Julia Menken E-Book

Chantal van Mierlo

• Herausgeber: Storytel Original
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Serie: Julia Menken
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Seitenzahl: 497

Beschreibung

Behavioral expert, Julia Menken, works as one of the few police 'profilers' in The Netherlands' Homicide and Sex Crimes Unit. She regards her intuition as one of her biggest strengths, but it's that same intuition that causes diabolical dilemmas, both at work and in her private life.

Leseprobe

www.storytel.com

Copyright © Storytel Original 2021

Copyright © Chantal van Mierlo 2021

Original title: Julia Menken - S01

Translation: Yvonne Perks

Cover design: Cover Kitchen Company Limited

ISBN 978-91-7967-521-9

Episode 1

They really should have just carried on walking, but it was odd seeing those clothes right in the middle of the road. Next to that electricity substation. Neatly folded up. There was a coat on top of the pile of clothes, a bomber jacket with grey sleeves.

“You go and grab it,” Mike said to Daan, who was now stood very close to him. They had managed to build up quite a nice little reputation at their own school, but they wouldn’t be leaving their primary school until next year. And these things looked like they belonged to someone much older than them.

Daan hesitated. He was thinking of a classmate who had recently suffered a horrendous attack. He had been lured into an alleyway by a group of lads, where they had then proceeded to give him a right royal beating. One of the perpetrators had actually filmed how they had taken it in turns to repeatedly kick him in the head and had put it on snapchat afterwards. The whole class had seen it and thought it was quite exciting. Daan had felt sorry for that lad more than anything else. He had actually needed to spend a few days in hospital. And now he was stood here himself. There could be absolutely anything in that coat: sweets, a mobile or a wallet. But it could easily be a trap too.

“What if someone is hiding behind that substation,” he whispered to Mike.

Mike looked at him in disgust. “Don’t be such a wimp. Don’t worry, I’ll do it myself, but whatever’s in there will be all mine.” He took a few steps forward, but then froze on the spot.

“Shit.”

Was there actually someone there? Daan leaned forward slightly. He really just wanted to get out of here, but his curiosity got the better of him. Plus Mike was walking out in front of him, so he would definitely be the first to be grabbed.

The first thing he saw was a bare foot. Even then he had still considered walking away. He felt for the front door key, which was on a chain around his neck, the cold metal chafing against his tummy. His mum always wanted him to go straight home after school and they had already deviated from their usual route.

“What can you see?”

Mike didn’t reply. He looked at Daan over his shoulder, his eyes wide open.

“What’s wrong?” Daan shuffled forward a little and could see a bit of a leg. It wasn’t moving. Had someone fallen asleep over here?

“I think he’s dead. There’s a huge puddle of blood.”

He took one more little step, so he would end up alongside Mike. He peeked around the corner. Gross. The boy wasn’t wearing any trousers, just a shirt covered in blood. He could see a gaping hole where his willy was supposed to be. Shoes in the middle. Blood, flesh, more blood on the pavement. It all looked disgusting, like a scene from one of his brother’s computer games.

But this was no computer game. This was real.

He could hear himself scream. Mike turned around and almost knocked him over. Daan put his hand over his mouth. Then he turned around too and ran back into the Rietgrachtstraat.

*

Julia Menken walked across to her car with a folder clenched underneath her arm. Her working day may well be done, but the things she was working on always appeared to be never-ending. Right now it was the investigation into Mirjam Bender’s murder, which had appeared to have reached a deadlock. The investigation team hadn’t managed to make any progress and it was down to Julia to send the investigation off in a new direction. She would go through the case again tonight, but she really had to go home first, she had promised Daniel. Her phone started ringing whilst she was searching around her handbag for her keys. It was Karel Visser, her boss.

“Karel? I’m literally in the car park. Please tell me you rang to wish me a pleasant evening.”

“Sorry. I’m afraid this evening is going to be anything but pleasant.”

Julia remained where she was and looked up at the blue sky. The evening sun warmed her face. She wanted to go home. Have some dinner together and then roll about in the grass with the kids for a while, before settling down with the documents and a glass of wine, hoping to get a better picture of Mirjam Bender’s killer.

“You’ve got a new assignment.”

Great. She really didn’t have time for this, she couldn’t leave Daniel with the kids for the umpteenth time. “I’m still working on the Bender case. I’m taking the file home with me and you’ll have my report on your desk after the weekend.”

“Bender can wait, Julia. They need you somewhere else. You need to come over to a crime scene in Arnhem.”

“Arnhem? Now?” She looked at her watch. A quarter past six. Daniel would be furious and rightly so too. She was working way too many hours. She had been working as a Behavioural Expert within the National Unit in Zoetermeer for the past three years.

“What’s so urgent about this case?” There was never a shortage of work, but most cases had stalled and had been stagnant for a few months, or years even. Her recommendations and advice served as a new impetus for the investigations. But Karel wasn’t talking about one of these dormant cases.

“I’m currently in Arnhem at the crime scene. Rietgrachtstraat in Arnhem, make sure you’re here in an hour.”

“You’re at the crime scene now? What’s happened?”

“A child murder.”

She looked at the display, but he had already hung up. Typical. He knew she would get there somehow. She got into her black Volkswagen Golf and started the engine. The car started moving as she logged her phone into the hands-free set and chose her husband’s mobile.

“Jules, where on earth are you now?”

Julia clenched the steering wheel. She could hear Mees and Evi bickering in the background. “I’m on my way to a crime scene, I have to be there tonight. Sorry.”

“Again? Dammit Jules. Dinner’s on the table.”

She stopped for a cyclist and turned onto the Europaweg. “I have to go to Arnhem, so it’s going to be a late one, I think.”

“Right, I suppose I’ll be running things on my own again over here then.”

“Sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you will. Be careful.”

