Two Wrongs

By Nathan Sayer

Text Copyright © 2014 Nathan Sayer

All Rights Reserved

Table of Contents

Contents

Two Wrongs

By Nathan Sayer

Text Copyright © 2014 Nathan Sayer

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 1

The crack of her skull was sickening and shocking. Bile rose up in his throat making him choke. As he struggled to control his breathing, his vision started to blur, making it hard to see the twitching body below him.

He dropped the weapon from his grasp and turned to check that no one had been watching. Through blurred vision he could just about make out his own car parked twenty metres away and not a lot else. He screwed his eyes tight trying to squeeze the moisture away so he could see what was going on. Using the back of his hand he smeared the tears from his eyes across his face and the insignificant breeze in the night air was magnified on the surface of his skin, cooling him just a little.

Turning back to the girl, he saw the last few flickers of life jerk from her body and was overwhelmed by the calmness that enveloped the scene. The plants were still and the drone of the nearby town was only slightly louder than the mosquitoes buzzing menacingly around his head. An accusing shrill from a nocturnal animal was the only significant noise. The air was thick and filled with the scent of freshly cut grass as it always seemed to be at this time of year. The smell always bought back memories from when he was a little boy; he used to play football with his friends at the sports field all day at the weekends and most evenings during the week too. They didn’t bother going home for any lunch, settling instead for an ice cold drink from the vending machine at the sports centre every couple of hours to keep their energy levels up. Back then, Peter the grounds man seemed to cut the grass all day-everyday on his mini tractor. Every year he had an ongoing battle with the persistent daisy growth that made for a summer long perfume of freshly cut grass.

Innocent memories were out of place right now. There was a dead girl lying at his feet and he had to act fast because although he was isolated from the main road and there wasn’t much traffic, it was entirely possible that someone could drive into the spot where he was. He looked down at the girl and for the first time he studied her lifeless body. She had taken up the recovery position, not that it would do her any good. Her hair had splayed across her face and he used a finger to pull it out of the way, tucking it gently behind her ear. If you ignored the sticky blood that had run down the back and side of her head she was pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way but he hadn’t liked the way she had talked. Her foul mouth and prick tease demeanor had led to this. The guilt he felt was for her family and not so much for her.

His breathing was steady and the initial adrenaline rush had subsided. All he felt was a complete sense of nothingness. He was surprised at his own composure but, the truth was, murder and pain had been part of his life for so long now that it was almost the norm.

Although this hadn’t been planned, it was up to him to stage this to his requirements. He needed to hide the girl well enough so that the first person to stumble into this area didn’t find her. At some point he wanted her to be found but not straight away. A girl who had been missing for a while was worthy of more press than just a murdered girl; there would be appeals in newspapers and TV for her safe return, stirring the public’s desire to know what had happened. If she had run away, had she gone by herself or with a secret lover? Had her home life been so unbearable that she couldn’t take it anymore, forcing her to run away? Had she been kidnapped and raped? Was she alive at all? Once they knew that she wasn’t, the finger pointing would start. Was it the boyfriend, father, uncle or just a sick and twisted individual?

He knew the area he was in reasonably well, certainly well enough to know the usual tracks where the dog walkers and the joggers would be using in the morning. He just hoped there were no night dwellers away from the well-used tracks. He rolled the girl onto her back before grabbing her underneath her shoulder blades with his right arm and under the back of her knees with his left. As he heaved her up he had to juggle her around a little bit to balance her weight. The scent of her perfume mixed with an undertone of sweat caught his senses and it reminded him that she was human. Had she chosen the perfume after trawling through tester after tester? Or was it a gift from someone who thought she would like it? Either way it was a personal aroma. He couldn’t help but think that her musky, sweet sweat was also personal and individual.

With a quick check behind him he set off down one of the tracks. The ground was dry and dusty and he found himself thinking about footprints. Lots of people used the area and he was sure that within a day all his tracks would have been disturbed, covering all the evidence that he had ever been here. Long grass and overhanging trees became more frequent the further he went. The moon was bright enough for him to stay on course and recognise where he was. He didn’t want to travel too far because it would increase the chances of somebody spotting him or his car.

After a couple of minutes of following the track he stepped away from it and headed across a small patch of grassland towards a large ring of trees. At its centre was a dry, hollow bowl, it must have been ten metres deep at its lowest point and approximately thirty metres in diameter. The banks were steep and at the bottom, through broken moonlight, he could make out scattered rubbish. He knew there was a worn pathway where kids had ridden bikes down one side and back up the other but he wanted to avoid leaving his footprints in the dirt. The embankment was carpeted with brambles, broken tree branches and even a shopping trolley. He picked a relatively clear area and started to side step down. About half way down he felt his trousers being tugged back by the thorns of a bramble bush and he lost his footing, his body lurching forward. He instinctively pushed the girl away from him, freeing his hands, so he could break his own fall. He dropped to his hands and one knee, the other leg out straight, anchored to the barbs of the bramble and at the same time being pulled taut by the weight of his body. He looked up to see the strobe effect of the girls limbs flailing through the moonlight that was penetrating the shadows of the tree branches as she rolled down the hill.

Trying to contain the loss of control he was feeling, he shuffled his body up the hill a little so he could release his clothing. The fuzzy feeling of nettle stings took over his hands and he had to fiddle around longer than he would have hoped for. Once he was standing he checked to see the girl was still there; she hadn’t been reincarnated and nobody had run off with her. Feeling stupid, he fluffed up the plants he had fallen on and slowly descended towards her. She was looking up at him, eyes wide open, and he thought that the reflecting stars and moon that came from them made her look more alive than ever. She had settled next to the fallen trunk of a tree, her left arm was underneath her and had bent awkwardly up against it. Her skin was grubby and her hair that had been done so immaculately for her night out, now resembled a thrown down mop head.

Scanning the area for her penultimate resting place he spotted an area of thick bush that he could tuck her under. The plants that had grown there looked as though they had finally lost their battle with gravity and after having reached for the sun had given in to their own weight and flopped down towards the base of the pit, looking like a crashing wave made from foliage. He grappled with her body once again, brushing his hand across her breasts as he did so and nearly apologising out loud for the invasion before realising he had done worse to her already; he had smashed the life from her body. Treading carefully, he stepped over to the area he had chosen, trying hard to keep his footfalls to areas where he wouldn’t leave a good print. He was no forensic scientist but he knew better than most that you didn’t need to be a mastermind to get away with murder.

He laid her down so that her body was in line with the small opening that was created by the plants arcing over. He straightened his stiffening back before stepping over her body with one foot so that he was straddling her, then he bent over and lifted her at the waist just a little before trying to shunt her in. Her arms and legs dragged but her head was forced to one side as her flimsy neck gave way to the motion. Once he had got her so far he had to use her upper legs as a picking up point and when he could reach no further, he tried pushing on the soles of her feet but her knees wouldn’t stay ridged. It left him with the option of crawling in from the other side and dragging her in by her shoulders, which he reluctantly did.

Satisfied with his efforts so far, he set off back to his car. Not to leave but to get something. Now he was doing this he may as well do it properly. The night sky had darkened a little, making it difficult to track back the exact way he had come but he knew the general direction and the furthest he went astray was going down the right hand side of one of the sporadic bushes when he should have gone left. It didn’t matter too much as the tracks all intertwined with one another but generally led to the same place. He saw the back of his car slightly lit up.

Slightly lit up?

“Shit!” He stepped behind a bush and crouched down, trying to see where the source of light was coming from. The front of his car was facing towards the town and he knew that the road leading away from the back of it had no streetlights and no houses for at least a mile. It had to be a car but he couldn’t hear it. He shuffled from one hiding place to another trying to improve his scope of the parking area but he still couldn’t see it. Then he heard a voice. From in the distance, he thought he heard something like “Try it now.” A second later he heard a car engine coughing and spluttering before it sparked into life. After much revving, and loud cheers of triumph, he watched headlights rush past to complete their journey. Relieved, he jogged to his car and opened the boot. He couldn’t see what he wanted and yet he was sure it had been there. He flicked stuff around hoping to discover it but to no avail. Without what he was looking for his plan was useless. It was the link to all those years ago. One of the reasons he needed the body found. It was a calling card of sorts, if the police were intelligent enough to recognise it.

It was here somewhere. It just had to be. He shut the boot and went to the rear passenger seats. Not there either. Then the cloud that had been dulling the moonlight seemed to just evaporate, and there, peaking from underneath the driver’s seat he spotted it. He snatched at it, closed the car door and set off for the girl again.

He had one more thing to do.

Chapter 2

“I won’t!” Detective Inspector Ross Reed shouted at his wife, knowing instantly he had overreacted.

He was still shaking his right foot, trying to ease the pain from his little toe, having just stubbed it on the bottom of the banister frame while he was on his way to the bedroom from the bathroom to get dressed. It was a journey he really should have mastered by now, having lived there for five years. All his wife, Kate, had asked of him was to try and not forget to put the green bin out when he left for work. A simple request that prompted him to bite her head off.

Rubbing at his throbbing toe, he was sure a banister was supposed to have a purpose, but surely any half decent sized adult that was falling, looking for it to save them from the perils below would be very disappointed. It was there for decoration purposes and such was the design; it fooled the subconscious mind that you could pass it without too much trouble. In truth, the hand carved spindles were just short of the true width that lay at the bottom. There were big square blocks of pine wood holding each spindle in place making each one look like some sort of miniature monument, imitating concrete blocks, which is exactly what they felt like to his passing toe.

Even without the throbbing consequences of the banister, he felt his reply would have been just as sharp. Work was consuming the majority of his day and sleep had been hard to come by. The stress of having been put in charge of his first big investigation at the age of 37 was starting to take its toll. He wasn’t exactly wet behind the ears, he had worked most variations of crime, but when the buck stops with you, doubts start to creep in with every decision, especially when someone’s life depends on it.  There was a procedure for most of the work the police carried out but he still worried that he had missed something.

A girl had gone missing and it was up to him to find her. His attempts over the last couple of days had turned up nothing. He was tired, self-doubting and when he did finally come in through the front door, usually late at night, he carried his work with him; his laptop and case notes seeming every bit as heavy as the burden he was feeling.

As he heard the door slam shut he wished he had apologised to his wife before she had left the house to take Evie to school and he suddenly realised his daughter had not even bothered to shout goodbye. Kate had accepted the magnitude of the last few days with more ease than he had. Despite the fact that his absence from home had been a thorn in their entire relationship, she hadn’t mentioned it once. In fact, she had fetched him food and drinks at regular intervals and he had heard her encourage Evie ‘not to pester Dad’ on more than one occasion. Although she had meant well this had made him feel twice as bad and his heart sank at the thought that his own daughter felt that a simple goodbye would have been a nuisance to her father.

He made his way down the stairs feeling the soft new carpet under his feet. It had recently been fitted, although he couldn’t remember picking it or having any knowledge of its impending arrival. Yet when he had come home one night, stopping in the hallway looking down at the beige colour and wondering if he had entered the wrong house, Kate had shouted from the kitchen “It looks good, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it matches the walls well. Good choice.” He replied, trying to hide his confusion.

Whilst gathering up the various files he’d bought home last night, the 24 hour news channel stole his attention, reporting that Carmella Chapman was still missing. The press had been speculating as to what had happened to her. She could have run away, been murdered, kidnapped, raped or a mixture of them all. In truth the media knew exactly what the police knew, which was next to nothing.

Three nights ago she had been out with friends at a Newmarket nightclub called Splitz. She had been given a lift home from someone she knew, Lee Gulliver. He had dropped her off at the end of her road and she hadn’t been seen again. First thing this morning, Reed and his team were having a review of the case. They would recite the facts which they knew and then throw ideas and theories at one another hoping to speculate what had happened. All this had been done before but there was no harm in trying again until they had some real evidence to work with, maybe a sighting or perhaps someone would come forward and reveal a secret boyfriend or shady past.

As of yet, it appeared Carmella had no known enemies, no problems at school or at home; none that anybody knew of anyway. She was described as a happy girl with an active lifestyle, she played hockey and was captain of the netball team. Good, consistent grades at school and she had lots of friends. This was good in a sense that no-one they knew of would want to see her hurt, but the chances that she had run away were slim. That left the possibility that a stranger might have taken her or lured her away. People don’t tend to do that with good intentions. As the number of days went by, any hopes of finding her unharmed faded and the pressure built.

With a stack of files under one arm, he flicked the TV off, gulped down the remainder of his cold coffee, kicked Rupert the female cat out the back door, struggled to put his shoes on with one hand because he stubbornly refused to put the files down to make the task easier, and then finally stepped out of the front door. He checked off the items in his pockets: Phone, wallet and car keys. Good.

After walking gingerly down the gravel driveway, ducking the stringy branches of the willow tree, he unlocked the car door, got in and wrestled his items past the steering wheel and put them on the passenger seat. He made himself comfortable and then fastened his seat belt. Now he sat for a moment anticipating what was to come. He raised his hand to the ignition, inserting the key with more care than was needed and hoped that the car was going to start. Something was wrong with it but he hadn’t had the time to visit a garage to see what it might be.

He screwed up his face a little as he turned the key. It started first time.

He reversed from his drive and made his way into Watton faster than he should have done before his car could change its mind and start spluttering. Once he was through the town he could keep a decent speed up all the way to Hingham. With every passing mile, Reed felt his confidence grow in the performance of his vehicle. The Wicklewood bends provided a good final workout so that Reed finally started to enjoy the solitude of the journey. On a normal day he would have taken in the Norfolk countryside between the towns and villages with pleasure; the vast open crop fields, the sporadic trees that lined their edges, the hedgerows that ran alongside the roads, which if you stuck your arm out of the window were close enough to touch. He loved the glimpses of Scoulton Mere through the trees and every time he passed it he promised himself he was going to walk round it one day. Then, just as he entered Wymondham, it seemed that he’d reached that zone from the house when you suddenly remembered something.

“The bloody bin.” He had already traveled too far to turn back without setting his whole day behind schedule. He hoped the bin man would make the short journey down his drive to the visible wheelie bin and bail him out of trouble. How far was too far? 5 metres? 10? His whole driveway was only 25 metres long. If the bin man didn’t push the boundaries of duty and get it for him, he would have to empty it into bags and take a trip to the dump, eating away into the precious time he did have off. His apology to Kate had just got longer; not only had he bitten her head off this morning, he had forgotten the very thing she had asked him to do.

The car parking spaces at the police station were assigned to rank, the higher up the food chain you were the closer to the building you got. As a Detective Inspector, Reed got a pretty good spot, about three rows back from the main doors. As childish as it was, he got a little satisfaction from parking there. When he turned the ignition off the car coughed and spluttered as if not wanting to stop for fear of not starting again. Reed’s satisfaction with his parking space waned quickly as heads appeared at the office windows to see what the commotion was. Reed pretended that the offending noise was from somewhere else, making a big show of looking for the culprit himself as he locked up, then gave a dramatic shrug and started walking away.

As he walked through the automatic doors of the police station he knew no breaking news was forthcoming or somebody would have called him. He was leading the investigation after all, but unfortunately so far he hadn’t led it very far.

