Death on the Coast Read online

  The only brave thing he dared do was not go to Tana’s for the meeting later. Let them find him if they wanted him. He wiped away tears as he waited for the train back to the city.

  16

  Sunday morning came in fine and clear. Claire brought Dan up a cup of tea and headed off to the gym for a step class and a swim, followed by coffee, cake and a chat with the girls. Reprieved, Dan went for a bike ride. Murder inquiries could just wait a day. He needed downtime, too. He’d given the whole team the same two-day break so they would be fit for Monday, and he’d have them all available. Even so, he knew Sam, Adam and Lizzie had pulled some overtime on Bonfire Night, which was fine by him. Thus far, there had been no news of any murderous fires, about which he was mightily relieved.

  He’d had to pick up his bike from the flat, but he’d sneaked in and got it, only pausing to knock at the bedroom door and tell his dozing sister that he’d see her later. All had looked good at the flat. He could feel the stress and concern that surrounded Alison easing. Maybe he had done the right thing after all. Maybe people could change.

  Picking up speed along Cowick Street, he headed out of the quiet city towards Dunsford and the Dartmoor National Park. There was little traffic about before 9am. He had an ambitious forty-mile circular route planned, including a couple of big hills and some great downhill stretches. It would take him up to Postbridge, past the prison, and back home via the quiet lanes. The day was cold, but it might warm up. He didn’t care. He felt the surge of freedom that only being on a bike gave him, and put his legs into it.

  He was snuggled into a corner of the bar in the Warren House Inn at Postbridge, enjoying a pint of Otter Ale and a bacon roll, when his phone rang. He groaned, took another swig to send the bite of sandwich on its way, and answered. It was Colin White, duty sergeant. ‘Colin, what can I do for you on my day off?’

  ‘You know I wouldn’t bother you unless it was urgent, Dan, but you’d better get in, fast. There’s been another one.’

  ‘What, another burning?’ His heart did a flip. The bloody ritual element after all. Lizzie, you were right. Deep down, after ploughing through all the ridiculous claptrap that the Internet had spewed forth about these fire cults, he’d known that.

  ‘Yes, sir, Dawlish Warren. Nature Reserve ranger called it in. I’ve got the forensic team on their way and informed the coroner’s office.’

  Dan checked the time. ‘Colin, I’m on Dartmoor, on my bike. It’ll take me almost two hours to get home, and about the same if I cycle straight to Dawlish.’ He banged the table in frustration.

  ‘No worries, I can get Bill Larcombe down there to oversee the site. The local Dawlish bobbies are keeping it safe for you. Go home and get changed.’

  ‘Aargh. No, it’ll still take too long and I want to be there to see it for myself. Send me out a van big enough to get my bike in, and see if you can get Ben Bennett down there, too. Tell them I’m on my way.’

  He explained where he was, and sat staring out of the window at the moor dropping away from the high road. There was very little he could do for the next thirty minutes, so he finished his sandwich, ordered a coffee, and had a good think. These were well planned murders, with easy victims. A serial killer cult in Devon? Really? Lisa Middleton would be wetting herself with excitement.

  He rang Chief Superintendent Oliver and told her they needed to meet later. He tried in vain to recall the name of the guy that Neil had recommended he talk to about cults, but he had it written down in his notebook, which was at home.

  There is nothing, he thought, nothing as frustrating as not being able to do anything.

  * * *

  An hour and a half later, Dan locked his bike to a railing, thanked the driver, and was happy to climb into a protective suit to avoid any unnecessary comments from his sergeants about his mode of dress. He could see the entrances to the dunes were blocked off with tape and gave a swift nod of approval.

  A Dawlish PC stood with his clipboard at the outer cordon and insisted on calling Bill Larcombe to identify Dan, who had no ID on him at all. Left alone, outside the cordon, he felt suddenly vulnerable without the usual trappings of a suit and his warrant card. It rendered him ‘civilian’, and therefore, a nobody.

  Bill Larcombe, glowing inside his protective clothing, bustled over and signed Dan in. ‘Everything’s under control, boss, no need for you to be here on your weekend off.’

