Dark Truths Page 2

  ‘Any sign of the victim’s phone?’

  ‘Her mother has it. She tried to ring her this morning, got voicemail, then found it where Zoe left it the previous evening when she visited. According to her, Zoe runs here once a week.’ She laid her latex-covered hand on the car. ‘And she owns a red VW with the same licence plate details as this one. I’m confident that the remains are hers. A low-loader is on its way to transport the car to headquarters for examination.’ She pointed at what was lying on the ground. ‘Come closer.’ They did, Watts picking up Judd’s quick intake of breath as they looked down at red fading to rust, a pale green pathology sheet covering the body from the shoulders up. Chong pointed to the blood-covered area below the sheet. ‘Six stab wounds to the torso, each of them deep into the chest. See the marks on the vest around each of them? The weapon used had a hilt. The blood on the ground below the driver’s door is a likely indication of where the attack began.’

  ‘Any sign of the weapon?’

  ‘Not according to SOCOs.’

  Watts’ eyes were fixed on her. ‘Something else I should know?’

  Chong gave him the look she generally used when he pushed. ‘You’ll have to wait. Right now, I want her out of this heat and back to headquarters so I can start her post.’

  He looked down at the body again, then back to Chong. ‘At least we’ve got an early cause of death.’ He looked to Judd. ‘That can be a big help in a homicide.’

  ‘That would depend on whether the stab wounds killed her,’ murmured Chong.

  He looked back at her. ‘Six, straight into the chest? Where’s the mystery?’

  ‘As I said, you need to wait.’ She lowered her voice further. ‘Unless you can find PC Judd something to do elsewhere?’

  Judd looked from her to Watts. ‘Hang on! Brophy has assigned me to this investigation. Which means I’m party to the crime scene and all the information pertaining to it. If we’re talking head injuries here, I’m already very familiar with a wide range.’ She itemized them on her fingers, her face flushed. ‘I’ve attended RTAs, seen the results of domestic beatings, plus a jumper from a multi-storey. I don’t want special consideration. I don’t need it.’

  Getting a nod from Watts, Chong turned to the body, knelt, reached for the green sheet and gently lifted it away. His mouth twisted downwards, eyes narrowing against a mess of cut flesh, white bone and protruding pasta-pale ligaments. His morning toast gave his diaphragm a swift nudge. Swallowing, he picked up Chong’s words.

  ‘Not the neatest decapitation, I have to say.’

  Hearing a soft sigh and feeling a sudden weight against his side, he caught Judd as she slumped. Lowering her to the ground, he looked a question at Chong.

  She shook her head. ‘SOCOs and forensic officers have done a search of her car, plus the immediate area beneath. It isn’t here. Ask them about the blood spots they’ve found.’

  He stared at her. ‘You’re saying it’s gone? He took it?’

  ‘In the absence of an alternative explanation, yes.’ She replaced the sheet. Igor, her assistant, came inside the tent carrying a folded stretcher, a constable in tow.

  Watts moved aside, crouched next to Judd, still lying on the ground.

  ‘How’s she doing?’ asked Chong.

  He tapped Judd’s cheek. She gazed up at him, eyes drifting. ‘Sleeping on the job, already, Judd?’

  She batted away his hand. ‘Fine. I’m … fine.’ Moving on to her side, she paused, got to her feet and stood, wavering. Watts held out his arm. She hesitated, reached for it.

  He tracked an officer leaving the tent and heading towards the line of close-parked vehicles. ‘Where’s he going?’

  ‘Headquarters,’ said Chong.

  ‘He can take Judd back with him—’

  ‘No.’ Judd pushed away from him, took a couple of shaky breaths, started dusting off her uniform trousers. ‘What’s next? What do we do?’

  Giving her a quick once-over, he headed outside. She followed him to two officers, the backs of their navy jumpsuits inscribed ‘Forensic Services’ in large white letters. They turned.

  ‘Morning, Sarge. Nice day for it,’ said one.

  Watts grunted. ‘I hear you’ve got some blood.’ He followed one of them a few metres to a small yellow marker.

  He pointed. ‘See? There and … there. Blood droplets.’ His finger moved on. ‘They continue to the trail over there, along the tarmac, then divert to the field on the right beyond the hedge.’

