Simon was nodding at her. “It’s alright, I know what you mean. Anyway, the victim. I expect you saw there was no head. The hands are missing. They’ve been hacked off – violently and inexpertly – possibly with something heavy and sharp: a machete, an axe, that sort of thing. But not here. There would have been blood everywhere, bone fragments – all manner of evidence. No, he was brought here, the parts of him that we have at any rate. Apart from that, there isn’t all that much I can tell you until I have a proper look, back at the morgue. He’s been dead a few days, I’ll be able to be more precise when I’ve examined the development of insect larvae and so on. I’ll be able to get to him in the morning, I hope. I’ll start early. Will you come down?”
“Yes, I will,” Tanya said.
“About seven then. The reception staff won’t be there. I’ll buzz you in if you text when you reach the car park.”
He shook her hand again. “Welcome back, Detective Inspector, we’ve missed you.”
Again, she felt herself blush. Stop it, he’s just being nice.
He walked out of the car park, along the safe route towards his car.
There was nothing else to be done there. The fingertip search would be postponed until the morning. It was dark, and wet, and cold; nothing to see. The SOCO team would continue their work in the hut. Once the body was moved, which would hopefully be in the next few hours, they too would leave. This wasn’t where the murder had taken place and although there would be evidence it wouldn’t tell them much. They needed to find the original site. That would be a major challenge.
The recordings from the CCTV were being downloaded onto flash drives. She left Paul Harris waiting for them while she drove home through a wet and windy night. She would have a shower, a glass of wine and then start her notes – ready to speak to her team early in the morning.
The house was in darkness, so the chaos in the kitchen was all the more shocking, revealed as it was in the sudden glare as she turned on the lights.
Chapter 7
Tanya thundered up the stairs, thumped once on the door of the guestroom, and threw it open. She flicked on the overhead light and stormed across the littered floor to the bed where Serena was pushing herself up against the pillows, hands shielding her eyes from the sudden brightness.
“Aunty Tan,” she muttered. “What the hell?”
“Get up. Come on, get up,” Tanya said. “Get out of bed and come downstairs.”
“Oh shit. Look I’ll clean it up in the morning, I promise.” Serena licked her dry lips and reached for the bottle of water standing on the bedside table. “Oh God. My head’s splitting, I can’t do this now.” She turned away and began to slide down back under the duvet.
“Oh no! No, you don’t!”
Tanya grabbed the corner of the covers and pulled them to the floor. “Get up now. Go downstairs and clean up that mess in the kitchen. Then you and me are having words. How dare you? How dare you take my drink, my food without permission, and leave my home in that state? How dare you? You spoiled, ungrateful sod.”
“I was bored, I had some friends over. What? Did you expect me to give them water to drink, no snacks? Anyway, it wasn’t all your food, they brought pizza with them. We just had some beers, some wine. Chill, yeah. It’s cool. I’ll replace it, I’ll order some online tomorrow. No problem. Your cleaner can come in an extra day, I’ll pay her.”
Tanya was furious. She looked down at the teenager and felt absolute disgust. How could it be that Fiona, who had grown up in a house where every penny was counted, had raised such a thoughtless, self-entitled child? But of course, Fiona herself had been the selfish, demanding sister. She was the one for whom the money was somehow always found to fulfil her wants and desires. So, this was the result.
Tanya had thought that Serena was grateful to be there; that she appreciated her aunt sacrificing her precious privacy. How could that be when she had trashed the kitchen, helped herself to wine from the rack and then walked away expecting someone else to clean up after her?
“I can’t do this anymore, Serena. I know I said that I’d help you, support you, but this is no good. You’ll have to go home. I’m back in work now. I have to be able to give everything to my job. I can’t have this crap.”
