The Signature

THE SIGNATURE DI GILES BOOK 19 ANNA-MARIE MORGAN ALSO BY ANNA-MARIE MORGAN In the DI Giles Series: Book 1 - Death Master Book 2 - You Will Die Book 3 - Total Wipeout Book 4 - Deep Cut Book 5 - The Pusher Book 6 - Gone Book 7 - Bone Dancer Book 8 - Blood Lost Book 9 - Angel of Death Book 10 - Death in the Air Book 11 - Death in the Mist Book 12 - Death under Hypnosis Book 13 - Fatal Turn Book 14 - The Edinburgh Murders Book 15 - A Picture of Murder Book 16 - The Wilderness Murders Book 17 - The Bunker Murders Book 18 - The Garthmyl Murders Book 19 - The Signature Copyright © 2023 by Anna-marie Morgan All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For my Family CONTENTS Prologue 1. A thief in the night 2. Like so much rubbish 3. Unpalatable conclusions 4. Barriers 5. No such thing as coincidence 6. Private investigation 7. A frustrating time 8. Victimology 9. Friends or frenemies 10. Somewhere and nowhere 11. Jacky Bevan 12. Killing them softly 13. Profile of a killer 14. Something to hide 15. Disaster strikes 16. Missing 17. Bombshell 18. A chill wind 19. The truth will out Afterword PROLOGUE Her breath came in short, laboured bursts as the cold air stung her face and pained her lungs. She would have given up, but this was no ordinary run. It was life or death; the girl forced her limbs onward. Numbing cold gave way to heat as the chill penetrated deep into her skin, misleading the pain receptors lying within. She tossed her bag and jacket to the ground. The monster was coming. A vile beast, hard on her heels, grunting and panting. So much noise. He had followed her from the car, pounding the earth somewhere behind. Somewhere she dared not look. As she tumbled into the frozen dirt, grit and stone scraped and penetrated the numbed the skin on her knees, hands, and cheek. Still it came: the thump, thump, thump of feet. Bang, bang, bang in her ears as she lay on the ground panting for air. The girl dragged herself up and sprinted on towards the light coming from a barn. At last, somewhere to hide. She ripped off her blouse, tossing that too before reaching the shed door, heaving it open, and crouching inside. Gradually her breathing slowed as an overwhelming urge to sleep replaced the fear. Let the monster come. She no longer cared. 1 A THIEF IN THE NIGHT She flicked a glance behind, breath catching in her throat; heels snagging on uneven paving stones. Only cold stone buildings and parked cars inhabited the surrounding space. She pressed a hand to her chest to calm her thudding heart, chiding herself for being so foolish. Imagination could create many monsters, given free rein. Her breath, clouding in the frozen night air, amplified the eerie feeling she was not alone. The young woman rounded the corner. A half-hour walk across town and she would be home, changing into cotton pyjamas, brushing her teeth, and going to bed with a warm drink and a good book. A hot chocolate might weaken the hangover that must surely come with morning light. Somewhere overhead, a lamp flickered. Its beam sent juddering shadows creeping over the walls. The girl pulled her long coat tighter, stumbling and cursing as the hard leather of new shoes blistered her heels. “This is silly,” she whispered. “Pull yourself together. There is nothing to be afraid of.” As she approached a derelict church and a closed chip shop, a large gloved hand reeking of stale sweat and leather clamped over her mouth, while a powerful arm like a firefighter's hydraulic jaws wrapped around her waist, dragging her through an alleyway and behind the disused church. Her feet bumped over clumps of weeds and broken bottles as she struggled with her attacker, eventually stamping hard as she could on his instep. Her kitten heels made little impression on steel-toe-capped boots. He was too strong. “Shut up and listen,” he hissed. “If you do as I say, you won't get hurt. Continue to struggle and I will kill you.” Her muffled screams were not enough to waken the neighbours. Not a single window lit up. No curtains twitched. No doors opened. He replaced the gloved hand with a wet cloth that smelled overwhelmingly like nail polish remover, and her legs lost their strength. In her staring eyes, the street lights faded away. * * * “One coffee with milk, and no sugar.” Dewi handed her a white mug with ‘Meh!’ printed on the side. “Thank you. That should help clear my head.” She gave her DS a weak smile while reading the inscription. It echoed how she felt that morning: meh, with a thick head that hadn’t quite developed into a full-blown headache. If it had, she could have taken a painkiller. Instead, a woolly brain exacerbated her Monday morning blues. These mild headaches had occurred regularly over the last several weeks, and her once regular periods were now erratic and waning. Perhaps, she mused, this was the onset of the change of life, the hormonal upheaval a woman must suffer at around her age. “I thought I’d bring you up to speed.” Dewi unbuttoned his suit jacket, pushing both hands into his trouser pockets. “With what?” She sipped the hot liquid, comforted by its warmth, her hands still cold from the drive in to work because she had forgotten her gloves that morning. “A young woman, Jacky Bevan, nineteen years old, went missing Saturday night from town. She was expected home from a night out with her friends, but didn’t return. Her parents