“What about the other two?”
“There are a further two male samples. No matches found on the database.”
Ryan was disappointed at the outcome, because it seemed the evidence was not in support of it being Keir Edwards’ handiwork. His DNA was very firmly on record, yet there was no match with the samples found on Amy Llewellyn. It wasn’t absolutely conclusive, but it certainly didn’t support his working theory. He wasn’t in the habit of swallowing humble pie and it slid down his throat with difficulty.
“That’s still great work, despite the fact we couldn’t find further matches on the system. ‘Every contact leaves a trace’, or so they say,’” he said laconically.
“Any idea where the bracelet came from?” MacKenzie asked.
“I showed a picture of it to Amy’s family,” Phillips interjected. “They don’t recognise it.”
“So, that’s something to look at. Once Faulkner has finished with it, I want you to research where it came from. Does the father check out?”
Phillips nodded.
“I’ll get around to talking to him again, but so far, both parents are clean. They had dinner, then stayed in the house all night when Amy went missing.”
“Blood runs thicker than water,” Ryan commented, thinking that family members often corroborated each other’s alibis.
“It does,” Phillips agreed, “but the original investigators could find no hard evidence against either of them.”
“Yet,” Ryan snapped. Now, they had Amy to help them find out the clues to her death and, so thinking, he turned back to Faulkner’s report.
“Faulkner’s still examining the fibres, so we’ll have to wait for the results.” He let the papers fall back onto his desk and rolled his shoulders. Time was marching on and he could feel his team starting to get restless.
“We interviewed the victim’s family this morning and the bottom line is that Amy was a clean-living girl, with a medical career ahead of her. At the time she went missing, her family were solid, too. Since then, her mother has suffered from recurrent anxiety and depression, which is common given the circumstances. Her father seems to have coped pretty well, all told.”
“The mother – Rose Llewellyn – didn’t have depression before Amy went missing?”
Ryan met MacKenzie’s sharp gaze and understood where her mind had wandered.
“That’s good thinking, but there’s no suggestion that Rose Llewellyn suffered from depression, or was prescribed any SSRI-based medication before Amy went missing.”
MacKenzie shrugged.
“Phillips has been looking into like crimes. Bring us up to speed, Frank.”
Phillips tore off a scrap of paper and wrapped his gum in it before speaking.
“Right. Aside from the number tallied up by The Hacker last year, there are a few cases which might be worth a second glance.” Phillips shuffled in his chair to ease the numbness in his rear, which was beginning to react to the hard plastic seat cover. “I had a bit of a gander at Missing Persons since 2005, locally, that is. Happens that I found a few other women who’ve gone missing since then.”
“That’s hardly surprising, Frank,” Ryan felt obliged to point out.
Phillips shooed away the comment with one broad hand.
“Give us a minute! I was going to say, all these women who went missing are the same type. They were all early-twenties, slight build, dark-haired. What’s more, they all went missing around June.” He wiggled his brows and thumbed through his notepad to find the list he had made. “Here we are: June 20th 2006, June 21st 2008, June 21st 2009, June 18th 2011 and then June 21st 2012.”
“Well,” Ryan clapped his hands together, to wake them all up. “Call me crazy, but I think there’s a pattern in there somewhere.”
“You’re darn tootin’ there is,” Phillips agreed.
“We’re looking at one or two-year gaps, if we work on the basis that these crimes are connected. Phillips, can I rely on you to carry on looking into the cold files and report back to us?”
“On it like a car bonnet, boss.”
Ryan flashed a grin. He could feel renewed energy building in the room.
“Hasn’t anybody noticed something else which is a bit … peculiar?”
MacKenzie rose from her chair and picked up a bright marker pen, then circled the dates.
“They’re all on or around 21st June.”
Phillips leaned back in his chair and looked heavenward. Ryan felt his stomach plummet to the floor. The young reader-receiver asked the obvious question.
“I don’t get it. Why’s that date so special?”