Steven Dunne - The Reaper

The light turned to Brook and brought him some relief for his nerves though his stomach wasn’t pleased to see the dog shit he’d fallen in.

‘Are you alright, Sergeant?’ Sorenson declined even to feign surprise at the sight of his opponent.

‘I will be when I get this stinking coat off,’ said Brook, taking the unexpected offer of Sorensons hand. Brook was yanked to his feet by a powerful arm. ‘Thanks. Who was that?’ he asked, tearing off his reeking coat, nodding at the exit.

‘That, I assume, is the new tenant,’ replied Sorenson.

Brook held his coat at arm’s length, between finger and thumb, his face puckered until he burst into the fresher air. Outside he shuddered at the sight and smell of his clothing and sucked in much needed oxygen, all the while eyeing Sorenson with a look of mild annoyance. ‘You certainly spooked him.’

‘Yes. I don’t think he heard me. He got a bit of a fright.’

‘I bet he did.’ Brook shot a glance at Sorensons suede shoes. There wasn’t a mark or a damp stain on them. The man’s agility was remarkable. He must also have fantastic night vision to walk in there without his torch on. ‘What are you doing here, Professor?’

‘I could ask you the same thing,’ he replied with an accusing smile but Brook wasn’t to be charmed off the subject and glowered at Sorenson. ‘Shall we visit the scene of the crime, Sergeant?’ Without waiting for an answer, Sorenson snapped the torch back on and marched back into the derelict flat. Brook made an instant decision to follow and leapt after him to make sure he got full value from the light.

When they reached the killing ground, Sorenson began to move his head around, looking, sensing.

‘It was here, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

He nodded. ‘I was moved by your story of the girl’s plight. I thought I might be able to help.’

‘Help? How?’ The undercurrent of Brook’s scorn was ignored.

‘With suggestions.’

‘Such as.’

‘I assume the Metropolitan Police are utilising the miracle of DNA fingerprinting, Sergeant?’

‘It’s becoming a useful tool, yes.’

‘So you know what it is.’

‘It’s the use of tissue samples to obtain a DNA profile of a person, a unique signature from the DNA molecule, which can be visualised like a bar code. And no two are the same.’

‘And did you know that you’ll eventually be able to get a profile, no matter how small or old the tissue sample is?’

‘This is pie in the sky at the moment, Professor. It’s only just operational.’

‘Sergeant, the first patent in the UK was only issued four years ago. Yes, this technique is in its infancy but it will become ever more sophisticated. Samples that seem too small or old to give up their DNA secrets today will be easy to test in five or ten years. Did you find samples of young Laura’s killer?’

‘There was a lot of semen. But it was old and compromised.’

‘It looks like he’s got away with it then…’ said Sorenson with a knowing smile, ‘…unless you kept the samples.’

‘The file’s still open,’ Brook replied, puzzled. Sorenson didn’t fit Brook’s identikit of a concerned citizen.

‘I’m glad to hear it. Murderers are going to have to be ultra careful in future. Why, even a hair follicle falling to the ground could be their undoing.’ Sorenson beamed, foronce without a trace of mockery. ‘Of course you’ll need an idea of who to profile to see if you’ve got a match.’

‘How do you know so much about it?’

‘Former contacts in the business. My father founded Sorenson Pharmaceuticals. I’m sure you know.’

Brook looked at him, uncertain how to proceed. ‘Why have you come here, Professor?’

‘Like I said. To help.’

‘And how will this help?’

‘Atmosphere, Sergeant Brook, never underestimate the power of atmosphere.’

‘Your brother Stefan was murdered during a break-in. Was it Sammy Elphick?’

Sorenson flinched for a second and Brook wasn’t sure his experiment had worked. He was pleased to get such a reaction from Sorenson, to know that he could be affected, but his move was at odds with the way the game was supposed to be played. This crude stab at his quarry’s underbelly might get Brook disqualified from the final round.

He needn’t have worried. The smile returned at once.

‘If you’ll excuse me, I have a number of things to take care of With that he set off back to the entrance, Brook at his heel to be sure not to get left in the dark.

Having ascended the slimy steps, Sorenson marched away. Brook watched him go. Suddenly he turned back, training the torch on Brook’s face. With a look at the skies, he said, ‘It looks like it could be a wild night tonight.’ With a smug smile, he added, ‘There’s going to be an electric storm and sparks are going to fly. Won’t that be something?’ Sorenson sniggered, looking very pleased withhimself. He turned and walked away to hail a cab on the main road.

Such self-congratulation was an unpleasant sight and reminded Brook of his purpose. ‘Catch you later,’ he heard himself calling at Sorensons retreating frame. The time was near.

Brook drained his coffee and dialled the hotel switchboard for an outside line. He felt good after his nap. He’d only been asleep for an hour so, perhaps, that wasn’t the reason. They say confession is good for the soul, which heartened Brook because his present upbeat mood might be evidence that he still had one. How might he feel if he’d told Jones everything? No. There were some subjects that couldn’t be broached-for her sake as much as his.

‘DS Noble, please. Inspector Brook. Yeah, I’m having a fine old time, Harry. Just connect me, will you?’ A moment later. ‘John. How goes it?’

‘Okay sir. We’ve found the van.’

‘About time. Where?’

‘Opposite Derby Station. Looks like he may have got a train out of town.’

‘Opposite? Then why the hell wasn’t it found days ago?’

‘It wasn’t on the road. It was on a private drive. Turns out the couple living there have just got back from a skiing holiday. They reported it as soon as they got through the door. We’ve got Forensics going over it now.’

‘Anything yet?’

‘No but there’s a fair bit of blood around.’

‘It won’t be our boy’s, you can be sure.’

‘We’ve got a footprint.’

‘What size?’

‘Eight. From some kind of sports shoe.’

‘That’s something. Get onto Midland Mainline…’

‘In hand, sir. Aktar’s reviewing all the CCTV but we’ll keep it for you to look at.’

‘Good. Anything else, John?’

‘Yeah. We got a call from the hospital. They’ve done more tests on what was in Jason’s blood. Apparently he was on something the night of the murder. Thought you’d want to know.’

‘We know he was on something. He had Ecstasy tablets on him.’

‘It wasn’t that.’

‘What then?’ Brook’s heart quickened as he listened. He nodded. ‘Keep the surveillance on him. We want to know where he is at all times. Anything else?’

‘Yeah. Jason’s shoes have got no blood on them and there are no footprints of his in the front room. He’s in the clear there.’

‘So it seems. What about his clothes?’

‘Forensics is still working on them.’

‘Okay. Just a thought, John. When you go house to house around the van, ask if any other cars were on that drive over the last week. Maybe he had another car waiting. In fact, while you’re on it, check the house. If the killer knew the residents were away for a while he might even have stayed there.’

Brook put the phone down. He looked at his watch. He had half an hour before meeting Wendy.

Five minutes later he was strolling down Queensdale Road, hands in pockets, fingering the delicate metal with his left hand. He withdrew his hand and inspected the necklace with its small hearts. Why had he brought it? It was in the past and he should have left it in the file in the cellar. His heart was sad for the girl but she was in a better place now. Perhaps he should just send the necklace back to the Maples family. There was little justification for keeping it. Her parents might be glad of it-assuming they were still alive.