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Authors: Mark Edwards, Louise Voss
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hotel.’ The way her eyes jumped around the room made it clear that Heidi was worried about getting into trouble.
‘Go on.’
‘A couple of years ago, someone got into a few rooms at one of the hotels in Essex and stole valuables – a laptop, an iPad, some jewellery, cash. It turned out that they had – how did they put it? – reverse-engineered a master key so it was able to open any door.’
‘Hang on – you mean they basically created their own master key, waltzed into the hotel and opened whatever door they fancied ?’
‘That’s how I understood it. It was this young lad, a hacker. But he got caught after boasting about it on his website. Stupid prat. I know we made some changes to the security system after that and we were all told it wouldn’t happen again. But . . .’
‘But?’
‘Well, you know what these hackers are like. It’s a challenge, isn’t it? Maybe that’s what happened here.’
Patrick and Carmella took the lift back to the third floor. Patrick wanted to see the room again, not because he expected to find any useful information there but because being at the scene of the crime helped him focus, allowed him to imagine the scene. He used the key Heidi had given them to open the door, which was still sealed off with yellow tape.
‘So our murderer is also a hacker who knows how to reverse-engineer hotel keys?’ Carmella said.
Patrick sighed. ‘It seems unlikely, doesn’t it? Let’s talk to the tech guys, but I’m guessing it isn’t easy to do.’
‘But maybe our murderer acquired a hacked key from someone. Bought it online, or paid someone to create one.’
‘That’s exactly what I was thinking.’ He tapped the key against the palm of his hand. ‘Which means we might finally have a lead.’
Patrick ducked under the tape and entered the room, Carmella following. The smell of perfume had faded now and been replaced with the musty smell of closed rooms and dust. The Travel Inn had asked the police not to release the room number to the press, fearful that no-one would ever want to stay here again. Patrick wanted to tell them not to worry. There were probably a lot of people out there who would get a kick out of staying in a room where a girl was murdered.
The perfume that had been sprayed into Rose’s wounds was being analysed at the lab and results were expected back soon. Patrick didn’t expect to learn much from this. What difference would it make if the killer used Chanel No.5 or CK1? Maybe it would tell them whether he could afford expensive perfume, but that was about it. All the wheelie bins and patches of wasteland within a mile radius had been searched, but there was no sign of Rose’s clothes. They were probably on a dump somewhere, Patrick thought.
‘Let’s get back to the station,’ he said. ‘We need to find out if there are any hackers for hire out there selling hotel key cards.’
As they left the hotel, his mobile rang. It was Gareth.
‘Ah, Gareth, I’ve got a job for—’
Gareth interrupted. ‘Sorry, boss, but something’s happened.’
Patrick stopped walking and gestured for Carmella to wait. The rain pummelled the pavement, soaking the two detectives as Patrick bent almost double, protecting his phone from the downpour. He couldn’t hear what Gareth was saying.
‘Can you repeat that?’
‘I said, we’ve found another body. Another girl.’
Chapter 11
Day 3 – Chloe
C hloe Hedges sat on the edge of her bed and checked her phone for the twentieth time in the space of five minutes . She had been caught on the horns of this particular dilemma for the last few hours – Jess had not returned her calls or texts since they’d parted after last night’s vigil. This in itself wasn’t unusual – Jess was the touchiest of all Chloe’s friends and could be offended at the drop of a hat, leading to a period of cold- shouldering for perhaps three or four days. And they had argued after the vigil – Chloe had got annoyed with Jess’s
‘Go on.’
‘A couple of years ago, someone got into a few rooms at one of the hotels in Essex and stole valuables – a laptop, an iPad, some jewellery, cash. It turned out that they had – how did they put it? – reverse-engineered a master key so it was able to open any door.’
‘Hang on – you mean they basically created their own master key, waltzed into the hotel and opened whatever door they fancied ?’
‘That’s how I understood it. It was this young lad, a hacker. But he got caught after boasting about it on his website. Stupid prat. I know we made some changes to the security system after that and we were all told it wouldn’t happen again. But . . .’
‘But?’
‘Well, you know what these hackers are like. It’s a challenge, isn’t it? Maybe that’s what happened here.’
Patrick and Carmella took the lift back to the third floor. Patrick wanted to see the room again, not because he expected to find any useful information there but because being at the scene of the crime helped him focus, allowed him to imagine the scene. He used the key Heidi had given them to open the door, which was still sealed off with yellow tape.
‘So our murderer is also a hacker who knows how to reverse-engineer hotel keys?’ Carmella said.
Patrick sighed. ‘It seems unlikely, doesn’t it? Let’s talk to the tech guys, but I’m guessing it isn’t easy to do.’
‘But maybe our murderer acquired a hacked key from someone. Bought it online, or paid someone to create one.’
‘That’s exactly what I was thinking.’ He tapped the key against the palm of his hand. ‘Which means we might finally have a lead.’
Patrick ducked under the tape and entered the room, Carmella following. The smell of perfume had faded now and been replaced with the musty smell of closed rooms and dust. The Travel Inn had asked the police not to release the room number to the press, fearful that no-one would ever want to stay here again. Patrick wanted to tell them not to worry. There were probably a lot of people out there who would get a kick out of staying in a room where a girl was murdered.
The perfume that had been sprayed into Rose’s wounds was being analysed at the lab and results were expected back soon. Patrick didn’t expect to learn much from this. What difference would it make if the killer used Chanel No.5 or CK1? Maybe it would tell them whether he could afford expensive perfume, but that was about it. All the wheelie bins and patches of wasteland within a mile radius had been searched, but there was no sign of Rose’s clothes. They were probably on a dump somewhere, Patrick thought.
‘Let’s get back to the station,’ he said. ‘We need to find out if there are any hackers for hire out there selling hotel key cards.’
As they left the hotel, his mobile rang. It was Gareth.
‘Ah, Gareth, I’ve got a job for—’
Gareth interrupted. ‘Sorry, boss, but something’s happened.’
Patrick stopped walking and gestured for Carmella to wait. The rain pummelled the pavement, soaking the two detectives as Patrick bent almost double, protecting his phone from the downpour. He couldn’t hear what Gareth was saying.
‘Can you repeat that?’
‘I said, we’ve found another body. Another girl.’
Chapter 11
Day 3 – Chloe
C hloe Hedges sat on the edge of her bed and checked her phone for the twentieth time in the space of five minutes . She had been caught on the horns of this particular dilemma for the last few hours – Jess had not returned her calls or texts since they’d parted after last night’s vigil. This in itself wasn’t unusual – Jess was the touchiest of all Chloe’s friends and could be offended at the drop of a hat, leading to a period of cold- shouldering for perhaps three or four days. And they had argued after the vigil – Chloe had got annoyed with Jess’s
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