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Press officer Connie Seabourne was sat in the CID office on his arrival. Her big, blue round eyes saw him before he saw her, and making a beeline for him she briskly followed him into his office.
‘I was on a course this morning upstairs when I got the call. I am told the press is onto it. What can we tell them?’
Dylan sat down behind his desk and hastily she sat down opposite him – pink pen poised above a blank page in her notepad.
‘Nothing yet,’ Dylan gave her a brief smile.
Connie puckered her lips. ‘Nothing?’ she asked.
Dylan shook his head. ‘I’m just about to speak to the dead girl’s mum and stepdad. I don’t want any details of her, or anything that is likely to identify her to be given to the media until we have confirmation that all her family members have been notified.’
Connie shrugged her cashmere sweater-clad shoulders. ‘No worries,’ she said. I’ll get back to the office. You just let me know what and when you want me to do the press release.’
‘It might be after five.’
‘I’m doing a double shift. There’s no one to cover holiday’s due to the cuts.’ Connie raised her perfectly groomed eyebrows that framed her impeccable eye make-up and ran her sparkly painted nails through her long blonde hair. She stood. ‘Good job I love my job!’ she said.
‘Trouble is that’s what they rely on, people loving their jobs. It shouldn’t be the case.’
‘The world will be run with volunteers in the future my mum says. But, what happens when the volunteers that we have put so much cost and effort to train up decide to move on?’
The skirt on her floral dress swished to and fro as she left Dylan’s office. Dylan shook his head. ‘God knows,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘No one will have thought about that.’
Detective Constables Donna Frost and Michelle Robinson weren’t hard to find. Dylan spoke briefly with them outside the room where they had been talking to Elliot Black. It was the first time Dylan had seen him, and for now it was through a window in the door. He would introduce himself shortly, but not just now. Donna told Dylan that Elliot had maintained his original account of what had happened that morning.
‘Mr Black’s partner Sandra is here,’ Dylan told the officers in a hushed tone. ‘If you give me a couple of minutes to speak to her first, then we’ll all sit down together. That way they’ll be able to support each other. I’ll get someone to message you with our location in the building once I know where Mrs Heinz is being looked after.’
In a private office on the first floor of the building he met up with DC Jaene Booth and Patti’s mum. Sandra Heinz held a mug in both hands, at arm’s length in her lap. She stared right through the officer sat in front of her who attempted to coax her to take a sip of the warm drink. Patti’s mum was shaking, her eyes red rimmed and her pale face tear-stained. She didn’t speak, she didn’t blink. Dylan walked into the room and Sandra turned to him, her puffy eyes followed him when he sat down and introduced himself to her. Putting his hands together as if in prayer Dylan leaned forward. ‘Your partner Elliot is here at the station and we will be joining him in a few minutes. ‘Sandra there is no easy way of breaking this news to you, and I need to tell you what we know so far. I promise you I won’t keep anything from you and anything you don’t understand or want to know please ask me or Jaene. It is Jaene’s job, as part of our team to give you constant support as your family liaison officer and I’m sure she has already explained that to you.’
Sandra Heinz held Dylan’s gaze. After a moment or two she swallowed hard. Her grip on the cup became tighter. So much so that Dylan could see her knuckles turn white. Dylan went on. ‘Earlier this afternoon Elliot discovered Patti’s body at the top of the steps, on the landing of your home.’
Sandra gasped. Dylan continued. ‘He immediately telephoned the emergency services, the police and ambulance responded. Sadly there was nothing the paramedics could do. She was dead.’
The cry emanating from Sandra’s lips was like an injured animal’s. After a few minutes she managed to compose herself, her voice quivered. ‘How did she...?
‘We think from an injury to her head but, a post-mortem will ascertain if that is the case.’
‘She fell?’ Sandra interrupted Dylan – her expression one of confusion. ‘Where did she fall?’
‘Please let me finish.’ Dylan lowered his eyes, he paused for an instant. When he continued he purposefully spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. ‘She has an injury to her head which is unexplained at this moment in time. Patti was naked when she was found Sandra, except for her bra which appears to have been used to strangle her. We also believe she was raped.’
