Silence of the Bones: A Murder Force Crime Thriller

by Adam J. Wright

  Silence of the Bones

  A Murder Force Crime Thriller

  Adam J. Wright

  The Murder Force Series

  EYES OF THE WICKED

  SILENCE OF THE BONES

  REMAINS OF THE NIGHT

  HOUSE OF THE DEAD

  ECHO OF THE PAST

  Also by Adam J. Wright

  DARK PEAK (DCI Battle)

  THE RED RIBBON GIRLS (DI Summers)

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  By the Same Author

  Chapter 1

  The night was quiet.

  He drove along the main road of the village with his headlights turned off. No need to wake up any curious residents or light sleepers who might be able to identify his Land Rover to the police. It was almost three in the morning, and he wanted to ensure that the sleepy village of Temple Well remained just that; sleepy.

  There would be plenty of excitement here tomorrow, once someone discovered what he was about to leave in the ruined temple on the hill. Until then, the village could remain unremarkable. And he could travel through it unseen.

  Turning off the main road, he drove the Land Rover up a steep incline that terminated at a pair of wrought iron gates set into a stone wall, silhouetted against the moonlit sky.

  He killed the engine and got out, being sure to close the driver’s door quietly behind him.

  Standing on the pavement, he listened to the night. His senses seemed more alive than ever. There was a smell in the air that he couldn’t describe in words, but that he knew meant it was going to rain tomorrow. He could hear the scuffling of leaves on the other side of the wall as small, nocturnal animals moved through them, searching for food.

  Satisfied that there was no one else on the street, he went around to the back of the Land Rover and opened it.

  The bundle lay there, waiting.

  He’d wrapped the girl’s remains tightly in a bedsheet to keep them all together. Looking at the result of his handiwork as it lay in the shadows in the back of the car, he could almost believe it was nothing more than a collection of sticks swathed in the sheet.

  As he leaned forward and picked up the swaddled remains, they felt light and brittle inside the material, adding to the illusion that this could be nothing more than a collection of branches.

  Leaving the back of the Land Rover open to dissipate the musty smell that had permeated the air in there, he carried the bundle to the gates.

  The tall, wrought iron gates were closed, but not locked. A sign bolted to the wall announced that Temple Well Chapel lay beyond the entrance. The chapel, he knew, had been built by the Knights Templar a long time ago and had given Temple Well half of its name, the other half being provided by a sacred well on the outskirts of the village.

  Pulling back an iron latch with his knee—the swaddled remains were light but required both of his arms due to their size—he proceeded through the open gate and into the car park that had been built for tourists visiting the ruins.

  He crossed the car park quickly and walked up a grassy slope to where the ruins waited, their crumbling walls shining in the moonlight.

  “Nearly there,” he whispered to the girl in his arms. He knew she couldn’t hear him—she hadn’t heard anything at all for a long time—but he felt that talking to her was the right thing to do, for some reason. Tomorrow, she would be found by the police, but for now, she was in his care, and it was up to him to make sure everything was done correctly for her.

  Entering the ruins through an archway in the outer wall, he searched for a suitable place to leave the girl. It only took a couple of seconds before he decided on a stone altar that stood at the far end of the ruined structure. It was perfect.

  He carried her over to it and laid her down gently on the rough, stone surface. Stepping back, he surveyed the scene. Some tourist or local would stumble across the body on the altar tomorrow, and then the girl’s remains would be given back to her family for a proper burial.

  He retraced his steps, leaving the ruins quickly. When he got back to the Land Rover, he closed the tailgate and got in behind the wheel.

  With the headlights off, he drove back down the incline to the main road that led through the village. He felt a sense of accomplishment but knew that placing the girl on the altar was simply the start of a long road. He had a lot of work ahead of him.

  There were many, many more girls like her.

  This was just the beginning.

  Chapter 2

  “How did you feel after your husband died?” the psychiatrist, whose name was Trudy, asked.

  Detective Inspector Danica Summers, who was sitting opposite Trudy in the psychiatrist’s York office, frowned. What the hell did this have to do with her getting back to work?

  “I don’t see how that’s relevant to what we’re discussing.”

  “Everything is relevant,” Trudy said. “It’s only been two years since you lost your husband. How are you coping? Do you feel you’re able to handle life on a day-to-day basis?”

  “Yes.”

  Sitting back in her chair, the psychiatrist said, “Could you elaborate on that?”

  Dani sighed. She obviously wasn’t going to be able to get out of this office—which felt suddenly hot and stifling—until she’d given the psychiatrist chapter and verse.

