Follow Me (31 page)

Tibbsy was clutching Freddie to him, stroking her blood-soaked hair, rocking. ‘Don’t you give up on me now, Venters. Don’t.’ His voice cracked.

‘Jesus Christ.’ Moast gently pulled on Nasreen’s arm as the paramedics pushed past. ‘Come away.’

12:30

Friday 27 November

Account Terminated

Superintendent Gray and DCI Moast insisted Nasreen take some time off to recover. The decision was forced upon her. Jamie’s face was plastered across every front page. Every website.
Cop On Case Unmasked As Hashtag Murderer.
Everywhere she looked she saw photos of him being dragged, cuffed, into Moast’s car. The ambulance just behind it. She couldn’t escape the memory of Freddie: bloodied, crushed.

Nasreen had aimlessly wandered round her house during the last two weeks, looking at photos of her and Freddie when they were kids. Birthday parties, their faces smeared with icing, fingers orange from Wotsits. Trips to the zoo with Mr Venton when he was sober. The week Freddie had spent with Nasreen and her family in a wind-buffeted caravan in Cornwall, Freddie and Nasreen streaking far ahead of her younger sisters on a twilit beach. Running into the setting sun. What had started as a few glasses of red wine to help Nasreen sleep at night had soon turned into a bottle. The call from the station was a lifeline. She’d washed her hair, got dressed, left the house. Tibbsy was waiting in the foyer of the Jubilee police station. His hands in his pockets. Shirtsleeves rolled up. Rocking on his feet. ‘You’re the welcome party then?’ she said.

‘I guess.’ He managed a brief smile. He looked like he’d been sleeping as well as she had.

‘Let’s get this over with.’ She strode past him. Her heels sounded reassuringly familiar clicking on the floor. Back in her suit she felt stronger. Together.

‘The guv wants a word first. To brief you.’ Tibbsy walked alongside her. Ahead of them in the corridor, PC Boulson stopped, his smile dropping from his face; he stood aside to let her pass. His head bowed in reverence. She couldn’t deal with
this
. Eyes peered out of offices as they walked. ‘You’re a bit of a hero. After what happened.’ Tibbsy nodded at the two constables who were watching them from either side of the vending machine. ‘You took down the Hashtag Murderer. Cracked the whole case wide open.’

‘It was just a lucky break.’ She tasted the bitter irony on her tongue.

Tibbsy opened the door of Moast’s office for her.

‘Ah, Cudmore. You’re here.’ DCI Moast stood up from behind his desk and ran his hand over his hair. The last time she’d seen him, those hands were pulling her away.

‘I’ll be outside if you need me, guv.’ Tibbsy held up his palm to say goodbye. She smiled at him. He looked at the floor and closed the door.

‘I’m sorry we’ve had to get you back in so early,’ Moast said. They stood awkwardly either side of the desk.

‘It’s fine. I’d rather be busy,’ she said.

‘Well, that aside, I appreciate you doing this. I know it can’t be easy.’ Moast frowned.

‘Has Jamie said anything, sir? Explained why he did it?’

‘Just that he’ll only talk to you. I’m afraid that when we searched his apartment we found several photos of you, Cudmore. And a number of personal items.’ Moast passed her a pile of images.

Nasreen felt her chest constrict. ‘That’s me at the gym. And leaving Claire’s house. Christ. I never saw him.’

‘Well it seems he was very adept at following, hiding…’

‘Tracking,’ she said, looking at the photos. That was her hair tie. A scarf she’d lost last year. She’d never suspected Jamie was collecting these things. Turning her into an exhibit.

‘Yes,’ said Moast. ‘We found the spare phone he used to post as Sophie when he was impersonating her online. The IP address is local to Leighton Buzzard because he was there. Watching her.’

Poor Sophie, she was at the heart of this case. ‘How the hell did he pull all this off?’

‘It seems he’s been at it for years. We’ve had the forensic psychiatrist in. They spent three hours with him. He would talk about everything but the case.’ Moast sighed. ‘They say he scores highly on the psychopath spectrum. Overly developed capability for deceit, ingratiation, cool-headed, imitation. Apparently it was no surprise he fooled us.’

Nasreen sat down on the chair. She’d thought about this over and over in the last fortnight. If she hadn’t have seen Jamie with her own eyes, seen him strike, then she might never have believed it.

‘They call it the mask of sanity. That’s what the doc said. She recommended a book on it if you want?’ Moast said.

‘What do you need me to do, sir?’ she asked.

‘We spoke to Sophie’s – to Imogen’s – old classmates. We’ve built up a pretty clear picture. Jamie, or James as he was back then, was controlling, abusive, both psychologically and physically. She never went to the police.’ Moast moved the papers on his desk with the tips of his fingers. He’d clearly been working on nothing else since the night at Freddie’s.

