"Put your wallet away," Melissa said. "The first round is on me."
Drew shook his head. "Nah, I'll get this. I was going to buy Harriet a drink, anyway. I owe her--" He trailed off before he finished the sentence and caught Harriet's eye from over the top of Melissa's blonde head.
Melissa's attention momentarily swept over Harriet, leaving her with the distinct impression that if Melissa could have wished her a million miles away in that moment, she would have done it. "I'll get something for you both," she said grudgingly. "What'll it be Doc?"
Harriet started to answer, but Melissa raised her hand. "Actually, don't. I know something that's perfect for you." She turned on her heel and began to push through the crush before Harriet could utter a reply.
"I was going to say I'm not really a beer person," Harriet said, more to herself than anyone else.
"When in Rome," Drew said with an easy smile. "I wouldn't worry about it, Melissa's just as likely to come back with a glass of wine as she is to bring you a beer. She's a little unpredictable."
"I wouldn't have said unpredictable," Harriet said, watching Drew carefully. There was a look of consternation on his face, as though he couldn't quite make up his mind about Melissa and her behaviour. She realised then and there that she could put him out of his misery, let him know what Melissa was thinking. But she couldn't shake the feeling that doing so would be too much like overstepping, and after the rocky start their friendship had got off to, it was the very last thing she wanted to do. Suddenly aware of the silence that stretched between them, Harriet cleared her throat awkwardly. "Perhaps we should join the others?"
Drew nodded and followed her lead back to the bench table.
"Good to see you, Guv!" Maz said, pushing up onto unsteady feet. There was a flush in his cheeks and his eyes were rapidly developing the glazed look of someone who had indulged a little too much. He raised his pint and some of the amber coloured liquid slopped over the side.
"Watch it!" Olivia warned as some of the liquid dripped down onto her bare arm. "God, you're such a light-weight," Olivia said, nudging him into the thigh with her elbow, causing Maz to wobble a little more.
"I am not." Maz glared down at her, and Harriet felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips as she watched the playful argument break out between the two detectives.
"This is for you," Melissa said triumphantly as she returned with a glass in each hand. She passed one to Drew and then turned to face Harriet and presented her with the second. "Go on," she urged. "Try it."
Harriet stared down at the drink. Some of the bubbles popped, causing the familiar scent of hops to waft up and tickle her nose. With Melissa's gaze trained on her, Harriet felt as though she had no choice but to acquiesce or risk appearing rude. She took a sip, the bitter taste washing over her tongue, and she fought the urge to pull a face. It wasn't unpleasant, far from it, but it didn't change the fact that she would never be a connoisseur of such things.
"Well, what do you think?" Melissa probed.
"It's great," Harriet said. "What's it called?"
"Cereal Killa," Melissa said, before she creased up with laughter. "Get it? Cereal Killa. Because you hang out with nut-jobs like Matthews. This stuff was made for you."
The others at the table laughed raucously, but Harriet was acutely aware of the tension that radiated from the man next to her.
"That's not exactly appropriate," Drew said gruffly, drawing a speculative look from Melissa.
"Shit, I'm sorry, Drew. I shouldn't have mentioned that lunatic. It's just when I heard what the good doctor gets up to in her spare time, I couldn't resist."
"I'm not sure I understand?" Harriet said. Her grip tightened on the glass in her hands as heat crawled up the side of her neck.
"I don't know how you do it, Doc," Melissa said. "I just couldn't do what you do. I couldn't feel sorry for bastards like Matthews, not even if my life depended on it. They're a waste of good air if you ask me."
"Nobody asked you," Drew said sourly. "Change the subject, Melissa." The tension in the group rocketed, and Harriet felt the eyes of the rest of the team on them as silence descended.
"It was just a joke," Melissa retorted.
"It's fine," Harriet said, struggling to smooth the situation over. "If we were all the same, life would be very boring."