‘Christ almighty!’ Sandra’s body jerked forward. ‘Not an accident?’ With presence of mind Jaene swiftly took the cup from Sandra’s flailing hand. ‘No!’ she screamed. She fell backwards in the chair with a thud. ‘No! No! No! I can’t...’ she sobbed, covering her eyes with clawed, ridged fingers.
Just then the door was opened by Donna, and in walked Elliot Black. Sandra looked up at the officers greeting each other, jumped up and threw herself at him, clinging to his shoulders to keep her upright, then to his waist as her crying subsided. Looking physically shaken Elliot helped her back to her seat. He held her hand as he sat down beside her. Dylan gave them a moment before introducing himself to Elliot. Sandra watched the unspoken exchange of words in their eyes and her eyes finally rested on Elliot Black’s face. As she did so her eyebrows knitted together and she looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. ‘Why are you dressed in that?’ she asked him. ‘Why is he dressed like that?’ she asked Dylan. She turned her head back to Mr Black. ‘Are you under arrest?’ Her voice rose. ‘Do they think you...?’ Her eyes widened and she leant as far away from her partner as the chair would allow. ‘Oh my god! Tell me no?’ she said to Jaene.
Dylan spoke first. ‘The reason that Elliot is dressed in one of our paper suits is that we had to take possession of his clothing because he was the one who found Patti, and there was blood on them. Nothing more.’
Sandra reached out for Elliot’s hand and begged his forgiveness, crying uncontrollably when he took her in his arms.
‘Can we get some more drinks Jaene and arrange for a doctor?’ Dylan said, softly.
Jaene moved swiftly and quietly towards the door. As she did so she nodded at Dylan, her face full of concern.
Sandra’s sobs were intermittent and Elliot comforted her. ‘Where’s Patti now? Can I see her? I want to see her. Is she still at home?’
‘She’s in a private ambulance en route to St Martin’s Hospital. And, of course you will be able to see her. I need you to understand that there will have to be a post-mortem examination carried out by a Home Office pathologist though.’
Sandra looked puzzled. ‘Why?’
‘To find out exactly how she died.’
‘I thought you said she was murdered, strangled, raped?’ She shook her head. ‘When I find out who did this to her I’ll...’ Sandra’s eyes were searing. ‘Why does she, have to have a post-mortem? I don’t want her to have a post-mortem. I don’t want anyone touching her ever again. Don’t you think she’s suffered enough,’ she cried.
‘I’m sorry Sandra. I know you’re upset but that isn’t your decision. I’m sure you want us to secure as much evidence as we can to catch Patti’s killer, don’t you?’
‘Will you be there?’
‘At the post-mortem?’ Dylan nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Thank you,’ she said softly before her face crumpled and fresh tears fell unchecked upon her cheeks.
Dylan could almost physically feel her pain. ‘We have to prove exactly how Patti died Sandra, and we can only do that with the help of a Home Office pathologist. Although we believe she was sexually assaulted we need to find out beyond doubt that she was, and if so secure the evidence so that when we catch the person or persons who did this to her, we can put them away. At this stage of the enquiry we also need to understand what caused her injuries, and what killed her if that’s possible. The post-mortem will hopefully be able to help us.’ Dylan was aware he was repeating himself but he would do that as many times as necessary to ensure Sandra understood what was happening and why.
‘I just want to hold her... I’m her mother. I should have protected her... I’ve let her down.’
‘No, you haven’t let her down. She has been murdered, in her home, a place where she should have been safe. As yet we don’t know who is responsible. Now, I need you both to try and think about any recent events, boyfriends, major upsets that may have occurred in her life, anything that you think may help us find her killer.’
Sandra scoffed. ‘She’s fourteen. She didn’t have boyfriends. All her spare time was spent at the gym. She ate, drank and slept gymnastics. Round the house, where other kids slob about in jeans, she wore her a leotard. She was forever stretching, exercising or dancing. Don’t you understand she lived for gymnastics? Her coach told us she’d represent her country one day. Tell him Elliot,’ she said turning to look at her partner.
