Corpse Road Page 5

Matt asked, ‘You ever seen anything like it before?’

  ‘No,’ Harry replied. ‘And I’d be happy to never see anything like it ever again.’

  At first, the wounds to the woman’s forehead had looked like nothing but cuts scratched into the skin, with no obvious shape or form. But then, on closer investigation, it had become clear that the marks were indeed letters cut into the flesh and the letters spelled a name.

  ‘Stacy,’ Matt said, saying out loud the name formed of deep gashes in seeping flesh. ‘Like I said earlier. So, do you think that’s her name?’

  ‘I guess,’ Harry said, though he had caught the sound of uncertainty in Matt’s voice.

  ‘But why carve it into her forehead?’ Matt asked. ‘What kind of sick person does that? Does any of this?’

  ‘The kind of sick person it’s our job to find,’ Harry said. ‘And quickly.’

  Chapter Seven

  As Harry dipped back under the cordon tape and away from the crime scene, bright lights flooded the area in front of him, bringing into stark relief the team of volunteers who had all been called out to rescue someone who now lay dead just a short walk away. The grumble of engines accompanied the lights and Harry saw a trio of four-by-fours in convoy pull up behind the rescue vehicle. The darkness of the night was receding now, with dawn working its slow, relentless way towards them, but the night was still clinging on, the darkness now the grubby grey of rainwater racing down a roadside.

  Harry called Jim over and nodded at the new arrivals, all of them now out of the vehicles and busily getting themselves into the white paper suits required for what was to follow.

  ‘Remember what I said, okay? You’re the Scene Guard, so you run this. No one gets past without your say-so. Record their details, entry and exit times, everything.’

  ‘I’ll make sure of it,’ Jim said.

  ‘Oh, and one more thing,’ Harry said, ‘is there a reason why we walked up here when all these buggers just drove?’

  ‘It’s a roundabout route with a vehicle,’ Jim explained. ‘And off-roading at night isn’t that sensible unless you know what you’re doing.’

  ‘You saying you don’t?’

  Jim shook his head. ‘Oh, I do, but like I said, driving up here isn’t as direct as you’d think. Plus, I didn’t want to risk us getting into trouble and then having to call someone away from the crime scene to come and help us.’

  ‘Ah, I see,’ Harry said.

  ‘The walk takes about the same amount of time,’ Jim added. ‘And to be honest, I thought it might be sensible to walk in anyway just in case we spotted anything or whatever. I mean, the route we took here is the quickest way down, so if this turns out to be a murder, then it could be the way whoever did it left the scene.’

  A cough interrupted Harry and Jim’s conversation and Harry looked up to see a man laden down with a heavy bag and a large camera.

  ‘Hi,’ the man said. ‘Am I okay to go in?’

  ‘It’s all yours,’ Harry said, then nodded at the bag the man was carrying. ‘You want to leave that with us?’

  ‘This? Yes, that would good, if you don’t mind.’

  Harry took the bag, which weighed considerably more than he’d expected. ‘What the hell have you got in here?’

  ‘Drone,’ the man said. ‘When the light’s up a bit, I’ll send that up as well, film the site from the sky. Might catch something interesting, might not. Have to see.’

  Harry had nothing to say to that so stood back and let the photographer carry on with his duties, Jim having made a note of his attending the scene.

  Looking back to the newly arrived vehicles Harry spotted two faces he recognised, the divisional surgeon, Margaret Shaw, and her daughter, Rebecca Sowerby, the pathologist.

  Having caught their eye, Harry sent a lacklustre wave in their direction.

  ‘I’ll go and see how the rescue team are doing,’ Matt said, as the two women made their way over towards him and Harry. ‘And I’ll have a word with Adam, make sure he doesn’t go till you’ve spoken to him.’

  ‘You mean you’re running away,’ Harry said.

  ‘Yes, absolutely,’ Matt said, and was gone.

  ‘Chief Inspector!’

  The divisional surgeon’s voice was the kind any army sergeant would be proud of, Harry thought, as the woman approached. It was clear, loud, and demanded attention. It was the kind of voice which could, he was sure, command people to do pretty much whatever it wanted.

