The Bone Hill

by James D Mortain

  ‘Like what, Ma’am,’ the support group skipper asked. ‘I don’t think I’d know it if I saw it?’

  ‘Then I suggest you and your team familiarise yourselves with Google. That goes for all of you. If anything is there, I am sure it will stand out.’

  Sergeant Li, the support group skipper, was a tall and handsome Asian man with muscles on top of his muscles. He looked like he had just come off the set of a James Bond movie with his perfectly swept hair and chiselled jaw line. Deans had not seen much in the way of diversity amongst the local officers, but that was not discrimination, as some would like to call it, that was down to the local demographic.

  ‘Sergeant Henshaw,’ the DCI said, ‘I want your team to tie up with Detective Deans at Bone Hill, where Crime Scene Manager, Mike Riley, and his team will set up station in a mobile control unit. We have another two CSI units coming shortly, one of which will deploy to Annie Rowland’s property and the other will remain on standby should this operation get larger than we currently anticipate.’ The DCI looked around the room. ‘Any questions?’

  ‘What happens if she’s not at home?’ a voice came from the back of the room.

  Annie’s long gone, Deans thought.

  ‘Just like any other Section Eight warrant. Force entry. Do the search. Seize and secure all exhibits. Leave the authority somewhere obvious and get out of there. Use the briefing packs being handed around to familiarise your teams with the targets. The Bone Hill team will make their way over as soon as possible with Detective Deans and begin the search and I want Detective Gold co-ordinating events at Annie Rowland’s property. You go in at thirteen hundred hours. That gives you well over an hour to prepare. Questions?’

  Nobody spoke at first and then a hand went up.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Ma’am, it’s not personal, but is it wise to have Detective Deans involved with this operation?’

  The DCI took a half step backwards. ‘What’s on your mind?’

  ‘Well, he is obviously deeply affected by the events of this investigation… and…’

  ‘And?’ the DCI interrupted.

  ‘Isn’t he bringing unnecessary attention with him?’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘You must have seen the news on TV and read the internet; what the media are calling him, “The Angel Detective”, I mean, it’s a bloody joke. This place is already swarming with reporters. He’s just going to turn this whole investigation into a pantomime.’

  ‘Finished?’

  The officer nodded. The DCI’s face had turned a strong shade of red.

  ‘Detective Deans is staying. He is absolutely central to this investigation and I’m not interested in personal opinions of you, or anyone else. If you don’t like the fact Detective Deans is here, then I suggest you use the door. We are about to embark on a massive operation. This is a small community. It wouldn’t have taken long for the cameras to appear in any event. Put up with it and get on with your job.’ She shook her head. ‘In fact, see me after the briefing.’

  The DCI scratched her head and her eyes sought Deans out in the crowd. She held his stare and breathed deeply.

  ‘One last thing,’ she said. ‘These murders have been brutal. Look after yourselves and each and every one of your team mates.’

  CHAPTER 34

  Wind whistled through the trees and thick branches creaked and groaned with each solid gust. Deans and Denise Moon were in company with the Police Search Advisor (PolSA), Sergeant Henshaw, and her team of six search specialists. Deans had already briefed them about the terrain and they were in full search apparel: black overalls, baseball caps and search sticks. Two CSI officers were also in attendance with video recording equipment, full recovery kit and a forensic tent stowed in the van… just in case. And of course, the crime scene manager, Mike Riley was calling the forensic shots.

  They followed Deans in a long snake using the same route that Deans had previously taken, so as to avoid any footprint cross contamination, until they reached the edge of the mound. One CSI officer was immediately behind Deans, recording their progress as they approached the site. Deans stopped by the tall derelict wall of the old church and gathered his bearings. The area looked much different in daylight. Denise came alongside and gave Deans a knowing look.

  ‘There’s a bad energy,’ she whispered in his ear.

  ‘I know,’ he said and gestured over to the tight group of trees where he saw the name carving. ‘Are you picking anything up?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t like it.’

  Deans grabbed her hand. ‘Maria’s here. She’s with us now.’

  ‘Are you ready for what might be here?’ Denise asked.

  Deans drew in a deep lung full of Maria’s perfume. ‘I’m ready.’

  Deans pulled CSM Riley and PolSA Henshaw to one side and pointed over towards the trees.

  ‘It’s just beyond that point,’ he said.

  ‘Okay,’ the PolSA said. ‘I will go over with Mike, everyone else stay here for now.’

  ‘I’m coming too,’ Deans said.

  ‘The fewer people to disturb the immediate scene, the better,’ the PolSA replied.

  ‘I get that,’ Deans said. ‘But I’ve been here before. My tread marks are already made.’

  ‘And I’m telling you to stay put.’

  Deans walked up to the sergeant and moved her away from Riley.

  ‘Are you married?’

  Henshaw glowered. ‘I don’t think that’s an appropriate question. I’m sorry, you aren’t my—’

  ‘I am married,’ Deans cut in. ‘And my wife’s decapitated head is probably buried somewhere in that ground. Don’t tell me I’m not coming.’

  Henshaw stared open mouthed at Deans. ‘Nobody told me about this,’ she said. ‘They commented about your involvement, but…’

  ‘Well, now I’m telling you.’

