‘I’d finished what I had to do and they let me leave early. I went and got the Jeep from a back street where I parked it. The traffic was really busy, all single file and going
really slow; that’s when I saw her, standing at the lights.’
His voice had taken on a softer tone and when Anna looked at him his eyes were glazed over, staring not at her, but straight through her. The alteration in his voice bothered her, and again she
went back to Samuels’ assessment that Oates potentially had several different personality disorders. He was certainly behaving very differently to any previous interaction. He seemed very
depressed, and hardly moved his hands, but kept his fingertips pressed against the edge of the table. She forced herself to pay closer attention as Oates described seeing Rebekka.
‘She was looking so sweet, in her riding boots, carrying her hard hat, and she had this pretty Alice band, pink it was, made her face glow. She was so unsure about when to
cross.’
He gave a sigh and lightly ran his fingers along the table’s edge, almost as if playing a piano.
Anna knew that the Alice band was the one piece of evidence that Langton had kept out of the press. She made a note and then looked back at Oates as he had paused for a few moments.
‘“Hello, Rebekka,” I said, and I leaned over and opened the door. She remembered me and she said she was going home so I said to her that I was going that way and I could take
her there. She got in beside me. I had a car behind tooting at me to get moving cos the lights had changed so I drove off.’
Oates continued, describing how Rebekka had chattered on to him about her new pond and how he had driven all the way around the roundabout as if he was going to head to Hammersmith but took the
wrong turning.
When Oates spoke as Rebekka, his voice was childlike. He described how suddenly she had become afraid, saying that he was not going the right way and she knew how to get home as her father
always took the same route when he collected her from the stables. His hands went still and he dropped them into his lap. He told them how she started to get more and more frightened and nothing he
said would calm her down, so he had been forced to do something drastic. She had been trying to get out of the Jeep and he had no option but to do it.
Oates clenched his left fist, and demonstrated a vicious punch, just as he had before. He had struck Rebekka a few times until she went quiet.
‘I think, I am not certain, but I think I broke her neck.’
The silence was hideous. Neither Mike nor Anna could speak, and Kumar had his head bent forwards as if unable to take in the horror he was forced to listen to. It didn’t end, it took Oates
a few more moments of silence before he described his own terror, knowing what he had done, and knowing he had to do something to make sure he wouldn’t be caught with the child in the
car.
‘You know, I was in a stolen Jeep, I wasn’t even sure where the hell I was, but then it all became clear – I knew where I could take her, where she would never be found. I saw
an alleyway round the back of some houses so I went down there and threw out the spare wheel and put her body in the boot well. I went along Western Avenue, then on the M4 past Heathrow. I’d
been thumbing lifts that one time trying to get back home from the quarry and I reckoned that would be the best place to take her. It was getting dark and I was sweating in case I’d be picked
up for going too slow.’
He smiled, shaking his head, and continued to describe how he had eventually reached the quarry where he had tried to get work, but then changed his mind and found a back road and made for the
disused quarry, passing a heavily wooded area.
‘I was getting into a right state. I didn’t know where the road came out, but then I reckoned as there was no one around I’d get rid of her there.’
Oates chewed at his wet lips and this time drummed his fingers on the table.
‘Now, how about this? Left in the back of the Jeep was a spade, a big shovel – talk about lucky. Was I lucky? And she was feather-light and easy to carry.’
In the viewing room Barolli and Langton remained silent, listening as Oates professed his luck as he carried his little victim over his shoulder and made his way through the
woods. What surprised him was that after only a short while the wood thinned out and he was looking down into the disused quarry. He told them he had intended to toss the body in at first, but lost
his footing and slithered down the embankment; it was by now pitch-dark. He had the girl by her hair and the spade in the other hand and as soon as he had found firmer footing he dug a grave.
There was another lengthy pause as Oates opened a bottle of water and drank in gulps. He gave a ghastly smile.
‘Thirsty work.’
