Above Suspicion (29 page)

‘It means nothing,’ he interrupted. ‘Not without proof it was his car, proof he was driving it and proof that whoever killed her was the driver. It is all circumstantial. It would never even get to trial. If it did and he walked, it would be over. We’d never be able to get him back. That’s the bloody law.’

‘Is the profiler coming tomorrow?’

‘Yeah, he’s coming.’

‘See you tomorrow, then.’

‘Yeah, tomorrow and tomorrow.’

Once she was home, Anna took a couple of aspirin. She felt really awful. Perhaps if they had good news, she would have felt better. All she wanted was to go to bed and sleep it off. She checked her answerphone, remembering to press ‘replay’ for any calls that had come in when she was away. When the electronic voice informed her that the last caller had withheld their number, she deleted everything.

She went back to the kitchen and picked up a pair of rubber gloves. She took the photo frame from her bedroom and, turning it over, eased back the small clips. She had decided to take the photograph out of the frame, then wrap the materials in a plastic bag for the lab, taking care not to touch the silver surrounds. She carefully placed the glass and frame in the bag and put it in her briefcase.

This particular photograph had been on her mother’s bedside table for years, making it the first thing she saw in the morning and the last thing at night. Curious, Anna drew closer: stuck between the photograph and the backing was an envelope. She got into bed before opening it.

She recognized her father’s handwriting. On the front of the envelope he had written ‘To My Beloved’. Inside, there was a single sheet of writing in his neat and closely written hand.

Bella mia,

I cannot make what happened into something as simple as a bad dream. If I could, I would. I know how it affects you and rules the way you are. I love you with an unconditional love that accepts whatever you can give me. But I am nevertheless concerned. By allowing your fears to rule your existence, you are making the animal a constant presence. To walk outside the fear will make you stronger. I beg you to let me help you. Bella, you are too perfect, too beautiful to make this home a prison, albeit one filled with your sweetness and your darling soul.

I love you. Papa.

Papa was the name Anna’s mother always used for her husband. Anna reread the letter, confused. It seemed like a letter of encouragement to a victim, but she had no idea about what it referred to. There was no date. She folded it and slipped it beneath her pillow, but she kept on seeing the neat, slanted handwriting and the word ‘animal’. She tossed and turned, wondering if something terrible had happened to her mother.

The phone rang. It took Anna a few moments to sit up in the dark and find it.

‘Anna,’ the soft voice breathed.

‘Yes.’ This time she knew exactly who it was.

‘Welcome back.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Did you have a good trip to Manchester?’ he asked.

‘Yes, yes I did.’

‘But you didn’t go to Manchester, did you?’

She felt her body tense.

‘I called the station. I was told you were in the States.’

‘Yes, yes I was. It was very unexpected.’

‘Did you have a nice time?’

‘Yes.’

‘Whereabouts in the States did you go?’

Her hand felt clammy, from holding the receiver too tightly. ‘It’s very late, Alan; I’m just going to bed.’

‘Late?’ he said, teasingly. ‘It’s only ten o’clock.’

‘I know, but I’m very tired. What do you want?’

‘I’ve got tickets for the ballet again. You said you liked the ballet, so when I was given them, I immediately thought of you. It’s Giselle.’

‘Oh. When are the tickets for?’

‘This Thursday, at Covent Garden. Are you free?’

‘Can I get back to you, Alan? Just in case I’m on night duty. I haven’t got my schedule yet.’

‘Well, don’t leave it too long.’

‘I’ll call you tomorrow. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, Anna.’

She took slow, deep breaths and slipped her hand beneath the pillow to touch her father’s letter”. It had been written to comfort her mother, but it now calmed her. She climbed out of bed and checked the windows, then bolted the front door. As she did so, she had a flashback to her childhood home. There were a number of locks on their front and back door, window locks, security alarms. Had someone frightened her mother? Was that why she had been so cautious all her life?

Anna became certain that something had invaded her family home. The ‘animal’ her father had described had made her mother a prisoner. As she recalled her day-to-day interactions with her parents, Anna realized that her mother hardly ever left the house; never on her own and only occasionally with her husband. It was Anna’s father who came to the gymkhanas. Always him. She turned to look at his picture. For a second, she had forgotten that she had taken it from its frame because she thought it had been touched by strange hands inside her house.

