The Essence of Evil Read online

  The Essence of Evil

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  A Letter From Rob

  Acknowledgments

  Books By Rob Sinclair

  Copyright

  The Essence of Evil

  Rob Sinclair

  For Josh

  Prologue

  She sprinted through the darkened street, glancing over her shoulder every other step – little more than an instinctive reaction as she could see next to nothing in the blackness behind her. At first she’d been screaming, but now she couldn’t find her voice. She was too out of breath, and together with the stabbing in her throat from having already bellowed with such force, she was rendered mute.

  Her bare feet felt wet and slippery on the cold stone underfoot. Was it moisture on the ground, or was her delicate skin rubbed clean off and bleeding from constant pounding on the rough surface? It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t stop running. She couldn’t.

  A fearful shiver ran through her. Not because of the cold but because of the ominous thoughts – memories of what she’d already been through – that were still crashing through her mind. The cool dank space that she could see so little of because of the bright light always blinding her. The binds around her wrists and ankles, locking her in place and giving her no chance to protect or defend her vulnerable body. The cruel words of her captor, the gruesome end planned for her.

  She stumbled as those horrors swept through her in a sudden onslaught.

  And she was damn sure he was there behind her now. She couldn’t let him get her. She couldn’t go back to that place. She had to get away.

  She didn’t spot the uneven paving slab. Her big toe cracked into the edge of it, the jolt to her momentum sending her wobbling. Before she knew it her legs had gone from underneath her. Her face was speeding towards solid ground. She managed to reach out her hand in time, saving her head from a horrific smash. Her wrist buckled under the weight of her body. She rolled, the back of her head smacked into the pavement and the shock of pain ran right through her.

  There was no time to recover.

  She hauled herself back to her feet, head throbbing, disorientated. She grimaced as she felt the wet patch at the back of her head. Blood? She had no idea he was there until he clattered into her from behind and sent her crashing forwards to the ground again. His weight pressed down on her, knocked the wind from her lungs and sent her brain into a heightened panic – if that was even possible. She struggled to free herself but managed only to wriggle onto her back.

  ‘Going somewhere?’ he snarled, the white of his gritted teeth just about visible in the thin moonlight. How she longed for that bright light now so that she remained blinded to his features.

  He leaned back, his legs pinning her arms by her sides, then threw a fist into her stomach, sapping any remaining defence she was trying to muster. He stood up and grabbed her hair in his hand, began to drag her away. She writhed and kicked and filled her lungs to try and scream. Before she could manage it he wrapped an arm around her throat. He squeezed hard, choking her attempt to raise the alarm.

  The skin on her back and side scraped painfully on the pockmarked surface as he dragged her over a step, through a garden gate, behind a thick bush.

  ‘You shouldn’t have run,’ he said, his voice now calm, almost warm.

  Horrific thoughts crashed through her mind as she heard his voice echoing in her mind. All of the things he’d said he’d do to her. She had to fight. She had to give it everything she had.

  She kicked and she bucked. She tried to reach up to dig her fingernails into his face, but he blocked her every move.

  She heard a noise.

  He heard it too. She could tell because of the flinch in his eyes. Someone was coming. A far-off car? A pedestrian on the street?

  He thrust his hand towards her. She jolted, her chest constricted sharply. She couldn’t catch her breath at all. Looking down, she could just make out the glint of metal, sticking out from her gut.

  He withdrew the knife, slowly, assuredly. Then slid it back into her flesh a second time. The razor-sharp blade glided into her abdomen effortlessly. Looking up, she saw him staring down at her with morbid interest.

  ‘You shouldn’t have run,’ he said again.

  Then she heard another unexpected sound. Closer now. A banging noise. A door opening? Her eyes darted off to the side. A light flashed on, so bright it burned into her retinas and she squinted and looked away until the throbbing in her head subsided.

  She heard shouting, but her confused and drifting brain couldn’t decipher where the noise came from or what the words were.

  After a few seconds she finally felt able to open her eyelids again. The light was still on, but was no longer glaring. For a moment she wondered if she was back in that place. But no, it felt – and smelled – different here. She was still outside. It wasn’t that same blinding light that now tormented her thoughts, but a security light at the front of someone’s house, just a few yards away. She was lying in the small front garden. She looked up at the man standing over her. Not him.

  He’d gone.

  ‘My god,’ the man said. ‘Don’t move. I’m going to get help.’

  He turned away.

  ‘No!’ she managed to cry out. ‘Don’t… leave me.’

  She mustered all of her strength to reach her hand upward towards him. He lifted his hand out to her. Their fingers brushed.