  Deans noticed a CSI officer pointing the camera at them. ‘Get that out of my face,’ Deans shouted.

  ‘Okay,’ Henshaw muttered. ‘Yes, of course you can come.’

  ‘And Denise Moon,’ Deans said.

  ‘Fine – let’s just get on with it shall we, before the light fades.’

  They walked over to the bed of raised soil and Deans pointed to the tree with the carving. The CSI camera operator filmed the tree.

  Deans found the edge of the camouflaged netting and unhooked it. He pulled it back to expose the dark weedless earth.

  ‘Is this it?’ Henshaw asked.

  ‘This is it,’ Deans replied.

  ‘It’s not much.’

  Maybe not to you.

  ‘Okay, we’ll start at one corner and work our way through.’

  Denise tugged Deans’ arm and leaned in close to him. ‘She’s not taking this very seriously.’

  ‘Not yet,’ Deans said.

  The PolSA called over the six PCs and spread them out in a line, shoulder-to-shoulder, and an arm’s length between them.

  As they commenced sifting through the cloggy topsoil, Henshaw turned back to Deans. ‘We’ll start with a surface probe and then go deeper if required.’

  ‘It will be.’

  Henshaw smiled and came up closer to Deans. ‘Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t realise it was you… I mean, we obviously heard about—’

  ‘How long will this take?’ Deans asked.

  ‘How long is a piece of string?’

  ‘I want to stick around as long as I can, but I really want to get across for the warrant on Annie Rowland.’

  The PolSA scanned the patch of ground with her eyes. ‘I should think no more than twenty minutes for the surface sweep, and then we’ll need to mark it out and do a sectioned-dig. That will take some time.’

  ‘No problem. Just make sure you do a thorough search.’

  ‘Don’t worry we will.’

  CHAPTER 35

  Deans arrived at the rendezvous point with less than ten minutes to go before the warrant team went in.

  ‘What are you do
ing here?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘I’m coming in too. The dig is going to take ages.’

  She looked down at her wristwatch. ‘That’s enough waiting. Let’s muster.’

  They were already drawing attention from the locals. A CSI and riot van, two response vehicles and several unmarked cars were never going to blend into the background of this small village. They were in the rear car park of a pub. The landlord had already been out to say that their presence was putting his customers off their beers. The search team van rumbled into life and drove away from the car park towards their target. Sarah, Deans and Denise went in one unmarked car, two other suits from the hastily established investigation team took one car apiece and the district units brought up the rear.

  As they neared the flat, Deans saw the support group van parked on the side pavement fifty metres short of the block of flats and officers were scuttling beneath the high wall line towards the main front entrance, attempting to remain out of sight of any onlookers from within the building.

  Sarah continued driving to the rear of the premises where they joined the two other detectives and a ‘door opening team’ from the district officers.

  They were all wearing stab vests, including Deans beneath his outer layer. Although, Denise was instructed to remain within the safe confines of the car.

  Sarah double-checked her watch. ‘Go. Go. Go,’ she said through the radio.

  The ‘door opening team’ ran up the rear steps, feet clanking against metal griddles and continued until they were outside of the door. They knew the routine and seamlessly got into position. Deans and the others joined them and Sarah gave the team leader a nod. The three officers were in full protective kit, including NATO helmets and shields. The lead officer tugged at the door handle. It was locked. He banged loudly on the flat door. ‘This is the police,’ his helmet-muffled-voice shouted. There was no response. ‘This is the police we have a warrant to enter these premises. Step away from the door or you may be hurt.’

  One of the officers produced a large door ram from a black holdall, known throughout the force as “the big red key” and lined it up against the face of the door.

  Deans raised his hand and walked over to them. The officers looked at him with surprised frustration. They were on the fourth floor, what was Annie going to do, jump? Deans lifted the letterbox flap and shouted inside. ‘Annie, this is Detective Deans. Please open the door.’ He turned his ear to the door, but heard nothing inside the flat.

  ‘Annie,’ he called out again. ‘We are coming in.’ Deans gave the door team a nod and he stepped safely to the side. The officer with the ram dropped his helmet visor and smashed the door with immense force. The door resisted once but then succumbed to the second mighty blow from the sixteen-kilogramme steel Enforcer.

  The entry team swarmed into the flat shouting, ‘Police Warrant’ from the lead officer.

  Deans made his way through and stood in the centre of the living room. He looked all around. The Raven Banner had gone. Sarah came alongside him and they both stared at the blank wall.

  ‘She knew we were coming,’ Deans said.

  ‘How?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Somebody told her.’ He walked to the window and looked out into the bay. ‘We turn this place upside down.’

  ‘And if we don’t find anything?’ Sarah asked.

  Deans zeroed in on the pebble ridge in the distance. ‘Well, then we go to Plan B.’

  ‘Which is?’

  Deans wiped his eyelids with the back of a finger.

  ‘We make sure she comes to us.’

  After two hours of searching, the flat had drawn a blank on all fronts, to the point that the support group skipper was questioning the validity of the raid.

  DS Jackson was waiting for them back at the station with a sour face.

