by Helen Phifer
He nodded. ‘You might be right, but I don’t think they’d confess to tattooing minors to a copper. It’s not going to help them with their licence, is it?’ Josh took out his work phone and snapped a couple of photos of the girl’s face now that she’d been cleaned up.
‘It also looks as if she’s had a serious attempt at committing suicide. That is a major scar on her arm; it would have required hospital treatment to stem the bleeding.’
She turned back to the body to see the last of the mud being washed away, though it took some time before the water began to run clean. Satisfied, she held her hand up for Abe to stop. ‘Thanks, Abe, that should be enough.’
Now the body was clean, she began the painstaking task of recording every injury, though there weren’t many, noting the size, shape, pattern and location of each external wound. Satisfied she’d documented them all, she stepped to one side to let Claire photograph them and the rest of her body. Under the glare of the florescent strip lights, with all the mud washed away, she looked much younger than Beth had initially anticipated. Her skin was so pale under the harsh lighting.
Who did this to you, and why you? How did they choose you, was it someone you knew or did some stranger come along in the middle of the night and steal you away?
She looked at Josh, her eyes pleading. ‘Where are her parents? A girl this age, surely someone would be missing her. She’s been gone at least eight, maybe nine weeks. If no one has reported her missing then maybe she had no one that cared?’
Josh turned to Sam in response. ‘It’s possible she was in care, let’s hope Sykes and Bell have found where her placement was. I’ve emailed them some pictures.’
‘It doesn’t look as if there’s been a sexual assault, but I’d rather take the samples and rule it out.’ She began to comb through the girl’s pubic hair to secure any foreign or loose hairs before plucking several from the root to be examined more closely. Abe handed her swabs and she deftly began to take oral, nasal, vaginal and anal samples for further examination. When she’d finished those she began to examine the exterior of the scalp for any injuries hidden by the hair. Feeling her way around it and looking closely she couldn’t see anything. Lifting the girl’s eyelids wide open she studied them. ‘I can’t find any telltale signs of petechiae in the conjunctivae.’
Sam looked confused. Beth realised and smiled at her. ‘What I mean is there are no signs of manual asphyxia, it’s a pathological condition. Tiny haemorrhages in the form of specks are seen lining the inner surface of the eyelids and on the mucous membrane.’
Beth continued checking the girl’s ear canals for any evidence of haemorrhaging, then looked again, now the dirt was washed away, at the interior of her mouth, lips and cheeks to see if there were any signs of trauma.
After a while, she stood up and stretched, signalling to Abe silently that it was time to cut. He passed her a scalpel and she made her first incision, right across the head. There was a sudden loud clatter as Carl fell to the floor beside her, and his camera bounced off the metal leg of the steel trolley as he fell against the table holding all the items of clothing. Josh looked at him in horror.
‘Oh shit, he’s passed out.’
Abe pulled off his gloves and plastic apron as he ran over to him, ready to drag him out of the mortuary. Beth paused, completely unfazed, the scalpel dangling mid-air.
‘Someone get him out of here.’
Josh grabbed one arm and Abe the other, and between them they managed to drag him out and into the corridor.
Sam shrugged. ‘Men.’
Beth smiled at her. ‘He’s not the first one.’
‘You can continue, Doc, I’m okay with it.’
Beth nodded. ‘Claire, are you okay to do both wet and dry exhibits?’
‘I am. Sam can always lend a hand.’
‘Thank you.’
She carried on, completing the incision and pulling back the scalp to expose the cranium. She stole a glance at Sam, who was staring at the body, calm and collected, so she continued.
