To Cast a Shadow Chapter Two
We were looking at a path that’d been created through need rather than planning, a diversion off the official path leading to more dense undergrowth. I was glad I wasn’t with Verity, one of the DCs, who was scared of anything with multiple legs.
I followed Taz, dodging branches that bounced off him towards my face and ignoring the buzzing of flies around a scattering of waste that someone had dumped. It stunk to high heaven and I pitied the CSI who was going to have to wade through it.
“The leaves are disturbed over there, and if I’m right, that direction leads to the car park at the east side of the park.” He pointed out a few broken branches, somewhere that just didn’t look right.
I thought for a moment, trying to picture an aerial view of where we were now.
“Ten metres that way is a wall that separates the park from the back of houses on the Parkside estate. I think you’re right about the car park, but he could have parked at the end of that estate rather than the car park. ”
“How do you know it so well?”
“Worked a murder investigation there three years ago. Domestic. The houses down that end have been empty since then and boarded up. You could reverse a vehicle down the end of the road and pull stuff out of the boot and not be seen. You’d be straight into this unless the council have put a fence up.
” I led the way, finding a recently trodden path, keeping my eyes on the ground for anything that might’ve been dropped.
There was nothing of note until the trail took a right and we came out at the estate I’d mentioned, a car parked up that looked like it was ready to be written off.
Taz didn’t say anything to me, using his phone again and asking for a couple of officers to be sent over to us, calling in the registration of vehicle at the same time. He made a second call for more forensics, in case this was the vehicle that had transported Chloe Bennett.
I spent the time looking inside the vehicle, which was untidy and knackered, the material of the seats split. It was an old Vauxhall Astra, and the keys were in the ignition. I knew what Taz was going to tell me.
“It’s been declared off the road, hasn’t it?”
He nodded, looking rather pissed off. “It would’ve been too easy, wouldn’t it? Yeah, sold as scrap. Lachlan’s looking into the place that’s bought it, finding out if they’re got any CCTV.” He peered inside the car, putting on a pair of gloves from his pocket, then popped open the boot. “Fuck.”
“What is it?” I headed over. “You could fit a body in that.” Stuffed inside was a suit carrier. Aside from that it was empty.
“He’s killed her somewhere, put the body in a suit carrier.
Either walked or driven to this car, then drove it here.
That’s not someone who’s acting just on impulse.
” Taz closed the boot. “If we’re lucky, there’ll be trace evidence in the suit carrier that puts Chloe’s body inside it, and we have one piece of the jigsaw. ”
“Be good if we could have the box so we can see the picture.”
Taz managed a grin.
Chloe Bennett last posted on social media at ten past eleven the night before she died.
It was a selfie taken in the same clothes we’d found her in, hair immaculate, make-up looking like it was professionally done.
She was blowing a kiss to the camera, and it had over nine thousand likes.
I already knew this was the photo that the media would use as soon as they found out she was dead.
Her caption promised more to come with three kisses, pathos that wouldn’t be missed.
Judging from the other photos and reels on her social media, last night’s photo had been taken at her house, which potentially gave us a last known whereabouts for her, if the photo had been taken last night and it wasn’t just a coincidence she was wearing the same clothes.
That meant going to her house.
Chloe was from New Moston, a few miles outside the city centre. Her mother’s house was a dormer bungalow just off one of the main roads. A car was outside, a white Range Rover Evoke, a couple of years old but looking pristine, and I wondered if it was Chloe’s.
I knocked on the door, Taz a few footsteps behind me, taking his time and observing everything. It took a second knock before the door opened, and a woman wearing a short dressing gown answered, her hair tidied up on top of her head as if she was just about to get in the bath.
“Yeah?”
“I’m DS Mia McAllister and this is DI Taz O’Sullivan.” There weren’t enough hours in the day for all of Taz’s syllables. “Is this where Chloe Bennett lives?”
The woman chewed gum erratically. “Used to. She’s moved out, hasn’t she?”
“Are you related to her?”
“Why? What’s she done?” She looked from me to Taz and back again. “She’s alright, isn’t she?”
I flicked a glance at Taz. “Can I ask if you’re related to her?”
“I’m her mam. I’m Becky Baldwin—I was Becky Bennett.” She opened the door wider. “Do you want to come in?”
We entered, wiping out feet because for some reason Becky Bennett had light-coloured carpet in her living room, which the porch entered straight into. I dug around in the bag I had with me and passed Taz a pair of shoe covers, using another pair over mine.
“Mrs Baldwin,” I guessed her title. “When’s the last time you saw Chloe?”
She sat down on a chair near the oversized TV. “Wednesday. I went to Palma for four nights and got back yesterday. She moved out a couple of weeks ago and bobbed back Wednesday for some summer stuff in her wardrobe. I give her three months and she’ll be moving back in.”
I sat down on the sofa, a white leather affair with a couple of designer labelled cushions on it. Taz sat next to me, making the sofa seem small.
“I’m sorry, Mrs Baldwin, but we’ve reason to believe your daughter died this morning.” He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, then he let the silence cover us.
Becky Baldwin froze, her face palling, her shoulders sagging. I’ve given the death notice more times than I’d try to remember, and each time it felt a little harder, because each time I understood a little more about the aftermath.
“Are you sure it’s her?” It was nearly always the first reaction, hope that we’d made a mistake.
“We are. She was wearing the same clothes that she had on in her social media post last night. We’ll need to do a formal identification.” Taz spoke clearly and slowly. “We’re sorry for your loss.”
“How did she die? Was she raped? I’ll kill the sick fucker when I get my hands on him.” The sobs began and I went over to her, offering comfort which she took, burying her head into my shoulder. We had a family liaison officer on the way.
“We don’t know yet, but she was fully clothed. Is there anyone I can get for you, Becky? A friend or your husband to come and sit with you.” I moved slightly away from her; she still kept hold of my arms as she slumped back onto the chair, the sobs not quite as heavy.
“I’ll phone my husband in a minute. Did someone kill her or was she doing something stupid like taking drugs? I know she’d been shoving coke up her nose.” She wiped her face. “Fuck.” Another heavy sob.
“We’ll know more later,” I said, reaching for a box of tissues tucked away nearby. The living room was immaculate; everything was either white or chrome and I couldn’t see a speck of dust. “Can you give us the address where Chloe was living?”
“Apartment two one six in Paradise View—it’s just off Pollard Street in New Islington. I had no idea how she could afford it.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t fucking matter though, now, does it? It doesn’t fucking matter.”
We waited with her until her husband came back. He was five minutes away, coming into the house not sure of what to do or say, clearly upset but awkwardness translating into sharpness.“What’s she done? What’s she gotten herself into now? Drawing attention to herself with those bloody texts?”
Taz distracted him into the kitchen, while I stayed with Becky, noticing the photo of her and her daughter on the wall, one where they’d both been in a studio, posed and posh.
“How old’s Chloe there?” I asked.
“Fourteen. Hard to believe how much she’s changed.
She was always a pretty girl. She studied dance at college and picked up some work too.
She’s always got attention from men, especially older men.
When all that happened with Ryan—I warned her not do it.
” She reached for more tissues. “Mike, Mike—we need to call Sinead.” She stood up and headed into the kitchen where Taz had taken her husband.
I followed her though, seeing Mike pass her a cup of tea, wrapping an arm around her. Taz removed the tea as Becky clung to her husband, tears coming again.
We slipped out of the house, cards left, the FLO still on the way. Mike had agreed to identify the body later, and we were straight off to Chloe’s flat, hoping for something but we didn’t know what.