I See You(91)

Slowly, Kelly looked up. The blind rage that had consumed Diggers seemed to have blown itself out, and he looked less terrifying than when he had first started. Even so, Kelly’s voice shook, and she swallowed hard in an attempt to get herself under control.

‘I wanted to find out if there had been any developments on my sister’s case.’

Diggers shook his head. ‘I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that what you’ve done represents a serious disciplinary offence. Quite apart from the criminal implications of breaching the Data Protection Act in this way, abusing your position as a police officer for personal gain is a sackable offence.’

‘I know that, sir.’

‘Then why on earth …?’ Diggers spread his hands wide, his face registering total incomprehension. When he spoke again, it was softer. ‘Have there been any developments in your sister’s case?’

‘Sort of. Only not the kind I expected, sir.’ Kelly swallowed again, wishing the hard lump in her throat would go away. ‘My sister … she’s withdrawn support for the prosecution. She’s left explicit instructions that she doesn’t want to be kept informed of any developments, and has no wish to know if the offender is ever arrested.’

‘I take it this was news to you?’

Kelly nodded.

There was a long pause before Diggers spoke again.

‘I think I know the answer to this already, but I have to ask: is there any professional reason for you making such a request to another force?’

‘I asked her to,’ Nick said. Kelly turned to look at him, trying to conceal her shock.

‘You asked Kelly to contact Durham about a historical rape involving her sister?’

‘Yes.’

Diggers stared at Nick. Kelly thought she saw amusement in his eyes, but his mouth was set hard and she decided she was imagining it. ‘Would you care to explain why?’

‘Operation FURNISS has proved to be more wide-ranging than first anticipated, sir. The Maidstone rape indicated that offences aren’t confined to within the M25, and although the adverts only started in September the full extent of the crimes aren’t yet clear. We’ve so far struggled for leads on the principal offender and I thought it would be a good idea to take a broader look at rapes with a history of stalking. I thought it possible the pattern might have been repeated in other cities.’

‘Over a decade ago?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Diggers took off his glasses. He eyed Nick thoughtfully, then looked at Kelly. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this in the first place?’

‘I – I’m not sure, sir.’

‘I take it you haven’t found a link between Operation FURNISS and Durham?’ The question was directed at Kelly, but it was Nick who answered.

‘I’ve ruled it out,’ he said, without any of Kelly’s hesitation.

‘I thought as much.’ Diggers looked from Kelly to Nick and back again. Kelly held her breath. ‘Might I suggest we consider the background research into similar crimes complete?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Get back to work, the pair of you.’

They were in the doorway when Diggers called to Kelly. ‘One more thing …’

‘Sir?’

‘Offenders, coppers, witnesses, victims … there’s one common thread running through them all, Kelly, and it’s that no two people are the same. Every victim deals differently with what’s happened to them; some are hell-bent on revenge, others want justice, some are looking for closure, and some’ – he looked her straight in the eye – ‘some just want to move on.’

Kelly thought of Lexi, and of Cathy Tanning’s desire to start over, in a house to which no one but her had the keys. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Don’t get hung up on the victims who want a different outcome to the one we want. It doesn’t make them wrong. Focus that drive of yours – your not inconsiderable talent – on the case as a whole. Somewhere out there is a serial offender responsible for the rapes, murders and stalking of dozens of women. Find him.’





People get caught when they get careless.

You won’t find my name in the digital trail leading to findtheone.com – I’ve only ever used other people’s names, borrowed from wallets and coat pockets.

James Stanford, who had no idea he had a mailbox on Old Gloucester Road, or a credit card with which he was paying for adverts placed in the London Gazette. Mai Suo Li, the Chinese student who was happy to hand over his British bank account in exchange for enough cash for his flight home.

Other people’s names. Never mine.

The receipt, though. That was careless.

A door code, scribbled thoughtlessly on the nearest scrap of paper, never a consideration given to the fact that it could mean the end of everything. When I think of it now – when I think of the carelessness – it fills me with rage. So stupid. Without that receipt everything was perfect. Untraceable.

It isn’t over, though. When you’re cornered, there’s only one thing to do.

Go down fighting.





30


By lunchtime the dining table is clear again and the house has regained some semblance of order. I sit at the table and work my way through Graham’s accounts, finding the methodical process of logging taxi fares and lunches strangely relaxing. My phone beeps with a message from PC Swift, returning the text I sent her earlier.