It was the tears that made her angry though. The womans face was dirty, but there were streaks where her tears had run through the dirt as she choked on the leaves and looked up at the man who ended her life.
Is it another one of our own? Laura said.
Carson just shrugged that he didnt know.
The first victim had been the daughter of a Blackley police officer. Gangland revenge had been ruled out, because her father was just uniform, seeing out his career patrolling in a van and doling out advice to young officers who would soon overtake him. Tales of the womans private life had made everyone think that it was a jealous ex-lover, or a frightened husband worried about his affair leaking out.
What do you think? Carson said.
Laura saw that his eyes were fixed on her, and she knew that it was a test. Carson was checking whether Joe had been right to ask for her to be on the team.
She took a deep breath and had another look along the body.
She was alive when all of that was jammed in there, Laura said, and pointed to the womans genitals.
Why do you say that?
Those scratches and scrapes along the womans legs have drawn blood, she said, and pointed towards trails of ragged skin that had since dried brown. They will have been caused when he jammed the leaves and dirt up there, inside her, and so it must have happened when she was still alive. The dead dont bleed.
Carson gave a nod. Why is that important?
It makes it more likely that she was killed here rather than just dumped, she said. And we might get some of his DNA from her thighs or face.
Provided he wasnt wearing gloves.
Laura raised her eyebrows. That goes without saying.
Carson nodded. What about the clothes? he said. She didnt walk down here naked.
Hes got some forensic awareness, because he realised that his DNA would be all over her, Laura said. He took the clothes away to stop him from being identified, which makes it more likely that he wore gloves, as a precaution. And hes cool.
What do you mean? Carson asked.
Look around, Laura said, and she pointed towards the houses that overlooked the scene. All it would take is for someone to look out of their bedroom window, or even hear the struggle, and we would be down here. An eye-witness is the best we can hope for right now, unless hes slipped up.
Anything else?
Laura looked at the body, and as she felt Carsons stare bore into her, she tried to think of something she might have missed. Or maybe he was just trying to make her spout wild theories to use against her later. She wasnt the only woman on the team, but she still felt like she had to prove herself for spoiling the macho party, and shed heard the little digs that she was Joes new favourite.
Then it struck her.
If she was alive when he was filling her with soil, it meant that she wasnt being raped when she died, Laura said. If all of that was in there, he couldnt have been, and so whatever he did afterwards was just to degrade her.
Carson tilted his head and Laura saw the skin around his eyes crinkle. It looked like there was a smile there. Test passed.
Laura looked at Joe and saw that he was still staring intently at the corpse.
What is it, Joe? Carson asked.
Joe didnt respond at first. That was just his way, quiet, contemplative, but then he rose to his feet, his knees cracking, and looked down.
This isnt going to end, he said, his voice quiet.
Why do you say that? Laura said.
Because he has attacked before, and once you start, you dont stop, he said.
We know hes done this before, Carson said, his brow furrowed. Three weeks ago.
No, even before then, Joe said, and gestured towards the body with a nod of his head. The signature is so fixed. The debris and soil in the vagina, the mouth, the anus. Too much like the last one. But why does he do it? No one just chances on that, the perfect method. Signatures grow and develop. This one? Its a replica of the first.
Carson sighed behind his mask. This is sounding like a long haul, he said, almost to himself.
Joe shot worried glances at Laura and Carson. We havent got the time for that, he said. We need to catch him quickly, because the gap will shorten.
Are you sure about that?
Joe nodded. These murders are three weeks apart, but identical methods were used. Hes found his style and likes it.
Why is all that dirt in there? Laura asked.
Joe looked down at the body, then he looked at Carson, and then at Laura.
I dont know, he said slowly. And we will need to work that out if we are going to catch whoever did this, but I do know one thing: hes going to want to do it again.
Chapter Four
Jack put his camera away as he watched the activity at the crime scene.
