He hit hardly any traffic and made excellent time across the city. He reversed into a parking space directly outside the building and hurried over to the security guard. The man recognised him immediately and they made small talk while Edmunds provided his identification and surrendered his personal possessions in order to sign back into the archives.
The wine had helped Wolf drop off to sleep, but less than an hour later he had been woken by the sound of Baxter retching into the en suite toilet. He lay in the darkness, the glow of the bathroom light seeping between the door frame, listening to the chain flush, cupboards opening and closing and then her gargling and spitting mouthwash into the sink.
He was about to get up to head home, satisfied that she was functioning effectively enough to make it through the night unaided, when Baxter wobbled back into the bedroom, rolled onto the bed and slapped a drunken arm across his chest.
‘How was your date?’ she asked him.
‘Short,’ replied Wolf, both annoyed with Finlay, who could not keep a secret to save his life, and suspecting that Baxter’s poorly timed indiscretion had, in fact, been timed very intentionally.
‘Shame. Thank you for coming to get me,’ she said, almost asleep again already.
‘I nearly didn’t.’
‘But you did,’ she whispered as she drifted off to sleep. ‘I knew you would.’
Edmunds’ hunch had paid off. He managed to locate the box that he had been working on earlier and had abandoned on completely the wrong shelf in his haste to get home. He had returned to the case from 2009: the heir to a powerful corporation that had vanished from a secure hotel suite, a puddle of blood, no body. He studied each of the crime scene photographs individually and had finally found one that confirmed his suspicions.
On the wall beside the pool of blood, a set of eight tiny spatter stains had been evidenced and dismissed, understandably, as ‘further blood’; however, the scene looked uncannily similar to the room that he had visited earlier that day. Armed with the knowledge that they now possessed, it was obvious that this apparently insignificant spatter pattern had actually been caused while the murderer was dismembering the deceased victim in order to remove the body from an otherwise inescapable situation.
It was their killer. Edmunds was sure.
He started packing the evidence back into the box excitedly. At last, he felt as though he had found something promising enough to share with the team. As he got up, a piece of paper dropped out of the lid and onto the floor. It was the standard form that accompanied every box in the warehouse: a list of names, dates signed in and out, and a brief description of the reason for removing it from the archives. Edmunds crouched down to tuck it back inside the lid but then spotted a familiar name at the bottom of the page, the last person to have reviewed the evidence:
Detective Sergeant William Fawkes – 05/02/2013: Blood spatter analysis
Detective Sergeant William Fawkes – 10/02/2013: Returned to store
Edmunds was confused. There had been no paperwork from Wolf and no forensics report since the original back in 2009. The most likely scenario was that Wolf had been led to this case while investigating another. Perhaps he had unintentionally stumbled across this previous victim of the Ragdoll Killer, unwittingly drawing his attention. That would explain the personal nature of the challenge and also the clear level of admiration: the one police officer that the killer deemed worthy.
It was all falling into place.
Edmunds was elated. He would ask Wolf about it in the morning, who might be able to point him towards other examples of their killer’s early work. Encouraged by his discovery, he switched aisles and started searching for the next case on his list.
At long last, they were hunting the hunter.
CHAPTER 27
Thursday 10 July 2014
7.07 a.m.
The sun was blazing in through the open doorway, casting hazy shadows across the bed. Wolf opened his eyes. He was alone in Baxter’s room, lying fully clothed on top of the covers. The rhythmic thud from the other room of footfalls springing off the treadmill had woken him.
With great effort he got up and collected his shoes from where he had kicked them off at the bottom of the bed. He walked into the sunny living room and waved listlessly at Baxter, who was dressed in her workout clothing and was still sporting the lopsided ponytail that he had given her the night before. Had he not known better, he would have said that she looked rested and revitalised. She had always been able to recover quickly. It was part of the reason she had been able to hide her debilitating problem from so many for so long.
She did not acknowledge him as he went into the open-plan kitchen and set about making a coffee.
‘Do you still keep a …’ he started.
Baxter’s skin was glistening with sweat as she maintained the demanding pace. She looked annoyed at having to remove her earphones to hear him.
‘Do you still keep a spare toothbrush around?’ asked Wolf.
They had always had an unspoken agreement by which Baxter would keep a stock of emergency toiletries in case Wolf ended up staying over at short notice. At one stage it had become a regular occurrence. As innocent as it had been, it was no wonder that Andrea had become so suspicious of their relationship.
‘Bottom drawer, bathroom,’ she said curtly before replacing her earphones.
Wolf sensed that she was looking for a fight but he was determined not to rise to the bait. This was typical of Baxter. She was embarrassed by her behaviour and would express it by being thoroughly unpleasant.
The kettle boiled and Wolf held up a mug to silently ask her whether she would like a drink. She huffed loudly and ripped the earphones back out.
‘What?!’
‘I was just asking if you wanted a coffee.’
‘Oh, I don’t drink coffee. You know that better than anyone. I only drink wine and ridiculous-looking cocktails.’
‘Is that a no then?’
‘That’s what you think of me, isn’t it? Poor drunken mess who can’t even look after herself. Admit it.’
Wolf’s resolve was weakening.
‘I don’t think that,’ he said. ‘Just going back to the coffee …’
‘I didn’t need you coming round like this, you know? But now you can go off on your merry way feeling all noble and superior. Do me a favour: don’t bother next time.’
She was getting out of breath the longer she ranted.
‘I wish I hadn’t bothered this time!’ he shouted. ‘I should have left you crawling around on that toilet floor instead of ruining my dinner.’
‘Oh yeah, your dinner with Ashley Lochlan. How sweet. I’ve got a really good feeling about that relationship. I reckon it’s going places, just so long as neither of you are brutally murdered in the next four days!’
‘I’m going to work,’ said Wolf, heading for the door. ‘You’re welcome, by the way.’
‘I don’t know why you’re doing it to yourself,’ Baxter yelled after him. ‘It’s a bit like naming a cow at an abattoir!’