She tried to ignore her guilty conscience and entered her destination into the sat nav. It was busy in town. The Europaweg turned into the Australiëweg, which led straight to the A12. The sat nav was telling her she should be in Arnhem in an hour, but this obviously didn’t take any possible traffic into the equation.

*

The fact that something was going on in the Rietgrachtstraat was evident the moment she approached it. She got out of her car and instantly noticed the silence. As was the case after most crimes, there were plenty of people about, but the majority of them were whispering softly, or were simply just staring out in front of themselves, as if though there were in a state of shock.

Police officers were keeping people at a safe distance, but many were still trying to catch a glimpse of the victim from the police tape which had been put up around the crime scene. Impossible anyway, as the body had been protected by a large white tent for quite some time. She worked her way through the crowds and was just about to ask a colleague to let her through to the crime scene when she spotted Karel making his way over to her.

He lifted up the tape for her. “Glad you’re here.”

“Can you tell me a little more now?”

She glanced at up his face, which was usually one she could read quite well, but this time she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. He put his hand through the few grey hairs he still had and grabbed her by the elbow.

“Come with me.”

“I don’t understand why we’re getting involved with this one. Isn’t it slightly over the top to involve a behavioural expert with a case whilst rigor mortis hasn’t even had a chance to set in yet?”

“This has just been scaled up to a large-scale investigation. The Public Prosecutor has asked for you especially. He feels it’s important for a profile sketcher to be involved with the case up front. And I tend to agree with him.”

“Why?”

“Wait till you see the victim.”

She walked towards the tent and felt a shiver travel down her spine. She had been in the job long enough to see plenty of fresh corpses. Children had always been the worst. That feeling had only been intensified now she had two little ones of her own at home. Her instinct told her she would be better off not going into the tent, but her mind forced her to continue. She used the protective covers handed to her to cover her shoes and her hair.

She pushed aside the flap of the tent and took a moment to take in the scene in front of her. Three forensic detectives were busy securing the crime scene, they were knelt down next to the victim and their concentration had reached such levels that they hadn’t even noticed her coming in. The victim was a teenager, his face was flawless, there wasn’t yet any sign of facial hair. A lad of no more than fourteen, she guessed. He looked like an angel, the way he was lying there, providing you didn’t look down any further. His throat had been cut and his genitalia had been removed.

“Jesus Christ,” she whispered.

“Right, exactly what I meant,” Karel said, who had followed her in and was stood right behind her.

“Were those shoes already like that?” she asked, pointing to a pair of trainers which had been left on the victim’s stomach.

“Yes, just like the clothing. He was only wearing his shirt, but the rest appears to have been left in a neat little pile.”

Julia frowned. She walked across to the boy and kneeled down. The cut in his throat had been made with one single movement.

“Has the weapon been found yet?”

The detective closest to her shook his head.

“It looks like this is where he was murdered.”

“At least that’s what we’re assuming for the time being.”

She tried to take in everything she could see around her. The perpetrator had definitely gotten to work in a very organised manner. The way in which the clothes had been left was a sufficient indication this hadn’t been an impulsive act.

“Did this happen this afternoon?” she asked, without looking up.

“In broad daylight, yes,” Karel said, who had remained stood at the entrance to the tent.

“So the perpetrator was very fast. Incredibly precise.” She noticed the cogs in her head had started moving. Distancing herself now would be impossible. She simply had to know what had happened here and what the perpetrator had been thinking when he had killed this child. Why during the day, did the high chance of getting caught give him an extra kick? And why this child? Was this boy a random victim, or did he perhaps know his killer? She looked around, looking for other clues, things which would help tell the story of today’s events. The boy was lying half hidden behind an electricity substation which was positioned against a concrete wall.

“What kind of building is this?” She nodded at the wall.

“It’s where the fire service is housed.”

“And this here is a cycle path, a junction with the Rietgrachtstraat. He certainly wasn’t shy and during broad daylight hours too. Nobody saw anything?”

“Door to door enquiries are currently in full swing,” Karel said.

She got back up and followed Karel out of the tent, where the bystanders were staring at her like vultures, hoping for a tiny little piece of sensation.

“I have to get going,” he said and started moving towards his car.

“Hang on. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a good idea to immediately involve ourselves with the investigation.”

“Without a doubt. This is the work of a professional, he’s done this before, that I’m sure of.” She cast her eyes down. “Can’t you take on this case?”

Karel turned around and shrugged his shoulders. “The thing is, the Public Prosecutor specifically asked for you, Julia. Just let me know if you need me though, OK?” He winked at her. “You’ve got this.”

“Who’s in charge of the crime scene?” she asked.

Karel gestured towards a man with short dark hair, who stood talking to someone with his back towards them. He then disappeared into the crowds. She was on her own. Normally this didn’t present her with any problems whatsoever. But normal for her was working on old cases, where she’d generally only see the crime scene and the victim on photographs and there was no particular time pressure.

Her thoughts unwillingly took her back years, to a fatal case where her errors had resulted in a loss of life.

Don’t do it, Julia!

She wasn’t in charge of this investigation and she knew she was good at what she did. The cases which had been solved as a result of her profile sketches had exceeded expectations. But those were all cases which had hit a deadlock. This was a brand new case and any mistake on her part could have instant consequences for the ongoing case. This forced her into a position she had resolutely walked away from years ago.

She straightened up her back. She had to get on with it. The first hurdle was getting to know the team and the Public Prosecutor in charge of the investigation. She was about to join a very tight unit and she would need to convince them of the value of her opinions. This would be no easy task. The detectives involved with the old cases were always glad of a new insight. But this time she would have to fight for her place within the team with her arguments and she knew this would be no mean feat.

She walked over to the Public Prosecutor, who turned around the very moment she was about to tap him on the shoulder. She recognised him instantly. An awareness which felt like a slap in the face. Maarten Brouwer. Just for a moment she had no idea what to say. This was the absolute last thing she had expected. She hadn’t seen him for five years and three months, but he hadn’t changed one single bit. Still that same arrogant look and the fake little laugh which sounded somewhat nervous when he greeted her.

