The Killer Inside: A gripping serial killer thriller (Detective Jessica Daniel thriller series Book 1) by Kerry Wilkinson Page B
Authors: Kerry Wilkinson
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news.’
‘What’s the bad news?’
‘Sky News, ITV, the BBC and the local radio stations are now also using the phrase “Houdini Strangler”.’
The smile disappeared from Jessica’s face. She rubbed her forehead and sighed. ‘You could have sugar-coated that a bit.’
‘Do you want the good news?’
‘Go on.’
‘The hospital has phoned to say you can visit Sandra Prince.’
Chapter Fourteen
J essica returned to her office to make a few notes before heading off to the hospital. With her promotion, Jessica had been given one of the smaller offices on the ground floor. She shared it with another detective sergeant, Jason Reynolds, who was an imposing black officer a few years older than her. He was funny and helpful but currently heavily involved in a complex fraud case. If it wasn’t for that, there was a very good chance the murder case would have been given to him instead of her.
DS Reynolds was sitting at his own desk, opposite hers. Their office was occupied by two very different people. On Reynolds’ side, closest to the door, everything was in meticulous piles or filed away. On Jessica’s half, papers, notes and files were carefully ordered on the floor, around the bin, under her seat and spilling over from her desk.
Shortly after Jessica had been moved into the same space as him, Reynolds had asked why she was so messy.
‘To the untrained eye this may look like a disordered shambles,’ Jessica had told him, ‘but to an experienced organiser such as myself, there are levels to this filing system you can’t even begin to imagine. I know exactly where everything is.’
It was more or less true. She knew in the rough area where everything was, but ‘exactly’ was probably pushing it.
Although Reynolds had been ranked above Jessica before she was promoted, there had never been any issues between the two of them after she was elevated. Their work rarely overlapped, and they shared a fun relationship.
As she checked through the papers on her desk now for the information they had on Sandra Prince, DI Cole knocked and entered.
‘You’re up,’ he told Reynolds.
‘What was it like?’ Reynolds asked.
‘Fine. They didn’t have much to ask me. I’m pretty sure they think our mole is Jessica.’ He nodded at her and gave her a wink as if to say he believed she was.
Reynolds told them to wish him luck and left the room.
‘Now you’re done, we can go see Sandra Prince,’ Jessica said. ‘The hospital called and said it was okay.’
She didn’t know if the DI would want to go, but figured it was best to give him the option. That was why it was something of a surprise when he replied that he’d drive.
T he journey to the hospital was something of a nuisance. Rush hour had come and gone, but it was Friday and the traffic patterns always seemed to be inconsistent at the end of the week. It wasn’t too sunny in Manchester, grey clouds washing over the city as winter and spring fought over what the temperature should be. Cole had taken them in a marked car. His driving matched his personality: steady and straightforward, nothing too crazy.
Some guy had obviously not noticed the car’s markings as he swerved late across lanes and cut them up. If it were Jessica, she would probably have given the driver the inconvenience of having to report to their local police station with all the documents – but Cole carried on as if nothing had happened, without even beeping the car’s horn. His calmness was very disconcerting.
Usually, interviews were carried out at the police station, so that anything that was said would be recorded. But Sandra Prince was not really a suspect and, given her doctor’s advice, it had been felt the interview could be done at the hospital. Her presence at work had already been confirmed for the whole of the day the murder had taken place. She could have killed her husband in the morning and then left the house, but it seemed unlikely.
At the hospital, their
‘What’s the bad news?’
‘Sky News, ITV, the BBC and the local radio stations are now also using the phrase “Houdini Strangler”.’
The smile disappeared from Jessica’s face. She rubbed her forehead and sighed. ‘You could have sugar-coated that a bit.’
‘Do you want the good news?’
‘Go on.’
‘The hospital has phoned to say you can visit Sandra Prince.’
Chapter Fourteen
J essica returned to her office to make a few notes before heading off to the hospital. With her promotion, Jessica had been given one of the smaller offices on the ground floor. She shared it with another detective sergeant, Jason Reynolds, who was an imposing black officer a few years older than her. He was funny and helpful but currently heavily involved in a complex fraud case. If it wasn’t for that, there was a very good chance the murder case would have been given to him instead of her.
DS Reynolds was sitting at his own desk, opposite hers. Their office was occupied by two very different people. On Reynolds’ side, closest to the door, everything was in meticulous piles or filed away. On Jessica’s half, papers, notes and files were carefully ordered on the floor, around the bin, under her seat and spilling over from her desk.
Shortly after Jessica had been moved into the same space as him, Reynolds had asked why she was so messy.
‘To the untrained eye this may look like a disordered shambles,’ Jessica had told him, ‘but to an experienced organiser such as myself, there are levels to this filing system you can’t even begin to imagine. I know exactly where everything is.’
It was more or less true. She knew in the rough area where everything was, but ‘exactly’ was probably pushing it.
Although Reynolds had been ranked above Jessica before she was promoted, there had never been any issues between the two of them after she was elevated. Their work rarely overlapped, and they shared a fun relationship.
As she checked through the papers on her desk now for the information they had on Sandra Prince, DI Cole knocked and entered.
‘You’re up,’ he told Reynolds.
‘What was it like?’ Reynolds asked.
‘Fine. They didn’t have much to ask me. I’m pretty sure they think our mole is Jessica.’ He nodded at her and gave her a wink as if to say he believed she was.
Reynolds told them to wish him luck and left the room.
‘Now you’re done, we can go see Sandra Prince,’ Jessica said. ‘The hospital called and said it was okay.’
She didn’t know if the DI would want to go, but figured it was best to give him the option. That was why it was something of a surprise when he replied that he’d drive.
T he journey to the hospital was something of a nuisance. Rush hour had come and gone, but it was Friday and the traffic patterns always seemed to be inconsistent at the end of the week. It wasn’t too sunny in Manchester, grey clouds washing over the city as winter and spring fought over what the temperature should be. Cole had taken them in a marked car. His driving matched his personality: steady and straightforward, nothing too crazy.
Some guy had obviously not noticed the car’s markings as he swerved late across lanes and cut them up. If it were Jessica, she would probably have given the driver the inconvenience of having to report to their local police station with all the documents – but Cole carried on as if nothing had happened, without even beeping the car’s horn. His calmness was very disconcerting.
Usually, interviews were carried out at the police station, so that anything that was said would be recorded. But Sandra Prince was not really a suspect and, given her doctor’s advice, it had been felt the interview could be done at the hospital. Her presence at work had already been confirmed for the whole of the day the murder had taken place. She could have killed her husband in the morning and then left the house, but it seemed unlikely.
At the hospital, their
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