A Silent Truth E-Book

Rachel Amphlett

• Herausgeber: Saxon Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

When the body of a young woman is found by the side of a quiet country road, police first suspect a hit and run.

Then a darker side to the victim is uncovered – a dangerous addiction that led to her violent death.

With little sympathy from a local population, Detective Mark Turpin faces a daunting task to track down her killer.

When a second victim dies after a ferocious attack, Mark realises someone is determined to hide the truth.

Both victims kept to the shadows of society – will their secrets die with them?

A Silent Truth is the fourth book in the Detective Mark Turpin series from USA Today bestselling author Rachel Amphlett.

Leseprobe

A SILENT TRUTH

A DETECTIVE MARK TURPIN CRIME THRILLER

RACHEL AMPHLETT

A Silent Truth © 2022 Rachel Amphlett

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. While the locations in this book are a mixture of real and imagined, the characters are totally fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is entirely coincidental.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

About the Author

CHAPTERONE

Julie Tillcott cursed under her breath, her ankle rolling in the strapped high heels while she tried to balance across the gravel path leading away from the gastro pub.

The door slammed shut behind her, then swung open a split second later.

Heavy footsteps hurried to catch up with her, a man’s frustrated curse carrying on the light breeze before his rough fingertips grazed her shoulder.

‘Jules, wait.’

‘Fuck off.’

She shrugged off his touch, hitched up the strap of her handbag across her shoulder and stormed over to the silver V8 sports car that stood alone on the fringes of the car park.

It was far enough away to stand out and be noticed, and far enough away from the likes of the beat-up hatchback she’d seen another couple arrive in, the overweight man wearing a baggy pair of trousers and a crumpled pink polo shirt while his wife slouched along beside him in a pair of knee-high boots and a gaudy dress that resembled a pair of discarded curtains.

Behind her, voices filtered out through the open door of the pub mingled with laughter and the clink of glasses – the sounds mixing with the crunch of the small stones under her feet.

She winced as one bounced into her shoe and she hopped on one foot while shaking the other from side to side to dislodge it.

‘Jules, let me explain.’

He was catching up with her, his tone exasperated.

‘You had your chance to do that before we got here. Before…’

Before you made me look like a bloody idiot, she thought. Again.

The stone pinged out from under her heel and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Then she heard the jangle of keys behind her.

Turning, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her husband while he dangled the fob from his thumb and grinned.

The steel house key twinkled under electric lanterns hanging from a wire dangling across the car park, taunting her.

‘I’ll drive,’ he said. ‘You’re drunk.’

‘I had two glasses.’ Julie pouted. ‘Besides, it’s my car. Unlock it.’

‘And I’ve had nothing except mineral water.’ He aimed the fob at the car as he walked around to the driver’s door, then peered over the roof as another couple emerged arm in arm from the pub. ‘Get in, before you make a fool of yourself.’

‘You…’

‘Everything all right over there?’ a man’s voice called.

She turned to see the couple standing beside a dark green four-by-four, concern etched into the woman’s eyes.

‘We’re fine,’ she snapped. ‘Enjoy the rest of your evening.’

Simon was barely hiding a smug smile when she climbed in and fastened her seatbelt, and she kept her gaze firmly on the dashboard until they were out of sight of the pub.

‘Why do you have to do that?’ she asked eventually.

‘What?’

‘You always do this. Ask me to one of your so-called investment meetings and then make me look stupid in front of everyone.’

‘I don’t make you look stupid,’ he said, his tone conciliatory. ‘You hate anything to do with numbers.’

She crossed her arms over her chest, sinking into the seat a little more. ‘That makes me feel so much better.’

‘I’m just saying. You’re good at other things.’

‘Then why ask me?’

‘Because it makes the people there less wary. A woman’s touch and all that.’

‘Oh, thanks. So now I’m just your piece of arm candy, is that it?’

‘That’s not what I meant…’

‘Do they even know I’m a joint partner in the business?’ she said, twisting in her seat.

His jaw clenched, and then he down-shifted, powering around a tight corner.

‘Do they?’

‘It didn’t come up in the conversation, did it?’ He shot her a quick look before turning his attention back to the twisting road. ‘But you didn’t tell them either.’

