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Authors: Rc Bridgestock

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #British Detectives, #Police Procedurals, #Crime Fiction

Snow Kills (37 page)

BOOK: Snow Kills
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‘In the meantime then, I’ll see if there is anything else he wants to tell me now,’ said Mrs Best.

 

Dylan and Vicky left the cells.

‘That poor kid, she must have thought she was safe from the freezing cold weather by going to his house. It doesn’t bear thinking about what she went through, does it?’

‘And the frightening thing is it’s looking more than likely that she wasn’t their first victim.’

‘Quick cuppa to keep your strength up before we go to the mortuary, and then we’ll go to see Kim Harwood and Matt Prentice eh? You sure you’re okay to carry on?’

‘Most definitely boss. I want to make sure we absolutely nail this fucking pair.’

Dylan smiled. ‘There is one thing I must do though before I do anything else,’ Dylan said picking up the phone. Vicky nodded.

 

‘Dawn, is that you? Can I ask you a huge favour,’ he said.

‘Oh no. Most definitely not...’ she said.

‘But, I’ve a post mortem to go into,’ he exclaimed.

‘And the body isn’t going anywhere Jack, Jen and Maisy are.’

‘But the Home Office Pathologist isn’t going to wait ’til I take my wife and daughter to the train station, now is he? Please? I have no one else to ask.’

‘You should do this.’

‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. I never wanted this to happen.’

‘Okay. But don’t blame me when this ludicrous idea of sending Jen away blows up in your bloody face.’

‘I won’t. Jen will understand, you’ll see,’ he said, breathing a big sigh of relief.

 

 

 

Chapter 39

 

Mortuaries are places most people wish to avoid, but Dylan couldn’t, it was a big part of the investigation process. As SIO, he had to see and know first-hand the extent of the victim’s injuries, how they were caused and, most importantly, the cause of death. The same old smell greeted him – a mixture of stagnant water, damp, mouldy room and a butcher’s shop, combined with a refuse tip. It seemed to be absorbed in the dull white tiled walls. He knew the odour would remain on the clothes he was wearing until they were dry-cleaned. Putting a hand in his pocket, he pulled out his packet of extra strong mints. ‘Here, take one, they always work for me,’ he said to Vicky.

Now dressed in a green overall and plastic apron, they were joined by Stewart Viney from SOCO and the night Detective, who had been called in early for his shift to be exhibits officer at the mortuary.

Daniel Jones, the Home Office pathologist, had arrived and Dylan outlined the disappearance of Kayleigh Harwood to him. He went on to explain the discovery of the female body, the circumstances and the fact that he believed it to be Kayleigh, but that formal identification was to follow the post mortem. He also told him of the two arrests and the recent interview with Norris Regan and briefly what he said had taken place.

Daniel Jones started the examination. He was a strong, athletic young man with a steadfast hand and although he was quick with his examinations, he was very thorough. Dylan was impressed.

He spoke into his hand-held recorder as he surveyed the body laid out before him. ‘Initial visual check of the body is that of a female, around twenty years. She is well preserved, due to being kept in an electric chest freezer, which is where she was apparently found.’

The running commentary went on as he took relevant tapings, internal swabs and asked for close-up photographs by SOCO where necessary. Once he had completed the external examination, he prepared to remove the skull cap. The surgical saw whirred. The skull’s crack could only be likened to taking the top off a boiled egg. He examined the skull and the brain before opening the chest cavity and examining her internal organs. The examination lasted for two and a half hours. Dylan was grateful for Daniel’s swift hand and expert eye.

Once over, Daniel took them into the mortuary office and sat with them over a hot drink to talk through his findings. ‘As you are aware, she has bite marks to her breasts which I had photographed. These, I am confident, were inflicted some considerable time after her death. You will need teeth impressions from your suspects. She also has bruising to her arms and legs which appear to suggest she has been pinned down or held against her will. I removed some strands of material from the inside of her throat. There has obviously been a tremendous effort to stop her breathing with some type of material. There is bruising around her nose and mouth where intense pressure has been applied. The petechial haemorrhaging in her eyes means she was possibly strangled. Petechia occurs when the pressure in the brain causes the blood vessels to burst, and this is why her eyes appeared bloodshot and were bulging. The bruising around her neck is also consistent with strangulation. I think that she was probably rendered unconscious through strangulation at the same time of suffocation, there is also a fracture to her neck. This was a really vicious and sustained assault, in my opinion. The strangulation is the cause of death, and I think that the pressure over her mouth and nose simply delayed the last bit of oxygen leaving her lungs. However the pressure was such that, independently, either would have proved fatal.’