Remembering, she felt no fear; in fact the reverse. She was angry that she had allowed Alan Daniels to unnerve her not once, but twice. If he had some sick plan to frighten and stalk her, then he had chosen the wrong target.

Chapter Thirteen

‘I’ve asked my neighbours,’ Anna said. ‘No one saw anyone loitering around the block of flats, the garage, or on my floor.’

Langton nodded, lips pursed.

‘I could be mistaken, but I thought we should have it dusted for fingerprints just in case.’

He rocked back in his chair. Anna was wearing a new shirt, tight black skirt and new shoes. The plastic bag containing the picture frame was on her knee. She looked good; he knew he didn’t. But she also seemed different, more positive.

‘So you’re agreeing to go out with him?’

‘Yes. I think we should grab at anything we can.’

‘Well, as long as he doesn’t make a grab at you.’

‘I can deal with him,’ she said. ‘Of course, I’d be wired and I could - could I?’ - she hesitated - ‘Could I have a small hidden camera?’

He laughed. ‘Travis, with such a high-profile case, I don’t see why the Met wouldn’t get you an entire film crew!’

She looked momentarily confused.

Langton’s face became serious. ‘There can be no camera, no wire. It would be too dangerous for you if he realized he was being monitored. Also, we can’t make this look like entrapment. If we filmed him, it couldn’t be used in a court; likewise any tapes we made. It sounds good, but it only works in films, not real life. Speaking of which, you have to be very careful, Anna. You must not place yourself in any danger. No going back to his place, do you hear me? Keep it out in the open.’

She passed him the photo frame. ‘I’ll get his prints when we’re at the ballet.’

He shook his head. ‘No, you won’t. You’ve been watching too much Murder, She Wrote. Just leave that bit to us.’ Lewis tapped on the door and came straight in. He said their profiler had watched Alan Daniels’s interview three times and was ready to discuss it.

The remainder of the team had gathered in the incident room. The room fell silent, as Michael Parks moved slowly from one victim’s photograph to the next, before turning to face his audience.

‘I could be wrong. My earliest impression was that we were dealing with a psychopath. If you’ve got the right suspect, the killer is not a serial psychopath. After watching him on the video, I am convinced that Alan Daniels is a sociopath. It’s not much different clinically and it’s a no less dangerous breed, but in my experience, sociopaths are by far more cunning, intelligent and personable than psychopaths. They also don’t experience fear. They are exceptionally dangerous because their destructiveness is not easily recognized and their talents often bring them admiration, unfortunately.’

Parks stood in front of the flip chart with a thick black felt-tip pen. ‘I say unfortunately, because sociopaths are intrinsically evil.’ He started to make a long list. ‘If a suspect has demonstrated these symptoms, then you can be pretty sure he is a sociopath.’

Parks wrote in large block print:

1. Is he self-centred and egocentric?

‘From watching the tape of the Chicago interview, I would say without doubt.’

2. Does he manipulate others by reading very quickly their vulnerabilities?

He tapped the page with his pen. ‘I would say yes. Did you notice that his interviewer was nervous? He put her at her ease by displaying shyness himself, letting her feel she was the one in control. Very quickly, he had her in the palm of his hand.’

3. Does he feel little guilt, shame or remorse? Is he capable of weaving a web of lies and deceit? Above all, does he feel impervious to discovery?

Langton met Anna’s eyes. They both knew this was correct. Parks now marked up number four.

4. Does he have a superficial charm: does he relate well with other people at a superficial level?

Parks tapped his pen again. ‘Your suspect is an actor. What better profession?’ Langton leaned forward, frowning. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. ‘Watch the videotape again,’ Parks went on. ‘Look at the way he uses his charm. Watch how he even manages to manipulate the audience.’ He turned back to the board.

5. Is he able to love? Or to demonstrate long-term loyalty? Can he feel normal human empathy? Can he possess deep affection for others?

‘A sociopath only pretends to have those feelings. I can assure you, they are false.’