‘God, I’m sorry. Perhaps that was because you and he were completely ignoring me while I was left to talk to that wife of his about what bloody colour she wants the living room walls painted. As if I care…’

‘It distracted her, so that’s good,’ said Simon. He pressed the accelerator. ‘All the time she was wondering about decor and who the neighbours are, she wasn’t listening properly to the proposal. She’d been asking too many questions.’

‘They were good questions.’ Julie bit back the next words, her throat aching and frustrated tears stinging the corners of her eyes. ‘I’m tired of playing the sidekick. I’m tired of… of this.’

He laughed. ‘Are you kidding me? You love it. How else do you think we can afford a car like this?’

‘It’s my car, not ours.’

‘Whatever. Your cut of the profits every year pays for it.’

‘But it’s dirty money, isn’t it?’

‘What?’

The car swerved a little as he gaped at her then quickly corrected his course before a motorbike shot past in the opposite direction. He indicated left, turning into a narrow lane that cut through the Vale towards home.

The back road was one they often used in the evening to get to Charney Bassett.

Less traffic.

Less likely to be caught if they’d had a bit too much to drink.

Julie shrugged away the thought.

They weren’t the only ones.

‘They don’t really want a retirement property in Majorca, Si. She loves living in Wantage. She told me.’ Julie flicked her hair over her shoulder and kicked off her shoes, warming to her subject. ‘They have a two-year-old granddaughter, did you know that? She has special needs, so if they move to Spain they won’t see her unless they travel back here a few times a year. They can’t afford to do that, not really.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Did you tell her it was a bad idea?’

She fiddled with the seam of her dress.

‘Jules? What did you say before you walked out?’

‘I don’t want to do this anymore.’

‘Then resign.’

‘I meant us, not just the business.’ She heard it then, the tiredness in her voice. ‘I hate what we do.’

A stunned silence filled the car, the only sounds coming from the whoosh of the tyres over the asphalt as Simon kept white-knuckled hands on the steering wheel.

It was why she loved the sports car. She could listen to the road while she drove, drowning out all other thoughts.

‘What’s brought all this on?’ he said finally. ‘Is it your time of the month?’

Her jaw dropped. ‘You what?’

‘Well, it’s all a bit out of the blue.’

‘No it bloody isn’t.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Can’t you see what’s happening? What’s been happening? All we talk about is work, or who’s a likely candidate for one of your property deals, or how you can screw such-and-such for another twenty grand, or…’

The car had slowed, and he was frowning, his attention fully on the road in front of him.

‘See, you’re doing it again. You’re not listening to me.’

‘Shut up.’

‘What––’

She jerked forward as Simon stomped on the brakes, the seatbelt digging into her collarbone while she reached out blindly for something to hold on to.

‘Shit…’

Hearing him ratchet the handbrake, Julie raised her gaze and prised her fingernails from the upholstery.

Beyond the front of the car, beyond the pitted surface of the lane and the reach of the headlights, she could see a––

‘Is that a deer?’ said Simon.

‘It looks like someone hit it and it landed in the ditch.’

‘There’s blood on it.’

‘Like I said, it’s been hit by a car.’

He said nothing, but flicked the lights to full beam.

‘I’m not sure. That doesn’t look like a deer, does it?’

Unclipping his seatbelt, he opened the car door.

‘Wait – where are you going?’ Julie reached across to him, wrapping her fingers around his shirt sleeve.

‘To take a closer look.’

‘I don’t like this.’

‘Then stay here.’

The door slammed, and he walked around to the front of the car, his hands by his sides.

Julie watched while he took a tentative step closer, then shoved her feet back into her shoes and climbed out.

‘Si, we should keep going.’

‘I just want to check it out, all right? I’m not happy about driving on until I know what it is.’

‘If it’s a deer that’s been hit by a car, there’s nothing we’re going to be able to do for it, is there? What’re you going to do? Call a vet?’

‘I don’t know.’

He shuffled forward, then turned to her. ‘Won’t be a minute.’

‘Wait – I’ll come with you.’

Despite their argument, she reached out her hand and slipped her fingers through his.

His grip was cold, clammy.

Swallowing, she realised he was as nervous as she was, and took a shaking breath.

‘Come on.’

They walked to the far reaches of the headlight beam, then stopped.

‘We should’ve moved the car closer first,’ she said, turning to him.

‘Jules, get back.’

