Find Her Alive

by Diane Saxon

  She shot him a feral grin. ‘Of course. How do you think I got to be this good?’

  Before he could reply, she flung open the door and leapt from the car as the sharp reminder of why she was there slammed back home.

  Adrian unfolded himself from the passenger seat, which gave her a brief moment to compose herself as she pulled the keys from the ignition with fingers of ice. His dark gaze rested on her across the bonnet of the car, and she realised he’d deliberately moved to give her a moment alone.

  She opened the back door of the car, pulled out her wellington boots and tugged them on, placing her flat-soled ankle boots in the footwell. She fastened the buttons of the thick, black woollen overcoat her mother would have approved of and forced her shaky hands into a pair of red leather gloves Fliss had bought her the previous Christmas.

  ‘Looks like someone was in a rush.’ He indicated the marks through the thick layer of mulched leaves and mud the weather had inflicted on the area in the last few days. She chose not to answer, instead, she closed the door and stabbed her thumb onto the remote key fob to lock it behind them. More than she had been able to do the previous night.

  The caffeine she’d poured down her throat had done nothing to slow down the rapid pace of her heart, but her mind was sharp, focused. She had no idea what had made her think her sister was in danger the previous night before any evidence had even presented itself, but she had. It had been pure impulse, not a police officer’s professional deliberation of the circumstances, but a sister’s deep, abiding instinct borne of her close connection to Fliss. The same instinct which told her her sister was still alive. That someone had abducted her.

  She’d lived her entire life looking out for her little sister. Perhaps it had all just been preparation for now; for this moment. She hoped to God she was up to the job.

  Much warmer than she had been the night before, Jenna stood in the dim watery light and let her gaze cruise across the Benthall Edge Wood hill. The Ironbridge stood stalwart to her right, a handful of visitors straggled across it, huddled in their coats, noses red, insisting on taking photographs of the famous landmark. The birthplace of industry.

  ‘Did you manage to get hold of the vet?’

  Jenna continued to scan the area with a critical eye as she ignored the gentle sympathy in his voice and answered the question. ‘Yeah, Domino’s awake. They’ve splinted his lower jaw. The vet says it’s more of a fracture than a complete break. It should take six to eight weeks to heal.’ She rubbed her fingers over her brow as she studied the far side of the river. A slow drizzle reduced visibility, leaving the entire town in a dull, grey mist. She turned on her heel, the deep ache in her chest was for Domino. ‘He’ll have to have a feeding tube for a while.’

  With Adrian matching her stride, Jenna marched towards the Tollhouse. She cast her gaze side to side, aware of Adrian’s intense observation, but her attention was on her surroundings.

  Jenna saw nothing out of place. Forensics were up in the cordoned-off hills, but she needed, for her own piece of mind, to review escape routes now, before any more visitors contaminated a possible scene. She came to a standstill at the gated entrance to the Ironbridge. With Adrian silent beside her, Jenna breathed in the chilly air coming off the River Severn and noted the faint wisps of fog spiralling their way down the valley. She paced onto the bridge, did a one-eighty on her heel to look back up at the woods.

  ‘He couldn’t have taken her over the bridge. Someone would have seen.’ She turned in a slow circle, scanned the area, taking in The Tontine pub on the opposite side of the bridge. Two police officers emerged from the front entrance, flicked their notebooks closed and moved on. More police officers trooped up the hill as they conducted house-to-house enquiries. If it hadn’t been her own sister missing, she’d have had to admire the quick flood of officers who’d volunteered to take part. It wouldn’t make any difference to them who was missing. They were trained to help, to volunteer, to commit.

  She cruised her gaze over the hillside. Where? Where could her sister be? Where could he have taken her?

  ‘She can’t be up there. It would be too impractical. Too difficult to take an unwilling or unable person all the way over the bridge, up the hill.’ She cast her gaze back and forward, peering up at the vista. ‘Impossible.’ She knuckled her fingers into her forehead. ‘It doesn’t matter how strong a person was, there’s no way they could carry a body all the way up there.’ She flopped her arm back down to her side. She scanned the area again. ‘Nor would Fliss go willingly. Would she?’