He made his way up the stairs to the CID department on the second floor. The building was big and glamorous; it was only 7 years old and was the envy of many a force throughout the country. Everything you could ever need was here, and Reed still wasn’t sure if he had entered all of the departments on the site.

He entered conference room 1E, where they were basing the investigation. Every available space was filled with tables, chairs, computers and people doing various jobs. On one wall was a huge whiteboard with details of the investigation so far; maps, names, pictures, sketches and important snippets of information from various people’s statements had been stuck all over it.

Reed’s superior, DCI Edward Whitehead, was sat at the main desk at the head of the room just in front of the whiteboard reading through some papers. Reed had his own office but he had a desk here, too. He slowly padded down the corridor that was created by all the other tables and said “Morning” to a few people, trying to take his time, hoping Whitehead would up and leave. He didn’t. Reed stood the opposite side to which Whitehead was sitting and waited. Whitehead looked up, looked back down at the papers in his hand, shook his head in disapproval at something and then left without saying a word.

Whitehead was a tall, frail looking man with a long, sharp pointed nose. He had short grey hair which was combed back on top. Reed always thought that Whitehead’s eyes looked too small for his head. He reminded Reed of a weasel, and an angry one at that. He moved away with an assured walk and Reed resisted the urge to stick his tongue out.

Whitehead had been transferred to Norfolk when the new police headquarters had opened. He was headhunted from the Metropolitan Police in London where he had been in the force since he was 20 years old and now had thirty eight years’ experience behind him. He had been a Detective Chief Inspector for eleven of those.

He must have experienced every type of case at least twice over and had been appointed to show the sleepy Norfolk force how things were handled. There was no point in having a state of the art headquarters if the people inside it weren’t up to the job. DI Reed had a certain amount of respect for him professionally, but couldn’t help thinking that compared with his previous post in London, little old Norfolk was just a bit too quiet for him, making him permanently grumpy.

Reed put his files down on the desk. He checked to see that his boss was still walking away and when the coast was clear he picked up the folder that Whitehead had been reading and started to go through it himself. It was Lee Gulliver’s statement, the man who had given Carmella a lift home the night she went missing. Reed had read it a few times and had never felt the need to shake his head.

“Gather round.” Whitehead shouted, standing approximately about one metre behind Reed, making him physically jump. How had the old bastard got there so quick and unnoticed?

Reed let the meeting wash over him; there was nothing new to report so they just ran over some old ground. He was more concerned with Whitehead’s show of disapproval and wondered what his superior had seen in the statement that he had not. Pushing his self-doubt to one side, he decided it was time to go back to the boring tasks such as door to door inquiries, hoping to find one detail that had been left out- the one detail that could make a real difference. They would start near Carmella Chapman’s house and work outwards. It was uninspiring work but it had to be done. Residents could have been out the first time the police had knocked on their door; they might have remembered something since they last gave a statement, or they might mention something which seemed irrelevant at the time, but the more they considered it over time, it had seemed a little odd.

Reed walked outside the office with no particular destination in mind. He wanted to clear the meeting from his head. Every second that passed felt like another second of failure. The look on Whitehead’s face was one of contempt at the way the investigation was going. He had a look about him that suggested he could step in at any time, if he wanted, and solve the whole thing in a blink of an eye, delivering Carmella home safe and sound to her worried parents.

Reed stopped in an empty corridor and took the time to call Kate. After a few rings she picked up.

“Hi, it’s me. I forgot to put the bin out.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll just have to take it to the dump if they don’t take it.”

“Yeah, I will do. I’m sorry I snapped at you this morning.”

“Don’t worry about it, honestly it’s OK.”

“It’s not OK, I’m sorry.”

“Look, try to have a nice day and we’ll talk later. I’ve got to go. Bye.” Kate said cheerily before hanging up.

Reed felt a little better after apologising to her. Perhaps he would have a nice day.

He made his way back down the corridor acknowledging to himself that as he was so annoyed at Whitehead’s obvious show of disapproval, he was going to interview Lee Gulliver himself. He would take DC Plumridge with him, who had conducted the initial interview. The only interesting fact to come from that was that Gulliver hadn’t come forward to the police of his own accord. David Jones, another reveller who had been at the Splitz nightclub on the evening Carmella had gone missing, had called the police to tell them that she had left with Gulliver. Gulliver had explained that it was no secret and he was waiting for the police to contact him, not wanting to seem too desperate to clear his name. Reed wondered what it was that Gulliver might need to clear his name from. Up until now all they were investigating was a missing person.

Reed’s phone started ringing in his pocket just before he reached the investigation room doors. When he retrieved it from his pocket the caller ID revealed it was Whitehead. Reed looked through one of the small windows set into the door and spotted his superior stood near to the whiteboard, facing away from him with a phone pressed to his ear. Deciding to avoid a face to face conversation he stepped away from the window and answered the call.

When the news was delivered, Reed was relieved to be alone. His legs went weak and he used the corner he was hiding in to support himself. A body had been found. It was the phone call any leading officer dreaded. The call any officer dreaded. In fact, it was the call any normal human being dreaded.

Chapter 3

The body was reported as being a young female. As soon as the words had hit Reed’s ears, an instant sense of failure had struck him in the pit of his stomach. To Whitehead’s credit, he wasn’t condescending, if anything he was sympathetic. Reed was now on his way to where the body had been found and was glad that Plumridge was doing the driving. He found himself tensing his whole body, gripping the hand rest on the car door with one hand and his knee with the other. When his knee began to hurt, it acted as a reminder to release his grip. It was a slow-building tension, slowly saturating his body in waves. It reminded him of being in a dentist’s chair or when he was flying and he slowly became aware that his whole body was as stiff as a board and he had to make a conscious effort to relax it, once he had, the tension would slowly begin to creep in again without him knowing and the whole cycle just repeated itself.

The body had been discovered on Thetford Common. The common itself was split in two by a road that ran through it; on one side it contained large grass areas that were kept tidy by the council with singular trees growing in random places. There were two football pitches and a gravel car park in the corner nearest the town. On the other side there was an unofficial car park entrance that was situated about one mile from the last house on the edge of the town as you drove towards Bury St Edmunds. It was a popular area for dog walkers, joggers, teen drinkers and the odd temporary gypsy settlement with caravans and tethered horses. The plants grew wild with only the tracks that had been worn into them over a period of years spoiling the natural setting. Reed had been there once as part of a team of officers who had moved on a group of Lithuanians that had made a small area amongst the trees their home. He had stood watch as tents, clothes and food had been packed away but rubbish left. A week later, complaints had come in from the public that the immigrants had simply moved to the cared for side of the common and set up there, forcing everybody to admit that they had been less of a problem where they had been in the first place.

The body had been found on the side that was left to look after itself and as they approached the outskirts of Thetford and the Common began, traffic had begun to slow as people tried to get a glimpse of what the police were doing. Reed could see police cars peeking through the bushes as they approached and wondered if they could have been better hidden. Parked on the road was a red Vauxhall Corsa with its hazard lights flashing and an irate-looking pensioner who was holding a Yorkshire Terrier in his arms and arguing with a uniformed officer that above all else, his dog’s walk was paramount. Other officers solemnly stood around awaiting instructions. There were two Crime Scene Investigation vans waiting to do their work. Whitehead had promised Reed that nothing would be disturbed until he got there to have a look.

The journey had been quiet and Reed looked over to Plumridge. He was a plump man who always seemed to have a thin layer of sweat on his head during the summer, making the wispy hairs at the side and back of his head stick down flat to his skin. He wore grey trousers, brown loafer shoes, a white shirt that had faint red stripes running vertically, and a bright red tie to set the look off. Reed didn’t think he had seen him in anything different for work. A grey suit jacket in winter maybe, but the styles and colours always stayed the same.

Plumridge was concentrating hard on the road ahead of him. He was normally a chatty man but he had hardly spoken a word since they had started their journey. There wasn’t a lot to say really and Reed took the time to contemplate whether he’d wished for a breakthrough in the case a little too hard. He hadn’t given up hope of finding Carmella Chapman alive. Not until about forty minutes ago anyway. The body hadn’t yet been identified but to Reed’s knowledge there were no other missing females that it could be, so if it wasn’t Carmella, it was some other poor soul who hadn’t been noticed as missing yet.

“Do you think it’s her?” Plumridge finally found his voice.

“Yes.” Reed replied. Then he went back to chewing his lip, letting the silence take a hold just as quickly as it had gone away.

As they finally pulled off the road, Plumridge guided the vehicle between two squad cars. Reed kept praying for some sort of mix up and that it wasn’t really Carmella. It could be a mannequin. It wouldn’t be the first time something like that had happened. His brother, who was a retained fire-fighter at Watton, had spent five hours waiting for crime scene officials to give the OK to remove a suspected body from a pond. Only it wasn’t a body; it was two carrier bags caught amongst fallen branches under the water. They had probably been there for years but with winter clearing the algae and the inquisitive mind of a dog walker, two undecided PCs; it had sparked a full scale murder scene enquiry. Reed was hoping for something similar here.

As he exited the car he was greeted by a police officer, “Hello, sir. I’m PC Ashton; I was the one who first attended the call.”

“Good of you to come over, can you give me a quick rundown?” Reed said, pulling the collar of his coat up to protect his neck from the fine drizzle that had begun to fall.

“Well, I got a call that a member of the public had found a body. When I arrived, Mr Roberts was sat in his car. He was grateful of the company, having had quite a shock. He had stopped there because he needed a pee, and knew the ground sinks down into a kind of pit. Says his bladder isn’t what it was and he couldn’t risk waiting until he had finished his walk. Then he saw some bushes a little further down and decided it was better cover. That’s when he saw the body and called the police.”

“Did he get to go?”

“Go, sir?” PC Ashton asked.

“Yes, go. Go for a pee?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Well, we need to know so the crime scene workers don’t waste any time on the contents of Mr Roberts’ bladder.” Reed said.

“Yes, sir. I’ll find out.” Ashton agreed. “Anyway, Mr Roberts guided me to the area and I edged down the embankment. I tried not to get too close, but I squatted down and saw what I believed to be a body of a young female.”

“Ok, thank you.”

The officer walked away and Reed felt the damp start to seep through his clothes. He wondered if the drizzle was fine enough to shoot straight through the fibres of his clothing and directly onto his skin. That’s what it felt like it was doing. Having enjoyed a sunny couple of weeks, the weather had turned to this. Everyone would be saying the same old things they did every year, like “The grass needed it” or “It’s freshened up the air.” Reed didn’t much care for the grass right now and he didn’t think the air had been too stale in the first place. Although it was fitting that the sky had turned dark today, providing the perfect backdrop for this turn of events and mirroring Reed’s feelings.

He was dreading going to see the body; after he had ambled around the car park for as long as he could wasting time, he had no choice but to make his way down towards one of the dirt tracks, through the bushes and find the pit. As he set off, he looked over to his right and saw DS Alice Tyler talking to Plumridge, who had soon hot footed it away from Reed after parking the car so he didn’t have to accompany him to see this. Tyler was about the only friend Reed had on the force. She was attractive in an intelligent sort of way. She was tall and slim and had a pale, creamy complexion. Her hair had the tightest ringlets he had ever seen and they were always pulled back into a ponytail, coloured a bright auburn. The colour of her hair was as natural as her ringlets she had once told him, not revealing exactly how natural that was. Reed always thought that if you were to remove the band holding it all together at the back of her head, her hair would shoot out into a perfect afro with the same gusto as a spring breaking free from a cartoon bed.

As Reed made his way through the bushes that seemed to be scattered around in no particular order, he couldn’t help but wonder if they had been planted this way or was Mother Nature slowly claiming back her land? He hoped it was Mother Nature. PC Ashton was on hand to point out which track to follow and after only a few metres he spotted two officers at the cusp of the pit. One was taking official photos of the area before it got disturbed too much. The other officer was holding a clipboard; it was his job to keep a log of anybody that entered the cordoned-off area and a ring of police tape weaved its way around the trees indicating exactly where this was.

It was the third day that Carmella had been missing and in some way he hoped she had been here the whole time. He hoped she hadn’t been held captive for all this time and put through a living hell before being killed. Maybe an accident had occurred and she knew nothing of her own death. There was also the selfish reason; if she had died before she was reported missing, it would mean that he hadn’t had a chance at finding her alive.

The weather had been hot and sunny up until today and Reed wondered if her flesh had been left to bake in the sun? He sniffed reluctantly at the air. There was a smell he recognised but couldn’t identify. At least it wasn’t flesh, baked or otherwise. He had seen dead bodies before but most had been in a state of rest, laid out for identification. Only traffic accidents had tested his threshold for keeping his stomach contents and he pondered what injuries Carmella may have suffered and how recent. Had she died today and her killer had no more use for her? His mind worked overtime in painting horrific images that turned his stomach and he fought hard to shake them off, knowing he had to approach the scene with no pre-set thoughts.

He showed his ID card to the officer keeping guard and signed the visiting sheet. There was a strong smell of moss and damp soil. The smell he had noticed just a few seconds ago was stronger now but he still couldn’t pinpoint what it was. He looked down into the pit and amongst the natural habitat was a white canvas tent that was protecting the body from the elements. Police tape created a temporary pathway which would have been searched thoroughly by the crime scene officers and the rest of the area left untouched. Reed made for the tent with the same enthusiasm as a child being led to the dentist. Despite the mass police presence, an eerie silence took over the deeper he descended and just the sound of cracking twigs and his own breathing accompanied him.

As soon as he entered the little entrance of the tent he was greeted with the sight of a female foot- small, elegant and housed in a strappy high heeled shoe. The rest of the body was obscured by thick plants curling over it. Taking into account the description that had been given of the clothes Carmella had been wearing, he knew it was her.

Reed bent at the knees to get a small advantage. He wasn’t allowed to get right in there with her and didn’t much want to. She was laid flat on her back with her arms tucked neatly beside her. A thin layer of grime covered her skin and clothes. He walked to the opposite end so that he could see her face more clearly. She looked like she might be sleeping, not in the peaceful heavenly way that everyone imagines but in the gormless slacked jawed way that people really are in their sleep. Blood had dried to her head and matted her hair. Maybe the litter that surrounded her might hold some clues. Then Reed noticed something; the blood on her head went slightly to one direction. It defied gravity and ran upwards towards the sky, meaning her body must have been moved at some stage or at the very least turned over.

The murders Reed had dealt with before were the result of robberies, muggings or street fights which had escalated to something more than intended. They could be described as almost accidental killings. The only intentional murder he could recall working on was the case of Andrew Gate. Mr Gate had shot his wife after finding out she was having an affair. He called the police straight away after doing it and confessed all. Gate had a reason for his actions. Or had the reason just been more obvious?

Reed quickly gave himself a mental slap. There were sick and twisted people out there and just because he couldn’t rationalise the murder of a young girl, it didn’t mean that somebody else didn’t have what they believed to be a good reason. Some people had morals that wouldn’t allow them to throw rubbish from the car; here, someone had tossed a young girl’s body into this piss-stinking litter trap.

“Hello Detective Inspector Reed. Nice to see you again, although, I will say not the best of circumstances. I hear you’re in charge of this one.” It was head pathologist, Doctor Michael Steed. Reed welcomed the strange little man’s interruption.