  As the officers moved away, Chong emerged, hood pushed back, her short black hair damp to her head. Sipping water from a plastic cup, she came over to Watts. ‘I’ve had a look at those droplets,’ she murmured. ‘I’m no blood pattern expert but I’ve seen it in enough contexts to have an opinion, for what it’s worth.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘He carried it by the hair.’

  Judd at his side, Watts walked the tarmac, following yellow markers, eyes fixed on dry-looking splotches. Had some madman been hanging around here early this morning, done what they’d just seen inside the tent? He shook his head. A few years back, it wouldn’t have been a question. More, an assumption. But that was before he’d been put in charge of headquarters’ Unsolved Crime Unit and learned a thing or two about psychology and madness. That it was rarely the simple explanation for extreme violence he and a lot of others expected or wanted it to be. They continued on to where several white-suited SOCOs were methodically searching the ground running alongside the tarmac. Seeing Watts, one of them pointed at the hedge to the right. ‘See that gap there, Sarge? That’s where he forced his way through and into the field. The blood stops just inside.’ They carried on to the thick hedge.

  Judd looked as though she’d recovered, her head turning this way and that. ‘This is crazy.’

  Watts glanced at her. Her colour was back. She was looking vexed.

  ‘No way would I run here.’

  ‘What’s your problem with it?’

  She jabbed her finger. ‘Too many trees. Too many places where somebody might hide. Plus, it’s got a feel to it, an atmosphere I don’t like.’

  His eyes moved over their surroundings which in normal circumstances he might have judged pleasant. If you liked that rural kind of thing. Which he didn’t. ‘I’ve checked. This is a popular place for runners and walkers.’

  Judd looked dismissive. ‘They’re welcome to it. I run on the roads where I live. Plenty of people around.’

  ‘You take your chance with traffic fumes and being run over. As for atmosphere, I didn’t have you down as the fanciful type.’

  ‘I’m not. It looks all right, but it feels … desolate.’

  Watts glanced around at wild flowers and vegetation lining the trail, much of it now dried by the recent weeks of unflagging sun. ‘I see what you’re getting at.’ He didn’t but a bit of agreement this early never went amiss. She wasn’t finished.

  ‘I’m a realist. In any physical confrontation with males, most females come off worst. I do martial arts.’

  He looked down at her. She was no bigger than Chong. He thought she had a point. He went through the hedge, holding back thorny branches. She followed him into the field, more a meadow, of tall bleached-looking grass mixed with wild flowers, poppies bowing their heads.

  She pointed to two tall yellow flags. ‘How did they find blood evidence here?’

  ‘People who go into forensics have an obsession for detail. Probably the same for all police work.’ The sun bearing down on them, they headed in the direction of several officers on hands and knees, shoulder-to-shoulder, eyes downcast, moving slowly across a cordoned-off section of field. ‘How’s it going?’ he called.

  He got a shouted response. ‘We’re doing a whole-field search, quadrant by quadrant, starting this side. Zero blood in this area so far and no weapon.’

  Watts and Judd continued on. ‘This is looking better than I expected,’ he said. ‘Yes, it’s a big area, but it’s a contained scene, plus, these specialis
t officers know their stuff. Best of all, the public is excluded so …’ He turned to her, seeing himself reflected in large, mirrored sunglasses. ‘What do you think this is, C.S.I.? I want to see that you’re absorbing all of this. Take ’em off!’ Hot and irritated, he walked on. He thought about the victim and her early morning run. What he needed was another live-for-ever type who’d been here early this morning and had seen or heard something. His first job back at headquarters would be to get Brophy to sanction a witness appeal. Recalling Brophy’s opinion of Judd, he asked, ‘Got any ideas on this homicide?’

  ‘Yes, Sarge.’

  ‘Thought you might. Let’s have ’em.’

  She pointed back the way they’d come. ‘Whoever killed her forced his way through that hedge, carrying … it, which means he’s strong but also very confident. Which tells me he knows this area well. I think we should pull in all the locals with form for sexual violence, starting with those out on licence or are known to have a connection to this particular area.’

  ‘Do you now,’ he murmured. What she’d said about this being a sexually motivated homicide chimed with his own thinking so far, but that was all. He pointed at the scene around them. ‘What you just said about him knowing the area. Take a look.’

  She did.

