Bad Seed: a gripping serial killer thriller (DI Kate Fletcher Book 3) Page 2

  ‘Would any doctor know how to do it?’

  ‘Probably. Obviously some would be specialists.’

  ‘What about nurses?’

  ‘A bit unlikely. It’s a surgical procedure. But everything’s changing in medicine at the moment so I can’t say for sure. It’s not my field.’

  ‘Is it difficult?’

  ‘It’s major surgery. You have to cut through the abdominal wall, avoid the colon and the bladder then into the uterus.’

  Kate felt her insides tightening in response to his description.

  ‘And the woman would be anaesthetised? Normally?’

  ‘Either under general anaesthetic or an epidural could be administered.’

  She tried to imagine the scene. The victim dragged into the bushes, subdued, strangled and then…? Did he cut her before she’d died? If so, how did he stop her from screaming? If Barratt’s account was correct it seemed more likely that the procedure had been carried out after she’d lost consciousness. Or after she’d died.

  ‘Does that help?’ Nick asked.

  ‘It might.’

  ‘But you can’t talk about it.’

  ‘I can’t but you’ve given me something to think about,’ Kate said, swinging her legs from under the duvet. ‘I’ll pay you back tonight.’

  Nick linked his hands behind his head and grinned at her lewdly. ‘Oh, you will indeed.’

  Kate had just poured herself a coffee when her phone rang. She tucked it between her ear and her shoulder leaving her hands free to add milk to her drink. It was Raymond, her DCI at Doncaster Central.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Kate. We might have an ID for the body on Town Fields. A misper report came in in the early hours. Bloke from Rossington hasn’t seen his wife in over twenty-four hours. Your team’s body fits her description. I’ve sent a uniform round to accompany the husband down here and I want you and Hollis to do the interview. Half an hour.’

  He hung up. Kate checked the time on her phone. Just gone seven. She’d been planning an early start anyway to get her team up to speed before she had to attend the post-mortem, but not quite this early. Pouring her coffee into an insulated mug, she grabbed the slice of toast that she’d buttered but not even managed a bite from, shouted a loud goodbye to the beautiful man in her bed and headed for her Mini.

  Ryan Buckley was waiting in an interview room when Kate arrived at Doncaster Central. She met Raymond and Hollis in the observation suite where they were discussing strategy. Hollis grinned at her as she entered the room but there was something a bit off about his smile – it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His jacket sleeves were wrinkled as if he’d been rolling them up and he had a scruffy growth of stubble across his chin and neck. Kate frowned at him, puzzled by the deterioration in his habitually tidy appearance.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked. ‘You look like you’ve been up all night, and not in a good way.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ he responded, turning back to the DCI who had been watching their exchange with irritation. Raymond did look immaculate. His charcoal suit was sharply pressed and his white shirt was almost dazzlingly bright. The cut of both accentuated his recent weight loss as did his short haircut and his closely shaven face. Kate had noted the transition in her boss over the past few months and wondered if he was having an affair but, having met his wife, Diana, that seemed a little unlikely if he wanted to keep his testicles.

  ‘Done with the pleasantries?’ Raymond snapped. ‘We have a suspect to interview.’

  ‘Suspect?’ Kate asked. ‘You’re convinced that it was his wife’s body that we found yesterday?’

  Raymond nodded gravely. ‘Fits the description. And the time frame. He hasn’t seen her since he left for work on Saturday morning. He rung everybody he could think of before reporting her missing. He gave a statement to the attending officer who flagged it up because of the body we recovered yesterday. Obviously, if it is the same woman, we need to tread carefully; wouldn’t be the first time a murderer reported his victim missing.’

  Kate turned to the glass between the observation suite and the interview room.

  ‘He looks pretty upset. Why aren’t we interviewing him in his home?’

  The man was sitting with one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, his foot jiggling frantically. His hands alternated between drumming on the table top and picking at an invisible thread on the sleeve of his fleece jacket.

  ‘He offered to come down here to add to his initial statement, to save time,’ Raymond said.