“Hello Mike. Yeah I’m in charge of this one. I didn’t see your car.”

“The car’s here, I’ve been here a while. You just weren’t looking. I saw you trying to put off coming up here, so I gave you a minute before offering my support. It’s not a pretty sight is it?” Michael Steed was no more than 5 foot 4. Reed guessed he was over sixty because of his white hair and professor beard. He spoke with a foghorn of a voice that held posh tones, and Reed always expected him to finish each sentence with “You stupid boy!” but this would have been totally out of place with his jolly character.

“Not pretty at all. I said I didn’t see your car; it doesn’t mean I didn’t know you were here.”

“Enlighten me, dear sir.” Steed said whilst he adjusted his tweed jacket.

Reed nodded towards the policeman standing with the clipboard of names, “You’ve been disturbing my crime scene.”

“Ah. This is why you are the detective and I am not. I got a sort of permission from the lovely DS Tyler; she didn’t think you would mind me taking a look-see.”

“And she would be correct. Find anything?”

“Nothing earth shattering. It’s pretty much what you can see for yourself: female, late teens-early twenties and looks as though a blow to the back of the head is the most likely cause of death. I haven’t done too much as I didn’t want to interfere with your crime scene. The only contact I made was a liver temperature check, just a pin prick. There is something a little strange though.”

“How do you mean, strange?” Reed asked.

“I’ll know more after the autopsy but the blow to the head itself looks fairly straightforward. It’s the time of death that’s a bit of a puzzle. The liver temp would say it was sixty hours ago given the weather we’ve had, but if you were working from sight alone, I would say about twenty four hours. Any more than that and you would have expected our little creepy crawly friends to have really started on her, which they haven’t. Ask another pathologist and they might say it’s over sixty hours due to some thinning of the skin in certain areas. It’s rather interesting.” Steed explained with a smile.

“Now you’ve confused the hell out of me! What’s your best, educated guess?”

“Oh. Sixty hours. The liver temperature rarely lies.”

“How long before you start the autopsy? Reed asked, wondering why Steed had given him all the other timeframes. He was talking for the sake of bloody talking.

“Crime Scene tells me the body can be taken away within the next couple of hours. I’ll only hang around for another forty odd minutes, just so I can take another liver temperature reading. All things considered I’d say I’ll start the autopsy about three this afternoon. You want to tag along?” Steed chirped.

“I think ‘want’ is a bit strong, but yes I ’need’ to tag along, so don’t start without me.” Reed instructed.

“Right you are. Don’t you be late.” He countered, before offering, “If you’re hanging around too, I’ve got lunch in the car? It’s my wife’s finest ham and pickle.”

“You’re a bloody mystery to me.” Reed shook his head. Food was the last thing on his mind.

“What?” Steed shrugged, holding his hands out, but Reed was already walking away.

After locating DS Alice Tyler who was pretty much the Robin to his Batman, he informed her that she would have the pleasure of driving him back to the station. Plumridge would stay on to watch over the forensic team. Not that they needed it but he would be on hand to relay any important messages.

As Tyler and Reed were friends as well as colleagues of opposite sex, there were always rumours surrounding them. She was one of the most thorough detectives he had ever worked with and her memory was exceptional, which happened to be one of Reed’s downfalls. He would take advantage of her photographic-like memory by not listening in meetings, knowing she would keep him up to date with the important bits.

They had fun together and worked well together. He was respectful of her, which couldn’t be said for all the males in the department, especially as she had been recommended for promotion, by Reed, ahead of the rest of them.

They had first worked together when Reed’s brother, Liam, had been burgled by way of mistaken location. Liam’s flat was situated next door to a small-time thug called Carl Driscall, who happened to think he was a big-time player in the crime world. Driscall would add considerable weight to his already large physique by draping his body in gold, a ring for every finger and five necklaces when one would have sufficed. It was supposed to be a statement of success when in fact all it achieved was unwanted attention.

It was this jewellery and the drugs that paid for them that were the target for the three burglars. Unfortunately for them, they went to the wrong flat and with Reed’s brother Liam having only just moved in and yet to make it a proper home, all they left with was a TV, a pair of trainers and a jar of small change totalling £16.43.

Luck would have it that one of Reed’s informants was leaving the King’s Arms pub and spotted the three men as they made a run for it carrying their loot. Weapons of defence had been clearly visible. It was these weapons that had got Reed’s back up most. Seeing the bigger picture, if his brother had come home any earlier than he had, Reed had serious doubts as to whether they would have checked to see if the person walking in matched Carl Driscall’s description before using their baseball bats and metal bars if his brother had come home.

A few days and a couple of calls later, Liam’s stuff was returned in full. The three men were offered a promise of no arrest which Reed kept. But one visit to the intended target to inform him of their plan to rob him, and how they had carried baseball bats meant for him, justice had been served fairly swiftly.

In a strange way, Tyler had admired Reed for his actions. No rules had been broken, just manipulated to suit the situation. The fact that Tyler had been privy to all of Reed’s actions and hadn’t lodged a complaint meant that a mutual friendship had begun.

Being Chief Family Liaison Officer for Norfolk was not what Allison Mcleary had set out to do. But somewhere along the line it was what she had become. Her main role was dealing with families affected by a crime that was still ongoing. If somebody was missing or murdered, it was Mcleary’s duty to reveal or conceal information, her judgement on the family members emotional wellbeing serving as her guide. Sometimes though, she had no choice on discretion. When a missing person was found, dead or alive, she had to pass the information on.

She had experienced physical assault when delivering news but the worst injuries she had suffered had been from a middle aged woman who, upon hearing the news that her son was safe and well, had hugged her so hard that it actually cracked a rib. It was hard accepting the credit for good news but harder taking the blame for bad.

Mcleary was now sat opposite Carmella’s dad, Brian Chapman, in the dining room of this newly built, but not yet finished house. Brenda Chapman was in the lounge talking on the phone. Their only other child, Brett, who was now very likely their only child, was upstairs in his room, blocking out reality with endless hours of computer games and loud music much like any other teenager.

Mcleary had just taken a phone call from DI Reed to say that a young girl’s body had been found. Although it had not been confirmed as Carmella, it did match her description and it was time to prepare the family for the potentially devastating news before a friend or family member called them to say there was a heavy police presence at Thetford Common and ask if they had heard anything.

It was a blessing and a curse to be able to read people so well and Mcleary had a visualisation of what was to come. The house she was sat in was beautiful. Brian, a builder by trade, had built it to their exact requirements and over the last couple of days had explained what was left to do. The few bricks that were left on a pallet in the back garden had been set aside for a barbeque which was going to be at the centre of the patio. The main family rooms had been finished and decorated in neutral colours. He was waiting for a wood burner to arrive so he could put it in the hollow brick fireplace she was staring at now. It had an empty space where something should be, a symbol of their lives to come. Brenda would be upset, obviously, but Brian was barely holding it together at the moment and she feared he could have a complete breakdown. Brett would be sad, lost and confused and wanting the whole episode to just go away.

Brenda came into the dining room and made eye contact with Mcleary, immediately knowing something was wrong. Brian, who had not looked up from his newspaper when Mcleary had taken the call, now folded it slightly between his fingers and peeked over the top of it.

“What is it?” Brenda asked.

“Sit down and I’ll tell you. I’ve just taken a phone call,” Brenda had pulled a chair from the table and was physically shaking. Brian folded his paper completely, putting it down on the table and tried to steady his wife. Brenda somehow knew in her heart of hearts what was coming. Mcleary’s eyes switched from one parent to the other as she continued, “A body has been found.”

Brian’s face instantly contorted and he threw his hands up to hide it. Brenda was beyond shaking now. She looked like she was having a seizure. Her breathing was almost asthmatic and she gasped for air. The first of many tears to come were gushing down her cheeks.

“It does match the description of Carmella,” She continued but wasn’t sure she had been heard. Mcleary lowered her head in respect, “I’m sorry.”

She let the Chapmans cry and try to find comfort in one another’s arms; only when the screaming started did she stand and move over to them. She didn’t know if she was wanted there but she couldn’t help herself. It was only when she wrapped an arm around each of them that she realised the screaming was coming from Brian.

Brett came thundering down the stairs and Mcleary looked up at him as he froze in the doorway. He knew too.

Just knew.

She stepped away from his parents to allow him to join their mutual hug of grieving. Allison Mcleary left the room and shed some tears too.

Chapter 4

“Two sugars for me.” Reed demanded.

DS Tyler was stood by the coffee vending machine in the main reception at Wymondham police station. Although you had to pay for the coffee down here, at least it actually tasted like coffee which was more than could be said of the free stuff they were provided with upstairs. DI Reed had come through the double doors with purpose. He always had two sugars so Tyler accepted he was just asking for a cup and not informing her how he liked it. “Yes, sir.”

“Then come and see me in my office.” He added as he made his way down the corridor, not breaking his stride or looking back.

“Yes, sir.” Tyler also accepted she was paying today. She felt around in her bag for the purse she had just put away.

The journey back to Wymondham had been sullen. The discovery of a young girl’s body wasn’t exactly something either of them wanted to delve into. Not straight away but, unfortunately, they would have to. When they finally parked up, Reed had taken out his phone and told Tyler to go ahead and he would catch her up in a minute. She was almost certain he was going to call his wife and it made her feel a little sad that she didn’t have someone to call. In all honesty, if Reed hadn’t have been there, she probably would have called him. Seeing people murdered and discarded like rubbish triggered off an instinct to check on the ones you loved. Not that she loved Reed but her dad was dead and her mum was in a care home. She visited her mum once or twice a week but she wasn’t conveniently ready at the end of the phone if they she ever fancied a chat. Since her dad had died four years ago, her mother had shown signs of dementia within a matter of weeks. Since then it had been hit and miss as to whether she could actually hold a conversation. Tyler didn’t have a partner and she had thrown herself into her work to such an extent that she had drifted apart from her university friends. The sad truth was that the person she felt closest to was her boss.

She made her way down the corridor and up the stairs towards Reed’s office. It was a slow journey as there had been no lids to put on the coffee cups. Over analysing it, she established that the cups and lids had been purchased in equal measures. Nobody should ever need two lids to one cup; some people might not even want a lid. Being short of cups she could understand, the common practice of inserting one inside the other to protect your hands from the heat was perfectly acceptable. What wasn’t acceptable was the fact she had paid sixty pence for two drinks and twenty pence’s worth was scolding her skin and staining her clothes.

After much care, she entered Reed’s office. He was sat behind his desk on the edge of his big comfy chair, rifling through one of his desk drawers and he didn’t feel the need to look up. Every time Tyler was in here she couldn’t shake the feeling that he suffered from some form of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. All the papers on his desk were at right angles to the edges of the desk, in neat, almost untouched piles. He had two pens, one red, and one black; they were positioned so that they formed a triangle against the corner of his desk.

This provided a dilemma for Tyler, she was somewhat unsure as to where she should place his coffee and as there was more liquid on the outside of the cup than there was in it, she didn’t want to mess up his perfectly organised display. Luckily he relieved her from the dilemma; he slammed the drawer shut, stood up from his chair and held out his hand inviting her to hand the drink over. He took a big gulp from the cardboard container in the same manner as a homeless alcoholic would drink from their bottle that was hidden in a brown paper bag. He made to put his cup down but hesitated for a split second, obviously struggling to find a suitable spot on his desk too. He chose instead to finish it off and toss the cup in the bin. Tyler made a mental note to hold onto hers until it was finished as she sat herself down.

“I want you to join me at the autopsy. Dental records confirm it’s Carmella.” Reed said.

“Thanks.” Tyler replied sarcastically. They both knew she wanted to be there. Reed wanted to be there too. They both knew that the autopsy, as horrible as it would be, was the potential first step to catching the killer. Plus, Reed needed Tyler there; with her memory she was his personal notepad.

“You’re more than welcome. I could take someone else if. . .”

“No, I’ll come.”

“I know you will.” Reed smiled before unexpectedly throwing his car keys on her lap, making her jump so that she spilled a little more coffee. He was already on his way out of the room so she gave up drinking it and placed it on the centre of his desk out of spite.

The morgue was part of the Norwich City Hospital estate. It was set amongst various research centres. There was a whole building dedicated to plant research, another where its occupants designed various diets to help with various diseases. Slap bang in the middle was the mortuary. As they parked out the front, Reed couldn’t help but think that the mortuary location was a sort of afterthought, like the planners had forgotten they needed one. Its location hardly inspired faith in the work being done in the research centres either side. The main hospital had its own morgue for the patients they couldn’t save so that this one was dedicated to ‘outside’ corpses.

Reed and Tyler had unfortunately been here a number of times. This didn’t stop the receptionist, Ms Edward, not Edwards, always requiring identification. How she could see their small ID cards was a mystery. She looked like she was the wrong side of 80 years old and she had a personality of someone who hadn’t slept at all in those years. She would squint at the ID before painstakingly comparing it, point by point, to the human form in front of her. Once she was satisfied, she gave them their passes and protective clothing and waved them through, letting them find their own way because she knew full well they had been here before. The protective clothing came in a sealed bag and contained a full body suit which zipped up at the front, a hat to catch loose hairs and a pair of paper boots to minimalise the chances of contaminants being transported into the autopsy room. Hands needed to be washed thoroughly before entering and again after exiting.

They shuffled down the magnolia painted corridor and turned into the changing room. The automatic lights pinged on to reveal five lockers, a shower, a sink and a toilet cubicle. The changing area was similar to those that you found at a swimming pool, clothes pegs included.

All the permanent staff used a separate changing room. Reed had been in there a few times and the only major difference was a TV and old leather sofa to help pass away their break times.

“I hate attending these.” Reed said, as the pair stepped into their suits.

“I don’t think anyone really enjoys it.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily agree with that. Steed seems to love it.”

“Yeah, but dead bodies are only a part of his job. He gets to piece together the scientific truth and he doesn’t have to meet the creeps face to face who try and fob you off.”

“When you put it like that, a career change might be in order. Ready?”

“Yep.” Tyler replied a little too cheerily.

Reed pressed the buzzer next to the door and Steed’s assistant, Lucy Mack, buzzed them through. Lucy had frizzy brown hair, spectacles and a stick-thin frame. She looked like a stereotypical scientist even at the grand old age of 30.

Mike Steed was already hovering over Carmella’s body. He was wearing his white lab coat, white trousers and blue paper booties covering his own shoes. He also wore a hat which looked like a novelty shower cap as it was so colourful.

“Whoever put her in those bushes covered her body in bleach before leaving.” Steed said without even looking up.

“Bleach?” Tyler asked.

“Yes, it’s a new one to me. As I was telling DI Reed at the scene, something distorted the overall picture a little.”

“Bleach.” Tyler said again to nobody in particular.

“Her whole body was covered with it.”

“Interesting.” Tyler said, again, to no one in particular.

Turning to Reed, Steed continued, “It’s what gave the skin its appearance of older decomposition, but it also managed to keep the bugs away. I’ve sent a sample for testing, but I’m fairly sure.”

Reed thought the most likely reason someone would pour bleach over a murdered body was to hide evidence.