‘Too scared,’ Nas said. ‘Too ground down.’ She’d seen it before with domestic abuse cases. The victim too frightened to talk. Sophie had done well to get away. To start a new life. Albeit a brief one.

‘Yes,’ Moast nodded. ‘That’s all alleged from her friends, years ago, no actual witnesses so we can’t use it. But it gives us an insight. We found the same brand of supermarket bleach used at the crime scenes, key cutting equipment, the same plastic ties used to restrain Grape, and a knife matching the description of that featured in the Mardling photo on Twitter at his flat. He’d soaked the knife in bleach and put it through the dishwasher. The DNA sample is corrupted.’

‘Thorough. Meticulous. Fits with the MO.’ Nasreen shuddered. She’d chatted with Jamie. Sat next to him in the car. Hugged him goodbye at the end of the day. Thought of him as a friend. He’d driven her to Freddie’s house. He knew exactly where she lived. ‘He was the one who found the link between Mardling, Sophie and Mark Hamlin. Was it a set-up?’ she asked. Jamie had manipulated the case from the inside and they’d never suspected a thing.

‘Most likely. We still haven’t been able to trace Hamlin. We found two smartphones on him, one was an Android and running Tor; this software that encrypted his Internet activity. He was able to post messages while he was here at the station and we had no way of telling. We also recovered a laptop at his flat. Digital forensics are trying to crack into it now. We’ll get him. But a confession would help. The doctor reckoned he might talk to you. Want to impress you, like. You up to it?’

Nasreen thought about Freddie. She nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Good. The doc said the trick is to always treat him like he’s smarter.’

Nasreen thought of all the deception, all the technology, the way they’d all been looking in the wrong direction. ‘He is,’ she said.

Nasreen eyed Jamie opposite her. His uniform buttons shone. She knew his shoes did too. ‘I’m glad you came, Nasreen. I wanted to see you again,’ he said. He was still manipulating them all. She tried to keep her face impassive. ‘Not frightened are you?’ Jamie asked. ‘I always admired your bravery.’ She steadied her hands on the desk. The blinds were pulled down. The only light a strip above them. ‘I admired your intelligence too.’ His watery eyes narrowed conspiratorially. ‘Unlike these other idiots,’ he whispered.

‘I came, Jamie. So let’s talk,’ she said. The tape machine hummed gently. Moast was just outside. ‘Can you tell me about you and Sophie, or Imogen as you knew her?’

Jamie raised an eyebrow. ‘Okay. Imogen would have liked you. You were very similar. She was pure: like you. Mired by those around her.’

‘I spoke to Melanie Cole.’ Saliva pooled in her mouth. She kept swallowing.

‘That parasite,’ said Jamie. ‘She wanted to take Imogen away from me.’

‘Melanie said you hurt Imogen. Hit her.’

‘Imogen was so pure, so innocent. When I found her she knew nothing. She’d been locked away in that old house with her aunt. The only things she knew of real life were from the telly they watched: Poirot, Miss Marple, Sherlock Holmes. Her batty aunt watched them every day. Imogen knew them word for word. Thought the world was populated by 1930s toffs. I had to help her, but sometimes she could be difficult. Like a naughty child. You’d discipline a child for their own good, wouldn’t you? I was like a father to Imogen. I only hit her when I had to.’

Nasreen thought of the Baker Street clue he’d tweeted, the ‘game is on’ reference. ‘Is that why you did the clues, Jamie? Because of the shows Imogen used to watch?’

He dipped his chin forward and looked at her. His face looked different. The wide-eyed simpering Jamie was gone. This was someone else. His eyes burned bright blue. Stone cold. He drummed his fingers lightly on the table. ‘You are a clever girl, Nasreen. All those old murder mysteries, that’s what we talked about when Imogen and I met. It seemed fitting. To make her the star of the mystery. Once I’d decided, I couldn’t let her stay out there in the real world. Not after she’d run away from me. After everything I’d done for her. I’d made her special. She was mine. She couldn’t just leave. There was a debt to be paid.’ He paused, his voice even, unfeeling, as if he were discussing a supermarket shopping list. ‘She liked Poirot best. Do you remember The ABC Murders?’

He’d killed her because he couldn’t have her. Because she ran away. Because he thought she was his property.
Nasreen tried to think if she’d seen the television show. ‘I’m not sure, Jamie, why don’t you tell me?’

‘Well the very clever murderer in The ABC Murders tricks everyone into thinking there’s a serial killer on the loose, bumping victims off in alphabetical order. A distraction. From the intended victim. Of course that story’s just make-believe. What I did was much harder.’ Jamie’s fingers were still drumming rhythmically.

