She opened the seal and pulled out the camera and card, hoping the data would be retrievable.
The camera was functional. The buttons worked, the menus were operational. But that wasn’t where she was going to start.
She took the card and placed it in the SD slot of her laptop. Swallowing, she brought up the file manager. Would the photos be preserved? Would there even be any?
Only one way to find out.
Gail licked her lips as she flicked through to the external drive. Bingo. Over a hundred photographs, time and date stamped, each with its metadata: where they’d been taken, the camera settings, the GPS location.
Perfect, she thought. Thank God for serious photographers and their digital SLRs.
She navigated through to the photographs taken on Sunday morning. The first was timestamped 4:30am. It showed a man lying in bed, two small children either side of him. All were asleep, the kids draped over their dad like he was just another part of the bed.
Gail felt her heart soften. Ameena had stopped to take a photo of her family before heading out before dawn. This was a tight-knit family.
She shrugged her shoulders to shake away the heavy feeling, and flicked through to the next photograph. It was of the path between Studland and Old Harry Rocks, familiar from her trips back and forth while she’d been examining the crime scene. Ameena hadn’t been far from where Gail had parked her van, when she’d taken this photograph. Gail checked the time: 5:12am. She flicked through to the next one.
It was further along the path, with more sky taking up the frame. A smudge of sea was visible above the cliffs. 5:14am.
More photographs followed, a stop-motion video of Ameena’s journey up to the headland. Gail felt her skin chill as she worked forward to the moment Ameena would die.
The stop-motion stills were followed by a slew of photographs of the same scene. A vantage point over Old Harry Rocks. They differed in terms of the light and quality, but not the content. The woman had been experimenting with the camera settings. Occasionally there would be another shot out towards the sea, or over towards Bournemouth. She was anticipating the dawn, waiting for the perfect light.
Then there were two shots of a white card: Ameena adjusting her light levels. This woman was serious about her photography.
It was macabre, but Gail could only hope she continued shooting, right up until the final moment. She kept going. More shots of Old Harry Rocks, the light growing now, the settings changing. Occasionally there was a pause for a major setting to be adjusted, and then a few more shots. Slightly different framing, slightly different angle.
Ameena had clearly staked out a location, the spot where she’d laid down her coat. Had she sat on it to keep her clothes from getting wet from the dew? Maybe she’d used it to protect her camera gear.
Gail flicked forward again. The next photograph wasn’t of Old Harry Rocks, but of the sky. It was mid blue, facing away from the sunrise. Gail tried to determine the angle. Directly upwards?
Then there was another shot of the sky, this one with a pink tinge to one side: the sunrise. It was followed by more similar shots, all depicting parts of the sky. None of them looked deliberately framed.
There were ten of them, twelve, fourteen, twenty. Gail checked the settings: the camera had been on rapid burst mode. The shots morphed into other images: blurred grass, the sea beyond the cliffs, the rocks, the Isle of Wight in the distance. The framing was random now, chaotic.
Gail tried to imagine where Ameena had been standing when she had taken them, if the word ‘taken’ was appropriate. It felt like these images had been captured passively, almost by accident. Gail kept going, her chest tightening.
The next image showed a hand. Gail squinted and enlarged it. The hand was shadowy and dark. She pulled in a breath, then turned in her seat and beckoned Gav over.
“Look at this.”
He bent over her chair, peering at the screen over her shoulder. “Is this from Ameena Khan’s camera?”
She nodded. There was a lump in her throat.
“Whose hand d’you think it is?” she breathed.
Gav bent his head to one side. “Her killer?”
She nodded, her pulse fast. “We need to ID it.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lesley walked into the office to find Mike and Tina staring into their computer screens.
“Boss,” Mike said, raising his head. “I’ve got the email from the law firm.”
“The files?” Lesley asked.
He nodded.
“Let’s have a look.”
Lesley dragged over a chair. He pulled up a set of files.
“Three cases,” he said.
“Go on.”
