The Killer Inside: A gripping serial killer thriller (Detective Jessica Daniel thriller series Book 1) (18 page)

That left them with a name of someone who seemingly didn’t exist, with a face they didn’t know – plus they had no idea how he got in and out of locked houses.

Nigel Collins really had set them quite a puzzle.

T
he next day
was one Jessica had not been looking forward to. Every news bulletin on TV and radio had led off with the story that Nigel Collins was the ‘Houdini Strangler’. The only photograph the police had to release was that of Nigel’s bruised face from almost six years previously, so it had been that staring out from the front of every newspaper, national and local, as well as the morning’s broadcasts.

Jessica had been up at six in the morning to watch the coverage on a loop. She first watched the BBC, then changed channels and watched ITV, before returning to the BBC for the local take on it all. She also spent the entire time surfing news websites. In terms of information released, none of the stations had that much to go on. DCI Aylesbury had hosted a press conference the night before. The first three murder victims’ names had been previously released but Mary Keegan had now been added to that list.

The media had been told that Nigel Collins was the chief suspect, but the link to the victims’ children had not been revealed. It would surely only be a matter of time before that got out, though, and Jessica was only half-surprised she hadn’t read the story on the
Herald
’s website, with Garry Ashford’s byline. Aylesbury had been keen to stress that the public were not at risk and that the police didn’t believe there was any need for further alarm. It was a fine line, as they were pretty sure Nigel Collins had completed his killing spree but they couldn’t be certain. It seemed unlikely he would go back for the other parents, but it was possible that the children who had tortured him could be targeted.

If it wasn’t leaked, that information almost certainly would be revealed at some point in the following forty-eight hours. It seemed inconceivable the original case into the assault on Nigel Collins would not be reopened.

Randall had stayed over at Jessica and Caroline’s flat the night before, and he and Caroline had got up an hour or so after Jessica. The three of them had watched the news together. ‘Oh God, Jess. This is awful,’ Caroline said as she cuddled into her boyfriend on the sofa.

Jessica had never really told her the full extent of the case and, although it had been in the media consistently through the past few weeks, this coverage seemed so much more real, given the graphic detail. ‘It’s okay,’ Jessica replied, giving her friend a slight smile.

‘It’s sick, is what it is,’ Randall said, gripping Caroline tighter and kissing the top of her head.

Jessica left them to it. She had a feeling it was going to be a long day, something which was confirmed as she pulled her car onto the road where the station was located. A full media scrum was bustling outside the gates. She had to stop and crawl through the mass of people. There were television cameras and flashes going off from photographers’ cameras. She drove slowly, being careful not to hit anyone, and saw Garry Ashford off to one side. In the fleeting glimpse she got, he seemed overwhelmed by the mass of people pushing and shoving.

Scott Keegan had been kept in the cells under the station overnight after returning from Liverpool late the previous evening. They could hold him for up to twenty-four hours without charge, but the intention had only been to keep him in until morning. By then, the news about Nigel Collins would be widely known and they could speak to him.

Jessica parked and entered through the station’s main entrance. There was a television high on the wall above a rank of chairs in reception. A few years previously, someone had managed to steal an old TV from a similar spot, despite it being in the reception of a police station. There had been much mickey-taking at the time. The replacement was usually turned off, but had a rolling news channel switched on with the sound turned up as Jessica walked in. She glanced sideways at it and could see an outside shot of the door through which she had just walked.

‘They didn’t get your good side, did they?’ laughed the desk sergeant, who was pointing at the screen. Jessica ignored him, breezing towards the stairs to check in with Aylesbury. DI Cole was also present, of course, and the morning update was as she would have expected. All three Nigel Collinses from the previous day had been ruled out, which left them with no one.

