The Stranger You Know Read Free Page B

I added silently.
    ‘Makes me wonder why you’re being left out of the big investigation.’
    ‘What investigation?’ I looked at Godley, whose face was like stone.
    ‘Josh. That’s enough.’
    ‘It just doesn’t seem fair of you to shut out Kerrigan. She hasn’t done anything wrong.’
    ‘That’s not what’s going on and you know it.’ Godley stepped back into his office. ‘Come in here and shut the door, Josh.’
    Derwent was flipping through the newspaper again. He flattened it out on a double-page spread near the centre and with a flick of his wrist sent it spinning towards me. It landed by my feet. ‘Have a read of that, Kerrigan. It’s as close as you’re going to get.’
    I picked it up. The headline screamed: S ERIAL K ILLER T ARGETING L ONDON ’ S S INGLES . Most of the space below was taken up with pictures of two young women. One had red hair to her shoulders; the other was dark and had short hair. She was huge-eyed and delicate, while the redhead was a stunner with a full mouth and slanting green eyes. Both were slim, both attractive. And dead. My eye fell on a pull quote in bold type: ‘They lived alone. No one heard their cries for help.’ And then, on the opposite page: ‘Mutilated and murdered’.
    ‘It’s not our case,’ Godley said, to me. ‘I’ve been asked to put together a task force in case they turn out to be connected, but I’m working with the local murder teams and they’re still officially investigating them. The victims didn’t know one another. They lived in different areas. The first woman died in January. The second was two months ago. This article is just speculation.’
    I appreciated the explanation but it wasn’t really aimed at me. Nor was Derwent really complaining about me being left out. He wasn’t the type to care. He was absolutely the type to make use of a subordinate to get at his boss, though, and he wasn’t finished.
    ‘Oh, come on. Of course they’re connected.’ Derwent leaned over and snatched the paper back, flattening it out so he could read aloud: ‘“Both Kirsty Campbell and Maxine Willoughby lived alone. They worked within two miles of one another in central London. Friends describe both of them as bubbly and outgoing, but unlucky in love – Maxine had never found the right person, while Kirsty had recently broken off her engagement to her fiancé, Stephen Reeves (28). He describes himself as ‘heartbroken’ on the Facebook page set up in memory of Kirsty, but declined to comment for this article. Police have cleared Mr Reeves of any involvement in Kirsty’s death.”’
    ‘He declined to comment but they scavenged a quote from him anyway,’ I said. ‘I bet the lawyers made them put in the bit about him not being a suspect.’
    Derwent read on, this time with more emphasis.
    ‘“And the similarities don’t end with how they lived. Kirsty and Maxine were strangled in their homes. There was no sign of a break-in at either address, suggesting that in each case they may have known their killer. Most shocking of all is the anonymous tip-off we received that both women were horribly mutilated, their bodies desecrated, their eyes gouged out. Police had not revealed this grisly detail to the public, but more than anything else it seems to suggest that Kirsty and Maxine were killed by the same person.”’
    I shuddered. ‘That’s horrible. I’m not surprised they didn’t want that detail revealed. But if no one knew, it can’t be a copycat.’
    ‘It’s not proof of any connection between the two deaths,’ Godley said. Derwent slammed his hands down on the desk.
    ‘Like fuck it isn’t.’
    ‘I wanted to talk to you about that article, but not out here, Josh.’
    ‘Nothing to do with me.’
    ‘Someone tipped them off. Someone who wants there to be a connection between the murders. Someone not particularly well informed. I don’t have to look too far to find someone who fits the bill.’ I’d never heard Godley sound so