Kill Them Cold Read online

  "You said earlier," Tom glanced at Eric, obviously reiterating something for the DC's benefit, "that you would check to see if anything was missing—"

  "I did. Elin wasn't aware, and there was nothing specifically mentioned on record, but the pictures they obtained from the family around the time of the original investigation pretty much all had Anette wearing a necklace." She reached to her left and retrieved a picture from her desk. It was a segment of a photograph that had been enlarged to A4 size. Cassie held it aloft so they could all see it and then stuck it to the board behind her. It was a delicate silver chain and attached to this were two small hearts entwined with one another. "This wasn't found with the body and Elin got in touch with her parents to ask the question. Apparently their daughter wore it everywhere – it was a gift from her father for her sixteenth birthday – and it certainly wasn't left at home."

  "Looking at it, it could easily have broken off during the assault or when she went into the water," Tom said.

  Cassie agreed. "But if we can execute a search warrant then we have something worth looking for. If our killer is a repeat offender and likes to gather trophies this will be as good as any."

  "What about Tina Farrow?" Tamara asked. "Are we aware of any personal item missing from her?"

  Tom nodded “Her sister, Angela, spoke of a heart-shaped pendant that Tina always wore; a gift from an aunt, I think.” He caught sight of Eric looking glum in the corner of his eye. "What is it Eric?"

  Eric started to shake his head but Tom persisted and he cleared his throat.

  "Are we sure then, that it is Alex Hart we should be looking at?"

  Cassie rolled her eyes. "Eric, the eyewitness puts them together—"

  "Nearly twenty years ago!" Eric didn't mean to be so forthright. It caught Tom by surprise. Eric held up a hand in apology. "I'm not saying it isn't him but we know how unreliable eyewitnesses can be at the best of times and we have to take this man at his word?"

  "Woman," Cassie said, correcting him. "And besides, we know Hart was in the area and no one can vouch for his whereabouts at the time—"

  "Although," Eric cut in, "Julia Rose says he was ill during his visit to Kristiansand …"

  "Seriously, Eric—"

  "Pack it in, both of you!" Tamara said. Both Cassie and Eric fell silent. Tamara indicated Eric with one hand. "You have a point, but an eye-witness identification is enough for us to proceed with."

  "But Julia Rose told me William Cannell was also there that night," Eric said.

  "Where – in Kristiansand?" Tom asked.

  "Not only in the city," Eric said, "but in the area where the girl went missing. He was having dinner in a restaurant near to the harbour with Julia and her colleagues."

  Tom's curiosity was piqued and he glanced at Tamara who seemed equally interested. Tom told Eric to continue.

  "Julia recalls Cannell leaving the restaurant around ten o'clock. How does that fit into your timeline?" he asked Cassie who had been glaring at him up until now but her stance softened. She checked the board.

  "Anette was walking home at that time, it's true," she said looking at Tamara.

  "We still have the witness. How strong was the line-up shown?"

  Cassie shrugged. "I've no idea but she did pick out Alex Hart."

  Tamara took a deep breath, folding her arms across her chest. "If she struggled then she might be guessing but if she went straight for him then it's a different matter."

  "Where are the Norwegians with the DNA samples you sent across?" Tom asked.

  Cassie splayed her hands wide. "No news on that but they're working on it. Maybe the results will come back tomorrow."

  "And the arrest warrant?"

  "Won't be issued until after the DNA tests are returned." Cassie looked at Eric and nodded. "Seemingly, their prosecutor isn't a fan of eye-witness testimony either."

  Now it was Eric's turn to roll his eyes at her.

  "It's not that I'm not a fan—"

  "Chill, Eric," Cassie said, waving a hand and dismissing his reply.

  "Wind your neck in," Eric replied using one of Cassie’s favourite phrases.