Initial forensic results were back, which meant someone would have been working late into the night. Mary Keegan had been strangled in the same way as the previous victims but it was suspected, as with Yvonne Christensen, that she had been asleep when she was attacked. There was next to no evidence of a struggle. As Jessica had thought, the blood in the bedroom belonged to the victim, with nothing in the way of DNA from anyone other than the husband. Some hair and skin samples were still being checked – but, in a lot of ways, that kind of evidence was irrelevant for the moment, as they knew who they were after. If – or when – they found Nigel Collins, it would be useful in tying him to the scenes for a trial.

The DCI did tell them that word had come down that the Nigel Collins’ assault case was going to be reopened. Given the way the two cases were going to be linked together, it was the only thing that could realistically happen. A separate set of officers would return to HMP Leeds to speak to Shaun Hogan. When Jessica and Cole had talked to him the previous day, he hadn’t been under caution. The hope was that he would repeat what he had told them on tape. Having seen his demeanour the previous day, Jessica felt that he would.

After the meeting with her superiors, it was then time for the main team briefing. In itself, it threw up very little, but there was at least a buzz considering everything that had happened in the past day. Rowlands had been sent back to visit Wayne Lapham. Although he wasn’t a suspect, they still didn’t know if he was linked to Nigel Collins. Given his record of thieving, it could conceivably be true that he had happened to burgle from two of the four murder victims, but how that could relate back to their prime suspect was another mystery.

Following that, Jessica and Cole went to the interview room to talk to Scott Keegan. Jessica almost felt sorry for him when he was brought up. He was more or less as she would have pictured him, given Shaun Hogan’s story. He was short, with sandy-coloured hair, and looked strong across the shoulders. That strength was undermined by his pale white skin and the bags under his eyes; he didn’t seem as if he had slept much. He had been told in the cells he was entitled to legal advice. He hadn’t wanted to speak to his stepfather on the phone and, as he didn’t have much money of his own, had opted for the duty solicitor. He already looked defeated as he was led in. There was no swagger and none of the cockiness someone like Wayne Lapham had.

Cole started the tape and went through the usual spiel but Jessica had conducted enough interviews to know the young man sitting in front of her was going to confess to everything. When Cole had finished speaking, it was Jessica’s turn. ‘Do you know why you’re here, Scott?’

He didn’t look up. ‘Yes.’

‘I want to ask you about Nigel Collins.’

No answer.

‘Scott?’

He still didn’t respond.

‘You know that name, don’t you?’

From nowhere, Scott exploded into tears. Jessica couldn’t make out much in the way of words from him, only sobs. No one said anything, allowing his cries to echo.

‘Are you okay, Scott?’ Jessica asked after a while.

It seemed as if the solicitor was about to step in but, as he reached forward, Scott said, ‘It’s why she’s dead, isn’t it?’ His words were still half-drowned by tears but could be clearly made out.

Jessica saw no reason to hide the truth; he would know soon enough anyway.

‘We think so, yes. We think Nigel Collins murdered your mother yesterday.’

The sobs got louder, but Scott was trying to talk through them. ‘It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.’

Jessica turned to Cole, who gave a slight nod and they waited for Scott to quieten. It took a while.

‘Are you okay, Scott?’ Jessica asked, when his sobs had subsided.

‘Yes.’

‘I need you to tell me what happened with you and Nigel.’

Scott spilled everything, confirming pretty much what Shaun Hogan had told them the previous day. He even took responsibility, saying he’d made up a story about seeing Nigel look at his girlfriend, and admitting he’d carried out most of the attack, pressuring his friends to join in. He spoke with very little interruption for over twenty minutes, Jessica only interjecting to clarify a few points.

Maybe it wasn’t crucial to either of the investigations, but at the end she felt she had to ask the question, if only for her own benefit. ‘Why did you do it?’

The fact he didn’t need to think was chilling in itself, though the way he said it did at least sound remorseful. ‘It was something to do. Everyone knew he was that weird guy who hung around and I thought it would be a laugh.’

All of
this
because some kid wanted something to do...