“Julia. Glad you’re here.”

So he had been the one who had specifically asked for her. That’s all she needed. She looked around, hoping for a glimpse of Karel, but he was nowhere to be seen. She couldn’t do this. She was about to walk away, but then changed her mind. How unprofessional would that look? So she stayed where she was, jaws firmly clenched.

“Have you seen him yet? Poor bugger,” Maarten said whilst moving a little closer towards her.

“What’s this all about, Maarten?”

He held up his hands in defence, but she didn’t give him the opportunity to say anything.

“I’m not working for you, so you can forget about that. What on earth possessed you to call me in for this case?”

“I see, Mrs Menken, as sharp a tongue as ever. Welcome to the team. I will introduce you to Diego Kortzorg in a moment, he is in charge of the police investigation.”

“No, I’m going home. You can use Karel for this one, he’s an expert in this field.”

“I have every confidence in you pushing us in the right direction. Karel is very aware of that too. So if we could just get going now ...”

She crossed her arms and stared off into the distance.

“Julia, for God’s sake, a child has been murdered here. I really don’t have time for this haughtiness of yours. Just get to work.”

He left her standing there quite astounded. What an unbelievably horrible evening. She was desperate for a cigarette. There should be a packet somewhere in her glove compartment, especially for these kinds of occasions. Daniel wouldn’t be able to smell it, because he would be fast asleep by the time she would get home. Ever since his burnout he would really be asleep any time either she or the kids weren’t forcing him to be awake.

Maarten had his back towards her again, busily gesturing towards the person he was talking to. She was just about to walk over to her car to get the cigarettes when he stepped out of the way and a dark man started walking towards her. He had short black curly hair, shiny with gel and he had a beaming smile. He cheerfully extended his hand out towards her.

“I’m Diego Kortzorg, from the East Netherlands Police Department’s National Crime Squad.”

She introduced herself and explained she was the Behavioural Expert from the National Unit, drafted in by Maarten.

“Yes, he’s told me all about you, trained at the FBI etc, I look forward to working with you. Of course we’re all just ordinary detectives here.”

Fantastic start. She was an outsider, she would have to prove herself again every single day. Where an investigation team would normally be happy with some fresh ideas where a deadlock situation was concerned, here she would undoubtedly be regarded as a know-it-all.

Diego seemed to notice she felt a little uncomfortable. “Sorry, that was unnecessary. We really need all the help we can get catching this killer. Before there are any more victims.”

“Have the parents been informed yet?”

“We’re still trying to establish his identity.”

“We don’t know who he is?”

“Nothing personal was found at the crime scene. No school bag, no wallet and no phone.”

“And no one’s reported him missing?”

“Not yet, but the entire unit is on high alert. Plus we’re also contacting all the local schools, hoping someone will recognise him.”

This was truly awful, she was thinking of the photo of his face, which had been taken in such a way that the huge neck wound was barely visible. Somewhere a mother was waiting for her son to come home, perhaps already worrying about the fact he wasn’t there yet, maybe called some of his friends already. Maybe she had managed to reassure herself with the thought that he had lost track of time, or that he was perhaps secretly meeting up with his first girlfriend. And all that time her son had been lying here on the cold concrete, robbed of a life that had only just started. An injustice so great that she felt obliged to do absolutely everything in her power to make sure the perpetrator got the punishment he deserved. After all, that was the very reason she had decided to join the police all those years ago.

“I think we’re done here for the time being, the technical boys are going to be working through the night. The victim will soon be collected and taken to The Hague for an autopsy. I’ll arrange for a desk to be set up for you at our offices.”

“Is Rich going to be doing this?”

“Richard Galvez? Yes, he’s going to be doing the autopsy.”

She was familiar with the Dutch Forensic Institute and she knew the child pathologist from the time when she had been working as a detective in Rotterdam.

“Shall we meet there early in the morning?”

She nodded. Dozens of questions were circling around in her head, but Diego was right, she would get her first clues from Galvez at the DFI in the morning. And hopefully by that time the door to door enquiries would have resulted in a few more answers too.

*

She was surprised to see the lights were still on when she got home. She parked her car on the drive behind Daniel’s Renault Megane. The outside light came on too. The white-yellow light confronted her with the weeds sprouting out from in between the boxwood hedges. She’d never had green fingers. Daniel had always been the one to make sure the front garden looked presentable.

This had been their dream home eight years ago: a modern semi-detached house in a dead-end street, with a playground right around the corner. They had been the first residents to move in and had been able to follow every step of the new housing project. They had often crawled through the building site’s fences to check on the progress of their new home. They would sit on the concrete of their future living room, drink a beer together and fantasise about how they were going to furnish their home. They needed two children’s rooms and a terrace with wooden decking at the back. And grass. Making sure their children could play outside. Now it all looked rather bleak. Their garden looked somewhat uncared for, compared to the rest of the street. Daniel didn’t feel like doing anything anymore. He couldn’t even muster up the energy to put the bins out on collection day.

Of course she felt responsible for his happiness, there was nothing she’d like more than to see that glistening back in his eyes again. When she stopped to think about it, she couldn’t actually remember when that light had gone out. It had been a gradual process. Daniel’s physical complaints had started two years ago. Headache, back pain. Initially she had thought it was very normal. Mees was five and Evi had only just been born. Evi had been a terrible sleeper and she had put his exhaustion down to those sleepless nights. She hadn’t realised quite how bad it was until he had collapsed and had subsequently not been able to get out of bed for an entire week.

His burnout had made their lives complicated. Her positive guy, who had always seemed to be able to deal with absolutely anything, had disappeared. The engineer who had led international construction projects and who managed a group of motivated employees had changed into a depressed person who no longer wanted to leave his home. It had certainly affected her too. It was damned hard to accept that her husband may well never be the same again. And even though she absolutely refused to admit it, deep inside she longed for that sociable, lively lad she had once fallen in love with.