He had managed some shots of the white suits as they were bent over the body, knowing that Dolby would like those. And as hed zoomed in, hed recognised one of the white suits as Laura McGanity, his partner.
He smiled to himself. No, not partner. Fiancée. They had been engaged for a few months now, but things had changed since hed proposed. Laura had thrown herself back into her career, and it seemed they saw each other only briefly in the house, pit-stops between her shifts. She complained that he was showing no commitment, that he was stalling about the wedding, but it was more that they didnt have the time to talk about it. Laura wanted it low-key, because she had been married before, a marriage that produced a son, Bobby, the main brightness in their lives, eight years old now. Both of Jacks parents were dead and so he had no one to offend by keeping it small, but it felt like it wasnt the same big deal for her, because Laura had already had the big white wedding with all the trimmings.
As he watched her, Jack knew that Laura was the reason why Dolby had asked him to cover the story, hoping for an inside line, maybe a loose word over supper. But Jack knew better: Laura wouldnt give anything crucial away. Having a reporter as her squeeze had caused her enough trouble before, hints and jibes that she was whispering secrets along the pillow. It would only take one lazy article, where he forgot what was official and what was secret, and Laura could lose her job.
The crowd around the police tape had grown, from the simply curious passing through, some with dogs straining on leads, the police blocking access to the usual dog-walking path, to the unemployed looking for a way to fill the day. Teenagers hung around on bikes, some just watching, others riding in tight circles, all in black, hoods drawn over their faces in spite of the warmth, laughing and talking too loudly. Young mothers smoked and gossiped, and two men at the end were drinking from a can of Tennents, which was passed between them as they watched the police at work. A police van drifted across the junction at the top of the street.
All the activity was taking place in a small patch of trees between some houses, the police in the shadows, talking in small clusters. Some flowers had already arrived and been placed by a lamppost, although the identity of the body hadnt been released yet.
Jack approached the crime scene tape, hoping to overhear the police talking, but as he got near, a female officer put her hand up.
Jack approached the crime scene tape, hoping to overhear the police talking, but as he got near, a female officer put her hand up.
You need to move away, she said, the light tremble in her voice telling him that she was new to the force.
Im a reporter, he said, and then he pointed to where the body had been found. Do we have a name?
She shook her head and repeated, You need to move away.
I dont want to get closer. I just want to find out who she is. Do you know yet?
She was about to shake her head, but she stopped herself and put up her hand. Please, move away.
Can you tell me anything? Jack persisted. How did she die? When did she die?
No, Im sorry, I cant tell you anything, she said, her voice firmer now. Jack could tell that he had annoyed her.
He smiled an apology and then turned away as he realised that he wasnt going to get anything else from the scene. He checked his watch. No information would be released for a few hours, and so it was time to go to court, the crime reporters fallback, low-life tales of shame from the grim streets of Blackley. That was how Jack made his living, writing up court stories. He would have to speak to Dolby about the Whitcroft article later, because he got the sense that it wasnt going to amount to much, despite the shopkeepers views. Perhaps he would go back later, when the sun had gone down.
Jack watched the crowd for a few seconds more, as they waited for a glimpse of something they didnt really want to see, like knitters at the guillotine, but it felt grubby, like he wasnt really that different to them. He had just found a way to make money from the excitement, thats all.
He turned to walk towards his car. No one really noticed him going, and so he turned his thoughts to what might lie ahead at the courthouse.
The police van drove slowly past the crime scene. He couldnt help but look, but as he glanced over, he could hear a ticking sound. Not loud. Just like a scratching noise on the inside of his skull. It wasnt enough to distract him or make him close his eyes.
He allowed himself a smile. Now was the time. It had taken longer than hed expected for her body to be found, considering that the path nearby was used by joggers and dog-walkers. He must have concealed it well.
He turned away when he saw people look over. The gaggle of the crowd. Someone taking photographs. Like fucking sheep heading for the pen. The first stretch of the crime scene tape and they all shuffle forward. All of that thrill could have been theirs, but theyre spineless, like leeches, second-hand thrill-seekers.
