Luke Delaney - Redemption of the Dead

‘They might miss something,’ he argued. ‘But if I could see it then maybe I could make sure they don’t.’

‘Sean, you’re a PC attached to what is now a murder investigation — do you really think I’m going to parade you around the scene and have you tell a lot of very experienced people where they’re going wrong?’

‘If it helps catch the killer — yes.’

‘No,’ Bannan snapped before softening, ‘but listen — maybe I can get copy of the crime scene photographs in a couple of days, when they’ve worked them up.’

‘But they would have taken polaroids already,’ Sean reminded him. ‘I could see them now.’

Bannan shook his head and smiled. ‘You don’t give up do you? Alright, I’ll get you the polaroids and you can tell me what you think.’

‘Okay,’ Sean reluctantly agreed, his eyes cast down.

Bannan rested a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t be too pissed-off, son — remember what I told you — it’s politics, can’t be helped.’ He gave Sean a pat and started to walk away, but Sean stopped him with a question.

‘How did he get in? Was it like I said it would be? Did he wait for someone to get sloppy and leave a door or a window open?’

Bannan slowed to a stop and turned to face him, his skin suddenly a little paler.

‘I was right.’ Sean felt nauseas at the revelation that his prediction had come true.

Bannan looked him up and down for a few seconds before speaking. ‘Alright. Alright, son. Meet me here tonight. Eleven p.m. My office and keep it quiet. This is between the two of us. Understand?’

‘Yes, guv’nor,’ Sean answered with a smile.

‘You won’t be smiling later,’ Bannan told him. ‘That much I am sure of.’

* * *

Weak yellow street light seeped through the windows of the basement flat as Sean and Bannan let themselves in through the front door, leaving the single uniformed constable outside to keep journalists and macabre sight-seers away. Sean sensed Bannan reaching for the light switch and stopped him. ‘Don’t turn them on,’ he told him. ‘Just give me a second.’

‘The lights were on when she was found,’ Bannan explained. ‘Don’t you want to see it how he saw it?’

‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘In a minute, but not yet.’

Bannan didn’t argue, staying by the front door as Sean stepped a little deeper into hell. ‘Careful, son,’ he warned. ‘Forensics haven’t completed their examination yet. They’ll be back in the morning.’ Sean nodded to himself in the dark and stepped to the side of the hallway, hugging the wall, breathing in deeply, smelling and tasting the scene, the telltale metallic scent of blood — something he was already too familiar with — as he squinted in the gloom, trying to focus on the hallway ahead, seeing small dark patches on the carpet just ahead, the copper taste in his mouth growing stronger as he crouched closer to the largest of the circular patches. ‘Blood,’ Bannan confirmed, reminding Sean that he wasn’t alone. ‘Looks like she was first attacked in the hallway, but probably not fatally. After the initial attack he appears to have dragged her into the living room, where he cut her throat and … well, you’ve seen the polaroids.’ Sean agreed with everything Bannan said, while shaking his head slowly at the horror of what he described.

‘How did he get in?’ Sean asked.

‘Through the victim’s bedroom window — she’d left it open, for whatever reason. We think he’d been hiding out there a while — in the trees, watching her.’

‘He did,’ Sean told him.

‘Did what?’

‘Hide out there — watching them , waiting — building himself up — praying she wouldn’t close and lock the window.’ There was a silence before Sean spoke again, bracing himself before he did so. ‘You can turn the light on now.’ Bannan shook his head to clear his thoughts, reaching behind for the light switch, pausing as his fingers found it before flooding the hallway with the cruelest of light. Bannan had seen the crime scene earlier that day, when both bodies had been found.

The shadows on the floor Sean was crouched next to suddenly became imperfect vivid maroon circles, some as much as two inches in diameter, some just tiny drops that had sprayed from her body when she was first stabbed or dropped off the blade of the knife as he retracted the weapon from her abdomen. Most of the blood had dried into the carpet now, but the larger drops, where the blood was thickest, still shimmered with wetness. Sean looked away and closed his eyes, quickly opening them again when images of the maniac stabbing furiously at the woman’s lower body flooded into his mind. He stood and started moving towards the lounge. ‘I need to see where she was found.’

‘Just be careful,’ Bannan reminded him, following Sean along the corridor.

‘Has the light switch already been checked for prints?’ Sean asked.

‘Yeah,’ Bannan told him, ‘all the fingerprint work’s been done.’

‘Good,’ Sean told him and flicked it on, revealing a scene that physically knocked the breath from his chest — despite the fact the bodies had been removed. The sofa was soaked with dark red blood — the floor, walls and every piece of furniture were either heavily stained or sprayed with more blood. Even the picture frames, vases and other bric-a-brac bore witness to the slaughter. ‘Jesus Christ,’ Sean exclaimed, trying to catch his breath. ‘The man we’re after’s in an unstoppable rage. Unless we catch him soon there’ll be others — others like this one — others like Rebecca Fordham. Because this is absolutely the work of the same man and this is what he’s been waiting for all these months — the chance to be alone inside with his victim — to be able to take his time.’

‘Victims,’ Bannan reminded him.

‘Yes,’ Sean acknowledged, ‘victims.’ There was another silence for a few seconds. ‘Did he disembowel her?’

‘Yes,’ Bannan confirmed, ‘and more — worse.’

‘Then he took some of her, something from her body as a trophy.’

‘He’d removed a number of her internal organs and displayed them. The post-mortem should be able to confirm if anything is missing.’

‘And did he cover her?’ Sean asked. ‘Not her body, but her face?’

‘He did. Why?’

‘Because he couldn’t stand her looking at him, her eyes accusing him, hating him for what he was doing, so he covered her — that way he could remember her as she’d been when he’d seen her alive — wanting him.’

‘You know what?’ Bannan said, ‘all this, everything you say makes sense — his motivation, the taking of trophies, but what I can’t understand is why the daughter as well? Why the little girl?’

‘Power,’ Sean almost snapped at him. ‘That’s why. If he could have he would have killed the other children — the ones whose mothers he raped — the ultimate show of his power.’

‘We’re pretty sure he raped the daughter before he stabbed her,’ Bannan told him in a hushed voice, as if just talking about the four-year old girl was disrespectful or lurid.

‘You sure?’ Sean asked, puzzled. ‘I didn’t expect that. Killing her yes, but not that.’

‘Maybe you just didn’t want to see it,’ Bannan suggested. ‘Maybe you’ve already seen too much.’

Sean ignored him. ‘Then he covered her face too — for the same reasons — didn’t he?’

‘Her face was covered,’ Bannan admitted, ‘as for the reasons why — who knows. Maybe God does or the devil or … you.’

‘I don’t know anything,’ Sean argued. ‘I just put the pieces together and make a calculated guess.’

‘We both know that’s not true. You have a gift, Sean. The crime scene comes alive for you. You can see the killer here. You can feel him. You can think like him. It’s a gift, but it’ll be a curse too.’