Tick Tick Tick (32 page)

‘Yes we did.’ She pulls me in for a long lingering kiss. The day is really starting to look up.

Now I have to figure out how Nathan is picking his victims. In each group of names there are four cards to each, so is he just picking a victim with the same name – is that all it is? Or is there another method?

God, it’s nearly three in the morning. I hadn’t realised I’d been at the computer so long, and my brain won’t, can’t, think any more. I fax everything I have to headquarters and ask that all departments, including driving licence records, be contacted to search for the name Nathan Farrell.

As I slide into bed my last thought, well
nearly
my last thought is –
please don’t let me be too late to save the remaining one
. Then Connie’s hand reaches out for me and pulls me over, her fingers raking along my back. As I kiss her, feeling the heat between us rise, I let myself go, savouring every delicious moment of pent up desire, frustration and finally pure release.

I wake early and wander back in; I take a slug of orange juice and sit staring at the cards. Are people being killed just because of their name? There has to be more to it than that.

I notice that some of the cards have varying names of four; for example Mrs Garland, Miss Garland, Mr Garland, and Grandpa Garland. I flick through each set in the pack and find the missing link. By the time Connie has come back through, I’m frantically scribbling notes down.

‘What have you got?’ She runs a hand though her tousled hair.

I smile. ‘One of the missing links.’

She’s instantly on the alert; I like that.

‘Go on.’ She peers over my shoulder.

‘Well, not all of the families consist of just the mother, father and two children; some are aunts, uncles and grandparents as well.’

She gets up and pulls out a chart. ‘I think I know another missing piece of the jigsaw.’ Bloody hell, I haven’t finished working out my own yet, but I know she’s on a roll so I let her go on.

She draws the outline of a body, and then circles all the missing parts that he has taken: the tongue, penis, neck, feet, hands, breasts, legs, arms and belly button.

‘Do you notice anything?’ she asks.

‘Yes, it’s like he’s assembling a body.’

She smiles. ‘He’s putting together his own special friend, to replace Simon.’

‘Holy Christ… the sick, murdering son of a bitch.’ My mouth gapes.

‘What names are missing, is it just the one?’ she asks. It feels like someone has flicked the temperature gauge up full blast; we’re both racing on overdrive.

‘Like I was saying, he’s taken parts from
specific names
on the cards.’

She’s was on instant alert. ‘So not random?’

‘Nope.’ I shake my head. I show her my scribbled list.

Kathy Garland – Daughter

Raymond Brick – Son

Lucy Watts – Mother

Preston Law – Father

Mandy Arthur – Grandmother

Frankie Bush – Grandfather

Stacey Bun – Granddaughter

Sara Mason – Aunt

Robert Sutton – Uncle

‘What name is missing then?’ She’s getting as frantic as Connie ever gets.

I quickly scan the cards. ‘Bull, the missing name is Bull, and looking at the list, he’s got to get a grandson!’

Pain etches her face. ‘Oh God, I hope to hell he hasn’t already got him.’

I grabbed my car keys, threw on my jacket and kissed her.

‘Fax everything to headquarters now; by the time I get there they should have a head start.’

I’m almost out the door.

‘Downey?’

I turn. ‘Yes?’

‘Please be careful, this is one sick guy; don’t take any chances.’

‘You don’t have to worry about that one.’

And so the end is nigh
, I think, as my car screeched away.

Tick, tick, tick.

CHAPTER 37

The squad room is buzzing, the news has travelled faster than the speed of light, and everyone is gearing up for another battle royal. Everything that Connie faxed through is up on the wall; Grimes and the other coppers are poring over every minute detail.

‘Right… you’ve heard it. His name is Nathan Farrell; has anyone got an address, or a National Insurance number, passport number?’ barks Grimes.

Everyone shakes their heads. The phone rings and Fletch snatches it up.
‘It’s forensics,’
he mouths.

I grab the phone from his hand before Grimes has a chance to move, and switch it to speaker.

‘Downey here.’

‘We’ve got a match from the foot imprint casts that we found at Robert Sutton’s house.’

Bloody hell, it’s just getting better by the minute. ‘Go on.’ The room is in complete and utter silence.

‘The imprints match to a size ten CAB’s, do you know what this means?’

‘Yes, I do.’
Jackpot!
‘Okay, listen up; Nathan Farrell was wearing military boots at Robert Sutton’s house. Fletch, I want you to phone army headquarters and find out if they’ve got DNA samples of all military personnel going back fifteen years.’

‘Okay.’

I’m working on autopilot. ‘If they have, let me know while you’re still on the line.’

Grimes is listening to every word without actually speaking; Jeez, it makes a change.

I’m nervous, deadly nervous; I watch Fletch talking into the phone, and Jesus, the whole goddamn room is watching him. Now I know the fetish with the shoes and the feet – all good military men like uniform order and highly-polished shiny shoes.

‘Hang on,’ he says down the phone.

I can feel the beads of sweat forming on my brow. ‘Have they got them?’

‘Yep.’

I yank the phone out of his hands. ‘Detective Inspector Downey here; listen, do you have records on one Nathan Farrell?’ I can actually hear my own heartbeat, as the rest of the room listens to my every word.

‘You have.’ I could punch the ceiling. ‘I need you to fax everything to me now, right now, yeah thanks.’ I slam down the phone after giving them my number. Grimes looked at me expectantly, but for once I’m on a roll.

I snatch the phone back up again and punch in the numbers. ‘Forensics, Downey here. Listen, I need you to fax copies of my DNA result found at the house of Robert Sutton to the Registry and Specimen repository for military personnel and I need it done now.’