Tyler was studying Carmella’s body. This beautiful young girl was lying naked on a cold metal slab. It struck Tyler that you spent your whole life covering yourself up with clothes, only sharing your naked body with people that you cared for and trusted the most. Now, this poor girl with no say in the matter was laid out for strangers to look at and examine intimately.

“Time of death was around midnight on Saturday night.” Steed said in a matter of fact manner, then without any hesitation he picked up a scalpel and started to make the Y-incision on Carmella’s torso, cutting through human skin with the same emotion as if it were a sandwich. The Y-incision was the common procedure to expose the internal organs. These would be removed, studied, dissected and have various tests run on them. The tests would reveal what Carmella’s last meal was, when it was eaten, if she was drunk and how drunk, and whether she had drugs in her system.

While Steed executed this procedure with creepy expertise, he explained his initial findings on the outside of her body. The head injury that had likely killed her was the same one that had caused the blood to congeal in her hair. There wasn’t enough blood at the scene to suggest that the blow had occurred where her body had been found. There were no obvious defence marks, although fingernail scrapings had been taken. There was no evidence of any recent sexual activity.

He was almost certain her skull had been fractured by the blow. He had done a light finger examination and could feel fragments of skull moving freely underneath the surface. Blood would have seeped into the brain cavity causing massive pressure to build up, eventually starving the brain of oxygen. What parts of her brain it had starved would be revealed later when he removed it from her skull. No matter what areas were affected, it would go down in his report as massive trauma to the head.

Reed was grateful Steed was explaining what he had found so far. It gave him something else to focus on other than the greyish pink organs being cut from Carmella’s body. They seemed to glisten in the high watt light coming from above.

Each organ was cut at, pulled at a little, then cut at a little more until it was free. All this was done with great care and respect by Steed. This didn’t stop the images, textures and sounds of cutting a steak with scissors appearing in and out of Reed’s mind. He thought back to when he had struggled through bits of tough gristle, almost sawing at it with his knife. Reed’s graphic imagination was making him feel sick. He shook all this from his head as he tried to refocus on the words being spoken and hoped Tyler had heard the ones he had missed whilst he had been imagining things more graphic than what was in front of him.

There were cuts and grazes on the backs and fronts of Carmella’s hands as well as her elbows and knees. There was another considerable bruise to the front of her head indicating she could have been attacked from behind and then fallen forwards. According to Steed, most of these had happened after her death explaining that because her heart had stopped, the wounds showed signs of seepage blood loss only and had not been forced out by blood pressure created by the heart.

He continued to remove various organs as he explained this. One by one he handed them to Lucy who was weighing them and noting it all down on a chart. She then put them individually into polystyrene boxes before labelling them and putting them into chilled storage. The only break in this routine came with the stomach. It was weighed twice, once with its contents and once without. The contents were then put in a separate container to be examined later.

Steed very gently moved Carmella’s head so she was facing to her left so that the wound she had received when she was hit was pointing up towards the ceiling. He picked up a scalpel and prepared to cut into her scalp. Reed wanted to make his excuses and leave; he wanted to avoid the part of the autopsy where the brain was removed. He could read all about that in the pathologists report. He hated the way the face drooped after the skin at the top of the head had been cut, completely changing the appearance of a human face before your eyes. It made the person look like a good argument for the theory of evolution, from ape to man but in reverse order. He also hated it when they cut the skull itself. If you weren’t wearing a protective mask, the smell of bone dust stayed in your nostrils for days.

“I’m going to do this a little differently today. I can’t just remove the brain in the normal way. The blow to the head which I suspect to be the fatal one is right on the line of which we would normally cut the skull. So, I’m just going to lift a flap of skin to examine the skull beneath it.” Steed wasn’t only saying this for Reed’s and Tyler’s benefit, he was saying it for the in-house recording system. It was used as an audible back up if anyone wanted to question the procedures used in the autopsy.

“Will you leave the brain in then?” Tyler asked like the keen student she was.

“No, I will remove it. I’ll have to. But if I cut the skull now, the vibrations could extend any fractures. This would distort the power of the blow or even the shape of the weapon.”

Tyler seemed satisfied.

Steed then made three straight cuts, just behind Carmella’s ear. Each one was 10 centimetres long and together they made a rectangular flap which was lifted and clipped to her hair so it didn’t keep falling down.

“Yes. As expected, the wound would suggest blunt trauma,” Steed confirmed his initial diagnosis. Tyler was leaning in over Steed’s shoulder, taking in all the details. Reed stood back a little and waited for the oral report while Lucy was waiting for Tyler to get out of her way so she could take photos. “It looks much like a chip in a windscreen, with the central hole fairly circular and no bigger than four millimetres. The shape of the fracture suggests that although the weapon could be described as heavy and blunt, it would have had at least one deformity, some sort of sharp point. My guess would be a large stone, something like that.”

Reed thought about this and considered a spontaneous attack. He didn’t think anyone would plan an attack using a stone when there were so many varieties of weapon designed for the sole purpose of hurting people.

“The cracks leading away from the centre of impact are in various shapes and sizes, but no bigger than 35mm and no smaller than 10mm.”

Lucy now forced her camera in front of Tyler giving her a polite ‘get out of the way’ smile. She took several photos in quick succession. Tyler moved away reluctantly.

“Could she have fallen onto the stone or whatever it was?” Tyler asked, not giving up.

“In my opinion, no. Let’s say for arguments sake that she fainted and fell to the ground, landing on the exact same thing that done this, the fractures would be more evenly spread. On this particular wound, the lines are longer leading down towards the neck, suggesting she was hit from behind with the trajectory coming from slightly above her.

“Your opinion?” Reed asked.

“Yes, I’m no expert. I could well imagine a good solicitor arguing it was an accident in court, but I’m confident a fracture specialist would confirm my somewhat humble opinion.”

Reed didn’t doubt it. He also didn’t doubt that the next procedure was to remove the brain. He had the cause of death- trauma to the head causing massive bleeding to the brain, starving it of oxygen. No obvious defence marks. The weapon used was heavy and blunt with a sharp point on it somewhere, probably a large stone or rock, which didn’t exactly narrow down the possible locations that the murder took place considering where her body had been found.

Much to Tyler’s disappointment, he made their excuses to leave, getting out just in time. Reed could hear the mini circular saw that was used to cut the skull being started as he shut the changing room door. It would be tomorrow before the final report was ready. They now knew that Carmella’s body had probably been moved after she had died. There wasn’t enough blood consistent with her wound where they had found her and the superficial cuts and grazes she had received after her heart had stopped indicated that she had been dragged, or possibly rolled, into the pit where she had been found.

Reed and Tyler put their protective clothing back into the plastic bags from which they were removed. These would be given an identification number by Ms Edward and put in storage as evidence. The pair of them had been to the area where Carmella was found and could have easily transferred trace evidence to the autopsy room that shouldn’t have been there, especially with how close Tyler liked to get. By logging who wore what, they could look back and either include or exclude certain evidence.

When they got outside, Reed was grateful to breathe in the warm, natural air- air that didn’t smell of cleaning products. Or flesh. He stopped outside the building enjoying the heat and, like a reptile basking in the sun, he let it invigorate him. It slowly removed the chill that he had got whilst watching Carmella’s autopsy. He wasn’t sure if it was the autopsy or the temperature of the room which had chilled him.

They got in the car, Tyler driving, and joined the A11 to Wymondham. If you carried on past the police headquarters in Wymondham, the A11 took you directly to Thetford where Carmella had lived. Carry on further still and you came to Newmarket where she had been at a club the night she was killed.

“So do you think we’re dealing with someone who panicked and used the bleach as an afterthought or someone who had planned it, thought it through and had the bleach ready to try and cover their tracks?” Reed asked.

“I find it hard to believe somebody planned to kill a normal 18 year old girl with a rock.”

“You should know by now that normal is a fairly small bracket. She might fit the description ‘normal’ but it doesn’t mean her killer does. I agree though, I don’t think this was a pre-planned attack. The bleach might be another matter; had the person just been shopping? Did they leave the scene to fetch it and then come back?”

“At least it looks like the poor girl didn’t suffer under the circumstances. No torture; she wasn’t raped. According to Steed there was no recent sexual activity.”

“Was that his politically correct way of saying that she wasn’t a virgin?” Reed asked.

“Yes.” Tyler smiled.

“So there could be a boyfriend we don’t know about?”

“I don’t think so. We checked all that with her friends when she went missing, none of them knew of anybody. Lee Gulliver had taken a fancy to her and she trusted him enough to get a lift home, like she had done on a few occasions. Her friends don’t think they were, and I quote, ‘together-together.’ Before that evening no harm had come to her.”

“Did he always drop her off at the end of the road like he suggested he did on Saturday?” Reed asked.

“Yes. He has one of those. . . What do they call them, revved-up cars with the big exhausts?”

“Revved-up cars?” Reed smiled.

“Well, whatever they’re called? I don’t know, do I?”

Back at headquarters, the over-sized whiteboard had been changed. Suspects had been changed to Murder Suspects, with just one name listed: Lee Gulliver. Reed pondered if he was really running this investigation. Whitehead had felt the need to update the board in his absence. It was a small annoyance, but still an annoyance. The room had barely a scattering of people so Reed couldn’t blend in with the crowd and he was soon motioned over by Whitehead when he was spotted.

“Sir?”

“Everyone is going over what we’ve got, making sure it all adds up. As you no doubt spotted, we’ve got one main suspect so far, Lee Gulliver. DC Plumridge is seeing what the speed cameras turn up in the area. There is a team gathering information on the known criminals in the area and any links to old cases, solved or otherwise.”

“Should I stick my feet up then, sir?” Reed asked sarcastically.

“If you want to,” Reed watched as a crimson colour took over Whitehead’s face. “Or you could go and interview Lee Gulliver?”

Reed felt a small sense of satisfaction at his superior’s reaction before it was swept away by the realisation that Whitehead was right. He should go and interview Gulliver.

Chapter 5

“See? Revved up.” Tyler said with excitement. The Vauxhall Corsa could not be described any other way. It was lagoon blue with over-the-top graphics on the bonnet which Reed thought looked like an eagle that was just about to land. Down the sides of the car there were white go-faster stripes. The exhaust was about four inches in diameter and looked capable of waking any household within a three mile radius. There was a spoiler on the back, skirts on the sides and front which nearly touched the floor and Reed thought that any decent sized pot hole would surely see the end of them.

During the journey to Gulliver’s flat they had stopped at the road where Carmella had allegedly been dropped off, not just the night she went missing but on a few occasions previously. After leaving the A11, they had driven for a further two miles towards Thetford before stopping at the end of Bridgeham Road. It was here that Carmella should have then made the short walk home. There was a large Tesco store that was open for twenty four hours a day located on the same road and Reed would have been amazed if Carmella had been snatched from here without any witnesses present. Even in the small hours, there would have been plenty of traffic passing the end of the road or heading in and out of the supermarket. On the opposite side to the Tesco entrance was a thin strip of wasteland that backed onto a crop field. The whole area had been searched by specialist police teams when she had first been reported missing and turned up nothing.

Reed spent a few minutes getting a feel for the place, picturing various scenarios in his mind’s eye, trying to play out what could have happened. Whichever way he looked at it, he couldn’t see Carmella being taken from here. It was only a hundred metres to the end of her driveway, leaving a very small window of opportunity for somebody to take her, and the chances of not being spotted doing it were very slim. He started to sway towards the theory that she knew her killer.

From Bridgeham Road they headed towards the town centre. After half a mile they turned left onto Diss Road before looping around behind the shops on the high street. The back of Gulliver’s flat looked out over a pay and display car park and Tyler had pointed out the ‘revved up’ vehicle whilst trying to park her own.

Reed took the short walk to the ticket machine and put the change in to cover the minimum two hours stay, skillfully avoiding the sticky patches on the buttons as he did so. Making his way back to the car, he noticed Tyler was perched on the edge of the car bonnet with her face pointing directly at the sun, greedily soaking up the warmth. When he got near enough she took the ticket from him and placed it neatly on the dashboard. They walked silently across the tarmac and stepped onto the pavement getting stuck behind an overweight woman whose body had to rock from side to side to allow her to walk. She was joined by two children who used her considerable bulk as an island to chase around and hide behind. Reed had to slow his walk to match the waddle pace in front of him; there were several opportunities to pass her but he was worried Tyler would get blocked by the rotating youngsters. He decided to wait and hoped she was heading to the shops and not the block of flats, otherwise he might need to get an extension on the parking ticket.

Luckily she turned left, allowing Reed’s blood pressure to return to something near normal as he and Tyler took the right hand option down a short pathway to a block of eight flats. Gulliver lived at number seven on the first floor, meaning they had to take the stairs which smelt of a mixture of urine and damp cigarette butts. Once at the top, they stepped out onto the balcony and Reed noticed that a resident of one of the flats near to the open stairwell had turned their portion of the walkway into a miniature version of The Chelsea Flower Show. There were planters on the floor that stretched the length of the property and windowsill boxes overflowed from the balcony wall. Reed wondered if their sole purpose was to improve the aroma coming from the stairwell.

Navigating the foliage with care, the distinct vibrations of bass from somebody’s stereo was getting stronger and louder. A few steps further and it was obvious that it was coming from number seven. Gulliver had his music playing at an ear piercing level despite knowing the officers were coming to see him. Perhaps he thought that he could keep them away with noise alone, and to be fair, by the sound of the techno dance music resonating in Reed’s ears it could work, but he refused to give up that easy so he thumped on the door with the heel of his fist.

“I’m really going to like this lad. I can tell.” Reed said, making Tyler smile.

With the music continuing and no sign of anybody at the door, Reed braced himself by putting a hand either side of the door, leaning his weight forward against the wall, then he kind of danced along to the beat before kicking his left foot against the base of door, making sure it was completely out of sync to the beat of the music.

“What the fuck is . . .” Gulliver was screaming as the door flew open.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Reed said, still leaning in, still holding on to the wall ready if the door was to shut again. Gulliver’s face was no more than a few inches away from his and he watched as the realization of who was on his doorstep crept over it. Gathering himself together, Gulliver motioned for the officers to follow him inside.

The flat was omitting a smell of stale marijuana even before they stepped in through the front door. Gulliver had darted to the left to what was probably the lounge; the kitchen was visible through a small arch at the end of the hall. There were two heavy fire doors on the right, a bathroom and bedroom Reed guessed. He thought it was funny that the most likely source of fire, the kitchen, was the only room without a fire door.

Tyler’s face was one of disapproval as they entered the dank, smelly lounge. Despite there being windows at either end of the room, the scum that had accumulated on them was filtering out most of the natural light. The only artificial light inside was coming from a tall lamp in the corner and that was struggling to do the job it was designed for under an old fashioned brown lampshade.

Gulliver had moved quickly to turn the music off and was already sat down in a chair; he was perched on the edge of the seat looking down, fiddling with one of his gold rings. Reed and Tyler were left to occupy the sofa. Reed sat first, and then Tyler followed. She sank deeper than Reed despite her being about four stone lighter. Her feet actually came off the floor and she let slip a small yelp. Both men stared at her as she shifted around trying to find a firm area where the springs might still have some life in them. In the end she organised herself onto the front edge of the seat, her face a bright crimson.