Daniel had now returned to work again, although part-time for the time being, in a position which was far below his ability. But it was a start, at least he was heading back out the door again every single day, but when he returned in the afternoon he was utterly drained. Literally everything rested on her shoulders: caring for the children, her own work, the household chores ... And then there were those fears she was still struggling with.

Julia had managed to structure their entire lives: a cleaner came in twice a week and the children were collected by Ans, the childminder, at half past seven every morning. Daniel didn’t need to collect the kids again until six in the evening, but even that was too much for him sometimes.

She found him asleep on the sofa, with the television on some sort of real-life soap. She put her bag down on the dining table as quietly as possible and carried on upstairs. She knelt down next to Evi’s bed. The nightlight cast a warm glow across her face. Chubby little cheeks and thick black eyelashes, her curls stuck to her face. She pulled the duvet down a little and kissed her on the forehead, taking in the sweet smell of baby shampoo. She stayed sat like that for a little while and then went in to check on Mees. She almost tripped over the Lego which was spread out across the carpet in front of his bed. She moved them off to one side with her foot, making sure he wouldn’t hurt himself if he got out of bed for a wee in the middle of the night.

She took off her clothes in the bathroom without bothering to turn on the light and sat down on the toilet. What a day. Images shot through her head. From the boy who had been found today, to damaged little faces and gagged children’s bodies, interspersed with Mees and Evi’s faces. She stood back up and went to get the packet of sleeping pills out of the medicine cabinet. They were the last ones she had, as she had agreed with the company doctor to start weaning herself off them. She knew she wasn’t supposed to take them, but she felt she couldn’t do without them tonight.

*

She knocked on Karel’s slightly open door at half past seven the next morning. He was usually in by around seven; he referred to himself as a morning person. Julia certainly didn’t agree with him on that score, as he was usually still there at seven in the evening, so the term evening person definitely applied to him too.

She tentatively entered his office.

“Julia. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Arnhem?”

“I’ve got an appointment at the DFI in The Hague first. Plus I wanted to talk to you.”

He turned away from his computer and stretched his arms out in front of him on his desk. She sat down in the chair opposite him and wondered how to start. She didn’t want this job. It was already tearing open old wounds which she thought had healed. That’s what she really wanted to say to Karel, but this would also mean signing her own resignation letter.

“You know me well, Karel. You know I’m still struggling with what happened. So how on earth can you send me to Maarten Brouwer for the murder of a child?”

Karel didn’t answer straight away. He looked at her inquisitively, perhaps trying to figure out how much she could take. “Brouwer explicitly asked for you.”

That arsehole.

“I really don’t know if I can do this. I actually wanted to get out of the field, so I could gain a little distance.”

Her role had generally always been an advisory one: she would assist the team of detectives with establishing a clear profile of the perpetrator, making sure the detective knew in which direction to continue their search. Of course this also involved murder cases, one more horrid than the next, but it wasn’therinvestigation. She had always been far enough removed from it all. This was different. She formed part of an investigation team. Her first impression had told her this wasn’t the first time the perpetrator had killed someone and that he would continue unless he was stopped. The murder was too cold-blooded, executed in far too much of a precise and calculated manner for it to be a one-off incident. Bringing in a Behavioural Expert was therefore most definitely useful, as they were probably dealing with a serial killer. But she didn’t know if she was the right person to be dealing with this level of pressure.

“Why don’t you take on this case yourself? Or what about Max?” She was referring to her colleague, who had formed part of Karel’s team for the past six months.

“Max is going to be taking over the Mirjam Bender case from you.”

“You want me to go to Arnhem.” So she didn’t need to bother relying on Karel’s support. He had done what the Public Prosecutor had asked him to do and freed up her agenda.

“I can do one better than that: I insist. And may I suggest you concentrate on the killer. Another child could disappear at any time. There is severe time pressure here, a real threat. But you will have to learn to deal with that again.”

“It’s too soon.”

“You need to be adaptable. That was a prerequisite for the job you decided to take on here.”“So I don’t have a choice.”

“You are a damned good detective, Julia. And you are the best profiler in the Netherlands. It’s about time you started to realise that. It’s actually unbearable to watch you stand in your own way like this.”

His face was deadly serious. This was more than just a case. It was also a test to see if she could still do her job. She quickly got to her feet.

“Right. I’ve got to be with Galvez in twenty minutes. He’s doing the autopsy on the body.” She raised her hand by way of a goodbye and Karel nodded at her.

“Have faith in yourself, Julia.”

Her heart literally sank into her shoes as she walked out of the office.

*

She took the lift down to the DFI’s basement, where the Forensic Pathology department was located. She would never be able to get used to that weird smell down there. She entered Richard Galvez’s office, where she only found his assistant, who looked up at her with a troubled look on his face. The office was small, the largest part was occupied by a bookcase with professional literature. Rich’s desk was stood right in the middle and was home to a laptop and a stack of documents. The assistant had a small table which had been pushed against the wall. She could hear Mozart’s dulcet tones in the background. So Rich had to be somewhere nearby.

“I’ve got an appointment with Richard,” she said to the assistant, who had already returned to his paperwork. He stood up and shook her hand.

“Sorry, I was really far gone.” He pulled a thick white overall from a pile in the cupboard and handed it to her. “Put this one and you can go straight through. Your colleague is already here.”

“Julia, is that you?” she could hear bellowing out of the autopsy area. She smiled. Galvez was a mountain of a man, warm and cheerful and she had always found it quite extraordinary that he chose to spend his days with corpses.

She entered the sterile autopsy room, fully wrapped up in protective clothing. Rich had his back towards her and was bent down over the steel table, busily working away on the young victim’s insides. Diego stood next to him. Despite his considerable height, he looked insignificant alongside Rich.

“I hope you’ve brought some coffee,” Rich said without looking up.

