Sacrifice

by Jay Nadal

  A constable came through the doors and headed over to Abby. He whispered into her ear to avoid disturbing Scott. Abby gave the officer a double take as she stared wide-eyed at the sheet of paper she’d just been handed.

  Abby raised her hands palms up to suggest, “What’s happening?” before Scott slammed the phone down and let out an almighty sigh as he stared towards the ceiling.

  “Guv?”

  “Darren Bartlett is from the Immigration Department at the Home Office. He made contact because he felt it was only right that we were informed of their intention to deport many of the families with failed asylum claims, regardless of whether they’re going through an appeals process or not.”

  Abby and Raj sank back in their chairs.

  “Apparently, there’s a family claiming sanctuary against being deported back to Sierra Leone, but their claim has been turned down, along with several South African families. His team gave them notice last week.”

  “What do we do, Guv?” Abby asked.

  “I disagreed with their ethics. The Home Office wants us to bring them out into the open because the families keep disappearing. And to cap it all off, the Home Office confirmed that the decision has been supported by the local MP, Alistair Woodman.”

  “The last thing we need is losing families that may be involved in our case. What if some of those deported are the ones missing their kids?”

  “Exactly, Abby.”

  “Well, our job just got a lot harder, Guv. A member of the public has just reported a body part washed up on the shore by Palace Pier. It appears to be a child’s left arm.”

  19

  The location couldn’t have been worse in Scott’s eyes. He stood by his car and scanned the scene. Palace Pier attracted visitors all year round, with over ten thousand visitors a day during peak season. Towards the end of summer, tourists and locals continued to flock to the Victorian pier. Had the location been deliberate, or had the body part washed up on shore from another location?

  He walked alongside the railings and looked down at the scene. “This is a just what the press needed,” he said as Abby looked around. Flocks of onlookers crammed shoulder to shoulder as they leant over the railings of the pier. They had a bird’s eye view looking down on the SOCOs in their white suits, foot covers, and masks. Scott watched as they bagged up the arm and conducted a detailed analysis of the stony beach. A large part of the beach had been cordoned off with blue and white police tape as a line of officers walked in line scouring the beach for any other body parts or evidence.

  “Do you think it’s one of ours?”

  Scott thought about Abby’s question, a limb popping up on shore didn’t scream random event to him. Child’s arm, dark-skinned, and they’ve got a child’s torso and legs in the morgue. Kind of like a criminal game of connect the dots.

  “What do you think?” Scott’s rhetorical question dripped with sarcasm. And a tinge of something else. Anger. A lunatic roamed the town and he hadn’t found him yet. But he would.

  “Why not dump it in a bin, or somewhere it couldn’t be found?”

  “Maybe they wanted us to find it unless it’s unconnected and came from a different part of the coastline.”

  “I’ll check with control for Sussex, but I’ll also check with Hampshire and Kent.”

  “Quick as you can please, Abby.”

  Helen and Raj had taken a statement from a Spanish couple who had discovered the limb tangled in some seaweed. At first, they thought it was a plastic limb from a mannequin, but the true horror of their discovery soon dawned upon them as they recoiled back in horror. The female’s high-pitched screams soon attracted a crowd of curious bystanders and the attention of Palace Pier security guards.

  “The limb was discovered little under an hour ago, Guv. As soon as the couple found it, the security team from the pier called it in. The couple were too shocked to do much. Thankfully, security contained the scene whilst waiting for the cavalry.”

  “Raj, can you look into the tides? They will help to determine if it’s been carried and washed up…or dumped. Helen, the pier has CCTV and there’s a camera slap bang in front of the pier. Grab a copy for the last twenty-four hours from both. Chances are this limb only appeared in the last few hours or overnight.”

  Both officers left as quickly as they’d arrived.