  "Stop bickering, the pair of you," Tamara said. "It's like being at my sister's and listening to her kids." Both Cassie and Eric looked sheepish. "Now, here's what we're going to do—"

  Tamara was interrupted by her mobile phone ringing on the desk beside her. She glanced at the screen and scooped it up. Stepping away she looked at Tom. "Chief Super—"

  Tom rubbed at his eyes. It'd been a long day and wasn't over yet. His instinct was to follow Cassie's plan and execute a search warrant on Alex Hart's home address. If they didn't find anything, then they still had an eyewitness who could place him with one victim and by the time they got around to interviewing him after the search, they could well have DNA evidence to back it up. That could provide enough leverage to press him on Tina Farrow's murder.

  "What? No one has spoken to me!" Tom heard Tamara exclaim, spinning on her heel. She snapped her fingers and drew everyone's attention. Covering the mouthpiece with her hand she hissed at Eric, "Get the BBC news channel up on your computer, now!"

  Without asking why, Eric hurried over to his desk and opened up his Internet browser, navigating to the BBC website. Tom and Cassie followed Tamara over to stand behind Eric, looking over his shoulder. She was still talking.

  "Yes, of course, sir," Tamara said. "I'll—" She took the mobile away from her ear, the chief super having hung up on her. She looked ashen. Tom was concerned.

  "What's going on?" he asked.

  "Oh bugger!" Eric whispered as the live stream started to play.

  Tom looked down and read the headline displayed beneath the feed – Local men implicated in second teen's murder. The live stream was on the national news channel. Tom glanced at the clock; it was the headline report at the top of the hour. The anchor-man crossed to a reporter. Tom ran a hand through his hair, pleased to see the reporter was standing on the steps of the police station in King's Lynn. At least he wouldn't have to manage the press on his exit from the station. No one spoke as the reporter detailed the case.

  “One of the men lives here in King's Lynn while the other is believed to live at an address in north Norfolk. We understand that both men are being treated as suspects in the rape and murder of a sixteen-year-old girl from Kristiansand in southern Norway – a brutal slaying of a teenager from a small, low crime city, that rocked a nation some fifteen years ago and may yet reach a conclusion in Norfolk. More questions are being asked tonight about how this may link to the murder of Tina Farrow whose remains were uncovered this past week in Brancaster, and whether either, or both, of these men are responsible for her murder.”

  “Initially, the focus was on Professor William Cannell, an academic of great renown in the field of medieval archaeology, who operates a high-profile consultancy from his office here in King's Lynn. He is a former lecturer at Cambridge. When we called at his home this evening, a couple of miles from where I am now, he was unavailable for comment but I did speak to his wife who emphatically denied her husband's involvement in any of these events.”

  “These events are moving swiftly tonight, Clive, as the attention in the investigation moves to another man – former archaeologist Alexander Hart. We were unable to reach him for comment this evening. However, we were able to speak to some locals who know him, one of whom described Alexander Hart as an oddball character, who is unemployed and lives alone having spent the past couple of years caring for his elderly father who passed away this time last year.

  So far, police have been unwilling to comment on the two cases, notably regarding the original inquiry into the disappearance of Tina Farrow and how the police in Norfolk may have allowed a serial killer to elude capture for so long. The investigation continues …”

  Tamara turned away in disgust. Tom pointed at the screen.

  "Eric, switch that off will you?”

  Tamara stalked the office. She wasn't one to overreact
, always being very controlled but he could tell she was furious.

  "Well," Cassie said softly, nervously watching the DCI pace the room muttering under her breath, "Elin did say they wouldn't be able to keep it quiet and if it was on the Norwegian news last night—"

  "Then it stands to reason it will have crossed the North Sea by tonight," Tom said, rubbing his cheeks. They could have done without the extra scrutiny for another couple of days at least. They'd lost the element of surprise.

  "Of all the bloody irresponsible things to do!" Tamara said, barely keeping herself in check in front of the team. She glared at Eric's monitor, waving a pointed finger at it even though he'd already navigated away from the news channel. "Don't they know what they've done with that report?"

  Tom shook his head, feeling dejected. "We should have moved on it this afternoon. I didn't think they'd catch onto it so soon." He exhaled with a sigh. "Bloody daft of us really."

  Tamara was in no mood to shoulder responsibility, or to assign blame either. Tom's phone rang and he answered without checking the screen.

