The blood from the fatal wound had pooled to the left of her body, flowing quickly and staining the ground as it moved.
Kim glanced at the edge of the pool and frowned, but she put the thought aside while Mitch took the last of his photos.
Over the years, she’d attended every type of crime. Torturous scenes where the victim had been made to suffer for hours. Frenzied encounters where emotion and erratic thinking had led to multiple wounds. Crime scenes made to look like accidents. Murders staged to mimic suicide. This didn’t fit into any of these categories.
This kill was what she called functional. The cause of death told her a lot less than the manner of death. This wasn’t a spurned lover or a rage-filled enemy. There was no fanfare. There were no messages, no game playing, not even an obvious emotional connection. Their killer had decided this person had to die, and it was no more complicated than that.
The question that would steer the course of this investigation was why?
‘Okay, you’re good to go,’ Mitch said, stepping away.
Kim was careful to avoid the blood puddle as she took gloves from Bryant and headed for the handbag.
Bryant did the same sidestep around the blood and picked up the sports bag.
She unzipped the handbag and reached inside for the purse. The driver’s licence told her everything she needed to know. The victim’s name was Ashley Reynolds, thirty-four years old, and she lived less than a mile from where they were standing.
‘Just the man,’ she said as Inspector Plant approached.
His brow furrowed as he got closer. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be at Tally Ho getting a?—?’
‘Our victim,’ she said, cutting him off and handing him the driving licence.
‘Thanks – always get the good jobs,’ he sighed.
Most police officers she knew would choose to walk into an armed robbery before informing a next of kin about an unexpected and violent death.
‘How much detail?’ he asked.
‘Bare minimum,’ she said, although Planty knew what he was doing. He would divulge very little to anyone until they had a better idea of what they were dealing with. ‘And get a liaison on the way.’
‘Will do. You’ll be along first thing in the morning?’ he asked.
She nodded.
‘Guv?’ Bryant said as Planty headed back towards his car. He held up two garments from the sports bag. It was a matching vest and skirt. On the rear of the vest were the letters GS.
‘Netball,’ Kim said. ‘It stands for goal shooter. Anything else?’
‘A towel, trainers and a water flask.’
She nodded towards Mitch, indicating Bryant should let the techie have it for further examination.
He handed it over and came to stand beside her.
‘Random killing or robbery gone wrong?’ he asked.
‘Neither,’ she stated, taking another look at the body. ‘No evidence of a fight over her possessions. There was nothing random about this attack. She was killed as she walked home from netball practice, something she most likely does each week. Our killer knew that and was waiting.’
‘And the murder weapon…?’
‘Won’t be here,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘This was well planned and executed. There was no drama or feverish emotion. He did what he came to do, and he’ll have taken the knife away with him.’
‘He?’ Bryant asked about her assumption they were dealing with a man. Right now, it could be either, but it was always the default noun in her mind until the evidence directed her otherwise.
She looked towards the road. A small factory estate with a parcel of wasteland either side.
‘No CCTV anywhere. I’m betting she came from the community centre and was sticking to the main road. Fifty feet further along we’ve got a McDonald’s, a service station and around thirty residential properties stretching all the way to where she lived. This is the only spot where he could have been unnoticed. He was waiting here for her,’ she said, picturing the scene. ‘I’d say he grabbed her by the jacket. She tried to fight, but she would have been reeling from the shock. There’s no sign of sexual assault so it wasn’t about that.’