"See, the Doc gets it, Haskell. No need to get your knickers in a wad." There was an unkind edge to Melissa's voice, and Harriet noted the darkening in Drew's expression as her words hit home.
"Time for food!" DC Green said, pushing onto his feet with an overly enthusiastic smile on his face. "I think we need food, and this place is legendary for its grub." The others paused, their attention locked on Harriet, Drew, and Melissa.
"You're right," Olivia said. "I could definitely eat. What about you, Guv?" She pushed up onto her feet and caught Drew's attention.
There was a beat where Harriet knew the situation would swing in one of two ways, but the moment passed and Drew's shoulders relaxed as he released a breath. "I'm starving," he said.
"That explains the grumpy bastard routine," Melissa said, and despite the smile on her face Harriet could hear the edge beneath her teasing tone.
The others on the task force joined in the chorus, and within seconds the tension dropped. Harriet took a seat on the end of the bench and let go of the breath she'd been holding onto. She set her drink down on the table and watched the condensation drift down the side of the glass.
"That was a close-call," Olivia said as she dropped onto the seat next to Harriet. "It's never boring with you around, is it?"
Harriet gave the other woman a lop-sided smile. "I try to keep things interesting."
"That you do," Olivia said, sidling closer. "There was something I wanted to ask you."
"You want to know whether I've had a chance to look over the files?"
"Yeah, how did you know?" Olivia seemed genuinely surprised, causing Harriet to chuckle.
"I get the sense you're a workaholic. You want to succeed, so it makes sense that no matter the situation you're always 'on'."
Colour mounted Olivia's cheeks. "I suppose that's a fair assessment. I didn't know I was so transparent."
"Sorry," Harriet said. "It's a professional hazard. I make my living trying to figure out those around me, I find it difficult to switch off."
"What do you make of those two then?" Olivia asked, inclining her head subtly in the direction of Drew and Melissa, who were, at that moment, locked in a heated debate.
"I'd say they have history," Harriet said diplomatically.
"That's not an answer," Olivia said with a smile. "But I'm not going to push you. Did you get a chance to look at the files?"
Harriet took a mouthful of her drink. "I did."
"And?" Olivia needled. "You're killing me here. What did you think?"
"I don't have the complete file, and I really would need that before I could give a full and informed opinion."
Olivia's shoulders drooped. "So you don't think it's anything more than somebody cleaning up?"
"If I was to hazard a guess, and bear in mind this is just a guess, at least until I can have all the facts; I'd be leery to call it just a run-of-the-mill retaliation. Initially, the scene suggests a level of disorganisation and heightened emotion that I wouldn't expect to see in a murder that's motivated by retribution. The way Jessica Tamblyn was attacked feels quite personal. In her bed, still wrapped in her blankets... There are elements of a blitz attack, but after the initial frenzy the wound patterns suggest something more akin to experimentation."
The colour drained from Olivia's face. "You got all of that just from the file Maz gave to DI Haskell?"
"Drew managed to pull the post-mortem, but I don't think he has anything beyond that."
Olivia blew out a breath. "If she wasn't murdered out of retribution, then what are we looking at?"
Harriet's stomach clenched uncomfortably. "Jessica's line of work is one that could be considered high-ris
k. Those working in the sex-industry already face a much higher risk of violence, not to mention that they are less likely to report crimes committed against them. Public perception has been less than favourable towards them for far too long, and it has made them wary of asking for help. However, the person responsible for her murder didn't attack Jessica in public, he broke into her home and attacked her while she slept. There's a personal element at play, and the level of violence and the fact that this person appears to have been comfortable enough to stop to have a snack is extremely concerning."
"You think they'll strike again, don't you?"
Drawing in a deep breath, Harriet glanced around at the members of the team who laughed and joked with their colleagues. "I do," she said quietly. "There will be others, if there hasn't been already. My biggest concern is that what we're looking at here is the potential for a massive escalation."
"A serial killer?"