‘This was more than someone trying to stop her screaming or shouting, then?’ said Dylan.

‘Most certainly, whoever did this to her were out to kill her in my opinion. By the way, I’ve taken swabs as you are aware from her vagina, anus and mouth. I think looking at the bruising that someone has had sex with the body since her death which may also explain the bite marks I mentioned earlier to her breasts.’

‘I can’t thank you enough for your thoroughness,’ Dylan said.

 From what the Pathologist had just told them, he knew when it went to trial at the Crown Court the defence barristers would each blame the other perpetrator for causing Kayleigh’s death. Now Dylan needed to prove that it was a case of joint enterprise, used in murder cases where more than one defendant is involved, intent on carrying out a common purpose.

 

Jen stood on the platform, her suitcase at her feet. ‘No, no, don’t wait with us, I understand,’ she said to Dawn. ‘Of course you must get back to relieve Ralph of Violet before the restaurant opens.’

‘It’s the damn job, love. Dylan’s under a lot of pressure right now,’ Dawn smiled at her friend, feeling her pain.

 Jen nodded. It was a cold evening and easy to make the excuse that her tears were from the cool night air. She returned her friend’s kindly kiss on the cheek. Before Dawn left Jen reached for her hand and held it for a brief moment. Dawn answered with a little reassuring pressure of her fingers. ‘He would be here if he could, you know that,’ she said. Jen forced a smile and her teeth chattered as the cold wind whipped her. Dawn walked down the steps, looking back to wave before she turned the corner and vanished into the underground tunnel. The train pulled in. A guard stepped down. He pulled out his pipe, knocked it against a wall, stretched his legs and began to walk down the platform towards her. Jen took one last look up and down the empty dark platform. With a lump in her throat, she swallowed hard and struggled onto the train with her suitcase and a crying Maisy who was rested on her hip. The guard blew the whistle. The train jolted. She stumbled into a seat with the screaming child – and a foreboding that had followed her into the busy carriage.

 

Fortunately Kayleigh’s body had not decomposed and although she had extensive bruising to her mouth and nose, Dylan knew that make up would cover it, and minimise the shock that Kim and Matt were going to soon encounter. The mortuary attendant would see to this procedure before the viewing took place. Kayleigh was being prepared and her mutilated body would be carefully concealed with a starched white sheet, with the exception of her face.

Dylan looked at his watch. Jen and Maisy would be on the train. He sighed, his face grey and serious. ‘Come on Vicky; let’s get on with this bloody awful task.’

PC Jackie May’s job had been to bring Kim Harwood and Matt Prentice to a private room at the Hospital. She had, as instructed, only disclosed to them that the body of a girl had been found and they needed them to confirm whether it was Kayleigh.

Dylan and Vicky entered the room and saw the sudden relief on Jackie’s face. It was the most difficult of situations. What did you say to the bereaved family? What could anyone say?

Kim Harwood looked up. Her face was a wretched mask with shadowy holes for eyes. Painfully, for Dylan, it seemed as if Kim came to life when she saw him, as though he might offer her some hope. He nodded and when she saw his sombre expression she looked back to her hands that she continued to wring in her lap. She sat in silence, unmoving. Dylan had asked the Coroner’s Officer to attend to support the family and to guide them through what would happen. Retired policeman Geoff Painter was tall and wiry and didn’t need a uniform to look like a stereotypical police officer. The family would have many questions for him after they had identified her body and Geoff would deal with this admirably, Dylan knew.

Dylan quietly and sensitively told Kim and Matt what had happened in the past twenty four hours without going into any details. ‘Yesterday, we arrested a man from a house in Manchester Road after we uncovered that he lied to us about Kayleigh going to his house in search of shelter. While he was in custody, our enquiries led us to another house away from the area, the home of an acquaintance of his. He has also been arrested this morning and both men are, and let me assure you will remain, in custody. While searching an outbuilding at the second address, we found the body of a young girl hidden. We believe that to be Kayleigh.’ Kim gasped and inhaled deeply before letting out a wail.