“One for aggravated burglary, a Troy Barnes. Sexual assault case, Collin Thrumpton, and then a fraud case, Pauline Silvers.”
“I remember seeing that one in the news,” said Tina. “She was a GP, defrauded her practice.”
Lesley whistled. “Takes all sorts.”
“Not,” said Mike.
Lesley smiled. “So did Ameena win or lose these cases?”
“The aggravated burglary one, she lost. The guy got a suspended sentence. Sexual assault one is ongoing, looks like she’s trying to do a deal with the CPS. The fraud one, that’s dragging on. Not got a court date yet.”
“OK,” said Lesley, “We keep our eye on that one.”
“You think this GP might have killed her?” Tina asked.
“I don’t think anything,” Lesley replied. “I just want to keep my eye on it, in case it leads somewhere. You said it was in the news, see what you can get online.”
“Boss.” Tina turned back to her computer.
Lesley pointed at Mike’s screen, “Check out the metadata. I want to see if there’s something missing.”
“Metadata?”
“Metadata.” She looked at him. “You know what metadata is, don’t you?”
He shrugged.
Jesus wept, she thought. She wished she had DI Finch here, and her DC, Connie Williams. They’d be all over this metadata. They’d have stripped it out, turned it upside down and kicked it into next week by now. She’d have the whole lot on the board, and they’d know exactly what was missing.
She took a breath. “The files will have information about the data, details about the files themselves, not just their contents. Things like the dates they were created, when they were last saved, the author, where they were created, whose machine, that kind of thing.”
She grabbed his mouse and clicked it a few times. “See, there. Have a look at that.” She turned to the PC. “Tina, you got anything on this fraud case?”
Tina looked across at her, her brow furrowed. “Nasty. The other partners in the GP practice are up in arms. They’re threatening to sue her.”
“While there’s a criminal case going on?” Lesley asked.
Tina shrugged.
Lesley shook her head. “They can’t start proceedings while the case is ongoing, but… It means the outcome of that case matters to a fair few people.”
“But GPs, boss,” Mike said. “They’re sworn to protect life, they’re not going to kill somebody.”
Lesley eyed him. “No assumptions, Mike. People can surprise you.”
Dennis entered. “Boss,” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you were back.”
“Pleased to see you, Dennis. Anything to report?”
He shook his head. “Not since getting back from the husband’s house. Poor guy.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Poor guy indeed, but we still need to keep a close eye on him.”
Dennis nodded.
“We’re looking into the cases Ameena was working on,” she told him. “Trying to find the gaps. What have you got, Mike?”
“I’m getting the hang of it,” he said, “I’ve got the last date the files were opened. In two of the cases, it’s over ten days ago. The other case, the sexual assault one, was created last week.”
“So what was sh
e working on in between?”
“Maybe she was on leave,” suggested Dennis.
Lesley shook her head. “Her PA told me there’d be something missing. Whatever it is, it’ll be what she was working on in the gap.”
Tina raised her hand. Lesley gave her a look. “This isn’t school, PC Abbott.”
“Sorry, boss. It’s just, I’ve found something else. I thought I’d have a look through the court records. I’ve got Ameena Khan’s name on another case, a Steven Leonard.”
Lesley moved round to Tina’s desk. “What’s he up for?”
“Drugs. Supply, possession with intent.”
“How much?” Lesley asked.
“Five hundred ecstasy tablets.”
She whistled. “That’s one hell of a party. What stage is it at?”
“Sentence handed down end of last week, boss.”
“That fits with our timeline. What did he get?”
Tina turned to her. “A fine. Five hundred pounds.”
“Five hundred tablets of MDMA and he only got a five hundred quid fine?”
“She’s clearly good at her job,” Dennis said.
“It went to trial,” Tina said. “Magistrates’ Court.”
“It’s unusual for something that big to be dealt with by the magistrates.”
“More than unusual,” said Dennis.
Lesley tapped her cheek. He was right. Why didn’t it go to Crown Court? And she’d have expected him to get a custodial sentence or at least a bigger fine.
