She clenched her teeth, trying her best to contain her reaction to the horrific sight, particularly given how she’d been less than impressed with Easton’s reaction just moments before. For her, it brought back a whole host of painful and very personal memories.
A crime scene photographer was standing over the corpse, looking at the small screen on his camera.
‘Ok, that’s me done,’ he said to Ledford. He nodded to Dani and Easton, then made his way out.
‘Jack, it’s good to see you,’ Dani said.
Ledford said nothing, didn’t even react to Dani’s voice, just carried on whatever he was doing. It was a frequent habit of his and one of his many oddities. Ledford was something of a hermit, someone who really was pretty damn useless at interacting with still breathing human beings. Dead people, on the other hand, he was quite excellent with.
After a few seconds Ledford straightened up and used the knuckle of one of his gloved fingers to push his glasses up his nose.
‘Ah, DI Stephens. You’re back.’
He didn’t sound particularly moved in any way by the fact.
‘First day,’ she said. ‘Not exactly how I’d planned this morning in my head.’
Dani looked over at Easton and wondered again whether he already knew the full story of her period of absence. Most likely he did. What he hadn’t read in the papers would have been passed through the police force on the gossip merry-go-round. Ledford didn’t say anything more on the subject of Dani’s return and that was fine by her.
‘What are your early thoughts?’ Dani asked.
‘Well I don’t think this was an accident,’ Ledford said. ‘Nor do I think the young lady did this to herself deliberately.’
Dani wasn’t sure if Ledford was trying to jest or if he actually felt it important to point those obvious facts out to her, such was his manner.
‘What about cause of death?’
‘You know you’ll have to wait for the post-mortem results before I can give you a full answer on that.’
‘Of course. But what’s your gut?’
‘Perhaps not the best choice of words, DI Stephens.’
Dani noticed Easton smirking, whether at her expense or because of Ledford’s stiff and humourless manner, she wasn’t sure.
‘She’s been stabbed twice,’ Ledford said, ‘and given the blood loss and what I can see of the wounds, one of those blows severed an artery – the abdominal aorta, most likely. Though it could have damaged the inferior vena cava too, which is actually a vein, rather than an artery. It’s a damn big vein though, so even though blood runs through it with a lot less pressure, if you damage it you’ve still got a big problem. I’m sure you know that already, though.’
Yes Dani did know, but she said nothing.
‘It seems highly likely therefore that blood loss was the cause of death,’ Ledford concluded.
‘Any idea about the weapon?’ Dani asked.
‘Nothing’s been recovered,’ Easton interjected.
‘A smooth blade,’ Ledford said.
He bent back down and lifted the blood-covered fabric of the dead woman’s strappy top up over her midriff to reveal the fatal wounds.
‘You can see from the incisions to the skin…’ Ledford pointed to the largest of the wounds, a gaping hole in the woman’s mid-section, ‘…that the wounds are neat, with little tearing. Which would be consistent with a smooth blade. A carving knife, something like that. About one and a half to two inches wide, at least five inches long.’
‘Any defensive wounds?’
‘It’s hard to say at this point. There are lots of wounds. A gash on her head. Grazes, scratches. Dirt under the fingernails. Possibly from being dragged on the pavement, but we’ll need to wait to match skin, blood and participle samples to conclude that. You’ll also note the marks on her wrists and ankles.’
‘She’d been tied up,’ Dani said. A statement. She’d already known about those marks which were the key reason why she’d asked for a pathologist in the first place. She held back the rising nausea at the thought of the poor woman’s ordeal.
‘Very likely,’ Ledford said. ‘Again, we’ll test for fibres on her skin and clothes, under her nails, see if it gives any clues. I’d say, given those surface wounds, that she’d been bound for only a short period. One to two days. And she also appears quite well nourished.’
‘But that doesn’t really tell the whole story,’ Dani said.
‘No, it doesn’t. She could have been held, unbound, for who knows how long, and it’s also possible that those marks have nothing whatsoever to do with her death. Forensics can only give you so much. You’re the detectives, DI Stephens and DS Easton; it’s for you to properly evidence the many whys and wherefores.’
‘Of course, Jack. You’ll let me know when the post-mortem results are ready?’
‘You’ll be among the first to know. I believe DI Fletcher is joint SIO too, though, isn’t she?’
‘She is?’ Dani said, looking to Easton as if for his reassurance but he simply shrugged.
Ledford frowned. ‘Well, you tell me. I’ll send the report to whoever I need to.’
‘I’ll let you know,’ Dani said.
She and Easton headed back out to the street. The number of bystanders along the police tape had grown in the intervening minutes as neighbours on their way to work had become sidetracked by the titillating events.
‘What are you thinking?’ Dani asked Easton.
‘She was kidnapped. God knows who by or why. Somehow she escaped. She ran. The killer caught up with her. Maybe he meant to kill her, or maybe he panicked. We know he was disturbed by Mr Mondy.’
Dani said nothing. Easton’s theory certainly seemed logical enough, which worried Dani, because that meant the death wasn’t just a random act of violence like so many of the murders they dealt with, but was cold and calculated.
