Chapter Five
"Why is he doing this Greg?"
Lestrade scrubbed his face with aching hands, tilting up a weary head to answer an equally tired Donovan.
"If I'm honest, I have absolutely no bloody idea!" His voice rose and Sally's eyes narrowed.
Lestrade let his strained nerves steam for a moment, and then took a deep, calming breath. Smoothing down the large A3 timeline that covered his desk, he frowned at in consternation.
It made no sense. Any traces the killer left were indecipherable. The DNA samples Forensics had sent to the lab had mystified all the high-tech machines and chemicals, and the fingerprints had done no better. It drove the sensors haywire, and no coherent results could be deciphered from the patchy evidence.
It seemed that the killer wasn't human. Lestrade snorted humourlessly at the irony.
That left three viable options. The killer was an animal, a robot, or a ghost.
The lack of destruction disinclined the possibility of an animal – and these killings were too calculated and ruthless for that of a mindless animal.
A robot? This was far beyond any technology Lestrade – and the world for that matter – had heard of.
That left the last option. Lestrade was a practical man, hardly one to be swayed by suspicion and old wife's tales.
But was it possible?
Donovan, seeing she was going to get no response from a thoughtful Lestrade, spoke out.
"Let's run through the facts again, okay?"
Lestrade straightened up with a weary hint of dying optimism. He looked out the window. Darkness had descended upon London. The tedious artificial light of his office highlighted the numerous coffee cups that littered the floor, telling the story of sleepless nights and stressful days.
Lestrade looked out into the cloudy black night grimly. No doubt the monster would strike again tonight.
The dark thought filled with a newfound determination. He leaned over the timeline, and began to speak.
"The killings start here." He jabbed his finger down at the start of the timeline. "Charlie Colfer was its first victim." He paused, dragging his finger along the timeline. "A three year period of killings begins, all in the vicinity of London." He continued to drag his finger. "Then, a mysterious five year pause. Now, the killer has struck again, three times, the first occuring three months ago."
Donovan's eyes sparked."We need – we need to go back to the start sir."
"I'm listening Donovan."
"Charlie Colfer." She jumped out of her seat with unexpected vigour. She began to pull at a box from the base of the mountain, and Lestrade barked a "careful Donovan!" automatically. But he could not deny the surge of excitement that coursed through him.
With a cry of triumph, Sally pulled out a box, slammed it down in his desk and ripped off the lid.
With juxtaposition, she carefully took out the meagre contents and shared it between them.
They began to thumb through the contents.
"Charlie Owen Colfer, aged 26, PhD student at Bart's Medical School." Sally coughed.
Lestrade's hopes sank a little. "Anything else?"
"Last seen leaving Bart's with his boyfriend."
"Name?"
"John Hamish Watson. Twenty five at the time. Medical student. No criminal record to speak of. Medical records are sound. Same for Colfer, to mention it."
Lestrade brows furrowed. There was something here, something intrinsic, floating, and just outside his grasp.
But something, something inside him, whispered that this John Watson was the key at the heart of this mystery.
"Sir?"
"Get me John Watson's current address. And I want his updated file on my desk. Tomorrow. We need to get to the bottom of this."
Lestrade recalled the accusing eyes of his superiors and the angry cries of the public. "And soon."