“OK,” she said. “Do some more digging. Find out what happened that made the magistrate so nice to the bloke. What did Ameena do?”
“Boss.” Tina turned back to her screen.
“I’m prepared to bet that’s the one that her PA said would be missing, and that could be why. Get everything you can on it, Tina. Look into those court files, find news reports. Find out who the prosecuting officer is, we’ll need to talk to them.”
“No problem.”
The door opened and Johnny and Gail walked in together. Lesley sat back in her chair.
“Good to see the two of you. Have you been conferring?”
Johnny blushed and looked at Gail. “We just happened to get here at the same time.”
Lesley laughed. “It’s alright, Johnny. You’re allowed to walk into the building with a woman, you know. Even an older woman like Gail.”
Gail mock-punched Lesley’s shoulder. “Oi. You don’t know how old I am.”
Lesley smiled. “Sorry. So how are you both getting on?”
“Post-mortem was productive, boss,” said Johnny. “She’s got bruising on her upper arms, fingerprints.”
“Fingerprints?” said Lesley. “So now we know this isn’t an accidental death.”
She surveyed the rest of the team. “That makes what you’re all looking into that bit more urgent.”
“And there’s more,” said Johnny. “She had skin under her fingernails.”
“Fan-bloody-tastic,” said Lesley. She caught Dennis’s look. “Fan-flippin-tastic. Better?”
Denis grunted.
“So it’s been sent off to the lab? Analysed for DNA?”
“Yes, boss,” replied Johnny.
“I’ll follow up on that,” added Gail. “Meanwhile, I’ve got something else.”
“Go on,” said Lesley.
Gail sat down in Dennis’s chair. Dennis, standing behind Mike’s desk, gave her a look of disapproval. Gail shrugged and pulled out an evidence bag.
“So this is Ameena’s camera,” she said. She pulled out a smaller evidence bag. “And this is the SD card.”
“Photos?” Lesley said. “Please tell me you’ve got photos of her attacker.”
Gail flashed her eyes at Lesley. “Sort of.”
“Show me.”
Gail pulled a file out and opened it to reveal photographs. Images of the sky, the grass, the sea. All blurred.
“I reckon this is the moment she was picked up and thrown over the cliff. And then she must have turned, or at least turned the camera, because then there’s this.”
She flipped over the last photo. It was a silhouette of a hand against the sky.
“Good work.” Lesley bent over to get a better look.
She looked up at Gail. “It’s dark. I can’t tell if he’s wearing gloves.”
“Or she.”
“That’s a man,” said Johnny. “Look at the proportions of the fingers.”
Gail raised her eyebrows. Lesley caught her expression.
“Nice try, Johnny, but let’s not jump to conclusions. Can you get it enhanced?”
“I’ve already sent a copy to the digital forensics team,” replied Gail. “Hopefully they can give us a definitive answer.”
“Good,” said Lesley. “How long will that take?”
“Should get an answer tomorrow.”
“Let me know when you do.”
Dennis approached his chair, glaring at Gail as if trying to make her vacate it through sheer force of will. Gail stood up, flashing him a smile.
Lesley looked at her. “Well done. This will give us something to work with until we get the DNA analysis.”
Chapter Fourteen
Lesley’s mind wasn’t on the TV news, despite her face being no more than a couple of feet away from the screen in her poky living room. The top story in the local news had been Ameena’s death: library footage of Old Harry Rocks followed a reporter standing in Studland at the end of the path. They clearly hadn’t spoken to anybody involved in the crime, because they didn’t have anything to reveal. Mind you, nor do I, thought Lesley.
She thought back to the look on the face of Sam Chaston, Ameena’s PA, when she’d chased after her in the street. The woman had looked scared. More than Lesley would expect for a breach of employer confidentiality. And then there was Harry Nevin, his reluctance to engage with her questions about the case and about Ameena.
What was going on in that firm?