And then the images came back to him in flashes, bright snapshots of her clothes, of her walking, the cloth moving against her soft skin, young and unblemished. Not knowing. Just another night. Then that look in her eyes. The flash of fear replaced by anger, and then back to fear when she knew that her time had come.
Then it came, like always, the sharp focus, where he could see everything more clearly than ever before, in more detail than is possible with the naked eye. Her pupils, black saucers, but he could see the other colours in them too, swirls of dark green and deep blue, the clear view broken only by the flecks of spittle that bubbled up when she first went to the floor. And the coughs of mud. He could see the soil turning in the air in front of him as she spluttered, tumbling in the fading sunlight. Just tiny specks, but he could see their form, uneven and dirty. He remembered the whites of her eyes. He had seen the veins in them and how they were broken by the small explosions of red, just pinpricks, like splashes as the blood came to the surface.
He grinned as he felt the familiar tremble in his groin as he thought of her struggling, the fight under his hand. He knew it would come. He was waiting for it. He liked to feel it, to control it. He could do that, control it, so that it was a present for later, something he had to touch, to feel in his hand as he thought of her struggling and then slowly giving up the fight, her body limp.
He gave the crowd a salute but no one was watching as he slipped away.
Chapter Five
Laura leaned against her car and peeled off her forensic suit. The hood had made a mess of her hair, dark and long, and so she used the wing mirror to tease it back to life. The body had been taken away, rolled onto plastic sheeting and then wrapped up in a bag, and was on its way to the mortuary. Now it was time for the fingertip search of the undergrowth, and she could see the line of police in blue boiler suits waiting to crawl their way through the small patch of woodland. Joe was looking back towards where the body had been found, his hood pulled from his head. Carson was in his car, talking into his phone.
What is it, Joe? Laura said, reaching into her car for her suit jacket.
He didnt answer at first, his gaze trained on where the stream headed under the estate. Then he turned round, chewing his lip.
Something about this isnt right, he said.
What do you mean?
The location. It doesnt make any sense. Why here?
That occurred to me too, she said, and looked again at the houses that backed onto the crime scene, a line of wooden fence panels forming the boundary on both sides.
It isnt secluded at all, Joe continued. One scream from her and all of those lights are going to flicker on, and what escape route is there? There is only one way to the street, because the other way is down that path, into the woods, but he couldnt get a car down there. So if he drove to the location, he would have had to leave his car on the street, and so he would be blocked in and easy to catch.
Perhaps she was just walking past? Laura said. You know, the wrong place at the wrong time, and he was hiding in there, waiting to pull someone in.
Same thing applies, Joe said. Too many houses. What if she fought back? If she ran or screamed? There is a whole community to wake. And you saw how the body was concealed, just left on the ground and covered in leaves and bark. She was always going to be discovered. He sighed. It just doesnt feel right.
Youre giving the killer too much credit, Laura said. How many people do we catch because they do dumb things? She checked her hair in the mirror again, and then pulled away when the sun glinted off some grey strands. So what do you think?
Joe looked around again. It must have been the victim he was after, not someone random. He wouldnt have chosen this location unless it was the only place he could get to her, and this is all about the victims, not the killer. We need to know about her.
They both turned as they heard a noise behind them, and they saw it was Carson, grunting as he climbed out of his car.
Weve got a possible name for her, Carson said. Jane Roberts.
Dont know it, Laura said.
No, me neither, Carson responded. But I know her father. Don Roberts.
Laura shrugged, the name didnt mean anything to her, but she saw the look of surprise on Joes face.
The Don Roberts? Joe said.
Carson nodded. It was called in yesterday, when she didnt return home at the weekend.
How sure can we be? Joe said.
The description matches, and she doesnt live too far away.
Its Wednesday today. Why would Don leave it so long? Laura asked.