by A L Fraine
So he figured he’d make use of them.
“Show me,” he asked.
“I’m not going back in there,” one of the boys said, as the others got up and resigned themselves to the task at hand.
“You are, and if there is a body in there, you’ll need to stay here so the police can talk to you.”
“The police?”
“Fuck,” one of them cursed.
“Show me the way,” Alan pressed.
The girl was the first to move. The boys followed, and Alan brought up the rear. Making his way up through the loading dock, he followed the quartet through the bay, into the main room and the massive hunks of machinery that stood silent on the dirty factory floor.
They moved left but stopped short of reaching the door. As Alan caught up to them, the girl pointed. “It’s in there.
Alan looked over at the open door and felt a sense of dread grow deep in the pit of his stomach that he’d not felt in a while. Brutus sniffed the air and then started to bark in the direction of the room.
“Stop, Brutus,” Alan said, chastising the dog, but he wouldn’t stop, which was bizarre. He never disobeyed a command like that. Alan frowned, his unease growing as he looked up at the doorway.
What dark secrets would the room hold?
Steeling himself with a long cleansing breath, he gritted his teeth and concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other. Were they having him on? Were these kids pranking him?
His mind raced with all kinds of possibilities regarding what was about to happen, and very few of them were good or pleasant.
Each step revealed more of the room as Brutus continued to pull and bark despite his best efforts to calm him.
As he was about level with the door, Alan felt his stomach flip and then drop as an old chair came into view, along with the slumped body that was sat in it. The stench in here was nauseating. He couldn’t help but stare at the thing and the black pool of dried blood that covered the floor beneath the chair.
“Oh, shit…”
4
“So, this’ll be your office,” Kate said, opening the door to the side room and stepping inside. Jon followed and surveyed the modest space with its desk, chairs, filing cabinets, shelves, and an old leather sofa in one corner.
It was a nice space and more than adequate for his needs.
“Alright, thanks,” he replied and moved around the desk to sit in his chair and test it out. It creaked as he settled his weight into it, but was otherwise perfectly comfortable.
“Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” Jon replied, deadpan.
Kate leant against the door frame and regarded him, tilting her head sideways. “So, what brings a northerner like you, all the way down here then?”
“Well, it’s not the prices of things, that’s for sure.”
“Heh, yeah. Things can be a little more expensive around here.”
“You’re not kidding. I was looking at house prices and nearly had a heart attack.”
“You’ll do alright on a DCI’s salary.”
“You think? I reckon I’ll be living on pot noodle for the foreseeable.”
“So why’d you come?”
“Damon invited me,” he replied, opening the drawers in the side of the desk, finding them empty for the most part.
“Damon? And you just said yes?”
“We go back a ways,” Jon replied. “He used to be a DI in my unit.”
“Oh, really? That’s interesting. I had no idea.”
“Sir?”
Jon looked up to see Nathan step into the doorway beside Kate. “What’s up, Halliwell?”
“I’ll be out most of the day. I’ll be at Guildford Crown Court, watching a case we handed to them.”
“Which one?”
“Abban Devlin.”
Jon noticed Kate close her eyes and sigh at the name. Nathan glanced at her and put his hand on her shoulder. She smiled briefly but looked troubled.
“I saw that on the news,” Jon remarked, remembering the news report this morning in the hotel room.
“Yeah,” Nathan replied. “His wife’s kicking up a stink. Looks like she’s trying to single-handedly reignite the Troubles.”
“So that was your case, this Abban guy? You arrested him?”
“Yeah,” Nathan replied. “The last one before we became the SIU. It looks like he’s going to go down for kidnapping and a few other bits. The Irish government wants him extradited to stand trial for murder over there, too.”
“Impressive. I hope I can live up to these high standards.”
“I’m sure you will,” Kate replied.
“I’ll catch you later,” Nathan said and patted Kate’s shoulder. She touched his hand in return.
“See ya, Fox.”
“Laters, Irish.”
Jon watched him go and fixed Kate with a questioning look. “I thought I detected a hint of an Irish accent in you.”
“It’s from my family on my mother’s side. She was Irish and I spent a lot of time there growing up.”
“I see. And Fox?”
Kate smiled. “I’ll let Nathan explain that one, or maybe you can figure it out for yourself,” she replied with a wink, before retreating from the doorway.
Jon nodded, and smiled to himself, stifling a smirk. He shook his head, turning it away from Kate as she walked away. What had gotten into him, today? He’d only been away from Nottingham for a couple of days, and he was already eyeing up one of the detectives on his team.
He needed to get his head into the game, and looked around the room once more.
The office wasn’t huge, but it would certainly be enough for his needs. He fired up his PC and was surprised to see a modern operating system powering it, rather than an ancient crumbling edition of Windows 95 or something. They really did have all the mod cons.
The computer got to a login screen, and Jon grimaced. He needed to get himself registered on the system.
Getting up from his desk, he was already having ideas about what he wanted to bring in and have to hand. He’d need to visit his storage locker, where he’d dumped all his stuff after moving down.