She couldn’t help but smile. Nothing had changed. She put the thermos flask on a free table by the door and entered the autopsy area. Diego greeted her with a nod.

“Please take a picture of this,” he instructed his assistant in a business-like manner. He moved the large swivel light above the body and turned around.

“Julia.” She could clearly see the laughter lines above his surgical mask. “Great to see you again. It’s been a long time.”

“Five years.”

“They told me the FBI were training you to become a profiler. So I thought: she’s never going to come back.”

“I only went to the States for a few months to attend a course which wasn’t being offered in the Netherlands.” She thought back to her time with the FBI in Quantico, Virginia. Those had been some intensive months, where she had been buried under a stack of files for murder and rape cases. She had learnt how to recognise behavioural patterns in criminals. Every single perpetrator left a figurative fingerprint behind after a crime, the art was in knowing how to find it.

“I’m with Karel Visser now, at the National Unit’s Department of National Operational Cooperation in Zoetermeer.”

“A whole club of profilers together.”

She laughed. “Yes. Our team consists of detective psychologists who, in addition to their national tasks, also support all the regional units. We are mostly used for cold cases.”

“This one’s certainly not cold, baby.”

“No, this is something quite different.” Everyone stayed quiet for a moment and she could feel Rich and Diego looking at her expectantly. Could they possibly know more? Had someone told them about the reason for the change of career?”

“So you’re with Karel,” Rich quickly said, “I don’t know him personally. But I’ve heard plenty about him.”

“Karel Visser was the first profiler in the Netherlands, he’s a master in his field,” Diego said.

He was right. Karel was her mentor and he had taught her more than the FBI boys had been able to. There were plenty more people who professed to being profilers, as it obviously wasn’t a protected title. These were often psychologists who were lacking the forensic expertise and knowledge of criminal investigators. Karel was taken incredibly seriously within the police world and was often the first to be contacted when complicated cases presented themselves.

“What have you found so far, Rich?” she asked and pointed at the body. He had opened up the abdominal cavity and was busy removing the organs. These were rinsed off and placed on the preparation table next to the autopsy table. Diego was constantly putting his foot back down on a pedal and reporting on the findings.

Julia looked at the boy’s face, at the pale skin around his blue lips and closed eyes. She followed the fine contours, which would undoubtedly have developed into coarser facial features if time had allowed it. It was the face of a boy who was about to become a man.

“He was attacked with an incredibly sharp knife, probably a boning or filleting knife. And the perpetrator knew exactly what he was doing.”

“Yes, I had reached that conclusion too.”

“Apart from his genitals, there is also a large chunk of muscle missing from his thigh.”

How stupid, she hadn’t noticed that yesterday. “I’ll show you.” He rolled the stiff body onto its side, with a little help from his assistant. “Look. Can you see that?”

She nodded. “Why his thigh?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Perhaps some form of trophy?”

“We can at the very least call it remarkable.”

There had been a great deal of blood at the crime scene and she had assumed it had all come from the wounds the front of the boy’s body had suffered. She frowned at the large flesh wound. A great big chunk had been cut out from his upper leg and buttock. The skin around it showed dark purple corpse stains, because the blood had drawn there after the victim had died.

“So is he intact apart from that? No missing organs?”

Galvez shook his head. “I’m not completely done yet, but I don’t think so. To be honest, it’s certainly bad enough like this. He allowed him to bleed out like an animal.” He was referring to the cut throat. He looked at the body whilst shaking his head. “God have mercy on his soul.”

“What do you think?”

He pressed his lips together. “Difficult to say, it can really go in any direction. But the killer is an absolute animal, that much I’m sure of.”

*

She walked into the East Netherlands Police Department’s Regional Crime Squad meeting room with Diego a good hour later. A white, almost sterile room, with a whiteboard on the wall as the only distraction, depicting pictures of the crime scene. There was a buzz in the room and she was aware of the smell of vending machine coffee, mixed with various different types of after shave. A group of men who were stood chatting next to the whiteboard fell silent when Julia entered the room. She could feel the detectives’ stares on her body like the red laser dots of a gun.

A thin and awkward-looking figure came walking towards her. He had an unhealthy pale complexion and his eyes were deep in their sockets. He smiled at Julia.

“My name is Rens. Digital investigator.”

He probably hadn’t been doing that job for too long, as he looked like he had only recently left school. She nodded at him and he laughed a little nervously, like a shy child.

Diego sat down at the large oval meeting table and the rest of the team followed his example. She recognised the three forensic detectives she had already met at the crime scene.

“The core team are meeting here today,” Diego explained. He introduced her to a number of detectives. She only managed to remember the name Justus Beekmans, purely because he gave her a particularly dirty look.

“The Public Prosecutor has decided to seek support from the National Unit, considering the complexity of the case,” Diego explained. “In the form of Julia Menken. She is a Behavioural Expert within the DNOC in Zoetermeer. She’s going to be working on a profile sketch of the perpetrator.”

The older of the two detectives gave an approving nod in Julia’s direction. Justus didn’t move a muscle.

“Do you have any information about the victim’s identity?” Diego asked.

Justus shook his head. “We’ve been round all the surrounding schools, but it didn’t result in anything. We’ve now increased the radius and are making enquiries throughout the whole of Arnhem.”

“Surely someone must have reported that boy missing?”

Diego took in a deep breath. “So what do we know at the moment?”

One of the forensic detectives, a thin man wearing glasses, pointed at the pictures which had been secured to the whiteboard with brightly coloured magnets. Everyone got up and gathered around the whiteboard.

“Do you want to start us off, Julia?” Diego asked.

“I’m going to be drawing up a perpetrator profile. I’ll be doing this using the clues we found at the crime scene. These could indicate certain characteristics which can help to identify the type of person. Which emotions, thoughts and feelings did the perpetrator experience before, during and after his crime? We need to try to step into the perpetrator’s shoes.”

