A/N: As mentioned, Jo, the rugby comment is for you. My thanks to those who have continued reading. There's one more after this bit.
*
His arm stretched out from under the sheets and patted around momentarily until it hit the clock. It reappeared seconds later after realizing it wasn't the clock that was making the annoying sound.
"Mmmm. Tony Hill."
"What are you doing?" came the familiar voice of Carol.
"Depends," he mumbled thickly. "What kind of telephone call is this going to be?"
"What?" she asked in confusion, before realizing the innuendo in his comment. "Well, aren't you coy first thing in the morning? So noted. In the meantime," she went on, "The results came back on that blood sample in the victim's nose."
He sat upright, fully awake now. "And?"
Although he couldn't see it, she shook her head. "And nothing. B negative, definitely male. But not from anyone in the system."
"Damn."
"Don's ready to explode, I'm sure."
"Do you want me to come down?"
"Yeah, could you?" she asked. "I hate to put this on you, but I could really use having a calming presence for a bit. I'm pulling my hair out over this case." A thought came to her. "Is your car working?"
"It is. I put oil in it last night."
Carol's tone was skeptical. "Did you?"
Hedging, he changed his answer slightly. "Sara directed me." He waited but she didn't respond. "All right, I watched as Sara did it for me." Carol couldn't help but laugh, and Tony decided it was one of the best things to hear first thing in the morning.
Tony smiled. "I'll bring Sara. Might cheer Don up as well."
"Good idea. I'll see you in a bit."
*
"We got nothing," were the first words out of Don's mouth as Tony and Sara entered the office.
"Yeah, we heard," Sara said.
"Bloody hell!" he shouted, weeks worth of frustration finding its way out.
"Maybe we should double-check the backgrounds again," Kevin suggested.
"We've done that. I've lost count how many times we've done that," Don argued.
Carol sighed raggedly, but did her best to present a strong façade. "You're right, Don," she admitted. "So what do you suggest we do?"
He opened his mouth to answer, but he knew he had nothing to offer. "I… I don't know, guv." Turning to his partner, he said, "Sorry about that, Kev."
He brushed off the apology. "We're all on edge about this, Don. Nothing to apologize for."
Carol looked over to Tony for his input and discovered he was intently watching Sara. Sensing her look, Tony glanced over at Carol and put a finger to his lips. Don and Kevin saw the gesture and followed Tony's gaze to Sara. The CSI was sitting in a nearby chair, her foot propped up on a desk drawer she had pulled out, scribbling furiously onto a notepad resting on her knee. She frowned in concentration, every so often her lips moved wordlessly as if in silent debate with herself. When she finally spoke, they jumped.
"Numerology!" she said proudly, oblivious to the startled reaction of the room.
Carol was the first to find her voice. "Numerology? What do you mean?"
"You mean like psychics and horoscopes," Don all but scoffed.
Sara turned her notepad around so the others could see it. They leaned forward and struggled to decipher her scrawl. Looking down at the pad, she voiced what her illegible writing couldn't quite convey. "It's not uncommon for serial killers latch on to a particular pattern; they kill on the same day of the week, or the same date. They stab their victims the same amount of times or they choose victims based on letters in their name. It was the same thing with the case in Vegas." She looked over at Tony who nodded his agreement. "But in this case," she went on, "the numbers come from the letters of their name. The total of those letters leads to the same number. Assign a number to each letter of the alphabet. One for A, two for B, three for C and so on. The names of all these women add up to the same number- 122." She caught the look of confusion from Don and smiled. "Don Merrick. D-3, O-15, N-14, M-13, E-5, R-18, R-18, I-9, C-3, K-11. That's…" she paused and looked up at the ceiling momentarily. "Carry the one… 110."
"Maths know-it-all," Kevin ribbed.
She stood up and went to the whiteboard and wrote out a string of letters from A to Z and put their corresponding numbers beneath them. She then jotted down the names of the victims.
JANE MORRIS- 30+92=122
EMMA SMYTHE- 32+90=122
"Here's the trick," Sara noted as she spelled out the name of the third victim. "Not Sue, but Susan."
SUSAN GRAHAM- 74+48=122
LYNN GEORGE- 65+57=122
"Bloody hell," Don marveled.