‘No! Please,’ she cried.

Matt, appeared to freeze and Dylan couldn’t see him breathing, but then he saw the shock melt away and the young man stared at something in front of him that no one else could see. His face drained of all colour. Slowly everything seemed to return to normal and his eyes that were deep, dark and comprehending met Dylan’s. His mouth opened, then snapped shut. He gulped, ‘Who are they?’

‘It would be wrong of me to tell you now, but I promise you that I will let you know later. I understand that they are complete strangers to you and to Kayleigh,’ he said. Matt nodded.

After a short while Dylan asked if they felt up to looking through a glass screen at the girl they had found.

‘There is a table behind that window,’ he said nodding at the curtained windowpane. ‘The girl we have found is on that table. She is covered in a sheet up to her neck, so all you will see is her head. She looks serene and at peace.’

‘I think we need to get this over with as soon as possible,’ Matt said, finding his voice. He grabbed Kim’s hand.

They stood in front of the glass, then the drapes were pulled back. Kim let out a cry and a hand flew to her mouth. The scream ripped through Dylan’s heart and soul, bouncing off walls, ceilings and floor. It flooded the corridor and gushed like a tidal wave through the building and out into the yard beyond. Kim’s face was red, angry and contorted and then the tears came, streaming down her face as she pressed it against the cold glass. ‘Did he? Did they... rape my baby?’ she cried, her eyes searching Dylan’s face. ‘Don’t lie to me, please,’ she whispered.

Matt took a step back and put his head back against the wall, panting, hands hanging. Geoff Painter stepped forward and grabbed him under the arms.

 

‘You’re okay,’ he said. ‘Just a little light-headed and disorientated, it’s not unusual,’ he added, helping Matt to a chair and guiding the young man’s head between his legs.

‘If only I’d gone to meet her that night,’ he cried a few minutes later on the shoulder of the Coroner’s Officer.

Dylan put his arm around Kim. Her face was the colour of milk. ‘She’s safe now and nobody can hurt her any more. Just look how peaceful she is.’

Kim was shivering, and her trembling seemed to go far beyond her power of self-control. He could hear her teeth chattering and she looked very small and frail, like a frightened child. All the days and weeks of worrying, and her worst nightmare had come true.

‘We were the best of friends... you know. I miss her so, so much,’ she said, struggling with her words.

‘I know, Vicky said. Do you want to go inside to be with her?’ asked Dylan, kindly.

‘Am I allowed?’ she said but made no movement. He pushed her gently forward. ‘Come with me,’ he said taking her arm. ‘She’s your daughter, of course you’re allowed. Let me show you how at peace she is.’

Dylan opened the door and went inside with her to stand at the side of the table. Lavender oil had been sprinkled on the tired potpourri in a dish on the table and the smell was pungent. Unaware of anything but her daughter’s body, Kim put out her hand gingerly and tenderly stroked Kayleigh’s face. Kayleigh’s head was covered in what looked like a nun’s habit. Dylan stepped back and put his face closer to the glass, which reflected the ghostly flame of the candle lit in the opposite corner of the room. Kim bent to kiss Kayleigh on the forehead. ‘Mum’s here love. You’re safe now in Dad’s arms. No more pain. You’ll be safe now until we meet again.’

How the hell did anyone cope after something as horrific as this, he wondered. The family and friends were victims too. They lived the trauma, day after day. He knew the smallest thing could trigger off a memory. They had the life sentence, not the offenders.

Kim kissed Kayleigh once more on each eyelid, took a deep breath, wiped her eyes and then stepped away. ‘Night darling... for now,’ she said, kissing her finger tips and putting them to Kayleigh’s lips. She looked back at Dylan. ‘I’m ready now. I know where she is and that she’s safe in God’s hands with her dad,’ she said. ‘Tell me, what did my little girl ever do to anyone to deserve this?’ she added with a sob that caught in her throat.

 

Jen watched the lights of the railway stations float past the train’s windows, like shooting stars low in the night sky. Maisy thankfully slept. It was a small consolation. Once or twice she gave Jen a dreamy little wet smile and, with a tissue she had used to dry her own eyes, Jen patted her daughter’s face lovingly.

BOOK: Snow Kills
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