Chapter 3
Three
The piece of waste ground Keats had described lay behind the fish and chip shop on Balds Lane, famed for its orange chips. The cordon was just beyond the entrance and was holding back crowds of people who’d likely got distracted from collecting their Sunday night supper.
Kim pushed her way through, holding up her ID to the two officers keeping order.
She could hear the words rape, beaten, butchered being passed around the onlookers.
It wasn’t the speculation that surprised her.
In the absence of facts, people made up their own.
What galled her was the excitement and anticipation that the words had been dipped in first. Whoever the victim was, they were someone to someone.
But none of them were thinking about that.
A part of her wanted to go up to the worst offenders, the most vocal spectators, and shout ‘It’s your sister’ or ‘It’s your daughter’. Would the excitement level still be as high if she dragged one of them over to see a real life crime scene?
‘Not worth it, guv,’ Bryant said, as if reading her thoughts, and he was right.
It didn’t matter how many crime scenes she attended, the macabre joy at the suffering of others was always sure to get under her skin. To the spectators, it was a story to tell at work tomorrow, but to someone else it was going to be the worst day of their life.
She could still feel the disgust resting on her face as Keats headed towards her.
‘Looking very dapper this evening, if I might say so.’
‘I’m only wearing—’
‘I was talking to your colleague,’ he said, looking Bryant up and down. ‘New suit?’
Kim glanced at her colleague as Bryant nodded. In all honesty, she hadn’t noticed. Why on earth had he bought a new suit for the occasion?
‘As if I’d even bother asking you,’ Keats continued. ‘You’ve been wearing the same black jeans and leather jacket since the day I met you.’
‘Well, not the same…’
‘I know that. And now you mention it, you do look a bit spruced up.’ He took another look at Bryant. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, did you two have a thing tonight?’ he asked, knowing full well what night it was.
‘Nothing that couldn’t be interrupted,’ she said. ‘Now, what have we got? I’m sure you didn’t call us out to discuss Bryant’s tailor.’
Over the years, Keats had developed the annoying habit of simply barking a location at her before hanging up.
She’d recently challenged him on this, and he’d replied that it was a dead body that hadn’t got that way on its own and what more did she need to know?
He was right, to be fair, but a little more detail wouldn’t go amiss.
‘Victim is female, early to mid-thirties,’ he said, walking towards a semi-circle of high-vis jackets.
‘Any ID?’ Kim asked.
‘Not touched anything yet,’ he said, nodding towards Mitch, who was still taking photos.
The forensic techie nodded at her before continuing.
The uniformed officers began to move away, but Kim was careful not to get any closer, remaining a good three metres away from the body.
The woman did indeed appear to fit the age range Keats had given.
A handbag and a small sports bag were lying within a metre of her body.
Her hair was dark brown and tied in a ponytail. Her pretty face was devoid of make-up, her skin was smooth with that ‘just washed’ look. She wore no jewellery except for a single wedding band and a sports watch.
That plus the sports bag and her leisure wear made it a pretty good guess that she was heading home after a sporting activity.
Kim allowed her gaze to travel down to the single stab wound to the chest.
There were visible defence wounds on the hands and tears in the sleeves of her fleece. She had put up a fight, but one well-placed strike had ended the battle quickly.
The blood from the fatal wound had pooled to the left of her body, flowing quickly and staining the ground as it moved.
Kim glanced at the edge of the pool and frowned, but she put the thought aside while Mitch took the last of his photos.
Over the years, she’d attended every type of crime.
Torturous scenes where the victim had been made to suffer for hours.
Frenzied encounters where emotion and erratic thinking had led to multiple wounds.
Crime scenes made to look like accidents.
Murders staged to mimic suicide. This didn’t fit into any of these categories.
This kill was what she called functional.
The cause of death told her a lot less than the manner of death.
This wasn’t a spurned lover or a rage-filled enemy.
There was no fanfare. There were no messages, no game playing, not even an obvious emotional connection.
Their killer had decided this person had to die, and it was no more complicated than that.
The question that would steer the course of this investigation was why?
‘Okay, you’re good to go,’ Mitch said, stepping away.
Kim was careful to avoid the blood puddle as she took gloves from Bryant and headed for the handbag.
Bryant did the same sidestep around the blood and picked up the sports bag.
She unzipped the handbag and reached inside for the purse. The driver’s licence told her everything she needed to know. The victim’s name was Ashley Reynolds, thirty-four years old, and she lived less than a mile from where they were standing.
‘Just the man,’ she said as Inspector Plant approached.
His brow furrowed as he got closer. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be at Tally Ho getting a—?’
‘Our victim,’ she said, cutting him off and handing him the driving licence.
‘Thanks – always get the good jobs,’ he sighed.
Most police officers she knew would choose to walk into an armed robbery before informing a next of kin about an unexpected and violent death.
‘How much detail?’ he asked.
‘Bare minimum,’ she said, although Planty knew what he was doing. He would divulge very little to anyone until they had a better idea of what they were dealing with. ‘And get a liaison on the way.’
‘Will do. You’ll be along first thing in the morning?’ he asked.
She nodded.
‘Guv?’ Bryant said as Planty headed back towards his car. He held up two garments from the sports bag. It was a matching vest and skirt. On the rear of the vest were the letters GS.
‘Netball,’ Kim said. ‘It stands for goal shooter. Anything else?’
‘A towel, trainers and a water flask.’
She nodded towards Mitch, indicating Bryant should let the techie have it for further examination.
He handed it over and came to stand beside her.
‘Random killing or robbery gone wrong?’ he asked.
‘Neither,’ she stated, taking another look at the body. ‘No evidence of a fight over her possessions. There was nothing random about this attack. She was killed as she walked home from netball practice, something she most likely does each week. Our killer knew that and was waiting.’
‘And the murder weapon…?’
‘Won’t be here,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘This was well planned and executed. There was no drama or feverish emotion. He did what he came to do, and he’ll have taken the knife away with him.’
‘He?’ Bryant asked about her assumption they were dealing with a man. Right now, it could be either, but it was always the default noun in her mind until the evidence directed her otherwise.
She looked towards the road. A small factory estate with a parcel of wasteland either side.
‘No CCTV anywhere. I’m betting she came from the community centre and was sticking to the main road.
Fifty feet further along we’ve got a McDonald’s, a service station and around thirty residential properties stretching all the way to where she lived.
This is the only spot where he could have been unnoticed.
He was waiting here for her,’ she said, picturing the scene.
‘I’d say he grabbed her by the jacket. She tried to fight, but she would have been reeling from the shock.
There’s no sign of sexual assault so it wasn’t about that. ’
Bryant nodded his agreement.
‘Thing is, the stabbing wasn’t enough. He remained calm enough to stand there and watch her die. He had to see it happen.’
‘Guv, how can you possibly…?’
‘See there,’ she said, pointing to two semi-circle gaps in the pool of blood. ‘The blood should have continued flowing. It went either side and in between, but there was something in the middle to interrupt it.’
‘His shoes.’
‘And her blood had stopped flowing by the time he moved,’ she said.
Only one question mattered.
What had Ashley Reynolds done that someone thought she deserved this?