  ‘Deans with me,’ he demanded and headed for the small bollocking room with which Deans was by now becoming very familiar.

  ‘What happened?’ Jackson glared. He did not sit down, so neither did Deans.

  ‘She knew we were coming. The place was cleaned out. All she left was a small pile of dirty laundry.’

  Jackson dipped his head. The skin on his crown was stretched tight.

  ‘We took up the flooring, emptied the freezer, you name it,’ Deans said.

  Jackson placed a finger to his lips and looked lost in his thoughts.

  ‘Two scenarios,’ Deans said. ‘The first visit spooked her and she took flight—’

  ‘Or?’ Jackson said.

  ‘Or, this is all part of the next phase of whatever they’ve planned.’

  ‘They?’

  Deans reached for the door handle and pushed it closed. Jackson stood tall with wide staring eyes.

  ‘Something happened to me,’ Deans said with dampened tones.

  Jackson didn’t respond. His features remained stiff.

  ‘This is far bigger than we anticipated,’ Deans said.

  Jackson blinked.

  ‘The haunted house on the cliff edge…’

  Jackson tilted his head back and narrowed his eyes to small slits.

  ‘You were involved – when Ruby Mansell died,’ Deans continued.

  Jackson slowly brought his head back to the level.

  ‘I saw the Herald report on the internet,’ Deans said.

  ‘Yes,’ Jackson finally said. ‘I was involved.’

  ‘Did you attend the body in situ… did you see Ruby Mansell?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Was there anything unusual about the strangulation?’

  Jackson reached for a chair. He pulled it out from beneath the table and sat down. He gestured for Deans to do the same and waited until Deans was seated opposite him.

  ‘The official stance was that she was asphyxiated. The implement used was never located. It was as if…’

  ‘As if she strangled herself with her own hands,’ Deans said finishing the sentence.

  Jackson met Deans’ stare. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Because the same thing happened to me.’

  ‘You know, you’ve been quite the surprise,’ Jackson said rising to his feet. He moved slowly behind Deans’ chair and placed his heavy hands on Deans’ shoulders.

  Deans tensed against the downwards pressure.

  ‘At first, I didn’t want you around,’ Jackson said. ‘You were just too bloody… towny. But your mind is…’ he hesitated and released the pressure from Deans’ shoulders. ‘Well, it’s on another level.’

  Deans tracked him all the way back to his seat.

  ‘How much of this is you, and how much of it is Denise Moon?’ Jackson asked wiping the cloth of his suit trousers.

  Deans pouted and shook his head.

  ‘What will you do, once all of this is over?’ Jackson asked.

  ‘Go back to Bath, I guess. Continue serving my community.’

  Jackson beamed a smug grin. ‘I’m not the chief; you can cut the political bollocks.’

  Deans looked down at the tabletop.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It may never be over for me.’

  Jackson smiled as if he was drawing pleasure from Deans’ misery. He stood up again and walked to the door. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’d better see what the boss has got lined up for us next.’

  CHAPTER 36

  By the time Deans arrived, the woodland was a hive of activity. Three more forensic vans blocked access to the narrow road and inquisitive members of the public were braving the lashing rain to have a nosey. Two uniformed PCs were standing guard at the perimeter of police tape wrapped around every other tree trunk at the leading edge of the wood. Jackson was standing the other side staring at Deans with a deadpan face.

  ‘Let them through,’ Jackson ordered the PCs, who lifted the tape allowing Deans and Denise to duck under and join Jackson on the other side.

  ‘We can’t tell for sure yet what we have,’ Jackson said.

  Deans stomped onwards through the broken twigs, barely acknowledgin
g Jackson’s presence.

  ‘But I wanted you to know right away,’ Jackson said, trying to keep up with Deans, despite his obvious mobility limitations.

  Deans didn’t speak and continued towards the burial ground. As he got closer, the hairs on the back of his neck tingled and the air deep inside his lungs felt heavy. Up ahead, he saw seven suited forensic officers and two large white forensic tents erected over the ground that Deans had brought them to. A ball of saliva stuck in the back of his throat and he slowed as he began to notice the expressions on the collective faces.

  ‘Let me go first,’ Jackson said. ‘Wait here a moment.’

  Deans was oblivious to the fact that Jackson had been on his shoulder the entire time. Deans stopped walking. His body was limp and heavy. He looked around the now active scene as the rain collected in his hair and trickled down the front of his face. Everyone was moving in slow motion and then he saw Sarah Gold, gaping back at him. She was standing on the periphery of activity, her coat wrapped tightly around her body, her arms hugging herself and her hood up over her head.

  Deans approached and joined her at the edge of the dig. She didn’t speak, but looked into the open side of the forensic tent. Deans followed her gaze and saw three CSI officers kneeling around the pit in the ground. He edged closer. Jackson intercepted him.

  ‘Let them do what needs to be done. Don’t do anything that will harm—’

  ‘Is she there?’ Deans asked.

  Jackson huffed and groaned.

  Deans looked at him. ‘Is my wife there?’

  Jackson rubbed his nose, partially covering his mouth as he spoke. ‘We don’t know,’ he said.