DS Jessica Daniel series: Locked In/Vigilante/The Woman in Black - Books 1-3 (109 page)

Jessica tried to take her time to search the backgrounds of the images but there was nothing. Rowlands was around two-thirds through his pile of photos when he held one up.
‘Jess.’

He wouldn’t have usually called her by her first name out of the station in anything other than a social situation but Jessica wasn’t bothered and could tell from his tone he had
something. She stepped across to the bed and took the photo from him. The picture showed two people grinning and holding drinks up as if saluting at whoever had taken the photo. One of them was Ed
Marks, the other a young blonde woman with brown eyes.

Steven Povey sat in his garden staring at Detective Sergeant Jessica Daniel’s business card. He wanted to call her and ask for someone to come and watch him but the
consequences of having to tell his wife why the person was needed were something he couldn’t face. The police’s visit had largely been a surprise as he didn’t follow the news too
closely and wouldn’t have recognised the names of all the victims in any case. He had seen something about a hand that was found in Manchester but hadn’t realised it could have any
connection to him until the officer had said.

The incident on holiday was something he had done his best to forget. He’d not spoken about it to anyone since and, of the other five, only had contact with Barry after they arrived back
in the UK. Even that had only been because they lived so close to each other but Steven had soon moved away. He’d heard of Barry’s death in a car crash but had no strong feelings about
the man by that point.

After hearing about the possible fates of the other four people, Steven was certainly scared. He didn’t know if it was Sam who had been targeting the men who were in the room that day but
whoever it was certainly seemed to know what had gone on. He didn’t know of any further connection he had to the other five people so it must be related. From what Sergeant Daniel had said
all of the men involved were now dead so if it wasn’t Sam or someone like a husband or boyfriend, who else could it be?

The only crumb of comfort was that none of the other men’s families had apparently been targeted, meaning his wife and children should be safe.

Steven continued to stare at the business card trying to figure out if he was more frightened of the person who might be coming for him or of letting his wife down. The house had been given to
them as a wedding present by her father, who loomed heavily over their lives. He was a businessman who owned a string of health clubs throughout the country. To the surprise of his wife and
mother-in-law, Steven had been welcomed into the family with open arms.

His father-in-law had never taken to any of his daughter’s previous boyfriends but he liked Steven for whatever reason and the house had been an extravagant gift to show that. If Steven
were to tell his wife what happened all those years ago, it could wreck everything and, while his family seemed safe, he wanted to do all he could to avoid letting her know.

Steven pocketed the business card and stood up from the table, looking at his watch. The officers had left almost fifteen minutes ago and he had barely moved. He’d been mostly honest with
them but hadn’t given them one piece of information, thinking perhaps he could find a way to deal with things on his own.

He went to the computer in the hallway and switched it on, waiting for it to boot up then loading an Internet browser window. He had searched for the name a few times in the past, using search
engines and, more recently, social networking sites.

‘Samantha Weston’ was a name he had never forgotten.

He didn’t know what he might be able to do if he did track her down somehow but he thought it was a better option than giving the full details to the police and having everything come
out.

Steven first tried the social networking site where he had his own profile. As with the last time he had searched, there was no one who seemed to match the woman’s details. He didn’t
know where she came from but, with a name and general age, Steven had an idea of what he was looking for. The biggest problem was filtering out the male ‘Sam Weston’ matches from the
females but, even after doing that, he couldn’t find someone who seemed right. There were also far too many general matches through the search engines he tried and he realised the woman could
have either emigrated or got married – or both – which would affect his results too.

He tried numerous combinations of ‘Sam’, ‘Samantha’, ‘Weston’, ‘wedding’, ‘married’ and ‘marriage’, eventually finding a
couple of combinations of alternative names the woman could have. With that information, he then returned to the social network and did some new searches with the other name. After almost an hour
of trying, he settled upon a profile for ‘Sam Kellett’. The woman’s main picture was of her in a wedding dress. Because of her privacy settings, Steven couldn’t see much
information about her but he did manage to view the photo in a higher resolution. He wouldn’t have said it was an absolute likeness but it had been eleven years since Steven had seen the
woman and he thought there was definitely a similarity in appearance. Her hair was a lot darker in the wedding photos but anyone’s facial appearance would change slightly over time.

Without anyone else matching the age or likeness criteria, Steven figured this ‘Sam Kellett’ was the only possible candidate he was likely to find for the woman he had watched being
attacked all those years ago. He returned to his previous searches and looked for the wedding notice. It had been placed in a local newspaper in the Harrogate area just across the Yorkshire border
eighteen months ago and, from what it said, the woman’s husband was called ‘Colin’. It was probably an hour’s drive assuming they still lived in that neighbourhood but,
aside from the name and area, he didn’t have an exact address. Steven tried more Internet searches for ‘Kellett’ and ‘Harrogate’ but there was nothing that gave him
any more information.

Leaning back in the computer chair, Steven wondered what he should do. He could call Sergeant Daniel and tell her what he had found but, if things ended up in court, there was no way he could
keep everything from his wife.

The man spent the next twenty-four hours running through scenarios in his mind, wondering if there was some way he could reveal what he knew without tearing his family apart. Would his wife
understand he had said nothing during the attack because he was scared himself, or would she have a similar reaction to the officer? He wanted to take the risk of telling her but ultimately he felt
more scared of her reaction than he did of whoever might be targeting him.

With that, Steven continued to try to find Sam. He didn’t know for sure if what was happening was down to her – or what he’d do if he found her – but he wondered if he
might be able to reason with the woman. A voice at the back of his mind told him he deserved everything that was happening. As well as more Internet searches, Steven called directory enquiries,
asking for ‘Sam Kellett’, ‘Samantha Kellett’ and ‘Colin Kellett’, none of which returned any results.