  “When Shaun died, I was devastated. My entire world fell apart. But I couldn’t wallow in self-pity because I had responsibilities; to my daughter, to my dogs, and to the people I work with. I had to get on with it.”

  Trudy nodded slowly and seemed to be considering Dani’s words. Probably searching for something that would break through Dani’s calm demeanour. The detective had already decided—since the moment she sat down in the room, in fact—that the psychiatrist was probing for a weakness.

  “Tell me about your daughter.”

  “She’s a smart and beautiful girl,” Dani said. “She’s studying for a Chemistry degree at Birmingham University.”

  “How has all this affected her?” The psychiatrist waved her hands in the air vaguely when she said, “all this,” lending the words a sense of ambiguity. She might be referring to Shaun’s death, or to the shooting that had cracked Dani’s ribs, or even to life in general.

  “She handles everything very well,” Dani said, deciding to be just as ambiguous with her answer.

  “The shooting?” Trudy asked. “How did she cope with that?”

  “Very maturely.”

  “Her father’s death?”

  “The same. Look, I thought we were here to discuss my fitness to return to work, not my entire life story.”

  “We can’t separate one from the other if we’re to look at this holistically. We can’t compartmentalise aspects or events of our lives. Is that what you do, Detective Inspector? Compartmentalise?” She leaned forward slightly, her eyes scrutinising Dani from behind her glasses.

  That gave Dani pause. She did separate the various aspects of her life
; she knew that. Everything was ordered and simple. She went to work. When she got home, she walked the dogs. Charlie visited during the holidays; well, she used to visit during the holidays, but she was growing up now and that was changing.

  The only thing she found hard to disconnect from was her work. When she was working on an active case, it occupied her thoughts, no matter what she was doing. Day or night. The case bled into every aspect of her life.

  There was no way she was going to tell the psychiatrist that.

  “I put things into their own boxes when I need to,” she said.

  “When you get home, do you leave work behind?”

  “Yes.” It was a lie, but she told it convincingly.

  “Do you think about when you were shot?”

  “No.” That wasn’t so much of a lie; other than a couple of nightmares, she barely thought of being shot. The pain in her ribs, yes. The frustration at not being able to move without pain for six weeks, also yes. But the actual moment she was shot, no. That was in the past. She’d locked it away in its own mental box.

  “You aren’t reminded of it when you feel pain in your ribs?”

  “I’m virtually pain free.”

  “When you were recovering, then.”

  “No. The pain simply reminded me to not stretch too far or put too much weight on my side.”

  “Didn’t you feel anger at the man who shot you?”

  Dani shook her head.

  “Why not? He put you into this position. Because of him, you’ve missed six weeks of work already.”

  Dani didn’t like the sound of that last sentence. The psychiatrist made it sound as if there might be more weeks at home, more long hours of boredom. She couldn’t fail this evaluation; she was itching to get back to the Murder Force. Missing out on the team’s formative weeks made her feel like an outsider. Working relationships would have been built, trust established between team members. All while she was absent.

  “I don’t feel angry at him,” she said. “We were on opposite sides of the game. I wanted to catch him, and he wanted to escape.”

  “So, you understand his actions because you see him as an opponent. An opponent trying to win a game you were both playing against each other.”

  Dani nodded. “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “So, your job is a game?” The psychiatrist regarded her over the top of her glasses.

  “No, it isn’t a game. We deal with life and death every day. It’s deadly serious. But each case is like a game in the way it plays out. There are players with opposing motives and ideals, strategic moves, and everyone tries to win.” She paused and then added, “But, unlike a game, no one really does.”

  Trudy looked up from her notes. “Oh? Surely you believe you won your most recent case. The perpetrator was caught. Isn’t that a win for you?”

  “People died. Others went through experiences that will affect them their whole lives.”

  “Are you including yourself in that list? Will you be affected your whole life by what happened to you?”

  “Every case affects the detectives who work on it in some way or other. We wouldn’t be human, otherwise.”

  “What about being shot? Did that make this case affect you more than usual?”

  “Only because it knocked me off my feet for six weeks. It hasn’t affected me psychologically, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  The psychiatrist consulted her notes again. That obviously was what she was thinking. It was also probably what Chief Superintendent Gallow had been thinking, since he’d insisted Dani come to this psychiatric evaluation before re-joining Murder Force.

  “That isn’t necessarily what I’m thinking,” Trudy said. “I do think that you’ve been reticent to speak about yourself during this session.”

  “I’m not really a sharer.”

  “Nothing you say in this room will go beyond these four walls.”

  “Yes, you said that when I arrived.” She checked the clock on the wall. It was almost eleven. She’d been here for an hour.