  ‘Morning,’ Harry replied, as Margaret came to stand in front of him. ‘Sorry to have to drag you out so early on a Saturday morning.’

  ‘What have we got?’ Margaret asked, ignoring Harry’s concern, and striding over to the cordon tape.

  ‘Female, mid-thirties at a guess, stab wound to the neck,’ Harry said. ‘Shouldn’t think the photographer will be all that much longer.’

  As if in answer to Harry’s words, the photographer dipped under the tape and walked over to collect his bag.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, taking it from Harry. ‘Don’t think the drone’s going to be much use, to be honest. It’s too dark to pick anything out that I won’t have done from the shots I’ve just taken.’

  ‘So that’s you then, is it?’

  ‘Yes. And I’ll get these to you as soon as I get back and have everything loaded up and checked.’

  ‘Good,’ Harry said.

  The photographer made to leave, but paused. ‘Who does something like that, do you think? I mean, why? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t,’ Harry said. ‘Not to us, anyway. But to whoever did it, then it’s probably all very easy to justify. Which is as scary as it sounds, because the irrational act has become rational to them.’

  Shaking his head, the photographer walked off, only to be replaced by Margaret Shaw, who was under the tape and to the body in a few strides. A few minutes later she was back with Harry and Rebecca.

  ‘Sorry you had to see that,’ Harry said.

  ‘All part of the job,’ replied Margaret. ‘Poor lass. What a mess.’

  ‘So, you’re happy to confirm death?’

  ‘My boy, not even our good Lord and Saviour could bring her back.’ She turned her attention from Harry to Rebecca. ‘You sure you’re going to be okay with this one? I mean, you know—’

  ‘Yes, I’ll be fine,’ Rebecca said, her voice snapping the divisional surgeon’s voice in two. ‘I can handle it. Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I’ll get on with my job.’

  Harry watched Rebecca give a wave to the rest of her team, and then they were off, a parade of white phantoms marching towards a grizzly puzzle they were now all tasked with trying to solve.

  ‘What was that about?’ Harry asked.

  ‘You mean you don’t know?’

  ‘Know what?’

  Margaret looked serious for a moment and Harry could see that she was wrestling with something, her brow furrowed deep. Then she grabbed hold of his arm and led him away just enough to give them some privacy.

  ‘She was eighteen when it happened,’ Margaret said. ‘And it’s why she decided to become a pathologist in the first place. Changed her degree to do it, moved universities. It’s why she’s so on edge all the time. It’s not personal, she’s just, well, focused, shall we say.’

  Harry had no idea what the surgeon was getting at. ‘When what happened?’

  ‘She was walking home from a club with a friend,’ Margret explained, her voice surprisingly soft and quiet. ‘They were attacked. Rebecca retaliated but was punched and kicked unconscious. When she came to, her friend was gone. She blamed herself for not being able to do enough.’

  A sliver of ice slipped down Harry’s spine as he guessed exactly where the rest of this story was leading. The crime scene was busy now, a tent being erected over the body, evidence being collected.

  ‘Her friend was found two days later,’ Margaret said. ‘She’d been raped then strangled to death.’

  ‘Jesus Christ . . .’

&nb
sp; ‘Indeed,’ Margaret said. ‘He was caught soon after. Rebecca ID’d him and the forensics evidence ensured that he went away for a very long time.’

  Harry scanned the crime scene, watching Rebecca and the rest of the CSI team go about their business.

  ‘Cases like this are the worst,’ Margaret continued. ‘Stir up old memories. And I’m just a concerned mother, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, thanks for telling me,’ Harry said.

  ‘Perhaps best you don’t tell her that I did,’ Margaret whispered. ‘But I thought it sensible that you know, particularly considering the circumstances of what’s happened here.’

  ‘No, right, yes, thanks,’ Harry said, stumbling over his words.

  Without another word said, Margaret turned and headed off back to the vehicles.

  ‘That looked serious.’

  It was Jim and Harry turned to face him.

  ‘Most conversations are at a crime scene.’

  Jim folded his arms, his eyes now on the CSI team. ‘What exactly is it that they’re looking for?’ he asked. ‘I mean, I know they’re looking for evidence, I’m not a complete idiot, but what specifically? I’m not making any sense, am I?’

