Free My Bloody Valentine (Alastair Gunn) by Alastair Gunn

panicked London population.
    But now, just as mass paranoia had begun to subside, if a new murder could be linked to an entirely different seasonal event, especially the next most widely recognized one on the calendar, no doubt the whole media spectrum would happily re-tap such a fresh and lucrative vein.
    Mike returned, handing her copies of the Mail and the Express . She looked down at exactly the types of headline she’d just foreseen: T HE V ALENTINE K ILLER ; B LOODY V ALENTINE .
    Ittook her a moment to excavate a comforting thought.
    ‘Ah’ – she held up a pensive digit – ‘but Valentine’s Day is a yearly event, and even the tabloids can’t string a single murder out till next year, on the off chance he’ll do it again.’
    ‘I’ll go with that.’ Maguire nodded. ‘But what if this is a regular thing for him, and they find a whole string of bodies, going back years? Or what if he killed more than one ex yesterday, and we’ve only found one of them so far? That’s gonna plant a big old smile on your average editor’s pan.’
    Hawkins’ short-lived positivity shrank as she accepted the possibility. He was right; of course, the papers were full of stars newly disgraced for decades-old indiscretions, so why should murderers be any different, especially given fresh notoriety by their latest gruesome act?
    At least it was the sort of case that, successfully resolved, could revive a tattered reputation.
    In this instance, hers.
    She looked up at Mike, suddenly energized. ‘Is the scene still ours?’
    ‘Yeah, why?’
    ‘Come on, then.’ Hawkins rolled herself forwards, poker-faced as her muscles protested. If Mike knew she was in pain, he’d take her straight home.
    ‘Come on, then, what ?’
    ‘Well, in my experience’ – she stopped besidehim – ‘it’s generally best if the officer leading the investigation gets to visit the murder scene. Don’t you think?’
    Mike didn’t reply, just shook his head and opened the door.

18
    Doors banged up front, and footsteps moved along either side of the truck before the two men appeared. Bull recognized the taller one, but the second guy was new.
    They let down the tailgate. ‘Out.’
    Everyone stood, crouching inside the truck. Bull’s heart pounded.
    They shuffled in twos to the edge and dropped on to the road. Bull was out early, scanning the scene.
    The lights on the trucks were off, but the sky was clear and the moon was high, allowing him to see the derelict buildings surrounding them and the piles of random crap dotted here and there.
    They were told to line up.
    Bull joined the queue behind Liam, one of the older kids who was normally up for everything. But, tonight, Bull could see Liam’s legs shaking. Which was good, because his were, too.
    They moved off, entering a narrow alleyway that ran between two buildings, leading down a slope to their right. The alley swallowed them one by one, blackness closing in all around. It went on and on, falling away more steeply the further they went, but at last they came out on a second, even narrower street.
    Bull joined the crowd forming ahead of him. There was a stronger smell of burning now, and an eeriness to the silence that made him feel sick. Quiet chatter broke out in the crowd, but Bull didn’t join in.
    They were told to shut up.
    Everyone stopped talking as the voice at the front told them to get into groups; that the trucks would be brought down now the area was confirmed clear, that their job was to clean the place up.
    Confused, Bull worked his way around a few of the taller guys for a better view. At first he couldn’t see anything through the steam venting from a burst pipe. He moved forwards, peering deeper into the dark.
    And saw bodies all over the ground.

19

    ‘Of course I’m worried,’ the caller urged. ‘Every time I look there’s another attack; some new girl getting killed. I have two daughters, Peter. I’m barely sleeping at night.’
    ‘So what should be done?’ the