‘Have you been able to find out any more about this JJ?’ Carol asked.
‘I spoke to RigMarole yesterday. They say they don’t own the data posted by individuals on their personal pages. They say they don’t have access to it either. They say we need a warrant and that’s no guarantee that we can access anything on their server.’
‘Bastards,’ Kevin said.
‘So I went in anyway.’
Carol rolled her eyes. ‘I wish you wouldn’t tell me this stuff, Stacey.’
‘I have to tell you, otherwise you can’t distinguish between what’s evidential and what’s stuff we’re not supposed to know.’ There was a certain sense to Stacey’s logic, Paula thought. Shame it made Carol green around the gills.
‘What did you find that I’m not supposed to know?’ Carol said, her earlier bounce starting to fade.
‘All the personal data JJ used to set up the account is bullshit. None of it checks out. And he used a popmail account that doesn’t need any ID to set up. So, in essence, he’s a straw man.’
‘Another dead end,’ Paula said. ‘He’s a clever bastard, this one.’
‘Possibly too clever by half,’ Stacey said. ‘There is one strange thing, though. You all know who Alan Turing is, right? The guy who cracked the Enigma code and basically invented modern computers?’
‘Who killed himself because of the shame of being prosecuted for being homosexual,’ Paula said. ‘In case you’d forgotten that bit.’
Kevin groaned. ‘Not even the boss was in the job back then, Paula. What about Alan Turing, Stacey?’
‘There’s a famous photograph of him as a young man, still a student, I think, running at an athletics meeting. Anyway, JJ has cropped the head shot out of this picture, cleaned it up a bit and used it as his photo on his personal page. I’m not sure what that tells us, but it’s not random, is it?’
This is when we need Tony, Paula thought. They were capable of making guesses and advancing hypotheses, but they had no way of weighing them against each other. ‘So, do we think JJ’s gay, then?’ she asked.
‘Or a geek,’ Sam said. ‘Would you say, Stacey?’
‘Well, Turing’s a bit of a geek hero,’ she said. ‘But it might just be a red herring. If he’s that clever.’
‘Did we get anywhere with Daniel?’ Carol asked. ‘I know we don’t have his webbook, but I wondered if you’d been able to access his email account at all?’
Stacey looked slightly shamefaced. ‘Well, while I was poking around behind the scenes at Rig, I thought I’d check out Daniel’s account.’
Carol closed her eyes momentarily. ‘Of course you did. And what did you find?’
‘The person who’s been talking to him in a sidebar about the comedy circuit calls himself KK.’
‘Oh fuck,’ someone breathed.
‘And KK’s pages were cancelled the afternoon Daniel went missing. He used a different Turing photo, with a Photoshopped haircut so he doesn’t look so 1940s. Sorry to burst your balloon, Sam, but I think there’s not much room for doubt. We’re looking for the same person in both cases.’
They all wore the same look of desperation. ‘It’s not very likely that Seth’s still alive, is it?’ It was Paula who said what they were all thinking.
‘We still have to operate as if he might be,’ Carol said firmly. ‘But the one thing we all know from past experience is that a killer like this isn’t going to stop at two. Sam, do I take it the fact that you’re back means nothing much is happening up in Wastwater?’
Sam looked pleased at having the attention turned back on him. ‘Um, no. The opposite, in fact. But I thought you’d like to hear what’s happened face to face. Plus what I need to do, I can do better from here.’
Carol gave him a hard stare. He’s on the verge of undermining her authority and I’m not sure he even knows it. Paula sat back and waited to see whether Sam would save himself or not. ‘What has happened?’ Carol said, all the warmth gone from her voice.
‘The kind of result you can’t argue with,’ he said. ‘Late yesterday afternoon the divers pulled a plastic-wrapped bundle out of Wastwater, in one of the exact places Stacey had identified. ‘ He paused to beam at them all.
‘Do I take it we have a victim?’ Carol said repressively, reminding them all that finding a body could never be cause for celebration.
The realisation that he’d struck entirely the wrong note dawned visibly on Sam. He rearranged his face and cleared his throat. ‘More than one victim, I’m afraid.’
‘Mother and daughter, wasn’t it?’ Carol said.
‘Yes. And they did find the remains of a very young child. But—’ He couldn’t help himself. He just had to pause for dramatic effect.
‘But?’ Carol was definitely on the wrong side of cross now.
‘But that’s not all. There was a third set of remains. If that’s Danuta Barnes and her daughter, there’s another person down there with them. And it’s probably a bloke.’
CHAPTER 23
Tony stared down at his shoes, shoulders in a defensive hunch. ‘Thanks, Alvin,’ he mumbled, feeling like a barely tolerated idiot. ‘I appreciate you coming down to vouch for me.’
Ambrose had a look of angry disgust on his face. ‘I stuck my neck out to get the DI to bring you on board. And now this? This is the stuff of legend. And not in a good way. Now I look like a complete twat for even suggesting you. That’ll be my rep all over this force now. “Alvin Ambrose, the twat who hired the profiler that got arrested for being an intruder in his own house.” Thanks, Doc.’
‘I mean it, I’m really sorry.’
‘Why didn’t you just tell me about your dad?’
Tony sighed. ‘He wasn’t my dad. That’s the problem, really.’ Explaining himself to Ambrose, that was the worst of it. He’d spent his life building walls against the world, keeping to himself the things he wanted no one else to know. And all it took to bring the walls crashing down was one act of madness. This must be how his patients felt.
It had been the stuff of comedy, though there had actually been nothing funny about it. The screams of the estate agent had galvanised Tony, sending him diving out of bed in his boxers to grab his clothes. Unfortunately, it had also galvanised the house viewers, who had had the presence of mind to call the police and report an intruder.
The police had arrived in an amazingly short time. Tony was barely dressed, the estate agent still freaked out, the viewers with her on the other side of the door, refusing to let him out. In vain he had tried to explain that he had every right to be in the house. The fact that he had keys cut no ice with the cops. What made sense to them was the estate agent’s story that he’d viewed the house as a prospective buyer the previous day and now he was claiming he lived there. He had to admit, he’d have believed her. He’d have thought the madman in the bedroom definitely needed to be taken down to the police station till either he could be sectioned or his story could be verified. Or not, as they were pretty sure would be the case.
Once they were at the nick, it had all been sorted out very quickly. A call to his solicitor and another to DS Ambrose had straightened things out. He’d been released, with a none too gentle warning that next time he wanted to sleep in a house for sale, he should tell the estate agent beforehand. When he’d emerged, chastened and embarrassed, Ambrose had been waiting for him, his expression a lot less friendly than it had been to date.