  ‘You are,’ Harry said, ‘because you’re asking questions, and that’s the only way any of us can learn.’

  ‘That’s a relief.’

  ‘Basically,’ Harry explained, ‘they’re looking for two things, one being anything missing that we’d expect to find.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘A phone, for example,’ Harry said. ‘We’d expect to find that here, wouldn’t we? So if it isn’t here, then we start asking questions, like where is it, why isn’t it here, did she leave it somewhere, did someone take it and if so who and why? That kind of thing. You see, something missing automatically forces us down lines of enquiry.’

  ‘Makes sense,’ Jim said. ‘What’s the other thing?’

  ‘Basically, the opposite of that,’ Harry said. ‘Anything that doesn’t belong. That could be anything from something that clearly doesn’t belong to or has nothing immediately obvious to do with the victim, to blood or body fluids, anything with possible DNA traces on it, like cigarettes or whatever, anything that could have fingerprints on it, physical marks like footprints and tyre prints.’

  Jim was quiet for a moment. ‘So we’re looking for things that are there which shouldn’t be, and things which should be, but aren’t.’

  ‘Exactly that. Couldn’t have said it better myself. You ever considered moving up from PCSO?’

  Jim shook his head. ‘I’m good with what I’m doing at the moment,’ he said. ‘Anyway, can’t see why I’d be needed. With everything you’ve just said going on, makes you wonder how anyone gets away with anything really, doesn’t it?’

  ‘That it does,’ Harry replied. ‘Anyway, I need to go and have a chat with this Adam bloke.’

  ‘Brighty?’ Jim said, then pointed at a man chatting with Matt. ‘You can’t miss him, what with hair as curly as his. He says it isn’t permed. No one believes him.’

  Harry spotted who Jim was talking about. His hair was definitely on the curly side, he could see that from where they were standing, but not in an 80s glam metal kind of way, which was what Jim’s short description had painted in his mind. Instead, it was cut short and was so black that Harry was reminded of the hair his Action Man toys had back when he was a kid.

  ‘See you in a bit then,’ Harry said, then added, ‘And when that lot is done, you can head off back to that dog of yours before it chews its way through your seats out of boredom. I’ll grab a lift with Dinsdale.’

  Chapter Eight

  To Harry’s mind, Adam Bright was every bit the postcard image of what he imagined most people thought of when it came to someone who rescued people from the wilds—rugged, worn, and fit. In many ways, he was the very opposite of Matt, Harry thought. Adam was tall, with the build of someone who could clearly walk mountains for days and never quit. He wasn’t skinny, like a fell runner, but built with a size that told the story of a man who was strong and lean. He was dressed, as were the others in the rescue team, in all the appropriate outdoor gear. As Harry approached him, a smile reached across his weathered face like a deep crack in a worn cliff. He was wearing a black beanie hat and Harry could see the ends of a curly fringe sprouting from beneath it.

  ‘Hi,’ Harry said, reaching his hand out to the man. ‘I’m DCI Grimm.’

  Adam took Harry’s hand and shook it warmly. ‘Sorry about this,’ he said. ‘Early morning call out isn’t what anyone wants, is it?’

  ‘Hardly your fault,’ Harry said. ‘Can you spare a few minutes? Just want to go through what you found.’

  ‘Yeah, no problem,’ Adam replied, and Harry led them away from the group to get a bit more privacy.

  ‘Firstly,’ Harry said, ‘I just need to take your details down. Name, age, address, telephone number, if that’s okay.’

  ‘Yeah, no worries,’ Adam said, then gave Harry the details he’d asked for.

  ‘Thirty,’ Harry said, shaking his head. ‘I remember that like it was a long time ago.’

  ‘You’re not exactly old,’ Adam said.

  ‘On the outside, no,’ Harry agreed, ‘but inside? It’s another story, let me tell you.’

  Harry paused for a second or two, glanced once again over to the crime scene, then was back to Adam. ‘I need to ask how you’re doing, with all this?’ he said. ‘I ask because this isn’t the kind of thing anyone’s really prepared for. I am, because I’ve seen plenty of awful things in my time on the force, but this is probably a bit different from what you usually get sent out for.’