  She didn’t have the strength to hold on.

  Her arm flopped down to her side. Her eyes slid shut a
s everything else around her faded to nothingness.

  Chapter One

  Dani’s nerves slowly grew as she wound her car through the leafy streets of the Birmingham suburb of Moseley. The sun was only just beginning to make a lacklustre appearance as it poked over rooftops and its rays filtered through dense trees just showing the first signs of autumn colour. It was thirty minutes until the onset of the morning rush hour and the roads were still quiet. Dani turned onto Rose Hill and parked her car in one of the few available spots on the crammed road.

  She turned off the engine then took a deep breath before she put her hand to the door. As she stepped out into the chilly morning air she caught a brief glimpse of her reflection in the side mirror. She grimaced at what she saw. The call had come in more than an hour before her alarm was due to go off. She’d had barely any time to get ready before leaving the apartment. Her well-laid plans for the morning had been well and truly sidelined, and the only option had been to throw on her clothes and tie her messy hair back before darting out.

  With her hair pulled back tight across her head there was nothing she could do to hide the three-inch-long mark above her ear where her hair had refused to regrow, the lumpy patch of bare flesh right there for everyone else to see.

  There was nothing she could do about that now. At least this way she wasn’t hiding, she guessed.

  She walked briskly down the street. Beyond the jam-packed parked cars, covered in beads of early morning dew, two long rows of Edwardian semi-detached houses were packed tightly together. Some of the houses appeared downtrodden almost to the point of being beyond saving, their gardens unkempt and overgrown, some filled with all manner of rubbish. Many of the other houses though had clearly been treated with more respect, their original features carefully preserved, their small front gardens neat, lawns and bushes trimmed.

  As Dani walked along the pavement she noticed the bumper-to-bumper cars reflected the diverse condition of the houses, with banged-up old Fords and Renaults and Rovers parked next to much newer and shinier BMWs and Mercedes. The street was a clash of character and background and culture and class, much like the entire confused neighbourhood, which sat somewhat awkwardly between some of the wealthiest but also some of the poorest areas of Britain’s second city.

  With the sun continuing its slow rise, the bright rays of low sunlight peeking through the gaps in the buildings and the trees shone directly in Dani’s face as she walked, making her already stabbing headache even worse. She winced and held her hand up to her face to shade her eyes.

  Even with the glare of the sun and her squinting eyes, it wasn’t difficult to spot where she was headed because of the gaggle of people that were gathered – police officers, paramedics and also several members of the public. Blue and white police tape stretched right across the street, blocking access to pedestrians and traffic. Three marked police cars and an ambulance were parked up in front of the cordon as Dani approached. One or two of the pedestrians looked at her questioningly as she strode up.

  The uniformed police officer who moved quickly to intercept Dani had a similar expression, until Dani whipped out her ID and held it aloft. The PC nodded then stepped away as Dani scuttled under the police tape. To her right, beyond a low metal garden gate, and tucked behind a privet hedge, was a seven-foot high white tent. Dani headed for it.

  She walked past three forensic specialists, dressed head to toe in white, who were crouched low on the street and in the small front garden, searching for footprints or fibres or body tissues or fluids – any evidence that could be of importance. They’d come to the scene surprisingly quickly. Dani had requested their presence based upon the sparse information that had been relayed to her on the phone earlier, and they had clearly lost no time in attending the scene. She ignored them for now, and they all ignored her too as they focussed on their painstaking searches.

  Dani continued towards the tent.

  ‘DI Stephens,’ Dani heard someone call out.

  She stopped and turned and saw an unfamiliar man walking up to her – late twenties, she guessed, and wearing a long thick grey overcoat. A newbie DS, Dani thought. His youthful face held a carefree expression rather than the worn-down look of many more experienced officers. His face was kind though, with big deep brown eyes, a pinched nose and a dimpled chin.

  He held out his hand.

  ‘I’m DS Easton,’ he said.

  She noticed Easton stare up at her hairline, above her ear. She wondered how much he’d already heard about her. Dani shook his hand. ‘First names are fine. You can call me Dani.’

  ‘Sure, I’m Aaron then.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Aaron. So what can you tell me?’

  Dani already had a brief idea of what had happened from the earlier call she’d taken from her boss, DCI McNair, and the follow-up with the PC who’d first been on the scene, and she’d been expecting Easton to be ready and waiting for her. In fact McNair had suggested Easton would be assigned to all of Dani’s cases going forwards. He was the new Jason, basically. Dani felt herself deflate a little at that thought, though she had nothing against Easton. She had no preconception about how good he was at his job or what he was like as a person even. She would soon find out.