  ‘Which gives us a chance to observe and assess,’ Kate added.

  ‘Fletcher, you lead. Hollis make notes. He might be completely legit and we need to be sensitive to that. And don’t mention the body – especially the injuries.’

  Hollis led the way to the interview room in silence. Kate would have expected him to ask her about her strategy but he kept his back to her until they entered the room, obviously lost in his own thoughts, or trying to avoid any more questions about his appearance. They both took seats opposite Ryan Buckley and Hollis left Kate to introduce them.

  Buckley listened attentively as he was given their names, his eyes fixed on Kate expectantly. His hands had stopped fidgeting and he leaned forwards slightly in his seat. He was solidly built; big hands and a broad face. His hair was shaved quite close to his scalp leaving a thin covering of dark bristles, which matched the stubble around his mouth and on his chin. He was huddled in a dark blue fleece jacket and he stuffed his hands into the pockets as he leaned in to talk to the two detectives.

  ‘Have you found her?’ he asked.

  ‘Mr Buckley,’ Kate said, ignoring the question. ‘We need to establish the facts around your wife’s disappearance. I need to ask you some questions and your answers may help us to find Melissa as speedily as possible.’

  His shoulders sagged and he lowered his head. ‘So you’ve not found her.’

  ‘Not yet. But, with your help, we hope to do so soon.’

  He snorted; half laugh, half grunt of disgust. ‘With my help. I know how this works. Now you’ve got me here you want to know if I’ve done away with my wife. That’s it isn’t it? Always look at the husband or the boyfriend because they’re the most likely murderer or kidnapper or whatever. Well go on then, ask me your questions. I’ve got nothing to hide.’

  He pushed his chair back from the table, spread his legs and folded his arms across his chest in a challenge.

  ‘But make it quick will you? I need to try to find my wife.’

  ‘That’s not what’s happening here, Mr Buckley,’ Kate lied. ‘We want to help you. I’ve looked at your statement and I want to get more detail, establish times and places as clearly as possible. Is that okay?’

  A curt nod from Buckley.

  ‘Right,’ Kate opened the folder containing Buckley’s initial statement and scanned the first page. She’d already read it but she wanted to convince him that he was being taken seriously. The description he’d given matched the body that had been found the previous day but the woman wasn’t especially unusual. Average height, average build, dark hair. Buckley said that his wife had still been in her dressing gown when he’d left home which didn’t help with using clothing to identify her.

  ‘Is there anything you can add to your description of your wife? Any scars, tattoos, birthmarks?’

  Buckley’s eyes flicked backwards and forwards as though he were reading an image of his wife’s body, looking for clues. ‘She has a small scar on her left knee, came off her bike when she was little. It’s a crescent shape. She’s also got three moles on her left shoulder blade – like a triangle. No tattoos. Her ears are pierced a few times though, but she let some of the holes heal up.’

  Hollis noted down the details while Buckley started to look even more agitated. He obviously realised that such details could be used to identify a body.

  ‘Have you found her? Or somebody who looks like her?’

  Kate shook her head. ‘We’re just trying to gather as much inf
ormation as possible, Mr Buckley. The more help you can give us the more chance we have of locating Melissa.’

  He seemed to accept this, his shoulders dropping slightly as some of the tension was released from his body.

  ‘So you last saw your wife the day before yesterday when you left for work at 7.45am. Is that correct?’

  ‘I usually leave before her,’ Buckley confirmed. ‘She does shifts and she’s been on late morning starts for the last few weeks. I work alternate Saturday mornings and she works one weekend a month.’

  ‘Where does she work?’

  ‘She works for LNER – on the trains.’

  ‘So she travels?’

  Another nod.

  ‘And did you think she was away for her work on Saturday night? Is that why you didn’t report her missing sooner?’

  Buckley sighed and dropped his eyes, scanning the table top, unable to look at Kate. She was prepared for a lie or, at least, an excuse but when Buckley raised his head again she felt convinced that he was about to share a difficult truth.

  ‘I wasn’t sure where she was,’ he said. ‘I rang some of her friends on Saturday night but nobody would admit to having seen her.’

