Corpse Road

by David J Gatward

  Rebecca’s expression remained impassive. ‘Those balls were shot at the victim by someone using an airsoft gun, who then went on to kill her with a single thrust of a long-bladed knife through her throat. Whatever they think they are, they’re a killer.’

  Harry was quiet for a moment, then asked, ‘What’s the range of one of these guns?’

  ‘From what we know, they can reach well over a hundred metres,’ Rebecca said. ‘But at a greatly reduced velocity and accuracy. The shooter would have had to have been considerably closer to cause these bruises.’

  ‘How close?’ Jim asked.

  ‘Thirty, perhaps forty metres?’ answered Rebecca.

  Harry stood up and walked over to the board, his eyes on the photographs. ‘The legal limit is five hundred fps, right?’

  ‘Yes.’ Rebecca nodded.

  ‘So, what if the gun used was over the legal limit? What then?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I mean,’ Harry said, ‘that if there’s a legal limit to these things, then clearly they can be made more powerful, right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have a limit imposed. The whole point is to outlaw anything that’s deemed too powerful, too dangerous.’

  ‘It’s the same with air rifles,’ Jim said. ‘The legal limit is twelve-foot pounds. If you want something more powerful, then the rifle is classed as a firearm and you need a firearms licence.’

  ‘You serious?’ Jadyn asked. ‘Aren’t air rifles just for knocking cans over in a back garden?’

  Jim shook his head. ‘No, they’re not. And the ones I have back on the farm certainly aren’t, that’s for sure.’

  Harry turned to Rebecca and asked, ‘How far did the SOC team search around the site?’

  ‘We searched everything that was cordoned off,’ she replied. ‘And we did a sweep of the wider area.’

  ‘By how much?’ Harry asked. ‘How much wider exactly?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Rebecca answered. ‘Twenty, maybe thirty metres. We didn’t find anything.’

  Harry faced the team. ‘Meeting’s over. We need to move.’

  Swift sprung to his feet, confusion and irritation in his eyes. ‘Why? What are you doing, Grimm? What’s going on? This briefing isn’t finished!’

  ‘I think our killer was out there waiting for Kirsty,’ Harry said. ‘And I think they were far enough away to take potshots at her without any chance of being seen.’

  ‘But why do that?’ Swift asked. ‘If our killer is playing at being a soldier, then what do you expect to find?’

  ‘I don’t think he was playing at being a soldier at all, sir,’ Harry said. ‘In fact, I would go so far as to say that there was no playing involved. This was serious. Deadly so.’

  ‘And what do you mean by that?’

  ‘I mean,’ Harry said, ‘that I think our killer believes he’s not just a soldier, but a sniper . . .’

  Chapter Twenty

  The moors were no less beautiful for the horror they’d witnessed two nights ago. And yet Harry was sure that the place where they’d found Kirsty felt sadder, almost as though some memory of it had been recorded by the natural world. And perhaps it had, he thought—an echo of her last moments, the ghost of her last breath still dancing around the drystone walls, bracken, and heather, searching for somewhere to rest. Though he doubted there would be any rest, not until the killer was found.

  ‘It’s a shame Detective Superintendent Swift isn’t with us,’ Matt said, coming to stand alongside Harry. The day was racing on already and lunchtime had already come and gone. The rest of the team were making their way over to them after the walk up the gill from Gunnerside. Fly was with them and clearly loving every moment of being out in the hills in the fresh air.

  ‘You don’t mean that,’ Harry said.

  ‘You’re right, I don’t. What gave it away?’

  ‘He’s still our senior officer,’ Harry said. ‘So, a word to the wise, no matter how pissed off that man makes you, don’t let him know, and absolutely make sure you don’t let the rest of the team know. Dissent is easy to spread and hard to get rid of.’

  ‘Fair point, boss,’ Matt said. ‘Apologies. Now, what are we on with?’

  Harry waited for the others to join them. When they did, Jim dropped down and twisted a metal spike into the ground to which he attached Fly’s lead.

  ‘That’ll keep him out of trouble while we get on,’ Jim said.