Elliot Black had been quiet. He nodded. His eyes briefly closing. He sighed, heavily, looked down at his knotted hands. ‘She’s right, she loved gymnastics. It’s all she ever wanted to do.’
‘We will be speaking to anyone and everyone who knows or has had contact with Patti. We’ll be digging deep. Starting from today, we will work backwards mapping out her daily routine. For instance, what time did she normally return home from school? And, would she normally be home at any point during the school day?’
Elliot and Sandra looked at each other and then back at Dylan. ‘No,’ they replied in unison.
Sandra appeared thoughtful. ‘Hold on. It’s Tuesday. Maybe she forgot her swimming stuff. There’s a class after school that her coach encourages her to attend.’ She turned to Elliot. A frown appeared on her brow. ‘How come you were at home?’
‘I’ve already explained to the police. I nipped home for my phone charger.’
‘Where do you work?’ said Dylan.
‘Spar shop, Church Street, I’m deputy manager.’ Elliot straightened his back and instantly his chest rose. ‘Takes me literally five minutes on my bike.’
‘Would Patti normally pass the shop to get to school?’ Dylan held Elliot’s gaze. ‘I want you to know that we have to confirm everything you say.’
‘Yes,’ said Elliot.
Sandra’s hooded eyelids instantly rose to show bloodshot eyes. Her mouth opened and she turned to her husband.
‘It’s routine,’ Dylan said, as he slowly turned to face her.
Elliot looked down. Reached for her limp hand and lifted it into his. He squeezed it tight. ‘It’s okay. Everyone is a suspect until proven otherwise. I’ve heard them say that on the telly.’
Dylan leant in towards the pair. ‘What I really need from you, as soon as you feel able, is a list of Patti’s friends, acquaintances, anyone you know who knew Patti.’ There was a spark of life in Patti’s mother’s flat, dead eyes. Dylan fixed upon the flicker and spoke softly to her. ‘Sandra, who’s your daughter’s best friend, the person she might confide in? You see shortly our experts will be examining her laptop, her mobile phone. They’ll be looking for contacts, any contacts, all contacts but, that takes time. I promise you we will be working around the clock to find Patti’s killer but what you can give us, in the meantime to quicken up that process, would be like gold dust to me right now.’ The light Dylan had seen in Sandra’s eyes faded and two black granite holes stared right past him to the blank wall beyond. ‘Patti maybe only fourteen,’ he tried again to cut through the pain, ‘but she was an attractive girl and she will no doubt have had her admirers. Who were the regular callers at your home?’ Dylan continued, unperturbed by the blank, jaded face. ‘I know I’m asking a lot of you and truly I don’t expect immediate answers but maybe Jaene, here, could help?’
Sandra’s head started to shake in short jerky, side-to-side movements. ‘My daughter didn’t have a boyfriend.’ Her reply cut him short, and sharp. She glared at Dylan. ‘She didn’t have time, did she?’ she spoke to Elliot.
‘She was beautiful, the image of her mother.’ Elliot looked down at his wife’s hand and stroked it gently with his thumb.
Dylan shifted in his seat and glanced at Jaene, who had returned with fresh drinks, then back to Patti’s mother.
‘You will need to inform family about Patti’s death. Who do you need to tell?’ Blank faces looked back at him. ‘If there is anything we can do to help you with that, let Jaene know.’
There was silence.
‘One of the reasons I ask is that is that I haven’t revealed any details yet to the press, but at some stage I will have to and you might want to identify somewhere, where you can seek some solitude. We have a lot of specialised people at our disposal but in my experience the ability of the media, to spread the word and ask for help from the general pubic, is one I am eternally grateful for. Do you have a photograph of Patti that we can use? Again experience tells me that if we give the media a picture, they won’t go seeking another elsewhere. You’re going to see a picture of Patti on the television and on the front page of every newspaper in the next few days and beyond, so it makes sense to provide a picture you are fond of, rather than letting them get hold of one by other means – such as social media.’
Uninvited tears once again sprung into Sandra’s eyes and she dabbed them with a clean tissue Jaene handed to her. ‘She’s just had one taken with her medals around her neck at the regional championships. She looks happy, and proud.’