Twenty-Eight
Annie opened her eyes. Her teeth were chattering it was so cold. Why was it still so dark? Surely she’d been asleep for a while. Her mouth was even rougher than before. She had to get up for a drink whether her head could handle it or not. On the count of three she pushed herself up and hit her head on a hard, rough ceiling. ‘Argh.’ Lifting her hand to her head, she rubbed it hard, to ease the throbbing inside. She had no idea where she was or what was going on. Lifting her hands, she felt the rough surface above her and whispered, ‘What the hell?’ Then she tried to move onto her side and realised she was in a confined space. Her stomach lurched as terror took over; she had no idea where she was or how long she’d been in here. Just then she heard someone moving around somewhere in the dark, and she began to scream and cry for help until her voice had gone hoarse and it was hard to breathe.
Help didn’t arrive. Whoever it was sneaking around knew she was in there and didn’t care. Some bastard had put her here in the first place. She’d been so cold when she’d woken up, but now she was too hot; it was stuffy and getting harder to breathe. How was that possible? Her mind was spinning. She was inside a box, it seemed. But who would want to put her in here, why would they? It didn’t make any sense.
‘It’s just a joke. Any moment, Estelle or Gary will appear and let me out. They have to,’ she whispered to herself.
Trying once more to push open the lid of the box she was in, she found it was too heavy and wouldn’t move. She lay back trying not to breathe too deeply, knowing she needed to conserve the oxygen. A voice in her head whispered, you’re going to die here, no one is coming to help you. A ball of air lodged itself into her lungs: she needed to open her mouth and scream to expel it and she couldn’t. She was slowly suffocating and there wasn’t anything she could do. The panic exploded from her chest as she let out a high-pitched scream and began clawing, then scratching at the heavy panel above her head. She felt her acrylic nails begin to snap and tear off, but she didn’t care despite the pain which was hot and intense. It hurt like crazy, but it meant that she was alive, so she carried on beating, hitting, punching, scratching and pushing it with every last bit of strength. Annie knew she’d rather die fighting than lie there and do nothing.
Twenty-Nine
Estelle watched the officer’s face as he wrote down everything she said in his notebook, looking for signs he didn’t believe her. He was nodding away and interrupting her with questions, serious questions about the CCTV system and how easy it was to gain access to the staff quarters. She answered him as honestly as she could. Eventually, he shut his book.
‘Can you show me Annie’s room?’
‘Of course.’
She led him through the hotel to the staff stairs near to the kitchen, and he followed her down there, looking around. The smell of stale, sweaty feet still lingered in the air, and she frowned.
‘Sorry, it’s a bit rank down here. Too many men, not enough air fresheners.’
He laughed. ‘Smells like the locker room at work. So, what do you think has happened to Annie?’
She reached her door and turned to look at him. ‘I don’t know, but she just wouldn’t up and leave like this. She was too drunk for a start, and since she started working here she’s never missed a shift.’
‘Not even when she’s hungover?’
Estelle shook her head. ‘Definitely not; we’ve struggled through them together. Look, I know she’s an adult and not vulnerable or anything like that, but something’s wrong. I just wish I knew what it was. She’s either gone out drunk and had an accident, or…’
‘Or?’
‘Is kidnapping an actual thing here in the Lake District?’
‘You’re being serious; you think she’s been kidnapped?’
‘Maybe not kidnapped, what’s the other thing?’
‘Abducted?’
She nodded her head fervently. ‘Yes, abducted.’
‘By who?’
/> ‘I don’t know; you’re the policeman, aren’t you supposed to be able to figure that one out?’
She pushed open Annie’s door and flicked on the light switch.
He stood on the threshold and looked around: the bed was unmade and there was the bucket tipped over on the floor next to it. A brand-new iPhone was lying on the bed; the curtains were drawn. He pulled a pair of bright blue latex gloves from the pocket of his body armour and tugged them on.
‘You stay here, whilst I look around.’
She felt slightly better now that he was taking her seriously. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have put on the gloves. Her stomach was still a mass of churning knots, but it made her feel hopeful that she was doing the right thing.
He walked around the room then stopped and bent down to look at something on the floor underneath the far side of the bed. She watched as his face registered alarm and felt her heart begin to race. What had he found? What was he looking at that she hadn’t seen? He stood up and walked towards her, pulling the door shut.