  Harry gestured with a nod to where Kirsty had been found, then pulled out a file which Rebecca had given him before heading off. It contained printouts of the photos taken of the scene, though the files themselves had been uploaded to the cloud. He held up one of the photos, which showed the open tent, the stove just inside.

  ‘To answer our detective sergeant’s question,’ Harry began, ‘we’re here to catch a hunter because I think that’s what we’re dealing with.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Jim asked.

  ‘Exactly what I just said,’ Harry replied. ‘I think the killer approached this like a hunter, someone stalking their prey. So we’re here to get into that mindset. And that means seeing it not just from the killer’s perspective, but the victim’s as well. His prey.’

  ‘Not sure I quite understand,’ Jim said.

  ‘You’re not alone on that one,’ muttered Jen.

  ‘Right,’ Harry said, clapping his hands together. ‘Looking at the photos, the tent is here and facing that way.’ He pointed out into the blanket of vibrant green bracken before them ‘So, by my reckoning, the only way the killer could have landed any shots at all inside the tent would be if they were lying out in that direction somewhere. So, that’s where we’re going to look.’

  ‘And what are we looking for, exactly?’ Jen asked.

  ‘A scrape,’ Harry said, then remembered he wasn’t talking to a bunch of squaddies. ‘What I mean, is that you’re looking for an area that’s been carefully scraped out of the ground so that a soldier can hide in it. Probably only about a foot deep.’ Harry looked out to where he was telling them to look. ‘There are a few thicker areas out there, so have a look in those, too. You might find that he’s used a bung to block up his entrance into it. That’s where you cut your way into the bush or undergrowth you want to hide in, then tie that clump together, probably with green paracord, then pull it in behind you.’

  ‘You sound like you know what you’re talking about,’ Jadyn said.

  ‘Once a Para always a Para.’ Harry smiled grimly. ‘Right, spread out, and let’s see if we can’t find at least something out there, eh?’

  Back at the community centre, PCSO Liz Coates rolled her motorbike to a stop, heel kicked the stand down onto the tarmac, then swung herself off. Finding the building locked, she pulled out her set of keys and was quickly inside and through to where the team had been earlier that day. The air was still rich with the aroma of tea and she quickly got on with making herself a brew. As she did so, she stood at the board and worked her way through the evidence so far presented. She may have been away, but the others had all kept her up to date with what had happened, particularly Jim, who saw it as some kind of PCSO loyalty to be the one to share as much information as possible with his colleague.

  Tea brewed, Liz went back to the board. She knew where the others were, but on Harry’s instruction upon hearing she was back early, had headed into Hawes to be at the centre. That way, they could be sure to have a police presence should anything come in from Swift, such as news about the husband’s whereabouts, or if something not to do with the murder investigation needed to be dealt with. And that could mean anything from the proverbial cat up a tree to a domestic disturbance or traffic incident. She was also there to receive the evidence from the crime scene, and she made sure that was all locked up good and proper in the designated temporary storage room. As she locked the door, she tried to recall the last time it had been used but couldn’t. In fact, she was pretty sure that the last time it was used had been to store booze for the Christmas party last year.
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  A knock at the door caught Liz’s attention and she glanced over to see a face she recognised standing there, waving.

  ‘Hiya, Dave!’ Liz said, opening the door. ‘And what can I do for you, then?’

  Dave Calvert stood in the doorway, dapperly dressed in tweed trousers and waistcoat. He’d been the first person to welcome Harry into the community centre on the day the DCI had arrived up north. When he wasn’t in Hawes he was out working offshore, earning good money for being stuck on a rig in the middle of the sea.

  ‘Is Harry around?’ Dave asked. ‘I’ve just got back and said I’d pop in and see if he was up for a pint, like.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Liz said. ‘Rest of the team’s out at the moment, but I’ll tell him you called.’

  Dave nodded his thanks but hesitated in the doorway before leaving.

  ‘Is there something else?’ Liz asked.

  ‘I don’t know, to be honest,’ Dave said, ‘and I’m probably just being daft, but . . .’

