the road.

She was aware she wasn’t really dressed for the moment and didn’t have her identification but Jessica knocked on the door and was relieved when it was opened by one of the uniformed female officers she knew. ‘You were quick,’ the officer said, eyeing Jessica’s attire.

‘Just luck. I was on a bus and saw the lights. How’s the witness?’

‘Shaken but okay. Do you want to come in?’

The officer led Jessica through to the living room where a woman was sitting with her feet underneath her on a brown leather sofa. She stood as Jessica came entered, looking to the officer for assurance.

‘This is one of the local sergeants,’ the officer said. Jessica introduced herself properly and apologised for her outfit. After deciding she was happy the woman was in a fit state to talk, Jessica asked her what she had seen. At some point a proper witness statement would need to be taken but she was feeling impatient.

‘It was pretty dark out and I couldn’t see completely because of where the street lights are,’ the woman said. ‘You could hear some sort of scuffle though and some guy was shouting – that’s what made me get up and look.’

‘Could you hear what was being shouted?’

‘No, I’m not sure they were even proper words, just noises.’

‘What happened while you were watching?’

‘One man was on top of the other, punching him over and over.’

‘Did you see a knife?’

‘I don’t know, I don’t think so.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘Eventually he stopped and ran off. That was it really. I didn’t realise the one on the floor was dead. I phoned you because there was a fight and I thought whoever was on the ground would need an ambulance. I would have gone out but you never know who’s out there at night, do you?’

Jessica nodded, trying to look reassuring. ‘Are you sure they were both men?’

‘Definitely.’

Jessica asked her next question and held her breath. She knew the answer could be crucial. ‘Did you get a good look at the man who ran off?’

The woman squinted as if to indicate she was thinking. ‘It was dark but he ran straight under that light opposite. I think I’d recognise him. He wasn’t massive, more like one of those rugby players. Do you know what I mean? Kind of thick and strong but not fat. He had dark hair but it was quite short.’

Jessica thought the description sounded a lot like Donald McKenna. She remembered the prison governor telling her they were locked up from eight at night until eight in the morning. She looked over at the clock on the wall; it was almost ten.

‘How old would you say he was?’

‘That’s hard to say. Maybe somewhere in his thirties? I don’t know. He had one of those faces, either a younger man who looks older or an older man who looks younger. I’ve never been that good with guessing people’s ages anyway.’

It wasn’t an exact description for the man supposed to be locked in Manchester Prison but it wasn’t too far away either. Given the darkness and the distance, it could be accurate. Jessica explained they would need her to visit the station and give a formal witness statement and then asked if she would mind doing it that night even though it was late. The woman didn’t seem too put out, so Jessica phoned the station and asked the desk sergeant to make sure someone would be on site to sort out a sketch. Not that long ago, it would have been someone with a giant drawing pad and a pencil but most of the profiling was now done through a computer. It could have waited until the next morning but Jessica thought it was best if someone took the description of the assailant while it was fresh.

Back downstairs, the Scene of Crime team had arrived, as had more marked police cars. Jessica arranged for one of the officers to drive the witness to the station.

It was going to be a long night.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The next day, the station was again buzzing with activity and anticipation. The murder had happened too late for the newspapers to get the story but the morning’s news broadcasts had led with the e-fit of the killer, as had plenty of news websites. At the start of the main national news bulletin, the newsreader’s first words were: ‘Is this the face of Manchester’s vigilante killer?’

Farraday arrived at the station in the early hours and insisted the photo be released to the media. Jessica had reservations considering there was no formal link to the other killings and she knew they would connect everything regardless of whether it was true. It wasn’t her call though and her boss said that even if the cases weren’t linked, it would at least get them more attention than they might usually have.

Jessica saw his reasoning but thought the opposite was also true; someone might recognise the picture but not phone in because they didn’t think their friend or family member was the so-called vigilante. She had seen the computer sketch and hadn’t changed her opinion from the night before. It looked a bit like Donald McKenna but perhaps slightly too young. It certainly wasn’t enough to start building a case against him.

She had phoned the prison the night before after arriving back at the station. It sounded like Dennis who answered on reception but, whoever it was, he didn’t hesitate in putting her through to the wing she asked for. She spoke to the warden on duty and asked him to check on Donald McKenna. The warden didn’t sound too pleased, especially considering the tension the prison staff must all be feeling after Lee Morgan’s death, but did as she asked. He came back to her a few minutes later and assured her the prisoner was in his cell.

Jessica didn’t know how many times she was going to have to make a phone call like that. She was already up to two and each one sounded ridiculous. They couldn’t request the prisoner be put under constant watch, or placed in an isolation cell which he couldn’t walk away from, without actually charging him. But they couldn’t charge him unless they had significantly more proof than they did. If the prisoner had somehow committed this new crime, he would have had just enough time to get out and back again given the timings of the incident and her phone call to the jail.

