Luke Delaney - A Killing Mind

‘Could the DNA be from a punter?’ Sean asked.

‘Unlikely,’ Featherstone answered. ‘Looks like she was on her way to work when she was attacked. Judging by the contents of her handbag, she was careful.’

‘Condoms?’ Sean guessed. ‘Yeah,’ Featherstone confirmed, ‘and plenty of them. Also we found semen smeared on her abdomen that matches that found inside her, so everything points to it being the killer’s.’ Featherstone shook his head. ‘Strange thing to do – wipe himself off on her belly.’

‘He was marking her,’ Sean said before he could stop himself – drawing a concerned look from Featherstone. ‘Raping and killing her wasn’t enough,’ he tried to explain. ‘He wanted to mark her.’

‘Why?’ Featherstone asked.

‘That,’ Sean answered, ‘I don’t know yet.’ He turned his gaze back to the photographs, wishing he could be alone without being disturbed by Featherstone’s clumsy observations. His understanding of this killer was coming together faster than in any of his previous cases, as if the year-long gap since his last significant investigation had sharpened his instincts and senses. He needed this killer more than any of his team could possibly understand.

While his mind was engaged with the faceless killer who’d turned his fantasies into reality, using the helpless Tanya Richards as a conduit for his warped desire, Sean threw out a question to keep Featherstone occupied: ‘Was the same knife used on both victims?’

‘Hard to say,’ Featherstone admitted, inhaling deeply before continuing. ‘Neither victim was stabbed – slashed, but not stabbed. Makes it difficult to be certain. Maybe the post-mortem will help.’

Sean started flicking through the file with an increased sense of urgency. Something told him every second could be vital. ‘When was she killed?’

‘More bad news, I’m afraid,’ Featherstone answered. ‘Only ten days ago. This one’s not a once-a-year killer, Sean. He’s running hot.’

‘I didn’t hear anything,’ Sean told him. ‘Didn’t see anything on the news.’

‘A prostitute and heroin addict murdered in London,’ Featherstone explained with a shrug. ‘Not exactly front-page material. The first murder got a mention on the local news – nothing more. They’ll be all over it now though, that’s for bloody sure.’

‘But the fingernails and the teeth,’ Sean frowned, ‘that must have got the interest of the media?’

‘Ah.’ Featherstone cocked his head to one side. ‘Would have, only the MIT who picked up the Richards case had the good sense not to mention the fact she’d had her nails removed. They let on some of her teeth had been pulled out, but kept quiet about the nails.’

‘To eliminate nuisance callers claiming responsibility,’ Sean said.

‘Exactly,’ Featherstone confirmed. ‘Had we let it be known her nails were removed too, the better crime journalists out there might have started getting suspicious. The MIT reckoned they could explain the teeth away as a pissed-off pimp pulling out her gold teeth for their cash value.’

‘Sensible,’ Sean appreciated their thinking, ‘but why mention either?’

‘Trying to drum up some sympathy,’ Featherstone explained. ‘Not easy getting the media interested in a dead prostitute, or the general public for that matter. It was hoped that by making it clear she suffered, we could tug on a few more heartstrings – loosen a few lips.’

‘Doesn’t seem to have worked,’ Sean replied.

‘No,’ Featherstone admitted, sounding sad and worn out by yet another violent death few would care about.

Both men were silent for a while before Sean spoke again. ‘Unusual,’ he said. ‘Looks like it has to be the same killer, yet we have a male and a female victim. So, unless he’s bisexual, the motivation can’t be entirely sexual, despite the fact the female victim was raped.’

‘Dalton doesn’t seem to have been sexually assaulted in any way,’ Featherstone added, ‘but again, it’s too early to say for sure.’

‘So what’s his motivation?’ Sean directed the question at himself rather than Featherstone. ‘If killing is his motivation, then he’s a very dangerous and rare animal. A killer who kills because he likes it rather than to cover his tracks or out of panic – that’s about as bad as it gets.’

‘Rare like Sebastian Gibran?’ Featherstone asked, dragging a ghost from the past into the small, warm office. ‘Remember him?’

‘I’m not likely to forget him, am I?’ Sean sighed, memories of the most dangerous killer he’d ever dealt with swarming into his mind.

‘He was something else though, wasn’t he?’ Featherstone reminded them both. ‘Pure bloody evil, that one.’

‘Evil?’ Sean answered. ‘Not sure that exists. He was just wired differently.’

‘You mean wired wrongly?’ Featherstone checked.

Sean ignored the question. ‘He had everything anyone could ever want, but it wasn’t enough. Killing made him feel like he was some sort of god – that taking life was his entitlement.’

‘Do you think we could have another Sebastian Gibran here?’ Featherstone sounded concerned. ‘The last thing we need is another Gibran on the loose.’

‘I doubt it,’ Sean reassured him. ‘Gibran was … exceptional. A one-off. This one’s profile should be more straightforward. Gibran constantly changed his method so we wouldn’t make a link. This one has varied the sex of his victims, but he’s already showing a strong dedication to a particular method. And taking the teeth and fingernails – almost certainly souvenirs. Gibran only took memories.’ He glanced down at the files on his desk, the brutal crime scene photographs staring back at him. ‘All the same, we have a very dangerous individual on our hands.’ He drew a breath. ‘Ten days between the murders?’

‘That’s right,’ Featherstone confirmed.

‘Not good,’ Sean replied, shaking his head. He chewed his bottom lip, deep in thought for a few seconds before continuing. ‘Maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe he’ll slow down for a while – use his souvenirs to relive the killings – keep his urges at bay.’ The image of a faceless man touching, smelling, tasting the extracted teeth and fingernails flashed in his mind.

‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’

Sean shrugged.

‘Anyway,’ Featherstone tried to look on the bright side, ‘it’ll be good to have a proper Special Investigations case again. Can’t have been much fun, being loaned out to other MITs these last few months.’

‘Don’t forget Anti-Terrorist, Special Branch and anyone else who was short of manpower,’ Sean reminded him.

‘Indeed,’ Featherstone agreed. ‘Nothing Addis could do to stop that happening. Can’t justify detectives sitting on their backsides doing nothing, not in this day and age.’

‘No,’ Sean admitted. ‘I suppose not.’

‘Still,’ Featherstone perked up again. ‘Your unit’s back now – with a proper investigation.’

‘So it would appear,’ Sean said, but without any cheer, although inside he felt himself coming to life – adrenalin and ideas, memories and anticipation beginning to flow through his body, sparking the darkest areas of his being that had lain dormant for months. Dark areas that he knew were dangerous to him and everything he’d achieved in his life, just as he knew that the answers tended to lie hidden in that darkness. Answers that could help him catch a killer before he claimed more lives.

‘Speaking of investigations …’ Featherstone appeared to change tack, ‘you should know that this will be my last.’

Sean leaned back in his chair. ‘Oh,’ he managed to say. He liked and trusted Featherstone. With him gone, there would be no protective buffer between him and Addis. Worse still, Addis could put someone else in charge of overseeing Sean and his team. Addis’s own man or woman. His own gamekeeper. ‘How so?’