He wasn’t looking at her but staring into the gloom beyond the light, his face pale.

Wrenching his fingers from hers, he gave her a shove that sent her stumbling a few steps to the right.

Confused, Julie squinted into the darkness, then staggered, a choked scream escaping her lips.

‘Jesus Christ,’ she managed. ‘Those are someone’s legs.’

CHAPTERTWO

Detective Sergeant Mark Turpin leaned back in his chair and emitted an ill-disguised sigh.

Darkness may have fallen over Abingdon but the incident room hummed with nascent activity and an underlying sense of desperation.

The stink of stale coffee and too many anxious officers hoping for a breakthrough filled the air, despite the feeble attempts of the ducted air conditioning.

A light fixed into the suspended ceiling above the photocopier flickered at the fringes of his vision, and he blinked to counteract the niggling headache that was forming.

At the far end of the room, a junior constable sprayed cleaning agent over a whiteboard strewn with jumbled handwriting in different coloured text before scrubbing at the telltale signs of an investigation now closed.

With three arrests made that morning by a small team led by Detective Inspector Ewan Kennedy, a stack of archive boxes next to the whiteboard now waited to be couriered to the Crown Prosecution Service in Oxford the next day.

One down, and plenty more active investigations yet to be solved.

Mark rubbed at his temples and forced himself to reread the witness statement laid out across his computer keyboard, studiously ignoring the stack of files that blocked his view of the screen.

‘Still here, Sarge?’ PC Alice Fields paused beside his desk, her cap tucked under her arm and the radio fixed to her utility vest turned down low. She eyed the paperwork covering the surface, her lip curling. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Slowly,’ he mumbled. ‘I figured I’d go through two more of these before heading home just so there’s less to do tomorrow.’

‘Except they’re breeding like rats.’ Detective Constable Alex McClellan peered over Mark’s computer screen from behind a similar stack of files. ‘And I’m going cross-eyed.’

‘Call it a night,’ Mark said, leaning back in his chair and biting back a yawn. ‘I thought you left half an hour ago.’

Alex shrugged. ‘I didn’t want to leave if you weren’t. I’d feel a bit crap doing that.’

Alice’s radio squawked, and she stepped away before turning up the volume.

‘Seriously, you should go.’ Mark gathered up the witness statement and shoved it into an open folder at his elbow. ‘These cases are all retrospective, and we’ve already sorted out which ones we want to talk to next. I thought you and Becky were going out to dinner tonight anyway?’

‘Not until eight,’ Alex said. He pushed back his chair, groaning as he dug his knuckles into his back. ‘God, I’ve been sitting for too long.’

‘That’s me out of here,’ said Alice. ‘There’s been a break-in over at Drayton.’

‘Stay safe.’ Mark watched the young PC hurry from the incident room, then waved Alex away. ‘Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Seven-thirty sharp, Sarge.’

‘Right-o.’

Standing, he bit back a curse as his neck twinged in protest, then he began picking up the files he’d stacked on the edge of the desk.

A slight acetone smell carried on the air from the whiteboard and he looked up and nodded at the constable who now started to pack away her desk for the night before turning his attention to the woman striding towards him, a determined look in her eyes.

DC Jan West had been partnered with him when he’d first joined Thames Valley Police after leaving his previous role with Wiltshire Constabulary, and had taken him under her wing as she had done with countless new members of the investigative team.

‘Have you eaten yet?’ she demanded, dropping her bag on the desk beside him before resting her hand on her hip.

‘Not yet. I was going to give Lucy a call and ask her if she wanted me to pick up a takeaway on the way home.’

She nodded, mollified, then cast her gaze over the folders. ‘How’s it going?’

‘We’ve whittled the crimes into three different categories, and now we’re trying to spot trends.’ He ran a hand over thick curly hair. ‘We’ve got four potential suspects, but not enough information to tell whether they’re linked or working alone.’

‘What’s your gut feel?’

‘My gut says this is going to take forever.’

She grimaced in response, then looked up as DI Kennedy’s door opened and he headed towards them.

‘Any news from Headquarters yet?’ Mark heard the hopefulness in his voice, and bit back a curse.

Kennedy shook his head. ‘Not yet. How’s it—’

Jan held up her hands. ‘Best not ask that, guv.’