‘Good, thank-you,’ Dylan’s eyes found Jaene’s and nodded. ‘We’ll arrange to take you to see Patti.’ Sandra’s lips parted and she took an audible intake of air.
‘When will the examination take place?’ said Elliot.
‘I’m hoping later today. I’m awaiting a call from the Coroner’s Officer to confirm that the Home Office pathologist is available and what time he or she will be attending. But, remember any questions it’s Jaene’s role in our dedicated team to keep you updated at all times – that’s why she’s here, for you.’
‘Will I be able to see Patti before I go to bed tonight, please?’ said Sandra her eyes pleading.
‘I’ll make sure so,’ said Dylan. ‘I know just how important it is for you both to see her. I appreciate it’s a big ask for you to be patient but we want the best opportunity to secure any evidence her body may be able to give us to help us catch her killer. Now,’ he said as he rose out of his chair, ‘I need to chase people to secure a time for the post-mortem. He looked down at three sets of expectant eyes. ‘Jaene will stay with you. Please try to focus on the questions she will be asking you about your family history, details of Patti’s friends and her routine. Anything you can tell us will be really helpful.’
Sandra looked at Jaene as she moved to sit beside her and Jaene gave her hand a reassuring pat.
‘Can you think of anywhere you could stay this evening?’ Dylan said. Sandra looked up at him and then quickly back at Jaene, her eyes filled with panic.
Jaene squeezed her hand tightly. ‘Your house, it’s being examined by our experts. Nothing for you to worry about but you don’t need to be upset by it. Better you’re out of the way that’s all.’
‘Your Joan’s?’ said Elliot. ‘She’s got a spare room.’
Sandra’s hand flew to her open mouth. ‘She’s going to be heartbroken. I need to inform work – they’ll have to get cover for me tomorrow.’
Dylan put a hand on Sandra’s shoulder. ‘Remember Jaene is here to help you with those kind of jobs, just ask her. One more question,’ Dylan said as he reached the door. ‘I know Patti has had a lot of publicity recently. Do you know if your address was printed in the media?’
‘I think the area where we live might have been mentioned but not the name of the house, as far as I’m aware,’ said Elliot.
‘No, it’s just a matter of trying to think where someone might have got your address.’
***
The incident room was in the process of being set up and the relevant staffing sourced. Dylan couldn’t quite believe his luck when he was given the news that the Home Office pathologist would be available within the hour. ‘Apparently she’s in the area for a meeting which has just concluded far earlier than expected,’ said Sergeant Cracker Craze, a grin as always on his friendly face. He extended his hand and rattled a tin.
‘What we raising funds for this time?’ said Dylan digging deep in his pockets.
‘A shelter for the homeless,’ he said, unapologetically. ‘Didn’t David Funk tell you?’
Within the hour Dylan was stood in a car park. Vicky Hardacre at his side. She kicked off her heels and threw them on the back seat, replacing them with something more suitable for a visit to the mortuary. She locked her car door.
‘We’ll have to stop meeting like this,’ she said with a cock of her eyebrow as they walked together towards the austere building. Her blonde, shoulder-length hair had been recently cut short and bleached, it made her look older than her thirty years and harsher, Dylan thought. Today her bonny face was full of freckles from the sun and her blue eyes were somehow a mixture of the usual mischief, and sadness.
Dylan shook his head. ‘You’re insufferable. Jaene needs notifying after the post-mortem to update parents, and we need to arrange a visit for them.’ Arriving at the entrance Dylan stepped forward and opened the door to allow her to go before him. ‘Get in.’
Vicky shivered.
‘You cold?’ Dylan asked as he followed her down the windowless corridor. Their footsteps echoed and the noise seemed to bounce off the grey, shiny, newly painted walls.
‘No, this place... It gives me the friggin’ heebie-jeebies.’
‘Just remember, luckily for us we get to walk out,’ said Dylan.
‘True,’ she said, pushing open the door to the examination rooms. She took a deep breath.