  Scott’s senses couldn’t help but feel taken by the surreality of the situation. His eyes picked out tourists visiting one of the most iconic locations in Brighton. The September sun warmed his face. Seagulls screeched and squawked in the thin wispy cirrus sky as they floated aloft, soaring towards the fluffy clouds. The familiar smell of greasy fish and chips soaked in vinegar wafted in the air. A forensic team examining a body part discovered on the shoreline.

  The wide-open public place only added to the curiosity, and shock hung in the minds of those gathered.

  From where Scott stood, he had a good view of the whole scene and didn’t need to go any further as a SOCO joined him. He was a well-built man that Scott had met on a few occasions, one of those thorough types. He took a job to the nth degree to ensure that he missed not even a scrap of evidence, and he completed documentation thoroughly. “Sir, we’ve contained the limb, and have conducted our preliminary search of the area. We are going to do a second sweep just to make sure. The sooner we can get it done, the sooner we can get away, and restore some normality around here.”

  Scott nodded his agreement. “What’s the condition of the limb?”

  “It’s been in the water at some point, and certainly for a few hours. There’s evidence of damage to the flesh more than likely caused by marine life, and some abrasions. I suspect they occurred because of it being scraped along the shoreline.”

  “Any idea of an approximate age?”

  “Young. From the size, you’re looking at somewhere between the ages of four and six, maybe seven. No older than that.”

  Scott thanked the SOCO. Until they did a DNA profile analysis, they wouldn’t be able to confirm whether it belonged to Michael.

  Within minutes of returning to the office, Meadows marched into Scott’s office. Scott’s head snapped up at the man’s plodding footsteps, and he wondered if his superior had planted a tracking device in his phone. Either that, or he possessed some warped sixth sense.

  “Does it look like the limb belongs to the dead boy?”

  Scott shrugged. “Possibly, Sir. It matches the age and race of Michael. We’ll have to wait for forensics to confirm.”

  Meadows stood by Scott’s desk and crossed his arms. A concerned look twisted his face as his lips tightened and his eyes narrowed. “The chief super had a call from CC Lennon. Lennon isn’t happy. He’s in a sticky spot. Alistair Woodman, MP is giving him grief about our team having a run-in with Home Office. Woodman thinks we’re interfering with the Home Office operation to deport illegals.”

  “Why is the CC worried?”

  Meadows half-waved a hand. “Woodman is a friend and acquaintance of the chief constable. They’ve met at social functions, police and local community events. I think the chief constable has met Woodman frequently in Parliament. Anyway, I think Woodman thinks we are obstructing their operation and should be more cooperative.”

  Scott clenched his teeth and felt his body tense. This appeared to be another example of how political influence interfered with police neutrality. “No disrespect, Sir, but we are not interfering. This is at least a murder investigation, but more likely abduction, torture, and ritualistic killing. That’s far more important than deciding whether someone needs to stay or remain in this country.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, Scott but…”

  Scott risked overstepping the mark when he interrupted Meadows. “So we can’t afford for them to wade in with their size tens. We’ve got a very small, frightened community of asylum seekers. We believe they hold the key to helping us identify who is responsible for Michael’s killing. We’ve got a very strong lead now. More importantly, our go-bet
ween, Dolores Carter, a support worker, is just gaining the trust of this community in order for us to interact with them. If the Home Office go in, it’s game over.”

  Meadows stiffened and pulled his shoulders back. “Scott, I admire your passion, and I understand your reasoning for speaking up. But don’t fucking interrupt me again.”

  Scott looked down for a moment. “Sorry, Sir, I didn’t mean to. I just hate it when someone up there tries to pull our strings.”

  Meadows nodded once. He turned, saying his parting words, “Just be careful, Scott. We don’t want to piss anyone else off.”

  Whenever Scott felt frustrated or annoyed, he’d escape from the office and grab a coffee or something to eat. It was his way of trying to defuse a situation and calm his often impatient thoughts.

  Once again, he’d sought sanctuary at Munch coffee shop. Whilst he sipped on a green tea, Abby sipped on her usual soya latte.