‘Right. That good, eh? Well, hang in there, Mark. The Professional Standards investigation is only a formality. You won’t be stuck doing a desk job for much longer.’

‘Understood, guv. It’s just that it’s been a few months already, and…’

‘It’s important work you’re doing.’ Kennedy gestured to the files. ‘These people have lost family heirlooms, valuable mementoes, things that are often impossible to replace. And we have a glut of cases all involving vulnerable members of our society being duped into letting fraudsters into their homes. It’s on the Chief Superintendent’s watchlist this year, and she wants results.’

‘Got it.’ Mark’s shoulders sagged, and he reached out to turn off his computer.

Jan’s phone trilled, and she shot him an apologetic glance before turning away.

‘I have to get this. I’m on call tonight.’

‘I know.’

Since a suspect had died before being arrested on charges of murder and arson earlier that winter, Mark had been relegated to the incident room. Unable to work in major crimes until the representatives from the force’s Professional Standards department were satisfied with his statement about his involvement in that accidental death, he was back to working burglaries and fraud cases.

Kennedy hovered at his side while he stuffed his mobile phone in his pocket and slung his backpack over his shoulder, then both men paused to listen to Jan’s side of the conversation.

‘… dead on scene? Okay, what’s the location?’ She paused and checked her watch. ‘Yes, I can be there in about twenty minutes. Thanks.’

‘Suspicious death?’ Kennedy asked as she replaced the receiver.

‘A young woman’s been found dead on a back road between Wantage and Charney Bassett. A couple found her lying in a shallow ditch – only her legs were visible from the road. They thought she was a dead deer to start off with, apparently.’

Kennedy looked around the incident room. ‘Is Caroline still here?’

‘She should be. I think I saw her heading downstairs to the vending machine.’

Mark saw the DI cast a quick glance his way before turning back to Jan.

‘Best take her with you.’

‘Guv.’

Mark watched as she collated together her kit and checked her mobile phone and warrant card were in her bag while he battened down a searing envy towards DC Caroline Roberts.

It wasn’t her fault he was still relegated to the side benches.

Jan tossed a wave over her shoulder and hurried from the room, car keys jangling in her hand.

‘I’m sure this won’t be for much longer,’ Kennedy said gruffly. ‘Hang in there.’

‘It’s been months.’

‘These things take time. Especially when someone dies before he can be arrested. And especially when that person was known to you, and that he was a suspect in another force’s investigation, and—’

‘—especially when my ex-wife accidentally ran him over.’

‘Quite.’

The DI held up a finger as his mobile rang, looked at the number, and then turned back to his office, the phone to his ear.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Alone, Mark forced himself to take a deep breath.

Somewhere within the building a vacuum cleaner roared to life, the contracted cleaners starting their daily sweep through the building to clear away the detritus left by the inhabitants of the busy town police station.

He hoisted his backpack up his shoulder and exhaled while Kennedy’s empty assurances went round in his head before the stack of folders caught his eye once more.

‘Fuck.’

CHAPTERTHREE

Jan squeezed out from the passenger door and cast a furtive glance at how close Caroline had parked to the hawthorn as branches scraped against the paintwork.

A fine drizzle misted the air around her, clinging to her hair and face and soaking the hedgerow and long grass that feathered her trouser hems.

Up ahead, the rest of the lane had been blocked by Traffic division, a series of wooden sawhorses lined across the road with blue and white tape stretched between them.

In front of those, the approach to the crime scene was cluttered with two patrol vehicles, a dark panel van, and a coroner’s vehicle.

Beyond the tape, she could see a silver sports car parked awkwardly across the lane as if it had braked to a sudden standstill.

The flashing lights from the closest patrol vehicle tore through the pitch-black night and illuminated the bare branches of oak and beech trees that crowded over the narrow lane.

Everywhere she looked, there was a frantic sense of time already slipping away as the first responders paced out the asphalt beyond the tape, heads bowed while they walked side-by-side with their colleagues from the forensics team.

‘Sorry,’ Caroline said after watching Jan sidle along the car and then pause to pick out leaves from her hair. ‘I didn’t want to block the rest of the road in case anyone else turned up.’

Jan pulled at an errant tangle of plant life between her fingers, her lips twisting at the soggy mess she’d extracted before flicking it to the ground, unwilling to linger on what it might have contained.