‘Why him?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know.’ Scott shrugged. ‘He was there. Everyone knew he was a bit weird. There wasn’t a reason.’

‘Is there anything else?’

‘No… I don’t know why it happened. I was different then, angrier. Dad had left and… I don’t know. I’m so sorry.’ He swallowed another sob before continuing. ‘I’ve thought about it every night since but, at the time, I couldn’t stop myself. I was hoping everything was over, going to uni and all that…’

Jessica didn’t like the twinge of sorrow she felt for him. He had done something unforgivable years previously, and had made it worse by coercing his friends into it, too. Then he had covered everything up. She could tell from the way he spoke that he had genuinely agonised over it in the years since. Scott would only have been thirteen at the time and now, years on, all these lives had been ripped apart.

Cole stepped in and formally charged Scott Keegan with attempted murder. The feeling was that the charges would be revised down to grievous bodily harm before it got to court as there was no Nigel Collins to give evidence. They still had the medical details on file from years before, plus this new confession. It would be up to the CPS to decide.

There would be a media release later to explain the link, and Scott would be up in front of magistrates in the morning. Jonathan Prince and James Christensen would most likely join him whether they confessed or not. The evidence the police had from Scott would be enough to charge them. Shaun Hogan might or might not appear via video link; Jessica didn’t know.

Given the fact they would be feeling responsible for the murder of one of their parents, Jessica fully expected Jonathan and James to confess too.

What a mess.

C
ole had disappeared
to pass on the news to Aylesbury that they had a confession, while Jessica headed off to the main floor to see if any progress had been made on finding Nigel Collins.

They had traded in not knowing who the killer was to simply having no idea where to find him. There had been no luck with tracking down extra photos. Two members of staff from the children’s home had been found, but they had no mementoes and no idea who else would have anything. His previous schools had been visited and, though year group photos had been discovered, he wasn’t in any of them. Jessica didn’t think it was a surprise, given the way he had been ostracised.

She did laugh when someone told her one of the officers had been in contact with the
Herald
to check their archives relating to the car crash that killed Nigel’s parents, in case there was a photo of him as an eleven-year-old. There wasn’t, of course, but it had been worth a try. Going to the paper would have given Garry Ashford another tip to follow up. From the
Herald
’s website that morning, she could see he had done well. Not only was there all the standard information everyone else had been given, but he had somehow managed to get himself a chat with Kim Hogan. Jessica wondered how Garry had talked the girl around. It seemed as if he’d had more success talking to her than Jessica had.

Rowlands was bringing Wayne Lapham back to the station for a follow-up interview. They weren’t expecting to get anything in relation to knowing Nigel Collins but it had to be done. For obvious reasons, Jessica wouldn’t be taking part in that interview. She didn’t know if Peter Hunt would be present. The jury had gone out in Harry’s case the day before, so it seemed unlikely, as he would still be at Crown Court waiting for a verdict. Besides, Wayne Lapham wasn’t likely to be getting all the media coverage, considering that the press had Nigel Collins and his four torturers to focus on now.

Jessica started to make her way back to her own office but a constable stopped her before she could reach the door. ‘The DCI wants to see you,’ she said.

Cole was still in the DCI’s office. Usually his face was hard to read as he gave so little away but, as Jessica looked at him sitting in the chair across the desk from Aylesbury, she thought he looked angry. There were worry lines across his forehead and he was shaking his head. She had never seen him like that before.

‘Sir?’ she said, looking at the chief inspector.

Aylesbury told her to sit down too, his own look stern. Her boss took no time in cutting straight to the point. His first three words made her heart sink and instantly explained Cole’s expression. ‘Serious Crime Division.’

I
t had been
in the back of Jessica’s mind pretty much since they’d first started working on the case. The Serious Crime Division always had it in their remit to step in and take on crimes of this magnitude, especially if solving it wasn’t proving too easy.

Their timing was hard to take.

