Murder Club - Mark Pearson [31]
Sally fished Kate’s camera from the bag, a Canon she had bought herself as an early Christmas present. It took very high-quality stills and extremely good, high-definition video footage. Kate wanted to capture their first Christmas together, and figured it was worth the expense. Sally climbed down into the trench with Kate and handed it over to her.
‘What have you found?’ she asked.
Kate pointed at the piece of bone that was more visible now through the earth. ‘Hang on, I’ll set it up for you.’ She took the camera from the young detective constable, took the lens cap off and altered some dials. ‘Okay, focus here,’ she said, showing Sally the various dials. ‘Just hold the shutter halfway and it will do it automatically, then push it in for the shot.’
‘Okay.’
‘And push this button here for video and, as you’re filming, take some shots in the normal way and it will record both.’
‘All right, Kate. I got it. What have you seen, then?’
‘Looks like metal here.’ Kate knelt down again and brushed some more dirt away while Sally filmed. ‘Not quite sure what yet.’
After a few moments a small sliver of rounded metal became visible. ‘Take some photos here,’ she said.
Sally crouched down and fired off a number of shots.
‘Okay, Sally. That will do for now,’ said Kate. They both stood up and Kate took back the camera. ‘I think my work here is done,’ she said, putting the lens cap back on.
Sally Cartwright looked down at the sliver of metal on the bone. ‘What is it then?’ she asked.
‘In the unlikely event that the vicar’s family pet wasn’t a watch-dog, I am guessing we are dealing with human remains.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s a watch, Sally. On a human wrist bone. I am guessing the rest of whoever it is is attached also. I don’t want to contaminate the site. The forensic pathologist needs to take over from here.’
‘Outside my pay-grade then,’ said DC Cartwright, fishing her mobile phone out of her pocket.
‘Mine too nowadays, can’t say I miss it.’
The workman gestured with his sandwich at the exposed bone. ‘Murdered, you reckon?’
Kate looked at him coolly. ‘What I reckon,’ she said, ‘is you won’t be finishing this job for a little while yet. You had better phone your bosses.’
The taller man shrugged and pulled out his mobile phone.
‘No skin off mine,’ he said.
‘More than you can say for him,’ said the other man, looking down at the exposed bone and taking a last bite of his sandwich.
22.
LAURA CHILVERS GROANED and rolled onto her side.
She immediately regretted it. Her groans became deeper, visceral, and she was clearly in great pain. She breathed heavily but didn’t dare to open her eyes. She moaned like a hurt animal and held her hand to her dry lips. She tasted blood. Her eyes flew painfully open. Her stomach convulsed and she nearly retched, dry-heaving as if she was choking. But after a moment or two, she stopped and gulped some air into her lungs. She closed her eyes again. It was pitch-dark but somehow the lack of perspective, and any awareness of where she was, made her head spin and the nausea rise in her throat again. She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself and ran her other hand over her body. She was naked apart from a pair of ripped cami-knickers. She rubbed her sore hand over the smooth, silky fabric of them and groaned again.
She took some more deep breaths and put her hand to one side and almost sighed with relief. She could feel the familiar outline of her radio alarm clock on her bedside cabinet. She was home at least, and in her own bed. She knew that much, if little else. She reached tentatively around her, but no one else was there. She contemplated switching on the light but thought better of it. The throbbing in her head was getting worse if anything. As if someone had taken an ice-pick and was tapping away on it, the pain spiking through her head like a pulse. It was a pulse, of course, she knew as well as anyone what the brain did when exposed to too much alcohol, too many drugs.
Christ, she couldn’t remember what she had taken. Couldn’t remember anything much