“Can you trace his mobile or his vehicle?”

Crystal nodded. She went back to her workstation and returned with an address. “I tried to find out where this place is but according to satellite, it’s the middle of nowhere. Liam’s standing in the middle of nowhere.”

Sophia stopped at home before heading out of the city. She had no idea what to expect and Liam wasn’t picking up his mobile. It took five hours for her to reach her destination in the rain. Each minute that passed made her angrier. He expected her to get past her feelings with Marc, but it wasn’t bloody easy.

Guilt hit her. Why was she expecting him to get over a wife’s death? Especially when the killer kept taunting him? The killer didn’t have to face any consequences. She needed to be more understanding.

When she approached the address she had programmed into her GPS, police lights lit up the dark night. What was Liam up to? What had she stumbled across? She pulled out her government credentials. She rarely used them but today she would need it to get past the yellow line.

She was going to ask the officer listing personnel what had happened but she thought she should appear to know or perhaps she wouldn’t be allowed in. The police constable looked closely at her information, pointed in the direction all officers were heading, and lifted the police tape.

“Thank you,” she replied cautiously.

In the dark it was difficult to spot Liam, but finally she caught sight of him standing at the edge of a large hole in the ground. She couldn’t see what the hole contained but from the look of the other officers, it mustn’t be pretty.

“Fourteen,” one officer told another as they went by, toward where she came from, “and we haven’t even started. They must have been using this site for years. I can’t believe we’ve only discovered it today.”

Sophia approached Liam and stood by his side. He didn’t even turn to face her. When she finally mustered up the courage to look down, she saw a mass grave. Bodies wrapped in various types of plastic lay one on top of the other. One by one, the team of pathologists were lifting the bodies onto the ground under a setup tent.

“Who are these people?” she asked Liam.

He turned to look at her. “What are you doing here?”

“You haven’t been answering your mobile.”

“So you thought you should drive out all this way in the dark?”

“Who are these people?”

“The unwanted, Evans. Used and disposed of, like tissue paper.”

“Who did this?”

“Who do you think, Evans?” he said angrily. “Which sick bastard would be capable of killing to this degree?”

Sophia didn’t want to state that she knew plenty of sick bastards capable of this type of genocide, but she figured that would only anger him further. Besides, she knew who he believed the killer was and she didn’t really want to bring that up again, not that Stewart’s evil ways weren’t right before his eyes.

“So do the police have any idea why these people have been killed?”

“Sadly, they were killed because they were valueless. Useless to him. Probably prostitutes that worked for him or his high-end clients, those from Eastern Europe who weren’t here legally and when they weren’t going to make him money, outlived their usefulness.”

“But there are children. They could have been useful adults.”

“I’m sure some of the children are. However not these ones.”

“What makes them different?”

“So far, each child we’ve dug up has been missing organs, multiple ones. What does that tell you?”

“Stewart’s organization has been selling organs?”

“We think so. Unfortunately, a child can’t live without their hearts or their livers.”

“Surely they can’t be selling these. Who would perform the operation?”

“Don’t be naive, Sophia. If you imagine these things don’t happen in Britain, you’re sorely mistaken. Those with money live a lot differently than those without. When they get sick, they are able to buy themselves out of their health condition.”

“I thought that Stewart only involved himself in drugs and guns. How do we know this is his work?”

“He lures them here with the hope of a better life. I wonder how long it takes for them to realize that’s not what they’ll receive? I’ll place my bets that all of the women have drugs in their system at time of death. They keep them high to keep them dependent. Or it wouldn’t surprise me if they believe their family’s lives are in danger unless they obey.”

“How do we know it’s Gikhrist?”

He rubbed his eyes. “I know it’s him, Evans. This is his work.”

Liam’s face didn’t change expression.

A small bony hand fell out of the black plastic it was wrapped in and hung while the men pulled the body from the pit. Sophia put her hand to her mouth. It was so tiny. The hand of a small child.

“That’s one of the children. They’ve recovered five already.”

Sophia wanted to sit down on the dirt because she felt weak, but instead she grabbed at Liam’s elbow to steady herself. He placed his hand on hers.

“He’s not perfect. He’ll make a mistake and when he does, we will get him. I will get him.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Theo approached the murder site in Streatham. He met his team at the rendezvous point in the common garden that attached three blocks of flats. The neighbors seemed eager to find the reason behind the excitement in the small fourth floor flat. Not that they hadn’t seen loads of police cars and flashing lights before. Although groups of people stood in the twilight, Theo caught sight of Dorland talking with the coroner.

“Blackwell,” Waynton said, slapping him in the back and sending him forward two steps. “I was reminding my nephew of the time we went fishing up north one summer. He dropped his pole in the water, got naked and dove down to get it, coming up instead with leeches.” He howled loudly, turning the heads of onlookers, who shook their heads when they found his joking manner inappropriate.

Dorland just nodded his head; he was putting on a white protective suit. “I know the story, not sure if I remember it the way you do though. Don’t think I stripped down naked.”

“Ah, Dorland, don’t you worry. My wife has the photographic evidence.”

“Well, in my defense, I was only nine.”

“Twelve, lad, twelve.” With a heave, Waynton made his way into the block of flats.

They followed a plastic sheet laid down from the SOCO van to the door. It had rained during the day and mud had built up underneath.

Dorland said, “Ready for a hike? Four flights of stairs and no working lift.”

As they hiked up the green concrete steps in the dimly lit stairwell to the fourth floor they passed families watching the commotion from their open doors. Dorland filled Theo in on what he knew. “Woman, named Sharon Yoder, in her thirties. Single. Stabbed once. No one seems to have witnessed the murder or anyone unusual leaving the building but the complex here is large and there are people coming and going all the time. Nothing seems to be stolen in her flat, but it would be difficult to tell because we don’t know what she had to begin with.”

“Who found the body?”

“The woman in the flat across the hall said about three or so she heard a thud and then nothing. She dismissed it. But later, as she was binning her rubbish, she spotted Ms. Yoder’s open door and, out of curiosity, went to have a look. She rang the police and the manager of the flats. The door was open and she was lying there in plain view. But because she had the flat at the end of the hall, no one went past by her door.”

Dorland waved to one small girl of three that had a finger up her right nostril and her thumb in her mouth. They had finally reached the fourth floor and headed to the last apartment on the left. A man in his fifties with many keys hanging from his belt met them half way.