Kenny looked longingly at his forkful of food, put it down and ran a hand over his forehead. “Tina was at Josh’s this afternoon.”
“Oh God, Kenny. What did you do? You didn’t give Josh a hard time again, did you?” She thought they’d worked past the over-protective-Dad stage. The man had been completely overbearing when Tina had started hanging out with Josh, and understandably, Tina thought he’d had no right.
“Me?” Kenny’s eyebrows shot upwards. “I did my best. That’s what I did. Tina called me after trying to get through to you for an hour.”
Cooper’s heart sank. “I texted her back. She said everything was fine.”
“It wasn’t. She was doing homework at Josh’s house. Sat on his bed and she got her period. I don’t know much about these things but she was crying, said it came from nowhere, wasn’t supposed to be that day and was super heavy. Niagara falls, she called it.”
Cooper rested her forehead in her palm. Her poor girl.
“She didn’t know what to do. She’d bled through her clothes so I came here, picked up a change of clothes for her and called in at Boots. Didn’t have a clue what sort of, err, products, she needed so I bought applicator, non-applicator, regular, super, towels, liners… You know they have organic tampons? What’s that about? Anyway, I took them over with a box of chocolates and showed Josh how to use the washing machine.” He took a sip of beer and shook his head. “I thought I’d done everything I could but she’s still upset.”
Cooper reached across the table and patted Kenny’s hand. To her left, Atkinson prickled, but she ignored him. She didn’t have the energy for insecure egos right now. “You did do everything you could. She’s not upset with you. She’s embarrassed.”
“But she didn’t do anything wrong?”
“That doesn’t matter. Being a girl… It’s complicated. Look, we’re only a generation or two away from when women were called dirty or unclean for having periods. In some parts of the world it’s still that way. That sticks with you.”
Cooper covered her face with her hands. She hadn’t been there for Tina when she needed her. She’d wanted her mum and she hadn’t been there. Cooper had thought being a single, working mum would get easier as Tina got older. She’d been wrong. It was just going to get harder.
- Chapter 16 -
The Mazda’s engine warning light illuminated just as Cooper slammed the brakes and brought the car to stop in a carpark on top of a cliff in South Shields. She’d narrowly missed a young girl of five or six who was carrying three pink balloons and holding hands with her mother. Don’t let it be her, she pleaded to the heavens as she emerged from her vehicle and raced to the cliff edge. Don’t let it be her.
Down on the sand below her, uniforms were extending the police cordon as scene of crime officers worked to maintain the integrity of their evidence amidst a growing crowd of onlookers. Cooper ran as she descended the steep stone staircase that zigzagged down the cliff face, connecting green fields above to the grotto below. Her breath was haggard and beads of sweat instantly formed on her forehead. Her feet maintained a steady rhythm, tip-tapping down the stone steps as fast as she dared. She didn’t know how many steps there were but she knew they weren’t as many as Ropery Stairs in North Shields or King Edward’s Bay in Tynemouth. When Tina was younger she would always count the stairs. It was a habit, or rather an obsession, that Tina must have grown out of at some point. Cooper was unsure when that had happened and she felt sad for not noticing it sooner.
Marsden Beach was stunning. Ochre sand peppered with shells and pebbles faded to umber where the water lapped the shore. The odd piece of sea glass shimmered in the sunshine, and a towering monolith; the famous Marsden Rock dominated the scenery. The rock stood one hundred foot tall and during high tide was completely cut off from the beach. Home to thousands of kittiwakes and cormorants, the rock had once been much bigger. Erosion had caused a large chunk of the rock to collapse into the sea forming an impressive arch. It was postcard-perfect until the limestone above also fell victim to the saltwater.
Cooper continued running until she reached the police tape. Here, she found someone else who had fallen victim to the cruelty of the North Sea.
Atkinson met her at the tape as she flashed her identification at the officer in charge of logging all attendants.
“I had to call you,” said Atkinson, who was dressed in the usual white coveralls. “I know it’s not your case any more, but I know how invested you were.”
“Thank you,” she gasped, trying to get her breath back. “Is it her? Is it Macey?”
