She knew it had been worth it, though. Keeping that prat, and everyone else, out of the sacristy for those valuable fifteen minutes had yielded a wealth of footage and photographs that captured the crime scene. Kate mentally recapped the shots she had taken… the smeared blood on the marble tile floor… the blood spatters on the wall, on the vestments hanging in the cupboard… the footprint in blood by the exterior door and the bloody finger smears on the doorknob and doorframe… all preserved now.
She’d taken video footage as well, using her digital camera to record the interior of the sacristy, zooming in on the critical areas of blood stain and debris. It was a grisly crime scene, and not one anyone would soon forget.
Or ever forget, thought Kate, pausing to set her camera bag down beside her and lean against one of the old willows that peppered the property. An eidetic memory and extremely sensitive observation skills were a boon for her work but meant that the things she saw and experienced as a part of that work were intense and lasting. Her sensitivities had been crippling when she was younger, leading to anxiety attacks, but time had helped her to learn how to cope with the overwhelming feelings, and even learn to utilize them. Like her former boss, Neville Crane had once said, she “had the eye”.
Kate sighed, a small wave of sadness washing over her. A month ago she had been a new addition to the Lambeth team, working her first London murder, bantering with Neville over her tardiness. And then he was gone… struck down by a police officer’s bullet. It was a good shoot, to be sure. Justified, even. After all, she had discovered that Neville Crane was, in fact, the Regent’s Park killer. But her memory kept Kate from forgetting the man he had been, or at least the one she had known, and so it still hurt. The upcoming inquest, and the requirement that she testify as to her role in the death of Neville Crane, wasn’t helping either. She sighed again, turning to look back toward the church.
And then she saw him. He quickly descended the church steps, his movements quick, precise and somehow graceful, and Kate found herself wondering if he might be a good dancer. Not that typical jerky club fare, but a real dancer, who held you and guided you around the floor. She watched him as he paused, running a hand through his somewhat unruly dark waves, his brown eyes scanning the area as if looking for someone, and Kate immediately wondered if Detective Sergeant Richard Pierce was looking for her.
The answer came swiftly, as Pierce looked in her direction, a broad smile illuminating his acutely handsome face. God, he’s gorgeous, Kate thought as she answered his wave with one of her own. He started walking toward her, and Kate quickly reached into her right pocket for her cigarettes, hoping one would calm the butterflies in her stomach. She relished the first puff, the smoke billowing like a cloud in the cold October air. She sighed and glanced up to see just how close Rick was. But Rick wasn’t there, wasn’t anywhere. Kate frowned and glanced around, her eyes searching the bank of reporters still scrambling around the police line, the forensics officers buzzing in and out of the church, the PCs and detectives…
Her right pocket vibrated as her mobile rang, and Kate quickly answered it. “Gardener.”
“Kate.”
“Oh, hi, Rick.” Kate’s smile faded slightly as a puzzled frown descended on her brow. “Where are you?”
“Right behind you.”
The smile re-emerged as Kate turned to face Pierce. He was leaning against one of the willows, his posture casual, yet with an undercurrent of readiness for action.
“Cute, Rick.” She hung up the phone and pocketed it. “You’re lucky I don’t carry a weapon. Never sneak up on a New Yorker.”
Pierce chuckled. “I’ll try to remember that.” He glanced toward the church, then motioned toward her still, smoking a cigarette. “Can I have one of those?”
“Sure,” Kate replied, reaching into her pocket for the pack. “I’ve certainly smoked enough of yours.”
“Yes, you have.” Pierce quickly lit his cigarette and ducked behind the willow, using its girth to shield him from view. “In fact, I think this might be the first one of yours I’ve ever had.”
“Okay, okay, I owe you cigarettes, I got it,” Kate laughed.
Pierce exhaled a cloud of smoke, then flashed another charming smile. “How about we forget the cigarettes, and you just buy me a drink later?”
“Deal.” Kate offered her hand, and they shook on it. Kate frowned again. “Uh, Rick? Why are you hiding behind the tree?”
