As she entered the sleepy village, she slowed the speed of her Mini Clubman until she got to the family home. Located on the edge of the village, she lived in a three bedroomed detached house with a two bedroomed granny annex over the garages, which she owned with her father. As she pulled up in front of their home, he opened the door.
‘Thought that was you,’ he called. ‘How’s it going?’
Himself a retired DI, her father was always interested in her cases and he’d want to know about the new one. She’d told him she had a new case when he’d rung earlier in the day to talk to her about a family get-together he wanted her to attend.
‘Slowly, Dad,’ Jo said. ‘Give me 10 then come over. I’ll put the kettle on.’
Mick Wolfe gave Jo a thumbs up and she climbed the stairs to her flat above the garage block. To some it might be a topsy-turvy arrangement, dad in the house and her in the granny annex, but it was a neat, flipped pact that suited them both. Her siblings could come and go, visiting dad and leaving Jo in peace when she was on a case, or just hating the world and needing to shut herself away.
She quickly changed into sweats and put the kettle on. She heard her father’s footsteps on the stairs just as she was pinning photographs of the mummified body onto her wall, which would replicate the one in her office as the investigation progressed.
Her father was studying the pictures as she made the tea and then gave him a mug.
‘What do you think?’ she asked.
‘Bloody interesting.’
‘I thought you’d say that.’
‘Have you had a chance to be with the body yet?’
‘No. It won’t be until after the post-mortem tomorrow.’
Jo rubbed her temples yet again. She was losing her battle with the headache.
She watched Mick study the photos. He was dressed in sweats, as she was, with his black hair gathering grey ones at a rapid pace, and his face alive with wrinkles. She always teased that he was a dinosaur. An old-school detective, who’d joined the police force before the days of computerised records, in the year dot. Jo was part of the new generation attracted to the police force. She went to university obtaining a degree in criminology and forensic psychology, and after a couple of years working, she then joined the service via the Police Now programme and became a detective. She was the only one of his three children that had followed their father into the service. Together they were a mix of the old and the new. He was her go-to guy when she was stressed, obsessed or stuck on a case.
But, of course, no one could know she was sharing her cases with him.
Nor about her unique gift.
It was their secret and she intended to keep it that way.
3
Jo’s priority the next morning was the post-mortem of the mummified body and Jo and Eddie were at the mortuary at Chichester General Hospital in plenty of time, both in their usual work attire of a dark suit. Jo always wore trousers and most of the time flat shoes or trainers. She viewed any other clothing or footwear as impractical for her job. Neither did she carry a handbag, using pockets for her badge, notebook and keys.
They watched from the observation deck as Jeremy Grogan started. Dressed in scrubs with gloved hands, an apron on and a cap over his blond hair, he dictated what he saw before him; a body wrapped in bandages taken out of a muddy grave yesterday. The first thing he’d done was an x-ray of the whole mummy. That had indicated there was indeed a body under the bandages, but nothing else that could help them, such as a knife or a gun. Neither were there any bullets in any part of the body.
Tendrils of bandage sprouted from various parts of the corpse and dripped muddy water onto the table and the floor.
Jeremy mused aloud. ‘Should I cut the bandages away, or unwrap them?’
‘Will you be able to unwrap them, without damaging the body which you’ll have to lift up and down as the bandages unwind?’
‘Good point, Jo.’ Jeremy turned to look up at her. ‘If I cut them up the middle of the torso I might be able to free the chest that way. And then possibly unwind the face, arms and legs. I’ll start on the head and see how it goes.’
Jeremy made sure the head was raised on a neck block and grabbed a loose piece of bandage. As it was unwound, the first thing Jo and Byrd saw was black hair. Then the face, which was chalk white with purple lips. Eyes open, mouth open in silent scream. It looked like a female and one that had died in agony. Jeremy collected the bandages taken from the head and they were placed in an evidence bag.
‘I think this is going to be a bad one, Byrd.’
