Play Dead (15 page)

K
im was back
at Westerley within ten minutes of receiving the call.

She parked the Golf at the top of the site and made sure the car was ventilated for the dog.

She’d lost Daniel about three miles behind.

The four floodlights at the bottom of the site guided her way, although Cher still lay somewhere between her and them. The strategically placed wet-floor signs did not glow in the dark.

Dawson met her about halfway. ‘They’ve uncovered flesh now,’ he said without any greeting.

His phone call had informed her that less than three feet down they had discovered some remnants of clothing.

‘What does Doctor A say?’ she asked.

‘Dunno, half of what she says is a mystery to me. I think she swears in many languages.’

Kim approached what she now knew to be a grave. The forensic archaeologist was kneeling about two feet down with a soft brush in her hand. One of her assistants was using a small trowel to remove samples of the soil. To the right two others were sifting soil already removed.

Keats was watching intently with two of his aides. Harry appeared to have left the scene for now, but Kim knew he’d be back. The rest of the site would need to be checked.

‘Doctor,’ Kim said by way of a greeting. ‘What do we have?’

‘Inspector, you are just in the nook of time,’ she said without looking up.

Kim felt the heat of the four floodlights beating down on her.

As she bent forwards she heard the sound of footsteps and the voice of Daniel as he spoke to Dawson.

‘Male or female?’ he asked.

Dawson tutted. ‘Dunno yet, ask Rosetta Stone over there.’

Looking down into the pit Kim could see that a square of sky-blue material had been exposed. She guessed it might be a T-shirt of some kind.

‘That is the left leg.’ Doctor A pointed with the other end of the brush.

Kim frowned and peered closer. She had thought she was looking only at soil.

‘There’s still skin?’ Kim asked.

Doctor A nodded. ‘Peter is working on the head and I am working on exposing the sex,’ she said. ‘In females the uterus is last to decompose.’

Kim had heard that somewhere before.

She knew that when buried six feet down in ordinary soil an unembalmed body could take eight to twelve years to decompose to a skeleton, whereas an exposed body could be skeletonised within days.

‘Any idea how long?’ Kim asked.

Doctor A turned to look at her. Kim saw a couple of dirt marks on her face.

‘I would guessing at five foot five,’ she answered.

Kim realised she would have to be more specific with the doctor.

‘I’m sorry, I meant…’

‘I know, Inspector,’ she said, offering a lopsided smile. Everyone had their own methods of getting through the horrors of a crime scene, whether it be recent or historic.

She continued. ‘As you know, many factors slow down decomposition: lower temperature, exclusion of air, absence of animal life, damp, humidity. I could go on.’ She turned to face Kim. ‘Did you know that in India an uncoffined body is skeletonised within a year?’

Kim shook her head as Doctor A turned back to the body.

Her gaze met that of Keats and she knew they were both thinking the exact same thing. They had been here before during the Crestwood investigation. They had faced each other across too many shallow graves, but it was the career they had chosen. She held his gaze. She got it. He nodded and looked away.

‘Aha,’ Doctor A and Peter said together, prompting Kim to wonder how long they had worked side by side.

The double exclamation brought all parties to the edge of the pit.

‘It is indeed a female,’ said Doctor A.

Kim could see that a flowery cotton fabric around the lower half of the body had been exposed but she guessed that wasn’t what had prompted the doctor’s confirmation.

Kim’s gaze travelled up the pit to the highest point where Peter continued to dust.

There was one thing Kim didn’t need to wait to be told, because it was already abundantly clear.

The woman’s face had been completely smashed in.

D
o
you remember when I refused my medication, Mummy? I didn’t understand why I had to take the pills but you insisted every day. Even though I didn’t feel poorly.

I said to you one day that I didn’t want to take them any more and that they made me feel strange. I refused to drink the water so you took the water away.

You popped a pill into my dry mouth, but I couldn’t swallow it down. You tipped back my head and stroked at my throat until the pill made its slow, arid journey down, like a football passing through a straw.

You dried my tears and wiped my snot and then gave me back the water.

I never complained again.

And I took my tablets every day.

‘
O
kay
, I’ll go first,’ Kim said once everyone was seated. ‘As you all know, a second body was found on the Westerley grounds in the early hours. Identified as female and finally removed at two this morning.’