‘Post-mortem is about to commence,’ said the lady who greeted them, clipboard in hand. She wore half moon glasses and a no-nonsense expression. The pathologist on the other hand was Mary Morris. A smiley, slim lady in her forties with short dark hair. The police officers acknowledged her. Her assistant was tying her plastic apron. Suited and booted, the face-mask hanging around their necks and plastic gloves in their hands, the police officers were seated at the door, ready to go into the post-mortem. Dylan saw Vicky’s nostrils flare, her breathing become shallow and her lips turn pale. This part of the job was the worse for her, but she was so very proud that unlike some she never turned down the chance to see for herself the injuries that had been inflicted on the victim, by the murderer, and therefore get the chance to learn what she could from the experts first hand. Dylan was on the edge of his seat. On his mind the circumstances of the incident that he would relay to the pathologist once in the examination room.
The lifeless, naked body of Patti Heinz lay on her back on the stainless-steel table. Her bra still around her neck, as instructed by Dylan at the scene.
‘Well, perhaps the wrong words to use because she’s here, but she certainly looks like she was a very healthy girl young girl.’ Mary’s eyes flew up to look in the police officer’s direction. ‘A gymnast you say Detective Inspector Dylan?’
‘Yes, and a very good one from what we’re told.’ Recalling the circumstances of the discovery of Patti’s body to the pathologist was easy for Dylan. Having attended the scene, spoken to the family and listened to what fellow officers and the CSI experts told him, Dylan was about to find out how she had died.
Mary Morris took tapings from the body. She swabbed around the breast area and Patti’s mouth before moving on to take samples of head and pubic hair, both cut and pulled. She scrutinised the bruising around her shoulders.
Dylan took several sideways glances at Vicky. Her anxiety visibly less, as her interest grew. With bated breath her eyes were focused on the pathologists next move.
‘In relation to the bra I want to swab the inside of the knot after it is photographed.’ Mary stopped whilst the CSI took the images she required. ‘As I remove it,’ she continued, ‘I’ll swab beneath it,’ she said carrying out the act. ‘If our attacker hasn’t worn gloves we may get bits of skin off the hands here.’
The item of clothing was passed very carefully to the exhibits officer and immediately bagged. At the conclusion of the examination the pathologist would sign the label on each article and sample she had taken.
Next came the detailed inspection of the body from head to toe. Mary took the vaginal and anal swabs as gently as if the young girl was still alive. Held with the precision of a surgeon’s knife the earbud-like sticks helped her in the collection of blood from her legs. She hovered, pausing for a moment or two periodically over bruises and marks on the shoulders and breasts.
‘Likely to have been caused by a firm grip,’ she said pointing to the bruise at the top of her arm.’ She stepped to the side and moved her gloved hand above the vagina, ‘and there’s bruising here too,’ she said pointing a finger. ‘Everything I see appears to be consistent with her having had intercourse – prior to this event what is also evident is that she was a virgin. There is evidence of the presence of the hymen.’ Mary’s eyes turned upwards. Her attention turned to the head and neck. Patti’s eyes were heavily bloodshot with petechiae present. Bruising around her neck was visible. ‘Here we have a thumb mark. Which indicates to me that manual strangulation took place as well as the use of her bra as a ligature. I suggest this caused the blood vessels in her eyes to pop. We may know more when we open her up, and look at the carotid arteries.’
‘Is it true that a normal individual compressing a single carotid artery will have no effect?’ said Vicky, her restlessness had now disappeared and she was enthralled.
‘Little,’ said Mary. ‘The two carotid arteries lie in the front of the neck on either side of the windpipe and carry blood from the heart to the brain.’ The pathologists gloved finger pointed to the position of the arteries in the neck. ‘They carry around ninety per cent of the brain’s blood, with the rest coming from two small vertebral arteries that travel along the spine to the back of the brain. Compressing both carotid arteries can cause the loss of consciousness within fifteen to twenty seconds and death in around two to four minutes. The general rule of thumb is that if the heart stops, the victim will lose consciousness in about four seconds if standing, eight if sitting and twelve if lying down.’
‘Reflecting the effects of gravity on the blood flow...’ said Vicky.
‘That’s correct. This is mostly true if both carotid arteries are suddenly pressed shut. But, that’s not so easy to do.’
