Marks followed him over and knelt down beside the poor girl. She only looked young, maybe late teens or early twenties at the most. What a waste of life, he thought as he fingered his goatee again.
“Look here,” Chris said and pointed at the throat on the left hand side. “See these two puncture wounds crusted over with blood? Have you seen anything like that before? I certainly haven’t.”
Marks shrugged. “Could they be insect bites? Or a snake bite?”
“I’m not about to completely rule it out, but I don’t think so. We’ve taken some swabs of them, and the autopsy should tell all of us a lot more than what we can determine on site here.”
Marks eyed the naked form, his eyes resting for a brief moment on her completely shaved vagina. “Was she sexually assaulted?”
“We did find traces of semen in the vaginal cavity and on the quilt, but that doesn’t prove she was raped. She may have had consensual sex just prior to the murder, most likely with the perpetrator himself. We’ve taken swabs and put a rush on DNA profiling. He might show up in the system somewhere.”
“Hopefully. It’ll sure make my job a lot easier.” Marks rose to his full height of five feet, nine. “Bag her up,” he said.
Two other SOCOs placed the corpse carefully into a body bag and zipped it up. The bag was then placed on a trolley and wheeled up to a waiting van that belonged to the government contracted funeral director, who would then transport it to the mortuary. Another pair of forensic team members stuffed the pink quilt into a large black plastic bag and labeled it.
“You know,” Chris mused, “she may not have been murdered. Could have been an accidental death. The guy has sex with her. Somehow she dies. Heart attack, maybe. The guy panics, wraps her up and dumps her body.”
“I guess it’s possible,” Marks said, though not convinced. “If it was accidental, why not just call it in? Why go to all this trouble of dumping her and later having to explain if caught? It doesn’t really make sense.”
“Well, one thing I’m sure about,” Chris said. “She wasn’t killed here. She was murdered some place else and her body dumped here.”
“Yeah, but where?” Marks watched as the body was loaded into the back of the van. Some members of the press and a news crew were just arriving on scene. “Any identification?” he asked Chris. “Do we know who she is?”
One of the uniformed officers overheard and came up to Detective Marks. “I might have a lead on that,” he said. “A missing person’s call that came in last night.”
Nine
Detective David Marks was at the Gold Coast morgue in Southport, awaiting the arrival of Sean and Stacey Simms; the dead girl’s probable parents. They were due in any minute to formally identify the body.
He paced up and down the chilly corridor that ran off the waiting area. They always kept these places at a constant temperature of about 20° or 21° Celsius.
Body identification had to be one of the most unpleasant parts of police work and he couldn’t wait to get it over and done with.
Marks checked his watch. They should arrive shortly.
His mobile phone beeped, telling him he’d received an SMS. When he checked it, he saw that it was from his wife, asking him what time he might be home this evening.
He wrote back.: I don’t know.
Things weren’t the best at home for him at the moment. A wedge had driven distance between himself and his wife of late, and maybe the chasm was just too wide to traverse? His case load had been heavy these past six months, and now this new murder investigation on top of everything else.
A separation and possible divorce may soon be on the cards.
He already had the SOCOs around at the Simms residence in Riverstone Crossing, meticulously going over the house, and particularly Amanda’s bedroom. If this body was indeed that of Amanda Simms, then it was highly likely her death happened in her bedroom.
When Stacey and Sean Simms arrived they were ashen-faced, eyes glazed and disbelieving. They hadn’t yet viewed the body, but it was obvious to Marks that they already knew the truth and expected the worst.
Marks signaled an attendant dressed in a white lab coat and wearing glasses with thick black frames. The man entered the door that led into the holding room. Marks guided Mr and Mrs Simms over to a window that allowed them to see into the room. They watched as the attendant opened a door to what looked a lot like a cold room. In that large chamber the temperature was sub-zero, about -15° Celsius. It was used to store bodies that had yet to be identified. The attendant emerged a moment later wheeling out a trolley with a sheet-covered corpse on it. Beside him, Marks felt Stacey Simms stiffen when she saw it.
The trolley was wheeled over to the window. The attendant looked at Detective Marks. He looked at Mr and Mrs Simms.
“Are you ready?” he asked softly.
They both silently nodded.
The sheet was pulled back to reveal the face.
Stacey gasped and collapsed into her husband’s arms. Sean just stared, mesmerized. He appeared frozen with shock. Ever so slowly he peeled his eyes away from the scene beyond the window and turned his head towards the detective.
“That’s Amanda,” he stated flatly.
Marks nodded to the attendant, who then covered the body back up and quickly wheeled it away.
Marks took a deep breath and sighed. “The Coroner wants an autopsy performed to determine the cause of death, among other things.”
“So you don’t know how she was killed?” Sean asked, his eyes red, verging on tears. Bravely he held them back for now. His arms were still wrapped tightly around his distraught wife.
“No. We don’t,” Marks answered. “The autopsy will tell us more.”
“So, you’re not even sure she was murdered?”