  With a shake of her head, Jenna continued to talk to herself. She was aware of Adrian’s presence, his broad shoulders and wide chest were unmissable, but it wasn’t for his benefit she spoke out loud. She needed the process to keep her sane.

  ‘He couldn’t risk anyone seeing him. Even at this time of year when it’s really quiet. Most of the tourists would have gone back to their B&Bs or hotels. But he couldn’t guarantee that. There…’ She pointed at The Tontine. There were other houses stacked up the hillside, but she concentrated her attention on the pub. ‘He couldn’t risk being seen from there. So…’

  Retracing her steps, Jenna ignored Adrian as she strode past him.

  ‘He had to have a car. Why would you pick someone up, carry them some distance…’ she pointed down the woodland track, ‘… if you didn’t have transport?’ Looking along the short length of the car park they had just drawn into, there was nothing to immediately grab Jenna’s attention. ‘Fliss didn’t walk out of there under her own steam. She had to have been carried.’

  ‘What if she was dead?’

  Jenna whipped her head around as Adrian spoke. ‘Dead?’ Aware of the sharp challenge in her voice, Jenna scowled at Adrian, tempted to poke him in the chest.

  ‘If he’d already killed her. What if he just…’ He shrugged his shoulders, stared past her, down the track she’d been looking at. ‘… Carried her body so he could dump it further along? So, you don’t find everything at once. Or perhaps he thought if he hid her separately, you wouldn’t have discovered either of the bodies.’

  ‘That’s bullshit because my sister is not dead.’ She ground her teeth, flexing her jaw as she glared back up at him, daring him to continue, willing him not to.

  His steady gaze met hers for a moment before he turned to watch the approaching police car.

  14

  Saturday 27 October, 12:05 hrs

  Mason didn’t seem to have as much trouble unfolding from the confines of his own police issue car, in fact, he leapt out of it with an agility that surprised her. Perhaps it was relief he didn’t have to sit in it any longer. Brow furrowed, he hunched his shoulders as she strode towards him and his new, temporary partner.

  PC Downey slid himself out of the car at the same time, looking even younger than he had in uniform. As he reached inside the vehicle, the pair of jeans he wore hooked under the top of his underpants at the back with material so loose it seemed as though his arse hung down to his knees. Layers of T-shirt, hoodie and jacket clung to his skinny frame and with the woolly black beanie pulled low on his forehead, Jenna wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d actually been arrested by Mason instead of partnering him.

  From the sour look on Mason’s face, her ex-partner wasn’t terrifically impressed himself.

  ‘Hey.’ Jenna kept her face neutral as the young police officer approached her but gave him a quick assessment before her attention returned to the surrounding area again.

  Ryan raised his head and grunted, all attitude and teenage punk. Jenna wondered if he wouldn’t have been better off back in uniform. The lad seemed to have lost the sweet innocence he’d had earlier that morning. Perhaps Gregg had made a mistake.

  ‘He smells oily,’ murmured Mason as he passed by her and started walking towards the Forensics team further down the path.

  ‘Oily?’

  ‘Yeah, like someone slicked him down with, I dunno, that stuff they stick on their hair. Oily stuff.’
r />   ‘Pomade?’

  Mason whipped his head around, eyes filled with horror. ‘Fucking… what? Fucking pomade. You have to be kidding me.’

  ‘I kid you not.’

  His shook his head, mouth twisting in disgust.

  With a twitch of her lips, Jenna fell in step. She flung a brief glance over her shoulder as Adrian engaged the kid in conversation. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been so young, so thuggish, but it would be good to think the young man was trying to make something of himself.

  ‘Perhaps it’s his aftershave,’ she suggested helpfully to Mason.

  ‘He doesn’t shave…’ Mason grumbled back, flicking a spiteful look at the boy’s smooth cheeks, ‘… and if he does, the aftershave’s gone off.’

  She tossed another glance over her shoulder at the errant PC. ‘Didn’t he have a suit?’

  Mason stopped abruptly and stared at Jenna as though she was an idiot.

  ‘You are joking, aren’t you? I ran him home. He didn’t even have a wardrobe. He picked those up off the floor, for Christ’s sake. They’d probably been there three weeks.’ He stabbed his finger at her. ‘If we’re looking for dead bodies, perhaps his flat is the place to start.’

