The Last Girl

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The Reckoning

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The Burning

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The Missing

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The Last Girl

Now this is quite an unusual one. The crime scene we've been called to is in Wimbledon – 4 Endsleigh Drive. The victims are Vita and Laura Kenford, a mother and daughter who've been killed in their sitting room. Laura, the daughter, has had her throat cut. The father, Philip Kenford, is a QC, who was also attacked and knocked unconscious in his bedroom. The only person who's remained unharmed is Laura's twin sister, Lydia. She and her father seemed to have been outside by the swimming pool at the time of the murder, and haven't heard a thing.

It's a cul-de-sac of six houses, all worth a fortune, with gates and high hedges, and the Kenfords had an alarm system, but there's no evidence of a break in.

Godley and Derwent have come across Kenford in previous cases – they think he's unscrupulous. And Godley thinks he's a massive liar. There's certainly a lot that he seems to be unwilling to tell us, given his daughter and his wife have both just been brutally slaughtered in his own home...

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The Reckoning

Being on a murder squad, it's not as though any of my cases are nice, but this one's particularly bad. So far, there are two victims within a mile of each other in the south London area in the last 24 hours – both men who've been brutally tortured, mutilated and killed. I have to find out what they had in common, as we're pretty sure it's the same person who committed both murders, and why they wanted them dead. Because they've got injuries consistent with being interrogated – their autopsy reports read like an Amnesty International briefing document on torture...

Victim 1 – Ivan Tremlett

He was a self-employed software designer, who lived in Clapham, just off the Common, with his wife and two sons. His body was found in his office space in Sidley Street, Brixton. His wife (Claudia Tremlett) became concerned when he failed to return home by 6pm, as he always followed the same routine.

He'd been brutally tortured, mutilated and killed and his computer equipment had been comprehensively destroyed.

Victim 1 – Barry Palmer

He was unemployed, 43 years old, and lived alone in a two-bedroomed house. His sister had become concerned after not having heard from him, and gone round to his house, let herself in and found him. Also brutally tortured, mutilated and killed.

Both had criminal records, and there's no shortage of people who might want to see them dead. I've got a feeling they're not going to be the last victims of this particular killer, but what's their connection to a missing 14 year-old girl from Hertfordshire?

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The Burning

Four women dead and no leads

And now there's another body. Another young woman. He's done it again...

The newspapers have christened him 'The Burning Man'. We need to catch him, and soon. But the fact that we're on our way to see another body proves that we aren't even close. And who he is – why he even does it in the first place – is as much a mystery now as it was four victims ago.

The women have been battered beyond all recognition before they're set alight. The pathologist has said he paralyses them with a stun gun first, and then ties his victims' hands in a distinctive way: palms outward, thumb to thumb in front of their chests, using generic gardening twine that cuts into their flesh. He's clearly taking no chances that they might fight back...

Superintendent Godley hates the fact that the media have given our killer a nickname. It turns him into a celebrity, it grants him notoriety, it's let him join the select club of killers whose crimes have passed into infamy. It was what the killer wanted. And that's highly dangerous.

But Godley also thinks that so far, he's just been very lucky. If we knew how he was getting the women to trust him, we'd have arrested him by now. But that's the only remarkable thing about him, in Godley's view – he's adamant we aren't hunting some master criminal. There are sixty officers investigating this case – but is the fifth body we've found really the work of the Burning Man? I'm not so sure...

So far, this is what we know:

The Burning Man is active on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights

Locations and Victim Profiles:

Victim 1: Nicola Fielding
Age: 27
Killed: early hours of Friday, 18th September
Body found: South-west corner of Larkhall Park, less than half a mile from her home in Clapham
Appearance: Blue eyes, long brown hair and wearing heels and a very short skirt

She'd been on a friend's hen night, and caught the night bus home. Her stop should have been a ten minute walk to where she was living, as a nanny for a couple called the Copes.

Beaten to death with a blunt instrument – likely to be a hammer. Then set alight.