  "Hello … i–is that DI Janssen?" The voice was flustered, speaking quickly and he thought she sounded scared although it was hard to discern due to the background noise.

  "Yes. Who is this?" he asked, stepping away from the others to enable him to hear better. "I'm sorry, I can hardly hear you."

  "It's Julia, Julia Rose," she said, almost shouting to be heard above the roar of the wind. "Please, you said I should call if I need to—"

  "Yes, of course." Tom gestured with his free hand to get Tamara's attention. Eric and Cassie stopped their spirited discussion and looked over. "What is it?"

  "It's Alex!" she said, desperation in her voice. "Please, you have to help me, help him!"

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Tom clambered out of the car, drawing his coat about him and turning the collar to the wind. The rain was almost horizontal now, coming at them in sheets off the North Sea. Tamara got out and came to stand beside him, repeatedly pushing the hair away from her face but to no avail. The wind was ferocious, lashing the rain against their faces as they shielded their eyes from the sting. The roar of the sea crashing against the rocks below carried in the brief interlude between gusts, the taste of salt was prominent with sea spray flung into the air around them.

  "I should go alone!" Tom all but shouted to be heard. Tamara shook her head emphatically. He dismissed her protestation, frantically waving a hand at the police cars now queueing up behind them, the darkness punctuated by the pulsing blue lights. "If we all tear about in the dark it will only make matters worse!"

  Tamara looked past him to see the numbers gathering. Eric and Cassie got out of their car and hurried over to them. Behind them were half a dozen uniformed constables, almost everyone on the late shift was present. Tamara looked up the path and into the darkness. To their right were sparkling lights of the houses in Beeston Regis, dropping away on a gentle slope from the cliff top. To the left was the inky blackness of the North Sea, raging as the late summer storm hammered the coast.

  "And you're sure this is where she said they were?" Tamara asked.

  Tom nodded. "She said he'd gone to the Bump." He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. "That's Beeston Hill. The locals call it the Bump. If he's as distraught as Julia Rose says he is, then if he sees all of us piling up the path mob-handed it will make things worse not better."

  The rain was streaming across Tom's face now, his hair stuck to his scalp as he squinted to keep it from his eyes.

  "Fine!" Tamara said. "But you're not going alone." Tom made to protest but she waved away his argument. "And I'm coming with you." She turned to Cassie who looked displeased at her decision. "The two of you stay here. If you don't hear from us in fifteen minutes, come after us." She turned on Tom "No arguments. We can't be out here all night and if we can't talk him down by then …"

  Tom accepted her call and turned, heading along the well-trodden path up to the high point without checking that she was with him. Beeston Hill had been a listening station during the war, part of the building's foundations were still present as was a simple three-metre tall wooden cross erected to overlook the sea. The hill had been one of two carved from the coastline by the retreating glacier at the end of the last ice age. Now only one remained, the other long since pulled into the water by the brutal battering offered up by the tides.

  With only a couple of hand torches to light their way, the two of them hurried along the path. Reaching the steep steps up to the point, Tom checked with Tamara. She was wet through, much as he was. It was incredible to think he was already missing the dry humidity that'd been plaguing them for the past week or so. The early rain of that evening had been a relief, a precursor to more tolerable conditions but not before this weather front finally made landfall.

  They made eye contact, Tom eager to see if Tamara was prepared for what they might face. She nodded and they set off for the summit. A gust of wind caught Tamara off balance, virtually lifting her off the ground and Tom caught her before she was blown from the path. Undaunted, they pressed on. They couldn't see anything beyond the beam of their torches, driving rain shooting across their path and making the going treacherous. The ground, a mixture of sand and shingle, had been baked hard over the previous weeks and now the deluge was coming down with such speed it didn't have a chance to soak in and was cascading across the ground at their feet along the path of least resistance.

  Tamara, holding tightly on to Tom's hand, was being practically dragged up by Tom who was ploughing on regardless, so keen was he to reach the top.

  "You go on!"