‘To the brain, the complete interruption of blood flow through the carotids would look the same as it would if the heart had stopped.’ Vicky was thoughtful. ‘Either way, the brain wouldn’t receive a blood supply, and the brain needs a continuous blood supply to function.’
‘Absolutely! Dizziness, loss of consciousness, and sudden death are simply graduations along the same scale. That is, what makes you dizzy can also make you lose consciousness, and the longer the loss of blood supply to the brain would eventually cause death. One of the things that can do this is a compression of the carotid arteries.’
‘So it depends on how much the arteries are compressed?’
‘Yes, brief compression can cause dizziness, longer compression can cause loss of consciousness, and even longer compression can cause death.’
‘If the carotid arteries are only partially compressed though the victim may have no problems at all.’
‘A major significance here is most definitely how severely the arteries are compressed.’
‘Significant compression can cause death more quickly?’
‘Deadly compression can result from strangulation, either manual or ligature – hanging, or an aggressive choke hold.’
‘So, let me get this right, depending upon the nature, force and duration of the compression to the carotid arteries, the victim could have no symptoms, become dizzy, lose consciousness or die?’
Mary nodded emphatically. ‘And this action can progressively move very quickly from one stage to the next.’
‘If the victim struggled, the perpetrator could intermittently release the compression and this would prolong the ordeal though.’
‘Yes, and by overpowering the victim, the killer could render them unconscious in twenty seconds, and kill them in two minutes...’
Dylan’s phone rang, making Vicky jump, such was her concentration. She turned to face Dylan and her brow held a frown. Dylan turned away to listen to the caller. Permission was being sought to retrieve clothing from the scene for Elliot Black. ‘I haven’t an issue with that,’ he said, his voice sounding muffled through is mask. ‘Liaise with the uniform duty inspector, and remind them that I want the scene protecting overnight – from the outside.’ As he put his mobile phone back in his pocket and turned to face the team preparations were being made to take the plastic evidence bags from her hands that had been placed over them at the scene to preserve any evidence they might hold.
‘I’ll do individual scrapings of each finger,’ Mary said raising one finger of the right hand, ‘and take clippings from the nails.’
Dylan rummaged in his pocket for his mints a few minutes later, and popped one in his mouth before offering them around. Vicky took a sip of her water. The body was about to be opened up. Nothing could prepare even a seasoned detective for this distasteful act, as necessary as it was.
The examination took two hours and on conclusion Mary Morris confirmed what they suspected.
‘One of the most common misconceptions in forensic science concerns the ability to specify an exact time of death,’ she said as she slid behind the desk in an adjoining office and offered the seats in front to the officers. Trevor the mortuary attendant hovered in the background. Trevor had been there as long as Dylan could remember. What made a person want to be a mortuary assistant he wondered? ‘Another, revolves around the presumed ability of us, as forensic pathologists to definitively differentiate between antemortem injuries and post-mortem changes in a body, depending on the degree of decomposition and character of the post-mortem artefacts, such differentiation may not be possible. Wounds inflicted immediately before or immediately after death, the perimortem interval, are particularly problematic. However, in this case I can confirm, in simple terms, this poor young girl has been raped and strangled to death. Hopefully, the swabs I have taken will contain DNA sufficient to identify the offender. All relevant samples have now been taken and retained for further examination, so my job here is done.’ Mary laid her hands flat on the desk as she concluded. ‘The cause of death for the Coroner is one of strangulation – confirmed to me by the condition of the carotid artery. The head wound she sustained, whilst it broke the skin, didn’t damage her skull. But I would suggest the blow was with such force to have likely rendered her unconscious or at the very least, she’d be dazed. This being the case I would suggest that the attacker would have had immediate control over her before she knew what was happening to her. There are no marks to assist me as to what instrument was used by the attacker, but it split the skin, and it caused external bleeding.’
‘The bruising to her nose?’ said Dylan.
‘Her nose isn’t broken. However, it is possible that she was hit in the face, or the injury could have been sustained whilst laid face down on the floor. If her head was pushed into the carpet, that would also account for some of the bruising to her shoulders. There is also reddening to her knees... We have to consider that she may have been raped from behind.’
