The rain and wind had eased, and the birds had started singing in a dawn chorus that helped lift the solemn moods of the officers. Her colleagues knew it wouldn’t be long before they would be relieved by the day shift and could head home to their families; and the relief showed.
‘Hey, Kev, it’s me. The body’s out and on the way to Sunderland Royal. Carla’s accompanying. Johnny and I will finish up here and get back to the nick as soon as we’re done. I’ll ring you when I land,’ said Cass as her boss answered her call.
‘No probs, that’s brill. Thanks, Cass. Just spoke to Jason, he was called to a stabbing a couple of hours ago, so I’ll head up the PM. I’ve already spoken to dispatch and they’re going to assign any minor jobs for the Volume Crime Team to deal with. They’ll let us know if anything major comes in.’
‘Great, that’ll take a little off the load of the day shift. Dispatch said there are already five jobs on the command log. I’ll speak to Deena and Faith about the vehicle when they get in.’
After ending the call, Cass watched as the others manoeuvred the black sack containing the young woman’s body onto the stretcher and into the private ambulance operated by the on-call undertakers. As they both jumped out of the black van, Carla said, ‘Anything else you need me to do once I’m done at the mortuary?’
Cass thought for a moment, before shaking her head. ‘Get yourself off when you’re done with your Socard entry.’ All the CSIs were more than familiar with the database used to record any evidence and notes from a scene, and she knew whomever put in the first entry would let the others know the unique identification code allocated to the job. She gave a curt wave as the coroner’s van made its way back up the hill and disappeared over the brow.
Alex looked up from his computer as Cass and Johnny entered the lounge, gave her a quick nod and turned back to his work, his long fingers tapping incessantly on the keyboard. She glanced over at Johnny, taking in the dark rings round his eyes and his pasty skin. He’d been in the job for five years, coming straight into the force from finishing his university degree. Cass had worked with him on several occasions now; with staffing issues the ever-present problem, staff often had to cover for one another when there were shortages. Cass knew better than to ask if something was wrong, though. He had been up since goodness knew what time at a crime scene. It was enough of an explanation for dark rings and pasty skin. She probably didn’t look that great herself.
She glanced up as the officer nominated as scene loggist entered the lounge and headed towards her.
‘SL Motorbods is here. Shall I let them through the cordon?’
Cass nodded before standing and following the officer out of the lounge. Johnny took a swift gulp of his now-cold coffee and caught the lounge door before it shut, jumping down the low step.
Eddie Conlon waited just outside his truck cab, the blue and white insignia shining brightly in the dawn light. Short in height anyway, he looked even smaller standing next to the large machine. His ever-present Bluetooth headset seemed glued to his ear. Cass didn’t remember a time she’d ever seen him without the portable device. He grinned widely as he saw her, large creases spreading through his well-weathered skin. ‘Hey, Cass. How’re things? Been a while since you visited for a coffee. You forgot your friend Eddie already?’
Cass smiled back at him warmly. ‘Forget you, Eddie? Not possible. Just been busy. How’s Elise and the baby doing?’ She was glad he had picked up the call. Of the three companies the force employed to do forensic pickups, Eddie’s was by far the best.
A look of pure pride washed over his tanned cheeks. ‘Elise is more beautiful than ever and my boy’s a little prince. He sleeps right through now, hardly ever cries.’
Cass grinned at him again. ‘That’s great. You need a different job, though, something that doesn’t call you out at all hours of the night.’
Eddie shook his head. ‘You know I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do this job, Cass.’ Becoming more solemn, he added, ‘Heck of a hill, Burley Bank. I’ll meet you at the bottom?’
She nodded, before turning and walking down the hill.
It seemed like only moments later that Eddie was heading round the bend at the bottom and out of sight, the crushed and mangled vehicle safely hidden behind the blue tarpaulin walls of his truck.
Cass stood back as Johnny took a new set of photographs of the scene now the vehicle had been removed. Crash remnants were scattered over the grassed knoll in front of the tree. The trunk was surprisingly still intact, though the outer bark showed damage and paint transfer. It almost looked as if the tree were crying bloodied tears through the cuts in its roughened skin. Johnny methodically placed markers at prudent sites around the crash scene, carefully taking long and short shots of all the visible evidence.
They couldn’t start recovering anything without the images being taken first. The defence were sticklers when it came to evidence being able to be replaced in the exact same position it had been retrieved from, and it was becoming more frequent that solicitors were looking at what hadn’t been done properly at a scene as opposed to what had.
Cass paused in her examination and said ‘Johnny, what do you think of this?’ as she motioned with her hand towards a rectangular indentation in the grass.
Johnny straightened and glanced over. ‘A bag, or a case maybe? Looks heavy, judging by the depth. It’s probably something the paramedics put down.’
Cass nodded thoughtfully as Johnny turned back round. She pulled a tape measure from one of the many pockets on her sleeveless utility jacket, and quickly measured the outline. ‘Twenty-eight inches by sixteen. Strange.’
They had been processing the scene for almost an hour and were just finishing when Alex came down the hill. ‘Have we got anything? The search team are here to do their bit.’