Victim 2: Alice Fallon
Age: 19
Killed: Saturday 10th October
Body found: Recreation ground in Vauxhall, not far from New Covent Garden market
Alice was a student living in Battersea, killed between eleven and midnight, walking back from a night out in Vauxhall.

Victim 3: Victoria Muller, a care assistant
Age: 26
Killed: 30th October
She finished work at 4am and accepted a lift home from a colleague, who dropped her off in Stockwell. Her body was found in a small overgrown park in front of a condemned apartment block.

The killer took two silver rings that Victoria had made herself.

Victim 4: Charity Beddoes
Age: ?
Killed: 20th November
Body found: Body dumped in Mostyn Gardens, between Kennington and Brixton. Left a house party in Kennington after a row with her boyfriend.

She was a student at LSE, and lived in Brixton.

Victim 5: Rebecca Haworth
Age: 28
Killed: 26th November
Body found: Body found Stadhampton Grove – part of an industrial estate behind the Oval cricket ground.

But I think the MO doesn't seem to fit exactly with the others – her face hasn't been touched. I'm suspicious that the level of violence has diminished when all the other murders suggested that the killer was escalating. The more I investigate it, the less it rings true...

I'm suspicious of Rebecca's ex, Gil Maddick – Rebecca seemed to have been obsessed with him; was he abusive to her? My gut feeling is there's something off about him – all her friends say that he was very possessive.

And what's the story behind Rebecca having left her job, but not telling anyone about it? What was she hiding?