Harriet nodded. "Yes." The moment she spoke the words aloud, she knew it was true. There would be other deaths, other innocents murdered. How many would have to die before the true pattern emerged? How many lives would be snuffed out by a perpetrator driven by such a desire for pain and violence. She didn't have the answers, and that bothered her most of all.
Chapter Ten
Hours later, thanks to taking a wrong turn despite the SatNav in the car, Martina followed Ambrose through the forest. They'd left the trail twenty minutes previously and were now beating a fresh path through the undergrowth in the direction of the scene.
Martina lifted her torch and let the light play across the surrounding trees. Something flashed in the corner of her vision, and she paused, bringing her torch up so it illuminated the small round discs on the tree trunks. "What are they?"
Ambrose paused as she called after him and followed the direction of her gaze to the trees surrounding them. "No clue," he said half beneath his breath as he took a tentative step forward. She reached the tree at the same time as he did and watched as he seized the small object from the trunk. A chunk of bark came away with the small disc, and Martina could see the nail still embedded in the tree.
"Is that a reflector from a bike?" Martina asked, eyeing the hard plastic circle cupped in the meaty palm of Ambrose's hand.
"Looks like it," he mumbled, before he glanced up at their surroundings. "Give me that a minute, would you?"
Before Martina could protest, he grabbed the torch and let it drift over the trees. Within seconds, other reflectors gave up their position, shining in the light. It gave the scene an eerie atmosphere, making Martina think of hundreds of eyes watching her from the darkness.
"That is just fucked up," Ambrose said. Martina was glad to find she wasn't the only one feeling unnerved by the odd situation.
"You're telling me," she whispered. Who would have done such a thing? And why go to so much effort? "We should get somebody to take a closer look at this," she said, mostly to herself.
"Why bother? It was probably just kids, anyway."
"Because it's weird, that's why." There was a firmness to her voice that brooked no argument. Ambrose gave her a once over, before he shook his head. A wry smile played around his lips. “Not to mention they’re placed conspicuously close to the place where a body was dumped?” She cocked an eyebrow at him but Ambrose continued to smirk. "What?"
"Just you can tell you grew up in the city, and not out in the country," he said patronisingly, and Martina half expected him to pat her on the head indulgently.
Before he could say another thing, she snatched her torch back from his hand, and started down the path again. A couple of moments later, and Martina emerged onto an embankment made of dirt. She glanced down at the forensics team who worked around in the small hollow. They'd set up several enormous lights that threatened to blind anyone who glanced at them head on. And among the leaf mould, Martina could see the glint of the metal plates they'd set up; like stepping stones across a pool of orange and brown leaf litter. In the centre lay the body they'd begun to excavate.
Despite the distance, Martina could tell there was something not quite right about the positioning of the bones.
"Oi." She called out to the nearest man in a white paper suit. He glanced up at her. Only his eyes were visible above the white mask he wore, and Martina fought down the urge to take a step back. It was unnerving to see so little of a person, and it didn't matter how many crime scenes she visited, she knew she would never get used to the impersonal nature of it all. "Who moved the body?"
The man glanced back down in the direction of the hollow, and shrugged. "No clue."
Martina sighed with frustration, as Ambrose joined her on the lip of the hollow. "What is it?" He sounded vaguely out of breath, and Martina wondered when he'd last visited the gym. Not that it was any of her business. If he wanted to resemble a human jelly-baby, then that was his business.
"Does the body look right to you?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.
"Well, it's a skeleton," Ambrose said. "It's not going to look right, is it?"
"That's not what I mean," Martina said, agitation colouring her words. "Look at it. The placement of the bones..." She trailed off as realisation overtook her mind. "The head is in the wrong place. That's not my imagination, is it?" She glanced up at Ambrose, who shrugged.
"I suppose not," he said somewhat unsatisfactorily. "But they said the kid who found the body moved the head."
"Right," she said, scrutinising the scene further. "I suppose animal predation could account for some of the distance between the bones."
"Bound to be a few foxes out here," Ambrose said.
