Michael Morley - Viper

In Jack's mind there was no such thing as a routine shooting. Every killing had its own peculiarities – the signature marks of the murderer. He walked across the boards to the tent and came out at the driver's side of the car. The vehicle's metalwork had already been dusted with fingerprint powder. 'Pietro, can you talk me through what went on here?'

'Sure. The boyfriend was in the driver's seat when he was shot. We know this from the blood and angle of the bullet. The girl, she was in the back and -'

'Why?'

'Scusi?'

'Why was the boyfriend in the front while she was in the back?'

Pietro smiled. 'He was naked except for his socks. She – she was naked too. So I think he had been in the back, kneeling or sitting. It is possible that they heard or saw something that frightened them, so he got in the driver's seat and drove off.'

'Towards the pit?'

'We think so.'

'So he drove towards where the other woman was killed?'

'Si.'

Jack puzzled it out. The couple must have been killed after the woman in the pit. Perhaps they heard her scream and thought they could help. Poor kids. They obviously hadn't recognized the true nature of what was happening or they'd have driven in the opposite direction. Unless, of course, it had been so dark that they hadn't really known in which direction they were travelling. Or, so close that they'd had to drive this way to be able to turn the vehicle around.

Pietro seemed to read his thoughts. 'They were parked not far from here. If you look where I'm pointing, there are tyre marks over there. Seems they skidded when they tried to turn round and ended up here.'

'And we think here is where they were shot?'

'Si.'

'Angle of gunfire?'

Pietro made a pistol out of two fingers and crouched at window level. 'About this height. Scusi…' he shuffled Jack to one side, 'and about from here.'

Jack's mind turned to the killer. He would have been in the pit with the burning girl. After she screamed, he would have shot her. Then no doubt he heard the car start up and thought he was going to be discovered. He'd have rushed out of the pit, seen the headlights of the vehicle, then moved in to wipe out any witnesses. Jack pointed to the pit. 'At the edge – the one nearest to where we are now – you may find finger indentations, trace evidence, footprints, marks from the front of the killer's footwear. There'll be elbow marks on the clay banking – all that evidence could have been left as he climbed out in a hurry.'

'We know,' said Pietro. 'We are not the FBI, but these things we know to look for.'

'Sorry,' said Jack. 'I was just thinking out loud.' Both bodies had just been removed from the scene. He'd want to see the photographs later. Hopefully they'd been stripped of the few remaining clothes before being bagged. The reason was simple. Inside the zipped bag, they would bleed through their wounds as soon as they were moved. By the time they got to the morgue, any clothes left on them would be soaked in blood. Any fibre, skin or hair evidence left by the offender would be lost in the blood flow.

'The dead teenagers. There's no way you're looking at them for the murder in the pit?' Jack couldn't see how, but he wanted to check anyway.

'No, we are not thinking so. The families are decent families. It looks like the boy and the girl they were just out having some fun.'

'May I look inside?'

Pietro spoke to a technician who was squatting in a tiny protected space in the vehicle, and he climbed out. Jack asked for gloves. He snapped them on and was careful not to brush against anything as he leaned inside.

The vehicle stank of blood, forensic swabs and a new pine air freshener that was still hanging from the cigarette lighter beneath the plastic dashboard. 'The girl was in the back, her head on the right side, behind the passenger seat?'

'Si, that is right.'

Jack ran sequences through his head. He shoots the boyfriend, blowing out the window, then opens the door and leans into the vehicle. The girl's frightened so she moves as far away as she can from him. It's a two-door, so there's no exit from the back. He has to have got his face inside to see her, maybe even talk to her. Then he shoots her. 'Have Ballistics already been all over the vehicle?'

Pietro nodded. 'Been and gone. That's what you say, yes?'

Jack smiled. 'Yep, that's what we say. There'll be gunshot residue all over this car. Massive amounts of it. And, of course, all over our killer's hand and clothing.'

'They have taken the GSR tests.'

'Good. You find the cartridges?'

'Two.'

'I guess one was outside, near the back of the front tyre, that would be the first shot. The other, the second – well, the second one would be inside, in the footwell beneath the driver's seat?'

Pietro looked surprised. 'How did you know?'

'All handguns – well, at least, all the handguns I've ever heard of – eject cartridges only to the right. So given where the bodies were, the discovery sites are pretty obvious.'

Pietro made a mental note to remember this.

Jack's head was once more inside the car. His mind was back at the moment of the murders. 'Our shooter will have pushed the dead boyfriend out of the way and the girl would have been screaming or pleading for her life. If the girl screamed, then he probably shot her immediately. If she pleaded for her life, then he would have dragged it out. Enjoyed it more. A man who likes to see women burn to death doesn't like to kill quickly, unless he has to. So, let's guess that he tried to calm her down. He would have made her believe she could live – he'd have liked that – then he'd have killed her.'

'Ritardato! '

Jack ignored the obscenity. He slowly reversed out of the vehicle, sucking in fresh air to clear his lungs and his head. He'd have tried to calm her down. The thought stuck to him like hot tar.

'Shall we go down to the other scene now?' asked Pietro.

Made her believe she could live, then killed her. 'I think our killer may have made a critical mistake. Right here. And it may tell us exactly who he is.'

Pietro frowned. 'Where?'

Jack leaned into the car again. 'He'll have been very careful when he shoved the boy out of the way, anxious not to snag a cuff or leave fibres. The victims' bodies will be clean of any trace of him. But I bet he's missed something.'

'What?'

'Somewhere here.' Jack pointed around the back of the driver's seat and the window area. 'This is where you'll find it. Test all around here. The fabric of the roof lining, the plastic back of the seat, even the inside of the window, and you'll find it.'

Pietro was still confused. 'What? What will we find?'

'DNA,' said Jack. 'That old Gene Jeanie might just do his magic for us. Our killer will have spoken to the girl. Maybe even shouted at her to control her. When you speak, even though you can't see it, you spray saliva. Not huge amounts, just a small mist, invisible to the naked eye. But it'll be there. A microscopic dot will be there.' Jack pointed closely to the metal frame of the car door and window. 'Good scientists will find DNA, replicate it, and they'll get this guy's genetic fingerprint. And you never know, our boy just might have a criminal record to match it to.'

As Jack finished his sentence he realized it was a long shot. Many serial killers didn't have previous convictions. But if they did find DNA, at least it was a beginning, something to build on. A match waiting to be made.

Jack hung back while Pietro thanked the technician and passed on orders for the DNA testing. There was another thought that he kept to himself. One too alarming to share.

The killer had been disturbed.

He'd been forced to abandon his fire – and abandon his prize.

That meant he was dissatisfied.

Tense. Angry. Pent-up.