The Night Stalker

‘Yes.’

‘Was the baby monitor on all night, Mrs Murphy?’ asked Erika.

‘Please, call me Cath. Yes. It was on all night. Our bedroom is next door. I check on Samantha often.’

‘How often is that?’

‘Every three hours. I set my alarm.’

‘Do you know what time the piece of clothing went missing?’

‘I can’t be sure. I didn’t notice until this morning.’

‘And you heard nothing unusual through the baby monitor? Nothing that, in hindsight, was odd?’ asked Moss, moving over and holding out her finger. The little girl grabbed it in her tiny hand and giggled.

‘No. Samantha is a very quiet little baby. I didn’t put two and two together until I heard the commotion outside. Is it true that Jack Hart was found strangled? Much like that doctor was a couple of weeks back?’

‘We can’t comment on the case,’ said Erika.

‘This is my home! I have a right to know!’

‘We are treating his death as suspicious. That’s all we can say.’

‘He was a nice man. Jack Hart. He was one of the only people on the street who always said hello. He stopped to ask about Samantha. Put a congratulations card through the door. Nothing like the man on the television.’

‘Has anyone been round in the last couple of weeks, asking door-to-door about security alarms?’ asked Moss.

‘Not that I know of. I can ask my husband when he gets back.’

‘When is he back?’

‘Late, tonight. He works in the city.’

‘Okay. Was one of these windows open last night? There’s no sign of forced entry.’

The woman looked guilty. ‘Yes, but I only opened it a little. This area is usually so safe, and we’re tucked in here amongst the houses. It was such a hot night. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to keep her warm, but I didn’t want her to overheat. You hear all these conflicting things about babies…’ She started to cry and clutched the little girl tighter.

‘Is Samantha your first?’ asked Moss. Her finger was still grasped in the little girl’s tiny fist. Cath nodded. ‘It’s tough being a mum,’ Moss said. ‘Everyone’s doing it, but no one wants to admit how hard it is. And I’m talking as a police officer.’

Cath relaxed a little, and smiled. Erika looked around at the freshly painted nursery, half-listening to Moss and the neighbour talking about children. She pushed her maternal feelings to the back of her mind and went over to the window, peering out at the grass on the other side.

‘And you’re sure your husband or a nanny hasn’t taken the jacket to be washed?’

‘We don’t have a nanny. I’ve searched the house, and the laundry. I am the only one who gets up for her during the night, and she’s too small to undo all the tiny buttons…’ Cath’s voice trailed off again; she clutched little Samantha tight. ‘Why would someone do that? It’s just sick. It’s deliberately spreading fear. I’m locking all of the windows. I’m never going to open them again!’

Erika and Moss emerged from the house a few minutes later.

‘I want that nursery fingerprinted from top to bottom. And every single garden in this row gone over with a fine-tooth comb,’ said Erika. ‘Whoever did this is going to have to slip up somewhere soon. He’s killed two people.’

‘So we’re talking serial killer now?’ asked Moss.

‘I don’t know. Why take the baby’s clothes, though, and leave the baby unharmed? It doesn’t add up. He’s also visited the victims’ houses beforehand, in broad daylight, and we’ve got nothing.’

‘We’ve got an ear print,’ said Moss.

Erika thought of the ear print again, its black outline on the fingerprint paper. It made her feel cold.

35

It was late when Erika returned home to her flat. When she unlocked the front door, the heat and darkness were overwhelming. She flicked the switch in the hall, but the light didn’t come on. She stood on the threshold in the darkness for a moment, and then the light in the communal hallway, which was on a timer, cut out. She was plunged into darkness.

Jack Hart’s face appeared in her mind. His eye trapped open under the plastic. A silent scream.

Erika took several deep breaths, came back out to the front entrance and pressed the timer switch. The lights came back on and began to make a light ticking sound. She came back into the threshold of her flat and pulled out her phone, activating the torch. It cast its bright arc of light over the inside of the flat and she cautiously made her way down the darkened hall and into the bedroom. She scrabbled on the wall and found the light switch, but nothing happened. She swung her arm from left to right, illuminating the corners of the room, crouching down to shine the light under the bed. She opened the wardrobe doors.