With a sigh, Martina turned from her position on the hill when another shout went up from somewhere a little further into the woods. Following Ambrose through the undergrowth, they pushed out through the tangle of brambles and branches in time to see a forensics officer setting a perimeter around what looked suspiciously like nothing at all to Martina.
"What is it?" She asked, turning to the nearest SOCO who had tried to scuttle by her. "Are there more bones over here?"
The woman shook her head and then glanced back over her shoulder in the direction of the scene they'd begun cordoning off. "We don't think we've got another body," she said. "But until we take a better look, we won't know what we've got."
Martina felt her patience fraying. "Just spit it out. What is it?"
The woman heaved a sigh and glared at Martina over the rim of her mask as though she'd just been asked to lay her profession on the line. "Toys."
"Toys?" Ambrose parroted the word back, but when he said it, it sounded more like a question than a statement. Martina glanced over at him and noted the sudden pallor of his skin.
"Yeah, the kind children play with." The woman huffed out a breath behind the mask. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go."
"Wait, why would toys be so interesting?" Martina asked, but the woman they'd stopped wasn't listening, and had melted back into the growing melee among the trees.
"We should get out of here, before we muck it all up," Ambrose said, indicating that Martina should go back the way she'd come.
"Why would toys be so interesting?" she asked, as they both tracked through the woods to the higher vantage point that overlooked the position of the body.
Ambrose shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."
"I saw your face back there," Martina said. "You've thought of something that you're just not sharing with me."
He glanced down at the scene unfolding beneath them. "It's probably nothing."
"Your face says otherwise," she pressed.
Ambrose glanced over at her and pulled a face. "It's just when she mentioned toys, it made me think of the three kids who went missing from these parts several years ago."
"You think this could be them?"
Ambrose shrugged. "I've got no clue, Nicoll, but if it is, then we're going to have a hell of a job finding the person responsible after all this time. Not to mention it's going to rip al
l those old wounds right back open."
"But if it is, then it'll help the families who have lived with that pain all these years. They'll get some closure from it..."
Ambrose shook his head and stared down at his boots. "Yeah, maybe... And then again, maybe it'll just bring them more pain." He sighed. "I'm going to head back to the car and let the DI know what we've got here."
Martina nodded, barely registering what he'd just said. As far as she was concerned, this could be the case that brought her the attention she was after. And maybe she would move up in the ranks. With everything going on at home, a pay rise wouldn't go amiss.
She glanced down at the people moving carefully back and forth. Perhaps the night wasn't a complete loss after all.
Chapter Eleven
DC Martina Nicoll slipped her arms into the navy suit jacket she’d left out the night before. Silently, she tiptoed around the room, and picked up her black boots from their position next to the cream wooden chair by her bed. By the time she made it out onto the landing of the small council terrace house she shared with her parents, the grey morning light had crept in through the window at the top of the stairs.
The house was blissfully silent, and she contemplated stopping long enough to make a quick cuppa before she was due in on shift. With her mind made up, she slipped downstairs. Pausing outside the kitchen, she reached up and took the key from the ledge above the entryway. Careful to keep noise to a minimum, she unlocked the door, and slipped inside. Setting her boots on the floor by the back door, she moved confidently around the space. Grabbing her travel mug from the cupboard, she dropped in two tea bags from the box of Yorkshire tea in the cupboard. Filling the kettle, she set it back on its base and flicked it on, momentarily dazzled by the brilliant blue light that lit up the small kitchen.
Thankfully, they’d replaced the whistling kettle two weeks previously, and things were better now.
“You’re off out early, love.” Her father’s whispered voice took her by surprise, and Martina whirled around to face him. He stood framed in the doorway, the same grey cardigan he’d worn the night before, hung off his gaunt frame. Martina was certain it wasn’t her imagination that told her his cheeks were hollow, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were blacker than usual.
Hunting the Silence: The Yorkshire Murders (DI Haskell & Quinn Crime Thriller Series Book 4) Page 6