Her smile was short-lived, and she leaned back against the board, her arms crossed in front of her. "Well it doesn't really help you predict his next move though, does it? It's not like you can go through the phone book and apply my theory to all the names. And what does the number signify? What kind of meaning does it have? Figure out his reasoning and you figure him out." She gestured to the notepad on the desk. "Those numbers are logic, not reason. This is where I get confused, because in my job, logic identifies the "how" and that's how I solve the case. I don't deal in reasons; it's not my job to figure out the 'why'. But here, it's completely ass-backwards. It's the logic that helps you figure out the 'why'- he's got some weird obsession with numbers – but it doesn't help you with the 'how'. I'm completely lost." She ran her fingers through her hair in defeat. "And more importantly, it doesn't get us any closer to the next victim."
Tony stood up and started pacing. "Not necessarily, Sara, not necessarily." He tapped his temple as he tried to formulate his thoughts. "Think about it," he began, "think about how he was able to come up with those names; four names that all added up to the same number. You were right, Sara. If we can't just look through the phone book to apply that theory, he very well can't either, can he? So how did he get the names?"
Carol picked up his trail. "He'd have to be in a position to see these names together. A list of names to narrow down. What kind of job offers that opportunity?"
"It would have to be a service all four women used or signed up for," Kevin offered.
"We checked their backgrounds thoroughly," Don reminded them again. "Banking, electricity, television, schooling, hobbies. Nothing connected them."
"Telemarketing?" Sara asked.
Shaking her head, Carol replied, "Nothing the phone records came up with." Unaware, she tapped her lips with her fingers and began to mimic Tony's pacing. "Think. These women were taken out of their homes. No sign of forced entry, so they must have known or recognized the man. Or in the very least, felt safe enough to let open the door and let them in."
Kevin spoke again. "Delivery?"
Don shook his head. "We ruled that out too. We couldn't find any local shops who delivered to any of the women."
"Well, if he's a crim, which he is, maybe he simply posed as a delivery man," Kevin said.
"Good point, Kevin," Tony agreed, "but that still doesn't answer the question, how did he get their names? The delivery ruse only gets him in the house. It doesn't get him to the house." He stopped and put his hand out as if to steady himself. "To the house." The room waited expectantly for him to elaborate. He clenched his hand into a fist and smiled. "To the house. How did he get to the house?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "He drove. And so did all the women."
"DMV," Sara whispered, catching on to Tony's train of thought. Seeing the puzzled looks of the other three, she clarified, "Department of Motor Vehicles. It's where you go to get your licence renewed or get a licence plate. That sort of thing."
"DVLA," Carol said. "But you don't go there. It's not a service done face-to-face."
"But you do see someone face-to-face when you get your new tax disc," Kevin offered. Seeing the look of confusion on Sara's face, he explained, "It's a paper disc that you display in your windscreen. Can't drive your car legally without it. You get it at the Post Office."
"Windscreen. I believe you call it a 'windshield'," Tony said helpfully, with just the smallest trace of a smile.
She fought her own smirk. "So it'd be possible to trace these four women to a local post office?"
"Where else could you get a list of names as long as your arm, and the information with which to track them down?" Don marveled aloud.
"Wait," Tony said and the entire room stopped. "We're making this too difficult. Why not start with the DVLA directly? We shouldn't dismiss the post office outright, but think about it. If you work in the post office, you have to wait for the women to come to you. In an organization like the DVLA, like you said Don, one would have the information to track you down. Give some trumped up excuse about how there was a problem with their form or whatever, you show a new form, get inside, and it all picks up speed for the killer from there."
"Only one problem," Kevin spoke up. All eyes turned to him. "There's only one DVLA and that's in Wales. What the hell's he doing in this neck of the woods?"
Carol pondered this for a minute, then replied, "Let's see if it pieces together after we've got more information. This is a good lead right now; we'll run with what we've got."
Don pointed at Sara. "You. I'm warning you right now, if this turns out to be right, you're never leaving."
Laughter came easily and was a welcome relief.
"Right," Carol said, "Don, check the vehicle registration of all four women. See if there's a connection there in terms of expiration dates and the like. Then get us our own list. I want to know the names of all the women who have received renewal notifications in the mail within the three months, and who is up for one in a month's time. Kevin, I want the names of everyone who works for the DVLA. Then cross-reference that list with anyone Don finds in his investigative jaunts. Perhaps one or two people were given that specific job of handling the renewals. That would make our job a hell of a lot easier."
"What'll you be doing, guv?" Kevin asked.
"Oh, I'll be sitting on my arse trying to figure out a way to get Don's new friend to stay." She glanced over at Sara and smiled. Throwing Kevin a sardonic look, she added, "That is, until you bring me that list, Kevin. Then I can cross-check any potential suspects with the ownership of a dark blue sports car seen in the vicinity of the crimes."