‘I need this door locking now and no one is to come back inside here. Do you understand?’
She nodded. ‘Why?’
He ignored her and began to talk into the radio clipped onto his body armour. She didn’t understand a lot of what he was saying, but she caught the words ‘CID’, ‘get the DS to call me now’ and ‘I need a CSI as soon as possible…’
The worry she’d felt before was nothing compared to how fast her heart was racing now. Her anxiety had just reached a whole new level.
Thirty
Carl opened his eyes, blinked several times then realised where he was. ‘Oh shit, I didn’t?… Josh, I’m sorry, I’ve been feeling a bit rough since I got up. I just looked at that scalpel slicing into her skin and can’t remember anything else.’
Josh handed him a bottle of cola he’d got from the vending machine down the hall.
‘It’s fine. Do you want to go to A&E to get checked out?’
‘No, God no. I’m okay, I’ll be fine.’
Abe had gone back in to help Beth, so only Josh remained to offer Carl his hand and pull him to his feet.
‘Well you don’t look fine; you look like shit. Claire can finish off the photography and Sam can be exhibits officer. Sykes is on her way to pick you up and take you home. No arguments.’
Carl nodded, and Josh felt sorry for him. ‘I’ve told her to pick you up from the rear entrance to the mortuary, so you don’t have to walk all the way through the hospital. Is that okay?’
‘Thanks, Josh, I really am sorry.’
Josh left him sitting on a chair sipping at the bottle of sugary cola, needing to get back inside and see if he’d missed anything. He walked in and heard a sucking noise: talk about bad timing. He looked to see Beth tugging the girl’s brain gently out of her skull and wondered if he should have waited a little bit longer. He didn’t like this part, or the sound when the ribs were cracked open with a pair of pruning shears to remove the breast plate. He shuddered; how Beth did this every day then went home and slept at night amazed him. Then again, how did he do what he did and sleep at night? According to Jodie he slept too well and snored most of the night. Just thinking about her made his nerves jangle; she’d started screaming at him this morning before he’d even had the chance to warm his bowl of Shredded Wheat up in the microwave. He didn’t know what to do to save their marriage; he’d tried everything; he’d been willing to try anything, but now he didn’t know if Jodie even wanted him to try.
‘How’s Carl? Hello? Earth to Josh – don’t you go fainting on me now!’
He turned to face Beth and realised both she and Sam were staring at him.
‘He’s okay, Sykes is coming to pick him up and take him home. Sorry, I was thinking.’
Sam laughed. ‘Don’t, it’s a dangerous game, boss.’
He smiled at her, then turned his attention to the table and watched as Beth methodically finished the rest of the post-mortem. She’d taken a variety of samples from the various organs and tissues of the body, and Abe was in the process of stuffing a bag containing the girl’s organs back inside her abdominal cavity, ready to be sewn back up. It was brutal and sad, there was no doubt about it.
‘There are no obvious signs of injury apart from the self-inflicted damage to her fingers which look as if she tried to claw her way out of an enclosed space. I’m not the expert, but there are minute traces of something green under her nails. I checked the bottom of the coffin she was buried under and there are no splinters of wood, signs of damage from scratching or any sign of plant life or moss. She has to have tried to claw her way out of somewhere for her to rip her fingernails off like she has, but I don’t think it was from underneath the coffin. I think she died from asphyxiation due to a lack of oxygen in a confined space. We’ll know for sure once the blood results are back; there’s a simple test they can do which will confirm the measure of carbon monoxide in the blood. If it comes back at more than three per cent, it’s a definite.’
‘So, she was put in a confined space and suffocated to death?’
‘Yes. I don’t think the burial site was the primary scene, Josh.’
Josh turned to Sam. ‘Do we think she was put into a wooden box, a crate, maybe a coffin and left to die? But where, and why remove her from that to put her into the grave?’