“Aunty Tan, you’re getting this out of proportion. Okay, I’m sorry I made a mess. We were having a good time, that’s all. I was on my own, rang a couple of friends and we had a laugh. I suppose I could have cleaned up but honestly, I was wasted. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Tanya closed her eyes and shook her head as another thought pushed aside the fury. “Who were these people anyway? How come you have friends here? You’ve never lived in Oxford”
“Mates from Edinburgh, down here visiting the university. I met up with them the other day and then – well, I just rang them. Look, I really feel awful. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
Tanya bit back the first response – swearing wouldn’t help. Struggling with control she clenched her hands into fists. Only fight the battles you can win. She knew that was a good rule to live by, and she had work to do, important work. Tomorrow though, tomorrow this girl was going to scrub the kitchen end to end, pay for the wine that she had drunk and then, if Fiona didn’t get it sorted, Tanya herself was going to arrange travel for Serena back to Scotland.
Chapter 8
Tanya was deeply asleep. She had worked late, organising her plans, starting the murder book – albeit on her laptop – with locations, images and the names and contact details of everyone they had interviewed. She knew that Kate would already have all of this, but needed her own copy, arranged in her own way.
It was just becoming dawn, grey light brightening the window blind, when her phone began to vibrate across the top of the bedside cabinet, startling her awake. She grabbed the handset and held it in front of her face. Simon Hewitt’s ID filled the screen. She coughed. “Dr Hewitt, good morning.”
“Good morning, Detective Inspector. Sorry it’s so early. I told control that I would ring you myself to save time.”
“Right, I didn’t realise…” Tanya turned the alarm clock towards her. It was six thirty. “I thought you said seven. Sorry, I won’t be long. I’ll be with you soon as I can,” she said.
“It’s okay. I’m not calling from the morgue. I’m out in the cold, wet morning.” He laughed quietly. “It seems that we may have found our head.”
“Head?” In her befuddled state, she struggled to catch up with the conversation.
“Yes, a fisherman out at Duke’s Cut. Do you know it?”
“No, I don’t think so.” She twisted out from under the covers and squirmed out of her T-shirt. Dragging it over her shoulders, she passed the phone from hand to hand through the sleeves, hoping he couldn’t hear the rustle of fabric.
“It’s a fishing lake, not all that far from the golf club. I’m there now. This poor angler came out looking for some bream or roach and bagged himself a sack full of body parts instead. I was called because of yesterday. I thought you’d want to have a look before we move it.”
“Thanks, yes. Thank you. I’ll be with you as quickly as I can.”
She clicked off the phone, dragged on her jeans and sweater, and ran through to the loo. She dashed down the stairs and fished her boots out from under the hall chair. She turned towards the kitchen and was hit full in the face by the mess.
She tore a page from the shopping pad and scrawled across it in black marker. ‘Clean this up, Serena. I’ll call you later. Don’t go out.’ That done she grabbed her jacket, car keys and sat nav, and slammed the door behind her.
She had Kate on speed dial. Once she’d set up the hands-free, she gave her a quick rundown of the situation. “I need you to arrange for divers. They should meet me out at the lake. Call Detective Chief Inspector Scunthorpe, he’ll have to approve the expenditure. What time are the team coming in?”
“In at eight and briefing at half past nine. I was allowing time for you to attend the post-morte
m examination,” Kate said.
“Right – well that’s going to be delayed now, I guess. Look, I’ll ring you from the lake.”
“Yes, ma’am. Oh, we’ve got a name – Operation Rambler.”
“Noted. Thanks, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
She set the sat nav, pulled into the main road and with a quick glance in the rear-view mirror at her little house, the light still burning in the bedroom window, she left the problems of Serena and her friends behind.
Chapter 9
The drizzling rain had become a downpour by the time she arrived at Duke’s Cut. Tanya flashed her ID at the officer stationed in front of the dilapidated metal gate. He noted her name on his form. “Park at the end of this road, Ma’am, you’ll see the others.”