  ‘I’ve seen dead bodies before,’ Adam replied.

  ‘We both know that this is no normal dead body,’ Harry said. ‘There’s a huge difference between finding someone dead of exposure to someone dead through violence enacted upon them by someone else.’

  ‘I’m okay, though,’ Adam said. ‘Really, I am. But thanks for asking. I appreciate that.’

  Accepting what Adam had said, Harry said, ‘DS Dinsdale tells me you’re the one who called it in.’

  ‘Yes and no,’ Adam said, correcting Harry. ‘My brother, Gary, saw the lights on the hill so I went to check.’

  ‘Ah, yes, ’ Harry said. ‘And that was enough to have you calling in the rescue team?’

  ‘It was enough for me to go out and check, seeing as I live the closest. Out of the rest of the team, I mean. And it’s just a short walk really, and an even shorter run.’

  Harry had no doubt that Adam would have flown up the path he’d just walked himself with Jim.

  ‘We, all of us, every member of the team I mean, have a grab bag at the door, you know, another in the car. Emergency kit. We’re all a bit kit obsessed, really. And I had enough with me to deal with an emergency while waiting for the others to turn up. Can’t say I was expecting this, though.’

  Harry pondered on how Adam had described the walk he had just done himself to the crime scene as a short run. It wasn’t far, for sure, probably just under three kilometres, but running it, in rescue kit, carrying a bag of emergency equipment was another thing entirely. Which also reminded Harry he needed to go for a run himself later on, if only to stop Jen from badgering him about it and quizzing him on his fitness goals.

  ‘And you were at home?’

  Adam shook his head. ‘On my way back from work.’

  ‘Pulling a late one?’

  ‘All part of the job,’ Adam said.

  ‘How did your brother describe the lights, then?’ Harry asked, dragging his mind back into the now. ‘What was it about them that caught his attention?’

  ‘He said it looked like someone was signalling,’ Adam said.

  ‘You mean like morse code?’

  ‘Well, if it was, Gary wouldn’t have known,’ Adam said, laughing. ‘No, he just said that there was a flashing light up on the hills and that it didn’t look quite right, all sort of erratic, so I thought it was wo
rth heading out to check just in case. Which is what I did.’

  ‘I’d like to talk to your brother,’ Harry said.

  ‘He’ll be at home,’ said Adam.

  ‘He lives with you?’

  ‘For the moment, yes,’ Adam said. ‘He’s saving up having just finished university and applying for jobs.’

  ‘So he’s what, twenty-one, twenty-two?’

  ‘Twenty-two,’ Adam said. ‘Web design is his thing. Definitely not mine, though.’

  ‘And what about yourself?’

  ‘Me? Outdoor education,’ Adam said. ‘I have to work outside or I’d go mad. I’m deputy head at Marrick Priory, just down the valley, the other side of Reeth. Lovely little place.’

  Harry wasn’t at all surprised and could easily see how the role suited Adam. He had a naturally confident air to him and Harry had no doubt that he was well-liked by the kids he threw off cliffs and down rivers.

  ‘So you were there yesterday evening?’

  Adam shrugged a ‘Yes’, then said, ‘We were doing what we call a Night Owl exercise. Send the kids out when it’s starting to get dark and have them do an easy orienteering course. The staff patrol it to make sure they don’t get lost. It’s a lot of fun and makes sure they’re knackered enough to actually go to sleep.’

  ‘Sounds fun,’ Harry said.

  ‘It is. I love my job. I’m very lucky. I basically spent the whole evening out on the hills, just observing the other staff, making sure they’re all on it, if you know what I mean. It’s best to step back, you know? Give them space, observe from afar. Otherwise, they’re always looking over their shoulder, and that’s not good.’

  Harry asked, ‘When’s the best time to catch Gary, then? And can I have his number?’

  ‘Sure,’ Adam said, pulling out his phone and flicking through his contacts. ‘And any time is fine at the moment. Like I said, he’s applying for jobs, but it’s not easy. And he’s doing a bit of work from home when he can get it. Freelance stuff. To be honest, I’ve not a clue about any of it. His room looks like something you see in the movies, all screens and keyboards and little red lights going on and off.’