Pulse (A Kate Redman Mystery Page 13

  And his partner? He wouldn’t have been the first serial killer to have worked in a team. What was he like, this partner of Pound? And where was he?

  As if Anderton had read her mind, he asked casually, “So where can we find him, your partner, Robert?”

  Pound grinned. He seemed quite relaxed, almost as if he were enjoying himself. Probably he was; knowing something that the police didn’t know was a power trip, a rush of exhilaration. “I can show you.”

  “We’d be so grateful.” Anderton’s tone was almost unctuous. He walked closer to Pound but didn’t touch him. Instead he gestured towards the exit to the churchyard. “Let’s take a little car trip and see if we can find him for you.”

  As they walked slowly back through the gravestones, Pound in the lead, Anderton behind him and Kate behind him, she found herself feeling a slowly rising sense of anxiety, something that was beyond the bizarre and horrible confession that Pound had just made. Something was wrong; something had gone wrong and she couldn’t think what it was. Kate found herself biting her lip as she watched her feet walk through the dewy grass, picking her way through the worn gravestones. What had gone wrong?

  They were in the car, the uniformed officer driving, Kate sat beside him with Pound and Anderton in the back, when it occurred to her what the matter was. She only stopped herself from flinching with a mammoth effort. Oh, God…

  Anderton hadn’t cautioned Pound. He hadn’t read him his rights. He hadn’t reminded the man that what he was about to say could be used as evidence in a court of law. Had he just forgotten? An officer as experienced as Anderton? Was that possible? Kate, in an agony of indecision, didn’t know whether to try and catch Anderton’s eye in the rear view mirror or ask for the car to be stopped so they could talk privately or even, in one mad moment, think about cautioning Pound right here and now. She dismissed that panicky thought a moment later. Even if she did, it was now essentially too late. Nothing that Pound had told them could be used as evidence. His confession, such as it had been, was now worthless.

  Kate found she was clenching her fists, her fingernails digging into the palms of her sweating hands. She forced herself to relax, uncurling finger by finger and staring unseeing out of the window. How could Anderton have forgotten to caution him? Had he not done it on purpose? But for what purpose?

  It’s too late now anyway, so just keep quiet. Kate found that she was actually feeling physically nauseous. She unwound the passenger seat window an inch, just to get some clean, cold outside air on her face. Then she caught Anderton’s eye in the rear view mirror and felt heat mount into her cheeks. Anderton looked at her with an absolutely expressionless face. For an odd moment, there was as little animation in his face and in his gaze, as there was in the man sat next to him, the killer, the dangerous one. Kate, shaken, broke her gaze and looked down at her lap, realising she was clenching her fists again.

  After ten minutes, Pound spoke up.

  “Forty-one, Audley Street.”

  “That’s where we’re heading, is it?” Anderton asked, his tone mild. “Got that, officer?”

  The officer driving the car nodded without comment and adjusted the instructions on the sat nav. Kate, unable to bear it a moment longer, pulled out her mobile phone and texted Anderton. You didn’t caution him!!! was all she wrote and then sent it, her fingers trembling.

  She had her phone set to silent and after a minute, felt the buzz of Anderton’s reply. He must have very discreetly been able to send a text out of sight of Pound. Kate opened it, her heart thumping.

  I know, was all he had written.

  Kate read it disbelievingly for a moment and then put her phone away. She stared out of the window at the familiar streets of Abbeyford flashing by, her heart thumping.

  The car drove on, filled with silence.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  What had he been expecting? That he and Joshua would fall straight into each other’s arms? Perhaps he had been expecting that – dreading it but wanting it at the same time? Olbeck wondered as he followed Joshua’s back down the narrow corridor of the house. It was a dimly lit house, the walls painted dark, sombre colours; dark grey, purple, dark green. Gloomy, Olbeck thought as he walked through it, and a little of the nervous desire he’d been feeling ebbed away.