Jessica and her team had already done the hard work – they had found the connection between the victims and knew almost certainly who the killer was. They had even solved a case from six years ago, albeit accidentally – but that wasn’t the point.

‘Why are they talking about this now?’ Jessica asked.

Aylesbury let her vent her feelings with very little response, nodding to show he was taking everything on board. Cole didn’t add anything but he seemed sympathetic. Aylesbury explained the decision was taken by people higher up the chain of command than him, assuring her he had done his best through his dealings with DSI Davies to put her very views across. She doubted they were
exactly
her views, however, given the amount of off-the-cuff swearing she had come out with.

As it stood, nothing had been decided, but Aylesbury told her things would be sorted out within the following twenty-four hours – and they would most likely have a decision by the morning. Jessica would have put a lot of money on knowing precisely what the outcome would be. Given it had already been a long day and everyone was left in something of a limbo, the chief inspector told them both they should finish off any other work they had.

He was going to be in talks for the rest of the evening and there was still a press release he wanted to draft along with the media office. The only thing Jessica had to console herself with was that if she stuck her foot down on the drive out of the station, she might strike lucky and get a cameraman or two under the wheels.

B
ack at her empty flat
, Jessica stomped around, slammed a few doors and generally took her aggression out on as many inanimate objects as were to hand. Or foot.

If only Nigel Collins wore a big sign around his neck with his name on, or a large top hat with neon flashing lights and a giant arrow. It would be wonderful to find him that night, before the SCD took the case away. Then she could march in tomorrow morning, past the reporters, photographers and TV cameras, and plonk Nigel Collins down in reception and give a big, collective middle finger to everyone.

Of course, given she was the person who doubted herself the most, that middle finger would be as much for her as anyone else.

As her irrational fantasies got more and more out of hand, the front door clicked open.

‘Hi,’ Caroline’s voice called out. ‘You’re home.’

Randall was with her but Jessica didn’t mind. For once, she actually felt like some company. After saying their hellos and some brief small talk, Caroline said she would cook for them all. Jessica hadn’t eaten all day and wasn’t particularly hungry, but her friend said she didn’t mind if there were leftovers.

Jessica shifted over to the recliner and they all ate off their laps, watching some soap opera that none of them apparently followed. Jessica would have had anything on TV that wasn’t the news. The food was good, some sort of rice thing, and they laughed together at a preposterous story twist in the soap involving a long-lost uncle. Meanwhile, Jessica tried to forget about events at work. It must have been clear she wasn’t in the mood to talk about it as neither Caroline nor Randall asked how her day had gone.

After they had eaten, they shared a bottle of wine as they lounged in the living room.

‘Can we talk for a minute?’ Caroline asked.

Jessica knew from the tone it would be something serious. ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’

Randall laughed, but Caroline peered down and started stroking her belly. ‘Have I put on weight?’

‘I didn’t want to say anything…’ Jessica said.

‘Oi! Cheeky.’

They all laughed but, when the mood had settled, Caroline tried again. ‘Randall quit his job today,’ she said. ‘He’s been offered an apprenticeship with a design company in the city.’

‘That’s great, congratulations,’ Jessica said, looking across to the man on their sofa. He had a small grin on his face.

‘That’s not all, though. We had been talking about it, but when he got the news, he went out and put a deposit down on a flat we’re going to rent while we look to buy somewhere. We want to know we can live together before we make too big a splash.’

Jessica had known it was coming but still felt something lurch in her stomach. It was an odd feeling. She was delighted for her friend, but there was a part of her that selfishly wanted them to stay living together until Jessica herself had found someone.

‘I’m so pleased for you both,’ Jessica said, getting up from her seat to hug the pair of them.

‘Is it really okay?’ Caroline asked.

‘Of course.’

‘We’re not going straight away,’ Caroline added. ‘We’ve got a month, so we are going to move things in bit by bit.’

‘So I’ve got to put up with your dodgy cooking for another four weeks?’