  ‘It’s your weekend off as well, Bill, and I’m not staying long. I just need to see if it’s the same MO as the other one, and then I’ll let you get on with it. Who else is here?’

  ‘Fox is off this weekend. We have a different doctor, and forensics has just arrived.’

  ‘Okay, thanks.’ They walked across damp sand and grassy stretches towards a natural dip in the dune landscape. You would need to be pretty close to see the flames, Dan guessed. He couldn’t see any houses, or even buildings, except the deserted holiday park and the Nature Reserve hut. It was a good spot, and one that had to have been thought out in advance. Serial killer cult flashed through his mind again.

  The forensic team waited for the go-ahead from the doctor, chatting to each other and preparing their equipment. Dan found Ben Bennett setting up his kit. ‘Sorry to drag you out on a Sunday, Ben.’

  ‘No worries, boss. You got me out of shopping for bridesmaids’ dresses with the wife and daughter. Mind you, they have got my credit card, so I'm terrified, frankly.’

  ‘She’ll soon be off your hands, then?’

  ‘Hallelujah. Last one to go, then it’ll be time for me to take it easy.’

  ‘Can’t say I blame you.’

  Dan walked carefully along the designated path, towards the site of the fire. It had burned down overnight to smoking, charred lumps of wood and ash. Possibly they had set it earlier than the last one. Six rocks were placed in a ring around the fire. Same as the previous one. Dan waited until he got the nod and approached the doctor. ‘Afternoon, Doctor.’

  A small, wiry woman with very short, dark, cropped hair, and heavy-rimmed glasses, shook his hand then led him round to where the body was in situ in the middle of the dying fire. No tide had come to wash away the evidence this time. The victim sagged across a partially burnt log, arms in boxer stance, but way too late to fight anybody. Clothes gone, flesh mostly burnt away.

  ‘I’m Kate Porter,’ she said.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ said Dan. ‘Had much experience with burns victims before?’

  ‘Enough to know that it’s a male. But there’s not a lot to go on. Fox will tell you more next week, obviously. He’ll do the PM.’

  ‘Yeah, not much left for us to look at this time,’ said Dan, shifting out of the way as the forensic team came in en masse and began the task of recording the site.

  ‘It looks bad, but there will be some skin and tissue available.’

  ‘Right.’ He tried to get closer to the smouldering embers, inching towards the heat. ‘I just want to see if he has any distinguishing marks.’

  Doctor Porter blocked his movement with her arm. ‘Actually, you’d better move back out of the way, DCI Hellier. Give people room to work. There won’t be much for you to do here today, you know, it will take ages for the heat to die down properly and we can’t do much until then.’

  ‘I could go back to my weekend, you mean? Fat chance.’

  ‘Give us a bit of space, though, eh?’

  Dan backed away and left Larcombe in charge of the scene. Bennett would make sure they got much better samples this time, and maybe they would be able to ID the victim or one of his attackers.

  He stripped off his suit and gloves, stuffed them into an evidence bag, and left them with the PC as he signed out. Then he got on his bike and pedalled back to the flat to collect his car, get changed and head into work. The team wouldn’t be happy being called back in, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about that. So much for a lazy weekend.

  * * *

  Dan sat in his office with the blind down to keep out the
low afternoon sun, and watched the hits grow on the Fire Goddess Instagram site. She’d had this set up, hadn’t she, knowing that the website would be taken down? It was such a ridiculous front page he was half convinced this was all the work of kids. Except for the bodies. But six kids could get an unconscious body into a fire, couldn’t they?

  He’d been waiting for last night’s murder pictures to be posted. There didn’t seem to be any reason why the ‘Fire Goddess’ would change her methods, and at 5.15pm, there they were. She’d used Instagram again, and no doubt every other platform she could get on. He sat up straighter and enlarged them. Two videos and two stills, more or less the same as the last lot, but with a much more immediate impact on the waiting and watching world.

  He rang through to the MI room, where Sam Knowles acknowledged the call. They were on it.

