Like This, for Ever

obvious.’
    ‘Although the four boys – five including Tyler – lived within roughly the same area,’ Dana said, ‘and are of the same age and ethnicity, unfortunately the similarities seem to end there. They went to four different schools and we can find no evidence that either they or their families knew each other.’
    ‘Families all had different backgrounds,’ explained Anderson. ‘Ryan Jackson lived with his mum, who’s a single parent, and two younger siblings. Noah Moore was an only child of affluent, professional parents. Jason and Joshua’s father has been out of work for six months, their mother works part-time in a supermarket.’
    ‘Two of them were Cub Scouts but with different packs,’ said Dana. ‘All four – five including Tyler – played football, but you name me a ten-year-old boy who doesn’t.’
    ‘There’ll be a link somewhere,’ said Weaver.
    ‘I agree, Guv, but we’ve talked to everyone who knew those boys, including all their mates. Every detail has gone into the system andnothing’s come up other than the football connection, which we spotted ourselves.’
    As she spoke, Dana looked over at the HOLMES operator for confirmation. The Home Office Large and Major Enquiry System was a sophisticated intelligence system into which details of all major crimes across the UK were routinely fed. It could spot similarities, connections, links to other crimes in minutes. The operator, a drab middle-aged woman, shook her head. HOLMES, so far, hadn’t helped.
    ‘What about the coaches?’ asked Weaver. ‘Have you checked them out?’
    Anderson nodded. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘And boys’ football coaches are usually dads themselves. I can’t see this being a family man somehow.’
    The detective superintendent stood and walked closer to the board. The five boys grinned down at him. Ryan had a missing front tooth from a playground injury.
    ‘What’s he doing with them?’ he asked. ‘We know what he’s not doing, and we can all be grateful for that, but what does he want them for?’
    No one replied. They’d asked themselves the same question too many times. They’d got rather tired of endless answers that didn’t fit.
    ‘It’s not about rage, is it?’ he went on, looking from one boy to the next. ‘It’s all too cold, too careful. OK, tell me about the scenes. They’re not being killed where they’re found, are they?’
    ‘Pete,’ invited Dana.
    Stenning cleared his throat. ‘No, Sir,’ he said. ‘They’re not. There’s been no trace of blood at any of the sites where we found the bodies. They’re bleeding out somewhere else and that’s significant in itself, because each victim suffered extensive blood loss. It would be messy.’
    ‘Not to put too fine a point on it,’ said Weaver, fingering his shirt collar. He wore expensive shirts, Thomas Pink and Brioni, always perfectly laundered. ‘We’ve got prints, is that right?’ he went on.
    ‘Yes, Sir. Size-ten wellington boots, the sort that sells several hundred pairs a week. But there are distinctive marks in the prints,other than just the tread of the boot, so we know it’s the same pair at each of the three sites and if we find the boots themselves, we can match them.’
    Weaver nodded. It was something.
    ‘Pete, can you talk to the people who are analysing the prints?’ said Dana. ‘See if they appear normal?’
    Several pairs of puzzled eyes looked at her.
    ‘Normal how?’ asked Stenning.
    ‘I’m not sure. Can you ask, for example, whether they can get any idea of the weight of the person leaving the prints? A big, heavy bloke would make deeper prints than a fairly light one, don’t you think? So are these prints consistent with the size of man you’d expect to have size-ten feet?’
    Stenning still looked puzzled but he nodded. ‘I’ll ask,’ he said.
    ‘Neil’s been in charge of processing the immediate areas,’ Dana told Weaver. ‘What can you tell us, Neil?’
    ‘At first he seemed to be choosing his sites carefully,’ said Anderson. ‘Deptford Creek where we found Ryan, and Bermondsey where Noah was left, are both some distance from residential properties. They’re also generally quiet as far as traffic is concerned. He seemed to be keeping to a minimum the chances of someone spotting him, although the site at Bermondsey is directly across the river from Wapping police station. Tower Bridge, though, is a whole different ball game. It’s as though he’s growing in