The Boneyard: A gripping serial killer crime thriller. Mark Sennen

She clambered up to the top and checked her mobile. Yes, she had a decent signal. She called DSupt Hardin. He wasn’t amused to be disturbed.

      ‘I’m out, Charlotte,’ he blustered into the phone. ‘This had better be good.’

      ‘There’s a body on Dartmoor,’ Savage said. ‘Female, blonde and with missing knickers. Dumped.’

      ‘OK, but can’t you deal with this?’ Hardin’s voice came and went and Savage could hear the chink of glasses and the murmur of conversation in the background. ‘I’m at the theatre, just about to take my seat after the interval. I don’t want to miss the second half.’

      Savage shook her head. Hardin plainly hadn’t understood the connection.

      ‘Malcolm Kendwick, sir. He’s a definite for this. I repeat: the victim is female, blonde, she’s not wearing knickers and she’s been dumped in the wilderness.’

      ‘Kendwick?’ Hardin appeared to have cottoned on. ‘Surely he wouldn’t be so arrogant to kill within a few days of arriving back in the UK? Besides, he dumped the bodies where he thought they’d never be found. This one sounds entirely different.’

      ‘Perhaps something’s changed inside him,’ Savage said. ‘Serial killers aren’t necessarily cold-blooded and rational. It could be the move from the US has triggered a need to do things differently. Or perhaps he simply craves the attention he’s been receiving recently and wants more of it.’

      ‘You mean we’re responsible?’

      ‘Us, the media, the police in the US. We’re not to blame, of course not, but Kendwick has an ego and maybe this is a way for him to flatter himself.’

      ‘Jesus, Charlotte, you want to arrest him? Tonight?’

      ‘I want to bring him in for questioning, yes. The sooner the better.’

      There was a long pause and then she heard Hardin’s voice muffled and indistinct as if he had his hand over the phone. Eventually he spoke. ‘OK, but by the book. Any sense we’re harassing him and we’ll be in all sorts of trouble.’

      ‘I thought that’s what you wanted, sir? To harass him.’

      ‘I wanted to needle him. There’s a subtle difference in approach, do you understand?’

      ‘Yes, sir. I’ll keep you informed.’

      ‘You do that, DI Savage.’

      Hardin hung up, leaving her staring across the Dart valley. The light had all but gone and to the east the moor spread like a dark, heaving morass. Here and there a few lights glowed from isolated farmsteads, but mostly there was a near-black nothingness which reached to the horizon. Above the skyline, a lone star hung in the north-east, twinkling against the grey background. Somewhere in that direction lay the town of Chagford, where Malcolm Kendwick would be snug in his little cottage.

      Not for long, she thought.

      Before she set off for Chagford, Savage called Inspector Nigel Frey and asked about the possibility of sending the Force Support Group to assist with the arrest. There’d be a short wait before they turned up, but she reasoned it would be worth hanging on for their arrival. Frey’s officers would be armed and come equipped to cope with any eventuality. They’d be able to break down the front door and subdue Kendwick should that prove necessary.

      ‘You think Kendwick’s dangerous?’ Calter asked as they drove away from Combestone Tor, the car’s headlights piercing the darkness. ‘I mean, he won’t resist arrest, will he?’

      ‘That’s not the point. I don’t think we’ll have a problem but if we go in there with the FSG it will lay a marker down which tells him we’re serious and are, in effect, as bad-ass as the guys over the pond.’

      ‘I like your thinking.’ Calter smiled. ‘Rough him up a bit, hey?’

      ‘You said that, not me.’

      By the time they got to Chagford, a starry sky hung above the town’s near-empty streets. They parked up a few doors from Kendwick’s place, Savage noting the front-room light was on. A few minutes later her phone rang.

      ‘We’ve got a possible on the girl, ma’am,’ DC Enders said down the line from the station, his voice squawking for a moment as the signal broke up. ‘Amy Glynn. Nineteen. She’s from Plymouth and was out in town last night. Her parents reported her missing first thing this morning after realising she hadn’t returned home. I’ll email you a picture, but I can tell you she was blonde and wearing a silver dress.’

      Savage hung up and then checked her mail. Enders was as good as his word and after a few seconds she had his email. Savage opened the accompanying image and passed the phone to Calter.

      ‘That’s her, ma’am. Her or her doppelganger.’ Calter peered at the screen before handing the phone back. She shook her head. ‘Poor kid. A few years ago I could have been her.’

      ‘I can’t see anyone getting the better of you, Jane. What’s that sport you do? Jujitsu?’

      ‘That and Taekwondo. A bit of Judo too. Mixed martial arts, everyone does it now. But that’s beside the point. Why should women have to learn self-defence in order to feel safe? Still, if some fucker ever tried anything with me, I’d break their … well, you know, ma’am. Let’s say they wouldn’t be hurting anyone ever again.’

      Their conversation was interrupted by lights sweeping the interior of their car. Savage turned to see the Force Support Group vehicle rolling up behind them, Inspector Nigel Frey in the front passenger seat. Savage got out of the car to meet him.

      ‘Nigel,’ Savage said, as Frey hopped down. ‘Thanks for this.’

      ‘Not a problem,’ Frey said. ‘Quite the opposite. I’ve been reading all about your Mr Kendwick in the papers. Be my pleasure.’

      Savage could well imagine. Dressed in black fatigues and with a pistol holstered under his left arm, Frey resembled a life-size Action Man. His notion of policing wasn’t finding lost children or catching speeding motorists, he liked to bash heads. If he wasn’t bashing heads he preferred the waters of Plymouth Sound to the city’s streets. A big police RIB was his plaything and he was often to be found zipping back and forth, buzzing yachts and other pleasure craft. Still, Savage had nothing against Frey since he’d saved her life on two occasions.

      Frey made a hand signal back to the van and the side door slid open, four black-clad figures jumping out. Two of them held a big metal battering ram. A patrol car pulled past the FSG vehicle and edged along the street until it was well beyond Kendwick’s place. Then the driver turned the car sideways in the road and both officers got out. A motorcyclist was coming towards them, but the officers waved at the rider to stop.

      ‘OK, let’s do this, Charlotte,’ Frey said, setting off down the street with Savage trotting along beside him, trying to keep up.

      They reached Kendwick’s place and one of the FSG officers bent to the door and peered through the letterbox. He mouthed an ‘all clear’ and stepped aside as two more officers moved to the door with the battering ram. They took a practice swing and then brought the ram crashing down against the Yale lock. The door smashed open, bouncing back shut before another officer shouldered the door and moved inside.

      ‘Armed police!’ the officer shouted, his weapon raised. ‘Stay where you are and don’t move!’

      The other officers ran into the house too, Savage behind them. Kendwick stood in the archway to the little kitchen, a tea towel in one hand and a mug in the other. The first officer braced himself, his finger caressing the trigger on the gun. A red laser dot flickered on Kendwick’s chest.

      ‘Face down on the floor! Now!’

      Kendwick moved slowly but purposefully. He placed the tea towel and mug on a work surface and lowered himself to the floor. One of the other officers went over and yanked Kendwick’s arms behind his back. He clicked a pair of cuffs in place and