Vigilante (15 page)

The news broadcasters had spent the last few days reporting on the five victims of the so-called vigilante, where they actually only had three for definite and four in all probability. All the while Farraday had let the speculation build and now it was coming back to bite him. He almost shrunk in front of them, sinking further into his chair, before looking at Cole. ‘What have we got on the bent prison guard?’

‘Nothing, Sir. We’ve checked his house and his locker at the prison. His wife insists they own no other property and, as far as we can tell, there’s nothing else in his name. We’ve looked into records for things like storage units and allotments that might have a shed or something like that but again there’s nothing registered to him. That’s not to say he hasn’t used a fake name but we don’t have anything to go on. Short of digging up the entire garden or ripping up every floorboard I’m not sure there’s much else we can do.’

Jessica couldn’t remember seeing Cole angry but there was certainly an undertone as he spoke. Their boss simply nodded, his jaw clenched. ‘Daniel, what have you got?’

‘Not much either I’m afraid, Sir. The search of Robert Graves’ room turned up nothing. The labs have been looking at his mobile phone, which was recovered from the scene, but there’s nothing from that either. I’ve been helping with the phone tip-offs. We had been trying to link the suggestions to Donald McKenna but nothing matched up. We’ve also looked into anyone else who seemed legit separately but there were no obvious hits. We haven’t been able to either find a suspect for Robert Graves’ murder or link him to the other killings.’

Jessica didn’t say it but was pretty sure the reason they hadn’t come up with anything was because of her boss’ insistence on connecting cases that it now seemed clear had been carried out by different people.

Farraday nodded and continued drumming his fingers on the desk. His calmness was as disconcerting as his enthusiasm from the previous days. Jessica looked at the man and genuinely had no idea what he would do or say next. The rhythmic tapping was the only noise in the room and was almost hypnotic.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

The noise was broken by a knock on the door. The glass windows ran the length of the wall behind her and Cole. If the chief inspector had seen anyone walking past, he hadn’t said anything and the knock made Jessica jump. ‘Come in,’ Farraday said loudly. His voice boomed around the room. A nervous-looking constable in uniform came through the door.

Jessica recognised most of the faces from around the station but they had recently hired some new recruits and the man in the doorway must be one of them because she didn’t know him. ‘What is it, erm, Constable?’ the DCI asked, clearly not knowing the man’s name either.

‘Um, I’m not sure, Sir. A man just walked into reception and confessed to being the vigilante killer.’

SEVENTEEN

No one said anything for a couple of seconds but it seemed like an age. Farraday had stopped drumming his fingers and they were all waiting for him to speak.

‘I’m sorry, what?’ he spluttered.

The constable repeated himself but the DCI barely reacted, before eventually replying: ‘You two deal with it.’

Jessica didn’t think she could have been surprised by anything the chief inspector said given his erratic behaviour recently but his dismissive tone wasn’t what she expected at all. A few moments ago he had seemed part-angry and part-upset that the investigation was going nowhere and now someone had walked in and confessed, it was as if he wasn’t interested.

Cole stood first, peering towards the constable. ‘Where has he been taken?’

‘I’m not sure; everyone downstairs was a bit shocked. Someone handcuffed him then they sent me up to tell you.’

Jessica and Cole went down to the reception area where there were far more officers than there might usually be. Word had clearly gone around that something big had happened. Jessica caught the eye of the desk sergeant. ‘Where is he?’

‘Locked downstairs in the cells. He’s refusing to talk to the duty solicitor.’

‘Do you know who he is?’

‘No idea. He just said he was the vigilante killer and that he wanted to talk to whoever was in charge of the case. He wouldn’t give his name.’

Jessica was struggling to hear him over the voices in the area. She moved closer to the desk and spoke louder. ‘Does he seem legit?’

‘Dunno. He’s got the build for it. He seemed quite calm but you never know who’s a nutter nowadays, do you?’

They made their way to the interview room and Cole told the uniformed officer outside to bring the prisoner upstairs. It was just the two of them in the room.

‘What do you reckon?’ Jessica asked.

‘It’s hard to know.’

‘If he is who he says he is then he’ll have heard about Donald McKenna’s DNA being found at the scene. None of that’s been in the papers so if he’s just an attention-seeker, that’s how we should know.’

‘True but if he is for real and wants to confess it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s going to put everything on a plate for us.’

As the prisoner was brought into the room, Jessica glanced up and quickly did a double-take. The man looked a little like Donald McKenna – he had a similar build and hair that was the same style and colour but facially he was completely different. It was her reaction that really made Jessica start to feel as if the case was getting to her. Perhaps her verbal assault at the council chambers should have been the first indication but she felt as if she was beginning to see Donald McKenna everywhere. First it was in the description of the person who killed Robert Graves and now the person who had confessed. She hadn’t spoken to the prisoner in a week but he was still playing on her mind, along with the parents of the victims.

