Steven Dunne - The Disciple

Brook smiled at Noble. ‘You have been at a Reaper crime scene before. Why don’t you tell me?’

Noble looked around the room with new eyes. He gave a half-smile to Brook, then called across to one of the SOCOs who was kneeling to dust a beer can next to the bed. ‘Are the bodies in the bed exactly as they were found?’

When Brook and Noble returned to the ground floor, DS Morton was waiting for them. He held up a rubbish bin containing a selection of discarded blue and white plastic wrappers.

‘Looks like our victims had a lot of meat in them, sir.’ Morton nodded at the contents. ‘Sausages, burgers, kebabs. Think we can rule out cholesterol?’ he added with a grin, which froze under Brook’s baleful stare.

‘What does it say on the packet?’

‘Moorcrofts,’ chipped in Noble. ‘It’s a local butcher in Normanton.’

Brook nodded. ‘Makes sense if the meat was a gift from the killer. Asda has CCTV.’

‘Also local butchers might struggle to pinpoint when the meat was bought.’

‘There’s a good chance they’ll remember someone buying barbecue food in winter. Get those packets bagged and get someone round there,’ instructed Brook.

At that moment DC Cooper popped his head round the door. ‘Chief Super’s here, sir.’

‘Thank God,’ said Noble. ‘I feel safer already.’

Brook and Noble left the kitchen. As they rounded the corner of the house, Noble muttered, ‘What the hell are they doing here?’ Brook followed his stare. DCI Hudson and DS Grant were donning protective clothing alongside Chief Superintendent Charlton. ‘Sir, they’ve got no place…’

‘Calm yourself, John. More pairs of eyes can’t hurt. Morning, sir,’ he shouted over the drone of the helicopter passing overhead.

‘Inspector. Sergeant. What’s good about it?’ returned the Chief Super.

‘Nothing if you’re a member of the Ingham clan, sir.’

‘Quite.’ Charlton hesitated, realising Brook, and especially Noble, expected further words from him. ‘I sent a car for DCI Hudson and DS Grant so they can have a gander and share their impressions with us — as they’re in the vicinity. More hands make light work, eh?’ he finished with a half laugh, unable to meet Brook’s eyes.

‘Morning, Joshua, Sergeant Grant,’ smiled Brook. ‘I thought you’d be back on the south coast by now.’

‘Lucky we weren’t,’ muttered Grant, a little louder than she intended, and Brook narrowed his eyes to divine her meaning. It didn’t take long.

‘You don’t look so good, Joshua,’ observed Brook.

‘No. I had a rough night. I didn’t have time to have all the vaccinations before we came up north.’ Noble took tight-lipped offence but Brook, not being a Derby native, just smiled. ‘Is it true?’ ventured Hudson. ‘Is it another Reaper killing?’

Brook paused for a second. ‘It has all the hallmarks.’

‘Hope you don’t mind us taking a look, Inspector?’ added Grant, clearly hoping that he did.

‘Not at all. The more the merrier.’

‘They’re here at my request,’ put in Charlton as though Brook had somehow voiced an objection.

‘It’s a good idea, sir. A fresh perspective would be useful,’ said Brook, glancing at Noble’s pained expression.

With that, the party set off for the garden and Brook set about removing his latex gloves and coveralls. As he scrunched up his protective suit, he noticed Grant turn at the corner of the house and run her eye over Brook’s clothing.

Brook caught her eye and nodded. She smiled mechanically and continued after the others. Hudson and Grant had come to Derby to nail Brook for the murder of Tony Harvey-Ellis. Now a new Reaper killing put him even more squarely in the spotlight as far as they were concerned. He shrugged. He had nothing to hide … at least nothing that wasn’t already well hidden.

Sheriff Andy Dupree poured himself a black coffee and plucked a sugar-coated doughnut from the box next to his wide-brimmed hat. His Marine-crop haircut was severe and both Drexler and McQuarry realised this was the first time they had seen him without the hat.

Dupree took a small bite of the pastry and washed it down with a sip of coffee so strong it left a black slick along his upper lip. ‘What did he say when you told him about Ashwell?’

Drexler looked at McQuarry then at the table. ‘He said, “Dear me.’”

Dupree let out a laugh. ‘Dear me? Mr Sorenson, you just survived a visit with the Ghost Road Killers. And all he said was “Dear me”? These fucking Limeys, I gotta tell you.’ He shook his head and chuckled again. ‘He say why he didn’t come forward?’

‘He claims he didn’t know the Ashwells were dead.’

‘With all the media and shit. How’s he expect us to swallow that?’

‘He doesn’t have a TV, Andy.’

‘Well, there’s some weird shit right there.’ Dupree shook his head. ‘But he don’t deny being there?’

‘How could he?’ said McQuarry.

‘Or buying the knife and the coffee?’

‘The coffee was free but no, he didn’t deny anything about being there.’

‘So he coughed to murdering Ashwell and son.’

McQuarry raised an eyebrow and helped herself to coffee. ‘Damn, I forgot to ask him that.’

Dupree smiled. ‘And you think this Sorenson knew they killed the Baileys?’

‘We’re sure of it,’ said Drexler. ‘Why else would a rich and powerful man bother taking out those two lowlifes? He’s been flagging it up from the get go. He takes the rose petals to stuff into Billy’s pocket to tell us why the Ashwells have died. He writes some Wittgenstein on the cabin wall when he’s done, then starts quoting him at me almost before we’d said hello.’

‘Why the fuck would he do that?’ pondered Dupree. ‘We coulda looked at him for a while then moved on. Now he draws a lot more heat.’

‘Mike has a theory,’ said McQuarry with a hint of scepticism. Dupree turned to Drexler.

‘He wants the heat, Andy,’ nodded Drexler. ‘He wants the attention and for us to know he did it.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s some kind of Bored Rich Guy game. He kills Ashwell and his boy and is challenging us to prove it.’

‘More than that, Mike. He’s challenging us to care,’ said McQuarry.

‘And do we?’ asked Dupree. ‘Don’t give me that look, Ed. I’m serious! This Sorenson’s done the world a favour, far as I can see. Let’s give it a day then move on. Spend our time looking for some real bad guys.’

‘You’ve got a point, Andy. But there’s one thing I have to understand and it’s the reason we have to pursue this,’ said Drexler.

‘What’s that?’

‘Caleb Ashwell’s been bushwhacking folks on the Ghost Road for twenty years and not only did he not get caught, but no one actually knew that crimes were being committed.’

‘So?’

‘So how the hell did Sorenson know? How did he see what no one else has ever seen? How did he know to stop there? How did he know to pay cash? And how did he know not to drink the coffee?’

McQuarry and Dupree stared at the table. A few minutes of head-shaking later, they looked up at Drexler, who was waiting for his moment.

‘Okay, Mike.’ nodded Dupree. ‘Why don’t you tell us?’

‘There’s only one explanation, as far as I can see. This isn’t his first murder.’ Dupree and McQuarry considered the statement but neither could raise a counter. ‘Victor Sorenson is made of ice. He was looking for the Ghost Road Killer and because he knew Bailey’s route, he knew vaguely where to look. He’s a hunter. And a hunter knows how others hunt. That’s how he knew and that’s why we have to stop him.’

‘It’s bang out of order, sir,’ seethed Noble.