“And you’re going to do this purely based on a gut feeling?” Justus Beekmans asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No, not completely. I follow a fixed set of criteria.”

“Like?”

“The guiding principle is that someone’s behaviour reflects their personality. So the modus operandi is the key to it all: How did the perpetrator get to work? There are a number of things which instantly stand out here. Like the way the shoes and clothes were positioned. An impulsive perpetrator wouldn’t have cared about what happened to those personal items, he would simply have discarded them. But our perpetrator didn’t. He positioned them very precisely and there’s undoubtedly more to that than we currently know.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure yet, but it’s definitely very remarkable. A trademark of his actions.”

“That doesn’t sound particularly concrete.”

“With the knowledge I currently have at my disposal I would class him as anti-social, but he’s able to distinguish between good and bad. He doesn’t suffer from regret or a bad conscience, but he is not mentally ill.”

She looked around. Justus’ laugh was irritating, he obviously wasn’t taking her seriously. The others avoided looking at her.

“Have you found anything useful?” Diego broke the silence.

The forensic detective wearing the glasses turned to face Diego, making sure he had his back towards her and she was well and truly outside the little circle.

“Doesn’t appear that way. We managed to secure some fibres and we’re still busy analysing some traces left on the boy’s body, but we haven’t found any clear clues so far.”

And they won’t find those either, Julia thought. The perpetrator had made sure of that. His crime appeared to have been planned into the finest details.

Diego motioned for them to sit back down again. He poured himself some coffee and offered Julia some too. She declined.

Justus took the floor. “It must have all happened very fast, the boy was taken by surprise and didn’t even have the opportunity to defend himself. No traces were found under his nails.”

“And the deed itself? Anybody care to share any thoughts about that?” Diego asked.

They all looked at Julia.

She cleared her throat. “He took body parts with him. So it’s obvious he was after a trophy of some sort. Very typical of serial killers.”

Justus crossed his arms and leaned back. “That all sounds rather vague and it could literally apply to any killer. I think we need to start thinking about the possibility of paedophilia.”

The room fell silent.

“Why do you think that?” Julia asked.

“The neighbourhood where he was found isn’t the nicest of places. There are plenty of prostitutes, many of them addicts too. There’s usually all sorts of scum loitering around there. We’ve got a boy here who hasn’t been reported missing. The whole case stinks, if you ask me.”

“So what’s your theory?”

“The lad wasn’t cooperating and so he decided to kill him.”

“And afterwards he took the time to cut huge chunks out of his body?”

“Perhaps.”

“That doesn’t tie in with what we saw at the crime scene. If he had planned on abusing the boy at that location and had ended up killing him in panic, he would have gone about things differently, we would have found some traces. Our perpetrator actually acted in a very careful and precise manner.”

“Who said he was panicked?”

“So you think it could have been a sadistic paedophile?”

“Or simply a paedo who urgently needed to destroy evidence. Perhaps there were several perpetrators.”

“A paedophile ring?”

“It’s quite common.”

Julia wrote a few things down in her notebook. She couldn’t exclude anything. She would talk it over with Rich, perhaps he could shed a bit more light on everything. She would call him as soon as she was done here.

“Are there any cases which could possibly be connected to this murder? Lost children, murders with serious mutilations?” Diego asked.

“Not for as far as we’re aware right now, but we’re busy comparing old cases,” Justus replied.

“You said there are some prostitutes active in the area,” Julia said.

Justus grinned, apparently by way of confirmation.

“Does the Rietgrachtstraat form part of the Spijkerkwartier?”

“It borders it,” Diego said.

“I thought prostitution in the Spijkerkwartier was no longer an issue?” she said.

“Yes, according to the mayor, but you go and have a look after sunset.” He let out a bitter laugh. "The Spijkerkwartier has long since been sanitised. The town has organised a so-called care zone in the Oude Veerweg, which basically means it’s a controlled streetwalking zone, complete with surveillance. It’s called De Baan, a dead-end road which prostitutes can only access with a pass.”

“So Arnhem is still supporting prostitution?” She knew some other towns had managed to eradicate it fairly swiftly: the streetwalking zones in Heerlen, Eindhoven, Rotterdam and The Hague had been gone for years.

“A phase-out policy is in place. No new passes are being issued, so no new women are coming into the area. There is a significant social workers presence at De Baan and a living room has been set up for the women too, where they can find shelter if necessary.”

“Wow, they’re being spoilt,” Justus said.

“These women are often addicts too. There is an exit programme, but those who are still there now don’t want to join,” Diego explained.

“So prostitution isn’t a punishable offence in Arnhem?” Julia asked.

“Not within the zone. But itisforbidden outside of De Baan. And picking up a prostitute outside of the designated area is a punishable offence too.”

“So all women who can’t get into De Baan are going to the Rietgrachtstraat. And nothing is being done about this?”

“Of course we’re alert, but we simply don’t have the capacity to monitor the situation on a continuous basis. They keep coming back. These women are often addicts.”

“Meth?”

“Most of them, yes. Heroin is still quite common too. The women at De Baan are a minimum of 35 years old, the old lot who were issued with a pass at the time. The young ones need to look for an alternative spot.”

“And is the problem purely limited to the Rietgrachtstraat?”

“That’s the main hotspot. They’re often seen hanging around the NS shunting yard, behind the Van Oldenbarneveldtstraat.”

“Isn’t Van Bree the local police officer there?” Justus asked.

“Yes, we need to get him on board too,” Diego said. “And I want to have a chat with the social workers stationed at De Baan, they may well have some more information.”

“They won’t know anything, as per usual. Why has that boy still not been reported missing? He was murdered yesterday and there doesn’t appear to be anyone who cares,” Justus said.

“Perhaps he’s not from around here?”

“We’ve notified Interpol of the case. They’ve already run a check against profiles of missing children abroad. Nothing.”

“And what about the school?”

“No one knows him in Arnhem. We’re going to have a look at the surrounding areas.”