Cass shook her head. ‘Nothing of value. We got a couple of cigarette butts but they’re old and aren’t likely connected. Nothing else for DNA. No footwear marks coz of the grass – there’re indentations but no tread detail so they’re useless. The best we can get from them is an approximate size. We’ve taken a paint sample from the tree bark, but it’s pretty obvious it belongs to the victim’s car. There are no tyre tracks, no other trace evidence, and no scope for any kind of fingerprint examination. I think we’re pretty much done, to be honest. Let the team have their look, but I don’t think they’ll find anything.’
Alex sighed. ‘Can you make sure Deena and Faith update me as soon as they’ve completed the vehicle examination?’
Cass nodded as Alex turned and headed back to the lounge. ‘Think that’s us finished, Johnny. Get yourself back to the nick. Just put your notes through Socard and get yourself off. I’ll check in with you later.’
Hill Overlooking Burley Bank
He stood, his form obscured by a large tree in the wooded area at the top of the steep hill and looked down over the scene of the crash.
He had maintained his position all night, watching the investigation unfold beneath him. They had been most helpful, putting up lights so he could see them moving around – so far away they looked like ants. He couldn’t see who they were, but he knew who mattered.
The news crew had been hovering not too far from the fleet of police vehicles, their ever-hungry microphones sniffing the air wildly for their story. He would pick up a paper or two on the way home; a murder always made the front page.
He took in the comings and goings, noting with interest the arrival of the large truck that took the woman’s car away. He couldn’t see the logos from his position, but he saw the colours. He would have a look on the Internet when he got home. There couldn’t be that many companies that specialised in uplifting crash cars from a murder scene. It was paranoia that made him careful. If he found the company, he could double-check he hadn’t left anything in the vehicle. Which naturally he knew he hadn’t.
But as it paid to be prepared, it also paid to be cautious.
He checked the area around him carefully, making
sure he hadn’t forgot anything, and headed through the wooded area to where he had parked his car. He was tired now; it had been a long night. He was looking forward to a satisfying sleep, one which he hoped would clear his mind. He knew he needed to lay low for a while, and he knew he would use this time to plan his next show.
He liked comparing what he did to a show. Or maybe a sequel. Either way, it would be spectacular.
Chapter Three
Ryhope Police Station
Danny White was annoyed. He glared at himself in the large mirror on the rest room wall, taking deep breaths to calm his temper, as his troubled brown eyes stared back.
His ex-wife had some nerve, ringing him randomly and ignoring him when he’d told her he was at a scene. He’d made the mistake of telling her his job was up for review, thanks to the government cuts. Granted, he was pissed at the time; but that was no excuse. She’d left it two whole weeks, just long enough for him to believe she wouldn’t make an issue of it, before ringing him to discuss his child maintenance payments. He hadn’t even lost his job yet and she was already demanding to know how much he’d be paying towards their two girls. He had no intention of not paying maintenance: his girls were all he worked for.
But she spoke as if money was the only thing that mattered. She’d been talking of upping sticks and taking the girls with her, all because of the new man she’d met: a solicitor, of all things. She wanted to take his girls to the other end of the country, and she was the one screaming at him down the phone while he was working.
He’d felt like a complete prick in front of his team – he couldn’t get a word in edgeways through her damned ranting. He’d finally pulled the phone from his ear just as she’d slammed the receiver down.
He had his meeting with Human Resources (HR) later that afternoon when he would be told whether he was at risk of being finished, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He knew no one else was, either. There used to be a time when the police force was a job for life, a family. Now he felt like nothing more than a number in the lottery of politics.
First, though, he had to update the boss. He sighed deeply, feeling his anger dissipate as he wished he had more to report. Quickly he splashed his face, patted it dry, and strode towards the Major Incident Room.
The door to the office slammed shut and Alex looked up. He sighed as the sergeant of the search team entered the expansive room and purposefully strode towards him. The weedy-looking sergeant didn’t look the type to manage himself, let alone the staff he had under him as a search team. His floppy hair gave him an almost cartoon look, and he was almost short enough to be comical, but Alex had worked with him before. He knew Danny White ran the best team in the department.
‘Alex,’ said Danny, pulling up a chair and sitting down quickly, ‘In all honesty, I’ve never seen such a clean murder. The team haven’t found anything that could prove useful. Here’s the report.’ He handed Alex a couple of sheets of paper.
‘It’s OK, Danny, it happens. We’re waiting on forensics from the vehicle. Hopefully that will bring something to the forefront.’
Danny nodded, before jumping to his feet and leaving the office as quickly as he had arrived.
Alex rubbed his tired eyes, longing for the bed he knew was a way off yet. There were days when he thought he was too old for this job, and this was one of them. At thirty-seven, he was hardly past his prime; but long shifts, lack of sleep, and the cases he worked sometimes took their toll.