‘So do I, Boss,’ and Jo watched Eddie close his eyes and grip the railing, swaying slightly as though feeling faint.
‘You alright?’
Byrd nodded in agreement, but Jo wasn’t convinced. It really was a troubling sight. That poor girl, Jo thought. What on earth happened to her to make her look like a pastiche of the Edvard Munch painting ‘The Scream’.
They soon found out.
Jeremy easily cut away the bandages on the torso and was able to open them outwards, enabling them to see the chest cavity. The chest cavity? Shit.
‘Jeremy, what’s going on?’ Jo heard her voice wobble in horror.
‘Um, it appears the victim has undergone some kind of surgery.’
‘What the hell does that mean?’ Jo was peering down at the victim, trying to make some sense of the mangled mess of flesh and bone on display.
‘It would appear the skin has been cut, peeled away from the chest and then the ribs broken to give access to the chest cavity. Just like the procedure in an autopsy.’
‘How vile, but how did she die?’
‘I’d say because of her heart.’
‘Oh, did she have a heart attack?’
‘No, it was taken out. And by the looks of things, the procedure was started while the victim was still alive.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ whispered Byrd.
‘So where the hell is her heart?’
‘Hey, don’t shoot the messenger! That’s for you to find out, Jo.’
Once the autopsy was complete, Jo and Byrd left the mortuary and retired to a local café for copious amounts of caffeine to try to help them put the horror of the state of the body into perspective, before going back to the office. Jo soon realised that it was a pointless exercise. Nothing helped.
‘Who the hell could do that to another human being?’ a rhetorical question, knowing that he had no more idea than she had. ‘I know we tend to have the nasty, horrible cases, but I don’t think any of us have come across anything so inhumane.’
‘It makes me bloody angry, Jo.’
She nodded in reply, not minding that Eddie used her first name, as was his habit when they were on their own. ‘Me too.’
‘So we need to channel that.’
‘Absolutely,’ she agreed.
‘We will catch him.’ Eddie banged on the café table to emphasise his point, then realised his mistake as the other customers looked round at them.
Jo nodded and covered his clenched fist with her hand. ‘You’re right, Eddie. We need to be positive to counteract all the adversity that we’re going to meet in this case. It’s not going to be an easy one.’
‘There’s so little to go on,’ he grumbled.
‘At the moment, yes,’ said Jo and retrieved her hand as she realised she was still gripping his. ‘But we’ll gather more information, create leads, you know how it works, slowly, slowly does it.’
‘Let’s hope not too bloody slowly. He might strike again.’
‘He?’
‘He? Her? Who knows?’ Then Byrd smiled at Jo. ‘Come on then, let’s get to it.’
‘You go on ahead,’ Jo said. ‘I’ll be there shortly. There’s just one more thing I have to do.’
‘Okay, you’re the boss,’ and Byrd tossed her the car keys. ‘See you back at the ranch.’
4
Jo made her way back to the mortuary as Jeremy was just leaving the suite.
&nbs
p; ‘You alright, Jo?’
‘Yes, sure, I just wanted a few minutes with our victim.’
‘Be my guest,’ and he walked over to the cold storage, checked a label and then pulled open the drawer. ‘Take as long as you want.’
Joining him, Jo said, ‘Thanks, Jeremy,’ and then waited until he’d politely left the room.
Folding down the linen that covered her face, then looking down at the poor girl, whose dark hair made her alabaster skin appear even whiter. Jo stroked her face.
‘I want to help you,’ she whispered. ‘Let me help find your killer. Show me what happened.’
Jo slipped her hand in the girl’s and held it, putting her other hand over it, so it was sandwiched between them.
Then she waited.
The flash rocked Jo back on her heels, even though she’d been expecting it and she tightened her grip on the victim.
No, please no, don’t, please! HELP! Someone help me! I DON’T WANT TO DIE! Why are you doing this? Why me?
The hairs on the back of Jo’s neck stood up as she heard and felt the girl’s fear. It permeated every bone in her body. Every fibre. Every cell. She’d never been so afraid in all her life. And to be honest, neither had Jo.
