Nine Lives, Anita Waller [best interesting books to read .txt] 📗

office back at the station. She wanted an address and she wanted it yesterday.

Erica was angry. She felt cheated. The number plate belonged to a red Peugeot that had been sent for scrap, and was originally from Leicester. They were no nearer finding the driver of that car than they had been back at the beginning.

Parking as close as she could, Erica climbed out and headed across the flattened and muddy grassed area towards the source of the River Porter. It was still torrential, despite the temporary cessation of the rain, and she knew it would be fast-flowing for some time as the rain-soaked hills that formed the backdrop to her home city gave up the water they had accumulated over the prolonged period of heavy rainfall.

Her first thought was that it was actually quite beautiful, if a little frightening. They believed the girls had been dead before they’d arrived at the river, and Erica hoped that was the case; if they were still alive, they would have been so terrified. The noise of the water was scary enough, without knowing you were going to die either by the side of it, or in it.

Being there alone was something she felt she had to do, to get a feel for the place when it wasn’t overrun by teams of searchers. She looked all around, before taking a tentative step towards the river itself. Frannie had described it as a gentle brook, bubbling out from its source and gathering momentum as it dropped down for two miles towards the city centre, before it widened to go under culverts and ultimately to the confluence with the Sheaf, under railway platform five.

Erica stood quietly, listening to the roar, and taking in the surroundings. She didn’t feel overawed by it, but she did feel something. Was she feeling a connection with the three girls who had died there? She thought not; she had seen many bodies during her career, and the binding she had felt with them was purely to seek their killer. In most cases it had been finding the proof to convict the person she felt had done it, but this bastard had eluded her for too long. It was time to lock him up, time to stop feeling her thoughts drifting back to twenty-fourteen at odd times when she was working on a different case. The one that got away. Clichéd, and true.

The CCTV had shown that they were on the right track with a car being used to entice the girls, but they hadn’t been able to see if it was a man, woman, or a two-year-old child driving it, although, she thought with a grin, she reckoned they could rule out the child. However, they had a picture of the car and it would be on Look North that evening, asking for the public’s help, but also warning them to be aware of it.

The on-screen picture would block out the registration plates as it was quite possible the killer had several sets, and swapped them around with each attack – they didn’t want the public confused by thinking the car they could see across the road couldn’t be it because it had different number plates.

Erica pulled her jacket as low under her bum as she could get it, and sat on a rock. Thinking time.

Could he have hung on to the car from twenty-fourteen? It certainly hadn’t looked to Erica’s untrained eyes as though it was a newer model – she took out her phone and asked Will Bramwell, who she knew lived and breathed cars.

‘Twenty-o-two to eight,’ he said immediately. He didn’t need thinking time.

‘Thanks, Will. So he could have been using it the first time around.’

‘Definitely. You in the river, boss? The water sounds loud.’

‘If I fall off this rock I will be. I’m not in it yet. I’ve come up to Ringinglow for some thinking time, hence my question about the car.’

‘I have a question that’s running around my head about it, but I’m not sure my answer lies here.’

‘Oh?’

‘I’m probably thinking this because I’m only twenty-four and in my prime…’

Erica laughed. ‘Love it, and you wish. What’s your thought?’

‘If it’s a man, why isn’t he screwing them?’

Erica remained silent for a few seconds.

‘Boss? Sorry if that sounded blunt, but it’s what I’m thinking.’

‘It’s what I’ve thought from the beginning. It’s why I struggle to commit to it being a man. These girls, and the girls back in twenty-fourteen, have all been stunning. There’s a certain sexual aspect to it in that they are posed in a way that offers their bodies to the finders, but unless he gets sexual gratification from playing with them, touching their bodies, it doesn’t make a lot of sense.’

‘But if it’s a woman, she’d have to be fit.’

‘I know. Look, Will, I want you to bring these thoughts up at the briefing, let’s get everybody coming up with theories, because if I know my team, they’ll all be like you and trying to make sense of everything. Call them in for a briefing at four, will you? Then they can get off early, I am aware it’s Halloween.’

She sat for a further ten minutes then walked down to where she could see the crime scene tape that surrounded where they had found Imogen Newland. Imo, Pete had called her. Imo, the woman he clearly loved.

The officer left there to guard the scene jumped up. He too had utilised a rock as a seat, but he had had the foresight to bring a small blanket and a flask with him.

‘Ma’am? Can I help?’

She flashed her warrant card at him and he blushed.

‘I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m new. I didn’t recognise you.’

‘You had any sightseeing visitors?’

‘A man and woman with a dog walked over, but that’s all. I took their names just in case…’

Erica was impressed. ‘Good. Hand them in when you return to the station. I’m heading lower down, so I’ll see you on my way back.’

He smiled. ‘I’ll remember you next