Locked In (29 page)

The call was patched through to the DCI’s phone but he allowed Jessica to take the call. ‘Is that James?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, sorry who’s this? No one’s told me anything here.’

‘James, this is Detective Sergeant Jessica Daniel. I’ve been working on the case regarding your mother’s murder.

‘Oh right,’ the voice said sullenly, then quickly: ‘No one’s hurt my Dad have they?’

‘No, your father’s fine but I have to ask you about something that happened a few years ago.’

‘Erm, okay...’

‘Does the name Nigel Collins mean anything to you?’ There was silence. ‘James?’

‘No,’ he said.

‘James, this is very serious. Look, we can come back to Nigel another time but I need to ask you about your friend Scott. What was his last name?’

The voice was quavering at the other end of the line. ‘Scott? Oh God...’

Jessica spoke quickly, her heart racing. ‘James, listen. I’m sorry but you have to be calm, okay? Do you remember what Scott’s last name was?’

‘Oh God. Harris. It was Scott Harris. Am I... Am I in trouble?’

Jessica handed the phone over to the DCI who would explain to James that nothing had been decided but he may want to get a lawyer just in case. Reopening the old file was a decision that hadn’t been made yet. The detective bounded back down the stairs two-at-a-time and charged through to the main floor where everyone was working. ‘It’s Harris,’ she shouted. ‘Forget Hesketh, find Harris.’

They knew the place he used to live was now owned by a family whose name was Keegan, so finding out where they worked was crucial too. The officer who had knocked on the door had been left outside the property in case anyone returned.

Jessica suddenly had a thought and went to stand behind the nearby DC Rowlands, who was working on a computer. ‘Did someone check the birth, death and marriage details for those names and addresses we had?’

‘Yeah, we got the birth certificates for all three of them.’

‘What about the marriage records?’

‘Er no, why?’

‘Just check to see if there’s any record of a Harris getting married in the past six or seven years.’ DC Rowlands put the search into the computer and a list of a few hundred names came up. ‘Now see if any of those Harris’ married a Keegan.’

The constable tapped a few more buttons on the keyboard which left them just one name. He used the mouse to double click and bring up the full record but Jessica already knew which address it would throw up.

They’d had a police officer standing outside it for the past two hours.

Once they knew the Keegans were the family they were looking for, things moved quickly. Whether he was called Scott Harris or Scott Keegan, the son wasn’t an instant priority. No decision had been made about reopening the Nigel Collins case but, given everything they knew, his parents could well be in danger and getting them to safety was the first thing that had to be done. Jessica spoke to the officer at the scene to tell him to try the front door on the off-chance it was open, then to check around the back and to have a look through the windows if possible to see if anything was visible.

Through the online phone book they discovered mobile phone numbers for both Mary Keegan nee Harris and Paul Keegan. As she was being driven in a marked car to the house, Jessica tried both numbers. Mary’s rang out with no answer but Paul Keegan answered to silent relief from the detective.

It was now mid-afternoon and Mr Keegan told her he was at work in the council offices. Jessica didn’t explain much but simply asked if he could return home to meet them. His instant question of course, was: ‘Is everyone all right?’

Jessica had no idea how to answer and didn’t want to lie by giving a definitive “yes” so simply said, ‘We hope so.’ It was a horrible way to reply and Jessica knew the poor guy would be frantic on his way home but there wasn’t much else she could say. At best she would apologise in person if everyone was safe and well.

At worst…

The Keegans’ house was once again in the same Gorton area as the first three victims. All four properties were within a mile’s radius of each other. The journey wasn’t too far from the station but Jessica kept trying Mary Keegan’s phone on redial over and over. Every single time it rang out. The car arrived and parked up on the road outside the Keegans’ house behind the first police car. The officer who had been sent earlier was waiting for them.

‘Any luck?’ Jessica asked, wondering if he had been able either to get in or at the very least see something.

‘No. All locked up, curtains pulled. Noticed a few neighbours taking an interest but nothing.’ Jessica went to walk past him but his next throwaway line sent a chill down her spine. ‘I’ve just been hearing a phone ring inside non-stop for last ten minutes or so.’