  ‘Whoever killed Zoe Roberts wouldn’t necessarily have needed local knowledge. This is typical countryside. See? Right of way from the car park to an exit at its other end. Hedges both sides, plus fields. If he’s as familiar with it as you say, he’d know that Blackfoot Trail is a public path. That somebody might come along it at any minute.’

  She nodded. ‘Exactly. Like I said, confident.’

  He walked on. ‘There’s something more urgent to do before we get into stuff like that. A visit to Zoe Roberts’ family.’ Sensing that he was walking alone, he turned. Judd was standing, arms folded, her face set. He frowned. ‘What’s up with you?’

  ‘I just got it. The reason I’m here at all. To do the emotional stuff. The stuff I’ve been doing since I finished training and arrived at headquarters. Commiserating. Supporting. Being understanding and sympathetic to people in trouble.’ She flushed. ‘I’m bored of it! That isn’t what I joined the force to do.’

  He started towards her, his eyes fixed on hers. ‘Now, you listen to me. I’ve got thirty-plus years on the Job and I’ve got no problem “commiserating” where needed. You think you’re special, Judd? That that aspect of the job doesn’t apply to you?’

  ‘No, I don’t, but—’

  ‘I’m glad we got that sorted. If that’s all that’s aggravating you, forget it. Zoe Roberts’ family already has a liaison officer. Our purpose in seeing them is to get information about their daughter which just might tell us why she ended up here in the state we’ve just seen.’ He stared down at her closed face. ‘Keep your complaints and dissatisfactions to yourself while we work this case. I don’t want to hear them and I don’t want you following me about with prima donna antics. Got it?’

  Her eyes were fixed on the ground between them. ‘Sir.’

  He frowned at her. ‘You’ve got a lot to learn, Judd, and the way you do that is by working alongside other officers and not being an opinionated pain in the … You keep your mouth shut. You watch. You listen. You take in all you can from colleagues who’ve got years of experience doing this kind of work, most dating back to before you started infants’ school.’ He paused. He’d learned plenty about her in the last hour or so. She was full of attitude. Something else he knew about her. She wasn’t what he wanted on this investigation. Or any other for that matter. He looked down at the set young face beneath the short blonde spikes. ‘Any more ideas about this case?’

  ‘Only what I’ve said. That there has to be a sex angle.’

  ‘Because?’

  ‘Lone woman, vest, shorts. It’s obvious.’

  ‘You don’t say? What would you expect her to wear for a run in this weather? A greatcoat?’

  She frowned up at him. ‘A what?’ She shook her head, impatient. ‘I’m pulling all the relevant factors together as I see them: the surroundings, her physical presentation, what was done to her. You can bet your pension the pathologist will confirm it’s sexually motivated. Zoe Roberts’ killer was waiting here early this morning for her to start her run. He saw her as easy prey. It’s very likely he stalked her.’

  He walked on. ‘All of which gets you a gold star for conclusion-jumping.’ If he’d had similar thoughts about the victim’s physical appearance, he’d have thought twice about saying so and risk a huffy response about females’ rights to go wherever they want, whenever they want, however they want. He didn’t need that kind of politically correct palaver. But she’d gone straight to it and never mind anybody else’s opinions. ‘For somebody of your years, Judd, you sound like you’ve got a low opinion of males. Anything else?’

  ‘Yes. A suspect age range of twenty-five to forty.’

  ‘Which lets me and a few others working this case off the hook.’ He raised his head, picking up the hum of steady traffic. ‘Hear that?’ He looked around. ‘Where’s it coming from?’

  She listened, pointed ahead. ‘See that steep incline over there? I reckon the M42 is on the other side of it.’

  He looked to where she was pointing, saw Adam Jenner, head of forensics, a few yards ahead of them, in conversation with a lanky thirtyish male Watts recognized from a cold case investigation twelve or so months before: Jake Petrie, geoscientist from the University of Birmingham. He headed for them, Judd following. ‘Jake’s giving us a hand again,’ said Adam, pointing to the small drone sitting on the grass nearby.

  Petrie held out his laptop to Watts. ‘I’ve got some good aerial shots of the immediate area for you, DI Watts. Take a look.’ Watts did, seeing the field they were in, the snaking black tarmac of the trail, a few distant houses on its other side. He passed the laptop back to Petrie, his attention caught by several SOCOs working the field’s perimeter. Adam looked in the same direction, eyes narrowed against brightness. ‘They’re searching for the weapon. It’s taking them a while because of the vegetation.’