His eyes were bright, no longer glazed, and so Anna asked if he had removed Rebekka’s clothes. He snapped at her that she should mind her own business, and she could see the Oates she had
first questioned returning with a vengeance.
But it wasn’t over. It took a lot of carefully structured questions, stroking his sick ego, to see if he could recall the exact location. He swore that he could easily find it again as
he’d climbed all the way back up and then nearly killed himself.
‘I didn’t see the fucking ditch. I was in the wrong fucking gear and instead of going backwards I shot forwards smack bang into the fucking ditch and there was this soddin’ big
fir tree; the bonnet buckled up and it started smoking and the more I tried to rev it up and back out the more it got stuck.’
Oates described how he’d set the Jeep on fire, worried he might have left evidence inside, and then he ran and kept on running until he made it back onto a road and thumbed a lift. He was
gloating again, saying that no witness had ever seen him and all the press about the missing girl never mentioned her getting into a Jeep.
‘I was so in the clear it wasn’t true, but when I went back there I saw the fucking thing had gone. I thought the police had found the Jeep but then I saw it at the gypsy camp with
no plates or wheels on it.’
He hesitated and drank more water. Replacing the cap he shook the bottle.
‘Why not get it all off me chest, right?’
It was almost ten when Langton and the team gathered in the incident room. They now knew that Oates had returned numerous times to the same location – he even knew the
gypsy camp and had seen the stolen Jeep broken up amongst the other wrecks. He said he was certain there had been three more car thefts, three more victims, and he had become adept at stealing
vehicles, dumping the bodies and leaving the cars in a side street or anywhere he chose. He had kept the shovel hidden in the woods and he came to know the area like the back of his hand.
Oates was returned to his cell for the night as the exhausted team went over in some detail what the next move would be. There was no feeling of accomplishment or exhilaration;
their depression hung heavy. Langton said that they would need to arrange for a search team and Oates to be taken to the quarry as he had claimed he knew exactly where he had buried his victims.
Rebekka Jordan’s was the only name he could recall, managing just a sketchy description of the other women. He had made it very clear that he had not molested or sexually abused ‘the
little one’, only the women.
It would take time for a search of the quarry to be organized and any bodies found to be exhumed. First they needed another session with Oates to see if he could remember any
more details of the other victims and who the ‘trinkets’ he had kept might belong to. They would then transport Oates with armed officers to the disused quarry and from his directions
uncover the graves. Mike queried why they would need armed officers with Oates in handcuffs, and Langton said that as much as he disliked doing it he had to be aware of Oates’s safety in case
a disgruntled member of the public took a pop at him.
Everyone was tired. Langton suggested to Anna that she accompany him early the next morning to give the Jordans the news about their daughter, as it was too late to call on
them that evening. It was a duty that he had dreaded having to perform, but at least the Jordans might now be able to have closure. If their daughter’s remains were uncovered they could
arrange a funeral, but first the body would have to be carefully exhumed by a forensic archaeologist, followed by a full post mortem.
‘Let’s hope to God we find her,’ he said quietly.
Anna nodded as they walked out of the station together. She gave him a sidelong glance.
‘So what made Oates make the statement?’
Langton shrugged and said that he’d elaborated on what life would be like in Broadmoor.
‘But it’s closing down, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, but he doesn’t know that. I showed him these.’ He passed her the folded pictures that Joan had printed for him from her computer. She bleeped open her Mini, threw her
briefcase onto the passenger seat, and opened the pages, staring at the photographs of Peter Sutcliffe, the notorious Yorkshire Ripper. The second picture had been taken after he was seriously
assaulted with a razor blade by another inmate in Broadmoor. The hideous distortion of his features and his bloated face made him almost unrecognizable. Anna refolded the pages and put them on the
seat beside her. Sutcliffe now looked the embodiment of evil and whatever punishment had been forced on him, he deserved. Henry Oates would deserve as much, if not more.
