Chapter Seven

James ground his teeth together, insisting he and Chad wait for another ten minutes. Lucy had left with Lynn's arm around her shoulders, sobbing softly into her hands.

"We can't go outside yet," James muttered. "If we go out now everyone will assume we got nothing."

"We did get nothing."

James had been too busy unleashing his frustrations on Lucy to notice Vincent's focus change to laser intensity, zeroing in on Chad.

"What the hell was he on about? Broken promises?"

Chad bit his tongue.

The door opened on a red cheeked Lynn. She glowered at James. "I hope you're happy with yourself. That woman is in bits."

"You don't know anything about that woman."

"Vincent isn't coming back any time soon," Lynn pinned the door open with her foot. "There's no reason for you to stay."

"There's every reason. If we walk out of here now, every news channel will replay footage of us leaving fifteen minutes after stepping inside. It won't look good."

"Lucy has gone home."

"What?" James sprung to his feet, before wincing, and slapping his hand to his lower back. "What do you mean she's gone?"

"I mean, I gave the poor woman her stuff back and let her go. You may be a seasoned detective and used to confronting men like Vincent, but she isn't. That man murdered her sister, and you showed him a picture of Harriet without warning her—"

"To jog his memory. That's why we're here," James said. He'd placed the photograph face down on the table after Vincent had left, but picked it up, and looked down at Harriet. His hand shook, and Chad realized it wasn't a photograph he held, but a poster with a black and white printed picture of Harriet.

He'd only caught a glimpse of it when James had pressed it against the glass, but now he could see it, folded over, Harriet's picture on one side, and a description of her on the other. Stains and tears marred the page, and the thick crease line where James had folded it teased breaking in two.

James slipped it back into his breast pocket without a word.

"Beautiful." Chad whispered.

"She was," James nodded. "So beautiful. Lucy was jealous of that. The attention Harriet got."

"Attention from you?"

James gave him a hard look, then walked out. Lynn held her breath as he passed, before letting it out in a slow sigh.

"Charming, that one." Lynn muttered.

Chad got to his feet, tucked all three chairs beneath the table, then left. Lynn locked the door behind him.

"How long have you worked here?" Chad asked.

"Ten years."

"And has Vincent ever mentioned Harriet to you in that time?"

Lynn shook her head. "Not once."

Romeo's voice kept floating through his head.

Vincent Whitehall didn't kill Harriet Hastings.

"Do you think you could so something for me?"

"Depends on what it is?"

"Can you compile me a list of all Vincent's visitors, all his contacts, phone and address."

Lynn looked away. "I could try."

"Try?"

"The system has just been updated from paper to electronic, it's all a bit of a mess. It … it might take some time."

"Time is something I don't have."

Lynn nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Chad said before jogging outside to catch up with James. Chad caught up with him, frowning at the over-the-top smile he received.

"At least make it seem positive," James hissed.

Chad climbed into the passenger side refusing to smile and bob his head like a puppet. They drove in silence back to the station, but James kept the fake smile plastered on his face, just in case a journalist sneaked a picture of their car.

"As soon as Vincent is ready to talk again, we're going back there." James shot him a glare. "Doesn't matter what time of day or night. You will be there, Chad."

"Thanks for the ride back to Bardhum." Chad said, before climbing out of the car.

Voices hurled questions in his direction, but there were fewer than when he'd first arrived at the station that morning. Chad hurried inside, jogged up the steps to the incident room and strolled inside with his eyes locked on the DI's office. Josh and Ally weren't there, but Faye looked up from her desk. Her jaw hung as she thought of something to say, but Chad didn't give her a chance to recover.

He strode straight into the DI's office without knocking.

The DI jumped in his seat, dropping his file into his lap.

"Chad—"

"I need everything we have on the Whitehall murders."

"What?"

"I'm not happy with this … arrangement, but the least I can do is be prepared. I need your help on this."

"I don't know if it's wise for you to pull on this thread…"

"Why?"

The DI's face scrunched. "There are things…"

"What things?"

