Everyone was tired. Langton suggested to Anna that she accompany him early the next morning to give the Jordans the news about their daughter, as it was too late to call on them that evening. It was a duty that he had dreaded having to perform, but at least the Jordans might now be able to have closure. If their daughter’s remains were uncovered they could arrange a funeral, but first the body would have to be carefully exhumed by a forensic archaeologist, followed by a full post mortem.
‘Let’s hope to God we find her,’ he said quietly.
Anna nodded as they walked out of the station together. She gave him a sidelong glance.
‘So what made Oates make the statement?’
Langton shrugged and said that he’d elaborated on what life would be like in Broadmoor.
‘But it’s closing down, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, but he doesn’t know that. I showed him these.’ He passed her the folded pictures that Joan had printed for him from her computer. She bleeped open her Mini, threw her briefcase onto the passenger seat, and opened the pages, staring at the photographs of Peter Sutcliffe, the notorious Yorkshire Ripper. The second picture had been taken after he was seriously assaulted with a razor blade by another inmate in Broadmoor. The hideous distortion of his features and his bloated face made him almost unrecognizable. Anna refolded the pages and put them on the seat beside her. Sutcliffe now looked the embodiment of evil and whatever punishment had been forced on him, he deserved. Henry Oates would deserve as much, if not more.
Chapter Sixteen
Anna had never known Langton to be so emotional. Not that he said anything; it was the way he constantly touched the knot of his tie and kept on giving a light cough as if clearing his throat. The morning papers had been full of the news that a man was being held on suspicion of multiple murders and they had mentioned Rebekka Jordan’s name. Langton was furious and extremely concerned that Mr and Mrs Jordan might have read about it before he and Anna had had time to warn them.
The Jordans’ front door opened before they even had time to ring the bell, and it was clear at once from the way they both stood there expectantly that the couple had seen the papers. It was Stephen who asked them to come in and Anna noticed the way he reached out for his wife’s hand as he drew her into the kitchen.
Langton didn’t waste any time. He couldn’t, there was something heartbreaking about their tense frightened eyes.
‘We have a development. It’s not good news: we have made an arrest and I’m afraid the suspect has admitted to the murder of your daughter.’
‘Where is she?’ Stephen Jordan asked, all the while tightly gripping his wife’s hand. She was shaking so much, he had to put his arm around her shoulders.
‘We have a location, a disused part of a chalk quarry, and we will be searching for her and as soon as we know for certain we will contact you.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Stephen looked so confused, it was pitiful, as Langton attempted to explain in as comforting a way as possible that their detainee had admitted burying their daughter. He added that they also suspected that the same person had been involved in other murders and he had agreed to help the police recover the bodies. Langton was so hesitant and unsure of himself that Anna couldn’t help but move closer to the distraught couple. She took over.
‘The reason we are here is that the press have been informed of the arrest and we wanted to make sure you were aware of the possibility we will find Rebekka. If it is any comfort to you, the suspect has adamantly denied that she was in any way sexually abused and we will endeavour to bring you details as soon as we have confirmation we have found her. Right now we just have the suspect’s statement admitting to her abduction and murder.’
Stephen helped his wife to sit down. She was gasping, taking short breaths, her face was stricken, but it was as if she had already shed so many tears she was now unable to cry. The dreaded news they had been waiting for was now confirmed. Five years of waiting and hoping were over. It was wretchedly sad and neither Anna nor Langton could ease the pain. They left as soon as it was apparent the Jordans wanted to be alone.
Langton remained silent as they drove towards the station. Eventually, without looking at her, but staring out of the passenger window, he said quietly, ‘You shouldn’t have said that.’
‘Said what?’
‘We don’t know if he was lying – you said there had been no sexual abuse; we don’t know that, we don’t even have her body. He might have cut off her bloody head.’
‘For God’s sake, I was trying to give them some comfort.’
‘I know that,’ he snapped, pinching the brow of his nose and sighing. ‘Sorry, but comfort or not, you should never give out details that you are not certain about, and until we find her and the post mortem has been completed we won’t know if it was a broken neck that killed her, or…’ He paused, shaking his head. ‘You know what really got to me? His describing that fucking pink Alice band. As soon as he described it I wanted to put my hands round his neck and squeeze the life out of him.’
She agreed and continued driving as he got out his mobile phone, barking out instructions to Mike to begin coordinating the search of the quarry and organizing POLSA and underwater search teams along with firearms officers for Oates. He then rang his surgeon for an appointment to see how his knee was recovering so he could get a clean bill of health. No sooner had he cut off that call than his mobile rang again. As he answered Anna noticed his voice changed.
‘Good morning, ma’am.’
Langton listened to his caller and then gave her a brief update of the latest developments. He must have been asked about his health as he assured her that he would be fit and well that afternoon. He repeated his thanks, and then said that he would be available and looked forward to the meeting. When he shut off the mobile he was smiling.
‘Good news?’
‘You could say that. Area Commander asking to see me – she’s given clearance for whatever we require for the search but wants a full update, so drop me off at the Yard. It’ll be a big security job and I want a slew of men, plus a helicopter with all the new-fangled camera equipment. If that bastard buried his victims in the quarry we’re going to find them.’
He was back to his brusque delivery. In the previous call he’d used a very soft cultured tone – not exactly arse-licking, but close. It reminded Anna of something she had thought of when interviewing Oates during their last session.
‘You know Samuels suspected that Oates could have many different personality disorders with highs and lows, well did you notice how different he was when he was describing his abduction of Rebekka? His voice was lighter and he changed the way he tapped along the edge of the table with his fingers.’
‘Don’t go there.’
‘Pardon?’
‘I said don’t go there. Right now I couldn’t give a toss if he was talking like Gloria Swanson – he’s talking, that’s all I care about, and we keep him in whatever character he wants to play until we get what we want out of the little turd.’
The press were already picking up on the scent now that they had a serial killer under arrest. A few reporters and photographers had gathered outside Hackney Police Station and Mike was under pressure to give a press conference to control the media furore. Wherever the leaks were coming from, it was obviously someone close to their investigation. The last thing they needed was any press attention when they searched the quarry, so Mike intended to keep that under wraps when he agreed to hold a mid-morning press conference at Scotland Yard.
Barolli had been instructed to check on Oates and make sure that he had been given breakfast and then interview him about cases of women going missing over that last six years. In readiness Barbara prepared photographs of the women in question and Barolli set up the interview room with the items from the jewellery box. He laid them out on white paper, including the gold bracelet they now knew belonged to Angela Thornton. Her parents had returned from holiday and confirmed it had belonged to their daughter, as they had given it to her as a twenty-first birthday present.