  At the back of the house was a kitchen, very messy, with a good many dirty plates and dishes scattered over the surfaces. It didn’t smell particularly nice, either. The blinds were down at the window at the back, over the sink.

  Joshua leant against the table, folding his arms across his chest. He looked both smug and nervous. He also looked extremely good looking, despite the harsh radiance of the strip light on the ceiling above him. Olbeck felt a welcome pull in his groin.

  This is wrong. What I’m doing is wrong. He could hear his conscience telling him that but he disregarded it, pushing it aside. The silence stretched out and, for a moment, Olbeck was about to take the leap, walk forward and kiss Joshua, cross that final barrier once and for all.

  He was poised to do it when Joshua spoke. “Didn’t expect to see you here again so soon.”

  The boy – man, Olbeck reminded himself – was smiling as he said it but there was a flicker of a tone in his voice that he couldn’t quite understand. “I just wanted to see you,” he said and immediately cursed himself for sounding weak.

  Joshua continued to eye him, his arms remaining across his chest. Almost defensive behaviour, Olbeck thought and felt a little chill. Was Joshua afraid of him? Why would he be?

  Olbeck stepped back a little, trying to appear non-threatening. This encounter wasn’t going as Olbeck had expected. What had he expected?

  Joshua seemed to relax a little. The expression on his face looked as though he’d been questioning himself internally and had now made up his mind. “Want a drink?”

  “Yes. That would be great.” Olbeck hadn’t thought to bring any wine. Joshua kept staring at him for a moment, almost uncomfortably so, and then seemed to shake himself back to reality.

  “Go on through to the front room,” he said, pushing himself away from the table. “I’ll bring it through.”

  “Okay.” Olbeck made his way back to the first room that he’d glimpsed as he’d walked past it earlier. It was obviously the living room but there was nothing much in it. A huge flat screen television and a large black leather sofa, the walls painted dark grey, even the ceiling. Again, the smell in here wasn’t too good. Olbeck wasn’t squeamish but that faint musty tang of something rotting in the air didn’t do much for arousal. He hadn’t realised Joshua was such a slob. For a moment, Olbeck thought of his own house, his own clean, warm, nicely decorated house. Then he thought of his husband, who probably even now was beginning to get anxious about where he was.

  Guilt hit him again and he crouched forward where he was sitting on the edge of the sofa, the leather creaking softly beneath him. Olbeck put his face in his hands. What was he doing? Was he really going to have sex with this young man, this slobby, rather strange boy? Was he really that desperate? What was he thinking?

  It was as if a sudden stream of cool, clear water was flowing through him, washing away the heat and confusion of a moment ago. Olbeck got off the sofa, determined to leave. He was going home. He was going home to apologise to Jeff, put his arms around him and tell him that he loved him.

  The door opened and Joshua walked in, carrying a glass. Olbeck blinked at the sight of it. It was large; a goblet of black glass, the rim of the bowl was encrusted with black glitter. Liquid shimmered within it.

  “Sorry I was so long,” said Joshua. He sounded a little strange, as if his throat was beginning to close up. “Here’s your drink.”

  “Thanks,” said Olbeck, feeling guilty again because he was going to hurt this boy’s feelings. “But I’ve – I’ve changed my mind.”

  Joshua looked blank. “What?”

  “I�
��m sorry,” said Olbeck. “But coming here – I’m sorry. It was a mistake.”

  A strange expression crossed Joshua’s face. He said nothing but instead stepped backwards, reaching his free hand out to close the door behind him.

  “I’m sorry,” said Olbeck again. “But I have to go.”

  “No. Don’t go.” Now he could hear something in Joshua’s voice; desperation. Pity stilled Olbeck’s footsteps. Joshua smiled a smile that was more a grimace. “At least stay for a drink.”

  Olbeck hesitated. But one drink wouldn’t hurt, would it? He ignored the little voice inside him that was almost shouting for him to just go, get out of here, go home and put an end to all this nonsense. It was only a drink, wasn’t it? Where was the harm in that?

