‘Both I suppose.’
‘But when it comes to the girls?’
‘Novelty I suppose.’
‘Why?’
‘I get bored.’
‘Of seeing the same girls?’
He shrugged, but didn’t deny it.
‘So you have varied viewing habits. And always plenty of tenants moving out and new ones moving in.’
‘Sure.’
‘Do you have a type, Andrew?’
It was offered casually, but Helen could tell that Sanderson was 100 per cent focused on his answer – as was she.
‘There are all sorts of girls on your tapes. Large, small, white, black, dark hair, blondes. Do you favour any particular type of girl?’
‘I’m not fussy… but probably blondes. Especially if it’s dyed, so the rest of their hair is, well…’
He petered out, suddenly aware of the two women looking at him. For the first time in all their dealings, he blushed.
Helen rose.
‘For the purposes of the tape, DI Grace is leaving the room. DC Sanderson will continue and remember the pact we’ve made, Mr Simpson. Chapter and verse.’
She stared at him intently and he met her gaze, nodding gently. Sanderson resumed the questioning before Helen had even quitted the room, but Helen’s mind was already elsewhere. Sanderson’s burning of the midnight oil had thrown up one unpleasant but undeniable truth – Simpson didn’t have a type. The killer they were hunting was compelled to abduct women with black hair and blue eyes, but Simpson by contrast seemed to crave novelty, rather than specific body shapes, eye colour or hair type. It was almost as if the look of his subjects wasn’t important to him – just the fact that he could watch them undetected. Which meant that her nagging fears were probably true – Andrew Simpson was innocent of the beach murders. And of Ruby Sprackling’s abduction.
108
‘I have made the decision to release Andrew Simpson on bail, once he’s finished assisting us.’
The assembled team reacted with surprise and unease. They had heard rumours to this effect but Helen’s statement still took them aback.
‘He will be tailed of course and other charges are still pending. If he cooperates fully and helps us conclude the investigation, we may review those charges. But,’ Helen carried on, ignoring the dirty looks crossing the faces of some of the female officers, ‘unless you hear otherwise from me, Andrew Simpson is no longer our prime suspect.’
There was a brief buzz of chatter and reaction as her words sunk in. Helen found her eyes drifting to Lloyd Fortune. As her DS, he should have been by her side, spearheading the investigation with her, but he had been strangely absent of late – both physically and mentally. Like her, he also looked exhausted.
‘Andrew Simpson wasn’t fussy in the girls he targeted and both DC Sanderson and I believe that he no longer fits our offender profile.’
‘So we’re back to square one,’ DC Lucas chipped in unhelpfully.
‘Not quite,’ Helen countered quickly, alive to the effect that dead ends can have on team morale. ‘We know the killer’s type. And we know he abducts these girls with practised ease, which suggests he had access to their properties or had the girls’ confidence.’
‘Which is unlikely as they were all so different,’ DC McAndrew contributed.
‘Let’s test that theory,’ Helen continued. ‘Pippa Briers was a young professional. Roisin a single mum on benefits. Ruby Sprackling was a wild child. Isobel Lansley seems to be an introverted student who seldom left the flat. How are we getting on with her parents?’
‘They’re flying in this morning. Should be here by the afternoon,’ DC Edwards replied.
‘Good. So we’ve got four very different women, who lived miles apart, but shared a look and lived alone. How does he get to them? Let’s start with Pippa.’
‘Lived in Merry Oak, worked in Sun First Travel in the WestQuay. Liked to socialize in Bedford Place,’ Lucas shot back.
‘Find out who her doctor was. Her dentist. Friends, colleagues, book groups, start from the ground and work up. What about Roisin?’
‘Lived alone in a council flat in Brokenford. A number of boyfriends, some of whom seemed to overlap. Roisin liked the attention. Never had a job, attended a few free baby groups, went to the post office once a week to get her benefits. Spent the rest of her time window shopping, drinking and dreaming of being elsewhere.’
‘Ok, run down the boyfriends – every single one of them. Find out who worked at the Post Office, who was at those mother and baby groups. Ruby we know about, but let’s go over everything again – old school friends, Shanelle Harvey’s boyfriends, anyone who knew where she lived, how she lived… What do we know about Isobel?’
There was an awkward silence, before DC McAndrew eventually replied.
‘Very little really. Lived alone, kept herself to herself. Had fifteen followers on Twitter.’
Helen noticed a couple of the younger officers smirk. Fifteen followers was the equivalent of social death to them.
‘Student at the Oceanography Centre. Was halfway through her course when she went missing. Her parents funded her, so she didn’t have to work to support herself. From anecdotal evidence we’ve gathered so far, she went to lectures and then went straight home again.’
‘Ok, let’s focus our fire on her. She didn’t drink, club, socialize. So what professionals did she come into contact with that might link her to the other women? How is he doing it? How is he getting access to them? Isobel had traces of trichloroethylene in her hair – is that important? Does whoever’s behind this have access to this anaesthetic or derivative of it for their work? Check and double-check.’
There was a brief lull as Helen came to a close.
‘What are you waiting for?’
The team sprang into action, hurrying off to check and recheck their leads. Helen was furious at herself for wasting so much time on Price and Simpson. She hadn’t really had a choice but this would be of no comfort to Ruby. If that girl died, Helen knew she would never forgive herself. Would this last throw of the dice finally yield results or were they already too late?
109
The door swung open and Ruby jerked awake. How long had she been asleep? What day was it? Why had he returned?
Suddenly the whole bed moved. He had a hold of it now and flung it on its side to reveal Ruby cowering underneath. She blinked into the harsh light, ripped from her sanctuary and thrust out into the open. Slowly her eyes became accustomed to the light and she was surprised to see that he seemed to be shaking with anger. It was as if no time had passed at all.
‘Listen carefully, Summer, because this is your last chance.’
His voice was harsh and unpleasant.
‘You have let me down badly. Very badly indeed. If I had any sense I’d forget all about you. But I’m prepared to forgive you. I know you regret your mistake.’
Ruby said nothing. She didn’t know where his crazy talk was leading and she was suddenly very tired of this game.
‘But I won’t be hurt by you again. If you let me down again, you will be punished. Do you understand?’
‘How will you punish me?’ Ruby found herself saying, her words dripping with defiance. It was her talking, yet she had no idea where it was coming from.
‘Don’t push it. You’ve done enough har-’
‘Will you punish me like you punished Roisin?’
She picked Roisin’s crudely drawn Xmas card from the floor, thrusting it at him.
‘Or like you punished Pippa.’
She threw Pippa’s makeshift diary at him, a fierce rage overcoming her. He immediately backed off, as if the cards were toxic.
‘She was a mistake -’
‘Then what does that make me?’
‘Don’t try and trick me, Summer.’
‘I’m Ruby Sprackling -’
‘Your name is Summer -’
‘I’m Ruby Sprackling and I hate your fucking guts.’