‘I’m guessing you don’t play poker, Inspector, otherwise your bluff would be rather better than this. Let me help you out.’
Helen wanted to punch her between the eyes and Mickery knew it. She continued:
‘You are currently hunting a serial killer. Let’s not dress it up as anything else. But more than that you are hunting a very rare kind of serial killer. A woman. How many female serial killers can you name? Eileen Wournos, Rose West, Myra Hindley. It’s not a long list. Which is why they are box office. Everybody loves female serial killers. The tabloids, film-makers, the guy on the street – everyone is fascinated by women who kill again and again. But this one…’ She paused for effect. ‘… this one really takes the cheese. Why? Because she’s so canny, so organized yet so elusive. How does she target her victims? And why? Does she hate both of the people she abducts or just one? How can she predict the outcome? Does she care who lives and who dies? And why them? What have they done to her? Is she the first serial killer in history to get off on those who survive her crimes, rather than through those who are killed? She’s a one-off, unique. And she’s going to be an utter sensation.’
Helen said nothing. She knew Mickery was baiting her and wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of reacting. Mickery smiled and continued:
‘There are several endings to this extraordinary story. But the best one – and the one every tabloid hack and reader wants – is that the dogged cop gets her girl in the end. And then we can all have fun poring over her mugshot and reading the twelve-page special full of gory details, “expert” opinions and thinly disguised prurience.’
Mickery was warming to her theme.
‘The ending that no one wants – you especially – starts with a blunder. The arrest of an innocent, respected professional’ – she stressed that word – ‘which results in the story breaking before the killer is caught. The tabloids are up in arms, the man on the street is terrified and suddenly you’ve got millions of eyes scanning millions of faces, driving the killer underground whilst flooding your incident room with a thousand bogus leads. The killer’s vanished, you’re hung out to dry and I get a very hefty compensation payout with which I buy that boat I’ve always wanted.’
She paused for effect.
‘So the question you have to ask yourself, Inspector,’ she continued, ‘is are you absolutely sure I did it? And can you prove it? Because if you’re not, if you can see the massive blunder you are about to make, then there’s still time for you to stop. To make the right move. To let me go and get back to your investigation. I am innocent, Helen.’