  The front desk had been inundated all week with the press on the phone and in person asking whether the first lot of pictures were fake or real, and what the police were going to do about them. He’d been tempted to tell them they were fake. Make it all go away for a while. After today, there would be no pretending that they didn’t see a pattern emerging.

  He screwed up the briefing notes he was preparing for the press conference scheduled for later in the day, threw them in the bin, and pulled a clean sheet of paper towards him. How do you calm everyone down, tell them nothing, but make them feel like they are getting a story? It was more than he was trained for.

  He didn’t raise his eyes as Chief Superintendent Oliver entered and took a seat opposite him.

  ‘Earth to DCI Hellier.’

  ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ he muttered, and closed the lid on his laptop. ‘Thanks for coming in on your weekend. I can’t stop watching, and neither can the rest of the world it would seem. How can such a ridiculous premise cause such havoc?’

  She stretched jean-clad legs in front of her and ran a hand through her bobbed hair. ‘Social media runs the world now, you know that. How long before they’re taken down?’

  He shrugged. ‘There’s no way to get these media sites to work quickly. They deliberately make it difficult for people to complain if they don’t have an account with them. I’ve got Bill Larcombe out getting a warrant signed by the magistrate – not easy on a Sunday.’ He checked his phone. ‘He should be back soon. Then we can email it to the USA and we may get them taken down later today. Then we’ll do the same for any more sites she decides to use.’

  ‘Hmm, okay. Now though, the public knows that the images are real, and it’s moved on from last week. What shall we tell them? That all this attention is messing with our case, and will they please push off and let us do our job? It’s not that they even care about some homeless guys being killed, it’s the fire cult angle that’s got them all worked up,’ she growled. ‘So frustrating. Anyway, take who you need from Team One to top up your numbers. The tactical support group is ready, and I can send in a forensic psychologist if you need one for a bit of profiling.’

  ‘Thanks, ma’am, I’ll need them all at this rate. We’re keeping quiet about it being a possible serial killer, then?’

  ‘Yes. I’m damned if I’ll say that to the public yet, although they’re all speculating. I’ve spoken to ACC Bishop, he agrees this investigation takes priority over anything else we’ve got on, but that we “play down” the connection between the two murders.’ She raised her eyebrows at him as she made quote marks with her fingers.

  ‘Play down? Right. They’re exactly the same in almost every way except location, but we play it down.’ He stared at the blank sheet of paper in front of him. ‘I should get Bishop to write this briefing.’ He threw down the pen. ‘The press aren’t idiots.’

  ‘That’s why I’m here, and press liaison will be in before the end of the day, now that we’ve located her. Let’s work on it together. I reckon we’ve got an hour before the hammering at the door becomes too much to avoid.’

  They both turned at an actual knock on the office door. Sam Knowles stood outside, his tall shadow looming.

  ‘Come in, Sam,’ Dan called.

  Knowles hovered in the doorway. ‘Sorry to interrupt. I’ve contacted the host site and they’ve given me the name of the account holder – a Conor Reilly.’ He flushed as both senior officers cheered. ‘It doesn’t mean we’ve got the murderer, though, just whoever started the website.’

  ‘Still, that’s great news. Right, get off everything else and focus on getting us some contact details.’ Dan grinned as his junior officer left the room. ‘They might think they’re clever, but let’s see them wriggle out of this.’

  Oliver looked more serious. ‘We’ll see. At least I can tell the press we have a genuine lead at last.’

  17

  By 7pm on Sunday evening, the whole team had been rounded up and were gathered around the screen in the MI room looking at the images. The room was stuffy, with Dan’s own team, the press liaison woman, three civilian researchers, and the duty DI present.

  ‘Sorry to cancel your weekend, everyone, but we have a lead and this may kick off quickly. Sam, put the pictures on the large screen and get all eight up at the same time, please.’

  Dan waited until the shuffling had settled and the officers could all see the screen. ‘There is less blurring, and better focus this time,’ he began.

  ‘You can see the guy being thrown on the bonfire in that one. Gross,’ said Adam Foster. ‘These are amazing,’ he added, leaning in for a closer look.

  Dan glared at the younger officer. ‘You finding all this exciting, Foster?’

