‘This re-enactment will be hard for him to resist. We need a press release which will list his characteristics, something like...’ he drew quote marks in the air and spoke rapidly, ‘Fit white male twenty to forty years old, intelligent, compulsively neat and tidy. May drive a dark van and own a German shepherd dog. He probably comes from a dysfunctional family and suffered childhood abuse. A history of lighting fires, bedwetting or cruelty to animals and/or younger children.’ He paused. ‘Has anything been mentioned to the press about the absence of sexual assault?’
‘Nothing one way or the other, no comment,’ Monty said.
‘All the better then, we’ll say he’s impotent or gay.’ De Vakey looked at Stevie as he explained his rationale. ‘This may hit a nerve and could quite possibly be correct. It may goad him into wanting to prove us wrong. If we get him angry, he’s more likely to slip up.’
Stevie felt the sofa move as Monty shifted his weight. ‘You think he might target Stevie?’
De Vakey appeared not to have heard Monty’s question. He leaned towards Stevie with his elbows on his knees, as if they were the only people in the room.
‘We can go on to say that the killer feels inadequate with women, could be a closet homosexual or impotent for some reason, the victims are merely an outlet for his rage. My assessment regarding this re-enactment is that our unsub would love to be there, though maybe not in an obvious way, maybe not with the rest of the crowd. It would be a private moment for him. I’ve walked the area, I’ve studied the maps. If I were in his shoes, I’d hide in the alleyway just down from the bus stop. While in hiding I would fantasise about the female police officer. I would imagine her continuing her walk down to where I was and I would see myself grabbing her, from right under the cops’ noses. Now, if this was only in his head, how would he feel if it really happened, if she really did come down the alleyway? He would see it as something that was meant to be and he’d throw caution to the wind. He wouldn’t be able to help himself.’
Stevie glanced at Monty. The knuckles of the hand that gripped the sofa’s armrest were white. She sensed what was coming.
Monty spoke before the De Vakey could continue. ‘I don’t like your plan. We’re talking about life and death here, not a day trip to Rottnest Island.’ The challenge in his tone was unmistakable.
Stevie wondered how De Vakey would respond.
His animation faded, he was back to his usual sea of calm. ‘The chances of his coming to the alley are slim, Monty, but it’s worth a try. I’m merely trying to predict his actions.’
‘No, you’re not getting me,’ Monty said, ‘I’m all for the reenactment, but this ending in the alley, this newspaper advert is ludicrous. She’ll be far too vulnerable—they can hardly position the TRG behind the dustbins.’
‘Maybe not behind the bins, but you’d be surprised at how well these kind of plans can work. Angus and I will consult with the TRG leader and we’ll work out their placement together.’
‘Okay, but if he is there, there’d still be a risky delay between his grabbing her and back-up arriving.’
‘This is just supposition, Monty, a long shot. I’m just trying to think objectively.’ De Vakey passed a tongue over his lips and looked Monty in the eye.
Monty sprang to his feet. ‘And I’m not?’ he bellowed. ‘You’re not being objective, you’re being callous. You want us to use Stevie as bait, for God’s sake. This is a re-enactment we’re talking about, something that is supposed to be shown on television as a memory jogger—not a bloody entrapment! You’ve said yourself that you don’t do individuals, only types. Who knows how this creep will respond to your goading through the press? He could do anything.’ Monty kicked out at a beer can they’d missed and it clattered into the wall.
Stevie squirmed on the sofa. Monty was supposed to be one of De Vakey’s most staunch supporters, but here he was going against the first proactive suggestion the profiler had made. And besides, she wanted to do it.
She tried to keep her voice cool and steady. ‘But it could work, Monty. Why not try to kill two birds with one stone?’
‘Three birds, more like,’ he said. ‘I won’t have it. I will not endanger you in this way. The only thing I’m sure De Vakey is right about is the fact that this creep is building up to something bigger and better. The timing of this re-enactment is wrong. I’ll have it cancelled.’
He stormed towards his phone.
Stevie rose from the sofa and put her hand on his arm. ‘Monty, you’re off the case, remember? This is between Angus, James and me. I want to do it, I’ll have protection and I’ll be wired. You’re just going to have to trust me.’
Monty glared at her and raised a corner of his lip. ‘Just what is it you’re always trying to prove?’
Stevie froze. ‘What the hell do you mean by that?’ Her eyes darted to De Vakey, catching the deepening furrow between his brows. This wouldn’t do. Making a scene in front of De Vakey, showing how easily Monty’s words could hurt her would not bloody do at all.
She took a deep breath, let it out slowly and settled back into the sofa. ‘It’s not about me, it’s about catching this killer before he kills again.’ Her voice sounded a lot calmer than she felt and she was pleased to see that her hand was steady as ever as she reached for her smokes.
Monty had turned his back on her, feigning an interest in something outside the window. His broad shoulders began to sag.
‘I’m still not happy about this,’ he said finally, dragging his feet back to the sofa.
Stevie dismissed him with a wave of her hand. ‘So you’ve said, but there’s nothing you can do about it, is there?’ She turned to De Vakey. ‘Moving on. You said before that our killer had some kind of police involvement. This reinforces Monty’s theory that someone with police access must have tampered with the files. Keyes and Thrummel are the obvious candidates for taking them from Monty’s flat, but someone else is clearly involved too.’
‘Yes, the missing notes are disturbing. Clearly the albino cleaner also needs checking out. In fact, all your male colleagues at Central can loosely be considered suspects or accessories.’ De Vakey gave Monty a look he thankfully missed.
‘The thin blue line is getting thinner,’ Monty said to his toes. ‘I had Wayne check the database for Harper’s missing alibi. It wasn’t there, so it must never have been entered in the first place. Nor was the name of the prostitute interviewed about the Lorna Dunn murder. It’s common knowledge that the case was bungled, but experienced officers couldn’t cock things up to this extent.’
He looked at Stevie, hesitated for a moment, running his tongue over dry lips. ‘I also asked Wayne to check out Tye Davis. Wayne talked to his supervisor at the mine and was told Davis was working the day Royce was murdered. He’s sending Wayne down his timesheets.’
Stevie felt the blood rise to her head. ‘What? Couldn’t you have said something to me first?’
‘We know a disgruntled cop might be involved—after everything you went through with Davis, surely he crossed your mind?’ Monty said.
De Vakey raised an eyebrow at Stevie’s reddening face. ‘Is there something I haven’t been told?’
Stevie forced herself to breathe. ‘Later,’ she said to De Vakey. He would have to know, but not now, and not with Monty present. She pulled her legs onto the sofa and hugged her knees. ‘Is there any chance there’s a second party involved in the actual murders?’ she asked.
‘In my experience this kind of killer works alone. He would consider the murders to be private, personal moments that he would have no wish to share. But it needn’t stop him from manipulating other people to serve his purpose...’ De Vakey’s sentence tapered off, as if he’d become lost on another train of thought.