“The fact that her body was dumped in bush land strongly suggests she was. I’m sorry, Mr and Mrs Simms.”
Marks let them console each other for a few minutes in the waiting area, giving them a chance to come to terms with their loss to some small degree.
Bleary-eyed and sniffling back tears, Stacey asked the detective, “When can we make arrangements?”
“Her body will likely be released as soon as the autopsy is complete.”
“Likely be released?” Sean repeated. “What exactly does that mean?”
“She should be released as soon as the post mortem is finalized. However, there is the slight chance that we may need to retain the body for longer in the event that we need to gather more evidence. But that shouldn’t be the case,” he added quickly.
Mrs Simms asked, “When will the autopsy be conducted?”
“It’s scheduled for tomorrow afternoon at four o’clock.”
“Can we be there?”
Marks shook his head. “That’s really not an option, Mrs Simms. Trust me, you don’t want to be there.”
“She’s going to be mutilated, isn’t she,” she stated, bitterness coating her tongue.
“I assure you your daughter’s remains will be treated with the highest degree of respect. Only procedures absolutely necessary to determine exact cause of death will be carried out. She will in no way be mutilated.”
Sean looked convinced but Stacey didn’t look so sure.
“I really need you to accompany me down to the station to answer a few questions. I can drive you there and drop you back to your car when we’re done.” Stacey and Sean glanced at one another. “I really wouldn’t be asking you to do this right now if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. We need to catch her killer and I need some background on your daughter to be able to do that.”
* * *
“How old was your daughter?” Marks asked.
Sean Answered, “She’d just turned twenty a few weeks ago.”
They were sitting in an interview room back at the precinct. This wasn’t a formal interrogation, just preliminary questions to obtain some background on the victim. A coffee rested on the table in front of Sean. Stacey had only wanted water. Mar
ks had opted for black tea. He had his digital recorder on the table and set to Record.
“Was she seeing anyone? A love interest? Did she have a boyfriend? Girlfriend?”
“You mean, was she gay?” Stacey looked incredulous. “Amanda was not a lesbian.”
Marks held up his hands in a gesture of supplication. “In this day and age I’ve gotta ask things like that.”
“She didn’t have a partner that I know of,” Sean said. “But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t seeing someone without our knowledge.”
“Was it common for her to have friends come over to the house?”
Sean said, “Sometimes.”
“Men?”
“Male friends, yes.”
“Lovers?”
Stacey shook her head. “Our daughter never had sex in the family home. I’m not saying she wasn’t sexually active. Hell, she was twenty.”
“Not to our knowledge,” Sean added. He stared hard into the detective’s eyes. “Do you think some guy who was keen on Amanda may have killed her?”
Marks shrugged. “It’s a distinct possibility. Maybe he was a jilted lover? Or someone who fancied her but she didn’t feel the same way? Many murders are crimes of passion, and with most murders, the perpetrator is known to the victim. We have to look at all possibilities.”
“Are we suspects?” Stacey asked pointedly.
Marks hesitated before answering. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and tenting his hands. “When a murder first occurs, virtually everyone known to the victim starts out as a person of interest. It’s a process of elimination. So, where exactly were you two when Amanda disappeared?”
“We were on the Sunshine Coast at a health spa, from Friday afternoon until Monday,” it was Stacey who answered.
“Can that be verified?”
Sean said, “Absolutely.”
“Okay. Leave me details of the place and I’ll look into it.”
“Detective, this is all wasting time,” Stacey said. “You really need to speak to Amanda’s friend, Rebecca. They were out together on Saturday night and Rebecca saw her leave the night club with some guy.”
Marks sat back with a sigh. He scratched at his goatee. “Well, I wish I was told this a little sooner.”
Stacey shook her head, tears welling in her eyes again. “I’m sorry. With everything that’s happened, and seeing our daughter lying there dead on that table...” Her voice trailed off.
“It momentarily slipped our minds,” Sean explained. “We did mention it to the officer who took our missing person’s report last night.”
A reprimand for him, Marks thought and leaned forward on the desk again. “Did this Rebecca know the guy? Was it someone either she or Amanda were familiar with?”
Stacey shook her head and wiped her eyes. “I don’t think so, but you need to talk to her.”
After a few more questions and issuing them each with a business card, Marks sent them on their way and arranged for a uniformed officer to locate Rebecca Winston and have her brought into the station to make a statement.
As it turned out she’d never seen the young man before, and she was pretty certain Amanda had only met him for the very first time that night.
Deeply distressed over her best friend’s death, Rebecca was taken before a forensic artist, who utilized a computer program to form a fairly accurate rendition of the possible offender. Copies were printed off and distributed in hardcopy, by fax and by email to staff in all stations in the local precinct and beyond. An APB was put out on the suspect.
Marks kept several copies for himself and decided tonight was a good night to do some night clubbing. He sent his wife a text saying he didn’t have a clue what time he’d be home and not to wait up for him.
Ten
Ryan was busy searching the apartment for a cigarette when there was a knock on the door. He opened it to find Chelsea’s friend standing there in her school uniform.