Splashing and jolting down a narrow track, she joined the conglomeration of official vehicles sitting in the puddled mud of the small car park. She changed into her wellingtons, which were always in the car boot these days. Too many pairs of ruined shoes and wet feet had taught her valuable lessons. Once she had dragged on protective gear, and the disposable booties onto her feet, she grabbed her little recorder and went to see what horror was waiting in this quiet, picturesque spot.
The usual controlled hubbub was subdued by drenching rain. It was turning into a very wet month and it was really the last thing they needed. Uniformed constables skulked under trees waiting for the inevitable instructions that would see them trudging through muck and mud in a search which would more than likely turn up nothing. The big find had already happened, but the uncomfortable drudgery that was part and parcel of the job would still need to be done. She acknowledged them as she passed and received a few desultory nods in response.
The white suits of the scene of crime investigators, moving between the vans and the centre of attention, were turned just a little translucent by the rain. Already water was dripping into Tanya’s eyes from the tendrils of hair poking out from under the edge of the hood. She raised a hand and tucked the sopping strands more neatly inside. The only people not cursing the weather were the little group of three divers unloading gear from the back of a van – they were already in wetsuits, and in their element. They had arrived very quickly. Again, she was impressed by Kate’s efficiency.
The location of a blue plastic igloo drew Tanya towards the edge of the water. A few metres away a rod leaned against a tree where a dejected figure sat on top of a plastic box, his head lowered, elbows resting on his knees.
Inside the tent, Simon Hewitt, a photographer, and an assistant making notes, crouched in a small huddle around a dark shape that had been pulled onto the bank. Strands of slimy waterweed shone in the beam of floodlights, making the whole scene surreal and artificial looking. The fishing hook was still attached to the object and a length of line lay across the grass.
As Tanya joined the group around the sack, Simon Hewitt raised his head and nodded. Tanya gave a small wave and lowered herself onto her haunches.
“Poor chap over there opened the bag,” Simon told her. He pointed towards the figure under the tree. “We haven’t done much to it. Thought we’d wait for you to see it in location, though I’m not sure how much that will help. I see you arranged for an underwater team.”
“Yes, I don’t suppose there is much more for us to find now, but you never know. We don’t have any weapon, yet,” Tanya said.
“Well, we’ll get on with this. Have you finished with your pictures?” Simon looked up at the photographer.
“Got everything I need, I reckon,” she said. “I’ll video this bit.”
There wasn’t much to see and what there was didn’t look like anything human. The head, still partly obscured by wet canvas, was the palest white. Strands of dark hair were glued flat to the dome of the skull by water and slime. The fisherman had obviously realised quickly what his haul was and had stayed his hand once the neck of the sack exposed its grisly contents. Consequently, the opening was only rolled down to just above the brows. Tanya was glad. She would see it eventually, but later, in the clean surroundings of the autopsy suite. It wouldn’t be so horrific then. She knew that the eyes would probably be gone by now. Even though the ghastly thing had been inside the bag, small creatures would have gained access and there was evidence that rats had given it their attention.
“It can’t have been very far in.” Tanya pointed to the small holes.
“No, apparently there is an area of shallow water just beyond the bank, where it’s silted up. This must have been caught there just under the surface. If it had been thrown into the main lake it might never have surfaced. Perhaps whoever it was didn’t know the area, or maybe they just didn’t want to stray too far from the car park,” Simon replied.
“Yes, it would be hard going in the dark. According to information Constable Lewis sent me while I was driving here, the place is quite popular in the daytime with fishermen, birdwatchers and what have you. Especially at the weekend. So, my thinking right now is that whoever disposed of this came at night. Thanks, Simon. Shall I see you back at the morgue?”
She paused and looked down at the heap on the ground. “I suppose this is our head? The chances of a head in one place and a completely different body so nearby are pretty remote, aren’t they? Are the hands there?”
“Well, we’ll get this back and then we can have a closer look and we’ll know for sure.” As he spoke, Simon nodded to the assistant who moved closer and unfolded a large evidence bag.