The vision was still with her and would be for a long time to come. She’d sent Bryant and Dawson home around one a.m. and had stood by the grave until their victim had been gently and painstakingly removed. Never before had she seen a body containing so many stages of decomposition. Clean, white bone had protruded in places while others still held a full covering of flesh. It had reminded Kim of an animal carcass part devoured by its predators.

A thick silence had fallen over the area as Doctor A and two of her colleagues had tenderly placed the body onto the waiting body bag.

‘
Spijam dobro dragi moi
,’ Doctor A had whispered before stepping away and nodding to Keats.

Kim wasn’t sure what the archaeologist had said, but it had sounded like some kind of endearment or farewell to carry on her way.

‘We have her now,’ Keats had said, after a couple of deep swallows. And the handover was complete.

Everyone waited until the bag was zipped and on the stretcher before dispersing from the scene. It wasn’t a funeral; it wasn’t a memorial. But together beneath the floodlights, surrounded by the dense blackness of night, they had offered a moment of respect. It was the least they could do.

Kim took a deep breath and continued. ‘We have no further information except that the face of our victim had most definitely been beaten.’

This left no doubt in the minds of anyone that they were looking for the same killer.

‘So how does that help our timeline? This lady appears to have been the first…’

‘Let’s hope so,’ Bryant said, and she had to agree.

Harry and his team would be back at Westerley this morning and would sweep the whole area again. Kim prayed there were no more.

‘We don’t know exactly how long she’s been down there but we’re clearly talking years. So why has he waited so long to do it again but then speeded up this week?’

Everyone was silent for a minute.

‘Come on people, think,’ Kim said.

‘Something has sparked him off…’ Dawson offered.

Kim thought for a minute. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘He’s too organised for it to have been some kind of knee-jerk reaction. On both occasions this week he’s had the presence of mind to take away whatever it is he’s used to beat them, probably a rock,’ she said.

‘He’s been incapacitated somehow,’ Bryant said.

Kim considered. ‘Possible, but I don’t think that’s it.’

The room fell silent as three sets of eyes stared at the whiteboard for clues.

‘Come on, guys, he’s organised, methodical, ritualistic,’ Kim prompted. She felt like a parent coaxing a homework answer from a child. ‘What must he have?’

‘Order,’ Stacey said, looking around her own immaculately organised desk.

Kim nodded. ‘Go on,’ she urged.

‘He couldn’t get Isobel before Jemima. There’s a particular order to the process?’ Stacey asked.

‘Bingo,’ Kim said. ‘Stacey gets the prize. Our first victim was murdered years ago but our second victim, Jemima, only returned to the country a few weeks ago. She’s been working with horses in Dubai. And then Isobel so soon afterwards. It’s as though he was waiting for Jemima to return to carry on.’

She could see she had their full attention. ‘So that tells us there is a reason why he’s targeting these particular women. There is a link somewhere. It’s going to be difficult to tie Isobel to anyone so we need to focus on the other two.’

And using her own logic of past, present or future she knew exactly where they should start.

‘We know that Jemima and our latest victim hadn’t met recently, so we can rule out present. Jemima was planning nothing untoward that we’re aware of, so that leaves only one direction.’

‘I’ll start digging into Jemima’s distant past and work forwards,’ Stacey said. ‘I’ve still got nothing on Isobel’s place of work or address, but I’ll keep at it.’

Kim nodded her agreement. Isobel’s husband was certainly someone she wanted to talk to.

Kim turned towards Dawson, who pre-empted her instruction.

‘That’ll be me on mispers again then?’ he said knowingly.

‘Yes, but only for an hour or two, and then I want you back on site at Westerley. Forensics will be back by then looking for any clues, and I want you right there if they find anything.’ She paused. ‘Oh, and Kev, dig away as much as you like. I want to be sure we know everything there is to know about the folks over there.’

‘Got it, boss,’ he said brightening.

‘Bryant and I will be heading over to Keats shortly, so if there’s anything likely to help, we’ll let you know.’

Dawson nodded and pulled his shirt collar away from his neck.

She had opened the token window at six thirty when she’d arrived, but no breeze had found its way in yet. To make matters worse, the single radiator beneath the window was still kicking out heat. On a day that promised temperatures in the high twenties it was an unwelcome addition. The knob was broken, and the heating did not get turned off globally as the offices on the north side of the building were like the chilled section of the supermarket, whatever the season.

