Two for Joy - Louise Collins Page 0,33
leaned against his bars, trying to see out. “No idea.”
He heard footsteps coming down the corridor. More than two sets. Romeo didn’t recognize the men that came up to his cell.
“Back up, then put your arms through.”
“Can I at least put some clothes on?”
“Make it quick.”
Romeo climbed into an orange jumpsuit, then backed up to the bars. The man snapped cuffs on him, then ordered him to walk forward. As soon as his cell was open, the two officers came inside and grabbed him.
“What the hell is going on?”
They didn’t answer, only tightened their grip on his forearms. It was too early for prisoners to blow him kisses, or flirt with him, but Justin still threatened to cave Romeo’s head in as they passed by.
He was taken to the visiting room, shoved down on the chair, then left. He heard them lock his door, and all he could do was wait, and shoot puzzled looks at the camera in the ceiling.
The door to the opposite room opened. The DI strolled into the room, then sat down in front of Romeo. The folder was triple the width it had been the last time he visited.
“Has the Copycat Killer got their number two?”
“No.”
“Not yet.” Romeo said. “It’s still too soon.”
“He won’t get that far. I’ve got officers searching your cell as we speak.”
“They won’t find anything of interest.”
Romeo looked expectantly at the door, waiting for Chad to reveal himself, but he didn’t come into the room. Instead, Gareth stepped inside, dragging a chair.
Romeo saw the fading mark on his lip from where Chad had hit him. Gareth noticed, and prodded the faint line.
“Don’t ever hit him again.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Gareth dropped his hand down onto the table. “He hit me first.”
“I don’t care. You touch him again…”
“And you’ll what?”
The DI unwound the string on the file, then slipped something out. He turned the small square over, then held it up to Romeo.
“Is this you?”
He stared at the picture. Him with a terrible haircut, grinning, with a magpie on his hand. He’d shown the picture to Chad in the farmhouse, revealing it to him had made him happy. If Romeo was honest with himself, he would’ve said sharing it with Chad made him happy, too.
“Yes. That’s me.”
The DI let out a slow breath, then slipped it back into the folder.
“The photograph of you and the magpie was found at Chad’s address. Did you send it to him?”
Romeo frowned. “No. The last place I saw the photograph was in the farmhouse. It was by the fire when you all came crashing in.”
“The farmhouse was searched, items of interest were taken, but this photograph wasn’t documented, it wasn’t recorded. Chad took it. Why would he do that?”
“Why not ask him?”
“I’m asking you.”
“Maybe he wanted a memento of our time together.”
Gareth leaned back in his chair. “What’s the significance of the magpie?”
“There is none, it’s just a magpie.”
Gareth and the DI shared a look.
“It wasn’t all we recovered from Chad’s address.”
“Why have you been going through Chad’s things?”
The DI ignored him and carried on. “The front pages of the Canster Times were pinned to his living room wall, and a mattress was on the floor.”
Romeo’s heart pinched, and he swallowed hard. “And?”
“It’s obsessive.” Gareth said. “Not normal behavior for someone captured by a serial killer. To recreate the living conditions.”
“He misses me.”
“I think he more than misses you. I think he’s turned into you.”
“What?”
“You fucked with Chad’s head and turned him into a monster.”
“A monster? Chad’s not a monster.” He looked at the DI. “Wait… He’s not your copycat if that’s where this is going. Chad is still a good person.”
The DI went to speak, but Gareth got there first.
“No, not anymore.”
“Gareth, I’m leading this investigation, understand?” the DI said.
“Yes, sir.”
Romeo grinned at Gareth. “Good boy.”
“Swear to god if this barrier wasn’t here—”
“I’d have laid you out for hitting Chad, and then I would’ve strangled you.”
“With your hands connected to your ass, I don’t think so.”
“Enough!” the DI said. “We’re here to talk about—”
“The Copycat Killer, the one mimicking my crime. Very obviously not Chad.”
“We found the picture of you and the magpie at Chad’s address.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“He visits you every week.”
“Am I not allowed visitors?”
The DI gestured to the camera in the corner of the room. “We’ve had a specialist go over your visits.”
“A specialist?”
“Body language, lip reading. You send messages to each other. There’s an obsession there, and we know the killer is obsessed. The feather, the strangulation technique, the cigar is the same