“Get on with your neighbours with all that noise do you?” Tyler asked harshly, angry that she had not been warned about the broken chair.

“What? They’re alright actually.” Gulliver replied, not realising it was their opinion of him that she was after. Stopping herself short of calling Gulliver names she could get in trouble for, she looked to Reed to take over.

“As you must be aware, Carmella Chapman’s body has been found which means our investigation has changed from a missing person to a murder enquiry,” Reed paused, giving the words time to settle into Gulliver’s brain, “Her body was found on Thetford Common and I wanted to check with you to see if on the night you gave her a lift home whether you stopped or passed there?”

“No, I’ve already told your lot the way we went.” Gulliver snapped.

“I know you have but I have new questions for you and in order to ask these I need to confirm a few things along the way.” Reed explained as though he was talking to a three year old, and mentally, who knew? “So my next question is: When you dropped Carmella off, did you notice anything suspicious?”

Gulliver made a mock of thinking, raising a finger to his chin and looking skywards, “Yes. There was a man with a sign saying ‘I’m a murderer!’ I just didn’t mention it before. No, I didn’t see anything, I’ve already told you.”

“Mr Gulliver, if our questions are worrying you, we can do this at the police station in a formal capacity. You’re free to request a solicitor no matter where you are. Our intention at the beginning of this interview was to gather information; however, your sarcasm and general demeanor are making me just a little suspicious.” Tyler said.

“It’s your call?” Reed chipped in.

Gulliver dropped his tough guy act straight away. His shoulders actually slumped. He seemed to disappear into his chair much the same as Tyler had earlier, just less dramatic. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, “I wish I could remember something. Having been the last one to see her alive, I know I’m a suspect; I’m not stupid. It’s frustrating that I can’t steer this away from me.”

“You’re just helping us with our enquiries at the moment, that’s all. Tell me what happened after you dropped her off. The route you took.” Reed asked.

“We took the A11 from Newmarket, turned off on the Thetford/Watton road and I dropped her off at the end of Bridgeham Road; I carried on, turned onto Diss Road and parked out there,” Gulliver nodded towards the car park Tyler had parked in. “Then I walked to my flat.”

“What time was it you arrived home?”

“It was about one in the morning.”              `

“Can you be more specific?” Reed insisted.

“It was just before, 10 to 1.”

“Is there anyone who saw you get home, someone who could confirm the time? Just so we can really pinpoint the time you dropped Carmella off; it could make all the difference.”

“No. Not that I know of. It’s like I told the others, I hadn’t planned on getting mixed up in all of this.” Gulliver answered.

“What about Carmella, did she seem worried or upset?”

“No.”

Reed was surprised by the curt answer so he nodded his head and kept his eyes fixed on Gulliver. Silence can be a great weapon in interviews. Sometimes people could feel awkward and would just start to blabber on but Gulliver wasn’t playing the game. He looked awkward enough but he wasn’t going to start talking without being prompted.

Reed used the silence to process a couple things that might mean nothing or absolutely everything. Gulliver had stated that he was the last person to see Carmella alive and also indicated he was eager to steer the attention away from him. Were they the words of a nervous killer or the defensive words of an innocent person? The statement was true; he had been the last known person to see her alive and surely, any innocent person would want to clear their name as soon as possible.

“What exactly was your relationship with Carmella?” Tyler asked.

“I don’t know,” He said shyly. “We were kind of just getting to know each other.”

“How did you meet?”

“At Splitz, I know a couple of her mates and we got chatting.”

“Would you have considered yourselves a couple?”

“No. Not really.”

Tyler was jotting a few things down and Reed knew it wasn’t the words that were being spoken she was taking notes of, it would be her reaction to the words, whether she believed him or not, had he looked uncomfortable, those sorts of things.

Reed’s own feelings told him that he had a very real suspect.

Chapter 6

The fluid that had been poured over Carmella Chapman’s body had been confirmed as bleach. Reed had received a phone call from the Wymondham Forensic Department last night telling him so. Although the department was on the same site as the police station, it took a whole lot of red tape to get any information. There was a fence similar to that of a prison, complete with razor wire on top, which surrounded the building. This was to stop anybody breaking in and tampering with or removing any evidence. Reed thought that it should be enough of a deterrent being at the back of Norfolk’s biggest police station, but what did he know? If he wanted to enter the unit for any reason, he had to get a pass issued from Whitehead. Getting an out of hours phone call was about as taboo as it got.

Reed was sat in his office trying to rub the sleepiness from his eyes. After he had taken the call from forensics last night he had called Tyler to let her know the news about the bleach. She had, in return, called him shortly after six this morning to tell him of something she had found. She had discovered a link between Carmella Chapman’s murder and that of another girl’s murder which had occurred in 2003. The body of Tina Westwood had been found less than 24 hours after she had gone missing in a small wooded area near a village called Ovington where the girl had lived with her parents.

Traces of bleach had been found on her chest and hands; it was a small amount, no more than you would have expected than if she had rested her hands on a freshly cleaned surface and shortly after touched her chest. At the time of the investigation the bleach had had no real significance; it wasn’t until now that it became potentially major. Something else that had piqued Reed’s interest was that Tina had only been wearing one earring when her body had been discovered and, from memory, Carmella hadn’t been wearing any despite her ears being pierced, which could mean nothing but most girls who had their ears pierced chose to decorate them for a night out. He would bear it in mind.

Tina Westwood was 17 years old at the time of her death. There was no obvious motive, no known enemies and as of yet there had been no conviction. Having told her parents she was going over to a friend’s house, she had left at around 6pm. She never arrived there and never came home again. Her friend hadn’t been expecting her and there had been very little hard evidence to work with. The police angled the investigation towards Tina meeting a boyfriend that nobody knew about, much to the disgust of her parents who insisted she wasn’t allowed one. The parent’s refusal to accept the possibility of a boyfriend enforced the police’s suspicion that she may have been keeping one a secret.

Her autopsy report showed that she had died from a single blow to the head with a blunt object, exactly the same way as Carmella was killed. The poor man who discovered her body was out on the Ovington fen walking his black Labrador when it disobeyed him for something more stimulating in one of the small forest areas just off the main track. When he went to investigate what it could be, he found Tina’s body.

Reed was trying to absorb as much information from the file that Tyler had compiled for him before driving to Tina Westwood’s parents’ house where he was meeting with Allison Mcleary, who had worked as the Family Liaison Officer at the time. He had asked her to attend because she was a familiar face and they needed to warn the family about the latest murder and the media attention it would bring. If the police had linked the two, the media wouldn’t be far behind, as per usual, and sometimes they were even ahead.

Reed parked on the brick-weave driveway behind a blue Ford Mondeo. The garden was neat and tidy with a huge willow tree as the main feature. The house was weathered like any other but no attempts had been made to rectify this. The paint on the windowsills had been left to flake and watermarks on the bricks revealed a broken drainpipe.

After greeting Reed, Mcleary led the way down the side of the house and rapped her knuckles on the door, despite there being a doorbell.

After a couple of seconds the door groaned open. Reed was surprised at the woman who poked her head out. Her greying hair was set into a lifeless bob and the fringe was cut in a straight horizontal line just above her eyebrows. When she felt safe enough to do so, she pulled the door open to reveal an old-fashioned floral dress, skin coloured tights and sensible black pumps. “Hello.” She offered a weak smile, “Please come in.”

“Thank you.” Mcleary replied before stepping in.

Mrs Susan Chapman stopped in the hallway and offered Reed a shy smile as a way of a hello before turning her attention back to Mcleary, “Please come through. Make yourselves comfortable and I’ll fetch some tea.”

As Reed was about to turn left into the lounge, he noticed a figure at the end of the hall moving from one side of a doorway to the other. The man, presumably Alan Westwood, glanced briefly in his direction but didn’t acknowledge that anybody was there, an empty expression set on his face. Reed guessed having your daughter murdered could do that.

Reed joined Mcleary in the lounge and Susan hurried down towards the kitchen. Faint whispering began instantly but the male’s raspy voice made no effort to hide itself, “I know that!” He said. Reed guessed the police presence in his house had finally been acknowledged.

With Mcleary settling into the comfort of an armchair, Reed took in his surroundings, the room felt small despite it running from the front to the back of the house. The light was on and the curtains were open but the room still felt dingy. It wasn’t dirt; in fact the room seemed well kept, somewhere near spotless. He wondered if it had more to do with the age of the decor. The wallpaper reminded him of an Indian restaurant he had dined at once. The TV was black and big, needing a separate cabinet of its own to sit on, not like the flat screen ones available now that could be hung on the wall to free up valuable space that was then left empty anyway.

Susan came in holding a tray, which Reed suspected had been prepared way in advance of their scheduled appointment. She sat it down on the coffee table and issued them with their cups.

“Sugar?” Susan asked looking at Reed.

“Two, please.”

“Still just the one for you, Allison?”

“Yes, although I’m not trying to keep my figure anymore, I’m trying to get it back!”

Susan laughed and waved the joke away to let her know she was being silly. Reed agreed with her. Mcleary was slim, attractive, and at 40 years old had an excellent figure. Reed, on the other hand, felt he was a little too tubby for a 38 year old. Mcleary had never been married or had children and never intended to either. She had informed Reed of this a few years ago whilst they had both been on the same training course. At lunchtimes they would take the short walk to the Whiffler pub and share a meal and a couple of drinks together. Socially their paths had never crossed again but they enjoyed working together.

Just as Susan finished pouring and stirring the drinks, Alan Westwood came in and sat down on a chair with the same demeanor as a young child who had been dragged to a particularly ugly aunt’s house where they would be showered with kisses. After another cup of tea had been poured and handed to him, Alan’s eyes settled on something towards the centre of the room on the floor. After trying to follow his line of his vision a full three times, Reed was still unsure what exactly he was looking at. The presence of the man brought an uneasy feeling to the room.

Susan looked to Allison to break the silence which she wasn’t about to do, so she looked to Reed, passing the responsibility to him.

“As I mentioned on the phone Mrs Westwood, we’re here to liaise with you regarding the murder of Carmella Chapman, just so you...”

“Did she kill Tina?” Alan cut in with enough volume to interrupt Reed but not enough so anyone could really hear the words.

“Sorry?” Reed looked to Alan, who stayed focused on the centre of the floor.

“DID. . . SHE. . . KILL. . . TINA?” Alan asked in a manner as though he were speaking to a foreign infant.

“We have absolutely no reason to suspect so sir.” Reed replied trying to keep his composure.

“Then I really don’t see what it’s got to do with us?”

“Alan!” Susan shrieked, letting him know in one word the embarrassment he was causing her.

Reed didn’t know the visit was of any good to the Westwoods either, the murder of another young girl reigniting the pain of ten years ago.

“Unfortunately there are similarities to Tina’s murder,” Mcleary took over, “No doubt the press will be linking them together and highlighting all the connections. I’m sure there will be some facts, but there will be some speculation thrown in for good measure. DI Reed and I wanted to warn you not to take too much notice as we understand that something like this could stir up a lot of old feelings for you both.”

“That is very considerate of you.” Susan said gratefully.

“Well, one thing I would like to point out,” Alan said calmly, finally looking up at Reed. “If it is a serial killer, which is what I’m guessing the press are going to suggest, it just highlights that you should have caught him in the first place.”

“Alan, please!” Susan shrieked again.

“It’s OK, Susan. We understand that this is upsetting. Alan, the investigation into your daughter’s death has never stopped. It never will.” Mcleary tried.

“No, I’m sure if the killer hands himself in, you’ll wrap it up a treat.”

“Excuse my husband, Detective.” Susan pleaded.

“No need. It’s fine. There’s no evidence of a serial killer, just some connections that could amount to nothing. That said, the press will link them together just to dramatise the story, things like the location and the fact they were both females around the same age. What we will do is give you any new information regarding your daughter’s murder so please try to ignore any speculation you might read or hear. If you have any doubts, any at all, give Allison a call or you can reach me on this number.” Reed stood and put his card on the table, making it clear it was time to leave. Alan stayed where he was, refocusing on the floor once again.

Susan saw them out and thanked them for their visit. She apologised again for her husband. Reed and Mcleary reassured her there was no need.

“What an asshole!” Reed said as soon as the door was shut.

“Don’t take it personally, he never thought too much of the police at the time.”

“His daughter was murdered and we never caught whoever was responsible, I get that. It left him with no-one to blame. As a parent, I think you must blame yourself a little no matter what the circumstances; maybe you feel that you should have taken more of an interest in her life so you knew what she was doing, just something you could have done differently. When you can’t take the guilt anymore, you take it out on the police because we’re there and within reach.”

After a few seconds, Mcleary asked Reed, “Do you think you’re dealing with the same killer?”

“The similarity between the two is obvious. My worry is that it could just be coincidence and we’ll try too hard to make them fit together. It’s been ten years and bleach is a very common product after all.”

“Two girls of a similar age, then there’s the proximity and similarity of the two areas, and yes, the bleach. You’ve got to admit it’s a strong connection.”

“I do admit it. What I don’t understand is why wait for ten years to do it again? I’m no expert but I’m pretty sure serial killers don’t wait ten years between kills.”

“They could be on the move but used this milestone to return.”

“Nationally and internationally there isn’t a pattern. Not involving bleach anyway. As for the anniversary theory, I still don’t think they could wait that long.”

“Any links between the two girls, a friend or teacher?

“Not that we know of. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t any. They were a similar age when they died but that happens to be ten years apart.”

Reed had done all the mundane chores that were required of him back at the Wymondham headquarters. The paperwork was all done for the day. Even as a Detective Inspector, Reed still had his fair share of paperwork, if not more than someone of a lower rank.

Now he was going to do two jobs in one go. He was taking his car to Butlers Motor Services. First reason being that his Volvo V40 was still not running as it should. It had developed a kind of split personality, working fine one day and struggling the next. The second reason being, it was the garage where David Jones worked. Jones was at the same nightclub as Carmella Chapman on the night she went missing. He also very quickly informed the police that Lee Gulliver had given Carmella a lift home that evening. The garage itself was located in Thetford; if they needed to keep the car overnight, Reed could call Kate to pick him up.

Reed was naturally suspicious of people; it was part of the job. It could be that Jones was just doing his best to help but unfortunately there was a surprising amount of people that could spot an opportunity to cause an old enemy some grief, or worse, direct any unwanted attention away from them. Until Reed had spoken to Jones himself, he couldn’t get a feel for his intentions.

The garage was much the same as any other private garage- dirty looking. A roller shutter door had a few dents in it and the small yard was bumper to bumper with cars. Even with Reed’s limited knowledge, it was obvious some of them were way beyond repair. He wasn’t entirely sure where to park without being in the way, so he gave up and parked directly in front of an open door hoping this would be a good way to get someone’s attention. When nobody was forthcoming to complain about his somewhat selfish positioning, he got out of his car and strayed into the main workshop.

“Be with you in a minute, mate.” A faceless voice said.

Reed didn’t feel the need to reply. As he stood looking around, he really didn’t understand why most garages had their interior walls painted white of all colours. Surely the fumes and oil were always going to win that particular battle.