A
nna had never known Langton to be so emotional. Not that he said anything; it was the way he constantly touched the knot of his tie and kept on
giving a light cough as if clearing his throat. The morning papers had been full of the news that a man was being held on suspicion of multiple murders and they had mentioned Rebekka Jordan’s
name. Langton was furious and extremely concerned that Mr and Mrs Jordan might have read about it before he and Anna had had time to warn them.
The Jordans’ front door opened before they even had time to ring the bell, and it was clear at once from the way they both stood there expectantly that the couple had
seen the papers. It was Stephen who asked them to come in and Anna noticed the way he reached out for his wife’s hand as he drew her into the kitchen.
Langton didn’t waste any time. He couldn’t, there was something heartbreaking about their tense frightened eyes.
‘We have a development. It’s not good news: we have made an arrest and I’m afraid the suspect has admitted to the murder of your daughter.’
‘Where is she?’ Stephen Jordan asked, all the while tightly gripping his wife’s hand. She was shaking so much, he had to put his arm around her shoulders.
‘We have a location, a disused part of a chalk quarry, and we will be searching for her and as soon as we know for certain we will contact you.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Stephen looked so confused, it was pitiful, as Langton attempted to explain in as comforting a way as possible that their detainee had admitted burying
their daughter. He added that they also suspected that the same person had been involved in other murders and he had agreed to help the police recover the bodies. Langton was so hesitant and unsure
of himself that Anna couldn’t help but move closer to the distraught couple. She took over.
‘The reason we are here is that the press have been informed of the arrest and we wanted to make sure you were aware of the possibility we will find Rebekka. If it is any comfort to you,
the suspect has adamantly denied that she was in any way sexually abused and we will endeavour to bring you details as soon as we have confirmation we have found her. Right now we just have the
suspect’s statement admitting to her abduction and murder.’
Stephen helped his wife to sit down. She was gasping, taking short breaths, her face was stricken, but it was as if she had already shed so many tears she was now unable to cry. The dreaded news
they had been waiting for was now confirmed. Five years of waiting and hoping were over. It was wretchedly sad and neither Anna nor Langton could ease the pain. They left as soon as it was apparent
the Jordans wanted to be alone.
Langton remained silent as they drove towards the station. Eventually, without looking at her, but staring out of the passenger window, he said quietly, ‘You
shouldn’t have said that.’
‘Said what?’
‘We don’t know if he was lying – you said there had been no sexual abuse; we don’t know that, we don’t even have her body. He might have cut off her bloody
head.’
‘For God’s sake, I was trying to give them some comfort.’
‘I know that,’ he snapped, pinching the brow of his nose and sighing. ‘Sorry, but comfort or not, you should never give out details that you are not certain about, and until we
find her and the post mortem has been completed we won’t know if it was a broken neck that killed her, or . . .’ He paused, shaking his head. ‘You know what really got to me? His
describing that fucking pink Alice band. As soon as he described it I wanted to put my hands round his neck and squeeze the life out of him.’
She agreed and continued driving as he got out his mobile phone, barking out instructions to Mike to begin coordinating the search of the quarry and organizing POLSA and underwater search teams
along with firearms officers for Oates. He then rang his surgeon for an appointment to see how his knee was recovering so he could get a clean bill of health. No sooner had he cut off that call
than his mobile rang again. As he answered Anna noticed his voice changed.
‘Good morning, ma’am.’
Langton listened to his caller and then gave her a brief update of the latest developments. He must have been asked about his health as he assured her that he would be fit and well that
afternoon. He repeated his thanks, and then said that he would be available and looked forward to the meeting. When he shut off the mobile he was smiling.
‘Good news?’
‘You could say that. Area Commander asking to see me – she’s given clearance for whatever we require for the search but wants a full update, so drop me off at the Yard.
It’ll be a big security job and I want a slew of men, plus a helicopter with all the new-fangled camera equipment. If that bastard buried his victims in the quarry we’re going to find
them.’