Pierce glanced around the tree trunk toward the church before replying. “Hagen. He doesn’t like me smoking at crime scenes.”
“Ah. Well, technically, we aren’t at the crime scene right now. Merely on the property. Which is probably illegal or something. Can you smoke on church property here?”
Pierce paused a moment. “I don’t know of any law against it.”
“I’m amazed.”
“I heard you had a bit of a go-around with the pathologist.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he volunteered that juicy bit of info as soon as you guys walked into the sacristy, didn’t he?”
“Almost.”
Kate’s blue eyes flashed with anger. “Well, I’m sure what he neglected to tell you is that he did NOT have his shoe covers on when he attempted to come in. Or his gloves. And he wanted the exterior door opened so his people could come in that way, even though fingerprints had not been lifted or anything!”
Pierce nodded slowly. “He most definitely skipped over that part.”
Kate snorted. “I’ll just bet he did.”
Pierce took another drag of his cigarette, blowing out the smoke in a slow cloud. “Zielinski’s… bitter. Rumor has it he was passed over for the chief position in favor of Monaghan.”
Kate grimaced. “Ouch. Okay, that explains that a bit.” She sighed. “Some men just can’t seem to handle a strong woman being over them.”
“I suppose,” Pierce murmured, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stamping it out carefully. “Some men know exactly how to handle a strong woman over them.”
“Oh? And how is that?”
A smile twitched at the corner of Pierce’s mouth. He raised his eyes and looked at Kate as he replied. “Any way she would like to be… handled.”
Kate’s eyes narrowed, though she could feel her heart rate increase. She wasn’t sure where this flirtatious mood was coming from, but she had to admit she liked it.
“So…,” Kate began with a smile, “Did the good superintendent send you out to look after me?”
Pierce chuckled at that. “Uh, no, actually, though he did mention something about the possibility that you would be out here securing the rest of the property.”
“In my defense, I did not secure the sacristy. That deacon did.” Kate tossed her cigarette to the ground, step it out before continuing. “And you, and Hagen, will be happy to know that the property is safe at the moment.”
“I don’t suppose you found anything interesting while you were out here securing the perimeter?”
“Funny. Actually…” Kate shouldered her camera bag and motioned for him to follow her. “C’mon, I want to show you something.”
The pair marched off toward the far end of the property, weaving around willow trees and shuffling through fallen leaves.
“Where are we going?” Pierce asked. Up ahead was a makeshift fence, cobbled together from old steel shelving poles and chicken wire. Beyond that fence, Pierce could see the ground dropped off, sloping down to the railroad cutting that abutted the church’s property.
“Over here,” Kate replied, pointing to a small area. It was a small area, not much bigger than an average size gazebo, and about the same shape, too. Low garden fencing marked out the boundary of the plot, and at its center lay a large slab of granite. Behind the granite stood a statue of a weeping angel.
Pierce frowned. “It’s a cemetery.”
Kate sighed. “Yeah.”
Pierce stepped carefully over the little garden fencing, instinctively making the Sign of the Cro
ss as he stepped into this littlest of graveyards. “It can’t be for the parish, it’s too small.”
Kate quickly stepped over the fence and over to the granite slab, crouching down beside it. She touched the stone lightly, then looked up at Pierce, her eyes moist. “Babies.”
Pierce crouched down beside her and looked at the large slab, and the writing on it. “’A voice was heard in Ramah, sobbing and loud lamentation; Rachel weeping for her children, and she would not be consoled, since they were no more.’” Pierce cleared his throat. “This is for…”
“The unborn. It’s a burial plot for aborted babies.” Kate ran her fingers along the granite, touching various points as she continued. “You can see where the paint has been washed off here, and here. It’s been repeatedly vandalized.”
Pierce stood again. “It hasn’t been here long. You can see the grass is barely grown and spotty. I wonder if Father Coyle was responsible for this.”
Kate rose. “You don’t think someone actually bashed the guy’s head in because he made a memorial for aborted babies, do you?”