His eyes darted to the floor. “We’re not certain. The water, well, you’ll see for yourself, but I think so. She’s female, the same height and hair colour. Approximately the same age.”
Cooper felt like she’d been punched. The wind was suddenly gone from her sails. They were too late. “Can I see her?”
He paused for a moment, Cooper wasn't supposed to be there and he knew it. “Here,” he said, “put these on. And be quick.”
Cooper tried to lower her heart rate and steady her breathing before she entered the forensics tent. This wouldn’t be the first victim that Cooper had seen pulled from the sea, but they never got any easier. She took a deep slow breath, firstly to calm her nerves, and secondly, to fill her lungs with clean sea air.
“Shit.” Cooper bowed her head in respect, and though she didn’t consider herself religious, she hoped Macey was at peace and her soul was taken care of. The body was grotesque. She was bloated and barely recognisable as the smiling girl whose photograph Cooper had studied. She turned her head away to hide the fact that tears were forming in the corner of her eyes. It might not be professional, but dammit, she was sad; she’d let Macey down. “She’s so swollen,” she said in a voice so quiet she didn’t even know if Atkinson had heard her. “Her face.”
“That’s the gas. When a human dies, the bacteria in the body, the gut especially, can go on living for some time, feeding on the sugar and protein in the body. As decomposition begins, gas is produced and the body swells.”
Speaking of unrecognisable, Margot Swanson didn’t look a shadow of her usual glamorous self. The white coveralls hid her curves and the face mask she wore no doubt covered plump ruby-coloured lips. At least she couldn’t pout at Cooper’s man, not that she was ever interested in men over forty. “Erica,” she greeted. “I’ll have her transported from here as soon as possible. I’m sure Neil will arrange for the family to make a formal identification.”
Cooper shook Margot’s hand and forced her eyes back to the naked body of Macey Gallagher. “Who found her?”
“A boot camp coach,” explained Margot. “He was setting out his cones and kettlebells when he spotted her in the shallows.”
Cooper swallowed.
“She’s been in the water at least thirty-six hours,” said Atkinson, taking over. “Marine creatures had started to feed on her, that’s why her eyes are gone and parts are missing from the flesh on her stomach and thighs. Her hands were fastened together with a cable tie and I think her legs had been as well.”
“Jesus,” hissed Cooper, her gaze moving down her legs as Atkinson spoke. “She’s missing a foot. Someone cut off her foot?”
“I don’t think so,” said Atkinson.
“Me neither.” Margot moved towards what was left of Macey’s right leg. “She has marks on her left leg, around her ankle. And the way the flesh is pulled over here,” she pointed to the stump, “I think her ankles were also bound with cable ties and that something heavy had been attached to them to weigh her down. They wanted her body to stay submerged for longer. But with the level of bloating and gas accumulation observed here, it’s possible the upward force of her body caused the detachment.”
Cooper was choked up but tried not to show it. Why would anyone want to do this? Why would anyone want to harm a beautiful girl, who by all accounts was happy and friendly to everyone she met? “Was she alive when they did this?” she asked.
&
nbsp; Atkinson shrugged. “We don’t know. She has no gunshot wounds, no stab wounds. No signs of being beaten and other than the missing foot she has no broken bones that we can tell. You said she was diabetic?”
Cooper nodded. “That’s right.”
“That might explain why her body bloated so quickly. If her sugar levels were elevated it would be perfect conditions for the bacteria to feast. It’s near impossible for us to know if she was killed by drowning or if she was already dead when she was dumped in the water. If she’d been discovered sooner we might have been able to tell but after being submerged for so long, her lungs would fill with water either way.”
“There are tests,” said Margot, “But they’re unreliable. I might, however, be able to run some blood work and establish her insulin levels. It won’t be perfect as the bacteria will have used the glucose in her body, but it might give us an idea of whether she slipped into a diabetic coma before this happened.”
“Cooper,” the voice was unmistakable, and it was angry. “What in the blue blazes are you doing here?”
“Sir,” said Cooper, her voice squeakier than she would have liked.