Because you’re a slut, a whore, a SINNER!
The deep, booming voice filled Jo’s head.
You will be judged and found wanting.
Jo began shaking but was determined to keep a hold of the girl’s hand. This was the most powerful reading she’d ever had, and it made her sick to her stomach.
The stench of evil filled Jo’s nostrils and she began to take small, shallow breaths through her mouth. Panting, just like the dead girl before her had done.
The heat began to drain from Jo’s body, as she became as cold as the girl being tortured. She shivered.
Then with a tremendous force of will, Jo opened her eyes, and for just a moment she was able to see what the victim saw.
The mortuary disappeared and if anyone had been there to witness what Jo was doing, they would have seen the blankness in her eyes. Jo was looking at something other. The colour of her pupils faded away as the darkness took her.
The girl was spread eagled on a metal table. She was naked and tied down at the wrists and ankles. Cold, so cold. She appeared to be in an underground chamber. Brick walls, dirt floor, no windows. She couldn’t see much else, as her head was pinned down as well. The overall impression was of a crumbling, abandoned space.
Then she saw an animal looming over her. A horse? No, not that big. A dog? No bigger. A wolf? That was it. Grinning. Mouth open to reveal rows of sharp white teeth. Big, bad wolf.
Jo opened her mouth and from it poured a silent scream.
The girl thrashed against the bindings tying her to the table and began begging for the wolf not to hurt her and to let her go.
And then the connection was lost.
Jo let go of the dead girl’s hand. She was weak and shaking and held onto the drawer as she was in danger of collapse. It took a while before Jo was composed enough to be able to stand up unaided. Her right temple throbbed, and she passed her fingers over the raised scar, rubbing it.
As she slid the drawer inward, Jo promised the victim that whoever this lunatic was, big, bad wolf, she would do everything in her power to find him and bring him to justice.
5
Back at the office, Byrd was pinning up the photos that had been taken at the post-mortem that morning.
‘Don’t put the chest cavity ones up, Byrd,’ Jo said as she walked out of her office.
‘Too gruesome?’
‘For the moment, just because Judith’s Egyptian bloke is on his way.’
‘Got it,’ said Byrd and put those photos in his desk drawer, just as they heard voices and Judith appeared with a man in tow.
‘Professor Russell, our boss, Jo Wolfe and this is Detective Sgt Eddie Byrd. Bill Burke is away in the lab, but we’ll fill him in later.’
Russell approached Jo with his hand out. She took it and he placed his other hand over hers, sandwiching it. A politician’s handshake. She saw a flash in his eyes as he smiled at her, which unsettled Jo. Was he flirting with her? Maybe it was just that surrounded with nubile young women every day at the university, he considered himself a player and that every attractive woman was fair game.
Big, bad, wolf.
Jo was shaken and pulled her hand away. Where the hell had that come from? And what, if anything, did it mean? Was it just a memory from seeing their victim that resurfaced in her mind? Or was it something more? A message? A warning?
Judith found the professor a seat and the three officers lounged where they were, sitting on office chairs and on the edge of desks. Jo’s hand was still tingling from the encounter and she was trying hard not to show how much the handshake had affected her. She cleared her throat and then picked up her mug of coffee, hiding behind the prop.
‘Thanks for coming, Professor, it’s appreciated,’ said Judith.
‘Glad to help,’ Russell said as a lock of black hair fell over his forehead. He sported a popular haircut of short at the back and sides and longer on top. ‘May I study the photos?’
‘Of course, help yourself,’ said Jo and pointed to the boards.
Once he’d looked at the photos on the wall and returned to his chair he said, ‘So what do you want from me?’
Jo said, ‘Do you think our case has any elements of Egyptian practices.’
‘One question first.’
‘Yes?’
‘How did she die?’
‘Her chest was opened, and her heart cut out.’
