The Night Stalker Read Online Free Page A

with magnets.
    ‘The Internet and phone connections had also been cut off,’ added Nils.
    ‘Cut off from not paying the bill?’ asked Erika.
    ‘No, the Internet cable itself was cut,’ said Nils, moving to the kitchen counter and holding up a plastic evidence bag containing two pieces of cable. One was connected to a small modem. He held up another bag. ‘This is the victim’s mobile phone. The SIM card and battery are missing.’
    ‘Where was it found?’ asked Erika.
    ‘On the bedside table. It was still plugged in and connected to the charger.’
    ‘There’s no other phone in the house?’
    ‘Just the landline downstairs.’
    ‘So, whoever did this took the SIM and battery out of the phone after it had been put on the bedside table to charge?’ said Moss.
    Nils nodded. ‘It’s a possibility.’
    ‘Hang on, hang on,’ said Erika. ‘Was there anything else on the bedside table? The bedroom looks very bare.’
    ‘Apart from the phone, there was nothing else,’ said Nils. ‘We did, however, find these in the bedside table drawer.’ He held up another evidence bag containing four gay porn magazines: copies of Black Inches , Ebony and Latino Males.
    ‘He was gay?’ asked Erika.
    ‘And married,’ added Moss.
    ‘How old was he again?’
    ‘Forty-six,’ replied Moss. ‘He was separated from his wife. But these magazines are old. Look, they’re issues dated 2001. Why would he keep them here?’
    ‘So they were hidden, and he was secretly gay?’ asked Erika.
    ‘Maybe they’d been stashed away for years. Maybe he liberated them from the attic when his marriage broke down,’ said Nils.
    ’That’s too many maybe’s for my liking,’ said Erika.
    ‘We found the packaging for an individual microwave lasagna on the kitchen island. It was on a plate, and beside it was an empty wine glass and a half-full bottle of red wine. We’re about to send them off to the lab,’ said Nils. ‘You should also see this.’
    He took them through the large kitchen, past a big sagging sofa covered in felt-tip pen marks and a large tea stain. An overflowing box of toys sat between the edge of the sofa and the glass back wall looking out over the garden. The glass had been retracted, allowing the three of them to step out onto wooden decking. Erika savoured the drop in temperature. Floodlights had been put up in the back garden, which Erika could see extended down to a murky thicket of trees, where several figures in overalls were crouched down, examining the grass.
    They doubled back down a narrow gravel passage along the outside glass wall and came to a sash window, which was level with the sink in the kitchen. A drain below was giving off an evil, vomit-like smell.
    ‘We’ve dusted the window, the gutter pipes, the window of the house next door,’ Nils said. ‘Nothing. We did find this, though.’ He turned their attention to the base of the white-painted sash window. ‘See here, in the wood?’ His latex-gloved finger hovered over a small square impression in the gloss paint, no more than half a centimetre wide. ‘The window was forced up using a blunt flat instrument, perhaps a screwdriver.’
    ‘This window was closed when you arrived on the scene?’ asked Erika.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Good work,’ she said, looking back at the tiny impression in the paint. ‘Were there any footprints you could get from the gravel here?’
    ‘A mixture of vague impressions, could be a small pair of feet, but nothing we can make a cast from. Now, if we can come back inside,’ said Nils. They followed him back round the house, through the glass doors, into the kitchen to the other side of the sash window.
    ‘Can you see here, there should be sash stops,’ said Nils, indicating two small square holes on either side of the sash window frame.
    ‘What’s a sash stop?’ asked Moss.
    ‘Two small plastic hooks, which work on springs poking out of the inside of the upper second sash frame. They are there to stop the bottom