The one piece of good news the next morning was that they had identified the body. The Scene of Crime team found a wallet in the victim’s pocket with a provisional driving licence. There was also a mobile phone in his other pocket. The full results wouldn’t be back from the labs for a few hours but there was no reason to assume someone would have planted another person’s ID on a dead body.

Robert Graves wasn’t as well-known to the police as the other victims but he did have a record. He was eighteen but had been arrested for shoplifting when he was thirteen. His most recent offence was taking a vehicle without consent and driving without a full licence or insurance. According to his file, it was his mother’s car he had taken and she had reported him.

The man’s identity clouded Jessica’s impression of whether he was linked to the other killings. The fact his wallet and phone had been left was similar to the first victim and showed it wasn’t just a mugging that had gone too far but the way he had been killed was different. Even without the full test results, Jessica could see he had been beaten to death, rather than stabbed. There was also something a little different about his criminal record. The prison officer may have been corrupt, while the other three were drug dealers with a history of violence, but Robert Graves was just a pest. There were thefts, muggings and plenty of drink-related incidents, despite his age, but nothing that singled him out as dangerous compared to the others.

Despite that, there was no deterring Farraday from his belief the vigilante killer had returned. He had been in his office the entire morning making phone calls to various people, as Cole was left trying to connect Lee Morgan to the rest of the bodies or Donald McKenna. Jessica’s job was to visit Robert Graves’ parents.

Their house wasn’t too far away from where their son’s body had been found the previous evening. Jessica had taken DC Jones with her in a marked police car. The estate they lived on was known for being fairly rough but the Graves’ home was beautifully kept, making it stand out from the rest of the properties. The house next door had various car parts strewn on the front garden but theirs had a lawn mown in immaculate straight lines, with neat trimmed hedges and a well-kept flower bed that ran underneath the front window.

Jessica knew from experience that you could tell a lot about the people you were going to speak to by the first impression you had of where they lived. It didn’t always hold true and you had to be careful about the assumptions you made but she felt instantly that the Graveses wouldn’t be the stereotypical type of family who lived in this area.

Jones knocked on the front door and a man let them in. He had clearly been crying and led them through to a living room where a family liaison officer was sitting with a woman who also looked as if she had recently been in tears. The officer would have been sent out to inform the parents their son’s body had been found.

Jessica introduced herself and DC Jones. The man said his name was Arthur and his wife was Jackie. Their living room looked as if it had been decorated recently and was as well-presented as the outside of the house. Arthur offered to make them all tea but the family liaison officer went to do it instead, leaving the four of them alone. It was always an awkward judgement to make as to whether bereaved relatives were stable enough to talk to you in a situation like this. You had to balance their feelings with the necessity to get the freshest information you could.

‘Are you both all right to talk?’ Jessica asked. The two parents nodded. They were both somewhere in their early forties but the grief seemed to have aged them, each sporting puffy, swollen eyes. ‘Do you know if your son was out with anyone last night?’

Arthur and Jackie looked at each other but it was Jackie who answered. ‘We never knew really. He struggled to find a job and seemed to spend all his time out drinking. We knew some of his friends’ faces but not names. They weren’t the same mates he had back at school.’

‘Do you have any other children?’

‘No, just Rob. That’s why it was so hard when he started getting into trouble…’ Jackie tailed off into tears and Carrie picked up a box of tissues from a coffee table in the centre of the room and went to sit next to her. Arthur was sitting on the other side and put a hand on his wife’s shoulder as she blew her nose.

He picked up the conversation. ‘I know you’ve probably seen the trouble he’s been in but he really is a good kid. It’s just hard around here with the gangs and so on. He gets easily drawn into things and then he’s the one who gets left behind when his mates make a run for it. He’s always been like that. We thought that when he left school he would get a job somewhere and sort himself out but there’s nothing about. If anything it made it worse because he started drinking. Some of the older lads around here would buy those big bottles of cider and stuff like that. We’d given him the odd glass of wine, like you do, but he wasn’t used to it all.’

Jessica nodded along as the man spoke. The story wasn’t entirely dissimilar to the tale Craig Millar’s mother had told her, albeit Robert sounded like much more of a follower than a leader.

Arthur Graves continued. ‘We tried to get him to stop but what can you do? He’s eighteen years old, it’s not as if you can ground him. He’s bigger than both of us anyway. We’ve been looking to move into a better area for a while but we can’t afford somewhere else without selling this one. We’ve done our best to get everything tidy but potential buyers turn up and see the state of the area and aren’t interested. You can’t blame them, I guess.’

Jessica didn’t know what to say. Robert Graves was no angel but he wasn’t a tearaway with an axe to grind against the world because he had a traumatic family life. His parents clearly cared about him.

‘Do you know any of the people he regularly hung around with or if he was in a gang? Did he ever bring people over?’

Arthur shook his head. ‘I wish I could tell you. I know we should have paid more attention but I don’t know. After he took the car, we didn’t want to know.’