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February 20 - February 26, 2016
The pavement glittered in the moonlight as Andrea Douglas-Brown hurried up the deserted high street.
Lee Kinney emerged from the small end-terrace house where he still lived with his mother,
Erika Foster had been waiting for half an hour in the grubby reception area of Lewisham Row Police Station.
‘Yeah, she has a younger brother, David, and an older sister, Linda.’
‘I’m Isaac Strong, forensic pathologist,’ he said. ‘I know Moss and Peterson,’
‘Her body was found frozen in the ice. At this early stage I’d hazard – and I repeat, hazard – that she’d been in the water for at least seventy-two hours.
‘Bloating of the face and ligature marks on the neck could indicate strangulation, and her right collar bone is broken,’
‘The wrists are lacerated, which could indicate her hands were tied, but her arms weren’t tied when she went into the water. There is also bruising to the back of the head and we found fragments of tooth enamel embedded in the front corner post of the jetty
Every time she closed her eyes she saw Andrea’s body, skin torn and bruised, blank eyes wide open.
The snow started to fall more heavily, and the wind whistled through the buildings. Erika pulled her coat around her against the freezing cold. She couldn’t shake off the feeling she was being watched.
It was easier to force the dream to the back of her mind, now that she had a problem to solve.
‘And I don’t think he knew her at all,’ said Moss. ‘Or, she only let him know what she wanted him to know,’
‘Andrea was a beautiful girl. But not only that, she lit up a room when she walked in. She was beautiful, and vulnerable and . . . and . . . a light has gone out in our lives.’
Erika had never quite mastered how to talk to children. Rapists and murderers she could deal with, but children she found a little intimidating.
Several houses down from Erika’s flat, tucked in a crease where the road curved sharply, a figure crouched at the end of an alleyway, clad head-to-toe in black, blending in with the darkness.
I’d taken Andrea’s shit for so long, but I never expected I’d do it. Live out the fantasy of strangling her, choking the life from her body .
As the days had passed, the figure had grown confident, cocky almost, that Andrea’s body wouldn’t be found. That she would remain frozen under the ice. Winter would pass, and with the warmth of spring she would rot down – rot down until her mask of beauty was gone and she looked more like who she really was.
Her gut was telling her she was on to something
Even if her two witnesses had been unreliable, was it likely that they would be unreliable in exactly the same way?
My car is a few blocks away, but I can’t go back for it yet. Not yet. When it gets light. When I’m clean.
Above it was written in red marker pen: YOU’RE JUST LIKE ME, DCI FOSTER. WE’VE BOTH KILLED FIVE.
‘He based one of his forensic psychologists on me. Then killed the character off when our relationship ended.’
She had cried enough tears to last a lifetime. Now it was time for action.
‘Behind every powerful man is a woman who knows how to push his buttons.
‘I can’t do this without you. Life . . . Everything . . .’ she said. Then, in her head, she heard what Mark used to say when he thought she was being over-dramatic: Get off the cross, someone needs the wood! She laughed, despite her tears, saying, ‘I need to get a grip, don’t I?’
It was a story that needed no prompting or staging. A girl had died, far too young, and people were here to grieve. Of course, this wasn’t the final chapter.
‘When I am gone, release me, let me go. I have so many things to see and do, You mustn't tie yourself to me with too many tears, But be thankful we had so many good years. I gave you my love, and you can only guess How much you've given me in happiness. I thank you for the love that you have shown, But now it is time I travelled on alone. So grieve for me a while, if grieve you must, Then let your grief be comforted by trust. It is only for a while that we must part, So treasure the memories within your heart. I won't be far away for life goes on. And if you need me, call and I will come.
...more
‘Go on, Ivy. Now you are free to fly,’ said Erika, excitedly. ‘I think I’ve just found the bastard who did this to you.’
She was going to die, she knew it.
She didn’t see anything, she couldn’t have. I had my face covered. I had my face covered . . . The fear was replaced with anger. She denied me the kill.
Why had he been taken, when she was spared?
‘SIO means Senior Investigating Officer. The “senior” part doesn’t mean you’re older then everyone and entitled to bully them when the shit hits the fan. It means you take responsibility for your fuck-ups.’
‘Of course, a woman is confident of her opinion and she’s schoolmarmish,’
‘Another complex twist in the murder of Andrea Douglas-Brown,’
‘It doesn’t get any easier, does it, boss? Seeing a dead body,’ he said. ‘No, it doesn’t,’ said Erika.
And if Igor Kucerov had a record, it’s been wiped. There’s nothing for him, or for a George Mitchell, in the database.’
Then she sensed movement and a shadow behind her. A hand closed over hers, ripping the phone from her grasp.
Fear is more powerful than love.
To remain calm. To survive.
There’s so much bad stuff out there that the only way I think I can cope with it all is to keep working. To try and make some kind of difference to the world.’