‘I’m afraid so, yes.’

‘So it’s all marriage, kids, the works then?’

‘Get out of it. Not yet.’

Caroline and Randall snuggled closer on the sofa and Jessica strongly suspected the ‘not yet’ part was critical. She didn’t think it would take long.

‘The big question is: what does his mum make of you?’ Jessica asked. ‘There’s got to be a bit of competition there now for his attention. You’re going to be the tart who stole her precious boy away.’

‘Mum and Dad live abroad,’ Randall said. ‘I reckon they’d be big fans, though.’

The wine bottle was empty, so Caroline sent her boyfriend off to the kitchen to get another. ‘And get used to waiting on me hand and foot,’ she called after him. They heard the toilet door go while they were waiting.

‘Are you sure you’re going to be okay?’ Caroline asked.

‘I’m a big girl and all that.’

‘Are you going to stay here?’

‘I don’t know. Probably. I can afford the rent on my own. It’s close to work, which helps.’

‘Maybe you can get some fish for company?’ Caroline had a mischievous look on her face.

‘I don’t think I’d trust myself to look after some other living creature.’ She remembered the stuffed chicken from Hugo’s house, thinking that was close to her limit.

‘Is everything okay with… the case?’

Jessica didn’t want to get into things, so nodded. ‘It’s fine.’

J
essica felt
like a condemned woman on the drive to work the following morning. Rain was lashing down, which at least meant the full press pack wouldn’t be outside the station’s gates. ‘
Journalists
,’ she muttered to no one in particular while driving. ‘A group of people on a never-ending quest for the truth… Unless it’s pissing down, and then the truth can go bugger itself.’

There were a few people outside the gates, but nothing like the day before. Jessica weaved between a couple of television cameras and made sure that the car shielded her from any unwanted long camera shots when she parked. Even though she felt sure the case was going to be taken, Jessica had still spent the morning watching the news.

The tragic story of Nigel Collins was everywhere, while the link had been made to the three young men who were going to be in court that morning and the one who was already in jail. Jessica realised, thinking about it, that was probably why the throngs outside the gate had thinned so much – everyone was at the magistrates’ court.

She went upstairs first, but Aylesbury saw her through his office window and waved her away. He was on the phone, most likely deciding her future. She returned to reception and spent a few moments watching the rolling news on the mounted television. There were some outside shots of the courts, but nothing much was happening. Some presenter was talking frantically as the drizzle poured in shot behind him. ‘Go indoors,’ she whispered.

Jessica grabbed a copy of the
Herald
from the reception desk and disappeared into her office. DS Reynolds wasn’t around, so she took off her shoes and leaned back into her chair to read. The front page was a given, so she flicked straight past. Garry Ashford had another background piece inside, this time with Paul Keegan.

It was labelled as an exclusive and Jessica couldn’t help but be impressed that the journalist had managed to get both Kim Hogan and Paul Keegan to speak to him on successive days. He hadn’t phoned her since she’d told him not to and, in some ways, she felt a bit sorry about that. As annoying as he was, his phone call after each find had almost been the proverbial kick she’d needed to get things moving properly. It had also allowed her to blow off some steam with some choice words.

The article itself was mainly a tribute to Paul Keegan’s wife. It skirted around the details of Scott’s involvement, which had been written about elsewhere, but included things about charity work she had done and how many years she had given to the nursing profession. It was nicely written and Jessica couldn’t help but feel her emotions stirring. What a waste of life.

She continued flicking through the pages and thought how odd it was that one news story could be about something so dark, yet overleaf was a light-hearted article about some world record cross-stitching attempt. It was bizarre.

There was a knock at the door. ‘Come in.’

DCI Aylesbury entered and Jessica quickly wheeled around in an attempt to not look quite so casual. She put the newspaper down over her keyboard. ‘Sir.’

He sat in Reynolds’ seat and peered around the room, taking in Jessica’s messy half, but saying nothing about it.