‘I don’t know, maybe it was easier to hide her body that way. It’s pretty hard to disguise a box or a coffin.’
‘Who has access to wooden boxes, crates or coffins and the facilities to store and transport dead bodies?’
They all spoke at the same time.
‘Undertakers.’
‘Beth, does it say on the paperwork which funeral home dealt with Florence’s funeral?’
She stripped off her gloves and apron. ‘Let me go and check, I’m pretty sure it was Dean & Sons.’
Josh could feel a whole multitude of questions bursting through his mind. His phone began to ring; he saw Sykes’s name on the screen, and he put his phone on to loudspeaker.
‘Boss, you’re in luck. We were just about to leave Dalton View when I got that email you sent. I showed it to the staff, and we have a positive ID on the tattoos. The girl is Chantel Price. Staff from Dalton View, a place that provides support to help young people about to transition to live independently once they reach eighteen, have identified her. Her caseworker has agreed to come down and do the official ID.’
‘When was the last time they saw her, and why did they not report her missing?’
‘They last saw her around six p.m. on the second of May. She walked out with her suitcase and a backpack. They said she’d refused to stay there any longer and got picked up by a male in a car. She would have been eighteen on the third of May, so she was leaving the home the next day and had refused any further help. They didn’t think there was much point in reporting her as missing when she was legally entitled to leave the next day anyway.’
‘You’re kidding me; do they know who the male was or what car he was driving?’
‘Staff said they’ve seen him a couple of times, Chantel referred to him as “J”, driver of a white Astra, registration number JAZ 1991.’
Josh knew what she was going to say next; hopefully she’d already run the reg through the police national computer.
‘It PNCs to Jason Thompson of 13 Seabreeze Walk.’
He nodded. A gravedigger was almost as good as an undertaker.
Thirty-One
Josh sprinted to his car. He needed to get back to Kendal as soon as possible. Paton wasn’t picking up his phone. Was he was tied up? He hoped he wasn’t avoiding him because he hadn’t managed to catch up with Jason Thompson like he’d told him to earlier. He had a sinking feeling it might be the latter; he knew that Paton wouldn’t want to let the team down and would be blaming himself. Sam offered to drive so he could keep phoning, and he tossed the keys in her direction. As they left the hospital grounds his phone rang, and he answered it, praying it was Paton.
‘Walker, where are you?’ He recognised Smithy’s voice: one of the patrol sergeants and a close friend. ‘Just leaving FGH; why are you phoning off a work phone?’
‘I’ve just had an interesting conversation with Mickey: control sent him to a call-out to a missing hotel worker that came in over an hour ago in Bowness. Her boss took him down to her bedroom in the staff quarters located in the basement. Says he found something under the bed that you’re going to want to see ASAP.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like a photograph of a dead girl with three bloodied fingernails placed on top of it…’
Josh felt a wave of bile rise from his stomach all the way up his throat, burning every inch of the way. ‘I need a photo of the scene sent to me now.’
‘Already done it, mate. I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I suggest you get there as soon as you can. Mickey has the scene on lockdown, and I’ve sent a couple of PCSOs to guard the entrance and exits into the hotel. I’m on my way down there now, because apparently the owner has turned up and not very happy the police are crawling all over the place on a busy Monday afternoon.’
‘Thanks, Smithy, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Is there a dog handler on?’
‘Already been requested and on his way from Carlisle.’
The phone went dead, and Josh looked at Sam. ‘Did you get the gist of that?’
She nodded.
‘It’s another victim, it has to be. He’s liking the attention and wants more. Would Jason Thompson be that bold though? I got the impression he was a bit of a wide boy, maybe dabbling in drugs, selling a bit of class B here and there. He doesn’t strike me as the type to abduct two women and play games with the police.’
Opening up the glove compartment he pulled his airwave radio out and switched it on, needing to get hold of Paton and see where the hell he was. The radio on the other end rang out: no answer.