  He was putting the glass to his lips, ready to swallow, when something happened. Olbeck saw something behind Joshua’s eyes, a flicker of something that wasn’t quite human. His copper’s senses stood up and screamed at him. It was as if, for a single moment, something demonic peered out from Joshua’s human eyes. Olbeck felt his stomach clench and he brought his hand back down.

  “I don’t think I will, actually,” he said.

  The mask slipped further and that was when Olbeck began to be afraid. “You must,” said Joshua, and his tone was not pleasant.

  “I’m leaving now,” was all that Olbeck said before there was the tremendous crash of the front door hitting the floor and the shouts of warning as a river of police officers, some armed, poured into the house. Joshua Garton disappeared under a flood of uniforms while Olbeck stood there, open-mouthed with shock and still holding the glass goblet. For a few moments, the house itself seemed to rock with the maelstrom of it all. Flashing lights from the squad cars outside died the air blue.

  “Ah Mark,” said Anderton, striding in and seemingly unperturbed to see his DI standing in the middle of the room in deep shock. “Let me relieve you of that.” Gently, he took the glass from Olbeck with a gloved hand. Then he turned around and shouted over the noise. “Kate! Somebody needs you.”

  Olbeck was shaking by now. He felt Kate’s arms go about him and draw him down onto the floor. He was aware that he felt thankful that she was there but most of him was beyond feeling anything but a deep and paralysing numbness. He could do nothing but curl up in her arms and on her lap, as if he were a small child, hiding his face from a dark and confusing world.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It was a beautiful autumn day,the next morning, bright and sunny with a fresh breeze. All of which was not currently being enjoyed by the officers of the Abbeyford CID team, as they gathered in the incident room to listen to Anderton. Unusually for him, he wasn’t pacing. Instead, he leant back against a table, bracing himself with both hands behind him. Steadying himself, thought Kate, as she watched him and felt a sharp pang of sadness.

  Anderton looked older and greyer than he ever had before, but his voice was as firm and decisive as ever. “Now, as you know, we have our two prime suspects in custody and charged with the murders of Joseph Vickers, Keith Farmer and Rhys Neal.” Kate’s gaze went to the whiteboards behind Anderton, to the photographs of the victims. All of them, even Joe, looked young. Young lives cut short by two evil men… Kate found herself wondering how many more victims there would have been. She knew there would have been more.

  Anderton continued. “It appears that our two suspects met through the dark web. We’ve got IT going through the sites that we’ve been able to ascertain, so I’m hopeful that we might be able to get some crucial evidence there.”

  Theo raised a hand. “When did it start? The two of them, I mean.”

  Anderton didn’t respond immediately. Instead he said, “Before we go into that, I’d like to thank Kate personally for tracking down who we believe Robert Pound’s first victim was.” He heaved himself off the table and reached behind him for another photograph, this one an older one. A body on the frosted ground, small and helpless, arms crossed across the narrow chest. Anderton walked over to the whiteboards and attached the photograph. He tapped it. “Jay Lightner. Nineteen years old. He was in care at the council home that Pound used to work at. He was also experimenting with drugs, deeply unhappy and vulnerable. From the look of it, Pound lured him into the graveyard where he was found, gave him heroin and, when he was dead, posed him as you can see.” He fell silent for a moment and added “From what Pound has told me, the blood drinking came later.”

  Kate found her face twisting itself in disgust. She hurriedly untwisted it and asked “So Pound is talking, then?”

  “He’s singing like a canary. Some of them do. It’s almost as if they want recognition for what they’ve done. Almost as if it’s a game they’ve won.”

  Kate understood. She thought, with a shudder, how many times she’d been in the same room as Joshua Garton. Had she had a shudder of disquiet? She examined her feelings and decided that no, she hadn’t. She hadn’t seen. The only thing that had perturbed her about the man was the fact that she thought Olbeck had been attracted to him.