  Jenna flicked up an eyebrow. Mason seemed to have moved on from being pissed off earlier with Gregg for assigning the Chief Prosecutor to her to being pissed off he’d been partnered with a kid. Perhaps he was permanently pissed off. She’d just never noticed before. She’d assumed it was attitude.

  Mason stopped his tirade. ‘I’m sorry, that was tasteless. This is Fliss we’re talking about.’ He picked up his pace and glanced over his shoulder as they left Adrian and the young PC behind. Shaking his head, he ran his fingers back and forwards across his mouth. ‘She’s a really nice kid.’

  ‘Kid? You do know how old she is?’

  ‘Twenty-three.’

  It was Jenna’s turn to stop. Her reply was hesitant, suspicion niggling in the back of her mind. ‘She’s not a kid. Not any more.’ Although she’d always be her younger sister.

  ‘You’re right. Twenty-three. She’s a woman.’ His voice turned gruff.

  Jenna glanced up at him. ‘Mason? Is there something you’re not saying?’

  Mason shook his head and stepped to one side to let Jenna pass him by. Adrian was talking quietly to PC Downey. He didn’t seem to have a problem with his get-up, but it might just cause a riot when they got back to headquarters. PC Downey looked more like a druggy than CID.

  Half amused, she shook her head and then noticed Adrian watching her from beneath lowered brows. Did he regret the decision he’d made to allow her to stay on the case? Would it be his decision to take her off, or did Gregg have the final say?

  She scooped her fingers through her choppy brown hair while she assessed the scene before her. She could have fallen apart. She could have screamed and shouted, but despite the pain arrowing through her, she knew she had the strength to carry on. Whether it lasted was yet to be seen, but she was damned if she’d show any weakness in front of the others.

  As they reached the cordoned area, lengths of barrier tape stretched up the hillside from the main walkway through the trees to the narrow path above to define the territory they needed to search and investigate. A long, narrow, white canopy had been erected on the main thoroughfare to protect the area from the rain, but Jenna assumed it just wasn’t feasible in the woods to cover everything.

  She blew out a soft sigh as she scanned the vicinity. The area was vast. Despite the large team drafted in to help, it could take days to carry out a thorough investigation. Control, preserve, record and recover. The process had been drilled into her since her first green days on shift.

  ‘What happened to DI Taylor?’ Mason interrupted her reverie and she answered without taking her gaze from the scene.

  ‘He’s reviewing the information with Frank, setting everything up. I need to report back to him when we get back, then he’ll come out and take a look later.’

  Adrian moved closer to her as they approached half a dozen people in white personal protection equipment.

  Reluctant to step inside the cordoned area at this stage, Jenna waited.

  A tall, skinny guy separated himself from the group. A mop of thin greying hair flopped onto his forehead above the glasses perched halfway down his long angular nose. He gave a brief nod and held up gloved, muddy hands as an apology for not offering them to shake.

  ‘Mason. Jenna.’ He turned warm grey eyes to Jenna and her heart melted. This man always invoked a feeling of security, of calm solemnity, a father figure she’d never had. ‘Sarg, I’m sorry about your sister. We’ll do the best we can to help.’

  Jenna met his quick, sympathetic look before she nodded and turned her head.

  ‘Adrian, this is Senior Forensic Scientist Jim Downey.’ Both men nodded rather than lean in for a handshake. ‘Jim, this is Chief Crown Prosecutor Adrian Hall. He’s here to keep an eye on me. Make sure I behave myself.’ With a bitter twist of her lips, she smiled at Jim and then turned to introduce the younger man. ‘Of course, you know Acting DC Ryan Downey.’

  Jim flicked a curious glance Adrian’s way and then swiped his gaze back to the kid. ‘What in hell’s name are you wearing? I thought they’d just made an arrest and brought along a criminal to my scene.’

  Ryan’s new-found confidence rushed out as a bright red blush took its place.

  ‘Dad!’ Ryan kicked at the mud beneath his feet, his spine curved over in a long sulk, and then shot a resentful glance at his father while Jenna tried to smother her laughter.

