Читать книгу Pretty Little Things: 2018’s most nail-biting serial killer thriller with an unbelievable twist - T.M.E. Walsh - Страница 13

CHAPTER 3

Sutton House, home to Chiltern & South Bucks LPA, where Madeleine and her team were based, was a dull-looking, grey-brick building built in the mid-seventies.

The official main HQ for Thames Valley Police was in Amersham and Madeleine was part of the Major Crime Unit, the Force CID, which was made up of a number of smaller teams based in the local policing areas (LPA).

Being based at Sutton House rather than in the bigger hub of a town or city, Madeleine sometimes felt she was a little restricted and not always fulfilling her potential. Most crimes she had dealt with included robberies, home invasions and violent crime on occasion, but murder was rare.

Suddenly finding herself involved in a high-profile murder and missing persons investigation that was already fairly complex, she was feeling the pressure of the enormity of it all.

She was heading up a large team of people, and she knew you were only as good as your last case, your last success, in the eyes of her superiors. She wanted to obtain justice for the families that had been left destroyed by the events unfolding around them, but the thought of screwing up frightened her more than she’d realised it would.

She had been offered a small office, almost cupboard-like, but she’d declined it, preferring to be in the thick of things.

Right now, she was in the deep end, and silently prayed she wouldn’t drown.

Charis was sitting with DC Farr at the far side of the large, open-plan room, packed tight with desks and equipment, with a large board at the front that had a photograph of each victim pinned to it, with various information that had been collected, including key points like the date and time they had last been seen.

Madeleine stared at each photograph in turn and, as she had done many times before, each time a new photograph had been added, silently promised them she’d find them and bring them home again.

Now, though, she would be bringing them back to their parents only for them to have to bury them.

The weight of this was heavy on her mind, on her soul.

The fact that she’d just been handed another photograph to pin to the expanding board of information made her feel ill.

She tried to pull herself together. To keep herself focused and try not to absorb too much of the sadness playing out in front of them.

Young life cut brutally short, with another innocent likely to end up the same way if she and her team couldn’t find her in time.

‘Bryony Keats,’ she said, pinning a 10 x 8 photograph to the board as everyone came together to huddle around the large table in the centre of the room.

All eyes were now on the photograph of a petite teen wearing a jumper bearing the logo of the school she attended. Chestnut-coloured hair framed a face of delicate features, and flowed around her shoulders. A pretty, ornate, metal hair clip held back a section of hair from her face, revealing wide, dark, expressive eyes looking directly at the camera.

Although her mouth was pulled into a smile, it didn’t reach her eyes. Something Madeleine was more than conscious of.

‘Bryony is seventeen years old and lives in the village of Bronze Mead, just on the outskirts of Kennington. She’s a sixth-form student at Kings Hill Secondary School.’ She paused as she sat down at the far end of the table.

She then took a moment to look at her team.

‘Bryony’s been missing since last Wednesday.’

A collective silence fell over those gathered at the table.

‘As you’re already aware,’ Madeleine said, ‘the bodies of four young girls were found on the Heath Edge wasteland late last night by a group of teenagers. It quickly became apparent that they were the bodies of the four missing teens, although official identification will take a little longer due to the state of each body.’

She breathed out heavily.

‘To have the families formally ID the girls is out of the question. That’s the advice we’re being given.’

‘What do we know about Bryony Keats?’ Charis said.

Madeleine looked to Alex.

‘Bryony seems to be the average teenager. Nothing really stands out as suspect or particularly different about her or her home life,’ he said, looking at the file from Mispers. He rubbed his grey beard as he read through his notes. ‘We’ve already been collecting information on her social media accounts, bank records . . .’

He looked up at Madeleine and shook his head.

‘Her mother logged into the account online and there’s been no activity since the day she went missing when she drew out £200.’

‘So, we know the name and location of the cashpoint – there’ll be CCTV footage we can use. Alex, can you make that a priority?’ Madeleine said.

‘Yes, Guv.’

‘Phone records too.’

He nodded. ‘On it.’

‘Why wasn’t Bryony reported missing sooner?’ Charis said.