The Coroner’s Officer Jim Duggan was stood on the corridor. His half smile flaccid. The atmosphere was sombre. Dylan and Vicky stepped out. ‘Liaise with Jaene will you,’ said Dylan. ‘The family can view their daughter’s body as they wish now.’
‘The body is about to be taken to the viewing room,’ said Jim. ‘I’ll give Jaene a ring.’
The viewing room was dimly lit – an attempt to hide the bruising and lesson the trauma? It was a similar size to the small bedroom at home, with an entry and an exit to enable loved ones to pass through. The room was minimalistic, it housed the trolley upon which Patti’s body lay, covered in a starched white sheet, her face and arms exposed – the smell of potpourri wafted in the air. Dylan stood alone by her side as he waited to hear from Vicky that Jaene and the family had arrived at the mortuary. It was quiet, peaceful, still. ‘I promise I’ll find out who did this to you,’ he said in a whisper. The words went around and around in his head as he stared at her young face – she looked at peace. Patti’s eyes had been closed and a little make-up applied to conceal the bruising, and the cut at the front of her head. Contrary to the pictures of her in her stage make-up for gymnastic events she looked, as she was, but a child. He turned his head to see that the curtains to the narrow outer corridor where the parents would be brought were closed. The family would see their loved one in the first instance through that window, before moving inside where they would be able to touch her.
‘Are you ready?’ said the assistant a few minutes later, his hand firmly on the pull cord that would pull back the curtains to allow them to see the body, much like the unveiling of a plaque. Sandra reluctantly nodded. Her chest rose and fell in quick time. Elliot’s face was impassive. His jawbone twitched, the only indication of his inner turmoil.
Dylan prepared himself, inhaling deeply, aware of what was to happen. The corridor was narrow and stuffy and the tension tangible. The Coroner’s Officer and Vicky exchanged a quick knowing look. Jaene’s attention was on Sandra and Elliot. The curtains were very slowly drawn back – but nothing could lessen the shock of what Patti’s parents were about to see.
‘Oh, my god!’ Sandra gasped, on the wave of a sharp intake of breath. The raised flat palm of her hand instantly flew out towards the glass window, stopped and lingered mid-air before reaching its intended destination as a white knuckled fist on the wall. The scream that emanated from her lips was inhuman to Dylan’s ears. Jaene put her arm out and grasped Patti’s mum’s hand in hers. Without further ado she led Sandra gently to the viewing room door. As Elliot reached the entrance he hesitated and turned to look back at Dylan, who urged him to go on, with a nod of his head. Vicky moved to stand next to Dylan and they observed. She knew him well enough to know that his calm exterior masked his emotions as he watched Sandra wail uncontrollably, taking her daughter’s cold hand in hers. Instantly she fell to her knees.
‘I don’t want you to be frightened,’ she said to Patti, in a whisper. ‘I’m here. You’re not alone.’ She started to sing a child’s lullaby, then stopped – because her tears wouldn’t allow her to go on. When she regained her composure she repeated the Lord’s Prayer over and over again, amongst telling Patti how much she loved her until Elliot put his hands under her arms and helped her to her feet. A few moments passed in silence. She didn’t turn to look at her partner but sniffed, wiped her eyes with the handkerchief he offered, kissed Patti’s hand and sobbed into his chest as if her heart would break.
‘Her hand was icy.’ Dylan heard her say to Jaene. Elliot’s body started to shake, his face buckled and he broke down. He wiped his tears away the moment they hit his cheeks with the back of his hand, corrected his posture and stood tall.
Dylan glanced across at Vicky. He could see pity in her watery eyes. He had to remain strong, stand back from what was happening, close his mind to the emotion and focus on the investigation. There was only one thing that he could do for Patti and her family now and that was to find the killer. It wouldn’t give them closure as a lot of people hoped, or thought. Their lives would never be the same from this day on. He also knew there was a high percentage of couples who broke up after the loss of a child, to murder. What finding the killer would do, was answer some of the many questions that at this time they had no answers for, and stop them wondering if everyone they met in the future could potentially be Patti’s murderer. Dylan knew the statistics were high for the victim knowing their killer – hence the detective’s mantra to ‘cover the ground beneath your feet’. But, first impressions were that there was no indication of who was responsible for Patti’s murder.