“What can we do for you?” The voice spoke again, this time accompanied by a face. A face covered in grease, no older than 30. The square jaw and perfectly kept, short, spiky hair fitted in just right with the gym toned torso that was on show from the rolled down overalls.

“I’m Detective Inspector Reed. I’m looking for David Jones.”

“That’s me.” Jones admitted with a concerned look on his face.

“I was hoping you could spare me a few minutes regarding the night Carmella Chapman went missing?”

“Yes. Sure. I’ll take an early break.”

“Is there somewhere we could take a seat?” Reed asked.

“Yeah, sorry, you’ve got me all worried. I’m not thinking straight, this way.”

Jones led the way to a small office at the back of the garage. On the short walk to the office, he obviously felt the need to untie his overalls from around his waist and put them up over his shoulders and onto his arms. After he buttoned them up, they covered his whole body like they were designed to. Reed could only presume that he done this because of the present company-the garage was stuffy with lingering car fumes making the air feel thicker and warmer than it was outside so Reed wasn’t surprised that Jones had rolled his overalls down.

The office itself was windowless, fashioned from sheets of plasterboard to gain some privacy from the main workshop. There were sheets of paper pinned to every available space, a rail of key hooks, some occupied, some not. They sat on the only two chairs available.

“Like I said, there’s nothing to worry about, just a few questions. Did you know Carmella well?”

“Not really. We had a couple of mutual friends, spoke now and again.”

“Was Lee Gulliver a mutual friend?”

Jones lowered his head, just for a moment. He scratched at his ankle before returning eye contact. Reed took this to be a sign that maybe they weren’t friends, or at the very least, Jones needed to get the following words correct.

“Not anymore. We used to be. We were in the same year at school and we used to hang out sometimes.”

“I understand.” Reed said honestly, thinking of the friends he had lost contact with over the years. “You were very quick in telling the police that Carmella had left the club with Lee. Did you have any reason to be worried for her safety?”

“I saw on the news that she had gone missing and remembered them leaving together, that’s all. I mean, he drives like a madman in that car of his, they could have ended up in a ditch or something.”

“So you have no reason to believe he would intentionally harm her?”

“I s’pose not. Not kill her anyway!” Jones was now wearing the look of someone who was dying to say something, almost willing Reed to drag it out of him. A bit like a child trying to hold on to a secret, he was fidgeting too.

“I get the impression you’re holding something back?”

“It’s just an opinion.”

“Opinions are welcome, and confidential.”

Jones bowed his head, scratching at what was probably an imaginary itch on his ankle again. He took a deep breath but rather than go into the rant Reed was expecting, he slowly exhaled. “He likes to think he’s a bit of a ladies’ man. I say ladies’ man, it’s more like girls.” Jones now sat back in his chair. Reed just waited.

“He’s 32 and Carmella was 17. That’s nearly double her age. There have been others too, which I’m sure weren’t even that old!” Jones continued. “I just don’t think, personally, that it’s right, that’s all.”

“What others?” Reed asked.

“I don’t know. Like I said, we aren’t close anymore.” Jones answered. His tone suggesting he was starting to doubt his own theories.

“‘Anymore’? Meaning you were close once?”

“Look, the truth is we were best friends until he tried making a move on my sister. It was a time when she wouldn’t have been legal, if you see what I mean?”

“That’s why you aren’t friends anymore?

“Basically yeah, he’s a borderline paedophile if you ask me.”

Chapter 7

DC Plumridge entered the office sounding out of breath and his cheeks were glowing red. Reed had been talking to DS Tyler about his visit to Butler’s Garage and his chat with David Jones last night. When Plumridge saw the look on his superior’s face, he was quick to apologise for barging in.

“Sorry sir.” He managed to puff out, waving a piece of paper around as way of conversation until he could catch his breath and speak for real. “I’ve got the results back from the speed cameras you asked for. Guess who they picked up?”

“Mr. Gulliver?” Tyler asked, taking the surprise-factor away from Plumridge, along with the joy of doing so away from Reed.

“Yeah, but . . .” Plumridge had a reserve surprise which he struggled to get the air in his lungs to say. “Does Nic Anderson ring any bells?”

“No.” Came the mutual reply from Tyler and Reed. Plumridge’s breathing went up a notch again.

“He’s a convicted sex attacker, relocated to Thetford from up north four years ago for his own safety. We got him speeding too.”

The lack of excitement from his audience shot him back down to earth.

“Can you get me his records please? As quick as you can.” Reed requested.

“Yes sir. I’ll do it now.”

Plumridge handed Reed the list of people caught by speed cameras in the area of where Carmella’s body had been dumped on the night she was killed. They had covered a 25 mile radius of Thetford- Reed’s simplistic thinking being that if he had just killed someone, he wouldn’t want to hang around and might miss a speed camera as he drove away, whether it had been premeditated or not.

“Well done by the way.” Reed said, offering Plumridge the praise he was desperately seeking. Satisfied, Plumridge left with the same gusto with which he had arrived.

“You’re cruel.” Tyler teased.

“What?”

“‘As quick as you can’ indeed. He’ll kill himself if he goes any quicker.”

“He loves a challenge, does Plummy.” Reed defended himself.

They both smiled at each other. Reed, feeling their eye contact lasting just a little too long, turned his attention to the list in his hand but didn’t really read it; he just scanned the words for something to do.

“No sexual assault on either girl sir.” Tyler stated, not sharing Plumridge’s excitement over Nic Anderson.

“Doesn’t mean he didn’t try I suppose, but he’s only been in the area for four years as far as we know, and Tina Westwood was killed ten years ago. It’ll be interesting to know why he was relocated here; perhaps he’s got family or friends in the area. He might have visited back then.”

“Hard to believe any family or friends would actually want him near them.”

“Maybe they don’t get a choice. I’d guess a lot of people would have been happy to see Anderson leave his northern roots and more than willing to set him up elsewhere, no matter how weak the reasoning behind it.” Reed knew that if he could shift Anderson somewhere else, he would. In fact, he’d shift a lot of people.

There were undeniable similarities between the two cases and perhaps Anderson, or someone else, had been present in the area at the time of both murders. But he still couldn’t rule out the possibility that there were two killers, not at this stage.

“Have you looked at the report I left on your desk?” Tyler asked.

“Well, I was just about to when you came in,” he said, tongue firmly in cheek. “If you’ll allow me, I’ll take a look now.”

Tyler got comfortable in her chair. “Quiet as a mouse.” She said and crossed her heart with her finger.

Reed started to study the report. It was something to do with the bleach found on Carmella’s body. That much he could work out for himself, other than that he couldn’t understand a thing it meant and he suspected Tyler knew it wouldn’t. That was probably the reason why she had come to his office in the first place. Now she was watching him try to work it out, enjoying every minute of his confusion. After looking at the report for some time, he wasn’t even sure if some of the words were English.

“What the hell does all this mean?” He finally snapped.

Tyler was up before he had even finished his sentence, making her way around his desk so she could point out what she so evidently knew and he didn’t.

“Basically it’s a list of bleach manufacturers and the ingredients they use. This bit here is what the bleach is called, then underneath is the ingredients and the percentage of their content.” Tyler explained. She looked down at Reed to assess his face for understanding. Noncommittal, she carried on anyway. “At the end of the day bleach is bleach, so in order to avoid any copyright problems each company will use a slightly different percentage of each ingredient.”

Reed was keeping up so far, faring much better than he had expected. When Tyler first leaned over him, all he noticed was how close she had gotten. She had moved right into his back to reach the papers in his hand, her contact making him feel a little uncomfortable. When she had started speaking he focused hard on her words.

“And this is relevant how?”

“We have a match on the bleach that was found on Carmella’s body. It’s the same as that found on Tina’s.” Tyler said.

“Which is what brand?” Reed asked whilst moving his finger over the sheets in front of him.

“Well that’s the interesting bit; it’s made by a company based in Thetford. A little close to home, don’t you think? I mean, it’s sold all around the country but it’s a start. The company name is Gleen.”

“It is a start.” Reed agreed, satisfied they at least had something to go on.

“Do you want me to arrange an appointment?”

“Yes. Could you chase Plummy up for me as well please, make sure he hasn’t had a heart attack whilst chasing up that file?”

“If he has, I’ll be calling you to do the mouth to mouth.”

Reed was having lunch with Kate at 1.30pm. He had booked a table at the White Hart pub in Attleborough. He didn’t know if he needed to book but it wasn’t worth the risk of turning up and there being no tables available.

Waiting in the car park he was pretty sure there hadn’t been any need to book. There were only four other cars there and some of those must have been staff. Kate had phoned to say she was running a little late. He would give her five minutes before going in alone. It was a lovely day and the sun was shining. There was a gentle breeze blowing in through the windows of the car and he was in no hurry to go indoors.

After lunch he had planned to visit Butler’s garage again to check if his car was done. David Jones had told him that it would be ready by the end of today if he could get the alternator in for the morning. Reed had warned Tyler that she might need to get a lift out here so she could drive his borrowed car back to headquarters. So that he could crowbar her help into the category of work, she was to look over Nic Anderson’s file and the speed camera data, and fill him in when she arrived.

Kate drove into the car park a little too quickly for his liking before swinging her 4x4 into the space next to him. She looked thinner just recently; she needed to slow down a little and eat more so he was pleased she had accepted his invitation. He pecked her on the cheek and asked her if she fancied eating alfresco. When she agreed, they picked an outside table that was situated under the shadow of a tree. After a couple of minutes of Kate scanning the menu inbetween text messages she was reading and typing, he went inside to order the food. Despite the lack of trade he still had to wait for a couple who couldn’t actually decide what they wanted. Rather than be polite and step aside, they took a good ten minutes to pick before paying by card; trying to pay by card that is, finally getting the pin number correct on the second attempt, with the second card.

Reed ordered rump steak as he always did when they ate out; his excuse being that they never seemed to have it home. Kate argued they never had it at home because he always had it when they were out. His wife had chosen pasta and salad but of more concern was the rose wine options and he wasn’t to just order the cheapest. When he returned with their drinks, they spoke about their days so far: Reed had been buoyed by the news about the bleach. Kate was complaining about the farmer next to her stables who had positioned his bird scarer as close as he could to the horse’s paddocks causing even the level headed ones to spook.

Reed left part of his steak after images of Carmella’s autopsy had flickered through his head. It had been a long time since they last ate out, just the two of them, and he was confused as to why he had arranged this for today of all days. There was no anniversary or birthday to celebrate; he just wanted to buy his wife lunch. He had enjoyed watching her as she had eaten. The weather was lovely and the birds were singing so he was a little disappointed when she looked up from her phone and said, “I’ll have to shoot off, I’ve got a stack of payments that need chasing, all the horses are on edge and with all things taken into account, so far today I’ve achieved bugger all!”

“I can’t tempt you into having a pudding?”

“No, I’d better not; I don’t have the time, or the figure.”

It annoyed Reed when she said things like that. She was a size six for Christ’s sake. She had always loved any kind of pudding up until recently, normally the more calories the better.

“I thought you might like the double chocolate cake?”

“Oh I’d love it. I just don’t have the time; you know what it’s like at the stables. It was lovely though.” Kate gathered her bag and phone before she kissed him on the cheek. “See you later.”

“Yep, see you later.” Reed replied, feeling the meal had been more of an inconvenience for her than it had him.

He was just finishing his glass of coke when his phone rang. The screen warned him it was Tyler.

“Sorry to disturb your meal but I’ve noticed something about the speed cameras.”

“Don’t worry about it, Kate’s just left.”

“I don’t blame her.”

“Ha bloody ha, why don’t you get over here and you can tell me face to face?”

“OK. Don’t you put yourself out will you sir? Have a drink on me.”

“Thanks. I will. A pint of their finest coke, so don’t you forget your purse.” Reed said before hanging up so he couldn’t hear her complain.

When Tyler came into the car park, Reed gave her a wave and got himself ready to go. He walked over to the car just as she was saying thanks to Plumridge who had driven her here.

“You can drive.” Reed said, throwing the keys to her.

“That’s a shame, I could get used to this, being driven around.”

“Well, if you had got here a bit sooner and bought me that drink I might have considered driving you around but that deal is closed. If I drink one more my urine will be fizzy so you can keep your money and you can drive.”

They got in the car and Tyler took them onto the A11 towards Thetford, explaining what she had found out from the speed camera reports.

“That’s why I asked Plumridge for a lift; I know he was in on the first interview with Lee Gulliver. Plummy confirmed the route Gulliver said he took Carmella home and it doesn’t include the speed camera he was caught on.”

“What time was he was caught speeding?” Reed asked eagerly.

“11.50pm, it’s the one thing that does add up. That time matches his statement on when they left the club. He said they left about half eleven. The club’s CCTV has them leaving at 11.23pm.”

“Where was he caught speeding?”

“The Bury Road. He didn’t take the A11 like he said. He drove straight past Thetford Common!”

“The lying little shit!”

Tyler pulled into Butler’s garage and parked the car. Neither of them moved to get out of the car.

“We know Carmella didn’t have sex but it doesn’t mean they didn’t stop off for a bit of a fondle somewhere.” Tyler suggested.

“That could well be but why bloody lie about it? And why lie about the route he took Carmella home, if he took her home?”

His car was ready but David Jones wasn’t in work; he had gone to the dentist. Reed wasn’t too disappointed about this. His head was spinning with the new information regarding Gulliver’s route home. Reed told Tyler to drive his borrowed car back to headquarters and book it in for him, then to check Gulliver’s earlier statement just to be absolutely sure about his version of the journey he and Carmella took home.

He also told her not to mention anything to DCI Whitehead. He wanted time to think about whether to bring Gulliver into the station or to pay him a surprise visit at home.

Reed knew that with some people the journey to a police station could get the butterflies going in their stomach and by the time the interview started they would be ready to tell all with very little probing. On the other hand, depending on each individual personality, they could use the time in the car to get a cover story ready for any line of questioning.

Reed didn’t know which approach to take with Gulliver. The one big advantage any liar had was knowledge. They knew why they were lying and more importantly they knew the truth. A surprise visit at least meant Gulliver would have to think on his feet, the only drawback being that any slip ups in his story wouldn’t be good enough for evidence in court, Gulliver could just deny it and they would have to prove it.

Reed got back to Wymondham headquarters shortly after Tyler. He had decided it would be best to visit Gulliver at home, reveal what they knew, then take him to the station. He would tell DCI Whitehead what he was doing, even he couldn’t disagree with this course of action. In fact, he would probably be happy that they finally had something to go on.

They pulled up to Gulliver’s flat and were pleased to see his car parked outside. Reed had bought Tyler and Plumridge with him. The more eyes on Gulliver the better; it made people uncomfortable. Plummy used his plump fist to good effect, almost rattling the door off its hinges as he knocked. When Gulliver opened the door, it wasn’t shock on his face, it was more like disappointment.

“Alright?” Gulliver enquired.

“Just fine thank you. Can we come in?” Tyler replied.

“S’pose so.”

After being led to the lounge, Plumridge stood looking out of the window, Tyler avoided taking a seat after her last visit here, and Reed sat in a chair opposite Gulliver to allow him direct eye contact.

