There are statements from the young couple who found Evie Starr and the report from the CSI team who’d examined the dump site.
Nothing my eyes land on does anything more than confirm what I already know or suspect.
The chief slaps his papers onto the desk and glares at us. ‘Nothing. That’s what I get from these – absolutely nothing. Tell me you’ve got something.’
Alfonse shakes his head while I remain still and silent.
‘You found something, Boulder?’
‘I don’t know. There’s something nagging at me, but I can’t figure out what it is.’
‘Figure quickly.’ Yet again the chief’s hands stray to his temples. ‘I want you to focus on the two women. The more I think about it, the less I believe Johnson’s murder is connected to the others.’
I disagree with his way of thinking, but I’m aware he has more experience than me when it comes to hunting killers. Besides, unlike Farrage and his cronies, I don’t have to follow his every order.
The chief looks at his watch. ‘We’ll meet here at noon unless something breaks through the night. If you think of anything, call me, regardless of the time.’
44
I get home and settle into my recliner with the reports. The thought nagging at me hasn’t come into bloom yet, but I intend to read them as often as necessary until it steps forward and identifies itself.
Finding a rhythm, I pour over page after page until I’ve read every report twice.
Inspiration eludes me as I try to reshape my questions to fit the knowledge accumulated so far.
I make some notes which I score out when I realise other facts refute their validity.
No matter which way I approach the problem it stays resolute, defiant of my attempts to solve it.
I pick up the remaining few pages of Kira’s journal. Perhaps a change of focus will freshen my tired mind.
As is always the way, it’s one of the last pages that gives me the breakthrough. There, among her ramblings about me, is a passage that makes my heart beat faster as the jigsaw in my mind begins to form a clear picture.
If I’m right, there’s a serial killer targeting Casperton with a bizarre way of selecting his next victim.
I grab my iPad and begin to seek out the registries Alfonse has shown me. I type in the hacked password he gave me and start my search.
First I look at the local births and marriages register, tracing back the family tree of Evie Starr. Knowing she had two daughters and a son helps and it doesn’t take long to pinpoint their dates of birth.
Finding the son’s children is easy as they will have the family name. He is the proud father of two sons. Both are unmarried so I can strike them from my thoughts.
I cross-reference the dates of birth of the two daughters against the register of marriages. Using their married names, I return to the dates of birth and check for any children. One has two daughters but neither carries the name I’m looking for.
Next I look at the second daughter and learn she’s been married twice. I’ve been looking for children from her second marriage. The first one only lasted two years but she’d produced a pair of twins.
There in a small font is the name I am looking for. To be certain I have the right person, I enter her name into the search box. It comes back with one entry. Hers.
I realise with a jolt I’ve gone about this the long way. If I’d started with her name and traced backwards I would have gotten the same verification of my theory two or three hours ago.
I call Chief Watson. He doesn’t answer so I leave a message and call Alfonse.
He listens as I tell him my theory and the research I’ve done. He agrees with my logic and promises the information I need within five minutes.
Feeling adrenaline pulse through me, I try the chief again. He answers with a gruff voice laden with the nuances of the recently awoken.
45
The chief looks extra stressed as I stride into his office. One hand appears to be fixed to his temple as he speaks into the phone. The fact he’s not getting any joy with his requests for help shows on every crease of his face.
The phone slams down and he glares at me as if it’s my fault. ‘Are you positive about this, Boulder?’
‘I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t.’ I pass across the printouts I’ve brought with me and hope he notices the needle in my voice. He can treat his subordinates however he likes, but I don’t take insults from anyone.
He scans the pages and gives a terse nod. ‘You’re right. They are connected.’ He grabs a folder off his desk and waves at me to follow him as he moves towards the door.
As we pass the front desk he leans over it, invading the desk sergeant’s personal space. ‘Get every officer you have the number for into this office in the next twenty minutes. I don’t care whether they’re traffic, detectives, off duty or retired. I want them here by the time I call you. Am I understood?’
He doesn’t wait for an answer, so I match his pace as he hurries outside. I climb into his car without bothering to ask if he wants me along.
The chief stands on the gas with vehemence. The tyres lay down a strip of rubber as the car shoots out of the parking lot with lights and sirens in full operation.
‘That’s a good call you made, Boulder.’ He sighs as his mind realigns itself from administration to action. ‘What put you onto it?’
‘I was reading Kira Niemeyer’s diary when I found out her cousin had discovered a person who’d hanged themselves. I remembered Kira’s body was found by Mrs Halliburton who is the sister of Paul Johnson. Two coincidences like that seemed a bit of a stretch, so I looked into the person that found Johnson’s body. She turned out to be Evie Starr’s granddaughter.’
He negotiates a corner so fast the protest of tyres can be heard over the siren.
Upon reaching our destination, the chief screeches to a halt on the wide road and jumps out. I’m a half pace behind him.
He bangs on the door of a stereotypical house until the glass splinters. Still he bangs and hollers until a light comes on and a dark shape appears behind the glass.
The door opens to reveal a man shaking off the effects of the sudden awakening. Stepping back, I can see other lights in the house turn on.
‘Mr Masterton, I’m Chief Watson and I need to talk to you at once. You are not in any trouble but members of your family may be in danger.’
Masterton looks at me, then the chief and back to me, his brain still too near sleep to process the information it is being given.
I step forward and usher him backwards. ‘Your family are in danger. Get everybody in the house downstairs. Now!’
My last word being shouted jolts something inside him. He stumbles up the stairs shouting names as he goes.
Two minutes later his family are gathered in the lounge. There’s a son of college age, another in his mid-teens and a wife. All of them are sleep-tousled and the wife’s expression is that of a professional lemon taster. A cat stalks along the floor then leaps into the lap of the youngest son.
The chief points at the elder son. ‘When Frederick here found the body of Evie Starr, we believe he was being watched.’
‘By whom?’ Even in her current state, the sour-faced woman gets her grammar correct.
‘The person who killed her and dumped her body there.’
‘I presume you’re connecting that lady with the two murders in the Gazette?’ Again it’s the woman who speaks. It doesn’t take much deduction to work out who rules this particular roost.
The chief raises a hand towards his temple only to stop the movement at shoulder height. ‘Our intelligence leads us to think the killer watches to see who finds the bodies. Once he’s identified them he selects a member of their family as his next victim.’