  ‘Go see your mother later, she’ll sort out some clothes for you.’ Jim held his arms wide. ‘Do you see anyone else around here wearing grunge gear?’

  ‘No, but…’

  ‘You’ve been assigned to CID, not undercover on the Drug Squad.’ Jim raked his gaze over the younger man. Unable to hide his pride, his lips twitched in a reluctant smile. ‘Congratulations on your secondment, son.’

  He turned away from Ryan to face Mason, who did little to contain his own amusement. With an embarrassed cough, Jim indicated with a wave of his hand they should follow him through the inner cordon.

  They dressed in the pale blue Personal Protection Equipment in silence and when they were ready, they headed along the main concourse behind Jim as he strode through the thick mud, blackened from the days when steam trains were used to transport thousands of tonnes of coal every day to the power station in the distance. Long since decommissioned, the land still bore the marks of the Industrial Revolution.

  Jim turned his head to speak as they approached the collection of white tents.

  ‘Right, well, so far, we’ve contained the area. An absolute nightmare of a job. We’ve only just finished. We’ve not removed the body. I’ve collected as much evidence from her in situ as possible. We have to be mindful we don’t contaminate any evidence, especially with the rain washing mud and leaves down the hillside. They’ve managed to barrier it off as efficiently as possible, but if we have a deluge, we’re in trouble.’ He glanced up at the pewter sky and shot Jenna a pained look. ‘We have to pray the rain holds off for a while longer.’

  He came to a standstill and drew his hand in the air to indicate the wide swathe of area they’d quarantined. ‘I have a number of my people up there carrying out scene recognition.’ He turned to Adrian to explain, ‘At this stage, we touch nothing. We use our eyes and only our eyes. Equipment is camera, paper, pen. We need to gain an understanding of the extent of the crime scene. We have one chance only to perform an untainted search before the evidence is washed away by the rain, swallowed by the mud.’

  He turned his back and took another few steps to the entrance of the tent, picked up a long, thin cane. He stepped to one side and indicated for them to look inside.

  Jenna took a long moment to study the scene, so very different from the night before when they’d wallowed around in the rain and the mud with only the dragon lights to illuminate the area once Air On
e had moved on. Powerful though they were, there was no substitute for daylight.

  As she stepped back, Adrian moved forward and ducked his head to get inside the tent. Jim hunched his wide, bony shoulders against the cold and rubbed his acrylic gloved hands against each other.

  ‘What we have so far is an unidentified female, I’d guess early thirties.’ He squinted at Jenna. ‘Although she could be much younger. It looks as though she’s had a tough life. I’d say there’s considerable evidence of abuse. She’s white, pale brown hair. We’ll send her to the morgue when we’re ready, post-mortem will be carried out later today, possibly this evening. Pathologist has been informed and is making his way from London. From first observations, I’d say she has a broken neck. We’ll know for sure later if that was the cause of death. I would say so. We fingerprinted your sister’s iPhone last night. There only seemed to be one set of prints, we assume they belong to Fliss. We got it off to IT who are checking it out now.’ He shot Jenna and Mason a quick frown. ‘Bloody police officers trampled half of my crime scene last night trying to get a dog out.’

  He removed his muddy gloves, bagged them and pulled on a fresh pair. ‘However,’ he paused and pointed up the hillside to the higher pathway, ‘we have a pretty clear indication from the tracks up there and beyond the path what may have transpired.’

  Handing gloves to each of them, Jim pointed a finger at his son, his grey eyes intense. ‘Don’t touch a thing!’ He turned to indicate along the path. ‘Best guess at the moment. There are tracks leading from further up the hill, where someone has come down quite controlled, sideways to keep from sliding, deep footprints where they paused for a while behind a tree, the mud let him sink in, obliging us with perfect prints. Then he came straight down to where it looks as though your sister was standing. The imprints from her boots are deep and clear in the mud. Loads of dog tracks all over, so that confuses matters. We all know he’s a bloody lunatic, that dog of your sister’s.’ He wrinkled his nose in disgust and irritation stirred in Jenna’s stomach. He’d ruined a crime scene, but in her eyes, he was a hero. He’d suffered horrific injuries and if he died…