“I understand you have something you want to tell us.”

“What? No! Who the fuck said that? They’re talking shit.”

“Alright Lee, calm down. What makes you think someone told us anything?” Reed asked, surprised by his angry reaction.

“Well they must have done, why else would you be here? Huh, unless you’re getting desperate?

“On the contrary, we’re making steady progress.”

“Good. You can leave me alone then. Shit sticks you know, you lot keep coming round, I’m gonna have a kicking coming my way, guilty or not.”

“You keep swearing in front of my colleagues and that kicking might come quicker than you think.” Plumridge threatened, still looking out of the window. Reed looked over at his bulk silhouetted at the window and it seemed a valid threat, although he knew it wasn’t going to happen. Plumridge wouldn’t hurt anyone but he could play the part well enough.

“Sorry, but I’ve told you everything I know.”

“Everything you wanted to tell us you mean.” Tyler said.

“What. . . What do you mean?”

“You said on the night of Carmella’s disappearance you left Newmarket, took the A11 all the way to the Wretham roundabout, turned on the A1075 to Thetford before you dropped Carmella off at the end of Bridgeham Road, is that correct?” Reed asked.

“If that’s what I said, then yeah.”

“It is what you said but it’s not what happened.”

“What. . .” Gulliver tried speaking but Reed’s raised hand told him to stop.

“I suggest you think very carefully before you say another word.”

Gulliver took Reeds advice, he made a show of leaning back into the sofa and his eyes were fixed firmly on the floor. Plumridge was still looking out of the window. Reed and Tyler looked straight at Gulliver, somehow hoping to see into this man’s brain, see what his thoughts were and if Gulliver could feel them in there it might prompt him to blurt out the truth.

“I’m sorry, OK? I panicked, I must have got confused. That is the route I thought we took, and it’s the way I normally go. You’re right though, I remember now. We turned off at the Elveden crossroads because we were going to go to the garage but we didn’t in the end. I don’t know why not.” Gulliver burst into tears. “What happens to me now?”

“That depends on whether you can convince us that what you’re saying now is the truth. I have my doubts so it could take some time. You’re going to come with us to the station and have a formal interview. I don’t expect you will want me to arrest you so you’ll be coming voluntarily to help us with our inquiries. Then you’re going to sit down with DC Plumridge here and try to convince him.”

Finally Plumridge turned round and looked straight at Gulliver before saying, “And at some point you’re going to have to pay a speeding fine too.”

Chapter 8

Nicholas Michael Anderson had been caught on the same speed camera as Lee Gulliver, just eight minutes behind. He was a convicted sex attacker and it just so happened that he lived in the same block of flats as Gulliver, meaning he could have taken the same route home and it potentially placed him in the vicinity of Carmella when she was dropped off.

Reed wasn’t too put off by the fact that Carmella had not been sexually assaulted. He had studied Anderson’s files and there were two convictions of sexual assault; one on a 15 year old girl in a park late at night. The other was against a 20 year old woman that took place in a car park behind a supermarket. In each case the women had been groped through their clothing and the younger victim had also suffered the indignity of him being inside her with his fingers.

The attacks had been 18 months apart with the youngest victim first. In the second attack, the victim had been punched in the head resulting in a black eye. In her statement she was proud that she hadn’t let him get his own way, screaming as loud as she could, lashing out as hard as she could, resulting in her attacker getting frustrated and hitting out at her. That didn’t stop her continuing her fight and in the end, he relented and ran off. Reed, without meeting her, wanted to shake her hand, somehow proud of a woman he had never met.

Anderson was given a combined six years for the attacks but served only four. It would have been three but he was involved in a fight whilst in prison for which he claimed self-defense. On his release he was put on a course of drugs to suppress his sexual urges. He also had regular counselling which he was still attending every month up until a year ago.

The fact that Carmella had no physical signs of sexual assault didn’t really mean anything. He could have groped her which wouldn’t have necessarily left any marks or he could have been disturbed before being able to satisfy his desires. Carmella had been described as sporty and fit by family and friends so perhaps wouldn’t have been the easiest of targets. The scrapings taken from her fingernails at the autopsy showed no sign that she had scratched at her attacker and Reed wondered if fear could have frozen her solid.

Anderson was picked up at his home address, a flat that was separated from Gulliver’s by one other. Was it just coincidence that they lived so close? Did they know one another? Was this a team attack? Was either of them involved at all, in either murder?

Reed pushed the questions from his mind and entered the interview room, followed by Tyler, where Anderson was waiting. He was stood backed into the furthest corner away from the door. His head was hanging in such a way that it gave the impression his neck was too weak to hold it up. Anderson somehow found more shadows than were really there. When he did finally look up, his eyes seemed to beam like little torches from his gaunt face. With his dull clothes swamping his tall skinny frame, he could have passed as a makeshift clothes hanger. If Reed wasn’t expecting to find a human in there somewhere he doubted he would have noticed him at all.

“Please sit down Mr. Anderson.” Reed said, taking a seat himself.

Anderson seemed to slide out of the shadows like a snake from under a rock. His hair looked like a string mop head; it was shoulder length and it sat heavy with grease. He pulled out a chair opposite Reed and sat down, looking at the surface of the table. Reed had asked Tyler to join the interview and ask a few questions of her own, just to see what his reaction was to a woman.

Tyler did the formalities with the tapes and introductions. Anderson had not wanted a solicitor present. He had been told that he wasn’t under arrest but that the interview would be recorded and could be used as evidence.

“I’m Detective Inspector Reed and we would just like to ask you a few questions. I hope you don’t mind?”

Anderson looked up slowly to Reed, then to Tyler, then back to Reed before giving the faintest of shakes of his head to indicate that he didn’t.

“For the purpose of the tape, Mr. Anderson shook his head indicating: no.” Tyler said. She looked straight at him, trying to provoke him to look at her. He was making her feel sick. It was hard to stay impartial when you knew what someone had done.

“We would like to know where you were on the evening of the 27th of July 2013?”

“I went for a drink at the Red Lodge pub and after that I went home.”

The room was silent as Reed and Tyler shared a look. The voice they had just heard was that of a small boy rather than the man sat before them. It was soft and high pitched.

“You seem very sure; was it a special night, a night to remember?”

“No.”

“Did you meet anyone at the Red Lodge?” Reed continued.

“No. I go there because nobody knows me, it’s what I like. The landlord should know my face by now, you could ask him.”

“We will. After you left the Red Lion, what did you do then?” Tyler asked, there was still no adverse reaction from Anderson about being questioned by a woman and he was happy enough to answer her.

“I went home.”

“Straight home?” Tyler asked before Anderson had barely finished his answer.

There was a pause from Anderson as he slowly lifted his head and looked at Tyler. It wasn’t anything sinister, but something was there turning her stomach further. “Yes, straight home.”

“And what route did you take?” Tyler asked, they knew at least part of his journey.

“From the Red Lodge I headed to the A11. I turned off at the Elveden crossroads and then I came into Thetford on the Diss Road to my flat.” Anderson said, including the road he was caught speeding on, unlike Gulliver. Unfortunately it didn’t take him close to Bridgeham Road where Carmella was supposedly dropped off.

Reed purposely left the room quiet and when Anderson looked up wondering where the next question was coming from, Reed locked eyes with him. This lasted a good 10 seconds and Anderson didn’t flinch. He must have had more than his fair share of people staring at him and being questioned by the police was nothing new. Reed was beginning to wonder if this man ever blinked and he noticed there was a little smirk set on his face; had it had always been there or was he laughing at the attempt to intimidate him?

“Do you have any idea why we wanted to talk to you?” Reed asked.

“I have an idea, yes.”

“What’s this idea of yours then?”

“Probably to do with my past,” Anderson said, holding Tyler’s gaze for a moment before continuing, “and the fact that a young girl has been murdered. I didn’t think it would take too long before I got dragged in.”

“Yes, that’s part of it. But there is the small matter of her body being dumped at Thetford Common, an area you would have passed on your way home. Throw in the fact that she was killed some time close, very close in fact, to when you were on the road and we have a whole lot of coincidences going on.”

Anderson glanced from one officer to another before finally blinking, a blink that made up for all the time that he hadn’t done. It was exaggerated; his eyes screwed up to the size of peas, and then reopened to that same wide stare. Reed thought this was Anderson’s first sign of emotion and it made him wonder why? Still Anderson didn’t speak.

“We caught you speeding on the A1075, we know what time you headed home. What we would also like to know is why the rush? Especially as it’s a road you say you use frequently, surely you must have known there was a speed camera there?” Reed changed his questions to implications now. “Or maybe, it isn’t your normal route. Maybe you had to change your normal route and now you’re telling a few lies.”

Anderson started to shift in his chair, his cheeks were reddening and his eyes were flitting between the two detectives in front of him. Reed let the room fall silent again, he wanted Anderson to process the information he just received. If he was lying, the silence might prompt him to tell the truth.

After a few minutes of silence, Tyler, who had been taking notes on a pad, set her pen down slowly, then said in a gentle voice “Look at me, Mr. Anderson.”

Shyly, doing as he was told, he settled his eyes on Tyler. His blinking was more frequent now, it still looked like he was putting all his effort into it. Maybe it was a nervous tic. Tyler knew that they had made him uncomfortable; she sat forward so her elbows were resting on the table, closing the gap between them slightly before resting her chin in her hands. She reminded Reed of a lovestruck teenager taking in her idol. Then she whispered, “We can place you at the scene of where Carmella was found at a time that coincides with her death. I know how young girls can be; maybe she led you on before spurning your advances. You were frustrated, angry and hurt; she was toying with you. I believe you lost control and you hit out at her. You didn’t mean to kill her. You panicked. You tried to hide her body. Is that what happened?”

Anderson’s eyes started to flit around again. Tyler held hers straight on him. “No.” He whispered back to her.

“I believe it was. A crime of passion of sorts, a jury will be sympathetic to that.”

“No.” There was nervousness to his reply. At being caught? Or being framed?

“It adds up,” Reed added, “Had you become acquainted with her when she visited Lee Gulliver’s, a neighbour of yours? Had you struck up a rapport with her as you passed her in and around the flats?”

“No.” Anderson still wasn’t raising his voice but his blinking reflex was in overdrive making up for lost time.

Reed wanted the man to break. A reaction was simmering below the surface and he wanted to see that reaction start to boil. He stood up, “As my colleague has said, we have a fair amount of circumstantial evidence. I am sure we have enough to at least get a search warrant for your home and I wonder what we’ll find there, even if it doesn’t relate to this. When you factor in your history, well...”

Bolting up to match Reed’s height, Anderson sent his chair flying across the room, crashing against the wall. “It wasn’t fucking me!” The force at which Anderson shouted sent saliva shooting from his mouth, his spittle like bullets as they flew through the beam of the overhead light.

Tyler stood now, not sure what to do. Reed gave it a few seconds of being face to face with Anderson before making to leave the room, touching Tyler’s arm to indicate that she should do the same. Anderson stayed upright watching them go.

Reed and Tyler hovered around outside the interview room trying to digest all that had just happened in a mutual silence. Anderson had displayed the demeanor of someone trying to stay in control but he just proved he could be provoked. There had been a real evil in his eyes. Had Carmella somehow provoked him too? Had she pushed him so far as to be attacked?

“Tell him he can leave but I want him watched.”

Chapter 9

Plumridge had interviewed Gulliver at the same time as Reed and Tyler had been busy with Anderson. Gulliver was maintaining that he was initially mistaken about the route that he had taken Carmella home. He had also maintained that he kept the story going because he was scared about being mixed up in Carmella's disappearance. Those lies had now put him slap bang in the middle of the investigation. As frustrating as it was though, they didn't really have anything else on him but it did make him their number one suspect.

Reed slept fitfully that night; Anderson’s interview had stirred him awake at regular intervals. There was no doubting that there was a troubling evil engrained in the man but there were questions that Reed couldn’t foresee the answers to. Did Carmella know Anderson? It was doubtful, other than passing one another around the flats where Gulliver and Anderson both lived. If she didn’t know him, how did he manage to entice or force her to go with him without a witness spotting something? If he had followed her until she was alone, why hadn’t he attacked her in the small patch of woodland at the end of Bridgeham Road? Anderson’s previous would suggest a sexual motivation for an attack and there had been no obvious signs of a struggle.

This morning, Reed and Tyler had an appointment at the Gleen factory. The bleach that was found on Carmella's and Tina's bodies had been produced here and although it could just be a coincidence, the company was in Thetford where Carmella had lived and where her body was found. Tina’s body had been found less than 14 miles away from the bleach factory.

They were meeting with Steve Garrood, the man who owned the company. Mr. Garrood had explained on the phone that he had been distraught by the news of Carmella's death; he had a son the same age and felt it was a little too close to home.

“What do we know about Mr. Garrood?” Reed asked, knowing full well that Tyler would have done some background checks.

“He's worked his way up from nothing. He started the company in 1993 after being made redundant from his job at the time. He takes an interest in the local community, sponsoring various projects and donating generously to local charities. It's not just throwing his money around either; he actually turns up and helps too. He takes disadvantaged children fishing at The Nunnery in Thetford twice a year, paying for all the equipment from his own pocket.” Tyler said.

“How do you know all this stuff?” Reed asked.

“You've just got to know the right people.”

“ You Googled it then?”

“You bet.” Tyler said, a smile creeping over her face.

Reed smiled too.

After parking the car they headed towards the reception. Reed couldn't decide what he could smell but it was overpowering, burning into his nostrils. He knew Gleen made bleach but the aroma was more like a mixture of cleaning products. There was something about it he recognised but didn't know where from.

The lady behind reception was on the phone; she raised her hand to indicate that they should wait and Reed considered what their other options were and drew a blank. The reception was large, too large for the one desk and the huge yucca plant that occupied it. The walls were a simple magnolia and the white blinds were closed to keep out the sun. It was cool inside which was a welcome relief from the heat outside. The smell Reed had smelt outside had either eased or he was getting accustomed to it.

“Sorry about that,” The receptionist now spoke, “What can I do for you?”

“I'm DS Tyler and this is DI Reed, we've got an appointment with Mr. Garrood.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to have kept you; I'll see you through right away.” She stood up and made her way across the empty floor to a closed door, her high heels echoed around the sparse room as she moved. She gave the door a single rap with her knuckles and entered without being prompted.

“The police are here.” The receptionist announced, holding the door so that Reed and Tyler could go through.

“Hi, come in. Please take a seat, I'm Steve.”

“Thank you for seeing us Mr. Garrood.” Reed started.

“You're welcome, terrible situation.” Garrood shook his head before continuing “I have a son the same age. Terrible.”

“I do hope we're not wasting your time being here as I'm not sure if you can help us really. The only reason we're here is that there was bleach found on Carmella Chapman’s body.” Reed explained.

“Yes. I was told on the phone, by you, DS Tyler, I believe.”

“Yes.” Tyler confirmed.

“We don't want to mix your name or the company's name up in this, so we'll keep it low key.” Reed added.

“Don't worry about all that. If you think it will help, you can shout it from the rooftops for all I care. I'm serious, catching whoever did this is more important than our sales.”