Looking out over the desks and the people sat at them, he noticed there were several empty ones. The core team sat closest to his office and the main doors, and beyond them were several civilian investigators that helped handle much of the drudgery of office work and trawling through databases and such.
“Can someone get me my login details for the system?” he called out.
“I’ll get them, sir,” DC Dion Dyer replied.
“Thanks, son.”
“Sir?” DS Rachel Arthur called out. “I’ve just had a call, looks like we’ve had a case come in.”
“Excellent, and on day one, what are the chances?”
“I’ll print off the details.”
“Thanks, I’ll take this on. Kate?”
“Sir?”
“You’re with me.”
“Sir,” she replied and stood up, pulling her coat on as Rachel finished printing the details off and handing them to her.
“We’ll take my car,” Jon suggested, waving his keys at her.
“Be still my beating heart,” she quipped. “Come on, let’s go.”
They headed downstairs, Kate opening the doors as they went with her ID badge.
“Thank you,” he said as they passed through another door.
“That’s all you needed me for, isn’t it?”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice,” Jon replied as they walked through reception.
“Sir?” the woman on the desk called out.
“Yello.”
“I’ve got your new ID badge, here you go.”
He took the badge with his photo and details on it and slung it around his neck. “Thanks.”
Heading outside, Jon led Kate over to the car and proceeded to press his key fob fifteen times before it finally unlocked. I’ll need to put a new battery in it before long, he thought, as t
hey climbed into the vehicle.
“So, where are we headed?”
“The edge of Epsom,” Kate replied. “Turn right, I’ll direct you.”
“Gotcha,” he replied and manoeuvred out of the car park
“This reminds me of my first day on the Murder Team,” Kate commented, a wistful tone to her voice.
“Oh?” Jon replied.
“Yeah. First day here, in this building, I was out on a case within moments of stepping into the place.”
“And how did that turn out?”
“Alright, in the end. I was partnered with Nathan by the previous DCI and sent into the deep end on a pretty messed up case.”
“How messed up?”
“A local businessman had been tied to a tree and sacrificed,” she replied. Jon glanced over.
“Sacrificed? Really?”
“Oh yeah. It’s not all tea and cakes with the vicar around here, you know. We have our fair share of crazies too.”
“Doesn’t everywhere?”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
“So, how did it turn out,” Jon asked. “This sacrifice case of yours?”
“We found him. He was just a local family man, with a wife and kid who had no idea what he was up to. It was pretty messed up. He’s in prison now.”
“It’s mad, isn’t it? I’ve seen that kind of thing too. They seem like normal people. Just like, nice, you know? But they lead this double life of slaughtering people when they’re away from the family home. It’s madness, really.”
“Yeah. This guy, though, he was part of something bigger… well… let’s not get into that now. But yeah, that was one hell of an introduction into being a detective.”
“And yet, you survived to tell the tale.”
“The scars might not be visible, but they’re there, trust me,” Kate remarked, again she sounded introspective. Jon could tell her first case had left an impression on her and would be something she carried with her for a while. He could understand that though. The first few cases of many a detective were often the ones that shaped your worldview, especially if they were as shocking as Kate’s sounded.
Jon nodded. “I believe it. I think we all carry some kind of scars, especially once you’ve been in this job long enough. They might not always be obvious, but they’re there. Broken marriages, estranged kids, depression, PTSD, I’ve seen it all.”
“I think it takes a certain type of person to do this job,” Kate said.
“Oh, for sure.”
“So, you married or anything?” she asked. “Did you bring your family down with you?”
Jon smiled and smirked. “No. I’m single. Nothing to keep me away from the office but myself.” He wondered about asking her the same question but wasn’t sure it was appropriate.
“I can relate,” Kate replied, and Jon quickly reversed his decision, taking her comment as permission.
“You’re single too?”
“Yeah, for now. So’s Nathan. What a sad old bunch of loners.”
“Don’t knock it. It’s us loners that keep these people safe,” he commented, waving towards the other passing cars.
“I suppose,” she replied and gazed out the window.
Jon concentrated on the road ahead and they sat in silence for a while, until he realised he’d need to make a choice on which roads to take. They were nearing Epsom, but he felt sure Kate had mentioned it was on the outskirts.
“Which way?” he asked. She didn’t answer. Looking over, she was still gazing out the window. “Hey, Kate?”
“Huh?”
“Hi, welcome to the land of the living, I’m Jon.”
“What? Oh, shit. Sorry. I’m away with the fairies.”
“I thought you seemed a little distracted.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.”
“Like what?” Jon pressed.
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Turn right here.”
“Okay,” he replied, letting it drop.
It didn’t take them long to navigate to the crime scene, and Jon was soon pulling up alongside other vehicles, marked and unmarked on the side of the road before they got out and passed through the Police line without issue, the officer on duty signing them in as they passed.
“Aaah, well, well, well. O’Connell, I see you have some fresh meat for the grinder.”