‘No problem.’

She fell into step beside the younger detective, noting how Caroline still towered over her despite the heels she wore.

‘Any news about Mark’s case?’ Caroline said, slowing as they reached the first liveried car.

‘Not yet.’

‘Do you think Kennedy will make me go back to the smaller cases once he’s in the clear?’

Jan heard the note of panic in her colleague’s voice, and shook her head. ‘Both you and Alex have really impressed him these past few months, don’t worry.’

Caroline’s face brightened a moment under the strobing lights, then sobered as they took in the small group gathered a few metres ahead, heads bowed while a figure dressed head to toe in protective overalls knelt at the verge.

She cleared her throat. ‘Who do we speak to first?’

‘Nathan Willis – over there.’

Jan led the way towards the stocky uniformed constable with a clipboard in his hand, his brow creased while he completed all the documentation that Tracy, the team’s case manager, and her team would upload into the HOLMES2 database to record the start of the inquiry.

He looked up at the sound of their footsteps. ‘I wondered who they’d send out. Any news about…’

‘Not yet.’ Jan peered at his notes from the beam cast by the police car’s headlights, then blinked. ‘If you’ve got a torch handy, can you switch those off? One of us is going to get a headache at this rate.’

‘Oh. Sure.’ He reached into the car, flicked the switch, then looked up as a set of spotlights burst to life from behind the tape. ‘Looks like forensics are all set now anyway.’

‘What’ve you got so far?’ Caroline asked, shuffling closer to Jan so she could read over her shoulder.

‘A woman in her early twenties, found at seven-fifteen this evening by a Mr and Mrs Tillcott when they were driving home from that new gastro pub outside Wantage.’ Nathan grimaced. ‘I don’t think they’re going to be Mr and Mrs for much longer though, given the way they’ve been carrying on since we got here.’

Jan raised her eyebrows. ‘Anything to indicate it might’ve been a hit and run?’

‘Not at first look, no. Forensics plan to take swabs from their car’s bodywork just in case though. John Newton’s on shift with me tonight, and he’s taken a look at the radiator grille and the wheel arches.’ He held up a mobile phone. ‘We took photos too so I’ll upload those to the system as soon as I get a chance.’

‘Good. Okay, what else have you got?’

‘She’s definitely dead.’ The constable jerked his chin at the hooded figure at the verge. ‘I know the pathologist has to confirm that, but…’

‘Injuries?’

‘She’s had a bloody great whack to the back of the head.’ He swallowed. ‘Whoever did it, or whatever it was caused by, hit her hard enough that her eye popped out of its socket.’

‘Jesus.’ Caroline moved a few paces away, then turned back to him. ‘Any ID?’

The constable shook his head. ‘Once we realised she was dead, we didn’t want to touch her clothing until forensics were here and had a look.’

Jan handed back the card, before one of the CSI technicians beckoned to her from within the taped-off cordon. ‘Okay, thanks, Nathan. Looks like we’re needed.’

CHAPTERFOUR

Hurrying across to where the hooded figure stood waiting, the spotlight beams sparkling off the asphalt, Jan took in the sight of eight other forensics specialists spread out beyond the cordon.

While Caroline signed in, she watched them work, mindful that everything that would follow over the course of the investigation was dependent on what they found – or didn’t find.

The CSI technicians conveyed a sense of busyness, of processes being followed that were second nature, and a patience that kept their heads bowed and voices calm while they tried to make sense of a young woman’s death.

Over to her left, one of the technicians cradled a plaster cast, and she realised that despite the wet weather they might have discovered tyre or foot prints in the muddied verge close to the body, or perhaps some other evidence that would help them piece together the victim’s final moments.

Further inside the cordon, a group of three similarly hooded figures gathered closer to the overgrown grass, a camera flash illuminating the hawthorn hedgerow every few seconds before notes were compared on a shared tablet computer.

‘Have you got gloves?’ Jan said, rummaging in her pocket for a pair.

Caroline waggled her fingers in response. ‘Ready?’

‘As I’ll ever be.’

Nodding her thanks as her colleague lifted the cordon tape, Jan ducked underneath and led the way over to where the pathologist stood with Jasper Smith, the CSI lead beside the open door of the panel van.

‘Gillian, Jasper.’ She nodded to both, then peered around them to see a pair of legs poking out from the long grass. ‘What are your initial thoughts?’