‘Shit.’

A third marked car pulled in behind them which would be bringing DI Cole and more uniformed officers. Jessica eyed up the property. It was much the same as Yvonne Christensen’s, a standard semi-detached house with strong imposing double-glazed doors and windows. The front garden was immaculate, with a small fountain and pond and lush trimmed grass surrounding it. The Keegans were obviously very house-proud. Even the surrounding hedges were cut neatly, in stark contrast to some of the other properties on the street. Jessica walked down the path to the house and opened the letterbox. There were thick black bristles on the inside obstructing any view she might have of the inside. She used her fingers to try to push them aside but could see nothing. She next went to the bay window to the right of the front door and used her hands to shield her eyes from the glare to peer through but a thick net curtain meant she could see nothing of note.

She pulled out her mobile phone once more to call Mary Keegan. Within a moment of hearing a ring at her end she could hear a muffled ringtone coming from the inside of the house. She leant with her forehead on the cool glass of the window and hung up.

She knew what they were going to find inside.

Jessica heard a vehicle screeching from somewhere nearby and moments later a large silver car pulled up in front of all three police cars. She saw a man quickly get out from the driver’s side and run down the pathway towards her. ‘Mr Keegan?’ she said.

‘Yes, yes. What’s wrong?’

Jessica ignored the immediate question. ‘Do you have your house keys with you?’

The man was wearing black suit trousers and a white shirt with a blue criss-cross pattern. He was somewhere in his fifties and a few inches taller than Jessica, unshaven with carefully combed dark hair that was greying around his ears. He put his right hand in his trouser pocket and pulled out a key ring. ‘Yeah, here. What’s going on?’

‘Do you mind if I borrow them for a moment?’

The man handed them to her and repeated, ‘What’s happening?’

Jessica said nothing but nodded to DI Cole and the waiting officers at the end of the path. DI Cole walked down to stand by Mr Keegan while Jessica pulled a pair of thin blue rubber gloves out of her pocket that she had picked up on her way out of the station. She put the key in the front door’s lock and turned it.

‘Mrs Keegan?’ she called out as she entered with two uniformed officers following behind her. There was no answer.

The door opened directly into what looked like a living room area with a set of stairs immediately on her left. The room itself was spotlessly tidy with a short beige carpet covering most of the space. On her immediate right was a small table with a neat pile of mail on it, while at the other end of the room was a door. Jessica motioned for the two officers to go towards the door while she went upstairs.

The stairs were made of wood and each one creaked as she stepped on them. It was just one flight to the top, which opened out on to hallway decorated with the same beige carpet as the ground floor. She had three doors to choose from, two on her right and one straight ahead. She opened the door in front of her that led into a bathroom. As with the rest of the house, everything was immaculate, the white bath and shower cabinet gleaming as sunlight came through a small window. There was nothing else to see.

The next door opened into a bedroom. Posters of footballers and girls in bikinis were on the walls but the bunk beds directly across from the door were made in pristine fashion, with the corners tucked and the blue duvets perfectly central. There were a few action figures on cabinets and dressers around the room but otherwise it was as tidy as the other rooms. Jessica wondered if this was Scott’s room. Is this where he came back to after torturing Nigel Collins? She pulled the door shut again, the bottom of the wood rubbing on the carpet as she heard one of the policemen’s voices from downstairs. ‘Clear here.’

One more door and she would be able to say the same. Jessica rested her hand on the final handle, held her breath and closed her eyes. She pulled the handle down and pushed the door open, again forcing it against the bristle of the carpet. She breathed out and opened her eyes. ‘No…’

On the bed was a woman’s body face-down. Aside from the room’s colours the scene was almost identical to what Jessica had witnessed at Claire Hogan’s flat. Instead of a sprawl of bleach-blonde hair discoloured by dark blood spread across the bed sheets, Jessica could see long dark brown hair splayed out in a similar way. The yellow curtains were pulled and the room was dim but Jessica could see the matching double bed linen was stained by blood.