‘If that’s true she must have been held somewhere near here,’ Dani said.
‘Possibly. Though she could have escaped from a vehicle.’
Dani looked over at the gaggle of onlookers, still growing by the minute, then at the houses across the road. Many of them still had curtains drawn. At more than one though, she thought she could see people peering out through the windows to get a glimpse of the goings-on. Nosy neighbours. Always the same.
As Dani stared over at the house opposite she thought she saw a figure in a darkened upstairs room. Just the outline of a person standing close to the window, but in the unlit room they were nothing more than a dark shadow. After a few seconds the figure faded away to nothing and a chilling shiver ran through Dani. She continued to look at the spot for several seconds but saw nothing more.
Was she seeing things now?
No, that really would be a first. She wasn’t mad. And she didn’t believe in ghosts. Either someone had been there, trying to be discreet, or it was simply a trick of the eye.
‘She had nothing on her of significance?’ Dani asked.
‘No ID, no purse, no phone, no jewellery.’
‘We need to identify her. We need to know where she was held. We need the murder weapon.’
‘So what do you suggest?’
‘Let’s see if we can trace her last movements. Find out which streets around here, which homes, have CCTV. We may identify her, the killer, a vehicle, something that we can begin to track.’
‘I’ll get on it now.’
Dani looked over again at the house opposite. No, that was no trick of the eye. There was the figure again, the outline even thinner and less visible than before, as it was now further back from the window – almost imperceptible in the shadow of the room, but definitely there.
‘We should also send a team out doing house-to-house around here,’ Dani said. ‘We could have more witnesses. She may even have been held close to here.’
‘I’ll get a DC on the case right away.’
‘Not yet. Let’s get the ball rolling ourselves first,’ Dani said. She looked over at the h
ouse opposite again. ‘Come on, follow me.’
Chapter Two
Dani and Easton headed up the pathway to the front door of the house. The unkempt garden, weed-filled paving slabs and the paint-peeling wooden window frames were quite the contrast to the Mondys’ home opposite. Dani wondered whether this house was even occupied or not.
They reached the worn-looking front door and Dani rang the bell. They waited a few seconds but there was no response from inside. Dani rang again, then stepped back and looked up to the window on the first floor where moments before she’d seen the ominous figure. There was nothing, no one there now.
Still no response to the doorbell.
‘Wait there, I’ll check around the back,’ Dani said.
She headed to the rickety side gate, opened it, and walked along the narrow passage to the back garden. A glazed door led into a dilapidated kitchen that looked like it had been last modelled in the sixties. Dani put her face close to the glass. There were no signs of anyone there, but the house was definitely lived in. Fresh fruit and vegetables sat on the kitchen counter. Cups and plates were neatly piled up by the sink, ready to be washed.
‘Anything?’ Dani called out to Easton.
‘No,’ he shouted back. ‘There’s no one home.’
Yet Dani was certain there’d been someone, or something, in the upstairs window. She looked across the messy grass of the narrow back garden. The six-inch long stems were trodden down in a neat line leading from the back of the house and over to the fence in the far corner.
‘Easton, come here.’
She continued to stare over at the footprints as she listened to Easton approaching behind her.
‘What is it?’ he said.
‘Have you got any gloves?’
She turned to him and he reached inside his coat and produced a pair of blue latex gloves. Dani slipped one on.
‘Over there,’ she said, indicating the footprints in the grass as she grabbed the door handle with her gloved hand.
She pushed down. The latch on the door released and she nudged the door open. She glanced at Easton. He gave her a determined look. She stared inside the space in front of her. Thick and musty warm air billowed out from the inside. Dani stepped in. The smell of stale air filled her nostrils.
‘Wait down here,’ Dani said to Easton. ‘Shout if you see or hear anything.’ He nodded in agreement. Dani moved forwards through the kitchen towards the hall, straining her ears for any sounds from within. ‘Hello?’ she called out. ‘This is the police.’
No response. Dani walked along the hallway, glancing into the old-fashioned dining room and the lounge that led off from it. No one in there. No one in plain sight anyway. As she reached the foot of the stairs, Dani looked over the picture frames along the wall leading up the stairs. Many were several decades old, black and white portraits.
‘Hello,’ she shouted again.
She heard a creaking floorboard from an upstairs room. Dani held her breath as she listened. Her heart was drumming in her chest. The fabric of her blouse pulsated with each beat.
Another creak.
‘Easton, get over here,’ Dani called, sounding panicked, her thin nerves getting the better of her.
Easton came up to Dani’s side. He had the second glove over his left hand, and was clutching a bundle of envelopes. Dani looked at the plastic window of the top envelope.
‘Mrs Staunton, are you home?’ Dani shouted. ‘It’s the police.’
Footsteps sounded above.
Dani braced herself, then flinched when a figure appeared at the top of the stairs and she had to fight to push the memory away.
‘What on earth are you doing in my house!’ croaked the doddery silver-haired lady who came into view, a thick pink dressing gown wrapped around her.
Dani let out a relieved sigh. She turned to Easton and was sure she saw him wipe away another smirk.