Gillian Appleworth lowered the mask from her face and pushed back the hood of the protective suit, sadness in her eyes. ‘I can confirm life extinct. I’ll be able to tell you more about how and when she died after the post mortem, but there’s one hell of a wound to her skull.’

‘Was she killed here?’ said Caroline. ‘We were talking to Nathan Willis about a potential hit and run.’

‘Too early to say.’ Gillian gave the younger detective a warning glance. ‘Especially in these conditions. We’ll know more at daylight and once Jasper’s team have finished.’

Chastised, Caroline pulled her notebook from her bag and lowered her gaze.

‘Could you let me know if your lot find some ID on her, Jasper?’ Jan said. ‘Nathan didn’t want to disturb her clothing until you’d done your preliminary examination.’

‘We haven’t found anything yet. The fingertip search might turn up something. We’ll start that once the preliminaries have been completed.’ The CSI lead reached into the panel van’s open side door and pulled out a set of protective coveralls encased within a vacuum-sealed plastic bag. ‘Pop these on, and I’ll take you over there so you can get a sense of what we’re dealing with.’

‘I’ll let you get on,’ Gillian said, ‘and I’ll confirm the details for the post mortem in the morning with you, Jan.’

‘Thanks.’ Passing the first set of coveralls to Caroline, Jan took another set from Jasper and pulled them over her trousers and jacket. Tugging matching bootees over her shoes, she then swept her hair under the hood and scuffed over the asphalt towards a second cordon.

‘I take it your officers explained about the injuries they could see when they found her?’ he said, holding up the tape for her and Caroline.

‘Enough that I know this isn’t going to be pretty.’ She could see the victim’s legs more clearly now, the pale skin blotchy in places. ‘What’s that, carpet rash or something?’

‘Gillian wondered the same thing, which is why she was being particularly cagey.’ Jasper nodded to two of his team who were measuring distances from various natural landmarks and the road to where the victim lay. The figures stood to one side, pausing their work while Jan and Caroline moved closer.

She swallowed.

Whoever their victim was, she was young – early twenties, no more – and underweight. Her right cheekbone protruded from an angled jawline, while the left…

‘Jesus, Nathan wasn’t kidding about her eye.’

Jasper crouched beside the woman and gently turned her face so that the overhead spotlight shone amongst her hair. ‘You can see that there’s a considerable indentation here.’

‘Got a torch handy?’

One of the technicians handed her one from the kit bag at his feet, and Jan shone it into the undergrowth beside the CSI lead.

‘Not much blood around here.’

‘That’s probably why Gillian didn’t want to comment on whether she was killed here or not,’ Caroline mused.

‘Any other injuries?’

Jasper shook his head, then rose to his feet. ‘Again, Gillian will be able to tell you more after the post mortem.’

‘Okay, thanks,’ Jan sighed. ‘We’ll let you get on. Could you call my mobile if you find anything else?’

‘Will do.’

She trudged back to the first cordon, peeling away the protective suit and then handing it all to Caroline who wandered off to find a biohazard bin.

Raised voices carried through the buzz of activity around her, and she looked across at the second patrol vehicle to see a man and a woman dressed in evening wear arguing beside it.

She wore his suit jacket over an expensive-looking silk dress, remonstrating with her hands while he shuffled his feet and fiddled with his cuff links.

‘What do you want to do next?’ said Caroline, then squinted beyond the spotlights towards the couple.

‘Let’s have a word with Mr and the soon to be ex-Mrs Tillcott to see what they’ve got to say for themselves.’

Caroline grimaced as the argument increased in volume. ‘It might be better if I let you lead this one.’

Jan snorted, then squared her shoulders. ‘I thought you might say that.’

CHAPTERFIVE

Mark heaved himself to his feet as Kennedy called the morning briefing to a start, and tried to shrug away a lethargy that shrouded him in despair.

Even his usual early walk with Hamish that morning had failed to invigorate him while they’d trudged along the muddy towpath back towards the narrowboat he shared with his other half, Lucy O’Brien.

She had tried her best, smiling on his return and handing him a freshly brewed coffee before gently tousling his hair.

‘It won’t be forever, you know that,’ she assured him.