“Dyson,” Kate replied to the PC was he walked over.
“So, where’s Fox, then?”
“Guildford Court House, one of ours is in the dock,” she replied. “This is DCI Pilgrim.”
The PC, a tall thin man, turned to him and smiled. “Sir,” he said. “I take it you’re the new team leader then?”
“Aye,” he replied. “That’s about the long and short of it.”
Dyson narrowed his eyes at him. “Judging from that accent, you’re not from around here, then?”
Jon shook his head. “Nope. I’m from Nottingham.”
“A northerner?” he replied with a raised eyebrow. “No offence, sir.”
“None taken,” he replied. “So, what’ve you got for us then?”
“Well, it’s not quite as strange as the ones you’ve had recently,” he said to Kate.
“Good,” she replied.
They started down the track with its cracked concrete and overgrown trees and bushes on either side, and they soon passed a porta-cabin on their left. Jon craned his neck to look inside, only to be met by the face of a large dog that jumped up to look out the window. It barked as they passed, making Jon jump.
“Security station,” Dyson said. “The body was reported by the guard who was on duty. There were some kids here who found it and triggered the passive infrared sensors in the building. They took him to the body, and then he called it in.”
“And where are they now?” Jon asked.
“We have them. They’re here, onsite.”
“Good, we’ll need to take statements from them.”
“Of course,” Dyson replied, and led them through the open gates, past other officers and police vehicles until the road opened up into a wide-open space, surrounded by wild, overgrown trees and undergrowth. In the centre of the cracked concrete area, Jon regarded the derelict buildings and the desolate atmosphere they gave off.
“Well, this is cheery,” Jon remarked and looked over at Kate with a wry smile, but she wasn’t looking at him. She eyed the building cautiously with a troubled expression. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, fine,” she replied as they walked down the side of the building and around to a loading dock. Outside, the SOCOs had set themselves up. Vans had been parked up and white tents had been erected between them where people busied themselves. Many of them wore white coveralls with gloves, masks, and goggles.
“Kate,” one of the figures in white said walking over. “Good to see you.”
“Sheridan,” Kate replied. “This is Jon Pilgrim, the new DCI with the SIU. Jon, this is Sheridan Lane.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Sheridan said. “I work in the same building and lead the SIU’s SOCO team.”
“A pleasure,” Jon replied and offered his hand. He couldn’t make much out about her as only her eyes were visible, but it looked like she was smiling beneath her mask.
Sheridan raised her hands and wiggled her fingers rather than take his offered hand. “Sorry, no can do.”
“Oh, of course.”
“Get suited up, I’ll take you in. Jo, Stel, can you get these two some gear?”
Within moments they’d pulled on the protective clothing. Jon fiddled with the hood and mask until he felt relatively comfortable in it and then followed Sheridan into the building through the loading dock. They walked through the main factory floor and up to a side room.
Sheridan walked in and stood to one side, allowing Jon to look the scene over.
“Where are we in the process?” he asked.
“The divisional surgeon’s been and gone and pronounced life extinct,” she replied.
/> “Excellent, always good to know she’s dead,” he replied as he looked at the body. It sat slumped in the chair, leaning forward, her head lowered, her dark copper hair falling around her face. Her body was held in place by whatever was keeping her hands bound behind the chair. There was an awful lot of blood on the floor beneath her, mainly towards the back. “Wouldn’t want that being challenged in court.”
Sheridan nodded. “The Photographer has also made his pass, so we have stills and video of the scene. Now it’s our turn.”
“First impressions?” Jon asked. Being careful where he stood, he walked into the room. The girl was still dressed, wearing jeans and a top, and he noticed there was a phone and a purse on the floor, a short distance away from the body.
“From what I can see, it looks to me like she was tortured before she was killed.”
“Really?” Kate asked.
“Come round here,” Sheridan directed them.
Jon did as she asked and moved to the back of the room, behind the body. Sheridan crouched down beside the chair, and without touching, directed his attention to the victim’s hands.
“She’s been cuffed to the chair, and there’s evidence of bruising around her wrists, suggesting she’d been struggling against them.”
“She’s missing two fingers,” Jon said as he crouched down and took a closer look at the victim’s right hand, which was missing its pinkie and ring fingers. The severed digits were still on the floor beneath the chair.
“Done before she was killed. In fact, I believe they played a part in her death. A small part, mind.”
“She bled out?” Jon replied, frowning at the long cuts up the inside of both her arms. They were deep, and her hands were covered in the dried blood that had pooled beneath her.
“That seems to be the case,” Sheridan answered. I’ve spotted some bruising on her face too. So I think she was punched, at least twice, then had her fingers cut off before he finally slashed her wrists and let her bleed to death.”
“He?” Jon asked.
Sheridan shrugged. “Just hedging my bets. We have some footprints which we think point to a person who part-carried, part-dragged her in here. Given the weight of an unconscious body, I’d say it was most likely a man.”