  ‘But what?’ Liz pressed, picking up the concern in Dave’s voice.

  ‘Well, you see, the thing is, I went round to Harry’s before coming here, like,’ Dave explained. ‘And I’m not usually suspicious, but I’m pretty sure . . . no, you’ll think I’m daft, that I’ve been watching too much TV.’

  ‘Get to the point, Dave,’ Liz said. ‘Come on, out with it.’

  Liz could see that the big man was clearly uncomfortable, but whatever he’d seen had been enough to bring him here, so she wanted to know exactly what it was.

  ‘Two men,’ Dave said. ‘In a car.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, there were two men in a car!’ Dave repeated. ‘Just sitting there. And I’m sure they were keeping an eye on Harry’s place.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They were staring at me when I walked past and over to his door,’ Dave said. ‘And they were staring when I left.’

  ‘Could be anything,’ Liz said. ‘Tourists just being nosy, probably.’

  ‘They didn’t look like tourists,’ Dave said. ‘And don’t go saying something like, “And what do tourists look like?” because you know what I mean, right?’

  Liz wasn’t sure that she did, exactly, but nevertheless, she smiled at Dave and said, ‘Tell you what, I’ll go and have a look. How’s that sound?’

  Dave shook his head. ‘I’m not sure.’

  Liz saw the concern in the man’s eyes. ‘I’ll be fine. It’s a bright afternoon, what are they going to do?’

  ‘Well, you just be careful,’ Dave said. ‘Oh, and you’ll pass on my message to Harry, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course, I will,’ Liz said following Dave out of the community centre and locking up behind her.

  Walking down through the marketplace, which being a Sunday was a little quieter than usual, Liz hoped that the team was okay. From what she’d been told, the murder had been brutal. She couldn’t say that she was looking forward to getting involved, because that just sounded wrong, but she was definitely keen to be a part of the investigation.

  Approaching Harry’s flat, Liz looked around to see if she could spot the car Dave had mentioned. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but then, just ahead, she saw it—a non-descript saloon and its shadowy interior hiding the two occupants from view.

  Liz was stuck for what to do. She had no real reason to go over and speak to them, and if they were in any way dodgy, then what she really needed to do was to speak to Harry about it, but he wasn’t exactly available.

  With little other choice, Liz decided that the best thing to do was to, first of all, take a walk past the car and make her way over to the front door of Harry’s flat, then turn around and walk past again. If anything was up, then perhaps she would notice. It was probably nothing, but as a PCSO she knew her role was to show that the police were there for the communities they served, and right there and then, that’s exactly what she was doing. And if a few folks saw her around, then that was all for the better, wasn’t it?

  As Liz walked towards the car, her mind decided to race ahead with all kinds of calamitous happenings, from her being jumped and thrown into the boot and taken hostage, to the two men jumping out, all guns blazing, riddling her with bullets. Passing the car, she had to work hard to make sure she didn’t speed up, because she thought that might just give it away that she was watching them. When she reached Harry’s door, she decided a bit of amateur dramatics might add to the whole thing, so she quickly rapped a knuckle against the door, waited, did it again, then walked away, working hard to look disappointed.

  Leaving Harry’s flat behind, Liz walked back the way she’d come. She had the car’s number plate now, so that was something that she could check on later. Then, just when she thought everything was fine, she cast a look over to the car and caught both men staring at her.

  She froze, her eyes locked on the two faces glaring at her from inside the car. Then, as she made to move away, she heard the car’s engine kick into life, and watched as the driver swung the vehicle out from where it was parked and onto the road. Slowly, he drove it in a wide circle around her, all the while never taking his eyes off her. Then, when he was facing the opposite way, he moved off. And far too slowly, Liz thought, deliberately almost. She was sure that she could still feel his eyes on her, even as the car disappeared out of sight.

  Back at the community centre, Liz took out her notebook, jotted down what she’d seen, including the number plate, the car model, and the number of occupants. She then tried to ring Harry, but there was no answer, so she left a message. She then let out a breath that she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding.

