The warm glow of the sun belied the dark cloud of grief which was soon to wash over 101 Heathcote Road. It was a job that every police officer hated. The only thing worse than seeing a dead, decaying, rotting body was having to tell their nearest and dearest what had happened to them. No matter how many times you had to do it throughout your career, it got no easier. To have to start with a lie; the pleasantries, the how-are-yous, the all-impending knowledge of what was to come, what was inevitable, eating away at every part of you.
It was why so many officers chose to get straight down to business. Many of them got straight to the point and told them why they were there as soon as the door was open. Others tended to beat around the bush and get through four or five cups of tea and twice as many fingernails before finally breaking the bad news.
Perhaps it was fortunate that Darren Parker had picked up on a facial expression, an atmosphere, when he opened the door that afternoon. The initial smile was eradicated by his sinking features. Wendy could swear that she had seen him age by ten years right in front of her.
‘Mr Parker, we've come to speak to you and your wife about Danielle. Can we come in?’
‘She's … she's dead, isn't she?’
‘Can we come in, Mr Parker?’ Wendy replied. ‘I’d much rather we spoke inside.’
Miriam Levy was sat, perched on the edge of an armchair, a scrunch of tissues clenched to her chin as she rocked her elbows on her knees. Her eyes told of pain and sorrow, but her voice said nothing.
‘I’ll get straight to the point,’ DCI Culverhouse started, surprising no-one. ‘We've found a… well, a body, of sorts, in the woods between Upper Berrydale and Middlebrook. We have reason to believe it might be Danielle.’
The last glowing embers of hope died visibly on the faces of Darren Parker and Miriam Levy, the main fire already all but extinguished.
‘Will we… will we need to identify her?’ Danielle’s step-father asked.
‘That probably isn't a good idea, Mr Parker. We'd like to carry out a DNA match instead. We don't have Danielle's DNA on file, so we'll need to take an item of unwashed clothing. Either that or a hairbrush used exclusively by her. Might you have anything?’
‘Well, yes, both. Do we need to get it now?’ Miriam replied.
‘In your own time. We understand how distressing this must be,’ Wendy replied.
Darren Parker instead kept his eyes firmly fixed on Culverhouse.
‘I’m no fool, Inspector. I know how these things work. The reason we can't identify her is because she's unidentifiable, isn't it?’ Culverhouse said nothing, but diverted his eyes towards the cream carpet. ‘So what makes you think it might be her in the first place? I mean, if you can’t identify her…’
Wendy spoke on behalf of them both. ‘Some of her belongings were found close by, Mr Parker. That doesn't immediately mean the body is Danielle's, but the location of both the body and her belongings is eight-and-a-half miles away from where she was last seen, so it does make it a lot more likely that there’s a match.’
‘Right. I see. Well, I'd better go and get some bits for you, then.’
It occurred to Wendy that Darren Parker was one of many different types of grievers. He was the rock. The one who tried to appear as the calm organiser, the steady force, but in private would break down worse than anyone else. Miriam Levy, on the other hand, was quite the opposite, being visibly torn from the inside out in front of their very eyes.
A few minutes later, Darren Parker re-entered the living room with two large sandwich bags, one dwarfing the hairbrush within it, the other almost at bursting point with the woollen jumper which it held. He handed them to Wendy.
‘I picked them both up with the bags. So there weren't any more fingerprints or mixed DNA or whatever on them, you know.’
‘Thanks. That's very helpful.’
’So. When will we know? We can’t just sit here not knowing whether she’s dead or not.’
‘It shouldn't be long, Mr Parker. I know every minute can feel like an hour, but we'll do our best to ensure your mind can be at rest as soon as possible.’
‘Thank you. I just… I just don't know what I would do if it was Danielle.’