Sycamore Gap: A DCI Ryan Mystery(29)

Fatalistically, Ryan accepted that he was not going to be offered a reprieve. It was therefore better to face the question, head on.

“Last year, there was some circumstantial evidence linking Amy Llewellyn to Keir Edwards but not enough to charge him, or anyone else for that matter. At this stage, we are concentrating our efforts on gathering the forensic evidence which may, in time, confirm or deny any connection.”

“Was Amy murdered in the same way as your sister? Is it wise to continue running the investigation given your personal interest?”

Ryan’s face betrayed no emotion whatsoever. To all the world, he appeared unmoved by the question, but from her office at Durham University where she watched the interview later that day, Anna knew that he buried his pain somewhere deep in the alcove of his mind. He erected an emotional barrier around himself, one she suspected he renewed each morning, to ward off the demons he still fought at night.

“I will not be discussing any specifics. To do so would be highly improper and, speaking on the question of propriety, I should remind you that this is an open investigation. We are following all available leads, which calls for a Senior Investigating Officer with experience. You are all aware of my track record in the field, so I won’t bother to list the cases I have closed during my years of service.”

He cast his eyes over his audience, then trained his gaze directly into the television camera which had been set up squarely in front of him.

“What I will say is that, after what happened to Natalie Finlay-Ryan,” he could manage to get the words out, just so long as he didn’t say, ‘my sister’, “There is no-one better qualified to hunt the person who has deprived another family of a daughter, or of a sister. I won’t make Amy’s family any promises, except these: I will follow every line of enquiry. I will knock on every door and shine a light on every shadow. I will do everything within my power to find whoever is responsible. If fortune finds that they are already serving time for another offence, then I can promise that there will be no barrier to further prosecution, because I understand that their loss is just as important. That’s all.”

Ryan stepped away and didn’t bother to look back. That was enough wind-bagging for now.



Another man tuned in to watch the interview when it was broadcast on the local news later that morning. He admired the seemingly effortless way that Ryan managed to bury his feelings beneath a professional exterior, projecting an air of strong dependability.

Bravo! He thought, with a touch of malice.

They would see how long his emotional reserves lasted, before the end.

He listened intently to the answers Ryan gave when the question of Amy’s connection to The Hacker came up and he found himself very, very dissatisfied.

In point of fact, he was furious.

How long would it take him to catch up? He knew that the police were slow, but he had given Ryan credit for being endowed with some small measure of intellect. Clearly, he had been over-generous in his assessment of the man.

For who could fail to see that only a person of the finest, most acute intelligence could have kept Amy’s death hidden from the world for so long?

Oh, how he wanted to tell him how it happened. He wanted to tell the story in all its magnificent detail, to savour it and have Ryan look upon him with amazement. In his heart, he knew that Ryan was just like him. Beneath that controlled exterior, there was an animal longing to break free of its boundaries and do what man was designed to do.

To kill. To exert his power. It was survival of the fittest and a punishment to those who were not worthy of mating with men such as himself.

It had taken him a while to understand his purpose and to appreciate fully why he had been born, but that night ten years ago had given him the answers he craved. Since then, life had been one long dance.

Ryan’s words re-played themselves over and over in his mind. Despite their kinship, he was severely disappointed in the Chief Inspector. He seemed prepared to credit Amy’s murder to a man who had been caught, of all things.

He would never have been so careless.





CHAPTER 7


“Claire Burns, aged twenty-two,” MacKenzie began without preamble. “We saw her straight away, as soon as we made it down the hill at around eight-thirty this morning.”

A large colour photograph of Claire Burns, taken from her driving licence, had been tacked up on the wall to the right of Amy Llewellyn. Casting his eye around the room, Ryan could see the men and women of CID committing her face to memory. They had convened in the Incident Room for a lunchtime briefing and Ryan even had the foresight to order in some sandwiches from the nearby deli, which his team attacked with gusto.