Dylan’s mind was back on the family. There was no time limit placed on this reuniting but he knew it was time to leave...
‘But she might wake up!’ Sandra looked distressed at the detective’s beckoning. ‘Look! She’s fine! It’s just a scratch on her head, that can’t have killed her. Please, please don’t make me leave her here...’
Slowly but surely Jaene and Elliot shepherded Sandra out of the viewing room and as the curtains closed to the corridor Sandra swayed, ‘She needs a blanket, she’s cold,’ she said. Her voiced sounded as if she had been drugged. All hands went out to steady her as she collapsed in Dylan’s expectant arms. Swiftly, she was taken to Accident and Emergency. A doctor and a nurse watched over her as she came to.
‘Tell me, do you have any pain?’ said the doctor. Her look of wonderment was a brief respite before the reality of her situation came to mind. Then she turned her head on the pillow, screwed up her eyes and cried, tears of pain, real pain that no one could take away.
‘We’ll get something that will help,’ said the doctor laying a gentle hand upon her arm. He spoke quietly to the nurse who swiftly led the curtained area no doubt in search of the prescribed medication.
Dylan walked out of the hospital with Vicky at his side. ‘I don’t know about you but I need a drink,’ she said.
‘Has the necessary staffing been arranged for tomorrow morning’s briefing?’
Vicky nodded.
‘Scene secure and protected. Incident room fired up.’
‘It has.’
‘After what we’ve witnessed today I think we deserve a bottle.’ Dylan looked at his watch, found his mobile in his pocket and rang Jen. The cool breeze that blew softly on his face was welcome as he stood waiting for her to pick up. He opened the car door. Vicky flopped into the passenger side. He saw her close her eyes and she lay her head back on the headrest. Her cheeks puffed out. She exhaled slowly.
‘Was Jen okay with it?’ she said, as Dylan slid into the driving seat a few minutes later.
‘Went to answering machine,’ he said as he started the engine. ‘She’ll be fine.’
‘I guess she’s no choice.’ She took a sideways glance at Dylan who was preoccupied manoeuvring the car out of the car park. ‘Some people haven’t the sense they were born with,’ Dylan said under his breath as a woman on her mobile phone let her children run around the parked cars.
Dylan stopped the car abruptly at the junction to the main road. He looked quickly right and left before he steered it out onto the busy road. They drove in silence for a while before becoming gridlocked in the rush hour traffic.
‘Patti’s mother and Elliot are going to be subjected to independent interviews tomorrow regarding Patti’s background and their own movements – it won’t be easy for either of them,’ he told Vicky.
‘For now they need time to come to terms with their daughter’s death – as if a few sleepless hours is enough.’ Vicky turned to look out of her window and watch the cars pass by in the opposite direction.
‘Sadly we can’t afford them longer.’ Dylan’s jaw was set. He looked impatiently at his watch.
‘The Anchor, that’ll do,’ said Vicky, pointing to the pub entrance, two cars ahead.
The two detectives sat together in a quiet, dark corner of the snug. There was a rushing sound of vehicles outside giving the impression that the traffic was moving more freely. Vicky picked up the empty bottle. ‘Shall I get another?’ Dylan’s phone bleeped. ‘Jen sends her love,’ he said, before tossing his phone back on the table. He handed her his empty glass. ‘I’ll have a pint of Coke.’
‘It seems ages since I’ve seen Jen. How is she?’ she said as she stood. Her voice was more cheery, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. Dylan eyes found hers. They were bleak.
‘It’s not easy, but she’s coping, some days are better than others.’ He sat up and changed the subject quickly to the lesser painful of the two for him. ‘Am I right in thinking that Elliot Black said he thought no one was in the house when he went upstairs to get his phone charger?’
‘You’re thinking that he would have seen Patti’s bag at the bottom of the aren’t you? But we didn’t see it immediately either,’ she said.
‘Mmm...’
‘Crisps or nuts?’ she asked. ‘I haven’t eaten today.’
‘Me neither. Tell you what the steak house is open shall we head over there?’
‘Sounds good to me. I’ve no one waiting for me at home.’