"Chad…"

The DI glanced out of his office window. Faye watched them, picking nervously at her lip.

"Tell me."

"I can't."

The DI's eyes darted back and forth across the desk. "Look, I'll get you what I can from the archive, but I can't get you everything…"

****

Chad flipped the lid of the trunk and grabbed the first shoe box of folders. He opened the front door with his elbow before depositing the box on the floor. Merc waggled out from the kitchen, beaming a smile.

Chad gave him a quick pat on the head, then went out for the next lot of boxes. The DI had given him a trolley full of folders and files about the Whitehall Murders.

Romeo folded his arms, watching from the kitchen doorway. Merc sat at his feet, tilting his head as Chad heaved for breath, bracing against the stack.

"What happened?" Romeo asked.

"Not much. Vincent felt unwell and had to leave, but he mentioned the promise I broke."

"And these are…" Romeo nodded towards the leaning tower.

"Files relating to the Whitehall murders, and that big thick red folder," Chad gestured to the one sandwiched between the boxes. It was the only red folder, the rest were beige. "Is all documentation relating to Harriet's disappearance."

Romeo nodded. "That's a lot to go through."

"I'm sure we can handle it."

"We?"

Chad looked over to him. A slow smile spread Romeo's lips. His eyes crinkled, as he repeated a softer, "we" beneath his breath.

"You don't think Vincent killed her, so first things first, you've got to convince me he didn't. Then we find out who did."

Chad patted the pile.

"I like the sound of this we." Romeo nodded. He absentmindedly reached down to stroke Merc on the head.

"Since I've now been assigned to the reopening of the Whitehall case there's no need for me to drive into the station every day. I'm only needed when Vincent is well enough to talk to us or the superintendent summons me to Alborough, and the rest of the time I'm free to do research at home as long as I keep James in the loop."

Romeo's smile grew impossibly bigger.

"And I want to start as soon as possible."

"After dinner."

Chad opened his mouth to protest, but Romeo cut in, "I'm not taking no for an answer. We eat first, then we find this killer. Together."

****

"These are facts," Chad started gesturing to the Vincent on the whiteboard. "Harriet Hastings went missing on the 18th of April 1983. The last person to see her alive—"

"Other than the killer," Romeo interrupted with a smug smile.

Chad rolled his eyes. "Other than the killer, is James Poole, who cautioned Harriet in his police car for possession of class B drug beside Melbourn Spring. He let her go and observed her walking down the A503 which is in the direction of her home, Hastings Farm."

"It's a three mile walk from Melbourn Spring." Romeo mumbled. "A bit presumptuous to assume she was walking home, don't you think?"

"Where do you think she was going?"

Romeo shrugged, and Chad continued.

"Harriet was reported missing the next day by her father at 12:30. He believed Harriet was staying with a friend that night which wasn't uncommon and only when he called to see what time she'd be home for lunch, did he find out she wasn't there."

"Who was on the farm at the time?"

"Lucy and Michael, their father. Eileen was away visiting her sister that night. Both Michael and Eileen made a public appeal for information on their daughter's whereabouts at 2:00 PM. Nine months later, at 1:00 PM on December 11th 1983, Vincent was arrested on suspicion of murder after an alleged victim escaped his home. He admitted to nine murders, including Harriet's, and was able to give detectives a timeline of his crimes." Chad gestured to the red folder. "Harriet is victim number seven, murdered one month after Kelly Price and four months before Trisha Link. Vincent claimed he was driving along the A503 when he saw Harriet walking in the opposite direction. He turned around, drove up behind her and offered her a lift home. She accepted."

Romeo tutted. "Knowing there was an active serial killer on the loose."

"Comments at this time are unnecessary," Chad said, raising his eyebrow. "And irritating."

Romeo mimed zipping his mouth shut.

"Vincent claims to have suffocated her in his car before driving her back to his house to perform his ritualistic dissections, ending in mutilation, just like his other victims. Blood was found in his van, said to be Harriet's."