  “I just want to ensure that you know you can say anything here and it will remain between us. The report I send to the Chief Superintendent doesn’t contain any specifics of this interview, only my evaluation of your fitness to return to work.”

  “And what is your evaluation?” Dani asked. She was tired of playing this particular game, and angry at herself for feeling somehow beholden to this woman sitting in front of her. Trudy held the key to her immediate future, but Dani refused to ingratiate herself towards the psychiatrist.

  “Oh, you’re fit to return to work,” Trudy said. “I knew that after the first ten minutes. I’ll send my recommendation to Superintendent Gallow that you be reinstated on the team with immediate effect.”

  Dani frowned, confused. If the psychiatrist knew she was mentally fit after ten minutes, then why had she sat here being grilled for another fifty?

  Trudy answered the unspoken question. “I’m writing an article on the mental effects of police work. Your situation is quite intriguing, with your background of personal loss, separation from your daughter, and the shooting incident. I wanted to delve deeper, as it were, into your thoughts on those events.”

  Dani got out of the chair. She wouldn’t be this woman’s lab rat for some damned article.

  “We don’t have to stop yet,” Trudy said. “I don’t have another appointment until—“

  “I don’t care when your next bloody appointment is. I didn’t come here to be part of your experiment.”

  “It’s not an experiment,” Trudy said, seemingly offended. “It’s a peer-reviewed article.”

  “I don’t care what it is, I’m out of here.” She strode to the door, grabbing her coat from the stand as she went. Flinging open the door, she stormed past the bewildered receptionist and out into the corridor.

  After pausing for a moment to try and remember if the elevators were to the left or right, she recalled that she’d come from the right and headed off in that direction.

  As she was walking along the corridor, her phone, which was in her coat pocket, began to buzz.

  Dani fished it out and checked the screen. She didn’t know the number, but the dialling code—01904—told her the call was coming from York. She answered it. “Hello?”

  “Summers, is that you?”

  “Yes, who’s this?”

  “DCS Gallow.”

  “Sorry, sir, I didn’t recognise your voice.”

  “Yes, well, no matter. The good news is that Trudy Manners has just rung me and told me I can have you back on the team whenever I want.”

  Dani felt herself smiling. The psychiatrist had probably been worried that Dani might let Gallow know she’d been using the return-to-work interviews for her own purposes, so she must have got on the phone as soon as Dani left her office. Case closed. Dani hadn’t intended to tell Gallow anything, anyway, but the fear that she might had spurred Trudy into action, and that pleased her.

  “And I want you back on the team now,” Gallow continued. “So, I’m afraid your little holiday is over.”

  “Yes, sir.” Dani had never been so glad to leave a holiday behind. She’d reached the elevators now, and was jabbing at the button to call one to this floor.

  “You have the address of the new headquarters?”

  “I have it, sir.” During her recovery, she’d been sent a letter informing her of the new location of the Murder Force HQ. She’d placed the letter in the glove box of her car, ready for the day she returned to work.

  And now, that day had arrived.

  “Right. Well get over here as soon as you can. We’ve got a new case, and I want you on it.”

  “I’ll be there shortly, sir.”

  “Excellent. I’ll see you then.” He hung up.

  The elevator arrived and Dani got in.

  She was still smiling when she exited the building and walked to her car.

  Retrieving the crisp, white printed piece of paper that contained the address of
her new headquarters from the glove box, she entered the postcode into her Land Rover’s SatNav and waited for the mechanical voice to guide her.

  While the computer was still searching for a satellite, Dani drove out of the car park and joined the traffic on the busy road.

  Her recovery—or her “little holiday,” as Gallow had called it—was over.

  She was back.

  Chapter 3

  The SatNav took Dani through the outskirts of the city, until she found herself driving north on the A19. After half an hour of driving through villages and along lonely stretches of road, she followed the monotonic voice’s instruction and turned right, heading east through the moors.

  A couple of villages and miles of moorland later, she arrived at the village of Stonegrave and the SatNav sent her north again, until she arrived at her destination, which seemed to be an old school building.

  The two-storey, brick structure was ringed by an iron fence which had been painted dark green at some point in the distant past and which bore no identifying signs or markings upon its paint-flaked railings.

  The only thing that told Dani she was at the correct location was a number of police cars parked around the building. She drove through the open gate and parked her Land Rover Discovery in between two patrol cars.

  There was only one obvious way into the building; a pair of double doors that were made from wood and glass, and looked like they’d seen better days. Dani slid out of the Discovery, crossed the car park quickly, and pushed through the doors.