  Watts looked around. ‘It looks like it’s running wild.’

  ‘The landowner says he’s paid to leave the margins around the fields to wildlife, and the same for the rest of this field, which he’s happy to do, given the way it rises on either side.’ Adam pulled out his phone, studied the screen. ‘Text from Dr Chong confirming that wedding and engagement rings on the deceased’s finger match the mother’s description of those worn by daughter Zoe Roberts.’

  Judd sent Watts a look of suppressed excitement. ‘No indication of robbery, Sarge. Like I said, this is sex.’

  Watts glanced at Adam, stone-faced. ‘PC Judd is bringing her extensive homicide experience to this investigation. She’ll have it wrapped up for us by lunchtime.’

  She flushed. ‘I’m only saying—’

  ‘And we only heard.’ He pointed at the steep rise directly ahead. ‘Judd thinks the M42 is on the other side of that.’

  Adam looked across at it. ‘She’s right. It is.’

  Watts headed towards it. ‘I want to have a look, pinpoint exactly where we are in relation to the motorway.’

  Judd was at his heels again. ‘Sarge, how about this: he came off the motorway, looking for a victim. Question: if he was in his own vehicle, where did he leave it? Second question: why didn’t he take her body with him? Answer: he didn’t think he needed to. Why? Because he’s not aware of Exchange Theory. I’m talking all forensics here, not just the obvious, like DNA. That lack of awareness is telling me that this is his first homicide.’

  Watts stopped, turned to her, his face flushed. ‘I get that you’re keen, but I can do without your rattle and your questions, to which none of us has answers right now. We’re in the “let’s-have-a-look” stage, so let’s have a look.’ Mouth set, she followed him to the foot of the incline where he paused, listened to traffic noise. It was louder now. If there was a junction close by,
one of the first things he would be wanting was a check of motorway CCTV for vehicles passing here early this morning. Make that during the whole of the previous night …

  ‘Sarge?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Dr Chong said that Roberts ran here every week.’

  Watts trudged on, the ground ahead of them getting steeper. ‘So?’

  ‘Just hear me out. Like I said, this probably started as a stalking case, her killer waiting, watching her run, getting to know her routine, getting to know her. How about I go and ask Dr Chong about the condition of Roberts’ fingernails? If they’re damaged, the odds are he’s a total stranger. That she fought him. If it’s a no, we need to consider that she knew her killer, which actually fits with her jewellery not being robbed because …’ She stopped, eyeing Watts.

  ‘Have you got a hearing problem, or just one with listening? It’s already topping eighty degrees, you’re not the only one with a head full of questions and no answers and …’ He was about to add that he wouldn’t see fifty again, but he didn’t hand out ammunition like that to anybody, not even a rookie like her. ‘Leave Dr Chong to do her job while we do ours.’ He pointed upwards. ‘Stop rattling and come on.’

  They walked the steep incline in silence, traffic noise increasing as they went, bone-dry earth shifting under their feet. After a couple of minutes Watts stopped, perspiration coursing down his face. Judd passed him effortlessly, continued on. Frowning after her, he followed, reached the top of the incline and stood next to her. They gazed down at dusty saplings, a low retaining wall, a metal barrier and three lanes of roaring, surging traffic, pumping out a miasma of fumes. A glance across the motorway to an area of vast, numbered buildings opposite told Watts their exact location: The National Exhibition Centre. Chong would be starting Roberts’ post-mortem in the next few hours. If they got really lucky, there might be a quick resolution from DNA identification. Which would go some way to easing her family’s heartache and Judd would be back to her domestics and whatever else she didn’t like.

  He reached out, grasped a slender tree limb and leant to look further along the motorway, seeing an arrowed sign, another some way off for an upcoming exit. Straightening, Watts nudged Judd, pointing the way they’d come. He moved downwards with cautious steps, his feet sliding over powder-dry earth and meagre grass. A third of the way down his spirits rose: a quick wrap-up of this case was exactly what he needed. A signal to the brass that he had what it took to direct a big, current case and … His feet lost all traction. Arms flailing, he over-corrected, dislodging more loose earth. Briefly airborne, he hit the ground on his back, arms flung wide. He lay, winded, looking up at a sagging canopy of leaves, time sliding away. Hearing feet rushing towards him, he tried to sit up. ‘No, Sarge, don’t move! Stay still.’