The Boneyard: A gripping serial killer crime thriller. Mark Sennen
they did find them?’
‘The bodies? Yes.’ Kendwick nodded but continued to stare at the world rushing by. ‘But it was like finding a needle in a haystack. Sheer chance.’
‘I see.’
Now Kendwick did look back at Savage. ‘And when they did find them, most were so badly chewed up by wild animals or so decayed that they didn’t discover anything useful. No forensic evidence which could link the killer to the crime scenes.’
Savage took a deep breath. They had three hours or so but now was as good a time as any.
‘Mr Kendwick, let’s not play any more silly games. I don’t know whether you did or didn’t kill those girls. If you did then I’m with Rollins. I hope they find some evidence and extradite you. And not to California. Arizona would be my choice too, understand?’
‘I’m hurt.’ Kendwick made a sad face. Reached up with his hands and made his mouth droop like a clown’s. ‘We were getting along so nicely. Now you’ve ruined everything. Still, don’t worry about it. You see, even if I was guilty, there’s no way the nice legal system here would allow my extradition to the States. Not with execution on the cards. The European Convention on Human Rights wouldn’t allow it. They don’t bother with that sort of thing in America of course. Human rights. From the way you’re talking, you might be a wee bit happier living over there.’
‘I just want you to know where I’m coming from, Mr Kendwick. I can’t abide deliberate cruelty and what happened to those girls was beyond cruel.’
‘Like I told Rollins, I didn’t kill them. Janey Horton, she set me up. What she did to me was way out of order, beyond cruel, if you want to put it that way. I’m the person whose human rights were violated.’
‘Or not.’ Enders. From up front. His hands clenching the wheel as he stared at the road ahead. ‘If you did kill those girls, then kudos to the lady cop.’
Savage cursed. This wasn’t the way she wanted to play things. The whole point of the journey was so they could have a quiet word with Kendwick, not get into some sort of slanging match.
‘That’s enough, Patrick. Concentrate on your driving.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘If we could just start over, Mr Kendwick. Devon and—’
‘Malcolm.’ Kendwick smiled. Those teeth again. ‘I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be seeing quite a lot of one another so we might as well keep this friendly, don’t you think?’
‘OK, Malcolm,’ Savage said. ‘As I was saying, Devon and Cornwall Police are agnostic on whether you committed those crimes in the US. However, we have a duty to protect those we serve. That duty extends to considering all the possibilities and putting plans into place to contend with every eventuality. To put it another way, should you even drop a piece of litter or park your car on a double yellow line, we’ll be onto you.’
‘Well, Charlotte, it’s good of you to be honest with me. I like that. Honesty in a relationship. And I hope we’re going to have a relationship.’
‘Now, there’s a way round this.’ Savage ignored the way Kendwick was attempting to flirt with her. ‘My boss has a proposal. If you consent to wearing an electronic tagging device then the need to keep an eye on you would vanish. You’d be able to go about your day-to-day life without scrutiny, without even a suspicion the police were harassing you. How would you feel about that?’
Kendwick laughed but then shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t feel good about it at all. It would be, how can I put this, a fucking imposition. What’s more, by letting you tag me I’d be admitting there was something for you to be worried about. Highlighting my guilt. I don’t think my legal team in the US would be very keen for me to do that, do you?’
Kendwick’s mood had darkened. The laugh had been ironic and the smile which had followed quickly turned to a grimace. Now he glared at Savage, his pupils like pinheads, a tiny red vein in the sclera of his left eye pulsing fast in time with his heartbeat.
The jokes earlier about capital punishment, the joshing and word play over whether he’d killed the girls, hadn’t touched him. This, though, had caused him to anger and, she realised, it wasn’t to do with civil liberties or any legal niceties. It was because if Kendwick had to wear a tag the police would be able to track his every move. He’d be free to go about his daily life, but he wouldn’t be free to do what he really wanted to do.
She held Kendwick’s gaze for several seconds but then had to turn away and stare through the window at the traffic. His eyes had told her everything she needed to know. Malcolm Kendwick was one of the most dangerous men she’d ever had the misfortune of meeting.
M4 Motorway, west of Reading. Sunday 16th April. 10.34 a.m.
From Reading onward, Kendwick dozed. At some point, he jerked awake, disorientated, muttering a string of obscenities. He apologised. Jet lag, he explained, before slumping over and resting his head against the window.
In the front, Riley and Enders chatted in low whispers, but Savage found it impossible to follow the conversation enough to be able to join in. Instead, she tried to rest herself. An hour or so later, Kendwick woke and wanted to stop.
‘A comfort break,’ he said. ‘I could do with something to drink too.’
A few miles farther along the motorway, just beyond Bristol, Enders took the slip road to Gordano services and parked up a little way from the main building.
‘I’d forgotten how grim these places were,’ Kendwick said, as he climbed out of the car. ‘Piss-and-shit stops, overpriced confectionery and crap coffee, right?’
‘The coffee’s got marginally better, but everything else is just how you left it.’
‘Let’s hope the same applies back in Devon.’ Kendwick smiled and then strolled off towards the building.
‘Do you want me to go after him, ma’am?’ Enders said. ‘Check he doesn’t get up to no good?’
‘No. He’s not under arrest. Let him go to the toilet in peace. If bodies start turning up in the next half-hour then we’ll know who did it.’
Savage walked across to several picnic tables which sat on a patch of grass to one side of the car park. Riley remained to talk to Enders and then, after a moment or two, joined her.
‘I’ve sent Patrick for some coffees,’ Riley said. ‘Reckon we could all do with a pick-me-up.’
‘Thanks.’ Savage moved to one of the tables and sat down. She nodded at Riley to sit too. It was the first time they’d been able to talk since they’d picked Kendwick up. ‘What do you think of our passenger?’
‘He’s a cool one, for sure.’ Riley gazed towards the main entrance of the service station. Kendwick had just pushed in through the doors and disappeared from view. ‘All the joking and the double entendres. Would he really act like that if he’d killed those women?’
‘I think his behaviour is very carefully calculated. It’s a double bluff. Or even a double double bluff. He knows that we know that he knows that we know.’ Savage paused. ‘What about Kendwick as a man, as a person?’
‘Tosser.’ Riley smiled. ‘But then us blokes are pretty shallow when judging each other.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s about the competition for a mate, isn’t it? Kendwick’s got all the attributes: good-looking, intelligent, talkative, well-off. Lesser mortals, such as myself and DC Enders, feel threatened.’
‘Don’t put yourself