Luke Delaney - A Killing Mind

Vaughan sighed in resignation. ‘Very well. Fair enough, but no airbrushing us out of what’s been done.’

‘Of course,’ Sean readily agreed, ‘but I need the forensic team to stop whatever they’re doing and prepare their exhibits for transfer.’

‘You want them to stop?’ Vaughan questioned his wisdom.

‘Like I said,’ Sean reminded him, ‘I have access to things you don’t – including a specialist forensics team who know exactly what I expect from them.’

‘If you insist,’ Vaughan agreed, unconvinced.

‘And I’ll need all the paperwork you have so far. Door-to-doors, witnesses spoken to. Anything you’ve generated – in order and filed properly, so I can find what I’m looking for.’

‘It will be,’ Vaughan assured him.

Sean moved on. ‘I understand the body’s been removed to the morgue at Guy’s?’

‘It has.’

‘Good,’ he said, knowing that it would fall under the care of his most trusted pathologist – Dr Simon Canning.

‘Your forensic team on their way?’ Vaughan asked.

‘No,’ Sean told him. ‘They’re briefed and preparing, but no point starting now. Better to start afresh in the morning, when your people have packed up and gone. Just make sure everything’s secure till then.’

‘Very well,’ Vaughan answered, but Sean had already started to drift away – looking out across the streets and the park close to the garage where William Dalton came to his violent end.

Vaughan noticed it. ‘You want to take a closer look at the scene?’

Sean looked at the houses and flats around the scene – full of light and life – children awake, meals being prepared, people walking home across the park, the smell of heavy traffic thick in the freezing air, its sound a constant hum in the background. It wasn’t right. ‘No,’ he told Vaughan. ‘This isn’t how it was.’

‘Excuse me,’ Vaughan asked, confused.

‘Nothing,’ Sean realized he’d been speaking out loud. ‘I’ll send a couple of my people over to your office tomorrow to pick up whatever you have.’

‘It’ll be ready,’ Vaughan assured him.

‘Good,’ Sean told him and turned to leave. ‘I need to be somewhere.’

‘One thing,’ Vaughan stopped him.

‘Which is?’

‘If you ever decide you’ve had enough of the SIU, give me a call, will you,’ Vaughan told him. ‘I wouldn’t mind that job myself some day.’

‘I’ll keep it in mind,’ Sean replied before heading off back to his car, fully aware that Vaughan wouldn’t be the only one who’d like his job and that Addis wouldn’t hesitate to replace him if he ever looked like he’d lost his special edge.

Anna Ravenni-Ceron entered the private members’ club in St James’s Park, close to New Scotland Yard, and was led to a large dark dining room where Assistant Commissioner Robert Addis sat in full uniform looking as trim and tidy as ever – his peaked cap and brown leather gloves perched on the edge of the table next to him. He sipped water from a crystal glass as he read from an open file he held expertly in one hand.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ the hostess murmured discreetly, making him look up. ‘Your guest has arrived.’

‘Anna,’ he smiled, but remained seated and made no effort to shake her hand. ‘Please, have a seat.’

‘Thank you,’ Anna told the hostess as she seated herself on the straight-backed chair that had been pulled out for her. Slim and elegant with a head of unruly wavy black hair caught and tamed into a mass of swirls and ringlets, her dark brown eyes stared from a pretty oval face, studying Addis as he waited until the hostess had left before speaking again.

‘I’m glad you could make it on such short notice,’ he told her. ‘You’ll understand this isn’t the sort of thing I’d want to discuss over the phone.’

‘So you said.’

‘Being the head of the Specialist Crime Operations can make one somewhat … cautious.’

‘No doubt,’ she agreed, before realizing she was being more assertive and questioning than she’d been with Addis in the past. If she didn’t play the game better he would pick up on the subtle change and become suspicious. He might even deny her access to the investigation and with it her chance to help or protect Sean. ‘Face-to-face is preferable,’ she lied.

‘Good,’ Addis relaxed somewhat. ‘Good.’

‘Is this the new case?’ she asked, her eyes indicating the file in his hand.

‘Yes,’ Addis told her, closing the file as if she’d somehow spied on its contents. ‘Have you heard anything?’

‘Only what you’ve told me,’ she lied again. ‘Two young adult victims. No apparent links between them. DI Corrigan and the SIU will be investigating … Which makes me wonder what you want from me.’

Addis handed her the file, which she accepted. ‘Same as always, Anna.’

‘I see,’ she said, trying to hide her disappointment. ‘You want me to look like I’m helping profile the killer, but really you want me to keep an eye on DI Corrigan and report back to you?’

‘No,’ Addis smiled condescendingly. ‘I want you to assist in profiling the type of person we’re looking for – not merely look as if you are.’

‘I understand,’ she replied, a hint of frustration in her voice, ‘but you also want me to observe DI Corrigan? Correct?’

‘You make it sound as if I’m asking you to spy on him,’ Addis said without a hint of irony.

‘Aren’t you?’ Anna asked.

Addis leaned back in his chair and watched her for a long few seconds before answering. ‘We’ve discussed this before, Anna. DI Corrigan is an asset not just to the Special Investigations Unit, but the Specialist Crimes Operations. Indeed, he’s an asset to the Metropolitan Police Service. He has a rare and special talent, which is why I have personally seen to it that he became day-to-day leader of the SIU. But these cases are by their very nature high profile, constantly under the glare of the media spotlight. I can’t allow serious mistakes to be made during such investigations. I need to see any such mistakes coming before they actually happen.’

‘But Sean— DI Corrigan is an outstanding detective and investigator,’ she reminded him. ‘Yet I can’t help but feel you’re expecting him to make a mistake, sooner rather than later.’

‘I’m not talking about him missing or overlooking some vital piece of evidence,’ he explained. ‘He’s as thorough as he is instinctive and imaginative – as I’m sure you’re aware. It’s almost as if he can think like the very people he’s trying to find and stop.’ He let his words hang in front of her, the silence pressurizing her to say something.

‘He’s simply able to combine years of experience with an excellent and active imagination,’ she tried to argue. ‘Nothing more than that. It’s a trait I’ve seen in other detectives.’

‘Yes,’ Addis agreed, but his eyes had narrowed to slits and his voice lowered to a hush. ‘But with Corrigan it’s much more than an active imagination. I leave you psychiatrists to decide its precise nature, but what I do know is that in order to make whatever it is work, he needs to tread a very thin line. He needs to be very close to the edge.’ He paused to take a sip of water. ‘Perhaps it’s only a matter of time before he falls from one of those edges.’

‘Then move him from the SIU,’ she told him, though she knew Sean would be furious if he found out she’d suggested as much to Addis. Much as she valued their friendship, if she had to sacrifice it to protect him, she would. ‘Before he puts himself in harm’s way again. It’s within your power.’

‘I can’t do that,’ he replied. ‘As I’ve said, Corrigan is an asset. A valuable asset. Police officers are paid to make sacrifices – to take risks. They just need to be controlled – which is why we are having this conversation.’