15

Day 39

Friday March 23

Nigel had spent the intervening two weeks packing up Thornhill Abbey and finding somewhere to live. It was a small flat, not as nice as Chloe’s, and nowhere near perfect, but it would do. It was just him, and always would be.

Chloe hadn’t replied to any of the numerous texts he’d sent her and the number he had went straight to voice mail. She’d left a hole inside him, but he knew deep down he’d done the right thing. He rang the lawyer and told him to arrange the transfer of the money and ownership of the house ASAP.

The Rent-a-bride site had gone. Not that he’d looked it up to find someone else, he was just curious as to whether Chloe’s profile had still been there. He’d then flicked through the photos on his phone of her, but couldn’t find it in himself to delete them. Was this what a broken heart felt like? A stabbing, aching, longing that nothing could satisfy?

Not even work held its usual appeal. He missed Chloe more than he’d expected. Without her he’d struggled not to fall back into his old ways, but he wasn’t about to admit that to anyone. He knew he’d done the right thing. His prayer life had returned to normal. His soul was lighter than it had been. And his heart, while it sang with the joy of the Lord, mourned and grieved the loss it had suffered. Easter would never be the same again.

Nigel leaned back in his chair, twisting his pen over his fingers.

Toby stuck his head around the door. “We got a call. Come on. I’ll drive.”

Ten minutes later, carrying his silver case and dressed in a white forensic suit, Nigel walked down the field towards the body. The police officer with them filled them in as they walked. Nigel’s heart stopped as he caught sight of the young woman lying face down in the mud. Her long brown hair, slender legs, torn blood stained clothing. For a moment he thought it was Chloe.

He dropped to his knees and gently pushed back the hair. Relief filled him. It wasn’t her. Then guilt flooded him. She would be someone else’s daughter, wife, girlfriend, sister.

“Nigel, are you OK?”

He glanced up at Toby. “I thought…She looked like Chloe from behind, but she isn’t.”

“Ah. How is Chloe? The wedding is this weekend isn’t it?”

“No. We, that is, I called it off. I don’t need the leave after all. In fact I’m happy to take your on-call over the Easter weekend so you can spend it with Nicky and the kids.”

“Are you sure?” Toby knelt and opened his case. “Nicky has this huge egg hunt planned. Chocolate, rabbits and so on. The kids love it.”

“Sounds totally different to my Easter, which is as far from rabbits and chocolate as you can get—although the four day bank holiday is nice. Did you know that Good Friday isn’t a holiday in the US?”

“Really?”

Nigel handed him the empty sample vial. “Yeah.”

“So what are you going to do instead of getting married?”

He grinned. “Working. Other than that, church on Good Friday and twice on Easter Day. There’s a church walk and lunch on Good Friday I might go to. With the pager, of course.”

“Are you still going to Scotland tomorrow?”

“Yeah. It’s booked and paid for so may as well. I’m taking the car and coming back on Tuesday, so I’ll be in Wednesday as usual.” He turned his attention to the body. “That’s interesting. See how the lividity is different here? It’s almost as if she were moved after she died.”

Back at the lab, Nigel gave his full attention to the post mortem. They referred to the dead as the silent witness and always treated them with respect, doing their best to provide answers for the grieving families.

Settling behind his desk, he began to type up his notes. His phone lit up and he ignored it. Whoever was calling was persistent. The same number had been trying on and off all week, but he had no intentions of answering. He buried the phone under a pile of files. The only person he wanted to talk to was Chloe, but he’d lost that right the moment he’d called off the wedding.

He couldn’t blame her for leaving without saying goodbye. But arranged marriages were a thing of the past. Brides used to be bought and sold like a piece of jewelry—hence the dowry—for business purposes, but not anymore.

Toby stuck his head around the door. “You have a call in my office. Urgent, apparently.”

“Take a message, please. I need to finish this before I leave.”

“Do I look like your secretary?” Toby complained half-heartedly.

Nigel chuckled. “And a very pretty one too. However I feel inclined to point out that you’re not my type.”

Toby laughed and vanished. Only to reappear a minute or so later. He dropped into the chair on the other side of the desk. “You know that will still be there on Wednesday, right?”

“I know, but her family and the police need the answers now, not in five days’ time. The trail might be cold by then.” He frowned.

“What is it?”

Nigel rummaged through the papers. His phone rang again.

“Maybe you should answer that?”

“Not right now.” He shoved his phone into the desk drawer and closed it. “It says here our Jane Doe was found on farmland, where we were.”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Well she wasn’t killed there. Look at this. Something I found under her fingernails. It’s wood.”

“Show me.”

He handed his boss the photos. “Highly polished wooden floor boards most likely which would tie in with the other murder last week.”

“You think they’re connected?”

“I want to take another look at that head wound, and compare it.”

“I’ll do it. It’s almost five. You should get home and pack. You can do the follow-up when you get back.”

Nigel’s phone rang again and he rolled his eyes. “I know, but I want to do this. Besides I’m already packed. And if we both do it, then you’ll be home before midnight and neither of us will turn into a pumpkin.”

Toby chuckled. “If I’m home after midnight that will be the least of my worries.”

“Nicky got you on a tight leash?”

“Wouldn’t say that, but there’s a lot of bunny and egg prep I promised to help her with before next weekend.”