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Back to Jane Casey

The First Day

I was going to be sick.
I couldn't be sick.
The lift lurched to a halt and a couple of people got out, leaving me alone. I closed my eyes, swallowed, and wished it was the end of the day, not the start. It was first-day nerves and they would go, I told myself, once I'd got used to my new colleagues and the work on a murder squad, a team I couldn't believe I'd been asked to join.
I might even start to feel as if I deserved to be there.
The lift doors opened: third floor, and my stop. I glanced in the mirror on the way out: my hair was out of control and I was pale. It was nothing I could do anything about at that moment, not with a heavy cardboard box to carry. A cardboard box that I almost dropped as I shouldered the door open and stepped into the office.
A vastly overweight, elderly detective with a purple-toned complexion leaned back in his chair. ‘Steady on, love. Need a hand? Who is that lot for?'
‘It's mine. I can manage.' I scanned the room, not seeing any familiar faces or empty desks. ‘I'm Maeve Kerrigan. I'm joining the team.'
‘Are you indeed?' His forehead folded itself into a hundred wrinkles. ‘They said someone was coming up from Borough. They didn't say what you were like.'
‘And what's that?' I asked icily.
‘Young and lovely.' He beamed. ‘No offence, darling.'
‘None taken,' I lied. There was no point in complaining about it. He meant well. I assumed.
He put out a hand. ‘Sam Prosser.'
I hefted the box, trying to free a hand, and he shook his head.
‘Sorry. You need a desk, don't you?'
‘That would help.'
‘There's one free over there.' He pointed.
I thanked him and hauled my box over to the desk. It was in the middle of the room, and I felt highly exposed as I started to unpack. Most of the eyes on me were friendly. Some were openly hostile. All were male. I'd known I was going to be the only woman on the team, but I hadn't realised how that was going to feel.
‘Ah, Maeve. You're here.' Superintendent Godley stopped beside me, coffee in hand. ‘We'll have an office meeting in five minutes. I'll introduce you to everyone.'
‘Great,' I said, flustered, and watched him disappear into his office. I wished I'd told him not to bother. I wanted to blend in, not stand out.
I came back to my desk after the meeting with my head spinning from all I'd tried to take in about the cases that were current in the department. I was still blushing from Godley's welcome speech. He'd been far too nice about me, and had gone on for too long. My desk was empty apart from a cardboard folder. My first case. I picked it up and started to leaf through the contents, feeling the glow of excitement dim and fade away altogether after the first few images. Women. Dead women. Or rather, parts of them – close-ups of violation and degradation and torture. They were crime-scene and autopsy pictures, from countless different cases, and as a collection they were offensive beyond belief.
I flipped through to the end, not hurrying, hoping that my face didn't betray what I was feeling. Just before I got to the last page I glanced up, and caught a couple of men watching me from the other side of the room. One was lanky and balding, though he wasn't much older than me. He had been grinning like a chimp but he ducked his head and turned away when he realised he'd been spotted. The short, fat detective beside him kept staring, though, as if he was challenging me to react. I'd noticed him glowering at me in the briefing room. And he'd been standing near the door. I closed the folder and walked across the office to where he sat.
‘I think you left your folder on my desk.'
His eyes travelled up and down my body. ‘Not me.'
‘I think it was.' I opened the folder again, and found a picture of a torso that had been recovered from water. ‘That one's nice. Is that your favourite?'
He shrugged. ‘Does it bother you?'
‘Not as much as you'd hoped it would.' I tilted the folder so the contents slid out and scattered all over the floor. ‘Silly me.'
He dropped to his knees and began to rake them together, swearing under his breath. They had gone a long way, sliding on the thin brown carpet, as far as the door to Godley's office, which explained his panic. His colleagues – my colleagues – turned to watch as he crawled around gathering them up. A broad, gravel-voiced detective grinned.
‘Dropped your wank book, have you, Belcott?'
Belcott glared.
I leaned down so only he could hear me. ‘That was funny. Next time, don't bother. I'm not going to have hysterics over a few pictures.'
‘How does it feel to be making up the numbers? You're only here so Godley can tick that box on the equality survey.'
‘Wrong. I'm here to do my job. Get used to it or get stuffed.'
I turned and stalked away before he could answer, leaving him grovelling on the floor. I was shaking from suppressed tension, hurt and anger, emotion that was threatening to come out in tears. I couldn't allow him the satisfaction. I went straight past my desk and out through the double-doors to the corridor, where I collided with a tall, dark man in a suit.
‘Easy, tiger.'
‘Sorry.' I was acutely conscious of the tears in my eyes. I cleared my throat. ‘Going too fast for my own good.'
‘Where are you going?'
‘I was looking for the kitchen.'
He grinned. ‘That is a reason to hurry. It's definitely time for a cuppa. Come on, I'll show you.'
I followed him down the corridor, feeling the ache in my throat lessen. I appreciated his tact since he couldn't have missed how upset I had been. By the time we reached the kitchen, I was approaching normal.
‘I'm Maeve Kerrigan.'
‘I know. I was in the briefing.' He filled the kettle. ‘Rob Langton. Welcome to the team.'
‘Thanks.'
Without looking at me, he said, ‘You'll be all right, you know. They'll get used to having a woman around eventually. The novelty will wear off. Even Belcott will come to terms with it soon.'
‘Can't happen soon enough for me.'
‘I bet. So where were you before?'
Normal conversation. Thank God.
Rob made tea, we talked about work things and by the time I got back to my desk I was prepared to accept that not all of my new team were hateful chauvinist pricks. Feeling more like I could cope, I put the mug beside my keyboard and sat down. I was still aware of being watched, but I was getting used to it. Before I could even switch my computer on the door to Godley's office opened. He came straight across to my desk.
‘I've got a job for you, Maeve. Get your stuff together and let's go.'
So I went.
And that was the start of everything.

Back to Jane Casey

Born and brought up in Dublin, Jane Casey has been twice shortlisted for the Irish Crime Novel of the Year Award. She is the author of The Missing and two previous Maeve Kerrigan novels The Burning and The Reckoning.

Married to a criminal barrister, Jane lives in south-west London.

Jane has also written a Young Adult novel, How To Fall.

Follow Jane on Twitter:

@JaneCaseyAuthor

The First Day

I was going to be sick.
I couldn't be sick.
The lift lurched to a halt and a couple of people got out, leaving me alone. I closed my eyes, swallowed, and wished it was the end of the day, not the start. It was first-day nerves and they would go, I told myself, once I'd got used to my new colleagues and the work on a murder squad, a team I couldn't believe I'd been asked to join.

Read an exclusive Maeve Kerrigan short story