  “So is Meadows telling us to back off?”

  Scott shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. This Alistair Woodman is influential. It’s just a case of people knocking on each other’s doors. Barrett or Bartlett, or whatever he was called from the Home Office, is used to getting his own way. When I didn’t roll over, he got pissed off.”

  Scott took another sip before continuing. “He moaned to someone else above him, who moaned to someone above them, and before you know it, the local MP gets involved. The CC doesn’t want extra grief like that, so passes it back down the chain.”

  They paused a moment when the waitress turned up to give Abby her Spanish omelette, and Scott his Hot New Yorker melt.

  “So what are you going to do?” Abby asked.

  Scott thought for a moment as he juggled a piping hot bit of sandwich. The melted cheese lashed the roof of his mouth threatening to strip several layers of flesh. “We carry on. I think we need to move on this. The last thing we want is someone trying to shut us down.”

  “The families?”

  “I think we need to talk to them. We’ve got to try to get through to them. We need them to open up. We can appeal to them and tell them that we don’t want this happening with any other children from their families. If we can get through to them, we have a greater chance of gaining their trust.”

  20

  Scott and Abby had eaten half of their lunch when the call came in. With its close proximity to the police station, cafe staff were used to the police darting out of the door at a moment’s notice.

  Making their way out of town and heading north, Scott weaved in and out of the traffic as Abby clung on to the door handle with one hand, and received information on her phone in the other. Helen was there already and coordinating the scene until Scott’s arrival.

  An organised chaos would be how Scott would have described it as he pulled up. A wider outer cordon had been set up as a tape weaved in and out of trees. SOCOs were in the process of unloading equipment from the back of their white scientific services vans. Uniformed officers were rolling out of a personnel carrier and donning overalls. Helen stood beside the scene guard, PC Oju on this occasion. His tall dark figure cast an imposing presence over a large expanse of open ground that surrounded a wooded copse.

  “What have we got, Helen?”

  “Guv, we’ve got bloodied clothes in the woods beyond. They look like boy’s clothes. Young by the look of it. Beneath the clothes is a human hand.”

  “Who found it?”

  “A female jogger. She was following a trail through the woods, and saw a heap of clothes just by the side of the path. She stopped, took a look and called the police. Her name’s Abigail Porter and we’ve got her details. Uniform took a statement from her, and I’ve also spoken to her. She’s had to leave because she needs to pick up her little one from the nursery. But I told her we may need to speak to her again.”

  “We’ll take a look, so we know what we’re dealing with, and then leave forensics to do their initial assessment. See you got the dogs in?” Scott asked looking over Helen’s shoulder towards a large black German shepherd being harnessed by its handler. “Good call.”

  “Thanks, Guv.”

  Scott, Abby, and Helen signed into the scene log before kitting up in a white paper suits, foot covers, and blue gloves. Crunching leaves and snapping twigs were the only sounds that punctured the tranquillity of the wooded copse as they made their way along a path mapped out by the SOCO’s. They followed the line of police tape until the familiar sight of a white forensic tent loomed into view.

  A SOCO laid out the clothing as Scott peered into the tent. From his position, he could see a sweatshirt with a Transformers logo on it, a vest, and a pair of grey joggers. They were stained dark red. A macabre image of a child’s hand clung to him, stopping his breath for what felt like minutes.

  “Well that’s a right hand and the arm from the beach was a left. So if it all belongs to the same victim, were missing the rest of the right arm,” Abby remarked.

  That’s the same thought that Scott contemplated. Forensics had their work cut out.

  Scott walked around the area just as uniformed officers formed a line to begin a search of the ground. The shade of the wooded canopy offered a cooler ambient temperature which probably contributed to a lack of decomposition of the limb.

  The heavy panting of the search dog and the handler’s heavy footsteps jolted Scott from his thoughts. “Where shall we start, Guv?”

