by Carol Wyer
‘Mike, you got anything else you want to ask before we remove the body?’
Mike shook his head. ‘Nah, best get started. I’ll put Naomi on it.’
Naomi Singh was a top forensic anthropologist with a no-nonsense approach who shared the lab with her husband Darshan, a specialist in forensic odontology. Mike had nothing but praise for the pair of them. He shifted again. Natalie felt his discomfort.
Ben nodded briefly. ‘Okay. Could you arrange the removal, please?’
Natalie moved outside and flicked her Maglite back on. The torch beam stretched across the field, catching the corkscrewing raindrops. Mike joined her and pulled his collar up against his neck.
‘You okay?’ he asked.
‘What do you think?’
‘Yeah. Dumb question. Too many shitty memories, eh?’
Natalie couldn’t answer. She’d spent so many hours after the Olivia Chester investigation winding back the clock, reliving each moment, and each time trying to will a different outcome, until she had no more to give. The fact was the case had gone wrong. She’d been part of a team investigating the disappearance of the thirteen-year-old in Manchester. Her body had finally been discovered in a disused warehouse. It was Natalie’s firm belief they’d reacted to leads too slowly, and not for the first time. There’d been another case, before Olivia – one that had affected her so badly she couldn’t bring herself to think about it. She fought back that memory and concentrated on Olivia, who might have been saved if the case had been handled differently. She couldn’t give answers to Olivia’s parents, but she’d try and find some for the parents of this youngster.
Mike walked her to the buildings. Neil Linton was resting against a wall, eyes trained on the activity now taking place as forensic officers hastened past them, a folded stretcher under one’s arm. Neil’s eyes rested on Natalie’s face as she drew level with him. ‘No need to tell me,’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t be here if it were an animal out there. It looked to be a small body…’ He left the rest of the sentence hanging.
‘Best go home and get some rest, sir,’ Mike said.
As they headed back to the car park, Natalie asked, ‘What’s the story with him? Why’s he still here?’
‘No big deal. He’s under pressure to complete the work here. It’ll be held up now. We’ll have to check the area in case there are any more bodies and that’ll screw up his schedule.’
Natalie shuddered involuntarily. ‘You reckon there are more bodies?’
‘Who knows? Could be a whole family out there.’
Neither spoke. The thought was sobering. They stood at the entrance to the centre, observing the arrival of more officers. It was going to be a long night and unless the rain ceased, the hunt for more bodies would be impossible. Mike patted the pockets of his coat, extracted a packet of cigarettes, tapped one out and offered it to Natalie.
She shook her head. ‘Given up.’
‘Really? Since when?’
A vision of the pair of them, sweaty and naked, swam in front of her eyes: plain white duvet on the floor, her legs draped over his muscular thighs, a cigarette between her lips, smoke curling to the ceiling. She’d given up smoking that afternoon – the same afternoon she’d sorted out her shit and promised herself she’d never be so fucking stupid as to cheat on her husband again. ‘A while back.’
He pulled a face. ‘Good for you. I wish I could. Costs me a sodding fortune, and with Nicole screaming for blood, I’ll soon be down to bumming from my colleagues or going cold turkey.’
‘She gone for good?’
Mike shrugged. ‘She’s taken the Volvo, all her and Thea’s belongings, and the dog. Go figure.’
‘You okay?’ Her concern was genuine. Mike adored his daughter.
He dragged on the cigarette. ‘I’ll survive. You know me.’
She did. She knew Mike very well. He was charming and confident and his eyes crinkled handsomely when he smiled. He was dangerous and cavalier, and he couldn’t hold down a relationship. It had been a surprise to both her and David when he’d announced he was going to marry Nicole. Mike had never seemed to be the marrying type. She opened her mouth to speak but he interrupted her by holding up a finger.
‘Before you ask, no, she didn’t leave me because she found out what happened between you and me. She never knew about that. She left me because I “can’t separate work life from real life”.’ He shoved the cigarette between his lips, then snorted. ‘Work life is fucking real life.’