A floor fan stood in the corner, offering nothing more than an occasional lifting of papers from Dawson’s desk.

‘Stace, anything on Isobel’s phone?’

Stacey shook her head. ‘It’s a pay and go jobby bought from Asda in Brierley Hill. It wasn’t registered so the number from her boyfriend wasn’t a lot of use to us. It was bought with cash. I’ve already fired off an email to the networks, but you’ll all remember last time.’

Oh yes, Kim remembered it well. Two little girls had been kidnapped and their only lead had been a batch of mobile-phone numbers. The networks had laughed in their faces.

‘Are we ruling out female killer, boss?’ Dawson asked.

‘He’s right, guv,’ Bryant agreed before she had chance to answer. He continued. ‘No sexual assault, drugs used for pliability. It could be a strong woman.’

Kim opened her mouth to argue and decided against it. Her gut didn’t think so but on the evidence she couldn’t rule it out.

‘Okay, guys, there’s something else. Another case we’re looking at.’

‘Because we haven’t got enough,’ Dawson grumbled.

‘Sit it out if you like then, Kev,’ she shot back, knowing that nothing would humiliate him more.

‘But I like to be kept busy,’ he said with an apologetic smile.

Kim didn’t smile back.

‘You all remember the guy found at Fens Pools a few years ago?’

‘The Pianist?’ Dawson asked.

Kim wondered just how many nicknames the guy had.

‘Uggghhhh, Kev,’ Stacey admonished as her face scrunched in distaste.

‘Yes, him,’ Kim confirmed. ‘We’re looking into it and before you say another word, Kev, yes this was a Brierley Hill case, but it remains unsolved.’

‘Wasn’t gonna speak, boss,’ he said, shaking his head.

‘We can all guess that his hands were removed to avoid identification, but I learned yesterday that his pacemaker was cut out also.’

‘They have a serial number,’ Dawson observed, narrowing his eyes. Now the case had his interest.

‘Don’t those patients have to take warfarin and get monitored every six months?’ Bryant asked.

‘And second prize of the day goes to the man on my right,’ she said and then looked to Stacey who knew what to do.

‘I’ll start ringing the clinics and check for anyone that started missing appointments about three years ago.’

‘Thanks Stace, and Kev… while you’re looking through mispers anyway…’

‘Got it, boss. But there’s just one more thing.’

‘Go,’ she said, rising from the desk.

‘I appear to be the only person who didn’t win a prize.’

She looked at him meaningfully. ‘And that, Kev, should tell you something.’

O
h
, Mummy, do you remember THAT DAY the same way I do?

You were a year late dropping me off at school. No preschool or nursery for me. No opportunity for a young mind to familiarise itself with other young minds.

A simple lie about my birthday, and I was all yours for another year.

You didn’t think I’d find out, did you?

That morning you cried as though your heart was being torn in two. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I cried too.

You sobbed as you brushed my hair. Your fingers trembled as you formed two equal pigtails that protruded from the side of my head. You were rough as though it was my fault.

You made me breakfast and gave me my vitamins, but they weren’t vitamins at all.

I remember my socks. They were ankle socks with pink butterflies in a line around the top. I didn’t like them, but I couldn’t say so because I remembered the pinafore dress.

As we walked hand in hand I wondered if I could somehow discard them during the day and then I could blame someone else.

There were tears at the classroom, from us both. I cried because you cried and then you cried some more. I can’t remember who stopped first as the teacher pulled us apart.

The other kids looked on, laughing and pointing meanly. I sat in the corner on my own hoping that someone would talk to me and praying that no one would talk to me.

I was sure when I told you how much I hated it you would not make me go again.

Louise was my designated escort. She was so pretty. At break time it was the job of the six-year-old girl to show me around. She took me to the little girls’ toilets. I didn’t want to go in front of her but the milk from the breakfast cereal weighed heavily on my bladder.

The doors were not full length. If you crouched you could see under, and if you jumped you could see over.

I peed as quickly as I could to the sound of Louise’s excited chatter about the lunch choices.

I stood and pulled up my knickers, oblivious to the fact that the chatter had stopped and that Louise was peering over the top of the door.

She was quiet and her eyes were wide. Heat infused my face and I didn’t know why.

But I was to find out later that day.