"Right you are, boss," Don said. Jerking his head towards the door, he motioned to his partner, "Well, come on then. We've got a murderer to catch."
As the two men left the office, Tony dropped himself into a nearby chair. "Well, that was easy," he smiled.
Carol leaned against the window frame. "That numerology bit. That was bloody brilliant. Weird, but brilliant. Might not identify him directly, but it could go a long way to tracking him down."
"You know, I'll feel bad if this doesn't turn out," Sara admitted.
Waving her hand, Carol dismissed the idea. "Don't worry about it. We follow every lead and if they don't pan out, we just move on to the next theory and try harder. And as of right now, yours is the best lead we've come up with in days. Don't worry," she repeated. "The only one who will be disappointed will be your friend, Don. He was serious, you know. We'll have to sneak you out of Bradfield in the dead of night."
*
"It's the waiting I hate," Carol admitted as she sat back in her chair and looked out her office window. Forty-five minutes had passed since Don and Kevin had left.
"So you find the catch more interesting than the chase?" Tony asked.
"You're not analyzing me, are you?"
He shook his head vehemently. "No. Definitely no. Not."
Sara's laugh was interrupted by the appearance of Don's large frame in the doorway. He held up a file.
"Got that list you wanted, guv. Every notification in the last three months, and the ones up in a month's time, narrowed down to the women, just like you asked."
He handed it to Carol who opened the manila folder. "Good work, Don. Right. Kevin hasn't come back with the DVLA employee list, so in the meantime, we each get a page of these names and start using Sara's formula on each and every one. If we're lucky, this is going to narrow things down to a handful of names. If we're lucky." She started handing out the small stack of paper around to the group, herself included.
Don looked down at his two pages, up to the board bearing Sara's numerical theory, then back down to his pages. "Anyone got a bloody calculator?"
*
"What's fifty three plus eighty six?" Tony asked out loud.
"More than one hundred and twenty two," Carol answered.
The office had been silent except for the scattered, barely perceptible mutterings of "…carry the two…" and "… equals ninety five…" as names transferred over to numbers. At last, Sara stood up and walked over to the board. In block printing, she wrote down, "SIAN PEMBRY- 43+79=122"
Thirty minutes later, and it remained the only name on the board. As per his impeccable timing, Kevin arrived, his own file in hand.
"Tell me something wonderful, Kevin," Carol said.
"I predict England will win the Rugby World Championship this year," he offered.
Tony perked up. "Do you really?"
Sighing, Carol said, "Hello? Tell me something I want to hear, Kevin."
"Oh, yeah. Sorry." He held up the file. "Got that employee list from DVLA."
"How many names?" Don wearily asked.
Kevin smiled. "Oh, you're going to love this… one."
"One?"
"One man was given the task of issuing tax disc notifications for the Bradfield area within the last six months. DVLA gave me a photo. Alan McGregor. And, seeing as I knew how busy you were," he ignored Carol's glare, "I checked out his vehicle registration. You'll never guess what he drives."
Sara leaned back and raised her arms victoriously.
"Wait, there's more," Kevin smiled. "Previous address? 82 Pembrook Lane."
"Here?" Carol asked. "In Bradfield?"
"One and the same, guv."
"Well, that's it, then," Don said. "We've got him."
Carol held up a finger. "Not just yet. We've got to be careful here." She looked around the room. "What do we have? We've got DNA that leads to no one at this point. We've got a generic blue car that could belong to anyone. And although we've singled him out as the notification issuer, no one saw him at any of the victim's houses."
"It's all circumstantial," Sara noted.
"Exactly."
"So what do we do now?" Don asked impatiently.
Carol turned to Tony. "Any indication as to when he might strike again?"
He shook his head. "Too hard to determine with any certainty."
"Take an educated guess."
"Well," he looked at the board. "There were five weeks between Jane Morris and Emma Smythe. Then only twenty four days between Emma Smythe and Sue Graham. Between Sue Graham and Lynn George, two weeks. While there's no evident pattern, it's certainly escalating at an alarming rate. Following his curve, it's safe to assume he'll attack in under a two week period. It's been five days since the death of Lynn George."
"So that's anytime between now and eight days time," Sara calculated.
Tony nodded.
"Right," Carol said. "We put twenty-four hour surveillance on Sian Pembry's house, have someone inside, particularly at night. And we wait it out. Good work, everyone."
*