Romeo snorted. Chad raised his eyebrow in warning, and Romeo lifted his hands in surrender.

"No piece or parts of Harriet have ever been discovered, with Vincent stating no one had been lucky enough to find her yet. Harriet is special according to him, hidden away for only him to uncover if he so chooses."

"And now that he's dying, he's claiming it's about time to reveal her hiding place or places, but there's a catch… Vincent's flagging memory and a limit on his heartbeats." Romeo hummed. "He's making a spectacle out of his crimes right to the end. A true professional."

"A professional … serial killer?"

Romeo nodded. "Have you finished?"

Chad glanced at the whiteboard. It only had three print outs. One black and white image of Harriet, Vincent Whitehall's grainy, washed-out mugshot, and a picture of James Poole taken from his social media page.

"Yeah … for now."

Romeo shot to his feet and gestured to his chair. "Sit."

Chad said down, frowning as Romeo brimmed over with energy. It vibrated through him.

"When you work with the facts, you only see half of the picture."

"They're backed up by evidence. That's what gets a conviction—"

"Hey," Romeo wagged a finger. "No interruptions, please."

Chad folded his arms and leaned back in the chair.

"Strip this disappearance back and what do you know. Harriet didn't arrive home. That is the only fact you have. The rest comes from Vincent, caught nine months later, he admits to killing her. Vincent, who, thanks to the public appeal, knew the time of Harriet's last sighting, what road she was walking along and what she looked like."

Chad's frown tightened as he thought back to James's poster. All the information had been there. Slim build. Five foot six. Long brown hair. Brown eyes. Pearl drop necklace. Red coat. Walking along the A503.

"The blood in his van." Chad said.

Romeo eyes shone. "He said some of it was Harriet's, but no tests were done. DNA testing on blood as we know it began in 1985, Harriet was supposedly killed in ‘83. No tests were done. There's no proof any of it was hers."

"There's no proof it wasn't either."

"From what I read, Vincent has a meticulous eye for detail. He lives and breathes his kills when he retells them from the smells to the sounds. I understand the need for that recollection."

Chad looked away.

"The need to see and smell and taste, and feel it all over again. Of course, merely thinking about it never scratches the itch, it circles it, makes it worse…"

Chad looked up, only to regret it when Romeo held his hands out in front of himself and curled his fingers. Romeo swallowed hard, staring at his hands.

"Even now, I remember the details, and I always found it curious that Vincent could recall such interesting things about the other women, but not this one. He was vague, and he hid the vagueness behind this idea Harriet was special to him because no one had discovered her yet, but I think that vagueness comes from him having no idea where she is. He's taken responsibly for someone else, or for an accident, or possibly even Harriet deciding to leave herself."

"I can't prove he had nothing to do with her disappearance from the lack of detail in his testimony. He, an active serial killer targeting young women, admitted to her murder. I need something concrete to prove he didn't do it. I need the killer, or I need proof that Harriet is alive."

"Then we'd better get started."

Romeo glanced over to the stack of boxes Chad had moved from the hallway into the outhouse. He stroked his fingers, eyeing the boxes. "I'm half tempted to dive right in and read Harriet's file first, but something tells me we need to start from the beginning. We need to start from his first victim, Debbie Ark."

Chad grimaced at the almost bounce in Romeo's step as he took off across the room to grab the first box. He flipped the lid, sorted through the folders before selecting one labeled transcribes.

He returned to Chad and squeezed his shoulder.

"Transcribes of the interviews," Romeo said. "We could read them if you like, role play, you can be the detectives conducting the interview and I can be Vincent."

"No, thanks," Chad said, taking the file from his hand. He flipped it open.

The two detectives leading the case were DI Mathews and DI Sterling. Chad knew they were both deceased. The date of the interview was at the top, the 13th of December 1983, and the time, 1400, was next to it. Vincent Whitehall was named as the accused.

Vincent had declined a lawyer, and before Mathews had even asked a question, Vincent interrupted.

‘When Debbie tapped on my window asking for help from Mr. Whitehall, I couldn't stop myself…'