  He looked sideways at her and she nodded vigorously. He seemed reticent but did as she asked, releasing his grip on her and setting off, striding up the hill at pace. The rain momentarily eased as he approached the summit, gifting him the briefest of reprieves and allowing him to take in his surroundings properly. Two figures were present. Dr Julia Rose stood roughly four metres away with her back to him, her coat and hair billowing out behind her. Alex Hart stood in front of her, a few steps away, the gale force winds swirling around them. Tom stood still, buffeted by the wind, assessing what was passing between them. Hart was dressed in a chequered shirt and jeans, completely drenched and ill-prepared for the conditions. His face was contorted but not as a result of the driving rain that now returned with increased intensity. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, his expression was maniacal and he spat at Julia Rose as he barked at her. Tom couldn't make out what was being said, the words drowned out and carried away on the howling wind.

  Tom moved closer, careful not to angle the beam of his torch at anyone directly. He approached Julia and she must have seen the torchlight in the corner of her eye or sensed his presence because she turned to face him, instantly recognising Tom and stepping forward to clasp both Tom's hands tightly within her own. Tears streamed, carrying her eyeliner and make-up with them, mixing with the falling rain.

  "Please!" she screamed at Tom, glancing towards Alex Hart who seemed poised to run, but where to, Tom could only guess. "You have to stop him, please!"

  Tom tried to release himself from her grasp and move in front of her, but she was reluctant to let him go as if doing so would be a failure on her part to convey the gravity of her need. Her presence worried Tom. Hart was clearly distressed and having someone present who was emotionally tied to him, even one from so many years ago, could be more detrimental to the situation than beneficial by triggering intense memories when what was needed was calm.

  Managing to free himself, Tom eased himself past her, putting himself between the two of them. Hart scowled at him, his eyes dancing in the flickering light of the torch.

  "Alex!" Tom called. "It's me, Tom. You remember? We spoke a couple of times this week—"

  "Leave me alone!"

  Spittle flew from Hart's mouth as he spoke, his upper lip curling into a snarl as he shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. Tom half expected him to launch
forward with an attack but instead he leapt away from Tom, awkwardly climbing over the simple wire fence stopping people from walking too close to the cliff edge. Tom followed but at a steady pace, eager not to alarm Hart. He kept his hands out in front of him, wishing he could dispense with the torch because the flickering light seemed to agitate his quarry but without it they would be plunged into darkness.

  "Alex, please don't!"

  Tom glanced back over his shoulder upon hearing Julia's desperate plea, happy to see Tamara reach her and place a supportive, and restraining, hand on her shoulder. The second beam from the torch sparked another tirade from Hart.

  "Black Shuck!" he screamed, his eyes widening in horror and his anger turning to fear in an instant. Tom was momentarily thrown. "You won't take me!" Hart screamed, looking behind him and moving another step away from Tom. Carrying out a quick calculation in his head, Tom considered how quickly he could close the gap between the two of them. He figured it was less than three metres of open ground, easily traversable provided he didn't lose his footing on the long grass between the fence and his quarry. But the fence was the problem. He couldn't spring a surprise advance and get over the fence quickly enough without Hart having a chance to react. Hart's eyes fixed on Tom. Perhaps he read his mind because Hart backed away, perilously close now to the cliff edge. In between gusts, Tom could hear the roar of the sea hammering away at the cliff face some sixty metres below them. He daren't advance much closer.

  Holding out one hand, palm up, Tom sought to make eye contact with him, the only way he thought he might be able to convince Hart that he wasn't a threat.

  "Alex," he called, loud enough to be heard above the wind but hopefully soft enough not to cause alarm. "I'm here to help you, Alex." He beckoned towards his chest with his raised hand. "Please can you come away from the edge?"

  At mention of the cliff edge, Hart looked behind him and down. To Tom it looked as if he must be peering down into the dark and foamy fury of the water itself. He stared down at it and Tom silently cursed the presence of the safety fence, confident that with a clear run he could get the drop on him before he could react. Hart was in a state, evidently borderline psychotic but certainly not thinking properly. Any decision making he had would be impaired but that could be just as dangerous because it was also more likely to be impulsive.