Natalie was glad she wasn’t the reason for Nicole leaving Mike. The one-night stand they’d shared had been a crazy moment, brought about by booze and despair. David had been gambling again, in spite of his promises, and accrued online debts that had sideswiped her. She’d stood by him when he’d been made redundant and cajoled him into applying for job after job. She’d encouraged him to go it alone as a translator, and all the while, she’d made sure they were fed, that Josh could go on the school trip to Austria, that Leigh could take up drum lessons and that David’s ego was stroked. She’d understood he felt a failure but he wasn’t. However, when she’d discovered their joint bank account was in the red, and uncovered the truth about his online activity, she’d blown her top.
She should never have reached out to Mike, but he’d been in the office when she’d found out about David’s gambling, and asked her what was wrong, and she’d cracked. Later, they’d gone for a drink. Later still, she’d slipped between hotel sheets with him. Four months had passed since then and she didn’t intend on making the same mistake again.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, allowing the patter of the rain to fill the silence that now hung between them as more white vans drew up.
‘My lot,’ Mike said, approaching his crew, issuing loud instructions as Natalie made for her car. She’d gather her own team together for briefing back at the station. It was going to be a long night.
Three
TUESDAY, 25 APRIL – NIGHT
As well as being home to local officers, Samford Police Headquarters was one of only four investigative hubs across the county, with criminal investigation department, public protection and forensic staff from the north of Staffordshire all based at the new state-of-the-art building. The police station had been two years in construction, completed early in 2016, and was one of the reasons Natalie had been transferred from Kingsville, a more traditional station on the outskirts of Manchester. At least that’s what she liked to tell herself.
Truth be told, after the Olivia Chester fiasco, she couldn’t face her superiors or colleagues at Kingsville each morning. She could no longer look them in the eye and feel part of a team. So, when she’d learnt about the new headquarters, and heard they were recruiting new investigative squads, she’d requested a position on one. Living where they did, in Castergate, she could just as easily commute to Samford as Kingsville.
Her anxiety about working with officers hitherto unknown to her had proven unfounded. She’d slipped into the role of mentor and team leader as if it had been created for her, and she was more than pleased with the officers chosen to work alongside her, one of whom was standing near the front reception. She ought to have guessed Sergeant Lucy Carmichael would be one of the first to report for duty. The 28-year-old wore a perpetual look of irritation, accentuated by a deep scar across the bridge of her nose that spoiled her otherwise striking looks. With jet-black, short-cropped hair, bushy, strong eyebrows and what Natalie would describe as an ectomorphic body shape, Lucy oozed confidence; if spotted out of uniform, wearing her traditional garb of ripped T-shirt and leather trousers, she could be mistaken for a rock star. Lucy had attitude but she also had tenacity and courage. Natalie had spotted those qualities along with loyalty soon after the team had been formed. They’d hit it off quickly, and as she walked over to her younger colleague, she wasn’t surprised to see a shadow of sorrow etched on her features.
‘Shit,’ was all Lucy could offer.
‘I know.’
‘I hate it
when kids are involved.’
‘We all do, Lucy. It’s a sad fact that men, women and children die every day. Our job is to get answers and put aside those feelings.’ The response came from Sergeant Murray Anderson, three years older than Lucy, round-faced and sandy-haired.
‘Yeah. I don’t need the lecture, just a chance to get my head around it,’ replied Lucy.
Murray ignored the sharp retort. He and Lucy had known each other a number of years and had come from the same station in Stoke-on-Trent to be part of the new team at Samford. It had taken Natalie a while to work out the exact nature of their turbulent relationship, but it transpired they were no more than good friends. Murray was married to one of Lucy’s close friends – Yolande – who he’d met through Lucy, and whom he idolised.
‘What’ve we got?’ Murray asked Natalie.