  When a knock came at the office door, she screamed.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘So what exactly are we looking at here, then?’ Matt asked. ‘Because right now I’m seeing nowt, if I’m honest. And by nowt, what I actually mean is bugger all.’

  Afternoon had turned its head to early evening and Harry had kept the team out longer than he should have. They’d stuck at it despite getting a little bit grumpy, but that was fair enough, and it had paid off in the end. He just needed to show them how, exactly, and to get them thinking as a team. There was also a message on his phone from Liz, but he would check that in a bit. It obviously wasn’t that important, he thought, or she would have called again or phoned one of the others.

  ‘This,’ Harry explained, crouching on the ground and pointing just in front of him, ‘is a scrape.’

  ‘You mentioned that earlier,’ Jim said. ‘But what’s a scrape when it’s at home? Can’t say it looks like much from here.’

  With the team gathered around, they stared down at where he was pointing, which was a shallow hole, probably no longer than eight foot in length.

  ‘As you can see,’ Harry explained, ‘it’s just long enough for someone to hide in, with whatever gear they’re carrying. Anyone who happened to be walking close by wouldn’t spot them. Not unless they got close enough to pretty much trip over them, that is.’ He looked closer at the shallow trench. ‘This one’s been used a fair bit as well,’ he said. ‘You can tell by the dead bracken in the bottom of it, the way the edges are all worn smooth.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Jen asked.

  ‘It means that whoever made this didn’t just use it on Friday night,’ Harry explained. ‘They’ve been coming up here a lot, and for a good while, I’d say. Recceing the area, getting to know it.’

  The scrape was further hidden by the heather which surrounded it, purple and bright under the increasingly low sun, almost as though it was leading the way back home and trying to get there first.

  ‘So, you think that our killer was right here?’ Jen asked. ‘Lying in wait for Kirsty?’

  ‘That I do,’ Harry said, then laid himself down in it. ‘See? Fits me easily. Something like this you can stay out of sight, get eyes on your target. It’s not exactly comfortable, but soldiering isn’t supposed to be.’

  ‘Soldiering?’ Jadyn said. �
�You think that’s what we’re dealing with here, a professional soldier?’

  Harry twisted his head up to answer Jadyn’s question. ‘Now that, I don’t know. But what we’ve got is evidence that whoever did it, is certainly going about this like someone who is.’

  ‘Wait,’ Jim said, staring at his boss, concern in his eyes. ‘What about evidence? Isn’t this part of the crime scene? And if so, aren’t you damaging it?’

  Harry rolled onto his side to look up at Jim. ‘Yes, it is, and if there’s one thing we’ve learned so far it’s that our killer has left sod all for us to find. They’re good, they know what they’re doing, and they’ve made pretty damned sure there’s no contamination from them anywhere at all.’

  ‘So, what are you doing, then?’ Matt asked, staring down at the DCI.

  ‘Trying to get into his head,’ Harry explained. ‘In fact . . .’ He climbed out of the scrape. ‘Matt?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Get in.’

  ‘You mean get down there on the ground?’

  ‘Yes,’ Harry said. ‘I want everyone to see this from the perspective of both the killer and the victim, or should I say the hunter and the prey. We need to think about what must have been going through their minds, what preparation the killer must have done to even get to this point. And what it was like for Kirsty.’

  ‘I can do that standing up,’ Matt said, resisting Harry’s request. ‘I don’t need to climb into a hole.’

  ‘It wasn’t a request,’ Harry advised, his expression steely-eyed. Then he jabbed a fat thumb at the scrape. ‘So, you’ll be doing it lying down. Get in. Now.’

  Grumbling a little, Matt eased himself down to his knees, then slowly slid himself into the hole.

  ‘You’re making some brilliant old man sounds,’ Jim said.

  ‘And you’ll make some brilliant young man ones when I get up out of here and give you a slap,’ Matt replied, stretching out as Harry had done earlier. ‘Now what?’

  ‘Now,’ Harry instructed, ‘I want you to look over to where Kirsty had pitched her tent. The rest of you? Follow me.’