She switched off the TV and stood up, brushing her jeans down. She had someone she needed to talk to.
Ten minutes later, she sat at the bar of the Duke of Wellington, where Elsa occasionally helped out her brother, the landlord. Elsa was at the other end of the bar, serving two men, chatting to them. Her gaze flicked to Lesley from time to time, but she didn’t acknowledge her. Lesley waited, tapping her credit card on the bar.
At last, Elsa finished talking to the men and approached her.
“Hiya.” She reached out a hand and brushed Lesley’s.
Lesley smiled. “Hi. How’s things?”
Elsa shrugged. “Quiet night.”
“I don’t mean that. What about work? I imagine there’s a bit of an atmosphere.”
Elsa turned away, towards the till. She jabbed at it, her movements jerky.
“I don’t want to pry,” Lesley said. “But...”
Elsa turned to her. “D’you want a drink? Gin and tonic? Glass of red wine?”
Lesley frowned. “Red wine, please.”
“Coming up.” Elsa turned her back and poured out a glass. She placed it in front of Lesley, almost spilling the drink, and grabbed Lesley’s credit card. She turned away.
Lesley wondered what had happened to the woman who had brushed her hand affectionately just moments ago.
“Sorry El,” she said, “But it would be daft for me not to ask you about this. You’re a bloody partner at the firm.”
Elsa returned with the credit card machine. Lesley waved her card over it. Elsa grunted and turned away, returning it to the counter at the back of the bar.
“You know I can’t talk to you,” Elsa said, her back still to Lesley. “You of all people will understand about client confidentiality, and my loyalty to my firm.”
“Where were you today?” Lesley asked her.
Elsa rounded on her. “What do you mean, where was I? Who are you, my mum?”
Lesley felt her shoulders dip. “That’s not what I meant. I went to your firm. I looked for you. You
weren’t there.”
A couple had entered the pub. Elsa turned her attention to them, chatting and making a meal of taking their order. Lesley watched her, impatience thrumming through her body.
Don’t pressure her, she thought. Let her come to you in her own time.
But Lesley didn’t have time. This was a live murder case. Elsa might even be at risk.
Elsa finished serving the couple and walked to the far end of the bar, tea towel in hand. Lesley knew she didn’t need to clean anything. She watched her, waiting. When Elsa passed her, making for the crisps at Lesley’s end of the bar, Lesley put out her hand and grabbed Elsa’s fingers.
“Don’t do that,” Elsa said.
“Do your firm know about me?” Lesley whispered. “Do they know you’ve got a girlfriend?”
“So you’re my girlfriend now?” Elsa replied. “Last week you weren’t even sure if…”
“Nevin was weird with me. I’m not sure if that’s because of the case, that he was hiding something about Ameena, or if it’s because he knows about my connection to you.”
“Connection? Is that what it is?”
Lesley clenched her fist on the bar. “Bloody hell El, let’s not go round in circles. I know it’s awkward for you, but I just want some background. I want to know what Ameena was working on. What her home life was like.”
“She was a junior partner. I barely spoke to the woman.”
“It’s not that big a firm,” Lesley said. “Surely you worked with her on cases?”
Elsa shook her head. “Once or twice, maybe. Nothing major. I can’t help you, Lesley. You need to ask my colleagues. You need to do this officially.”
Lesley swallowed. “So who should I talk to? Harry Nevin has been no help.”
She considered telling Elsa about Ameena’s PA. But Elsa was a partner, and the PA was clearly scared of losing her job.
“Who can tell me what Ameena was working on, what her home life was like, whether she had enemies? And Nevin, is he the kind of man to hide something from the police?”
Elsa met Lesley’s gaze. “He’s my partner, Lesley. We’ve known each other for over ten years.” She sighed. “What are you expecting me to say? That he’s some dodgy dealer who’ll lie to the police?” She took a breath. “Of course I’m not. He’s a respected criminal lawyer, he’s got a good reputation.”
The Clifftop Murders (Dorset Crime Book 2) Page 6