He glanced at the photo on his untidy desk, taking a moment to allow the smiling faces to bring him a feeling of calm. He missed his family. They all still lived in Edinburgh, except him. In the photo, his mum had her arm around his waist, smiling up proudly at her son. His five brothers and two sisters all stood around them, white teeth showing in their wide grins. He was the eldest of the family. The photo had been taken on the day of his graduation from probationer to police officer. His then fiancée, Helen, was also in the photo. Alex had moved to Sunderland with Helen just after the photo had been taken. It was where her family came from; and not aware at the time of how many marriages involving police officers fail, they’d swiftly fallen into the trap. Sure enough, his now ex-wife had eventually got sick of the endless work calls, the overtime without notice, and never having him there. They hadn’t got around to having kids, so the break-up had been swift; but painful for both of them. Helen couldn’t speak to him now without trying to start an argument. Nowadays, she only ever phoned when she wanted something.
Alex shook his head, wondering where this sudden pang of emotion had come from. He forced his thoughts to the back of his mind and looked again at his desk. It resembled the scene of a ransacking, with paper strewn everywhere. He was a tidy person by nature and this stage of the investigation had always bugged him. He was busy organising the information to hand over to the department’s document reader.
He’d just finished giving his first briefing to the day-shift staff after returning from the scene at around 8.30 a.m. The various sergeants had been allocated the numerous tasks required. He had once been one of those sergeants and didn’t envy them the job of rushing about all over and getting what they needed. He pulled out his Policy Book, essentially his job bible, from under an overhang on the mountainous pile of papers and jotted down his updates on the briefings.
He glanced at the clock and cursed under his breath. He hated the clock on the office wall, the same as everyone else, he guessed. It taunted him with its ticks and tocks, always stealing time away when he was busy and adding time on when the job was slow. It read 10.30 a.m. and he knew the post-mortem was booked in for 1.30 p.m. which was a whole three hours away. It wasn’t a necessary part of his job to attend, but he always did. With any murder comes a feeling of attachment to the body, a feeling of obligation to find out the truth about what happened. It made him want to come to work and do his job. And at times like this, when he was sleep deprived and his head felt as if it would explode, the feeling made him stay to ensure he was doing the best he could for the victim, in this case Susan Mackintosh.
He frowned; he had just read the interim report from the Family Liaison Officer, which indicated strongly that Brian Mackintosh, Susan’s husband, had not been the one who murdered her. Susan’s mother had vouched for his alibi; that one of the children was ill and he had been up most of the night seeing to the child while his mother-in-law had taken care of tidying up and putting the youngest child to bed before watching TV on the couch with him. The DC he had nominated to look into Susan’s lifestyle would tell him soon enough if there were any problems in their marriage, or any other skeletons in Susan’s closet. But thus far, it was looking decidedly like the husband wasn’t involved.
Which obviously begged the question: who had killed Susan, and why?
Suddenly his stomach grumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime. Over the years he had learnt that eating before a post-mortem was the best thing. For some reason, if he didn’t, he always craved pizza afterwards. And pizza meant extra hours in the gym.
He grabbed his wallet and mobile from the desk drawer, checking that he had some cash, and then pulled a set of keys off the unmarked car rack before heading to the MIT office. Making a beeline for Laura, the document reader, he said, ‘Get this onto HOLMES as quick as you can. It’s for the Mackintosh murder. If anyone needs me, I’ll be at the mortuary.’
Not intending to seem rude, he paused as he turned and added a thank you.
Cass glanced at the clock in the corner of the computer screen and pushed back her chair, stretching in an effort to un-kink her back. She had managed to log the exhibits through Socard, had transferred her scene notes, checked the notes done by Carla and Johnny and printed off the photo thumbnails she knew she’d need. She was just about to get up when the phone rang.
‘Cass, it’s Kevin. Johnny’s going to finish his nine hours then go home instead of claiming the overtime. Carla’s due back in at 2 p.m. so we shouldn’t be too short-staffed
. How’s it going your end?’
‘Not too bad. You got a pen? The Socard reference, in case you don’t have it is SEP1532/13. I’ve already printed off Johnny and Carla’s scene notes as well as the image thumbnails for the file. Johnny tell you there wasn’t a lot of evidence?’
‘Yeah, he mentioned it. Hopefully Deena and Faith will get something from the car. You haven’t forgot the meeting with the dreaded Hartside tomorrow, have you?’ Cass could almost see Kevin grimace down the phone at speaking the name of the Crime Department’s Detective Inspector.
‘No, I’ve not forgot. Not looking forward to hearing how the proposed cuts are going to affect us, like, but I shall be there, nonetheless. I’m gonna brief Deena and Faith when they come in. Can you manage if I sneak home for a few hours shut-eye?’
‘Yeah sure, Cass. You’re on backs tonight, right?’
‘Yeah I should still be in for 5 p.m. though. Fred’s on tonight too. Who’s covering central?’
‘Penelope, but only until 10.30 p.m. – she has an early appointment with Occ Health tomorrow. You and Fred will be on your own until finishing but I’m sure you guys can manage.’
‘Yeah, that’s fine, Kev. Right, I’m gonna go put the kettle on for the girls. I’ll speak to you later this afternoon.’
Cass busied herself in the small kitchen, quickly brewing the new blend she’d picked up from Starbucks the day before, and by the time Deena and Faith walked through the door it was already poured into cups for them.
With Deadly Intent Page 3