‘Not a great deal. The body is en route to the pathology lab, and Forensics are still searching the immediate area in case they discover any more corpses, although weather and darkness are hampering efforts at the moment. I think they’ll abandon it soon and try again at first light. It’s too boggy in the field.’
The trio headed towards the briefing room at the end of the corridor and Natalie snapped on the lights as they trooped in. The cleaners had already been in – the whiteboard was smear-free, the oval table that could seat ten officers had been wiped down, and the entire room smelt of freshly squeezed lemons.
Natalie set up her laptop and clicked on the photographs of the body that had been sent through. Mike had ensured they’d reached her quickly. There were several, taken at different angles: the material with mud in its folds, the body unveiled, two legs out straight and arms folded across the chest, the skull with its grey skin-like parchments stretched fully and the little white teeth. When Josh’s first milk tooth had come loose, he’d wriggled it out in bed and not told Natalie. Instead, he’d hidden it under the pillow and been heartbroken when it had still been there in the morning. Natalie explained that he should have sung to the Tooth Fairy, and she made up a silly rhyme on the spot for him:
Tooth Fairy, Tooth Fairy, please come to me.
I want to sell you my tooth for a shiny penny.
That night, they’d sung it together and put the tooth back under the pillow, and the following morning, Josh had been excited to discover fifty pence in its place. After that, the song had to be sung every time he lost a tooth, and then she’d done the same for Leigh when she also began losing her baby teeth.
Natalie looked again at the photograph and was about to speak when the door clattered open and the last member of her team hurtled in, a takeaway cup of coffee in his hand.
‘For crying out loud,’ said Murray. ‘We’re all sitting here like lemons, waiting for you, and you stop off on the way to buy a fucking coffee.’
‘I was already in the coffee shop when I got the call,’ said PC Ian Jarvis. ‘Seemed a waste to leave it behind.’ He took a deliberate slurp of the drink. At twenty-three, he was the youngest on the team, and although good-natured, he managed to constantly rub Murray up with his slightly cheeky attitude. From the outset, there’d been antagonism between the men when they discovered they supported rival football teams: Murray was an ardent Stoke City fan whereas Ian was mad keen on West Bromwich Albion. It had resulted in some heated discussions. Natalie recognised something in the younger officer – a spark that would drive him on in his career: he was bright, dedicated and unflappable and he’d calm down in time. As for Murray, well, he’d have to get over whatever was eating at him.
‘Okay, everyone. Thanks for getting here so promptly. At five p.m. today a body was uncovered at Poppyfields, the new garden centre opening in Uptown.’ She twisted the laptop around so she could show the photographs of the body to the team. Murray winced. Lucy glared defiantly at the screen as if she could stare down the images.
‘The last few days, developers have been excavating land belonging to the centre for an expansion project. The project manager is Neil Linton, and it was his foreman, Tony Mellows, who rang the police when the body was discovered. Both men were on-site at the time of the discovery of the body.
‘There is no doubt that the remains are human: sex unknown, a child aged between four and seven. The cadaver is in a state of decomposition but was wrapped in material that has helped preserve it to some extent. To that end, long blonde strands of hair are visibly attached to the scalp and might indicate the child was a girl although we could equally be looking at a little boy. We’re waiting for confirmation from the pathologist and Forensics. Mike’s heading up the forensic team and Naomi is the forensic anthropologist working on this investigation. In the meantime, we need to jog things along and look into any missing children cases from the last few years. Drag up all MisPer files.’
Murray scrawled on his notepad, lips pressed tightly together. All the while, his left knee bounced – a nervous habit.
Natalie continued, ‘Ben Hargreaves is the pathologist on this case. Anyone know him?’
Lucy shook her head. ‘He’s a newbie. Came in a couple of weeks ago. Met him in the canteen. Seemed a bit stand-offish.’
‘He’s okay,’ said Ian. ‘He just needs time to adjust, get to know everyone.’
‘You spoken to him?’
‘Yeah. We chatted. He supports West Bromwich Albion too.’