“How did you get up here?” he asked, knowing full well he had to let her in after she’d buzzed the intercom.
Emma shrugged easily. “Someone else was coming in at the same time.”
“So much for building security,” Ryan groaned and stood aside to let her enter. “Would you like a drink of something?” he asked her.
“A beer?” she said hopefully and smiled.
Ryan shook his head. “No way.”
“I’ll be eighteen on Friday.”
“Yeah, well it’s only Tuesday. How about orange juice instead?”
“Fine.”
Emma sat down on the lounge and waited for Ryan to join her. He poured her a glass of juice and took it into the living room, placing it down on the coffee table for her.
“Is Chelsea home? She wasn’t at school again today.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Ryan said and sighed. “And, no, she’s not home. She was gone when I got up this morning.” He tugged at his ear and stared out the balcony doors. “She’s probably working at Threads.” The fingers of his other hand started strumming on his thigh. “I need you to do me a favour, Emma. Chelsea won’t listen to me. She wants to drop out of school with only a month to go. Which is crazy.”
Emma picked up her juice and took a sip. “I know. She told me last night. I think she’s crazy, too.” She stared at Ryan, her eyes vibrantly green in the bright light that streamed in through the windows. She sat back on the lounge and crossed her legs, her blue pleated skirt covering her lap. Emma held the glass in both hands, sipping on it occasionally.
“So, do you think you can talk her out of it?” Ryan asked. “Like I said, there’s no way she’ll listen to me at the moment.”
“She seemed kinda pissed off with you last night.”
“We’d just had an argument.”
“About school?”
“Yeah that, and other things that I won’t go into.”
“I tried to talk to her last night, saying how crazy it was for her to quit with only a few weeks left, but she wouldn’t listen. You know what she’s like.”
He nodded, knowing all too well what his sister was like and how stubborn she could be. Maybe he came across that way to others too? He wasn’t sure.
“She should listen to you,” Emma said, a slight, approving smile curling the corners of her mouth. Today she had on no lipstick or nail polish. “You’re a nice guy. One of the good guys. I’m normally attracted to the bad boy, but nice guys are good too.”
“I’m not all nice and goodie-goodie,” he assured her. “I have my flaws.”
“Who doesn’t? Are you trying to tell me that you have some bad boy in you?”
“Maybe?”
Ryan knew Emma smoked and he contemplated asking her if she had any cigarettes on her. However, he decided against that for a number of reasons. For one, he didn’t want to be a bad role model for his sister’s friend. Secondly, he was supposed to be making a concerted effort to quit the habit. He really needed to stop thinking about it. What he needed was something to do, a case to work on, something to keep his mind occupied.
He felt Emma’s gaze upon him. When he looked at her she had a glint in her eyes. He’d seen that look before, and it worried him that he was receiving it from a seventeen year old school girl.
“Would you like to come to my birthday party on Friday night, Ryan?” she asked out of the blue. “It’ll be fun. I guarantee it.”
He managed a rather strained smile in response and shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m sure it will be fun, but I won’t go.”
She sat forward and offered him a pleading look. “Why not?” She then batted her eyelids at him rather amateurishly.
“For one, it’s for people your age.”
“No it’s not. My parents will be there.”
He ignored that. “Secondly, I’m assuming my sister will be there, and I’m one hundred percent positive that she wouldn’t want her big brother there keeping an eye on her. Especially the way things are with us at the moment.”
Emma looked genuinely disappointed, but didn’t push it further. However, she continued to stare at him as if he was the best looking man to walk planet earth. Ryan felt uneasy under her gaze and shifted his weight in the chair.
Emma patted the couch. “You can sit here beside me if it’ll be more comfortable for you.”
“I don’t think so, Emma.”
“I won’t bite.”
“I think you might.” He stood up and paced the living room floor, walking over to the balcony, glancing down at the city of Surfers, then back to the chair again. “I’m really flattered, Emma, but I’m not gonna go there.”
“Don’t you find me attractive?” She tried the eyelid thing again without success.
“It’s not about whether I think you’re attractive or not. Of course you’re attractive. Many guys would think so; especially guys your own age.”
“I prefer older men,” she told him.
Ryan wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with that label at just twenty-five. He shook his head to get his thinking back on track.
“I’m too old for you,” he said.
“No, you’re not.”
“If you want someone older, find someone who’s twenty, or twenty-one. Besides, there’s no way I’m going to date Chelsea’s best friend.”
“And if I wasn’t Chelsea’s friend? Would you go out with me then?”
“No,” he replied with all honesty.
Emma frowned and pouted like a girl half her age would do. “So you’re telling me you’re just not interested in me no matter what?”
He nodded and made eye contact with her. “That’s what I’m telling you. Please don’t be offended by it. We all have our own types we go for.”
“And I’m not yours, obviously.”
She was still pouting as she stood up, preparing to leave. Ryan followed her to the door and opened it for her, wanting to make sure she left.
Night Realm Page 6