‘So Nowakowski is the victim this time?’
‘It’s looking likely.’
Kate closed her eyes as she silently nodded. It confirmed what they’d suspected, but since his heart had been delivered in the box, it had been evident that he was dead, so this didn’t feel like news.
‘Have they found any other DNA in the room yet?’
‘As a matter of fact, they have. That’s why I’m calling.’
Kate’s pulse quickened. ‘Who?’
‘Unidentified, I’m afraid. SSD found a patch of dried mucus on the carpet beneath the plastic sheeting.’
‘Which could have been left by a previous visitor to the property presumably?’
‘Maybe. They were able to confirm that it was fairly recent, but that’s not the exciting part. This second DNA profile was also discovered at the gymnasium.’
Kate frowned. ‘I wasn’t aware that a second profile had been identified at the school.’
‘It was literally just found; minutes before the mucus profile was assessed.’
‘Are you sure the samples weren’t cross-contaminated?’
‘Couldn’t have been. Packaged separately and were being worked on at exactly the same time by different technicians in different laboratories. There is no way they could have been contaminated.’
‘So what you’re saying is we have an unidentified person present at both crime scenes?’
‘Told you you’d be excited.’
‘Tell me about this new profile from the gymnasium. Where was it discovered?’
‘You remember the box of cleaning products that was located in the corner of the gymnasium? The box that was hiding the foot from view. It had blood spatter on it so naturally was brought to the lab for examination. The technician working on it, found a dried sweat secretion in the bottom of the box, beneath the bottles of bleach and whatever else was in there. Whoever’s DNA it is, they had contact with that box at some point prior to the dismembering. And they had also coughed up mucus on the carpet in number forty-eight. At the very least it ties this individual to both scenes, whether or not they were present when the crimes were undertaken.’
‘But this profile doesn’t match anything on the National DNA Database?’
‘Not so far. What I can tell you is the sample belongs to a man. We also believe he may have ginger or strawberry-blond hair.’
Kate turned and stared at Jackson’s hair in the profile picture. ‘How the hell can you tell that?’
‘There’s a test for it. Some redheads have a different version of a gene that prevents pigment-producing cells called melanocytes responding to a hormone that instructs them to make dark pigment. In samples such as this where two of the mutated genes are identified, there is a ninety-six per cent probability that the person will be naturally red-haired.’
‘No hits on Daisy Emerson’s profile in the room?’
‘Not so far.’
Kate allowed a small sigh of relief escape. ‘Thanks, Ben. I’m sending the team home now, but if you get anything else that needs sharing, I want you to call my mobile straight away.’
‘You need to rest too, Kate.’
‘I’ll stop when the bastard is behind bars.’ She paused. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any clue where he’s disposing of the body parts, is there?’
‘Well, that’s the big question, isn’t it? Nothing so far, but the team will be excavating the garden first thing. Burying the bodies would be the easiest solution for disposal.’
Kate scribbled the note on her pad. ‘When are you finishing?’
‘Soon. There isn’t a lot more I can do to help them here.’
* * *
The drive home was largely completed on autopilot, with Kate suddenly surprised to find herself parked up outside the small block of flats. A dusting of snow remained on the lids of all the bins in the street, but the road and large sections of pavement had cleared. The further flurry had yet to arrive, but as Kate stepped out of her car, the bitter chill that greeted her exposed cheeks warned her that it might not be far away. Locking the car, she hustled through the front door, grateful that the communal areas were benefiting from the heat coming from the ground floor flats.
Charging up the stairs to the first floor, Kate only stopped when she heard her name being called from the second floor. Leaning against the bannister, she looked up and saw her neighbour staring down.
‘Hi, Trish.’
‘Give me one second and I’ll be down,’ Trish replied, disappearing from view.
Kate wanted to call after her and try to explain that she wasn’t in any state to stay up drinking and chatting, though it had been too long since they’d last had a proper catch-up. But there was only one place Kate wanted to be now, and that was in bed, squashed up next to her pillow.
Kate was unlocking her front door when she heard Trish join her on the landing. ‘This came for you today,’ Trish began. ‘The delivery driver was just going to leave it on your doormat, but I said I would take it in for you in case it was something expensive.’
Kate’s eyes widened, as she realised what her neighbour was saying. Kate knew she hadn’t ordered anything that would require delivery, and as she slowly turned, the overpowering scent of strawberry confirmed her worst fears.
Gripping the large box tightly, Trish was clearly oblivious to what she might be holding.
‘Are you all right, honey?’ Trish asked. ‘You look like you’ve see a ghost.’
Kate pushed her door open, asking Trish to carefully carry the brown cardboard box through to the kitchen to avoid further contamination. Resting the box on the counter, Trish stepped back uncertainly as Kate moved closer to the box. Reaching for a pair of Marigolds and a large kitchen knife, she carefully broke the tape sealing the lid and slowly lifted the flaps, gasping as she recognised the glittery wrapping paper around the box inside. Sliding it out, the sweet smell of artificial strawberries filled the room.
‘I bet it’s from Ben,’ Trish giggled, missing the seriousness of the discovery.
Carefully removing the wrapping paper, Kate used the tip of the knife to lift the lid a fraction, dropping it as soon as she saw the bloody contents, and pushing the box further away from them.
‘What is it?’ Trish asked, perfectly reflecting the fear in Kate’s eyes.
A second delivery, but this time to her house. All day her team had been hunting for Jackson, and the whole time he’d been looking for her. How the hell could he have found out where she lived?
Grabbing Trish’s arms, Kate gently shook her startled friend. ‘Who delivered this, Trish?’
‘I-I… just some guy.’
‘A courier?’
‘Yeah, I guess.’
‘Was he, or not?’
‘Yeah.’
‘From which firm?’
‘I-I-I don’t know. He was wearing a brown uniform of some sort… doesn’t the box say who delivered it?’
Kate carefully spun the brown box around, checking each surface for any kind of postage label, but finding none. ‘You need to think carefully, Trish, what did the uniform look like?’
‘I-I don’t know.’ Trish closed her eyes as she tried to focus on the memory. ‘His trousers were a dark brown colour, I think, but… oh wait, his bomber jacket wasn’t brown, it was navy blue.’
‘What about a logo, or badge? Anything to help us find out who he used to send it this time?’
‘He, who? What’s in the box, Kate?’
But Kate knew she couldn’t answer that question. And then another troubling thought fired into her mind sending shivers down her spine, as Jackson’s goofy smile flooded her mind’s eye.
‘Describe the courier to me. What did his face look like?’
‘I don’t understand why you’re asking that, Kate. What’s in the box? What’s going on?’
Kate didn’t have time for questions. Gripping Trish’s arms once more, Kate stared into her friend’s terrified eyes, and spoke calmly, yet methodically. ‘I need you to remember, Trish. Forget about the box. Close your eyes and remember what the courier looked like. Was he tall, was he short? Was he thin, was he fat? What colour were his eyes?’