Maybe it was a tree, maybe it was him. She shook her head. Was she being silly? Maybe it was nothing at all and the person standing on the lane had a good reason. Or, maybe it was some sicko that got off on scaring women who were walking alone in the dark. She thought back to the news, to Amber, and wondered if she had been stalked by her killer. No specific information surrounding the murder had been released. The only thing the media had concentrated on was a call for witnesses to get in touch.
Amber could have been killed by someone she knew, a boyfriend or a relative. One murder didn’t mean there was a stalking killer prowling the streets. She was letting her imagination run away with her and it had to stop otherwise she’d send herself into a panic. She shivered and carried on towards the pub, searching for any sign of life or safe looking human activity.
Time to let her hair down and live a little, maybe even take some risks. Like Nanna said, you’re not young forever and she was only going to be twenty for another month.
13
Gina smiled as she grabbed the steaming hot mug of coffee that DCI Chris Briggs had left for her in the kitchen. He’d started doing that a bit more often. He’d make her a drink when he made himself one and send her a message to say it was in the kitchen. She hurried to the incident room and watched Briggs quietly from the entrance.
He faced the board that had been covered with writing and photos of their victim, Amber Slater. Her long dark hair splayed out, bobbing on the water. A slimy film covering the sides of her face and her shoulders, which jutted out of the shallow lake water. His broad figure covered the rest up. If they weren’t at the station, she would have loved to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. He reached across with his bulky hand and pinned another photo to the board. ‘Gina.’
How did he know she was there?
‘I could smell your body spray.’ It was as if he’d sensed what she was thinking. Like they were in tune. The thought of him recognising her smell made her heart jump slightly. She’d used the same perfumed deodorant for years. ‘It smells good.’
‘I’m surprised I don’t smell like a cesspit after the day I’ve had. It’s been a here, there and everywhere day, sir.’
‘You always smell lovely.’ She glanced back, checking that they were alone. He continued. ‘Your first thoughts?’
She hated it when he asked this question. It was early in the investigation and she always had so many threads running through her mind at this stage. She swallowed and paused for a moment as she got her thoughts in order. ‘Amber Slater was placed in that spot to be found. Her body was almost on the bank where the lake water meets the earth. Looking at where our killer could have parked, it would have taken a lot of effort to get her there but there was no further effort to weigh the body down in the water. We don’t know how she got there yet but I’m hoping the crime scene crew have found some drag marks or footprints. The weather hasn’t helped though. We’ve had frost, ice and a thaw. It’s been wet, windy and the lake was still busy with joggers and dog walkers regardless of this.’
‘You’ve spoken to a lot of people so far. What are your initial thoughts on them?’ He slid a chair out at the head of the table and sat. His lilac tie was loosened at his neck.
‘Okay, the first person Wyre and I interviewed was Otis Norton. He called in after discovering the body. He said he was out walking, but he seemed to be dressed in his best clothes while taking a break from looking after his ill wife. It seems odd for him to be there, dressed like that for no reason. I mean, maybe I’m wrong and that’s just what he does but it didn’t feel right. Something was off and at the moment I can’t think what.’
Briggs smiled. ‘Suspect everyone until we’ve eliminated them, that’s what we do.’ He leaned back and began to play with a Biro, twiddling it between his chunky index finger and thumb. ‘Who else?’ As he leaned forward a little, the light from above the table caught the grey flecks in his dark hair.
‘The chef at the Fish and Anchor, a Jake Goodman. He’s a young man, not much older looking than Amber. When I showed him the photo of Amber, I knew he recognised her but he said he didn’t. We need to check him out further.’ She could feel the warmth coming from his body and she wanted more. It had been so cold in the station but Briggs was rarely cold. She moved to sit at the opposite end of the large table and the strip light flickered. The fan heater clicked off and the room was plunged into silence.
‘Anyone else?’
Gina pressed her lips together as she thought back to the university visit. ‘Mr Collins, the management accountancy lecturer. He took some of Amber’s classes and he told us that Amber had become scared after she thought someone was taking photos of her in the student car park, but he failed to report it. He seemed to get the hump when I probed about how well they knew each other. Again, we need to keep him on our radar for now.’ Gina glanced up at the photos again. ‘Bernard said that it looked like the killer had glued her lips together.’
‘An attempt to silence her?’
Gina nodded. ‘Looks that way. About what? That is the question. Did he think she knew something or was she simply making too much noise?’
Briggs paused. ‘I miss you when you’re not around. I miss your company. It’s not just the—’
‘I know.’ She stopped him mid-sentence as voices echoed through the corridor. DC O’Connor and DS Jacob Driscoll were approaching. Gina checked her watch. Wyre should be back with the sandwiches at any moment. Her stomach rumbled. She gripped her mug and took a long drink of the almost cold coffee as the heater whirred back into action.
Briggs stood and massaged his chin. ‘Right, you’re going to be the Senior Investigating Officer on this one, Harte. Report straight to me on everything you find. Any problems, call. I’ll leave you to the briefing while I deal with the press updates. Obviously, I sent out a holding statement earlier, including an appeal for witnesses, so that we had a chance to speak to Mr Slater, Amber’s father. The victim wasn’t named but, as per usual, local social media are on our tail. It looks like her friend Lauren has already posted that it must be Amber on theWhat’s Up CleevesfordFacebook page. Amber’s father will be at her apartment in the morning and will be coming in to the station again. After the viewing with Jacob and O’Connor, he was so distraught they thought he might need an ambulance for shock but he came round a little and said he needed to be alone for now. He’s given full permission as her next of kin to enter her property and search everything. It’s good that we have his complete cooperation. He wants her killer found.’ And there he was, straight back into his DCI role.
The human element of all the cases she’d ever worked on was the worst. She thought of Amber’s father and the pain he must be going through. ‘I’ll obviously be available in the morning to speak to him. I’ll try to arrange to meet him at her apartment.’
‘Great, I’ll leave you to the briefing. Get everyone up to date and work out a plan.’ Briggs hesitated for a moment longer than needed before leaving. A prickle ran up her neck. He still hadn’t fully forgiven her for her distinct lack of trust in him during the last case. She still had some work to do if their friendship was to survive.
Jacob burst through the door, deep in conversation about an episode ofQueen of the Souththat he and O’Connor were watching on Netflix.
‘No spoilers, I said. Damn you!’ O’Connor gave Jacob a friendly shove as they entered. His usually bald head had a layer of prickly fair hair growing from his scalp. His cheeks were rosy from coming out of the cold and into a room where the heater had been chugging out warmth for hours.
Gina glanced at the condensation on the windows and listened to the pattering of rain that scattered over the panes, rattling the frames occasionally. She twisted her damp hair at the nape of her neck and tucked it up in a bun. Wyre entered with the sandwiches and placed them in the middle of the table. It was going to be a long evening. She glanced back at the photos that Bernard had sent. Ligature marks on Amber Slater’s wrists, ankles, neck and waist. Her sore-looking lips made Gina shudder. She licked her own cracked lips and flinched at the thought. She hated the feeling even when she had a slight crack in them.
Grabbing a cheese and pickle sandwich from the pile, she opened the plastic wrapper and pulled the wholemeal triangle out, careful not to scatter grated cheese all over the floor as she took a bite.
Her phone beeped and an email from Bernard flashed up.
As she scanned down his preliminary findings, she felt nauseous at the last thing on the list. Stomach turning, she threw the sandwich on the table. Whoever could do that to a person had to be a complete sadist.
