Let the Dead Speak (Maeve Kerrigan #7)

‘Pull yourself together,’ he murmured so only I could hear it.

It wasn’t the done thing, to be emotional at a crime scene. Not unless it was a child. You could care about children. It was all right to cry about their innocent broken bodies. It was strange if you didn’t, in fact – a sign you’d burned out, that it was time to change jobs and do something other than homicide investigation. But it wasn’t all right to cry about young women who had struggled to find their way, who had been victims since the day they were born. I bent over, pain lancing through my stomach.

‘The fuck is wrong with you, Kerrigan.’ He stepped back, though, pulling me with him, standing in front of me so I was shielded from the other officers while I tried to control my breathing. I didn’t know whether I was going to cry or be sick for a few seconds. I didn’t know which would be worse.

‘I’m OK,’ I said at last, not looking at him.

‘Do we need to up your medication or something?’

I shook my head. ‘I thought we’d find her.’

‘We did.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Obviously.’ His voice was cold. ‘It’s not your job to mourn for her, Kerrigan. It’s your job to get the fucker who put her here.’

Another plane passed over, scoring the sky. It was shatteringly loud. I used it as an excuse to walk away. You couldn’t expect Derwent to understand an emotional connection with a victim; I didn’t know why I had thought he would.

The pathologist was finishing, writing some notes. I waited at Dr Early’s elbow until she looked up and her narrow face softened to a smile.

‘I didn’t know this was one of your cases, Maeve. It’s a long way off your usual patch.’

‘It’s connected to another case.’ I couldn’t make myself smile back, and the pathologist’s grin faded. ‘I know you won’t have any firm answers yet, but can you tell me when she died?’

‘Not with any degree of accuracy.’ Dr Early flipped back through her notes. ‘There’s no sign of decomp yet, so I don’t think she’s been here for long, but she could have been kept somewhere. There’s considerable post-mortem lividity on her back and legs. If I had to guess, I’d say she was in a confined space for some time after her death, curled up with her knees to her chest.’

‘A confined space. Like a car boot?’

‘Exactly.’

‘So she didn’t die here.’

‘I can’t tell you that yet for sure, but I would say not.’

‘How did she die?’

‘I can’t tell you that either but between us, my money is on drowning.’

‘Drowning?’ I shivered. ‘Could it have been an accident?’

‘She has bruising on her arms and shoulders. I would say not an accident. She was held down.’

‘Could one person have done it?’

‘Not if all the bruising was inflicted at the same time.’ Dr Early frowned at the body. ‘She didn’t fight much. It looks as if she was easy to subdue. I’ve taken scrapings from under her fingernails but I’d be surprised to get anything from them.’

‘The water won’t help.’ Derwent, who was watching my face.

‘That’s right,’ Dr Early said. ‘Being in the water will have washed a lot of evidence away. But she had quite long nails and none of them are broken. I’d have expected her to snap one or two if she was fighting for her life.’

‘Maybe she went along with it,’ I said. ‘She was biddable. She’d been brought up to do what she was told.’

‘I’m wondering about her level of intoxication. Fighting is instinctive when you’re threatened. Mainly people don’t fight back because they can’t. I’ve sampled the fluid in her eyeball to see if she was drugged or drunk.’

Derwent winced. ‘Jesus. You couldn’t just take some blood?’

‘The vitreous humour is more stable.’ Dr Early gave him a savage smile.

‘Was she sexually assaulted?’ I asked.

‘I haven’t observed any damage. I’ve taken swabs, of course.’ Dr Early glanced back at where Chloe lay. ‘I’ll know more after the post-mortem. I’ll do that tomorrow. Come along if you like.’

I absolutely did not want to see Chloe Emery’s body peeled apart, no matter how scientific and professional the process might be.

‘We’ll be there,’ Derwent said, and I caught the emphasis. Don’t think you’re going to skip out on this one, Kerrigan.

‘They’re going to move the body now.’ Dr Early glanced at me. ‘Do you want to get a closer look before they take her away?’

I felt I had to. I felt I owed it to her, and to her mother, and her father who was waiting for a phone call that would never come.

I stepped carefully on the mats the forensic team had laid down so my boots didn’t tear up the soft mud, and looked down at Chloe, at her face. Mainly the dead bodies I saw belonged to strangers, people I’d never seen moving and talking and smiling. People whose lives had ended before I ever knew they existed. I never got used to seeing the utter absence that was death. The spirit that had made Chloe what she was had departed. It was why I couldn’t reject the religion that ran through the tapestry of my childhood like a gold thread, even if it was fashionable to forget it, even if I didn’t always agree with the specifics. There was a comfort and a certainty to it, a calm acceptance that life went on after the body faltered and fell. I stood by Chloe Emery’s body and I prayed for her soul.

Later that day – much later – I stood outside Oliver Norris’s house again. This time I had Georgia with me. It was Una Burt’s idea. I knew Derwent had kicked off about it and I knew he had got nowhere. It was hard for me to mind when Burt had said, in no uncertain terms, that Georgia and I didn’t need protecting from anyone. That was the message I had wanted him to absorb for years, after all.

And now I was at the house, ringing the doorbell. Eleanor came to open the door. When she saw me, she faltered.

‘What is it?’

‘Where’s Bethany? Still in bed?’

‘Yes.’

‘Has she said anything yet?’

‘No.’

‘I need to talk to her.’

Eleanor shook her head. ‘You can’t. She needs to rest.’

The kitchen door opened and Gareth Selhurst came into the hall, his face grave. ‘Are you all right, Eleanor?’

‘Yes, but they want to talk to Bethany.’ She was holding on to her elbows, her fingers digging into her arms.

‘I hope you explained it’s impossible.’

‘Of course.’

‘It’s not impossible,’ I said, losing patience finally. ‘It’s an essential part of a murder investigation.’

Selhurst came forward, pushing Eleanor behind him. ‘You must understand that our only wish is to help.’

‘In that case, move out of my way and let me speak to Bethany.’

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