  ‘The victim is female,’ Easton said. ‘Late teens, early twenties. No ID or any personal possessions found on her or nearby. She’s… well, you’ll see for yourself.’

  His inability to hold her eye suggested Easton was rattled by the experience of seeing the victim. He was a DS on the Homicide team so it shouldn’t be the first time he’d attended a murder scene and she wasn’t massively impressed with his reaction.

  ‘Are the homeowners here?’ Dani asked, looking up at the house they were standing by, which she noted was one of the better kept ones on the street.

  ‘Yeah. Husband and wife are both in the house still. And their dog.’

  ‘You’ve spoken to them?’

  ‘Yeah. The dog doesn’t speak much though.’

  Dani felt herself smile but she quickly resumed a neutral expression. Easton reached in his pocket and withdrew a notebook, holding it up almost victoriously.

  ‘Spoke to the husband for a few minutes before you showed up. He and his wife are both pretty shaken. Mr and Mrs Mondy. The husband found the victim. He was getting ready for work just after five. Heard a noise. Opened the door to see a figure, standing over the victim.’

  ‘A figure?’

  ‘That’s what he said. The front light came on but it was still dark and he couldn’t give any useful description – tall, short, fat, thin, male, female. Anyway, the killer scarpered. Mondy went to the girl. But there was nothing he could do.’

  ‘Have you ruled them out?’

  ‘As suspects? I dunno.’

  ‘You dunno?’

  ‘My gut says they’ve got nothing to do with it. Not subtle, is it? Stabbing someone in your front garden.’

  ‘Subtle? Subtlety is rarely a word I’ve used when describing murder scenes. Their reaction should have told you a lot. Next time make sure you’re still alert and have your brain switched on.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Easton said, his voice sullen but stern, his face just starting to crease with anger. She hadn’t intended her words to come out quite so coldly, and inwardly she cringed at her own brusqueness, but she said nothing of it. ‘I don’t think they’ve got anything to do with this. I’ve spoken to them, I saw how shaken they were. Unless you’re trying to tell me otherwise.’

  Dani held his eye for a few seconds. ‘Ok. Good. So what else?’

  ‘The body is still in there.’ Easton indicated to the tent. ‘The pathologist too.’

  Dani nodded. Although a pathologist would perform a forensic post-mortem on every murder victim, there generally wasn’t a need for one to be called to a scene. Not unless there were particularly unusual circumstances – a badly decomposed body, for example. That call was the Senior Investigating Officer’s to make. As SIO on this case, Dani, perhaps feeling rusty af
ter so long on the sidelines, had wanted to err on the side of caution for this one, particularly given some of the details relayed to her earlier.

  ‘Who’s the pathologist?’ she asked.

  ‘Jack Ledford.’

  Dani groaned inwardly. Well, perhaps her decision to call out a pathologist was about to come back to bite her. He was sure to tell her straight if he felt his time was being wasted unnecessarily.

  ‘Ok, so tell me what you know so far.’

  ‘The victim was stabbed twice,’ Easton said. ‘Both times in the torso. Looks like she was first attacked out on the street.’

  Easton pointed over to a small pool of dried blood on the pavement slabs, from which a thin streak of blood wormed away through the gate to where the white tent was erected.

  ‘And what does that tell you?’ Dani asked.

  ‘The blood trail?’

  Dani nodded.

  ‘It’s not massive. Perhaps she wasn’t stabbed there, but there was some sort of attack or fight. She’s got a nasty gash on her head which maybe explains the blood on the street. Then either she was dragged from that spot by the attacker or she crawled from there into the garden herself.’

  ‘Which do you think?’

  ‘I’d say she was dragged there.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because of the grazes on her back. It looks like the two stab wounds were then delivered in the garden, given the amount of blood there.’

  Dani nodded and tried to show no reaction to the grim words. His instincts seemed sound enough at least.

  ‘Let’s go and see what Ledford has for us then.’

  They headed to the white tent and Dani discreetly pulled across the opening, trying not to let the gawkers by the police tape get a view of the inside.

  Ledford was in his sixties, bald but for wispy white hair around the sides, a pair of glasses perched on the edge of his pointed nose. He was crouched down by the curled up body of the young woman. The victim’s face was contorted in a hollow death stare. She was only partially clothed, in knickers and a tight-fitting strappy top. She wore nothing on her feet. Her skin was dirtied and blotchy and covered in scratches and scrapes. There was a large pool of red underneath the body. Dani noticed rings of reddened flesh around her wrists and ankles.