Pierce shrugged. “I’ve seen stranger motives for murder.”
“I suppose,” Kate conceded, stepping carefully along the side of the granite slab toward the chicken wire fence.
“Be careful, Kate. It’s a steep grade on the other side.”
Kate waved her hand in acknowledgment. “Yeah, I know. I just want to get a look at this back corner. It looks like someone broke the corner off with something he…” Kate stopped trailed off, her eyes fixed on the ground. “Rick? We need Scene-of-Crime out here now.”
Pierce stepped quickly to her side, his mobile already in-hand. He looked down on the ground, his eyes widening.
Lying on the ground was a large statue of Our Lady of Grace. It was clearly heavy, probably made of cast iron. Doubtless it had come from the garden near the rectory, or perhaps the prayer garden in the side yard of the church. It was covered in all-weather ivory paint, at least what he could see of it because the entire statue was stained with blood.
“The murderer threw it here. That’s how the corner was damaged.” Pierce quickly dialed his phone and put it to his ear. “They probably thought no one would find it out here. Paul?” Pierce moved two steps away as he spoke to the detective constable. “Paul, we need Scene-of-Crime out here now. In the back corner of the property, northeast near the cutting. There’s a small cemetery.” He glanced at Kate, who already had her camera out of the bag and was quickly shooting video of the weapon and surrounding area. “Miss Gardener found the murder weapon.”
Kate zoomed the camera in, getting as much of a close-up as she could of the statue and the ground surrounding it. It was dark over here, too dark for traditional pictures, but the video footage would be useful. Plus, when the Scene-of-Crime guys made their way over, they would have at least one of those spiffy lights to brighten things up. At least, she hoped so.
She moved back a few steps, trying to get a wide angle of the monument and statue. That’s when she heard it… a rustling sound, like tennis shoes shuffling through leaves. Kate glanced at Pierce, who was busy on the phone with Owens, then slowly she moved a few steps toward the noise. She could feel the adrenaline beginning to pump through her, anticipating the creature or whatever that could come out of the bushes at any moment.
Nothing did come out, though. Kate stopped, looking back once more at Pierce. Still on the phone. There it was again... the same sound, and it was coming from directly in front of her. Her brain was telling her not to crouch, not to move closer. After all, whatever it was was cornered there, with she and Pierce blocking it in, and the fence and cutting beyond forming another barrier.
Silencing the voices of warning, Kate crouched down and turned the video camera so that its light shone into the bushes. What looked back at her was not a dog, or cat, or fox or any number of other woodland creatures or wild animals that could have been lurking there…
It was a boy. At least, he looked like a boy, his face pale and smooth, a sensitive mouth and large eyes that were quite terrified at the moment. But what she could see of his body told Kate he was decidedly not a boy, but a grown man. Maybe in his twenties, to still be so baby-faced, but definitely fully-grown. His clothes were simple, slacks and a long-sleeved thermal shirt.
They were also smeared with blood. There were several large patches on his right arm, and the front of the shirt was peppered with blood spatter. He was staring back at her, his eyes wide, terrified, like a deer ready to run.
Kate took a deep breath, swallowed hard, hoping her voice would be clear, yet soft when she spoke. “Hey there,” she said softly. “I’m Kate.”
He stared at her, shivering and shaking.
“Are you okay, are you hurt?” For the first time, Kate noticed the quiet, that special kind of night quiet, as if the world is holding its breath until the first rays of sunlight begin to illuminate the sky in the east. Dawn was coming… she could see that lightening in the sky already. In the distance, a morning freight train blared its horn, signaling at the crossings as it passed through.
“Kate? You all right?”
Kate could feel that Pierce was moving closer, even if she hadn’t heard the crunch of his shoes in the leaves behind her. The train horn blew again, closer this time.
“Kate?”
The “boy” bolted, rushing out of the bushes and sending Kate tumbling backward. He launched himself over the chicken wire fence and disappeared down the embankment.