Eventually, two days after the visit, Steven felt almost resigned to his fate. He didn’t know if someone might end up coming after him but he did start carrying around a pocket knife just
in case. His wife sensed something was wrong but he said things were fine. If he left the house, he tried to make sure he had someone else with him. He felt guilty at using his wife and children
almost as human shields but tried to blank those feelings out.

After the weekend, his wife went to work as usual and, with his children at school, Steven was alone in the house for the first time properly since the officers had visited. He often worked from
home anyway but was edgy about being on his own. He made sure the windows and doors were locked and tried to do his regular work.

Halfway through the morning the doorbell rang. Steven felt his heart rate rise but looked through the side window and saw the postman standing there. He signed for a parcel but, after taking it
inside, realised how jumpy everything was making him.

Not long after, the doorbell sounded again. Steven again checked through the side window. A short and fairly slight man in jeans and a T-shirt was waiting but, from where Steven was looking, he
had no idea who the person was. He moved around so he was on the other side of the door and shouted. ‘Who is it?’

‘Gas man, I’m here to check the meter.’

Steven hadn’t noticed a van outside his house but decided it wasn’t necessarily unusual as the person could have parked at the other end of the row of houses and then walked from one
to the next. ‘Have you got identification?’

The man pressed a badge up against the window to the side of the door. Steven stared at it, realising that, aside from a company logo, he had no idea what he was looking for. He still
couldn’t see the person’s face either. The identification had someone’s name on, as well as a company and a phone number. Steven thought about calling the number to check but
figured it was probably a little over the top. He unbolted the door and opened it inwards before stepping back. His hand hovered imperceptibly close to the knife in his pocket.

The visitor stepped into the house and looked up. There was a flicker of recognition between the men and Steven realised he’d made a horrible mistake. ‘You?’ he said.

‘Me.’

Steven tried to grab the knife from his pocket but the other man was quicker, reaching forward and pushing something into his neck. His last thought before his eyes closed and he slumped to the
floor was that the police officers who had visited him didn’t know how horribly wrong they were.

Jessica had worked through the weekend as best she could but the problem, as ever, was that most people in other organisations didn’t. She spoke to DCI Cole on Friday but
releasing the photo of the woman to the media in a ‘Who’s this?’ way was their last resort. The problem was that Jessica couldn’t think of another method to identify the
person. They had nothing except for a first name, only a vague idea that Sam was English and no clue where she came from, or if she would still be there eleven years on. Not only that but there was
something not quite right about the picture that Jessica couldn’t figure out. Jessica looked at it over and over, feeling there was something obvious she was missing but she couldn’t
see what it was.

She again tried the various travel companies but the people she spoke to repeated that they didn’t keep records that went back that far. With no crime reports and no other way to identify
who the person was, Jessica spoke to the chief inspector again on the Sunday morning and he agreed the picture of Sam could be released. The trouble was that they didn’t actually know if the
woman was responsible for everything that had been happening. She was the only suspect they had but it would be harsh to get her photo on news bulletins, potentially reminding the woman of
something terrible that had happened over a decade ago if it ended up having no relation to what was going on. If Jessica could have thought of any way of identifying the person without having to
do that, she would have done.

Rather reluctantly, the senior press officer came into the station on Sunday afternoon and worked with Jessica on something they could release to the media. The biggest problem was that it would
have to be run as nationally as possible. With local campaigns they both knew people they could lean on if they really needed a favour to get something published but it was far harder to do
something across the whole country.

The statement they ended with was a mixture of spiced-up language including a recap of the hands found. The comments relating to Sam were toned down and carefully worded to make it clear she
wasn’t a suspect. She might well be but they couldn’t have that broadcast. Instead, Sam was someone who ‘might hold key information’. Jessica knew it was the type of nothing
phrase the police always came out with but, in this instance, it was as good as they could manage. They hoped the recap of the juicy details regarding the hands might persuade the newspapers to
print something, while the television news may have a brief segment with Sam’s photo. Everything was also put on the police’s own website and the press officer put out alerts across
their social network accounts. It was about as much as they could do and Jessica hoped they received phone calls so they could find out who Sam was and, with luck, figure out exactly what had been
going on.

On the Monday, there was something on the television news. One of the two main news channels ignored their story but the other gave them the briefest of ten-second slots where they flashed
Sam’s photo and a phone number for the public to call if they knew who it was. It wasn’t the best result but there was some information on a few news outlets’ websites and Jessica
knew it was now a waiting game to see if any useful suggestions came in.

The day didn’t produce too much but the news story gradually received more attention as it went on. Jessica didn’t hurry into the station on Tuesday, partly because she had put the
hours in over the weekend but also because there wasn’t a whole lot she could do. The calls were being taken by the national Crimestoppers service, with any names suggested being fed back for
her team to go over. She had already left Rowlands and Diamond instructions.

As she arrived, Jessica instantly knew something was going on because of the lack of marked police cars in the car park. Usually there would be a couple of rows of vehicles but there were just
two. She walked into the reception area, asking the desk sergeant what was going on.

‘They’ve found a body.’

‘Of who?’ Jessica’s first thought was that one of the handless victims had been discovered but she wasn’t prepared for the actual response.

‘They think it’s Christine Johnson.’

‘You’re joking?’

‘Nope. It’s been mad in here all morning. Some tip-off had everyone dashing out; even the DCI’s gone and someone said the super was on his way too.’

‘Where?’