“From what I’ve been able to observe, there is more than just the head. Do you see?” Simon pointed with a gloved finger towards the bottom of the sack where the canvas bulged again. “There is something there, of course, I can’t know for sure, but I think it’s very possible.”
He directed his next comment to the technician. “No need to worry too much about the area around it, the fisherman just dropped it there. Just the stuff from directly underneath in case anything has seeped or fallen from the sack.”
He turned back to Tanya. “Give me another couple of hours and then I’ll meet you back at my place.”
“What time did you get the call?” she asked.
“An hour or so ago. I don’t live far away, so we’ve been enjoying this lovely weather, haven’t we?” He stood and now turned to address the others on the scene.
“Yeah, great start to the week,” one of the women grumbled.
Simon laid a hand on her shoulder. “Oh well, Sandy, look at it this way, things can only improve.” He handed a vial of samples to her.
She bent to place it in a plastic crate along with several others. “Yeah, and I’ve heard that before,” she said.
Tanya left them and walked out into the rain to have a chat with the witness who was now pouring himself a hot drink from his thermos. The thought of coffee was enticing, and she wondered what the chances of him offering her a cup would be. In the event, he didn’t.
Chapter 10
Ana sat on the steps of the caravan and lit a cigarette. The rain had ceased now, and although it was cold and damp, she would rather be outside. She glanced around and for a moment her eyes filled with tears. She brushed them aside impatiently. There was no point in tears, regret, sadness. No point at all. It had never made any difference. But now she was very lonely, she had another reason to cry.
From her perch in the little doorway, she could see, across the fields, the red-tiled roofs of houses. She had never been closer to them, but she could tell that they were large. In magazines, she had seen pictures of the houses in the UK. Gardens filled with roses, long driveways with shrubs and trees, garages containing shiny cars. Swimming pools, blue tiled, with clear water sparkling in the sunshine. Garden parties, barbecues. She had known that much of it was never going to be hers, but she had thought that some of it – maybe a small house, a little patch of green grass, a gate and a path – could have been hers.
She had been a fool.
She was still a fool, and now she was a lonely fool. She could have gone w
ith the others; they had begged her to. She wondered where they were. Scotland or Wales maybe. London. Probably they had gone to London. They might be standing right now looking at Buckingham Palace. She imagined Elian and his crooked grin; how he would love the soldiers and the horses. Dani was kinder than she was – if she had made a run for it, she wouldn’t have taken the idiot with her – but she hoped they were okay, that they were having fun; both of them. She’d been too much of a coward, but Dani had shrugged the threats aside. “It’s nothing. He will do nothing,” she’d said.
Ana sniffed, stubbed out the cigarette and turned her head. From inside the nasty tin caravan, she could hear Emilia coughing. She needed medicine. When the man came, she would ask him again to bring medicine.
She clambered back into the dark little space and began to straighten and tidy her bed. She wondered how long it would be before another woman arrived to occupy what had been Dani’s. Maybe never, maybe they could have this extra space. It was a little luxury, just her and Emi. The other woman was under the covers. Ana poured a cup of coffee, holding it out to her. “You need to get up, it’s time to go to work. The man will be here soon. He’ll be mad if we make him wait. You’ll feel better when you get up. You’ll be better when you have something to do. Come on.”
The other woman took the cup, nodded her thanks, but lost herself in another paroxysm of coughing. She looked pale and sick. Maybe they would let her stay in bed today. Maybe she would die, maybe it would be better for her if she did. Death could solve so many problems. Ana turned away and pulled some jeans and a shirt from the pile of clothes on the floor. What was she, Emi’s mother? The woman was old enough to look after herself. She had children back at home; she knew about illness.
Dragging on a nylon jacket, she poured the last of the coffee into a mug and went outside to wait for the man. She also was better when there was something to do. Something to fill the spaces in her mind that otherwise let in the sadness and the anger.
Brutal Pursuit Page 3