  Once the SOCO had allowed the K9 to have a sniff of the sweatshirt inside the clear evidence bag, the dog sniffed the floor as if sniffing for a hidden bone. “Merlin find,” his handler encouraged, as the dog criss-crossed the scene, looking up, before planting his nose just centimetres from the earthy floor. Scott watched the dog backtrack, stop, sniff and then move on.

  The action went from static to full speed in a blink of an eye. Merlin tugged on his extended lead and lurched forward. All the officers remained silent as Merlin and PC James Appleby did their work. They followed to avoid contaminating the scent. About thirty yards ahead, dog and handler both stopped. PC Appleby raised his hand to alert the team and called his dog to heel.

  Scott raced over, followed by Abby and Helen. The discovery left him silent.

  The headless body of a young black child lay on the ground. His body discarded like an empty sweet wrapper. A lame attempt had been made to cover the body with handfuls of leaves and broken twigs.

  A mixture of grief and frustration left the three officers silent. Scott nodded in the direction of PC Appleby to confirm that he could continue his search, in case any other items were discovered. The magnitude of the investigation escalated in Scott’s mind. “Helen, can you inform Dr Hall that we need her here immediately?”

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Abby hinted.

  “Sizani and Musa’s boy?”

  “Likely, I would think. He’s been missing a few days. Fits into the same age group. I dread to think of breaking the news to them.”

  Scott rubbed the back of his neck to relieve the tension. His head pounded, and it felt like two sides of a vice slamming together. “Once we’ve had confirmation from Cara, I’ll drive by with a FLO and tell them we found a body.”

  Abby shook her head in disbelief. Despite the body being partially covered, from where they stood, she could make out the significance of the wounds that had been inflicted on the poor boy.

  Not had only both arms been removed, but there was a large gaping hole where his genitalia had been removed. Abby closed her eyes. She felt her mouth water as bile raced up her throat, her stomach heaved and lurched in reply. She swallowed hard and took a few steps back, looking away. The faintest sign of a tremor rippled through her body as she shivered.

  Nothing could prepare her, or any officer for the sights they had to witness. The most violent of deaths, the most horrific of scenes were laid bare for them to investigate. No human being should have to witness what they saw on a daily basis, and this crime scene ranked up there as one of the most heinous acts a hu
man being could inflict upon another.

  Scott turned to look back at Abby asking, “Are you okay?”

  Abby waved away his question, unable to stomach the situation any further. She turned, and headed back out of the copse.

  Matt, the crime scene manager, joined Scott. “You think you’ve seen it all, and then you see this.” He shook his head in disbelief.

  “Tell me about it. Have your team found anything yet?”

  “Nothing here. We got a leafy floor making analysis harder. The ground is dry, so the chances of finding any footsteps are slim. We’re scanning the floor for any traces of blood, as well as fibres. I think the team will be here for a while, now that we’ve got two sites to examine. I’ll get this area taped off, and a second tent set up.”

  “Keep me informed of any developments.”

  Matt raised his hand in confirmation as he wandered back to the first crime scene.

  In Scott’s mind, the discovery of a second dismembered body confirmed the two crimes were connected.

  As Scott headed back to his car, two thoughts crossed his mind. The Whitehawk estate was within walking distance, and the area that the children played in, was no more than a few hundred yards away. The nature of their deaths, their backgrounds, and circumstances, left no doubt in Scott’s mind that they were victims of muti killings.

  Scott had hardly paused for breath before he made a beeline for Meadows’s office. Knocking louder than he should have, Meadows waved him in with a stern face.

  “I heard about the second body. Is it connected to the ongoing case?”

  Scott nodded. “I’m certain, Sir. Both boys were victims of muti killings. I think there is a pressing need for an appeal. Mike’s just pulled in one suspect who we believe may be an accessory to both murders. We’re confident that we’ve identified a second suspect who may be involved. I believe a press appeal could help. I really do. We need more eyes looking for this character.”