“I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that lad was being abused by his own parents,” Justus mumbled.

“That’s quite an accusation.”

“I know that neighbourhood. You really don’t want to know what I’ve witnessed there already.”

*

Julia was sat behind her desk with a white notebook. She wiped the crumbs off the desk and put her lunchbox away. Diego had allocated her a room of her own. It was much smaller than her own office in Zoetermeer, but she didn’t need a great deal of space: a desk for her laptop and to make some notes, a comfortable chair and a table by the door, which she had used for her coffee machine. Her parents had given it to her when she had first moved out and the thing had been going for an amazing 20 years. The vending machine coffee was usually pretty dire. She only drank her own coffee and otherwise she’d really rather just have a glass of water.

She was logged into the National Police Murder & Sex Offences Group’s internal network and opened up the programmes which showed the solved murder cases statistics. Her work was supposed to be based on statistics. The programme allowed her to filter out certain things which had the same characteristics as this murder and would then search for similarities between all killers. Statistically there was every chance the perpetrator would satisfy these characteristics too. This would give her a foundation for her profile. That was the theory. But in practice this rarely worked. They had started building up a database two years ago, but the problem was capacity. The programme had remained in its infancy, as no one had the time to enter all the relevant data. This was a huge disappointment to her, as she had seen how effective the system was in the States.

She wrote downpaedophileon an empty sheet. Below this she made a list of things she had noticed at the crime scene. It just didn’t add up. This wasn’t about sexual acts with the victim, he wouldn’t have had time for that. Unless the boy had already been with his killer for some time and had been specifically brought to the place to ‘finish him off’. She didn’t believe it was about sex where the killer was concerned: the boy had been slaughtered in broad daylight, someone could easily have witnessed it. And yet he had taken the time to leave the crime scene exactly as he planned. Perhaps the risk of getting caught had excited him the most. The missing body parts was a problem in itself. Why had the perpetrator taken them? Did he want a trophy? Or would he be sexually aroused by the memory of the power he’d had over the victim?

She drew tiny little figures in the corner of the sheet whilst she allowed herself time to think. The perpetrator was a sadist. But the hallmark of a sadistic murder was the torture the victims went through. So why had this murder happened so quickly? No screaming, no witnesses. The clothes had been neatly folded up, but all of the victim’s personal possessions had disappeared. What statement did the killer want to make?

She rested her head on her hands. She couldn’t move forward based on what she had right now. She needed to know more about the victim’s identity. Did the boy know his killer? What was he doing in the Rietgrachtstraat? The deeper she looked into the case, the more questions she was confronted with. And to make matters worse, they still hadn’t been able to find any witnesses.

She filled her mug, breathed in the smell of fresh coffee and left her room, looking for her detective colleagues. The room next to hers was home to Justus and his partner. She leaned against the doorframe. This room looked less impersonal than hers. There were various photo frames and plants on the windowsill, propped up by stacks of paperwork.

“Have you guys found any information about similar cases?”

“There are a number of unsolved child disappearances and a few murders we’ve looked at too, but there doesn’t appear to be any connection to this case.”

“It’s important to have as open a mind as possible when comparing these cases. It may well looked like there’s no connection at first glance, but the killer can also continue to develop in a certain direction over the course of time. His earlier crimes may have been less extreme. Any missing body parts is therefore an important characteristic. That’s what we need to be looking for.

“Yes, ma’am,” Justus said and returned to what he had been reading.

“Excuse me?”

No reaction.

Justus’ partner got up and worked his large body through the door opening which Julia was still standing in. “I’m going to get some coffee.”

She entered the room and closed the door behind her. Justus kept his eyes focussed on her. He was younger than her, probably not even thirty yet. He was cleanly shaved and tanned. She could see he worked out judging by the contours underneath his shirt. The type who would mainly be occupied with his body and how he looked during his spare time.

“What is your problem?” she asked.

“I have a problem when outsiders interfere with things they know nothing about.”

“Are you talking about me? Because for some reason I don’t feel that applies to me.”

He turned around and rummaged in a drawer. “One profiler. It feels like we’re part of a Netflix series. A psychologist coming in to solve police work. It really doesn’t want to get any crazier than this.” Of course she apparently wasn’t supposed to have heard that, but he made sure he said it loud enough for her to hear.”

“I feel sorry for you if you have a problem with me being here, as I’ve been officially assigned to this case.”

He stood up and pointed his finger at her. “You come down here from your ivory tower to tell us how we should be doing our jobs. Like you have any idea what goes on out on the streets. You’ve never been there. Do you know what it feels like when a drug dealer points his gun at you? Or how about when you manage to save a Bulgarian teenager from a pimp? Or when you come across that very same pimp a week later, with a dirty smile on his face and the next victim in his arms? Any idea?” Bits of spittle were flying out of his mouth.

“I really don’t feel like standing here arguing with you.” She turned around and noticed her knees felt weak. “And for your information: I have been working as a Behavioural Expert for three years. Before that I was a detective and beforethatI started out on the street, just like you. And a little tip from ma’am: get your facts straight before you start drawing conclusions based on assumptions.”

She opened the door and bumped straight into Diego.

“The father has been found.”

“The boy has been identified?” Justus asked.

Diego nodded. “His name is Brian Huisman and he’s from Arnhem. Some officers have gone over to see his dad. Are you coming, Julia?”

From the corner of her eyes she could see Justus had sat back down again and was staring at his screen. What an unbelievable arsehole. Of course she could understand that it wasn’t easy when the case officer added someone to the investigation team without consultation, but this hostility was downright childish.”

“I’m coming, let me just go and grab my bag.”

The front garden of Brian Huisman’s dad was overgrown with long and thriving grass. The contrast with the neighbours’ gardens couldn’t be greater: they boasted flower troughs full of bright pink geraniums, large white stone ornaments and lanterns in all shapes and sizes. A mint green butterfly decorated the wall next to the large living room window, from which two pairs of eyes were following her every move. These were clearly people who were often at home and kept a very careful eye on all the goings on. She made a mental note to go and talk to the neighbours as soon as possible, as they would undoubtedly have a few stories to tell about the boy next door.