The army replies quickly – would you expect any less? The fax machine whirrs into life, nearly giving me a heart attack with it; I’m so damn wound up. I snatch it and rip it out.

‘Nathan Farrell, date of birth 10th of December 1963. He joined the Royal Marines Commandos in 1984, outstanding achievements in many covert operations; until a classified incident in May 2007, which resulted in his dishonourable discharge. Whereabouts at present unknown, but records show that he is logged as unstable, with deep psychological issues: we recommend you do not approach.’ My mouth sags, I can’t believe we’ve found the bastard. Teamwork, it’s all about teamwork; and that includes Connie.

The fax machine buzzes into action again, and slowly the face of Nathan Farrell appears before our very eyes. He looks like a killer; it’s the eyes, and it’s like staring into the depths of hell.

‘Get this picture copied and circulated.’ I hand it to the nearest copper, who actually runs to get it done; damn, we’re on a roll.

My mind is in turmoil. I need to find this son of a bitch before he kills again, finishing his list. I can only pray to God that I can get to him in time and that he hasn’t already murdered another innocent human being.

All this from the probably accidental death of a best friend. Connie was right; serial killers are made in childhood. I bet he joined the commandos to become one of the hardest bastards known to man, to become skilled in the craft of killing, bombing and God knows what else.

Focus, Downey, focus.

I bark orders to the entire room; hell, it even includes Grimes.

‘I need you to trace every grandson – probably less than ten years old – with the last name Bull. Start with the obvious, then get onto the marriage register and get me the matching maiden names from there, check school records and get onto the General Register Office for the birth certificates – get them faxed to us now. Come on people we’re running out of time.’

Coppers are running as if their lives depend on it; actually a small child’s life depends on it. I know that son of a bitch has made too easy a mistake; I just never thought he would actually slip up and leave us two pieces of evidence. If only he’d left it at Kathy Garland’s flat, we could have saved so many lives. If only.

Faxes stream in from every machine we have, notes are frantically scribbled down from phone books, business pages and school records are passed quickly among us, each of us automatically splits into teams and starts scanning every name we can find. Any that we think are young enough to be a grandson are written up on the board; another team starts trying to track them down. It’s chaos, but organised chaos.

I start yelling again; where the hell has Grimes disappeared to?

‘I need coppers despatched to every address on these lists, but don’t panic the parents; ask leading questions on the whereabouts of the individual, but I repeat, do not panic them.’ I’m trying to stay calm and focused; but hell, it’s tough.

Grimes strides back in. ‘I’ve called in the suits and the firearms team are ready to go.’

I merely nod. ‘Start moving; you don’t go near this son of a bitch, you call for reinforcements first. If you see him, don’t so much as breathe in his direction without calling for backup,’ yells Grimes.

Davies hands me the married lists. ‘Thanks.’ I start scanning the names; one seems to enlarge before my very eyes.
Tracy Bull, nee Mackay, son Garrett Bull.

‘Shit!’ I know exactly where the son of a bitch is going.

This time can I get there in time?

Tick, tick, tick.

CHAPTER 38

Response cars are pulling out at high speed, their sirens screaming; people stand and stare open-mouthed. Heavily armed coppers pile into vans, their tyres screeching as the helicopter approaches, its blades slicing neatly through the sky.

I push the car like a maniac, checking my taser with one hand. I know exactly where he’s going, but I’ve kept it to myself; this is one battle I want to fight on my own, I
need
to fight it on my own. Nathan Farrell has become an obsession; I didn’t like being set up, and I sure as hell don’t like a killer – this is time for payback.

Pulling up in front of Mack’s daughter’s house, I snap open the glove compartment and check for my Swiss army knife; I grab a roll of Duck Tape and stick it into my pocket.

Okay, I know you’re going to be in here, because you want to go out in glory; isn’t that right? And what better way? You thought Mack and I would arrest Tim Fash and put him away for life. You didn’t expect Mack to kill him, so now you’re going to kill Mack’s grandson. Well, news flash arsehole, I’m not about to let you – I’m ready for anything you’ve got coming my way. Hell, I sounded like a marine, I even felt like a goddamn marine. Bring it on motherfucker!

I casually walk past the house noting that Tracy’s car is still parked in the drive, but there’s no movement, no sign of life. A dog barks in the background, somebody’s car alarm goes off, wailing. It looks like no one’s home, but then that’s how it’s supposed to look… right? I decide to go round the back and vault into the garden over a neighbour’s fence.

Crouching down, I’m looking for clues; it takes about ten seconds before I see it.

Swine, I knew you would.

Staked hard into the ground is a plethora of tripwires attached to several mouse traps; on top of each one is a shotgun shell – very inventive, also deadly. I move to the least complicated one and steadily release the tension on one of the tripwires, millimetre by millimetre; I can feel the sweat forming on my brow, my fingertips aching from the pressure and tension. Finally I’ve done it and I move steadily towards the window.

What I don’t know is that I’ve just stood on a pressure plate buried under the ground, and started the clock ticking on a mother of a bomb.

I reach the window and peer through, my mouth and eyes open in horror. Oh Holy God, you bloody sod. Garrett’s tiny body is roped tightly to a chair. I can see red weals forming on his body, his mouth is firmly gagged; his wrists are covered in a circular PVC pipe. His small face is ashen, the tears pouring down in a continuous stream. He looks completely and utterly paralyzed with terror.

I motion at the window to grab his attention. He sees me but remains completely still; he’s one brave kid.

Keep still and quiet, I’m coming in,
I mouth. Garrett blinks at me, understanding. Just as I’m about to lift the window, the sun glints on a piece of wire inside.