  ‘Admit to? That’s an unusual way to put it. What do you mean by that?’ Kate asked, alarm bells ringing.

  Buckley uncrossed his arms and wiped a hand across his mouth and chin, inhaling sharply through his nose. ‘We’d been arguing a lot recently. I know how that’s going to look but I might as well tell you now in case you find out later. We’d not been getting on and Mel had spent a couple of nights away from me – to get some headspace, she said.’

  Kate felt Hollis tense beside her, his writing hand stilled as he regarded the man opposite them.

  ‘What sort of mood was Melissa in when you left for work on Saturday?’

  Buckley flushed as he admitted that his wife had been in a ‘foul’ mood.

  ‘And what had caused her to be in a bad mood?’ Kate could see where this might be going and thanked the forces of the universe that Buckley was here voluntarily. He might keep talking with a bit of encouragement.

  ‘We’d been arguing the night before. I slept in the spare room. When I heard her getting up I went down to the kitchen, to make peace, like. But she was having none of it. Called me a selfish bastard, went back up to our bedroom and slammed the door. You can see why I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t come home. I thought she might be with one of her friends – that’s what she did before but, like I said, nobody seems to have heard from her. Her car’s missing so she must have gone out somewhere.’

  ‘What does she drive?’ Hollis asked.

  Buckley described a red Ford Fiesta and gave Hollis the registration number. Kate knew what her colleague was thinking. Trace the car and they might trace the woman. And, if she was the body on Town Fields then the car might prove very informative.

  ‘Tell me about the argument,’ Kate said. ‘What was it about?’

  ‘Buckley gave her a regretful smile. ‘Same as ever. Money.’

  ‘But you work?’

  ‘I work at Selby’s. I’m a mechanic.’

  Kate was aware of Hollis writing down every word. They’d visit Selby’s Garage at some point during the day and get a picture of this man from his workmates.

  ‘Pay not good?’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Buckley said. ‘But it’s never enough. Bills to pay, mortgage, that kind of thing. You know how it is for everybody these days.’

  Kate smiled in agreement but her mind was busy calculating what the couple might earn between them. Enough to cover a modest mortgage at least. She’d seen from Buckley’s statement that they had no children and the area where they lived wasn’t known for being expensive. Perhaps there were debts?

  ‘Okay. What about Melissa’s friends? You rang a few people?’

  Buckley dug in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. ‘Tamsin, Lucy, Ellie. Their names and phone numbers are on there.’ He slid the paper across to Kate. ‘My mobile’s at the bottom. I suppose you’ll want to check that I made the calls and what time.’

  He’s well prepared, Kate thought. Either he really did want them to find his wife or he’d done a very thorough job of covering his tracks.

  ‘I’ll need Melissa’s mobile number as well,’ Kate said, passing him the piece of paper back with a pen. ‘And any other friends that you haven’t managed to contact.’

  Buckley scribbled down more information and then passed pen and paper back across the table. He’d added two more female names and his wife’s mobile number. Kate put the paper in her folder, closed it and stood up. ‘I think we have everything we need for now, Mr Buckley,’ she said, extending her hand for him to shake. ‘My colleague will walk you out and I’ll be in touch as soon as we make progress on your wife’s case.’

  Buckley looked down at her hand then up at Hollis as though he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do next. He got to his feet, shook hands and allowed Hollis to lead him out into the corridor while Kate went to join Raymond in the observation suite.

  ‘Well?’ she asked her boss who was still staring through the glass.

  Raymond turned and smiled. ‘He’s lying.’

  Kate grinned back. ‘You got that as well? Whatever he and his wife argued about, it was more complicated than just money. I’m not sure what they did fight about, but when we find out, we might find out what happened to her.’

  Chapter 3

  ‘Right folks, listen up,’ Kate addressed her team, each of them staring at her expectantly. She’d organised the use of one of the incident rooms so that she could gather them together and explain her concerns about Melissa Buckley. Now, seated around the conference table, all eyes moved from Kate’s to the whiteboard behind her as she tapped the remote for the projector.

