The woods were far enough away from the main road leading up towards the northern towns of Formby and Great Altcar to feel like a foreign land. Wide open spaces of farmland, surrounded by thick, dense woodland, with an A road winding its way through it.
Traffic noise was audible, but only if you were trying to hear it. Otherwise, it was peaceful – serene. The odd bird chirping, wind rippling through the trees, the crunch of branches underfoot, as they trampled through to the small clearing ahead. Murphy stopped and stared at the tree that stood in the centre.
‘It’s like an altar,’ DC Kirkham said from beside him. ‘Like it was meant to be here for this purpose.’
Murphy chose not to speak, taking in the scene in front of him.
The browned and blackened burnt wreck of a person took up much of his attention. It hung pitifully from the tree by a chain around its waist, as if it were in the middle of touching its toes before the fire which had destroyed it took hold. The smell of burning flesh still hung in the air, mixed with smoke and petrol. There was a scorched patch of ground a few feet from the tree.
So far, only he and DC Kirkham had been able to handle looking at the body for any period of time. The sight of the charred remains had already cost them a few uniforms, and DC Hale had bolted from the clearing saying he’d check that there were no members of the public in the vicinity, but Murphy had known the truth.
‘Corpse sniffer?’
Murphy turned towards DC Kirkham and nodded. ‘We’d already found out that his phone was switched off in this area, so it would only have been a matter of time.’
‘Is this private land?’
‘Think so, but it’s not exactly off-limits. There’s only a few footpaths, so you can walk through here without even realising. Uniforms have already spoken to the woman.’
DC Kirkham walked away, probably to find the uniforms who had spoken to the female dog-walker who had discovered the body. Another example of the public being involved in the discovery of crimes, without having any intention of doing so. It was enough of a cliche that it put Murphy off ever wanting to own a dog. He could do without finding a dead body whilst out walking the damn thing.
‘Christ . . .’
Murphy turned towards the voice behind him. Dr Houghton was standing a few steps away, taking in the scene, much as Murphy had, eyes locked on the body hanging from the tree.
‘It must be bad,’ Murphy said, taking a step back to allow Dr Houghton to move past him. ‘Never heard you invoke His name at a crime scene before.’
‘There’s something about fire which always gets to me, David.’
‘I know what you mean.’
Dr Houghton stood closer to the body, hands on his hips as he surveyed what was left behind. Forensic techs moved into view, none of the usual joviality and gallows humour on display. Even the scattered uniforms were keeping themselves to themselves, the eerie stillness of the area remaining undisturbed despite the increasing number of people descending on the scene.
DC Kirkham reappeared, moving to Murphy’s side and looking towards the clearing without speaking.
‘How is she doing?’ Murphy said, leading DC Kirkham further away.
‘They’ve called an ambulance for her,’ DC Kirkham said, taking one last look behind him before trudging off in step with Murphy. ‘She’s in shock. It’s about the last thing you’d expect to walk into. They’ve managed to get out of her that she usually walks the dog this way every mid-morning. She called it in straight away and didn’t get too close.’
‘She knew what she was looking at then?’
‘I would say so,’ DC Kirkham replied, shoving his hands in his pockets as they came to a stop a few more feet away. They came to a halt on a narrow path, dense woodland surrounding them, leaving little room for the two of them to stand comfortably. ‘The smell probably didn’t help matters.’
‘She didn’t see anything, I’m guessing?’
‘Not that they’ve managed to get out of her yet. But I can’t imagine anyone hanging around long after doing something like this.’
‘We’re isolated enough that I doubt anyone even saw the fire when it was going,’ Murphy said, peering through the trees. ‘I think the nearest house is over the next field.’ He pointed in what he thought was the right direction, but wasn’t entirely sure.
‘How did the fire go out?’ DC Kirkham said, joining Murphy at the top of the small bank he had ascended to get a better look at the surrounding woodland. ‘Could have burned down a fair few trees, which would have made it easier to notice. Seems like it was all contained in one area.’
‘Just the tree and the surrounding patch of grass . . . good question. I doubt whoever did this brought a hose with them.’
‘Could just be the way it was done. I don’t know. I haven’t exactly come across something like this before.’
Murphy stepped back onto the path, glancing back towards the clearing, before walking away further. ‘About seven or eight years ago I worked something similar. A homeless guy, beaten up and then rolled onto a bonfire. We lifted the lad who did it within a few hours. Just a kid. Teenager, who had a history of trouble. He’d run away from a foster home and met with this guy, smoked his cigarettes and shared a can with him. Then beat the shit out of him, for no reason we could find. It was bommy night, so a few people were watching this bonfire still going at about one in the morning. The homeless guy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. We could never find out if he was still conscious when he was set on fire, but they suspected so. Always hoped the beating was enough, you know.’
‘Doesn’t bear thinking about,’ DC Kirkham said, his voice almost a whisper. ‘The one way I don’t want to go.’
‘I don’t think we get much choice in the matter.’
DC Kirkham was about to reply, but then seemed to change his mind. He brushed a shoe across some loose soil and turned his head towards the trees. ‘Two left then. What, with Tim Johnson in prison. Can’t imagine it would be easy to get to him in there.’
‘Get on the phone to the uniforms watching Simon Jackson. I don’t care what we have to do, just get him out of that building and into safe custody. Hopefully we catch whoever it is trying to get to him.’
‘Yes sir,’ DC Kirkham said, snapping off his gloves.
Murphy watched the forensic techs continue to work the scene. ‘James Morley – what do we know about him?’
DC Kirkham huffed out a breath. ‘Not much really. He’s another one who moved back down south after graduating from university here. We’re struggling to find him, but there’s nothing to suggest he’s in the area.’
‘Keep on it,’ Murphy replied, pulling out his phone and checking the time. ‘This feels like the end game now. Two bodies in two days means whoever we’re looking for has escalated. Started to panic maybe. Means we’re close.’
He waited for DC Kirkham to leave his side before reading the message from Sarah which had buzzed through just before he pulled out his phone.
Hope all is OK. Off to the uni. Will see you at home later. xx
He fired off a quick reply, then pocketed his phone and felt a little buzz of adrenaline.
It really was the end game, he thought. Four days after being told to look into the disappearance of a local prospective MP, he now had three bodies . . . the investigation had moved in ways he could never have predicted.
That was the way of things. Nothing was ever as it seemed.
He thought of the three remaining men, the last surviving founding members of the Abercromby Boys Club, and wondered if they understood what was hurtling towards them. Tim Johnson secure in prison, but the other two less safe.
He considered whether they had always suspected this would happen one day.
There was a part of him which admired the simplistic vision of revenge that was being enacted upon them. An act of vengeance they couldn’t escape.
Murphy shoved his hands in his coat pockets and shook his head at the futility of it all. Wished not for the first time that he could choose who the victims were, so it made his life just a little easier.
In a way, it was no different from Jess having to defend the worst of humankind. He was currently tasked with stopping someone who was only cleaning up a mess that had been allowed to fester over the years.
If he could provide justice to only those who deserved it most, his job would be a simple one. Instead, he put his head down and trudged back to the latest crime scene and kept going.