Jessica didn’t need to see anymore; four dead bodies were enough. She turned around and pulled the gloves off her hands, walking down the stairs back to the front door. The other two officers were standing in the living room area, both looking at her.

‘Don’t go up,’ she said, before adding, ‘Someone call the Scene of Crime team.’

Jessica took it upon herself to tell Paul Keegan there was a dead body upstairs on their bed, likely his wife. She spoke slowly and gently but the man just stared at her with his mouth open.

In any other circumstance his response “Are you sure?” would have been ridiculous. In this one it was heartbreaking. Jessica could tell from the tone of his voice that he loved his wife enormously. Some people would have wanted to run past her inside the house, race up the stairs and see for themselves. Paul Keegan didn’t move from the spot he was standing in on his front lawn. Jessica saw tears in his eyes and reached out to put an arm on his shoulder, before fully embracing him and letting the man cry on her shoulder.

After a few moments, he pulled away and tried to straighten his shirt. He wiped his eyes but the tears hadn’t really stopped. ‘Was it him?’ he asked

‘Who?’

‘Houdini.’

Back at the station things had been moving quickly. Jessica hadn’t given Paul Keegan a yes or a no answer. For one, although it seemed likely, they weren’t absolutely certain and for two they now knew Houdini was most likely Nigel Collins.

Paul Keegan hadn’t wanted to go into the house but had agreed to an identification at the scene. It seemed harsh but for completeness’ sake was better being done on the spot, rather than finding out a few hours later his wife was alive and well and some other dead body had been dumped in his house. He had clearly been upset at the brief look but had willingly come with them to the station for interview. Grief did odd things to people. Some reacted like Sandra Prince and were unable to communicate. For others, like Paul Keegan, it seemed to have the opposite effect, driving them to remember things they might not normally and think with a level-headedness they might not usually have.

Jessica had a massive dilemma in whether or not to reveal his stepson Scott could in fact be indirectly responsible for what had happened. It didn’t seem fair to add more grief quite so quickly. She had established that Scott was now at university in Liverpool, about to finish his first year studying forensic science.

‘His mum was so proud of him for turning things around,’ Paul Keegan said. ‘He used to be a bit of a tearaway before we got together. I think he had issues with his dad.’

Jessica thought he didn’t know the half of it, while the irony of Scott learning about how to deconstruct a body given what Shaun Hogan said he had done wasn’t lost on her either. Another constable alongside her took notes as Paul Keegan spoke but Jessica said nothing about Scott. There was an older stepson too, Steven, who was just about to take his final exam in accounting at Keele University. They were both due to return home in the next fortnight for the summer break.

Mary’s husband spoke clearly and simply, explaining that his wife worked as a nurse and that week had been working late shifts, starting at 10pm and finishing at 6am. She would be arriving home as he was waking up to get ready to go to his own job with the council for 8am. They usually shared a cup of tea together, while swapping notes on the previous twenty four hours before he went off to work and she went to bed.

‘I always hate it when she’s on nights. Doesn’t feel right sleeping alone,’ he said.

The present tense he spoke in was hard to hear. What he had told them explained why the body had been found upstairs rather than in the living room or anywhere else. It also indicated Nigel Collins must have been watching the house to have known the woman would be vulnerable during the day.

Thinking about it from the killer’s point of view, Jessica could now see the pattern. Yvonne Christensen had been the easiest. She lived alone and slept at night like most people. If you could get into the house without alerting her, she would be fast asleep and provide no threat back to you. Martin Prince was next in line because he was always on his own during the day but perhaps seen as more of a threat because he was a man? Claire Hogan would have been slightly harder to plan given that she lived on a main road and had a steady stream of visitors. And then there was Mary Keegan, who was the hardest. Had Nigel been watching and waiting long enough for her shift patterns to switch from earlies, to daytimes then back to nights again? Certainly if she was working similar hours to her husband, finding an opportunity to get either one of them alone would have been a challenge. Nigel also didn’t seem too bothered whether he was targeting the father or mother, seemingly going for whoever the easier target was. He certainly must have kept an eye on the comings and goings over the past few weeks or months.