‘OK,’ he told himself, trying to think like a detective and not the killer he hunted. ‘No matter how hard you tried to keep clean, you would have been a fucking mess. Your hands, sleeves, everything would have been covered in the victim’s blood. Blood has a nasty habit of getting everywhere, but once you cut through his carotid artery you had to deal with arterial spray too – blood spraying out under pressure from a heart trying to stay alive. You must have been covered in it – warm and wet on your skin like slick hot oil— Fuck!’ he chastised himself for drifting back into the killer’s mind.
He gave himself a few seconds to regain his composure. ‘You must have been a mess. You couldn’t have casually walked on to the tube or a bus like that, and even if you had a car nearby, you wouldn’t have risked walking to it covered in the victim’s blood. No. You plan too much. Somehow you got clean or clean enough to slip past a casual look. So you took water with you or knew where to find it or had something with you that would cover your blood-soaked clothes until you could get home and get clean. But what about your wife and family, or your parents? They would have noticed something.’ He thought for a second. ‘So you live alone. The bloody ones always live alone.’ He paused for a few seconds to allow his observations to settle into something more solid in his mind. The first sketching of a mind-map that he knew, one way or the other, would eventually lead him to the killer of William Dalton and Tanya Richards.
He took one last look around the inside of the garage – at the squalor of Dalton’s life and the bloody hell that was his death. ‘What do you want?’ he asked the killer. ‘You’re not just killing because you can’t stop yourself, are you? You’re trying to … you’re trying to achieve something. But what?’
He clicked his torch off and walked into the darkness that waited for him outside.
Next morning Sean was in his office at New Scotland Yard, a takeaway black coffee steaming on the cheap wooden desk that had snagged more than one pair of trousers. Engrossed in typing up his findings on the virtually obsolete computer he refused to allow IT to replace, he was unaware that he had a visitor until a sharp knock on his doorframe alerted him. Somehow, without looking up, he knew who it would be. Maybe he’d subconsciously detected her perfume. His entire body froze with tension when he saw her standing in the doorway.
‘Anna,’ was all he could say.
‘Sean,’ she replied, looking at the floor for a split second to avoid his eyes.
‘Been a long time,’ he told her.
‘You’ve not had an investigation that needed my input,’ she reminded him.
‘You mean one that Addis wanted your input on?’ he replied. ‘Your input about me.’
She walked into his office and took a seat without being asked. ‘We’ve talked about this, Sean. My loyalty is to you. I’ll only tell Addis what we agree he should be told. I’ll keep him off your back while you try to find whoever committed these crimes – and maybe I can help you with that too.’
He watched her for a while before answering – taking in every breath, every minute movement and involuntary twitch of her body. ‘Perhaps you can,’ he eventually said. ‘This one’s certainly a bit different.’
‘I read the file,’ she told him. Sean raised an eyebrow. She saw it. ‘Addis,’ she explained.
‘Naturally,’ he replied. ‘And what do you think?’
‘I think he’s a vicious killer who needs to be stopped,’ she answered.
‘That’s your professional opinion?’ he asked with a smile.
‘Part of it.’ She returned the smile.
‘And the rest? I’d be interested in hearing what you think.’
‘You mean you’d be interested in seeing how far behind you I am?’ she accused him.
‘That’s not true.’ Or at least, it was only partly true. He did want to hear her thoughts.
‘Well,’ she began, ‘he’s certainly high on the violence score, but low on the rage score.’
‘Meaning?’ Sean asked, although he believed he knew the answer.
‘Meaning you can almost certainly rule out mental illness,’ she explained. ‘He’s not raging over his victims – there are no multiple stab wounds, for example. He’s very precise. If he’s mad at the world, he has a very calm way of showing it. Murderous, but calm. And he’s not concerned about leaving his DNA at the scene, so it’s unlikely he’s killed before or been convicted of any crimes.’
‘Could he have killed and gotten away with it?’ Sean asked, although he was sure he hadn’t.
‘It’s possible,’ Anna agreed. ‘He may have used a completely different method. But I doubt it. He’s used the same method twice now, which means he likes to stick to what works – what he’s comfortable with.’
‘Interesting,’ Sean told her.
‘Interesting enough,’ she said, ‘but nothing you hadn’t worked out.’
‘You’ve flagged things I hadn’t considered,’ he lied. ‘You’re the psychiatrist – not me.’
Anna didn’t believe a word. ‘I’m glad I could add something,’ she smiled.
‘He raped the first victim,’ Sean quickly moved on. ‘Yet his second victim was male. What’s he thinking?’
‘I don’t believe he’s sexually motivated,’ she explained. ‘There were no obvious signs of sexual activity with the male victim, but he may well be more of a sexual predator than he thinks. Certainly, when the opportunity presented itself, he took it.’
‘She had no defensive marks,’ Sean reminded her, ‘so he raped her when she was dead – or almost.’
‘Or he threatened her into submission, or he’s strong enough to totally overpower her,’ Anna argued.
‘So what is he?’ Sean asked. ‘A rapist or a necrophiliac?’
‘Neither,’ Anna answered. ‘His reason for attacking wasn’t to have sex with them – dead or alive. That was merely a byproduct.’
‘A release?’ Sean shared his own idea.
‘His excitement would have been intense,’ she agreed, knowing what he meant. ‘It would have manifested itself in some physical way.’
‘You mean he got so excited he became sexually aroused?’ Sean cut to the point. ‘He needed to orgasm to calm himself down?’
‘I believe so.’
‘So we should be looking more closely for signs of sexual activity with the second victim?’
‘Yes,’ she told him, ‘but you were already going to – weren’t you?’
‘I was considering suggesting it,’ he admitted. ‘Though Roddis and his team would probably have done it anyway.’
‘I’m not sure I can help you, Sean,’ she told him, shaking her head. ‘You’re always at least two steps ahead of me – ahead of anyone. Anything I can see you’ve already seen.’
‘You’re