Wrong Place: A gripping serial killer crime thriller. (17 page)

Sally got into the car and fastened her seatbelt. “The trouble is, it’s not as if we haven’t been trying, Jack. Let’s hope Amanda Collins comes around soon. Otherwise, I can see the body count rising even more.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sally and her team had to wait another twenty-four hours before they heard from the hospital again. The doctor overseeing Amanda’s care rang Sally on Mr. Collins’s instructions as he was too emotional to place the call himself.

“Will she be well enough for me to bring a police sketch artist along, doc?”

“I doubt it, Inspector. She’s still more than a little groggy.”

“The thing is, doc, we’re on a deadline.”

“I don’t really care about what deadlines you’re working under. All I care about is my patient and her needs. Come in and see her, by all means, just don’t push her. Give her time.”

“Okay. We’ll be there in half an hour.” Sally hung up and immediately called her partner into the room.

Jack appeared in the doorway, frowning. “Boss, what’s up?”

“Amanda Collins is awake. We have the all-clear to visit her but with reservations. Can you call the sketch artist for me? The doc advised me not to take the artist. However, I think we should, just in case Amanda wants, or is able, to give us a description of this creep.”

“I’ll get on it now. Shall I ask her to be ready to go ASAP?”

“Do that. I told the doc we’d be there within thirty minutes. Fingers crossed that this will turn out to be beneficial for all of us.”

Amanda was a sorry-looking sight. Her head was bandaged, she had a black eye, and a cast encased her left arm. Sally flinched when she saw the girl—Amanda’s wounds reminded her of what she herself had gone through during the last week at the hands of her ex and her parents’ neighbour. Amanda looked wary when Sally walked into the room, along with Jack and Kathy, the sketch artist.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Collins. You remember my partner, Jack. This is a colleague of ours, Kathy. She’s a police sketch artist.”

Amanda’s parents nodded their acceptance of the intrusion.

Sally approached the bed and said softly, “Well, it’s nice to have you back with us, Amanda. How are you feeling?”

“Not quite with it. Are you the police?” She eyed Jack warily.

Sally turned to her partner, winked at him, and motioned for him to wait outside. Jack cleared his throat, mumbled something about stepping out, and left the room before Sally continued talking to the victim. “I am. I’m the investigating officer working your case. I wondered if you were up to telling us how the incident happened.”

“I can try. Some things are a little fuzzy. I’m willing to help if I can.”

“Are you up to giving us a description of the man?”

Amanda closed her eyes and her chin began to wobble.

Sally smiled. “Okay, leave that for now. I don’t want to cause you any stress. Let’s wait until your body has had time to adjust first.”

“No. I want to. I can see his face. It’s imprinted in my mind. Every time I close my eyes, his face is hounding me, taunting me. If I share the information with you, do you think it will help me to get over it quicker?” she asked anxiously.

“Judging by what other victims have told us in the past, yes. Some people say it’s a form of therapy.”

“Mum, can you get me a drink of water, please?”

Mrs. Collins placed a straw to Amanda’s lips, and the girl sipped the clear liquid, emptying half the glass before she pulled her head away. “Thanks, Mum.” She smiled at her mother then looked up at Sally. “Where do you want me to start?”

“By telling us if you recognised the man who attacked you. Did you know him at all?”

“No, and yet there was something vaguely familiar about him.”

Sally asked the question that had been bugging her since the night Amanda was attacked. “Why were you in the alley that night?”

“I’d just finished a shift at work.”

“Where do you work, Amanda?” Sally asked.

“At Lewis Supermarket. I work the evening shift, stacking the shelves from five until eleven, four days a week.”

“I see. And the staff entrance backs on to the alley, I take it?” Sally tried to recall the layout of the area.

“No, a few alleys over. I use the cut-through to get to my bus stop. The last bus leaves there at eleven ten. If I don’t get on that, I’m screwed.”

“So you take that same route regularly?”

“Yes, after every shift.”

“And have you ever noticed anyone hanging around, possibly waiting for you before?”

She paused for a moment to cast her mind back. “Like a stalker? Not that I can remember. I would have told my parents if I’d had any fears like that.”

“Okay, at least that’s one thing. So, can you explain what happened right before the attack occurred? I mean, did he jump you from behind, or approach you on the ruse of asking the way? Something like that?”

A fearful and pained expression pulled at Amanda’s features. “He jumped out at me. He was waiting in a doorway and pounced, grabbed me around the throat.” Her hand went to her neck. “As soon as I passed by; as if he was waiting for me. If I had seen anyone lurking down the alley looking suspicious, I would have turned back immediately and taken the long way round. I tried to fight him off, but he was far stronger than me. Before I had the chance to figure out what was going on, he had me down on the ground. One hand over my mouth and the other up my sk…” Her voice trailed off, and she glanced in her father’s direction, apparently unable to say any more about the attack in front of him.