  Foster shrank back into his seat. ‘You have to admit it’s pretty bizarre, sir,’ he said.

  ‘Can’t argue with you there. And aimed at kids and other thrill seekers on the net.’ He looked out, over Foster’s head, at the darkening sky. Was that where they were really heading? Kids?

  ‘Young people,’ said Sally, ‘kids who are on their phones the whole time; students.’

  ‘Yeah, they’ll be lapping this up.’

  ‘As the pictures are clearer, are they more confident this time?’ offered Lizzie Singh. ‘Because they got away with it once?’

  ‘Yes, could be. Better use of the camera, certainly. Or less worried about being seen, and therefore less hurried,’ said Dan. ‘The location of this one was deep into the dunes at Dawlish Warren – a much more difficult place to spot a fire.’

  ‘They must know there’ll be lots more forensic evidence without the tide washing it away.’

  ‘I know, Lizzie. Why take so much care on the first one, and so little on the second?’

  ‘Maybe this is the last one?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Sally pushed her reading glasses down her nose and peered over the top of them. ‘I can count four people over the four pictures, meaning the photographer is the fifth, and the vic is number six.’

  ‘Exactly the same MO as the last one,’ agreed Dan. ‘Single male victim. No information about how he was incapacitated yet, but I’ll bet my breakfast he was hit over the head with a rock.’

  ‘Have we got a serial killer, boss?’ Adam Foster’s eyes grew round. ‘Wow.’

  ‘Serial killers,’ corrected Sam Knowles. ‘They’re all as guilty as each other.’

  ‘Even more wow,’ said Adam.

  Dan avoided rolling his eyes. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, lads, but until there are at least three deaths, it isn’t a serial killer according to the ACC. Okay? Back to the pictures. What else can you see?’

  ‘The faces aren’t as well disguised. Not as much make-up this time, boss,’ said Sam. ‘I may be able to get the face recognition software to analyse these more closely than the other set.’

  ‘Do it,’ said Dan. ‘This investigation takes priority over anything else they’ve got on.’

  ‘Very little to see regarding their clothes,’ said Lizzie. ‘Bit tatty, bit hippy. Students? There was that one with the guitar and long coat in the first set of pics.’

  ‘Good, that’s what I’ve been t
hinking, too. This could well be the work of a group of young people, possibly students. That’s your line of enquiry. Get down to the university tomorrow and see what you can find out. Take Foster.’

  Foster’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘I know there are thousands of students there, Adam. They’ll all be talking about this, won’t they? Just see what jumps out at you, okay? I’ll be there anyway to see the professor of Ancient Religions, if I can find his name. He might be able to help us narrow it down a bit.’ He riffled through his notebook and placed his finger in the page with the professor’s name on it.

  ‘Okay, currently, Sergeant Bennett is still at the scene with Dawlish police, and forensics are all over the site. The good news is that it was dry last night and the sea is too distant to wash away all our evidence, so I have high hopes for DNA this time – from the bottles and food cartons. And … DC Knowles has discovered the name of the website account holder.’

  Sam grinned, jumped up and wrote the name Conor Reilly on the whiteboard, taking a bow at the smattering of applause.

  ‘So, we have a direct line of enquiry at last. Let me know as soon as he answers his phone, Sam.’

  He took a moment to watch the small image of a woman being consumed by fire in the bottom corner of the screen, and willed it out of existence. What were they playing at? Why was it taking so long to stop it? ‘As soon as that account is taken down, it’ll go bonkers round here,’ he said. ‘There will be no possibility that these pictures are a hoax.

  ‘We all have to be clear that no one, except Chief Superintendent Oliver or me, talks to the media. Sergeant Ellis will do liaison with the local press, and I’m hoping that might have a positive effect on the usual sniping we have to dodge. Okay?’ He scrutinised the team. They looked with it – at least for a Sunday night.

  ‘Right, let’s divvy up the jobs and crack on.’

  As he spoke, Bill Larcombe opened the door and waved at him. ‘Warrant sort of served, boss, and the account should be closing any minute. Much more cooperative than the other lot, I must say.’