Superintendent Howard Nixon’s face was hard and his eyes were furious. “You know damn well you were taken off this case. Fuller and Sutherland are on their way, how do you think they’ll feel finding you crawling all over their crime scene?”
“I'm hardly crawling, sir.” Cooper knew she was in the wrong, but her intentions were good. She just wanted to help. That was all she ever wanted to do.
“Hold your tongue, young lady. I’m not finished.”
Cooper practically choked. “Young lady? Sir, human resources—”
“Fuck human resources.”
“Hey!” Atkinson’s voice was lower than Cooper had ever heard it. “Do not talk to her like that. Don’t ever talk to her like that.” He’d moved within six inches of Nixon, who looked like he was about to blow a fuse. He was visibly shaking and Cooper didn’t know whether to love Atkinson for standing up for her or to hate him for, well, standing up for her. She almost always held her own with Nixon. Their relationship had never been the best but she usually handled him okay.
“And just who do you think you are, addressing me like that?”
Atkinson pulled his shoulders back and lowered the mask covering his mouth. “I’m the senior scene of crime officer and I have jurisdiction. No police, no detectives, no no one unless I say so. So get out of my tent and stop crawling all over my crime scene.”
Nixon’s mouth twisted. Cooper didn’t think anyone had ever thrown his own line back at him before and he couldn’t argue with Atkinson’s logic. He left the tent, giving Cooper a look that meant her life wouldn’t be worth living.
“Bugger it,” she sighed, throwing her hands up. “Bugger it all. I shouldn’t be here. We both know that.” She spun on the spot, hoping Nixon wasn’t waiting outside the tent. “Here goes nothing. I’ll see you at dinner, Justin.” Cooper blew a kiss into the air and left.
In the few minutes she’d been in the tent, the crowd had grown exponentially and television cameras had appeared on top of the cliffs. Out at sea, the Newcastle to Amsterdam ferry looked immune to the swell as it headed to the continent. Beyond it, on the horizon, storm clouds were moving in. Fast.
- Chapter 17 -
The oil warning and brake system lights illuminated orange and the power steering began playing silly buggers. Cooper didn’t have time for this but she didn’t have much of a choice. She dropped the car at her local Kwik Fit and took an Uber into HQ.
The image of Macey’s body wouldn’t leave her. As she threw her handbag down next to a desk, she remembered the swollen, grey stump that was Macey’s left leg. Exposed flesh, nibbled away at by fish and who knows what else. Cooper gagged. She clamped a hand to her mouth and raced to the toilets, desperately hoping she could make it in time. She pushed open the door to the first stall and dropped to her knees. The top of her tibia slammed against the tiled flooring and she yelped in pain. She retched over and over again but nothing came up. Panting, she placed a clammy hand back over her mouth and closed her eyes, but the image was still there. Cooper sat in the stall for over ten minutes, only when she was certain she wasn’t going to vomit over anyone did she emerge, red-eyed and pasty-faced.
Returning to her desk she switched on her computer and began searching the database for crimes involving scissors or heavy collars until Tennessee arrived looking both harried and distracted. Cooper glanced at her watch. What time did he call this?
“I just passed Nixon in the hall. What’s up his arse?” he asked, joining her at the desk.
“Me, mainly,” she replied. She rubbed her eyes and turned back to the screen. “Margot confirmed scissors as the weapon used on Omar Ali. I’m looking for any matches in MO. We think he had some sort of heavy collar fastened around his neck too.”
“A collar? Is that what the dog reference was all about?” Tennessee looked confused.
“We won’t know until he wakes up.” Cooper hesitated and added, “If he wakes up. He was probably delusional with pain. He could have said anything, but for now, it’s a…” her voice faded away.
“You were going to say lead. Admit it.”
“It’s a line of inquiry.”
After a few minutes of searching, Tennessee tapped his monitor. Nine years ago, homicide in Sunderland. Murder weapon was a pair of scissors. Toby Cresswell convicted… Oh, never mind, he’s still in the can.”
“Seamstress, Alba Fitz, attempted rape. Stabbed her attacker with sewing scissors. Self-defence. The assailant almost bled to death.”
