The Infirmary (DCI Ryan Mysteries prequel)(66)

Not much longer.

“You’ll all be aware by now that we have a man in custody,” he said, which drew a few claps and cheers from the back row. He waited for the spontaneous outburst to die before crushing their hopes. “I very much doubt he’s the man we’re looking for.”

He watched their shoulders droop and was sorry for it.

“Our killer made a strategic move today,” he said. “He planted a set of Nicola Cassidy’s house keys in another man’s office to incriminate him. We can hypothesise that he did it in reaction to Draycott giving an interview to the press which may or may not have been instrumental in them coining the nickname, ‘The Hacker’. It could also have been done out of professional rivalry, or simply as a means of deflecting attention away from himself. Whatever the reason, Draycott has a partial alibi for the time Nicola Cassidy is supposed to have been taken on the evening of Sunday 6th, so we have to look elsewhere.”

He turned to Faulkner, who was leaning against one of the walls in the packed-out room.

“Tom? Can you give us a quick summary of where we are with forensics?”

Faulkner shuffled forward, his face bearing the evidence of many sleepless nights.

“Um, okay. You already know we have trace DNA from the first two crime scenes but, without any record on the database, it’s just data. We can’t compel a DNA swab from people without some kind of material link to the crime but, since Draycott was arrested, we’ve been able to take a swab from him to compare with the samples we already have on file. Hopefully, that will eliminate him from the enquiry—or not, as the case may be.”

Faulkner scratched his ear, battling tiredness to hold onto his train of thought.

“Before, we couldn’t go into the hospital and demand DNA samples without some sort of justification but now that there’s enough of a link between the victims and the Emergency Medicine Department—especially after those keys were found—we can start processing voluntary swabs.”

“And note down anyone who refuses to provide one,” Philips chimed in.

“Exactly,” Faulkner said, then turned to Ryan. “We’ll get through the samples as quickly as we can, but it would be helpful to narrow the field a bit.”

“I’ll come on to that,” Ryan told him. “How about the fibres at Nicola Cassidy’s house? Did you find a match?”

“We couldn’t isolate any DNA from the sample, but I can tell you the fibres were a blend of black polyester and cotton. It’s the kind of thing you’d find in a core-spun, canvas yarn.”

“Used in jackets?” Lowerson queried.

“This particular sample was quite thick,” Faulkner said. “It’s more likely you’d find it in a rucksack.”

Ryan thought back to the scene at Nicola Cassidy’s home, stepping through the motions in his mind’s eye.

“So, he wore a backpack containing his tools and it brushed against the doorframe as he was moving her into the bedroom,” he surmised.

“Who have we seen wearing a backpack like that?” MacKenzie asked, following the trail of breadcrumbs.

“Almost all of them,” Phillips replied, turning to face her. To his everlasting shame, he found himself reddening again.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

It was starting to become an occupational hazard.

“Frank’s right, unfortunately,” Ryan said, providing a timely distraction. “Several of them carry backpacks because they cycle or walk into work. But once we narrow down that field, we can take samples from each of them and compare the fibres.”

Faulkner tugged at his lower lip, thinking of the next point he needed to make.

“We tested the semen we found on Cassidy’s sofa but, as I thought, it’s ancient and we couldn’t get a decent DNA profile. The fluid we found in the hallway belonged to Nicola, too.”

Ryan chalked that up.

“Okay. Did you have any luck with the tape?”

“Yes, it’s definitely surgical tape,” Faulkner confirmed. “My team have compared its make-up with three of the best-known brands used by hospitals and I think we can be fairly certain it’s Elastikon, by Johnson & Johnson. Comes in a three-metre roll you can fit in your pocket; easy enough to carry about.”

“Not big enough to be noticed, if a roll went missing,” Ryan said. “And I’m betting you could buy it over the counter at any high street pharmacy, if you wanted to.”

Faulkner agreed.

“Yes, the tape’s a bit of a dead end, I’m afraid. No handy prints or fluids found on it either, other than Nicola’s own.”

“Okay, thanks, Tom. I appreciate the work your team’s put in to get us this far. We’ll start taking DNA samples first thing tomorrow morning and courier them across to your lab.”

Faulkner thought about how they would possibly process them all, then simply resigned himself to another few days without sleep. Looking at Ryan, he could see that the man was expecting no more of him than he expected of himself.

“We’ll be ready,” he said.

“Mac? Lowerson? Any further leads from the hospital pharmacist or Will Cooper?”

“We’re fairly confident Cooper’s given us everything he has,” MacKenzie said. “He blames himself for Sharon’s death because he thought it was linked to the drugs ring he managed to get mixed up in. This is just the start of his worries,” she said. “But he’s got some family left who still care and he’s done the right thing, albeit later than anyone would have liked.”