‘I’ve just been to see Detective Inspector Cole,’ he began. Jessica knew where the rest of the conversation would go. She stared at a spot on her desk, refusing to meet his eye. ‘After speaking to Superintendent Davies this morning, following various discussions last night, it has been decided that the Serious Crime Division will be taking over responsibility for finding Nigel Collins.’

Jessica said nothing, continuing to focus on her desk.

‘I’m sorry, Sergeant Daniel. Everyone appreciates the work you and the team have put into this investigation.’ He paused, as if to give her an opening to reply. She didn’t trust what she might blurt out.

‘Jessica…?’

He had never once called her by her first name, always ‘Detective’ or ‘Sergeant Daniel’. She looked up at him and, perhaps for the first time, saw him as a man, rather than a policeman who was her superior. He was staring at her, his head slightly tilted to one side. ‘I’m proud of you,’ he said. ‘I don’t think anyone could have expected more.’

Jessica felt a lump in her throat. She wanted to speak, if only to tell him to leave so he wouldn’t see her burst into tears, but no words would come out. Surely, she couldn’t cry again? Not in front of her boss. She blinked hard and fought not to lose it. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she croaked.

He must have seen how close to tears she was but didn’t react. ‘There will be other cases,’ he said. ‘You have proven to everyone you can handle serious matters.’

Jessica nodded, but still couldn’t speak.

‘I’ve got to go and speak to a few more people and then arrange for exactly how things are going to work. Feel free to finish up any paperwork you have outstanding and liaise with Detective Inspector Cole.’

He swiftly stood and turned, exiting the room and closing the door behind him. Jessica didn’t move but could hear the hum of people working outside. She blew her nose and then closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She didn’t know if she was angry or upset. Another knock came on the door shortly after and, thinking it was Aylesbury back for some reason, she again composed herself. ‘Come in.’

It was Rowlands.

‘The verdict’s due,’ he said, nodding over his shoulder.

He dashed back out of the room, presumably expecting Jessica to follow. She was confused, thinking Scott Keegan and company had only just shown up for their first appearance that morning – then she clocked he was talking about Harry’s case at the Crown Court. The jury had been out for two days and must have returned.

She quickly put her shoes back on and followed Rowlands into the reception area. It seemed ridiculous that members of a modern police force were waiting in their own entrance foyer, watching a small portable TV screen high on a wall. There were other televisions around the station, but none were hooked up. There were various health and safety guidelines about setting up electrical items and, even if there hadn’t been, Jessica suspected a lot of the crew wouldn’t have been able to figure out where all the leads went anyway.

A presenter was standing outside a different court to the one from that morning. He was shielded by an umbrella as the wind blew his hair around. Across the bottom of the screen scrolled the words:

The sound was up, but Jessica couldn’t hear what was being said over the expectant chatter. A library photo of Peter Hunt appeared on the screen to enormous boos and various insults that rhymed with Hunt around the room.

If the jury believed Tom Carpenter had been attacked first, or that he had
thought
he was in danger, they could decide he was allowed to use reasonable force to defend himself. In most cases, a knife would not be reasonable but, given the way Harry had been portrayed as out of control, they might be swayed.

There was no doubt that Carpenter had stabbed Harry but, according to the desk sergeant, Carpenter had claimed on oath that Harry had come at him with a glass, that the knife was in his pocket and he’d acted instinctively. That didn’t sound like Harry to Jessica but, with all the witnesses conveniently being in the toilets at the time and no one to say any differently, it was Harry’s word against Carpenter’s. It would come down to the jury – and Harry hadn’t helped himself. If they believed the force Carpenter had used was reasonable, they would find him not guilty.

Jessica remembered the two female jurors on the front row and the man she guessed would be the foreman. Would any of them have been swayed by her as a character witness? Had the man in the suit pushed for a guilty verdict, or had he believed Harry had been a threat?