Историческая библиотека. Том 8. Отсутствует
emanating from the living room. That slow, monotone slur creeping its way into her eardrum like an unwanted worm. It still sent shivers down her spine. She went downstairs, made herself some coffee and stood in the kitchen, listening to the TV in the other room. She couldn’t believe that Raven’s solicitor had launched the appeal in just three weeks, almost as if he had known the body parts were about to be found. Raven had been prepared. With his previous appeals exhausted, the discovery of Lorraine had brought new evidence to the case.
He’s dangerous.
More people will die if they let him out, why can’t they see that?
‘Why are you just standing there? You’re as white as a ghost, Maggie. Are you ill?’
Maggie snapped out of her daze. The TV had been switched off and she looked up to see her brother, Andy, standing in the kitchen staring at her.
‘I’m OK,’ she said. ‘What were you just watching?’
‘That weirdo, Bill Raven, the one who’s appealing his conviction – he’s speaking to some journalist. Telling his side of the story. Miscarriage of justice, he says, and an agency called the CCRC has taken his case. Who are they? There’s something not right about that guy. I know he has mental health issues, but those eyes … creepy if you ask me.’
Maggie gripped the handle of the mug in her hand. She watched as a drop of coffee tumbled through the air as if in slow motion and landed on her wood floor. She followed him into the living room. ‘The CCRC is an independent body that investigates cases where people feel they have been wrongly accused or convicted. It means he may get out.’
Sitting down next to her brother, Maggie placed the mug on the table and ran her fingers through her hair. Scrappy came into the room and rubbed against her leg. She picked up her furry friend and gave him a cuddle; he had a knack for relaxing her. She’d be lost without him. Andy switched the TV on again and there he was. She glared at the face which had haunted her sleep for months, the vile descriptions he used as he confessed to chopping up his victims. An icy tremor raced down her spine. Maggie vowed she would not let Bill Raven creep into her head again.
‘Seems like he’s winning everyone over with his bullshit. I don’t care what they think, he’s got to be involved. I mean, why would you confess to something you didn’t do?’
Maggie looked at her brother.
‘The journalist he was talking to said that the prison psychologist diagnosed delusions of grandeur or some such crap. Apparently, that’s why he confessed. How messed up do you have to be to claim to have killed three women, right? I think someone is jumping on the Making a Murderer bandwagon.’
‘Ha! Sounds about right, but this isn’t the US. I know there have been times when innocent people have been punished for crimes they didn’t commit; however, my gut tells me that’s not what happened here.’ Her leg shook with frustration. ‘I wish I could say more, Andy. Everything about this guy is not right.’ Shaking her head, Maggie continued, ‘Anyway, he’s taken up enough of my morning.’
‘Bit weird how the body parts just turned up, don’t you think? What if he wasn’t involved?’ Andy didn’t seem to take her hint.
Maggie shrugged her shoulders. ‘I can’t talk about an active case. All I know is that Bill Raven is hoping to use the coercion card to get out of jail free; we have another possible murderer lurking about and I’m being told to tread carefully and focus on the current investigation.’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, enough. What are you doing today?’
‘I’m on the afternoon shift for the next few days, so I’m just going to chill this morning. My work rota for this month is all over the place.’ He scratched his head. ‘You sure you’re OK? Don’t worry about that guy, he’ll get his comeuppance.’
‘Easier said than done, but thanks – I’m sorry for snapping. Look, I’ll see you in the morning, OK?’ Maggie grabbed what she would need for the day, put her coat on and headed to the door. ‘Make sure you lock this when you leave and don’t forget to let out Scrappy.’ She didn’t wait for an answer.
Maggie looked at her watch. She had some spare time and decided to walk the twenty minutes to the train station rather than jumping on the bus. With Andy using her car for work these days, public transport gave her the opportunity to get some exercise.
The train was packed with morning commuters, each in their own little world. She stared out the window – always amazed at the beauty of the surrounding rural landscape. Long grass filled with wildflowers and edged with brambles whooshed past as she rested her head against the glass.
When she arrived at Stafford train station, Maggie had a leisurely stroll through Victoria Park and headed over the footbridge towards the centre of town. The familiar quacks of ducks sounded like mischievous laughter. Fifteen minutes later, she walked into the police station, her mind still buzzing with news stories about Bill Raven’s recent appeal.
Maggie stopped short when she nearly bumped into her colleague, PC Bethany Lambert. She apologized, walked over to her desk and dropped her bag on the floor.
‘What’s eating you?’ Bethany raised an eyebrow.
‘Haven’t you seen the news? That arsehole is all over it. Since when did he get a personality transplant and elocution lessons?’ Maggie rolled her eyes. ‘What happened to the unshaven, gaunt, incoherent man I interviewed over two years ago? If they hadn’t had his name on the screen, I would never have recognized him.’
‘Look, maybe getting clean and taking the medication has worked? It’s possible …’
‘What the hell? Are you on his side?’ Maggie’s brows snapped together.
‘No. I’m just looking at everything objectively. We’re trying to focus on the actual killer, and if DI Rutherford heard the way you were talking, she’d shoot you down in a nanosecond. I know how you feel about all this, we all know how you feel about this, but you need to let your personal views go and focus on the evidence. He couldn’t have done it – he was behind bars when the murder was committed.’
‘Then tell me how he knew the name of the first victim, Lorraine Rugman?’
Bethany just shook her head.
‘Great …’ Maggie turned her back to Bethany and started up her computer.
‘Pull your big girl pants up and stop feeling sorry for yourself.’
Maggie would let that go. She knew deep down that Bethany and the whole team had her back. Bethany was right – Maggie was feeling sorry for herself.
‘Look, I’m sorry. I just would’ve liked a bit more support.’
‘Now that’s not fair. We all know why you arrested him – no one is questioning that. But we need to lock that away for the time being and focus on who is responsible for the recent killing. Clearly Lorraine Rugman and possibly the other two missing women, Yvonne Greene and Zoe Bridle, weren’t even dead at the time he confessed. They could still be alive for all we know.’
Maggie rubbed her forehead and imagined two women tied up somewhere, locked away for years, without anyone even looking for them. A chill ran down her spine.
Someone coughed and they turned to see DI Rutherford standing in the doorway. She glanced between them and swallowed. ‘They’re saying it was a false confession. That the police coerced it out of him, taking advantage of his mental illness and drug-induced psychosis.’ Rutherford paused, perhaps thinking that Maggie might interrupt, but she held back. ‘Mr Raven has agreed to speak to us in prison, to try and help us piece together what happened. To explain his reasoning and how he knew the name of the first victim. Before we start jumping to any conclusions, let’s wait to hear what he has to say, OK Maggie?’
‘Yes,