‘It bloody feels like it is,’ he muttered under his breath now, gathering up his notebook and chucking away a blue biro that had leaked over his fingers too many times. Snatching a fresh one from Jan’s top drawer, he made his way over to the semi-circle of chairs gathered around the whiteboard at the far end of the incident room and sank into one at the back beside Alex.

He gave the younger detective a curt nod, biting back his resentment at the man’s eagerness as the briefing began, and tried to batten down the feeling that he was a pariah among senior management and therefore destined to investigate burglaries and the like for the rest of his career.

‘Right, first update please from Jan about the young female victim found bludgeoned last night over near Charney Bassett,’ Kennedy barked.

Mark watched his former partner join the DI at the front of the group, unable to prevent a smile smudging his lips.

Despite everything, he was proud of the way she had taken on more responsibilities the past few months, and missed working with her on a daily basis.

‘What did the couple who found her have to say for themselves?’ Kennedy began.

Jan shot a rueful smile towards Caroline.

‘Oh, plenty. We got the impression that the Tillcotts had been arguing prior to seeing the victim, and they were still at it when we got there.’

‘Did they run her over?’

Jan shook her head. ‘Doesn’t look like it, guv. There were no tyre marks on the road, nothing to indicate that their car had struck something. Although, given the rain that blew in last night, uniform have arranged for a forensic examination of the vehicle later this week just to make sure, and Jasper’s team did the same for the road and surrounding area.’

Kennedy nodded, and gestured for her to continue.

‘Mr Tillcott was driving, and he says that he was sticking to the speed limit – he’s local to the area, and knows the lane well. He told us that it’s renowned for deer running out in front of cars at that time of night. That’s what he thought she was at first – a deer that had been hit. He slowed down, then says he realised something was wrong so he parked about five metres from the victim, got out and confirmed it was a woman.’

‘Did he recognise her?’

‘No, guv. Neither he nor his wife have seen her before.’ Jan exhaled as she looked up from her notes. ‘They were genuinely distressed about the whole situation, that much was clear.’

‘Were there any other cars on that stretch of road?’

‘They couldn’t remember, guv. I think they were too busy arguing to notice.’

‘Statements?’

‘All being entered into the system this morning.’

‘Do we know who the victim is yet?’

‘We’re still trying to confirm her identity,’ Jan said. ‘Jasper phoned me earlier this morning to say his team found a handbag several metres away from where her body was discovered by Mr and Mrs Tillcott. He’s emailed me photos so I’ll pop those into the system when we’re done so you can all access them, but I’ve printed them out.’

She paused while Tracy took the photographs from her and pinned them to the whiteboard beside Kennedy. ‘Thanks. It looks to me like a book bag or something you’d carry a lot of items in, rather than an everyday handbag. Of course, it might not have even belonged to her, but until we know otherwise we’ll treat it as if it were hers.’

‘Anything by way of ID in there?’ asked Nathan Willis, his features wan after the late night at the crime scene.

‘There’s no driving licence for her, or anything else to help us identify who she is.’

‘What about fingerprints?’

‘She’s not in the system, guv. Moving to the other photographs, you’ll see they found a mobile phone, and a clasp purse with a bit of change in it.’

‘Anything on the phone?’ Kennedy said.

‘Digital forensics managed to access it earlier this morning but it’s hardly been used, guv. There weren’t any contacts saved to it.’

‘A burner phone then, perhaps. Was there anything else?’

‘There was a debit card. Not in her name, though.’

‘Eh?’

‘The name on it is Mr J S Humphries. The card’s been well used – the expiry date’s only two months away.’

‘J S Humphries?’ said Mark, frowning.

‘I tracked him down and spoke to him this morning,’ explained Caroline, twisting in her seat at the front to face him, then back to Kennedy. ‘He was shocked about the woman’s death, and said his card had been stolen during a burglary at his house near Stanford in the Vale last month.’

Heart lurching, Mark leaned forward, ignoring the excited squeak from Alex.

‘What’s his address?’

Caroline flicked through her notes, and then recited it.

‘Hang on.’ Mark sprang from his seat and jogged back to his desk, another set of footsteps in his wake.

‘Which one?’ said Alex breathlessly, resting his hand on top of the pile of manila folders next to his computer keyboard.

‘You’ve got the latest cases. Did you sort them into alphabetical order yet?’