Sally got the gist of what she meant so bypassed the issue rather than feel the wrath of Mr. Collins’s tongue again. “Did you have any unusual interaction with anyone at work during your shift?”

“I don’t understand. You think it was a co-worker who did this to me?”

“You said he seemed vaguely familiar. I’m just trying to figure how you knew the culprit, Amanda. We need to know why he chose you to attack.”

She shook her head, winced, and twisted her neck until it made a loud
crack
. “Does there have to be a motive to all attacks? I haven’t led anyone on or anything like that,” she stated quietly.

Sally smiled at the young woman. “I wasn’t insinuating you had. Maybe this was just an off-the-cuff attack. Perhaps you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Do you want to try and give us a description now?”

“Yes.”

For the next twenty minutes, in between sobs and large breaths, Amanda described the assailant in detail as Kathy sketched. Between them, a face appeared on the paper. Then after a few minor adjustments were completed, Kathy handed Sally the sketch. She compared it to the sketch Kathy had drawn based on the description Tracy Brand’s boyfriend had given her. The two sketches showed men with similar features, but Amanda had produced a much better plausible identity of the suspect than the first one had.
No wonder the bar staff and customers at the pubs didn’t recognise him.

“Okay, that’s superb. Thank you for overcoming your pain to supply us with the details. I’m going to take this sketch and revisit some of the pubs where we believe this man might have encountered the other victims. I’m also going to visit your place of work. Maybe someone spotted the man eyeing you up at the store during the course of your shift.”

“I hope you’re going to take it to the press, too,” Mr. Collins interjected angrily.

Sally glanced up at him. “Of course, we’ll also be searching our database to see if we can compare the crimes to anyone who might have recently been released from prison on a similar offence. I hope your recovery is a speedy one, Amanda. I really appreciate you pushing yourself to give us this description. It was very brave of you.”

“I just don’t want anyone else going through what this man has done to me. My father said none of the other women survived.”

“That’s right, unfortunately.”

“Someone must have been looking down on me then. For that, I’m grateful.”

Sally and Kathy left the room.

“How did it go?” Jack asked as the three of them headed back to the car.

“Good, I think. At least we have a better idea of the suspect now.” She held the sketch up for him.

“That’s great. What now?”

“Back to the station.”

Once they arrived, Sally thanked Kathy for her stunning work before she and Jack entered the incident room. The rest of the team glanced their way expectantly. Sally took out the sketch and placed it alongside a copy of the first drawing.

“Wow, there’s no comparison! Perhaps the boyfriend was still drunk when he gave his description of the suspect,” Joanna exclaimed.

“Precisely. Just goes to prove how much more observant women are in comparison to men. Anyway, here’s what we’re going to do. First, I want everyone to prepare for a long shift. By the end of it, I’m hoping we’ll have this man’s name and address, at the very least.”

“Can I make a suggestion, boss?” Joanna asked, sounding uncertain.

“Sure, go on.”

“Why not revisit Dorling? It’s been a few days since your last visit. There should be some improvement in his condition by now. Maybe he’ll recognise the sketch now.”

“That’s definitely on my to-do list, Joanna. Thanks for the reminder. He wasn’t able to see the other sketch, so at least he’s a fresh witness. Can you get onto the media, try and get a slot on the evening news tonight? I haven’t really got time to call a press conference. Check if they’ll be happy to run the story only with the information we give them, will you?”

“I’m sure that will be fine. Do you want me to contact the evening paper, too?”

“Yes, do that. Right, Jordan and Stuart, while Jack and I are at the prison with Dorling, I need you to revisit all the pubs where the victims worked and flash the sketch around, see if anyone recognises the man or, better still, can name him. Okay, let’s get to it, people. We’re close now. Let’s keep the momentum going until we can haul this guy in.”

The room buzzed for a few seconds as the team began their tasks. Then within seconds, calm returned.

“Are you ready to go, Jack?”

He nodded and headed for the door. “Let’s hope this doesn’t turn out to be a waste of time like the previous visit.”

“That’s what I like to hear—the positivity resonating in your tone.” She laughed when he halted on the stairs and glared at her.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Les Dorling was sitting upright against his puffed-up pillows in his hospital bed when Sally and Jack arrived at the prison hospital wing. His demeanour altered the second he saw Sally, Jack, and the warden enter the room. He shuffled down in the bed, and his eyes flickered shut, as if he were pretending he was still having trouble seeing properly to prolong his stay in hospital.

With a smile set firmly in place, Sally spoke to the men accompanying her out the side of her mouth, “It would appear we have an actor in our midst.”

“We’ll see about that,” Warden Mountford said. “Time to get tough, I believe, Inspector.”

Sally nodded. “I’ll leave that part to you.”

