Two for Joy - Louise Collins Page 0,44
her files and notes. We’ve got techs going through it, seeing if the laptop was used on the day of the break in, seeing if the documents had been saved to an external hard drive.”
Romeo nodded. “The killer must be someone who knew Holly was writing about me. It must be someone at the Canster Times.”
“Holly’s been very open about writing an article on you. She’s posted about it on her social media accounts for months.”
Zac opened a folder, flashing Romeo a glimpse of Holly’s social media pages. She wanted everyone to know she was visiting him, had marked her territory over the internet.
“The break ins, whoever did it knew about the break ins, knew to use them as a cover.”
“The break ins are local news. The whole town knows about them.”
“Okay,” Romeo said, bracing his hands on the table. “The copycat’s eager, he doesn’t wait two months like me, but one. That means we’ve got a month to find Chad.”
Gareth and the DI shared an uneasy look. Romeo frowned, even Zac didn’t understand the look by his puzzled expression.
“What?” Romeo asked.
Gareth unwound the string on the file in front of him, took a deep breath, then opened the folder. He slid a photograph across the table to Romeo.
“We need to show you something.” The DI said.
Gareth pointed at the photograph he’d just revealed. “Steven Vole, also known as the man who electrocuted himself in the bedroom. We saw the five on his chest, didn’t want the public to descend into mad panic.”
Romeo looked at the picture of Steven on the bed, eyes closed, arms and legs spread out, dark purple bruise on his neck. Neat number five burned into his skin. It didn’t look too different to how he left his victims. Gareth slid another photograph on top.
“James Clerk, number four.”
He was spread out on the bed, four on his chest, dark bruise around his neck, but that wasn’t the only bruise. He had them on his abdomen, ranging from green, to reddish brown.
“You said you thought the killer was angry … frustrated … he was taking it out on their bodies before he killed them.”
No one answered, Gareth slid Romeo another picture. “Cassy Price.”
She was on the bed, a three burned on her chest. Bruising around her neck, bruises on her body, but also, blood. There were cuts, slices, nicks, small, but many.
Romeo looked up at the DI. “What’s he using?”
“Something small, sharp, precise, something designed to cut flesh. Most likely a scalpel.”
Gareth took a deep breath, then handed Romeo the final photograph. One that must’ve been taken that morning.
Number two.
She’d been laid out on the bed, her number clear to see. No bruises, lots of slices, cuts, nicks, they looked fresh, some of them looked deep, but most shocking of all was her throat. She hadn’t been strangled; her throat had been slit.
“We don’t class him as a copycat.” The DI said. “He’s been inspired by you, idolizes you, but he’s been experimenting, finding his own style. He does this to them while they’re helpless, over the course of a few hours, then he kills them.”
Gareth swallowed. “He’s favored the scalpel over his hands.”
“He’s got Chad…” Romeo whispered. “And if he waits a month…it’s a month for him to do this to Chad. To torture him. Then he’s gonna…”
He couldn’t say it, he shook his head. He’d never been bothered by blood, the smell, the sight, even the taste. He wasn’t affected by the pictures in front of him, the victims bruised, burned, and bloody, but when he thought of Chad like that.
When he thought of him drugged, sliced, then slit, he got up, moved, braced his hand on his knees, and panted at the ground. He was not going to pass out, and he was not going to be sick. He repeated both in his head until he started to believe it.
When he finally got himself together, he looked up, and saw Zac, Gareth and the DI all on their feet. They’d all backed away, Zac holding a can of what Romeo suspected was pepper-spray, Gareth with his baton, and the DI clutching his radio, ready to demand back up.
“Relax.” Romeo said. “My need is on hold. You’re the only chance of saving Chad. I’m not gonna kill you.”
His words were meant to be reassuring, but they didn’t sit back down. They stayed on their feet and waited until Romeo staggered back to his chair. He spread all the photographs out. The progression of the killer’s