The man in handcuffs was offered the seat across the desk and the uniformed officer looked at them to ask if he should stay or wait outside. Jessica motioned with her head to say he could leave. When it was just the three of them, she asked the man for his name.

‘Are you in charge?’ he replied, staring directly at Jessica. His voice was higher-pitched than she would have guessed.

‘We’re both senior detectives,’ she replied.

‘Perfect.’ The man told them his name was Graham Hancock and gave them his date and place of birth, address and, without prompting and for no obvious reason, his national insurance number. Now they knew his name, Cole reminded him he was entitled to a solicitor. The man refused to listen to anything they said, despite being told there was a legal representative on site who would talk with him for free.

With little other option, Jessica formally started the interview. ‘What exactly are you confessing to, Mr Hancock?’

He gave the exact date and location of the first murder and then said: ‘I stabbed Craig Millar three times, once in the neck and twice in the chest.’

‘Why did you do that?’

‘I had seen his name in the papers, causing trouble and that. I’ve just had enough. It’s not right, dealing drugs and causing trouble all the time.’

‘How did you know where to find him?’

‘I checked it all on the computer maps, then went and looked around the area during the day. He wasn’t hard to find so I waited for him one night.’

Jessica nodded. ‘What else are you saying you’ve done?’

He again gave the exact date and place and offered the correct details for the murders of Benjamin Webb and Desmond Hughes. He claimed he knew they often played snooker in a certain club through asking around and had simply followed them. He said there had been a struggle but he managed to kill both men as they had been drunk and unable to react. He also knew their exact injuries.

Jessica thought it sounded possible. He made eye contact with both her and Cole throughout, speaking clearly. He obviously knew the areas involved and got the little details right. He stated correctly that one of the men had been stabbed three times like the first victim, while the other one hadn’t.

‘Anything else?’

‘The prison guard, Lee Morgan, I killed him too.’

‘Why?’

‘I have friends inside and they told me he had been smuggling phones in and giving preferential treatment to certain people in return for money and other favours.’

If true, it was more than they knew.

‘Who are your friends?’

‘I don’t want to say.’

‘How did you know where he lived?’

‘It’s not hard – Internet searches, social networks and so on. They were in the phone book anyway.’

‘Anything else?’

‘No, that’s it.’

It was interesting to Jessica that he hadn’t confessed to the killing of Robert Graves. The media had connected all five murders together but he hadn’t mentioned the final one.

‘Why are you confessing?’

‘Because I feel my work is done for now. Others can continue my cause.’

Whether he was genuine or not, the idea of copycats was chilling. It crossed Jessica’s mind that perhaps the killing of Robert Graves was done by someone copying what they had read about in the media.

‘Do you know we have DNA evidence from the scenes?’ Jessica hadn’t known whether or not she was going to reveal that but everything he had said so far had been accurate.

She saw his eyes flicker sideways slightly but he stayed calm. ‘It’s fine, you can test me.’ They didn’t need his permission to take a mouth swab but the fact he was happy to offer one was confusing. He must know that if he were making it up, he would be found out.

Jessica almost always felt confident in an interview room and trusted her instincts but now she felt lost for words. She wanted to say the name ‘Donald McKenna’ and ask if it meant anything but, at the same time, the last thing she wanted to do was give the man information he might not know.

Cole must have sensed her unease and spoke next. ‘What do you think the DNA test results are going to tell us, Mr Hancock?’

‘I know they’ll tell you I’m the man you’ve been looking for.’

‘Why are you so sure we haven’t already matched it to someone else?’ Cole asked.

It was the exact question Jessica should have asked and she didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to her. If the man had any doubts, he didn’t show them. ‘Why are you so sure your results are correct?’

It was a fairly cryptic thing to say. Was he simply feeding from what Cole had said or was he implying that he knew their results had thrown up someone unlikely?

‘What do you mean, Mr Hancock?’ Cole demanded.

‘You tell me.’

The two men stared at each other.

‘What type of knife did you use?’ Jessica asked, breaking the impasse.

‘Just a regular kitchen one. It’s still in my house if you want to get it. I had to wash it because I used it to chop some vegetables up yesterday but it’s still in the kitchen. It has a metal handle and is at the back of the knife rack next to the draining board. It’s not the biggest one, the one next to that. When I came in, they searched me and took everything I brought in. If you go through those things, there’s a door key – just take that and let yourselves in. If there are any problems, my next-door neighbour has a key too. I’ve got his just for emergencies.’