Natalie nodded appreciatively. It was always good when they established a rapport with Forensics or the pathologists. It helped to speed up investigations.
‘We’ve no idea how the child died. It might be natural causes. It’s too soon to make that call. Ben didn’t spot anything that raised red flags. However, I’d like to run a background check on Neil Linton.’ Natalie ignored Ian’s sudden raised eyebrows. She’d learnt to her cost that those who seemed to be the most helpful during an investigation were sometimes responsible for the crime. ‘Neil’s men might have found the body, but he was the one hanging around the place in the dark, awaiting further information, until we insisted he go home.’
‘Surely, if he knew about the death of this child, he wouldn’t have got involved in the extension project? He’d want to distance himself from it,’ Ian said.
‘That’s actually a very good reason to become involved,’ said Murray, arms folded. ‘If he was on-site, he’d know if the body was discovered. He might even assume, by being there, he’d put himself out of the frame.’
‘That’s my reasoning too,’ said Natalie. ‘However, priority is to establish who this child is. Once we’ve done that, we’ll require the pathology report and set about working out what happened and talking to parents. Any questions?’ When there were none, she dismissed them and headed upstairs to see if Mike’s team had begun work.
Mike wasn’t in the lab but Naomi Singh was. Stood over a pristine white desk, she was currently examining photographs of the child in question, the same photographs Natalie had received. She drew herself up to her full five foot three inches and let out a soft sigh. Her eyes, the colour of polished conkers, were full of sadness.
‘There are 206 bones in the adult body. A child has more – up to 300, depending on their age, until the bones begin to fuse.’
‘Ben thinks the child is between four and seven years old.’
‘Then there’ll be approximately 213 bones.’ Naomi shook her head slowly from side to side. ‘I have to wait for the pathologist to finish examining the body. Meanwhile, I’ll take a look at the blanket or whatever it was wrapped in.’
‘I didn’t come to pressure you. I only dropped by to get your initial thoughts.’
‘Whatever was wrapped around the body has helped protect it from insects and scavengers,’ said Naomi, her eyes again on the photographs. ‘We ought to be able to get some results from the strands of hair attached to the scalp and from the teeth to help with identification.’
‘Sure. Mike around?’ Natalie kept her tone light.
‘He’s staying on-site for a while in case they find anything else. Anything I can he
lp you with?’
Natalie gave her a brief smile in response. ‘Just let me know as soon as you have something.’
‘You know I will.’ She returned to the photographs, eyes screwed in concentration, Natalie already forgotten.
Natalie joined the others in their glass-fronted office, accessed from the second-floor corridor, outside which stood a crescent-shaped, multicoloured, six-person settee. None of them understood the reason for it being there.
‘Who’s going to sit on that? It’s in the middle of a busy corridor, for fuck’s sake,’ Murray had grumbled when it had first arrived. Since then, it had become part of the landscape they looked out upon daily, and they no longer discussed it even though it had never been used.
Full-length, double-glazed windows, that overlooked the main road but maintained the occupants’ privacy, took up the far side of the office. No need for blinds or window coverings in this modern building. Natalie still found it odd that she could watch the traffic snaking past but none of the occupants of the vehicles would be able to see what was going on inside. The structure was so futuristic in design that drivers would often crane their necks and stare at it while stuck in a jam, oblivious to the officers observing them. The walls had been painted a soft grey, not that much of it was visible, hidden as it was behind tall metal cabinets and shelves of box files. There were two silver-grey tables facing each other, each with four ergonomic chairs, and a third smaller desk with two chairs, set at an adjacent angle. Natalie placed her laptop on the smaller desk, where she usually worked, although nobody had a special place in the room. This was modern policing – they had to be flexible and not mark out a personal territory.
Ian was next to Lucy, both working on individual laptops, while Murray was trawling through cases using the larger fixed computers on the opposite bench. No sooner had Natalie lifted the lid on her own laptop than Murray spoke up.