  ‘We’ve got a missing woman who matches the description of the body found on Town Fields yesterday,’ Kate said as an image of Melissa Buckley filled the screen. It was obviously taken at a party as Melissa had a champagne glass in her hand and her cheeks were flushed with either alcohol or excitement. She was wearing an ivory-coloured dress which highlighted her dark hair and eyes and her subtle make-up added to the effect. She was stunning.

  Barratt narrowed his eyes as he took in every detail of the photograph. He was the only member of the team to have seen the body close up and Kate was relying on him to confirm the ID; or not. She waited until he looked away and raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Well?’

  ‘It’s her,’ he said.

  ‘How sure are you?’

  He stood up and pointed to where Melissa had tucked her hair behind one ear. ‘See there. There’s an earring and three other holes. A bit unusual, like she might have been a Goth or a punk in a previous life. The woman we found yesterday had four piercing holes in each ear. No earrings but the marks were obvious. Her hair is shorter in the photograph but I’m convinced that the body is that of this woman.’

  He sat back down, his eyes flicking around the faces of his colleagues as though he was expecting a barrage of questions but they all remained silent, waiting to hear what Kate had to say.

  ‘Okay, good,’ she began. ‘Her husband reported her missing at just after one o’clock this morning. He claims she’d left for work on Saturday morning and hadn’t come home. He’d rung a few of her friends but nobody admitted to having seen her. He gave it another twelve hours or so and then rang it in as a misper.’

  ‘Did she go to work on Saturday?’ Cooper asked. The youngest member of the team, Sam Cooper was still feeling her way into her role and had only recently discovered the confidence to express her ideas in briefings. ‘If she didn’t, then that raises questions.’

  Kate smiled at her. ‘Early days, Sam. That’s something that we need to find out. She worked for LNER out of Doncaster Station.’

  ‘So she would have been in uniform. They used to wear long red coats and smart dresses. It might have changed though.’

&nb
sp; ‘Nothing like that at the scene,’ Barratt said. ‘She’d been wearing jeans and a scoop-neck top. Not even red.’

  Kate noticed O’Connor’s moustache twitch upwards as Barratt stumbled over ‘scoop-neck’, obviously enjoying his colleague’s discomfort when describing women’s clothing.

  ‘So we need to check if she was expected at work – it might be that employees have changing facilities at the station,’ Kate suggested. ‘There’s also the question of her car. Red Fiesta. We need to see if it’s in staff parking at Doncaster Station and, if it’s not there, get all the streets around Town Fields checked as well. Dan, any thoughts?’

  Hollis glanced at the photograph and then back at his boss looking exactly as if he’d been asked a tricky question at school and hadn’t been listening properly. ‘CCTV around Town Fields?’

  Another twitch of O’Connor’s moustache. Hollis obviously hadn’t been listening very carefully. CCTV was a given in this type of case.

  ‘Follow up with the friends that the husband spoke to?’ O’Connor suggested. ‘Work colleagues as well. Get an idea of who she was, what the relationship was like.’

  Kate nodded.

  ‘And the bottom end of Town Fields is well known for “nocturnal activities”. I could ask some of the girls if they saw anything on Saturday night.’

  Typical O’Connor; straight to the seedier side of the community.

  ‘Right. Good. Jobs then. Sam – follow up on CCTV. Try to get bank details as well, the husband said that they had money worries but I wasn’t convinced. Steve – see if you can use your contacts to round up anybody who might have been working round Town Fields that night. Matt – organise the search for the car and get down to the railway station, see if you can find any of her colleagues to talk to.’

  Barratt stood up, raring to go as usual.

  ‘Dan, with me.’

  She waited until the others had left and then studied her colleague. His blond hair was unusually scruffy-looking, suggesting that he hadn’t had time to gel it and the stubble on his face was a couple of shades darker than his fair hair making him look like an out-of-work George Michael impersonator. He’d pushed the sleeves of his suit jacket up over his elbows, adding to the creases she’d noticed earlier and his bloodshot eyes refused to focus on her face.