  Olbeck had been attracted to him. Poor Mark. She thought with compassion of Olbeck, now on sick leave and in Jeff’s loving care. Perhaps this shock would do what counselling couldn’t do – bring the two of them back together again, stronger than before. Kate knew that her friendship with Olbeck would take time to repair but she was confident that it would heal. She felt altogether lighter, freed from her secrets and with no more lies to tell. Self-respect, that was what it was, wasn’t it? If only it hadn’t taken her this long to realise that. Kate sighed inwardly and then turned her attention back to what Anderton was saying.

  “As to when it started, I believe Pound and Garton met a couple of years ago, online and then in person.” Anderton wandered back to the table and leant against it once more. It was strange not seeing him pace up and down, thought Kate and felt her stomach tighten once more with anxiety.

  Theo grimaced. “I can just imagine the forum. Freaks are us.”

  “You could say that,” said Anderton. “Pound has a blood drinking fetish. Garton – he’s an out and out necrophiliac. No wonder he was studying pathology.”

  Kate felt her face twist up again. She tried, unsuccessfully, not to think about what Garton would have got up to at the morgue. She spared a compassionate thought for the other doctors at the pathology labs: Kirsten, Andrew and Ivor Gatkiss. The press would be besieging them by now, begging for exclusives and asking them if they’d had any inkling they were working alongside a killer. Kate winced at the thought.

  Anderton was still talking. “Pound moved here to Abbeyford in the spring. I believe Garton obtained his placement down here a few months later. Apparently, they planned the first death for some time.”

  Chloe screwed up her face. “No doubt they got off on all the anticipation. Ugh, can you imagine being quite that disordered?”

  “I’d rather not,” said Anderton. “But you’re right. Anyway, Pound found Joe Vickers at a party. Again, Joe was drunk, high, vulnerable. An easy target. Pound lured him into the graveyard at the back of the house where the party took place and killed him. Then Garton joined him for his piece of the prize.” Anderton closed his eyes momentarily. “Not a pleasant thought but we won’t dwell on that.”

  It was almost impossible not to dwell on the thought. Kate made a monumental effort to bleach her brain of the images conjured up. Rav said, with a twist to his mouth. “How come the PMs didn’t pick up any signs of – you know, what he was doing to them?”

  Anderton sighed. “I don’t know, Rav. For all we know at the moment, he never actually touched them. Perhaps he just liked to look. I suppose we’ll find out more later, God forbid.”

  Kate wanted the subject changed. She raised her hand. “The pace of the killing was escalating, wasn’t it? So by nabbing Pound when we did, we probably prevented another death.”

  Anderton nodded. “The evidence suggests that. You gu
ys know as well as I do that sometimes these killers become frantic – and then they get caught. Luckily we got to them before that happened.”

  There were few smiles at this. The stakes had been too high for merriment. Kate’s gaze again went to the young men’s photographs pinned up on the whiteboard. Their young faces. She hoped their last moments hadn’t been filled with fear and pain. Could it have been like that? It wasn’t very likely but the alternative was so awful she preferred to believe in the unlikely scenario. Perhaps that was cowardly of her, but she was the one who had to live with the knowledge. A strange but apt saying came to her. Sunlight is the best disinfectant. How true that was, for this case and for her life.

  She raised her head and caught Anderton’s eye. The warmth in his gaze, the total and utter knowledge and understanding, caused a flood of feeling through her, so much so that she flinched. She saw, then, how he had got Robert Pound to open up to him, had forged that connection that meant the man had trusted him.

  Anderton held her gaze for a moment longer, smiling. Then the smile dropped and the gaze was broken. He cleared his throat. “There’s something very serious I need to discuss with you all.” For a moment, his voice broke and he cleared it again. Anxiety rippled around the room. “As you know, Robert Pound confessed to the killings and to the fact that he had an accomplice.”

  He stopped speaking and started again, with difficulty. “The problem is that for the reason that I’m about to give you, he wasn’t cautioned before he did this, or indeed afterwards.”

  There was an audible gasp from Chloe. Kate instinctively closed her eyes, just for a moment. Theo began to speak and then stuttered into silence.