Gert Huisman was on his own. Two family liaison officers were sat on either side of him when Julia and Diego entered the small living room. There was a stuffy feel about the place, like the windows had rarely ever been opened.

Julia caught the eye of the young family liaison officer, who was rubbing the crying man’s back. She remained where she was for a moment and took in the scene before her. Right now she was merely an observer, but soon she would be sucked into this man’s utterly devastated world.

She found it hard to estimate the man’s age. He had deep grooves and acne scars on his face, which undoubtedly made him look older than he actually was. Photographs were on display on the nicotine-stained walls. Family portraits. Brian, his dad and a blonde woman. There was a large photograph of the same woman on a table by the television, with a burning candle and a framed prayer card. A dark wooden cabinet pretty much took up one whole wall of the living room. The furniture reminded her of her grandma’s house. The Huisman family didn’t appear to have done anything about the interior of the house for many years, even the crocheted table cloths had gone yellow. It was messy, yet someone had still done their best to make it look cosy. There were some grubby-looking cushions on the leather sofa, figurines on the windowsill and a fruit bowl with apples on the dining table.

Diego sat down on an armchair which seemed to steam out cigarette smoke. Julia suppressed the urge to open a window.

“I’m so sorry about what happened to your son, Mr Huisman,” Diego started.

The man didn’t react, just continued sobbing uncontrollably.

“We wanted to ask you a few questions, in order to make sure we can catch whoever did this as quickly as possible.”

The man looked at Diego with watery eyes. “He is dead. My child isdead.” He shook his head like he couldn’t believe it.

Julia really felt for the dad. What on earth would it be like to lose your child, your most valued possession? It was her own biggest fear. And every time she thought about it she felt an overwhelming feeling of deep instinctive panic. This man wouldn’t be able to tell them anything today, he was simply overwhelmed with grief.

“Could I take a look in Brian’s room, please?”

Gert Huisman nodded. “Top of the stairs on the left.”

She walked back to the hallway and went upstairs, looking at the photographs on the staircase wall. Family pictures. Some of them a little out of focus, but always depicting the same three people. She ended up on a small landing, which offered a view into the bathroom. There was a small pile of washing in the corner, the bathroom cabinet brimming with shampoo bottles, shaving products and other bits and bobs. It was an utter mess, clearly an all-male household with little time left over for tidying and cleaning.

The room smelt stale. A typical teenager’s room: the bed wasn’t made and the bedding hadn’t been changed for quite some time. There was a desk in the corner of the room, completely covered in school books, pens, empty cans of red bull and a plate with a few crumbs and a chocolate bar wrapper. She carefully stepped over the clothing which lay strewn across the worn carpet and looked at what was on the desk. It was homework. She looked at the dusty shelves and found a number of small, apparently meaningless objects. A stone, a small padlock, an empty box.

There was a cabinet with a flat screen television on top opposite the bed. She opened the cabinet doors. Various gaming consoles, one of which still in its packaging and a huge collection of games. She found a MacBook in another section. She let her hand glide across the silver-coloured top, it looked new. She found a bag with designer clothes, with the tags still attached, in a drawer on the other side.

She opened Brian’s wardrobe, took out a well-worn jumper and pressed it against her nose. A jumper which was never going to be worn by Brian again. The rough material vaguely smelt of detergent, mixed with cigarette smoke.

She worked her way down the steep staircase again and saw Diego walk out of the living room towards the front door.

“You ready to go?” he asked.

She nodded and followed him outside. He lit a cigarette and she gratefully accepted one too.

“That man is completely broken. He’s not going to be of any use to us right now.”

“What do we know about this family?” She inhaled the smoke deeply.

“The mother is dead, she committed suicide four years ago. Brian’s dad was his sole carer. He works nightshifts in a factory for oil filters and has an extra job as a taxi driver a few times a week.”

“So Brian was often on his own.”

“Yes, but not through choice. I get the feeling his dad was doing everything he could to keep his head above water. He did a shift in his taxi yesterday and then went straight to the factory afterwards.”

“So his son was already dead before he had even started his shift.”

Diego nodded.

“How did you manage to find out who he was in the end?”

“Brian was a student at the VMBO in Elst. His principal recognised him.”

“Why wasn’t he attending one of the Arnhem schools?”

Diego shrugged. “That’s something we still need to find out.”

“And why didn’t the school notify his dad of his absence this morning?”

“I’m not sure yet. Perhaps they couldn’t reach his dad. We’ll have to go over and see them.”

“Do we know anything about Brian’s social circle? Did he have a lot of friends?”

“He seemed to be a bit of a loner.”

“Was he being bullied?” Julia asked.

“From the information I have received, it seems like it was more by choice.”

“How odd. Most thirteen year olds who are on their own would not have particularly opted for this out of their own free will.”

“Fourteen.”

“Whatever. Teenagers want to form part of a group. There’s often more to it.”

Diego looked at her inquisitively. She grabbed her mobile out of her handbag and called Rich. Perhaps he could help complete the image she had of Brian. There was something about that boy. Why had he become a victim of this horrendous murder, what had he been doing in that neighbourhood? She left a message on Rich’s voicemail and opened the door of Diego’s car.

*

She tried to complete the image she had of Brian once she was back at the station, but too many of the puzzle pieces were still missing. How had he managed to get his hands on those expensive things? Did his dad have that extra taxi job purely to finance his son’s luxury products? To make up for the fact he was on his own so much of the time, or to soften the loss of his mother?

She could hear footsteps coming down the corridor. Maarten Brouwer walked into her office without bothering to knock. Except for his hair, which had been cut short, he had barely changed since the last time she had seen him.

Five years and three months ago.