Bill Kitson
Read below for an extract from Chosen
The road
was a cul-de-sac; number 11, a small, neat semi. The garden
looked as tidy as the house. Nash was reminded of Joan Kelly’s
house. He was looking for similarities in the lifestyle of the
missing girls. Here was one, albeit a tiny one.
‘Quick refresher before we go in.
Julie Cummings disappeared in November 1991, when she was
eighteen. She was a student at Grantham Technical College. In
good health, wasn’t in a relationship, nor had she been. Last
seen leaving college after an evening class; intending to
catch a train back to Barkston Frome. She wasn’t sighted at
either station, or on the train. She was never seen again.’
Nash laid the file on his lap as he
pondered what he’d just read. ‘Probably the most significant
fact is that she wasn’t seen on the train.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Julie was strikingly attractive.
Not someone people would miss. The train was at 20.25 and was
a local service. It was a wet night, mid November. If the
train was a quarter full, I’d be surprised. Passengers would
probably have remembered her if the train had been packed,
certain to have done so if it was almost empty.’
‘What do you deduce from that?’
‘I very much doubt if Julie got on
that train. In fact, I don’t think she even reached Grantham
station.’
As Nash was thinking, he saw the
bright sunlight of the afternoon fade. He visualized a rainy
November night as he waited in the car. The meagre light from
a street lamp glistened on the rain-soaked tarmac. Ahead of
him a modern, two storey-brick building, functional in design
like a hospital, a school, or a college. He let out a sigh. He
was sure now, certain of exactly what had happened to Julie
Cummings.
‘Mike?’ The single word was sharp
with concern. Nash blinked and looked at Mironova. She was
staring at him. ‘You alright?’
‘He was waiting for her,’ Nash
whispered, ‘waiting in his car, outside the college. He was
waiting because he knew she’d be there. He sat there in the
street. It was no matter of chance. He knew Julie was inside
the building, knew she’d be coming out. He knew she was
attending a lecture, knew what time it would end, probably
even knew the subject.’
‘Mike!’ Clara protested.
‘When Julie came out of the
college, he still waited,’ Nash continued as if he hadn’t
heard Mironova. ‘Waited to make sure she was alone. He had to
be sure she wouldn’t be being met or picked up. He had to be
sure he’d have her all to himself. Then he started his engine
and crept after her. He crept along, keeping far enough back
so Julie didn’t suspect she was being followed. When he judged
the time was right, sure she was alone, when he was sure he
could claim her, he pulled the car alongside and wound the
window down.’ Nash spoke in a whisper. The menace was louder
than a shout. ‘Hello, Julie. I thought it was you. Can I offer
you a lift? It’s on my way. It’ll be better than getting
colder and wetter. Have you been at college? Jump in then, and
when you get home, you’d better take those wet things off
straight away. We don’t want you catching your death of cold.’
‘Mike, stop it please.’ Mironova
had witnessed this before but was still appalled yet
fascinated by Nash’s scenario.
‘Sorry, Clara.’ Nash smiled
ruefully.
‘How do you do that? It sounds so
realistic. Almost as if you were there. I know that’s
impossible, but anyone else would have been convinced.’
‘I have the advantage of knowing
the killer must have been acquainted with his victims. Well
enough for them to be at ease with him. From there it’s just a
small step to imagining how he achieved the abduction.’
‘It might seem a small step to you,
but it sounded like a giant leap to me. Do you mean you
actually visualized that taking place just now?’
‘Something of the sort.’
‘If it happened as you imagined,
like you said, it had to be someone who knew Julie. She
wouldn’t have jumped into a stranger’s car?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And you think that was the case
with all of them?’
‘Yes, I think so. All we have to do
is find the one person all the girls knew, and we’ve the
identity of their killer. Couldn’t be simpler.’
‘Of course not: dead easy.’