“Right, Dorling. DI Parker and DS Blackman have come back to question you. This time, you
will
pay attention and answer them fully. Do you hear me?”

One eye inched open, and he glanced up at them. “But the doc says that I need bed rest and shouldn’t be disturbed.”

“Bollocks. The doctor said he’s pleased with your progress and that you’re prone to laying it on thick when it pleases you. He also said that he has every intention of discharging you this afternoon. That wouldn’t occur to him if he had any doubts about your recovery,” the warden said brusquely.

Dorling held up his hands and opened his eyes fully. “Okay, it’s a fair cop. The rest in a comfy bed was nice while it lasted.”

Sally was seething inside. She hated people making a fool of her, especially prisoners. She swallowed her annoyance and showed Dorling the sketch. Instantly, she could tell that Dorling recognised the person. “Who is he?”

He twisted his head from side to side. “I think he used to be my best friend.”

“Does this man have a name?” Sally’s heart rate quickened.

“Jed Liddell, if that is him. Are you telling me he’s set me up for these crimes?”

“That’s what it looks like to me. Why would he do that, Mr. Dorling?”

“How the effing hell would I know?” He scratched his head. “I’m asking myself the same question.”

“Okay, let’s go back to when you ‘used to be friends.’ Can you tell me why that friendship ended?”

“Jesus, to think I tried to kill myself because of that prick!”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“About five years ago, maybe longer.”

A sinking feeling attacked Sally’s insides.
If it’s been years, how did Liddell have access to Dorling’s semen?
“Are you aware that your semen was found as DNA evidence at every murder scene, before you were locked up and after?” Dorling nodded. “How would Liddell have access to that if you haven’t laid eyes on him in years?”

He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “He was seeing this girl, who took a liking to me. We had an affair behind his back. He kicked her out when he heard about the affair.”

“How many years ago are we talking about here?”

“I don’t know, about seven, I suppose.”

“Okay, but you said you thought it had been five years or so since you last saw him…” Sally folded her arms.

“He showed up, saying I owed him, that I’d robbed him of the one woman he’d truly been happy with. He’d planned on settling down and having children with her.”

“And?”

“Well, he said that he’d met someone new and they were struggling to have a family. They had attended some kind of clinic…”

“A fertility clinic?”

“Yes, that’s it. I couldn’t figure out where the conversation was going until he produced a pot and asked me to give him a sample of my semen.”

“What? For what reason?”

“He said that he didn’t want the doctors to think it was his fault that he and his new wife couldn’t have a baby. They were in the process of testing his sperm count. He shoved the pot, actually two sample pots, at me and
ordered
me to fill them.”

“And you did it? Why?”

“He said I owed him for stealing his girlfriend. You didn’t see the look in his eye. It was menacing, threatened all sorts without having to say the words.” Dorling shrugged. “It made no difference to me. If he wanted to look at a sprog made from my sperm every day of his miserable life, then why should I be bothered?”

“What man in his right mind would seek out such a transaction from a man he hated?” she queried, trying to work out the logistics in her head. “Maybe he seized the opportunity for payback as well as using your sperm for procreation.”

“Sounds a right nutter to me, boss,” Jack offered.

“A nutter who must have truly worked out his audacious plan years ago, to exact revenge on the man who stole the love of his life from him.”

“That sounds crazy,” the warden chipped in.

“You’d be surprised what tales we hear of people working through their desperation,” she explained to Warden Mountford before turning her attention to the man in the bed. “Tell me, Dorling, have you had any contact with him since that day?”

“No, nothing.” He pointed at the sketch lying on the bed in his lap. “That’s the first I’ve seen of him in years. Are you going to pick him up?”

“I don’t suppose you have an address for him? Never mind, we should be able to track that down easily enough.”

“Yeah, if he’s still using the same name.”

Sally inclined her head. “Hmm… well, there’s every reason why he shouldn’t. Is there anything else you think we should know about the events back then?”

“Nope. Can’t think of anything.”

“Thank you for your time, Dorling. I will post a request for you to be exonerated of the crimes you were arrested for in the light of the information you have just shared with us.”

Dorling rubbed his hands together in glee. “Great. Does that mean I can get out of this shithole soon? No offence, warden.”

She nodded. “I’ll make sure that happens sooner rather than later.”

Sally and Jack rushed out of the prison gate and hopped in the car. “Well, that was unexpected,” Sally said.

“Yeah, but it hasn’t really got us anywhere. The odds are the guy has probably changed his name. How are we going to find him?”

“That’s where the general public come in, hopefully. Let’s not give up on him still using his own name just yet. Back to the station pronto, I think.” She thought about the tasks she’d set her team and realised she’d forgotten to send someone to Amanda’s place of work. “Change of plan. We’re close to the supermarket. I think we’ll drop in there first.”