Pierce hurried to her side, reaching out a hand to help her up, but Kate waved him away with an, “I’m fine! Go get him!” Pierce quickly hopped over the fence and disappeared down the embankment.
It was steep. Not sheer, by any means, but a much steeper angle than Pierce had expected. Even as the low-hanging branches snapped against him, he was grateful that the small trees were there to help slow him down and control his descent. The sky was beginning to lighten, and he could just make out the cutting below and the movement of the young man he was pursuing. At least, he thought it was a young man. There had not been much opportunity to stop and get a look before this pursuit began.
Pierce could hear the echoing of a train horn drawing closer as he stumbled out of the brush and to the more level ground of the railway cutting. He paused, only for a moment, to gauge where the kid had gone. Spotting him up ahead, Pierce took off running again.
The train was getting closer, and would probably come through the cutting in a matter of seconds. The kid was slowing, the intensity of his flight beginning to take its toll, and was looking around for a way out. Pierce could see the railway underpass ahead… it was a steep climb, to be sure, but not impossible, and the kid was certainly capable of successfully attempting it. The kid seemed to be thinking the same thing, too and slowed down to look at the steep incline beside him.
A blast of the horn announced the arrival of the train and a moment later it came around the corner behind Pierce. The kid whirled at the sound of the horn, taking small steps toward the railway tracks. Pierce put on a burst of speed, hoping the kid was not going to attempt what it looked like he was thinking about.
The kid suddenly ran out onto the tracks, stopping in the middle and standing to face the train, his eyes tightly closed. The train blared its horn as the sounds of brakes created a cacophony of squealing and grinding that echoed and re-echoed through the cutting.
Oh no, you don’t… Pierce glanced briefly over his shoulder, gauging the train distance. He could feel his lungs burning, his leg muscles starting to ache as he pushed his body to the limit. All… most… there…
Pierce veered up onto the tracks and lunged for the kid, his momentum sending the pair flying off the tracks and tumbling down into the gravel siding. He felt the pain in his shoulder the minute they hit the ground, a familiar pain since Pierce had dislocated his shoulder in the past. He whispered a silent prayer that it would be an easy reduction and recovery this time, then carefully sat up to check on the kid.
Still alive, and apparently unharmed. Pierce winced as he turned to look down the track. Owens was running toward them followed by a pair of uniformed PCs… and Kate.
3
2 November 2011
Murder Squad, New Scotland Yard
Hagen carefully sipped his cup of chai tea, allowing the mélange of spices to calm and refresh him. It had been a long night on the scene that continued into a full day at work. When he was younger, Hagen had relished the adrenalin and intensity of burning the candle at both ends. Now… well, he didn’t want to chalk it up to aging, but he had to admit that nights like this drained him.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and made him pause mid-sip.
“Yes?” The door opened and Owens stuck his head in.
“Sir? I just spoke to DI Beaumont in Specialist Crime. She’ll messenger the files over this afternoon.”
“Good. Thank you, Paul.”
Owens disappeared, then quickly reappeared. “Oh, and sir? Sergeant Pierce is back from A&E. Did you still want to see him?”
Hagen sighed. “Yes, Paul, send him in.”
Owens disappeared, and Pierce entered, closing the door behind him.
Hagen took in the appearance of his sergeant, from the brush burn along his jawline to the sling on his left arm. “The shoulder again?”
Pierce nodded slowly as he carefully sat down in the chair across from Hagen. “Yes, sir.”
“Rick, you should have gone home.”
Pierce smiled ruefully. “And do what, sir? Drink too much, smoke too much and watch really bad television? I’m better off here.” He shifted, wincing as the movement disturbed his shoulder.
“How long will you be in that?” Hagen asked, pointing at the sling.
Pierce sighed. “The doctor said at least a month.”
“Bollocks. Why so long?”
“Too many dislocations,” Pierce replied. “This is the third… no, wait… fourth time. He said I need to get it pinned, or something.”
De Profundis (Kate Gardener Mysteries Book 2) Page 2