Jo’s brutal words had the effect she wanted, and Russell closed his eyes for a moment. Then he said, ‘That’s what I expected you to say. Therefore, there’s no doubt in my mind that it does.’
Into the silence that followed, Byrd spoke. ‘Where are you based, Professor? I hope we’ve not dragged you too far from home.’
Jo thought Byrd was trying to be nice to the poor man after her bluntness.
‘I’ve only come from Chichester University,’ said Professor Russell, ‘so it wasn’t any bother at all. In fact I must admit to being rather captivated by your investigation.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’ Russell took his jacket off and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Jo wondered if he was planning on staying a long time. She hoped not. ‘Sorry it’s so hot in here,’ she said. ‘Heating is on the blink and it’s got stuck at ‘rainforest’ temperature.’
He smiled and Jo noticed he had twinkling blue eyes, which she immediately avoided. But she had to admit that under his trendy slim fitting button down collar shirt and jeans that were obviously Levi’s, he had quite a body for a man in what? His late 30’s?
Byrd said, ‘What are your initial thoughts, Professor?’
‘Well, based upon what we know so far; the mummification of the body and taking out of the heart, it could be the work of the God of Death.’
Judith said, ‘I beg your pardon?’ She’d gone as white as the Professor’s shirt.
‘Who the hell is that?’ growled Jo, not liking what she was hearing.
‘Anubis. Here’s a picture.’
He flicked through his document folder, then stood up and pinned a picture to the board so they could all see it.
‘Bloody hell he’s got a wolf’s head on,’ exclaimed Byrd.
‘Did he wear a real one, do you think?’ said Judith and shivered.
‘Big, bad, wolf,’ mumbled Jo, more to herself than the room, as she felt the world tip on its axis. The picture on the board was too similar to what she’d seen in the vision for it to be anything else.
Byrd heard her. ‘Sorry, Boss?’
She shook her head, ‘Nothing.’
‘His name is Anubis,’ said the Professor. ‘Readings of the hieroglyphics say that someone had to protect the dead, because a common problem was the digging up of bodies shortly after burial, by jackals and wild dogs. So Anubis became a protector of graves
and cemeteries. The dead were usually buried on the west bank of the Nile.’
‘But why would he do this to her?’ Byrd got the photo of the open, empty chest cavity from his drawer and handed it to the Professor.
Professor Russell baulked at the photo, then closed his eyes and took a minute to regain his composure. ‘I believe it’s to do with the Judgement of the Dead. Let me explain,’ he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. ‘To the Ancient Egyptians, the judgement of the dead was the process that allowed the gods to judge the worthiness of the souls of the deceased. Deeply rooted in the Egyptian belief of immortality, judgement was one of the most important parts of the journey through the afterlife.
‘Once the deceased finished their journey through the underworld, they arrived at the Hall of Maat. There their purity would be the determining factor in whether they would be allowed to enter the Kingdom of Osiris. After confirming that they were sinless, the deceased was presented with the balance that was used to weight their heart against the feather of Maat. Anubis was the god often seen administering this test.’
‘Test? asked Judith. ‘What test?’
‘If the deceased's heart balanced with the feather of Maat, Thoth would record the result and they would be presented to Osiris, who admitted them into the Sekhet-Aaru. A bit like our heaven. However, if their heart was heavier than the feather, it was to be devoured by the Goddess Ammit, permanently destroying the soul of the deceased.’
No one spoke. Jo didn’t think any of them were capable of speech at that moment. Her head was swimming with pictures of Anubis with a wolf’s head on, dressed in Egyptian clothing, hearts being torn out of chests and the connection with her surname. Each one made her shudder anew.
‘Sorry,’ mumbled a white-faced Judith, as she rushed out of the office.
Even Byrd hadn’t taken that bit of history well. ‘That means,’ Byrd stopped and coughed, before starting again. ‘That means he is going to kill again?’
‘I would say it’s highly likely,’ confirmed Professor Russell.
‘Big, bad wolf,’ mumbled Jo, to no one in particular.
Touching the Dead Page 2