* * *
Thirty minutes later Dani was back in her car, heading through thick traffic to Birmingham city centre. She never had got to the bottom of who, or what, she’d seen in the upstairs window of June Staunton’s house. The old lady had sworn she’d been asleep until she’d heard the doorbell ring, but had been groggy and tired and it had taken her several minutes to muster the strength to get out of bed. She had no idea why the back door was unlocked, was adamant she would never leave it like that, and had no idea why there were footprints on her lawn.
Dani had checked the upstairs, claiming that she wanted to get a better look at the crime scene from the higher vantage point, but other than the unlocked back door and the prints in the grass, there was no other sign of anyone else having been there, intruder or otherwise.
Had the figure in the window been there at all or was Dani now seeing things? That wouldn’t be a good turn of events.
It was clear Mrs Staunton was rattled by the whole experience, particularly given the murder scene across the road, but Dani decided she had more pressing matters to attend to. Easton was competent enough to deal both with the old lady and the team of forensics who Dani had ordered do a sweep of the house to find any evidence of an intruder. Though she suspected Easton believed she was making more out of the situation than she should have been.
Whatever. Better to be anal than to miss something that could prove useful.
It was gone ten a.m. when Dani parked up in the city centre. As she headed towards the glass-canopied entrance to West Midlands Police headquarters she found herself slowing in her step as unwelcome thoughts wormed their way front of mind. As much as she’d longed to be back doing the job she loved during her long road to mental and physical recovery, there was no doubt she was incredibly apprehensive about now being back. Even though she was damn sure she needed the routine of her work in her otherwise empty life, she’d rarely felt as vulnerable as she did now that she was here.
She pushed the doubts away as best she could and continued across the road. The backs of her heels were already rubbing painfully against the tight-fitting new shoes she was wearing for the first time that day. Was it because they were new though, or because her feet had softened, given that it was so long since she’d worn anything other than trainers or flip-flops? With every stride she took the hard edge of the new leather wedged further into her broken skin and what with that, and the still rumbling doubts, a large part of Dani wished she was at home, wearing tracksuit bottoms and lounging on the sofa. Again.
No, come on, that’s not you. This is you.
She headed on inside and glanced around. Everything was different inside the HQ foyer. The large open space had been revamped and it now looked like the entrance to any modern corporate office block. There was an oversized, round reception counter plonked in the centre where three security guards were seated – though Dani noticed there were seats and computer screens for four. These weren’t desk sergeants like you’d get in a normal police station, just hired-in security staff for what was, essentially, mostly an administrative office, though the building also housed the Force CID Homicide team for the whole of the West Midlands.
Dani made her way up to the middle of the three security guards, the only one she recognised from the last time she’d been in the building over two years ago. She’d said hello and goodbye to him probably hundreds of times but knew him only as Bill.
‘Morning,’ Dani said, smiling widely when Bill clocked her.
‘DI Stephens!’ he said, his pouty face brightening. Bill was plump and bald, probably edging towards sixty, with a warm and kind face. ‘Long time no see.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘You’re back?’
‘First day.’
Bill looked up, to the spot above her ear, and his smile faded. He quickly averted his eyes.
‘I heard about… you know. I’m glad you’re ok.’
Dani didn’t say anything to that. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the other two guards look over at her, intrigued by Bill’s words.
‘I was told you�
�d have a new security card for me.’ She placed her old one on the counter. Not only had the whole front entrance and reception area of HQ been refurbished, but the security system was upgraded too, both here at the main entrance and for the car park, which was why she’d had to park across the street as she’d not yet received a fob for parking. Now a row of electronic gates beyond the foyer led into the building proper and Dani was, so far, still on the outside looking in. Not quite one of them again, yet.
‘Let me see,’ Bill said, pushing himself backwards on his swivel chair and over to a drawer. ‘I don’t remember seeing anything for you, though.’
Bill rifled through the drawer but came back up with nothing.
‘No, sorry, DI Stephens. No one told me you were coming back today. We can get you sorted out with one though, I’m sure.’
‘Not your fault,’ Dani said pleasantly, but she felt agitated. It wasn’t like McNair had forgotten she was coming back. After all, she’d had the rude awakening hours before. ‘Do you have a visitor pass or something I could take? I know where I’m going.’
‘Sorry, I know who you are and everything, but I’m not allowed to do that. I can call your supervisor? He’ll be able to come and escort you through.’
‘She.’
‘What?’
‘DCI McNair. Helen McNair.’
‘Ah, right, yeah. I’ll call her now.’
Bill picked up a phone handset and Dani moved away and went to sit down on one of a row of leather chairs that made up a small waiting area. In front of her was a glass coffee table with a selection of newspapers and magazines. Among them was a pamphlet for the West Midlands Police force, the front cover illustrating – through a series of small glossy photos – some of the force’s bigger recent busts, together with various community schemes they were involved in. Dani didn’t bother to pick it up. She didn’t need to see stories of the public faces of the force. The jolly PCs always ready to help an old lady across the road with a smile and a wave. What she saw in her job was far too grim and sinister to ever make it into a corporate style newsletter.
The Essence of Evil Page 2