wave in their direction, not waiting for any response. As his computer booted up he reflected on the case again. Since Derek Peterson was the victim, the attacker was still out there. If only he could trace the person who had called 999 a lot more of what actually took place in the car park would be revealed.
Jon typed Peterson's details into the computer then reached for the coffee cup, blowing air across the surface of the liquid as he scanned the man's record.
Gross indecency in 1993. Lost his job at the Silverdale facility for young offenders. He'd been placed on the sex offenders' register after that and it looked like his employment record had taken a turn for the worse. In fact, Jon wondered, thinking about the state of the man's house, he probably hadn't worked since.
He looked at the personal details section. Prior to enrolling as a mature student at Salford Polytechnic in 1988, Peterson had worked as a finance officer for the council. The course he'd signed up for lasted one year. Health and Social Welfare. Jon shook his head. About five hours a week and an automatic pass for anyone who turned up for over half the lectures. That had obviously been enough to get him a job as a care assistant at the young offenders' facility. Classic behaviour of a paedophile; secreting himself into a position of trust that brought him into contact with youngsters.
He leaned back, allowing his mind to construct a possible scenario for the incident. Peterson worked in the care home from 1989 to his arrest in 1993. Four years with vulnerable teenagers. Peterson appeared to have been singled out by his attacker. Could there be some sort of a connection to the period Peterson spent at the Silverdale facility?
Jon made a mental note to pay the place a visit. He took a tentative sip of coffee. Still too bloody hot. What about Peterson himself ? He didn't like the fact a policeman had come knocking on his door. No surprise in that neighbourhood. Jon contemplated turning up in a patrol car with a uniform. Would a bit of pressure make the bastard cooperate or would it make him clam up even more?
His phone went. 'DI Spicer.'
'Jon, it's Sergeant Innes in the radio control room.'
'Morning, Graham. What can I do you for?'
'You're currently logged on to the record of one Derek
Peterson.'
Jon's eyes went to his computer screen. Anyone else accessing a person's police record was alerted to the fact if another officer was also logged on. 'I am.'
'Is he of especial interest to you?'
'He is.' He leant forward. This is going to be interesting.
'Then you might like to know that his body's just been discovered in a car park by a lake at Daisy Nook Country Park.' Bloody hell. The place mentioned on that dogging web site.
'Where's that?'
'Just off junction twenty-two of the M60. Out near Oldham.' Jon pictured the geography of Manchester. Oldham was on the north-east edge of the city, not far from where Peterson was attacked the other night. 'OK, what's the score?'
'A fisherman found his body at first light. Little more than an hour ago.'
'And is the scene secure?'
'Yes. Uniforms have taped it off and I've called out the major incident wagon.'
'Who else have you let know?'
'No one. I was thinking of putting a call in to McCloughlin. His syndicate is down for the next runner.'
'Don't.' Jon realised the word had come out with a little too much force. 'Peterson is central to a case I'm on. I'll let DCI Summerby know and see how he wants to play it.'
'Your shout, but I need to allocate it a FWIN and put it on the system.'
'Of course,' Jon replied, hanging up. Once the crime had been given a Force Wide Incident Number and entered on to the computer it wouldn't be long before his superiors spotted it. He needed to contact Summerby to make sure no one else was given the case. He picked up the phone and punched in his senior officer's number. Engaged.
He'd go up there himself. After hurrying across the office, he bounded up the stairs and
Jon typed Peterson's details into the computer then reached for the coffee cup, blowing air across the surface of the liquid as he scanned the man's record.
Gross indecency in 1993. Lost his job at the Silverdale facility for young offenders. He'd been placed on the sex offenders' register after that and it looked like his employment record had taken a turn for the worse. In fact, Jon wondered, thinking about the state of the man's house, he probably hadn't worked since.
He looked at the personal details section. Prior to enrolling as a mature student at Salford Polytechnic in 1988, Peterson had worked as a finance officer for the council. The course he'd signed up for lasted one year. Health and Social Welfare. Jon shook his head. About five hours a week and an automatic pass for anyone who turned up for over half the lectures. That had obviously been enough to get him a job as a care assistant at the young offenders' facility. Classic behaviour of a paedophile; secreting himself into a position of trust that brought him into contact with youngsters.
He leaned back, allowing his mind to construct a possible scenario for the incident. Peterson worked in the care home from 1989 to his arrest in 1993. Four years with vulnerable teenagers. Peterson appeared to have been singled out by his attacker. Could there be some sort of a connection to the period Peterson spent at the Silverdale facility?
Jon made a mental note to pay the place a visit. He took a tentative sip of coffee. Still too bloody hot. What about Peterson himself ? He didn't like the fact a policeman had come knocking on his door. No surprise in that neighbourhood. Jon contemplated turning up in a patrol car with a uniform. Would a bit of pressure make the bastard cooperate or would it make him clam up even more?
His phone went. 'DI Spicer.'
'Jon, it's Sergeant Innes in the radio control room.'
'Morning, Graham. What can I do you for?'
'You're currently logged on to the record of one Derek
Peterson.'
Jon's eyes went to his computer screen. Anyone else accessing a person's police record was alerted to the fact if another officer was also logged on. 'I am.'
'Is he of especial interest to you?'
'He is.' He leant forward. This is going to be interesting.
'Then you might like to know that his body's just been discovered in a car park by a lake at Daisy Nook Country Park.' Bloody hell. The place mentioned on that dogging web site.
'Where's that?'
'Just off junction twenty-two of the M60. Out near Oldham.' Jon pictured the geography of Manchester. Oldham was on the north-east edge of the city, not far from where Peterson was attacked the other night. 'OK, what's the score?'
'A fisherman found his body at first light. Little more than an hour ago.'
'And is the scene secure?'
'Yes. Uniforms have taped it off and I've called out the major incident wagon.'
'Who else have you let know?'
'No one. I was thinking of putting a call in to McCloughlin. His syndicate is down for the next runner.'
'Don't.' Jon realised the word had come out with a little too much force. 'Peterson is central to a case I'm on. I'll let DCI Summerby know and see how he wants to play it.'
'Your shout, but I need to allocate it a FWIN and put it on the system.'
'Of course,' Jon replied, hanging up. Once the crime had been given a Force Wide Incident Number and entered on to the computer it wouldn't be long before his superiors spotted it. He needed to contact Summerby to make sure no one else was given the case. He picked up the phone and punched in his senior officer's number. Engaged.
He'd go up there himself. After hurrying across the office, he bounded up the stairs and
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