Jessica could feel Cole’s eyes on her and turned to look at him. He gave the merest nod to indicate the interview was over and then spoke the formal words for the recording. The officer was called back inside to escort the man back to the cells below the station.

As soon as he was out of the room, Jessica turned to her superior. ‘What do you think now?’

Cole shook his head. ‘I honestly don’t know. He’s either for real or someone with a perfect memory who just happens to be one of the best liars I’ve ever met.’

It was pretty much the only way Jessica could have described him. Almost all of the details he had given them had been released by the media in some form but remembering them all down to the smallest detail took some doing. He had even filled in small gaps, such as the prison warden smuggling in phones, something which had been alluded to but certainly not reported entirely as fact. If he were a fantasist, he was a first-class one.

‘What are we going to do?’

‘Check with Farraday. Even with this guy’s keys and permission we’ll still need a warrant to make it legal. If we get his mouth swabs straight off to the labs, they can start their tests while we go check his place out.’

‘Have you ever known someone offer you the keys to search their house?’

‘Only after we’ve smashed the door in.’

‘How long do you think we’ve got?’

‘We have the usual twenty-four hours without charge but the super will give us an extra twelve if we have to wait for the lab results. If they’re not back by then for whatever reason, we can always go to the magistrates for a few more days. It’s all going to come down to forensics anyway.’

Cole went to talk with Farraday to make sure a warrant could be quickly put in place as Jessica arranged a team to take to Graham Hancock’s property. She and Cole would be going, along with a couple of uniformed officers and some members from the Scene of Crime squad. They would be in charge of collecting anything that could be needed for evidence. It took a couple of hours but everything was in place by mid-afternoon and Jessica ended up letting everyone into the house after borrowing the door key from the house next door, exactly as their suspect had suggested. Legally, taking the key that had been confiscated from him at the station could cause problems because that property had to be locked away and shouldn’t be tampered with.

Jessica knew instantly their job wasn’t going to be as simple as she’d hoped. As she opened a door, she took a step back because of the smell, exchanging looks with one of the other officers as if to ask, ‘What is that?’

She grimaced but walked across the threshold. The cream wallpaper in the hallway had turned brown at the bottom and was peeling. She couldn’t even tell what colour the carpet was as it was barely visible. A bicycle was leant across a door at the opposite end of the hall and various electrical parts and broken plastic toys were left everywhere she could see. She led the way in, stepping over the various items and trying not to trip.

The hallway led into a living room and Jessica gasped as she entered. The curtains were shut and there was minimal light seeping through. She walked over and swished them open, turning around. To her left were row after row of newspapers stacked from the floor to the ceiling. They ran the full width of the room and halfway down the length too. There were thousands of publications. She moved further into the room, allowing others to enter. On her right was a television that looked older than she was. There were dials on the front and a chunky remote control that was connected to the set via a bundled-up wire on the floor in front of it. There was only one chair in the room, a battered brown armchair with light yellow foam spilling out of the side.

The smell was almost overpowering but Jessica blinked through it and walked over to the nearest pile of papers. She took a set of rubber gloves out of her jacket pocket and put them on, turning over the publication on top. It was a national newspaper from the previous day and sat on top of one from the day before that. Jessica put them back down and reached up high to take a paper from the next stack. It had a date from three years ago and the one directly under it was from the day immediately prior.

It seemed clear Graham Hancock had been storing newspapers each day for a very long time. She put the two papers back where she had got them from and then walked over to the very first stack, standing on the tips of her toes to reach two more from the top of the pile. They were both dated from consecutive days twenty-seven years earlier.

She showed them to Cole, shaking her head. ‘This is unbelievable.’

Jessica again returned the papers to the stack and walked through to the kitchen. The Scene of Crime officers had already put the knives into evidence bags and were looking through the rest of the drawers.

The smell was certainly stronger in the kitchen and Jessica saw why. Resting against the back door was a pile of rotting food, with maggots and small flies on the top. She quickly turned around and walked back into the living room. Cole was crouched down, unwrapping a balled-up piece of paper that had been left on the floor. ‘We’ll never get through all of this,’ Jessica said. ‘This guy hoards everything, be it newspapers or leftover food.’

Cole dropped the paper back on the floor and hunched further over to pick up another ball of paper from the ground. He started to open it out as Jessica continued speaking. ‘Unless there’s some dead body under the bed upstairs I have no idea what we’re going to get from this place. I just hope his DNA comes back as a match for…something. God knows how McKenna fits into it all.’

She tailed off as she saw Cole’s expression. ‘What?’ she said. The DI reached back across for the first piece of paper and held both sheets up for her to see. The pages had been torn from a lined notebook and the horizontal guides clashed with the crumples in the paper. On both pages was a beautifully drawn pencil illustration, the likeness terrifyingly perfect.