Langton thought about how Alan Daniels had refused to use the word ‘mother’ and how he refused to acknowledge his foster mother. Anna found herself agreeing with everything the profiler said. It all fit Alan Daniels.

6. Does he have an attitude of superiority and an inflated arrogant self-appraisal?

‘Did you notice at the end of the interview, how he almost gives a royal wave, with that slight bow of his head?’

‘Fuck,’ muttered Langton. ‘I hadn’t picked that up at all.’

7. Does he use others? Is he a cheat? A liar? Does he lie for the pleasure of it, as well as for what he can get out of his lies?

Anna was writing furiously in her notebook.

8. Does he pursue instant gratification? Does he use others for his own self-aggrandizement?

Langton whispered to Anna, ‘Buys a new car every six months!’

She nodded and whispered back: ‘What about the furniture in his flat?’

9. Has he demonstrated radical mood swings, such as from amicable to angry? Maybe even displaying a trace of violence?

Parks turned over the page to start on a new sheet.

‘Now, it seems your suspect is not married and never has been. He appears to have had few long-term relationships. This is another symptom.’

10. Few close friends. Frequently unsettled and agitated. Does not like to be alone. Becomes agitated in his own company.

Mike Lewis shook his head. He brought up the fact they had all seen numerous photographs of Daniels surrounded by friends. Could they all have been just work colleagues?

Parks removed his jacket, which showed sweat stains under his armpits and continued, ‘Most sociopaths not only have superior intelligence, they are remorseless egocentrics. To them, people are only objects to be manipulated. If they do have a relationship, it is a very exploitative one. Do you understand? To them, people exist only to meet their needs. To them, a person is not a separate human being. He or she is just a means to an end.’

Langton put his hand up. ‘What about sex?’

Parks stared at him. ‘Go on.’

‘Well, these murders were sexual: rape and sodomy.’

The profiler sucked in his breath. ‘Indeed. OK. While a sociopath can enjoy lustful sex, it’s never sex with any real intimacy. They are incapable of falling in love. Nor do they feel commitment: people are like Kleenex to them, easily discarded.’

‘Are they as inclined to kill as a psychopath would be?’ Barolli asked.

Parks nodded. ‘Yes. There are, however, two types of sociopath. One is a passive predator: the type that can con an elderly woman out of her pension and steal from a cripple. They have little remorse and can be just as callous, but the passive sociopath rarely kills. It is the aggressive sociopath that is the most dangerous. They show a complete lack of remorse and have the ability to depersonalize their victims. The victim is just another object.’

Anna lifted her hand. ‘The suspect has not shown himself to be very aggressive; quite the opposite, in fact.’

Parks nodded again. ‘Good point. However, you must understand that this aggression is very much under control. Though you may not have seen it, it’s there; when it surfaces - he kills.’

Parks walked along the gallery of victims, tapping each photograph with his pen. ‘There will exist a reason for choosing these sad women, a hatred already in place. But with this young girl, Melissa …’ He stared at her picture. ‘He seems to have made a mistake. She was in the red-light area. She was blonde with brown eyes. Even so, he didn’t control himself. Probably he thought: “What the hell? I’ll kill her, too.” It is as emotionless as that. That is not to say that his method of killing up until then had not been calculated.’

Anna passed her notebook to Langton, indicating something she had written. He handed it back, nodding his agreement. Anna had speculated that the fact that a nice girl like Melissa had climbed into Daniels’s car - a fact which had been confusing, not only to the police, but to her own family - was understandable if she recognized him.

When Parks broke up the meeting, many of the team gathered around him to ask more questions. There was an undercurrent of tension in the incident room: Alan Daniels had regained prime-suspect status. There was an adrenalin rush, as if the hunt was closing in on the killer.

Anna waited for Langton in his office. As he shut the door, he whistled: ‘I take back what I said about him. This time he pulled out all the stops.’

‘He had more to work with, too. That probably helped.’ Anna checked her watch. ‘I should make that call.’

‘Yeah, I know. I’ve asked Parks if you and he could have a private talk in here. He can guide you through what you should say and how you should say it. But we have to be really careful this doesn’t come over as entrapment.’