‘Something we need to ask her mother, but it’s been noted that Bryony had threatened to leave before,’ Madeleine said. ‘She was definitely going somewhere. She took her rucksack and a change of clothes, deodorant, hairbrush, toothbrush.’

‘Given that, are we sure she isn’t just a runaway? She’d obviously planned to leave.’

‘I see your point,’ Madeleine said, ‘but she hasn’t been in contact with anyone. Her mobile is switched off, which is unusual in itself, and sadly, she fits the victim profile. We need a Family Liaison Officer over at her house ASAP and a search of her room. We need to seize any home PC, her laptop, any tablets, any other mobile phones.’

‘Do we know who the last person was to have contact with her?’

‘Her older brother texted her to ask if she was OK after an argument with their mother over her partner. Bryony stormed out.’

Madeleine wrote a few details down, before addressing the team.

‘All four of the girls were at surrounding schools. Caroline White and Juliet Edwards had part-time jobs in Kennington itself. We need to look again at all the victims’ social media, friends, boyfriends . . . What do they have in common? None of the girls knew each other, and nothing in their lives stands out as unusual, but what about Bryony Keats?

‘Pay close attention to social media. Just because we’ve found no connection between the girls in person doesn’t mean they didn’t interact, even in the smallest measure, via the internet. I know we’ve looked, but look again.

‘Similarly, with home life. Any problems at home or school? Check again. Something must connect these girls.’

‘All the victims were last seen before they went down country roads,’ Charis said. ‘I’ve already organised a check of nearby farms and any outhouses, stables.’

‘Good, and everyone who gave a statement when the girls were missing, I want re-interviewed.’ Madeleine looked further down the table at a few DCs. ‘HOLMES team,’ she said, ‘cross-reference everything.’

Madeleine set a few more tasks for people to do – more door-to-door, acquiring CCTV footage – before she began to wrap up the briefing.

‘Bryony’s been missing for four days now. Time is crucial.’

The room fell silent, each person more than aware what this could mean.

‘The more time that goes by since the last sighting of Bryony, the more we have to assume we’re looking for a body,’ Madeleine said, voicing what they were all thinking. ‘Given that we now have the bodies of four teenagers, we must assume that Bryony has been taken by the same person or persons, unless we have something concrete to suggest otherwise.

‘Bryony fits the victim profile; she’s in her mid to late teens, she lives in one of the surrounding villages where, as we know only too well, CCTV is limited along the country lanes. We do have one advantage, in that people who reside in small towns and villages tend to notice anything out of the ordinary. We need a fresh appeal for witnesses and I’ll be organising a press conference with the Chief Constable as soon as possible, but I can’t stress this enough: no one is to let slip anything to the media.’

Once the rest of the team dispersed, Madeleine called Charis and Alex into a small, stuffy interview room.

‘You guys are my eyes and ears more than anyone right now,’ she said, looking at each one of them in turn, making sure they understood how the pressure to get speedy results was weighing on her mind.

Alex’s dark-blue eyes looked sideways at Charis. ‘Guv,’ he said, his attention back on Madeleine. ‘Maddy . . . we have your back here. Everyone does.’

Madeleine smiled, but it was weak. Alex was in his early fifties and had a lot of experience, but he’d never wanted to progress to a higher rank. She’d always supposed it was because he didn’t want the axe to fall on his head should an investigation go wrong, as they’d all seen happen before.

Reality was, as Madeleine had come to realise, Alex wanted to remain a DC not through lack of ambition but because he wanted to help the families left destroyed by serious crime. The closer you got to the top, the less time you spent doing the groundwork.

The interaction with the families was key for him, Charis too.

It’s what kept them all focused.

‘No one wanted this investigation,’ Charis said. ‘Remember, you’re the one who stepped up when no one else would.’

Madeleine gave her a smile. ‘It’s my head if we get this wrong.’

‘We won’t,’ Alex said.

Madeleine blew out a long breath and shook her head. ‘Something about this whole case is off. It’s someone local, has to be. The locations, the timings . . . it all seems so random, desperate, like the killer has an insatiable need.’

Charis put her hand out and rested it on her shoulder. ‘We’ll find Bryony Keats alive, Guv. We will.’

Madeleine admired the optimism but the truth was, she knew in her heart that Bryony was almost certainly dead already.