“Hmm.” Tennessee leant back in his chair. “You don’t think this could be something similar? Maybe Omar isn’t the victim here. Maybe he’s the perpetrator and some woman defended herself?”
Cooper snorted. “Omar attacks some woman and instead of running away, she somehow overpowers him, holds him captive for a few days, then beats him up and stabs him?”
Tennessee’s posture shifted. He slumped forward in his chair, propped his elbows on the desk and rested his chin on his hands. “Sorry, stupid idea. Forget I said it.”
He wasn’t making eye contact and Cooper knew he wasn’t right. He hadn’t been right in days. “Jack,” she said tentatively, “what’s going—”
“What about this guy? Khush Patel. Convicted of GBH for stabbing someone with scissors. Served four years and now living in, would you believe it, Byker?”
Whatever it was, DS Jack Daniel didn’t want to talk about it. Cooper bit her lower lip and she bobbed her head. “Good. Let’s shortlist him. We’ll send a car over. In the meantime, keep looking.”
Cooper kept scrolling and came across a case from ten years ago. “James Blake,” she said. “Arrested after threatening a steward at St. James’ Park with a pair of scissors. Blake and his girlfriend had turned up to the game in goth gear, and get this, the girlfriend was on a leash.”
“No way?”
“Yes way. The stewards wouldn’t let them in. Health and safety. Blake kicked up a fuss, said the collar and leash were a sign of trust and guardianship in the goth subculture. The stewards wouldn’t budge, a scuffle broke out and Blake lunged at one of them with a pair of scissors he had in his pocket.”
“Definitely on the shortlist.”
The sound of Keaton’s heavy boots plodding the corridors preceded her arrival. She greeted Cooper and Tennessee and shook her coat, leaving a small puddle by the door. Cooper turned to the window; the sky was black and rain pelted the asphalt and paving outside.
Tennessee took in the state of Keaton. “I guess it’s raining,” he said sarcastically.
“You guess correctly.” Keaton squeezed her small ponytail, adding more water to the puddle around her feet. “You know, with observations skills like that, you should be a detective.”
“Now, now children.” Cooper picked up the phone and dialled for maintenance. She requested someone with a mop, a bucket and a wet floor
sign pay a visit to CID. “Right, Paula, what’s the latest from Weetslade?”
“The door-to-doors on the eastern side of the park aren’t getting us any further forward, boss. On the western side, I’ve got a farmer who woke up at two a.m. on Friday when a car went past his house.”
“Traffic cams on the western side?”
“None. But to get to the farm track you need to pass a retirement home. I have an appointment to view their CCTV later today.”
Tennessee got to his feet and began pacing.
“What else, Paula?” Cooper asked.
“Well, I’ve contacted the owners of the cars we picked up on the traffic cams from the A189. The Astra owner, Vince Shepherd, Clarkes Terrace, was driving home from Bournemouth where he’s been working. Was a crash on the M18 just south of Doncaster. Hence he was home so late. Checks out.”
Cooper made notes while Keaton spoke. “And the Qashqai?”
“The Qashqai’s owned by seventy-three-year-old Alice Faith. She’d been at a friend’s bedside as she passed away.” She made a sympathetic face before continuing. “And the Honda I traced to sixty-three-year-old Deanna Morton who had no knowledge of her car being used at that time. She called her son who lives next door and apparently borrows it from time-to-time. He confirmed he’d gone for a drive because he couldn’t sleep.”
Tennessee scoffed. “He lives next door to his mother and uses her car? What are the odds she still cooks him dinner every night?”
“He’s probably still breastfeeding,” said Cooper. “What’s the son’s name?”
“Bryce.” Confirmed Keaton.
Cooper tapped a finger on her lips three times before massaging her temples. “Bryce Morton,” she said quietly to herself. “Hayes Walk, Wideopen?”
Keaton nodded. “That’s the one. How’d you know?”
“Hong’s team found his wallet near where Omar suffered the worst of his attack.”
Keaton and Tennessee turned to look at her with furrowed, serious faces.
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