Nasreen felt her blood run cold. ‘A distraction? From the real motive?’ His fingers drummed. ‘You wanted to kill Sophie, but you knew that if it was just her then we might uncover her true identity…start tracing things back…maybe reach you? So Mardling, Grape, all this about the Hashtag Murderer was a diversion?’

‘It was masterful,’ he said. ‘I fooled everyone. The police. The media. The whole of the Internet. I had you all in the palm of my hand.’

‘Why the Internet, Jamie? Why Twitter? Was it because you and Imogen met in that computer class? I’ve seen DCI Moast’s notes. We know you applied to university. Brighton and others. For a Computer Science degree. They didn’t let you in?’

‘Imbeciles.’ He smashed his hand down on the desk. Nasreen’s heart was racing. Moast and Tibbsy were right outside. One shout and they’d be in here.

‘They were so stupid, they couldn’t see real genius when it was right in front of them. Idiots obsessed with their pitiful little academic exam results. Well, I showed them. They couldn’t just discard me. Couldn’t put me in a little box marked reject. I was the best coder. I built a programme to remote tweet from my Mac. I stood right next to you all in the police station and pressed send, and you had no idea. I’m a master of Tor. I’m untraceable. I can orientate objects in C++ with my eyes closed. Parallel processing, I’m fucking amazing. An IPv6 guru. I am the Hashtag Murderer. I am Apollyon. I had fans – those teen girls in Wales? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. That’s influence. That’s power. I put those petty-minded fools in their little boxes. Their little pigeonholes. Their little stereotypes. I made you all dance. I made you all follow me.’

Nasreen’s breath was quick. ‘Is that why you picked Dr Grape, because he was an academic, Jamie? One of those who hadn’t seen your real potential?’

‘He was a stupid fool. Patronising Apollyon. The most feared person online. He deserved to die,’ Jamie said. ‘A pedant. I screwed him up and stuffed him into his pigeonhole.’

‘And what about Mardling? Was he stupid too?’ She had to keep him talking. Keep him boasting.

His lip curled. ‘That cretin. He disgusted me. He came in all high and mighty when Mark Hamlin kicked off in his bank.’
So Jamie had taken the police report. Jamie was the link between Mardling and Hamlin.
‘I looked into him. All that filth he was spewing out. You don’t talk to women like that. He was scum. I did the world a favour. Pest control,’ he said. ‘One less troll. They played their parts perfectly.’ Jamie looked at her hand. It was shaking. He smiled. She pulled it away. Under the table. Into her lap.

‘And what about the cat, Jamie? Sophie Phillips’ online account, her cat posts – was that all part of the plan?’

Jamie was still smiling. ‘Now I’ll admit I did underestimate you on that one, Nasreen. You saw straight away there was no cat. I should have left the phone I used for her posts there. That was the plan. But I was upset. She was so beautiful. Poor Imogen. If only she’d behaved herself.’

‘I remembered that when you drove us to Sophie Phillips’ flat, the day her body was found, you took a back route. Avoided all the traffic.’ Why had she not questioned it at the time? Why would Jamie know the back route to the victim’s home? If only she’d spotted it, she could have stopped this sooner.

‘Very handy of her to move so close,’ Jamie smiled. ‘Just a quick zip up the M1, and then along the A roads. I did it in under thirty minutes once; funny how no one will pull over a police car for speeding. It took me no time at all to get there and back.’

‘And you weren’t worried someone would notice the police car?’ Nasreen tried not to look away. She felt stripped. Naked. As if Jamie could see her very thoughts before they formed.

‘I’m not an idiot, Nasreen. I kept a van up there for when I got close.’

Nasreen dug her fingernails into her palm. ‘It was a nice touch with the coins – mimicking Mark Hamlin. I guess that was you too?’

‘Thank you.’ His eyes looked warm, heartfelt. Nasreen felt sick. ‘It’s all in the details. I spent some time with Mark – not much you understand, that flat was fetid – but enough.’

‘Where is Mark, Jamie?’ She kept her voice even.

‘Regent’s Canal. Surprised he hasn’t bobbed back up yet.’ He looked bored. ‘After his whole hissy fit when he was arrested we couldn’t really work together anymore.’

‘So you’re the reason he was screaming when he was arrested? He saw you, didn’t he – on the stairs up to his flat?’ She remembered Hamlin’s frantic desperation to escape.

‘He wasn’t very robust,’ Jamie sighed. ‘I’d been looking for someone I could work with, and when I met Mark after that complaint was filed against him, it was like a gift from God.’