“For what? We ain’t got time to do your personal shopping, boss. We have a murderer on the loose.” Jack laughed.

Sally shook her head, took one hand off the steering wheel, and bashed her partner in the thigh. “Idiot, the supermarket where Amanda works. We should interview the manager and the staff. See if anyone saw this man hanging around or if they know him, right?”

“Agreed.”

After parking the car, Sally and Jack walked in the entrance of the supermarket. They approached the young girl in the kiosk, flashed their IDs, and asked to speak to the manager. The girl put a call out on the Tannoy, and a few moments later, a rotund, short-legged man appeared beside them.

“Mr. Davis, the police are here to see you,” the girl behind the kiosk informed him.

Again, Sally and Jack produced their IDs. The man raised his glasses and studied their identification. He turned. “Walk this way to my office, if you will.”

Once in the office, he invited them to take a seat. “How can I help?”

Sally frowned. “You mean you have no idea why we’re here?”

“No, none whatsoever. Please enlighten me.”

Sally exhaled a large breath. “It’s about a member of your staff, Amanda Collins. She was attacked on Sunday night and is in hospital.”

“Ah, yes, sorry to be so vague. A member of staff mentioned they saw an ambulance in the area. I’m up to my eyes in stocktaking at present. I have my area manager breathing down my neck. He’s due here any moment, and…”

Sally raised her hand to stop the man’s chuntering. “Yes, we all have our problems, Mr. Davis. Some are far greater than others. I wondered if it would be possible to question your staff and you, of course, regarding Miss Collins’s last shift. She was attacked directly after she left work, which leads us to believe that her assailant might have targeted her.”

“Oh, my! How dreadful. Of course, we’ll do anything to help with your enquiries. So this man is still on the loose, I take it?”

“He is at present, yes. Although we do have an ID for the man now, thanks to Amanda’s keen eye. He’s a Mr. Jed Liddell.”

She showed him the sketch, and the man’s eyes almost popped out of his head and landed on his paperwork. “What? Are you kidding me?” He fell back in his chair, and his mouth dropped open.

Sally swiftly exchanged glances with Jack. “Are you saying you know him?”

“I should do. He’s my bloody area manager.”

“
What
? Do you have his address?” She swallowed her mounting excitement.
Wow, this could be the break we’ve been waiting for!

“You’d have to get in touch with head office for that. I have his phone number, if that will help.”

“Fantastic. Hang on—you said you were in panic mode because the area manager is due.”

“That’s right. He could show up at any second. There’s no telling with him. Often he says he’s visiting but then changes his mind at the last minute. Actually, between you and me, he’s the worst one I’ve had. At least with the others, you knew where you stood with them.”

“Interesting. Is he local?”

“I believe so. Tends to keep himself to himself. Very offhand if you try and start a personal conversation with him. I don’t bother much now.”

Sally nodded. “Where is he now? Do you happen to know if he’s visiting another store in the area before he comes here?”

“We’re not privy to their itinerary. Their reasoning behind their elusive behaviour is to always try and keep the managers on their toes.”

“Okay, it was worth a try. If you could get me his phone number, mobile and landline, if you have them, that will help us a lot,” Sally told the manager. While Mr. Davis searched through the notebook on his desk, Sally said to Jack quietly, “Get on to Joanna, tell her to search for a home address for Liddell.”

Jack left the room to place the call.

“Ah, finally. I knew it was tucked away in here somewhere.” Mr. Davis jotted down the number and passed it across the desk to Sally.

“Both of them, great stuff. I’ll try his mobile first.” She dialled the number, and the call went to voicemail. She hung up and dialled the home number.

Mr. Davis was about to say something.

She held a finger up to her lips, indicating the manager should remain quiet during the call.

A frantic woman answered the phone. “Where the hell are you? I’m going to the hospital. Be there!” She hung up before Sally had the chance to talk to her.

Jack re-entered the room. She looked up at him and frowned. “Well, that was weird. I presume the woman was Mrs. Liddell. She must have thought I was her husband ringing, tore me off a strip, and said that she was on her way to the hospital.”

“For what?” Mr. Davis asked.

“I have no idea. It certainly sounded like an emergency to me. We should get over there, Jack, but which hospital?” She dialled the number again, but the answerphone kicked in.

“Very strange. Okay, I have an address for the Liddells. Perhaps we can figure out what hospital is local to them from that.”

“Great idea.” Sally punched the address into the map app on her mobile, and King’s Lynn Hospital was highlighted on the screen. “We’ll shoot over there. If Mr. Liddell shows up here, can you pretend that his wife called the store and urged him to go to the hospital when he arrived?”

“Of course. I won’t mention you were here, I’ll just tell him to get over to the hospital at once. I hope everything turns out well for his wife.”

“Thank you, I hope so too.”