“Thank you.” Reed said, aware that it was nice that the man had morals but how much easier it must be when you have already made your fortune.

“So what is it you need exactly?” Garrood asked.

“We would like a full list of employees, including any temporary staff you might have had covering the last six months.” Reed answered.

“Certainly, excuse me one moment.” Garrood picked up his phone and said, “Sue, can you get me a list of all the employees we've had over the last six months, including temps.” After a few moments of silence, Garrood continued “No. Leave that and get the list. Thanks.” Then he hung up.

“Thank you, we’ll look through the names and see if there is anyone of any interest. If there is, we might need to look at shift patterns for certain individuals.”

“Just let me know if you need them.”

“Have you noticed anyone acting strangely, perhaps having more time off or maybe being a bit quiet or just acting out of character?” Tyler asked.

“I really couldn't tell you I'm afraid. I'm ashamed to say I don't know half the workforce anymore. It’s not like it used to be, there were just a few of us in the beginning and we all felt like mates... Unfortunately along with a bit of success come barriers. A few of the workers have been here from the start but I don't get down on the shop floor much nowadays.”

“Not to worry Mr. Garrood.” Reed said sympathetically. Knowing that when he was made a Detective Inspector he had lost contact with old friends that were of a lower rank. It wasn't that he didn't want to see them anymore, their paths stopped crossing and he just never had the time out of work. He barely had the time for his own family as it was.

With nothing else to be discussed, Garrood called his receptionist and instructed her to come and see the officers out. He also told her to bring the list of employees, not giving her the option of saying that it wasn't ready, probably because he had never entertained the idea that it wouldn't be. The receptionist came through the door holding a brown envelope.

She led them back through the main office and held the front door for them. The heat was a shock after being in the cool, air-conditioned office and Reed felt drops of sweat starting to form on his back almost instantly. They crossed across the car park and Tyler approached the passenger door, waiting for Reed to unlock the car, but he didn't. He had stopped a few paces short of the car and looked frozen in time. The key fob was in his hand but he was focused on something else, glaring across the car park. Tyler followed his line of vision but all she could see were more cars.

“What is it?” She asked.

He didn't reply. He just stood there and kept staring.

“What?” Tyler tried again.

“That car.”

Tyler felt a bout of sarcasm about cars in car parks coming to her mouth but knew from the look on her boss’s face that it wouldn’t be welcome, “Which one are you talking about?”

“Look at the back row. Is there one you recognise?”

Tyler looked to the back row. She started at the far left-hand side and slowly panned to the right, similar to a bingo player scanning the columns of their bingo card. She focused on each car for a few seconds to see if it stirred some recognition.

About three quarters of the way along, she noticed it too.

DC Plumridge was sat at the dining table at the Chapman household. Reed had asked him to find out if Carmella was wearing any jewellery on the night she was murdered, curious as to why a young girl who had dressed up for the evening and who had had her ears pierced hadn’t donned any earrings. Plumridge hated having to visit the victim’s family, it made the whole thing too real. Normally he could detach himself a little by treating it as paperwork, just a file number. He liked it when he only met the bad guys; he enjoyed seeing their faces when they were arrested.

When meeting the victim's relatives he found it hard to focus on his job. He felt so sorry for them and he knew that nothing he could say or do would bring their loved ones back or ease their suffering. As that was the only thing the families really wanted, he often wondered what the point of it all was. The conviction of the person who took their loved one away from them was only a very small consolation.

Brenda Chapman sat a tray containing mugs of tea and a biscuit barrel on the table. Plumridge couldn't help noticing she was a pretty woman. She was in her late forties; her hair was shoulder-length and was the same colour as straw. She was slim, tall and her walk was elegant. He wondered if she could have been a model in her younger years. Despite some tasteful makeup, the red rings around her eyes showed the pain she had been suffering.

“I am very sorry to just turn up like this. There are just a few questions I need to ask.”

“It’s no trouble.” Brenda took a tissue from a box on the table and wiped her eyes. “To be honest, it's nice to be involved.”

“I wish there was more we could do. I feel useless just sitting here. I did think about offering a reward, what do you think?” Brian Chapman asked.

“It's not really for me to say, sir; you should probably speak to the Family Liaison Officer. Sometimes a reward brings its own trouble, people giving statements about any old thing in the hope that they'll hit the jackpot and that takes resources away from the real issue. On the other hand, even in terrible circumstances like these, it can be money which motivates people to come forward.”

After a short pause, Brian looked straight into Plumridge’s eyes, demanding he listen, “Money was what used to motivate me. This house, it was supposed to be our dream home. After all the years of work, building up our business, working all the hours we could just to buy this house, do it up, and then we were going to live happily ever after.” Brian looked around the room. He seemed to be looking at it with a certain amount of disgust. “Now it means nothing. All those hours I could have spent with my family instead of working, they've gone forever. Just like my little girl.” His voice broke on the last word of his sentence. He put his hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes.

Brenda put her arm around him before picking up her husband's conversation, making Plumridge feel worse with every word. “We just wanted to build a better future for all our family. Now with Carmella gone it all seems like it’s been a waste of time. I know we have Brett, and we love him very much. But Carmella will always be gone; there will always be a big hole in our lives.”

“I would give everything we own to have our daughter back, Detective.” Brian said, and Plumridge knew it was true. Unfortunately, no such deal could be struck.

“I know this is an extremely hard time for you both. If you would rather we don’t do this now, I understand.” Plumridge said, praying that they would let him leave. After a few hours he could knock off work and have a few drinks and get back to his ignorance. Reed or Mcleary could deal with this tomorrow.

“No, it's OK. Honestly.” Brian managed.

“Well it could be nothing really but we need to know if Carmella was wearing any jewellery on the night she went missing?”

Brian and Brenda shared a look. After thinking for a few moments, Brenda said, “I really can't remember.”

“Neither can I. How awful is that? We paid so little attention to our daughter ...” Brian started to cry again.

Wishing he had kept his mouth shut, Plumridge watched Brian physically shake as he wept. Brenda was more composed and took her time trying to recall the details of the last time she had seen her daughter alive. Each second that passed felt like an hour to Plumridge and he busied himself looking around the room.

“I would imagine she was wearing something.” Brenda started, “Whenever she went out she would always take pride in the way she looked. She always looked so beautiful.”

“She was so pretty.” Brian confirmed from behind his hands.

“So you think she might have been wearing jewellery?”

“I can't be certain. I could check her room if you like, see if anything is missing?”

Although Plumridge was going to suggest this at some point, he was having second thoughts; he wasn't sure he could handle being left alone with Brian, “If you wouldn't mind Mrs. Chapman.” He relented.

“Of course not.” Brenda rose from her seat; she wrapped her arms around her husband’s shoulders before kissing him on the top of his head. She half-smiled at Plumridge before leaving the room.

“I'm sorry, Detective. I just miss her so much.”

“Don't be sorry, I understand.”

Brian finally released his face from his arms, “How could someone do this? I thank God she wasn't... well you know, interfered with, but... I could understand it more you know? It seems someone killed her for nothing. Nothing.”

Plumridge couldn't think of anything to say. He wished he could, the silence was excruciating.

“Why do you want to know about Carmella's jewellery, if you don't mind me asking?” Brian enquired.

“We don't know if it's anything yet. We just thought the same as your wife. She might not have had any on, but if she did, we need to know.”

“Makes sense. Do you think someone took something from her?” Brian asked. His eyes were dry now but still looked red raw. There was a slight change to just a few seconds ago, his eyes had a slight sparkling of hope.

“I really can't say until we know she was wearing any, sir.”

“No of course not, I'm sorry.”

“We won’t hide anything from you Mr. Chapman. At the same time we don't want to give you any false hope. I do hope you understand.”

“I do.”

Luckily it was only a couple of minutes before Brenda came back in to the room. She didn't speak straight away. Plumridge didn't force her to. She looked puzzled.

“I can't be sure, but I think there is a pair of earrings missing. Brian, can you remember those stud earrings she kept wearing; we didn't know where they came from?”

“The ones she said were a present?”

“Yes, I can't find them. They could be somewhere I suppose but Carmella was very tidy, liked things organised. I can't see them in her jewellery box.”

Plumridge's heart started to beat a little faster. He tried to keep his voice steady, “Do you think you could give me a description, just in case?”

“Sure, they were just a basic stud really. Mainly gold, but they had a green stone in them. Me and Brian couldn't decide if they were really cheap or really expensive. We didn't tell Carmella that, of course. She was pleased with them and that's all that mattered.”

Plumridge made a note of this. “You say they were a gift, do you know who gave them to her?”

“Sorry, I don't, I never asked.” Brenda said, “We teased her about them but didn't push it.”

Plumridge thought about asking Brian if he had any idea, but given the vacant look on his face, he doubted he knew what day it was. “I don't suppose you would have a photo of Carmella wearing them, would you?”

“I really can't say. I don't think we have any recent photos, she only had them a few weeks.”

“Not to worry Mrs. Chapman. You've both been very helpful. Like I say, it might be nothing anyway. Thank you for your time, if the earrings do turn up, could you just let us know please?”

“Yes of course, thanks for coming round. It's nice to talk to someone.” Brenda gave a reserved smile as she finished her sentence. Plumridge couldn't help but think that what Brenda really meant, was that it was nice for someone to talk back. Plumridge could well believe that Brian sat there with a blank look on his face for hours on end.

Brian stayed where he was. Brenda saw Plumridge out. When he reached his car he decided it was time for a quick drink. He would buy a newspaper so he could read the sports section. He wanted to get back to his mundane feelings, not these real ones he was feeling right now.

Reed and Tyler had gone straight back to Steve Garrood's office, not stopping at reception to explain why.

“Yes, he's worked here since he left school.”

“Can we go and see him please?” Reed asked.

“Sure, is it to do with Carmella?”

“Maybe, I don't know yet.”

“I think he's working on dispatch these days, I'll take you over.”

They made their way across the car park in a quick walk. Then Garrood led them into a drab looking building through an open roller-shutter door. Various people in hard hats and fluorescent jackets began to look busy as they noticed the boss enter their workspace.

One person in the distance really picked up the pace. After taking a double-take at the three people heading his way, he turned and made his way to the right hand side of the room. He moved with purpose and the figure disappeared behind some boxes.

“Sir.” Tyler nodded in the man’s direction.

Reed pointed Tyler back towards the main door and headed for a walkway through some stacked boxes which were about halfway down the whole unit. The man in question would have to pass this gap if he was heading for the main door. Garrood carried on to his original destination which seemed to be a small office at the back, unaware of what was going on. Reed was about twenty metres from the far wall that he was aiming for when there was a flash, not a light, but something resembling a human as it sprinted past the walkway.

“Tyler!” Reed shouted. Then he set off after his quarry. As soon as he turned the corner, he could see the man heading for the main exit. Reed wasn't slow, he went to the gym a couple of times a week, tried to keep himself fit, but even at this early stage of the chase the gap between the two men was getting bigger. Reed had been sweating before he had started running, now the extra effort to run was causing it to pour from him, and he could feel his shirt sticking to his back.

“Tyler!” Reed tried again, desperation creeping into his voice.

The man was nearing the end of the boxes and then it would be only another few metres before he would be out of the factory. Reed was feeling slow and out of breath. Then, rather slowly but very carefully, a pallet truck was pushed out from behind the stack of boxes. The man was running so fast he had no time to adjust his stride. He managed to avoid the first fork, but no such luck with the second. He continued his run in midair before crashing hard to the floor. He didn't attempt to get up. He just rolled around holding his knee.

Slowly, and just as measured as the pallet truck, Tyler's head peeked from around the corner. Reed slowed to a walk, fighting to get his breath in the humid air. Although Reed couldn't hear Tyler over the thumping sound of his own heartbeat going off in his ears, he was pretty sure he saw her mouth the word, “Whoops.”

As Reed got closer, he definitely heard her say, “Going somewhere, Mr. Gulliver?”

Chapter 10

Lee Gulliver was taken straight to Wymondham headquarters. Police can hold suspects for 24 hours without arrest so Reed had decided to do the interview first thing in the morning. He wasn't sure what he was going to ask anyway. Working at a chemical factory wasn't a crime and everything else they had on him was circumstantial.

Gulliver had been at Splitz nightclub with Carmella Chapman on the night she was murdered, he had given her a lift home and the bleach that was poured over her body was made at the factory where he worked. He had also lied about the route he and Carmella had taken home; if he had taken her home at all. It wasn't looking good for him but it didn't make him a killer either. Reed was hoping a good night’s sleep might produce some inspirational questions for him to ask at the interview.

Simultaneously, a night in the cells might prompt Gulliver to actually start telling the truth. Reed sometimes wished they could use the same system as America where they put inmates in a communal holding cell. He imagined that coming face to face with some scary-looking criminals could do wonders for someone's talking reflex.

Kate had sent a text saying she would be home late because she had to give a late riding lesson at the stables. Evie was being picked up from school by her Nan. Reed had just received a grilling from DCI Whitehead about all the things he hadn't done, the main thing was finding the murder scene and the murder weapon. Forensics confirmed that Carmella had been moved after her death and despite a thorough search of Thetford Common, the murder site was yet to be located.

Whilst Whitehead had given his lecture, he had looked at Reed like it was his fault these things hadn't been found; perhaps he had missed the sign saying ‘Murder site here.’ Every possible place was being looked at; it was just a process of elimination. They had decided to narrow the search down to places that were accessible by car as Carmella's body had been transported to where she was discovered. If it had happened at a private residence, they stood next to no chance of finding it unless something pointed them in the right direction in the first place.

As Reed was going to be finishing work relatively early he had offered to buy Tyler dinner and she had accepted. They decided to go to the White Horse in Great Ellingham. It was a lovely traditional country pub that served a good range of food at good prices. The ceilings were low and the walls were covered in various old farming tools. There were always plenty of customers around no matter what time of day it was. Despite this, Reed had always managed to find a table with relative ease. He liked that the pub was void of a jukebox, allowing people to actually have a conversation over their meal.

They had travelled in silence most of the way there. Reed was grateful that Tyler was comfortable enough to do so, he hated it when people made pointless conversation. He had been forced to do it enough times himself at family meals and during certain work situations and understood that sometimes it was necessary, but it didn't mean he liked it.

The last few days had been filled with too much information; the murder of Carmella Chapman, the bleach found on her body, Lee Gulliver being the last person to have seen her, and the fact that he worked at the company where the bleach had been manufactured.

There were also links to the unsolved murder of Tina Westwood. Both girls had been killed with a single blow to the head; their bodies had been discovered no more than a short journey apart. The same brand of bleach was present on both girls, albeit Tina had traces on her chest and hands while Carmella's body had been saturated.

Reed had two main theories at this present time. The first being that the two murders were similar by chance. Lee Gulliver had killed Carmella and poured bleach over her body to help distort any evidence and was now hoping he could lie his way out of it. The second was that the killer of Tina had resurfaced and was now announcing that he was back. Another thing to consider was the earrings. Tina had one earring missing when her body was found. Carmella had none and it wasn't clear yet if she had been wearing any when she left the house. If she had, why would Gulliver remove them? If it was the same killer again, and he wanted recognition for what he had done, it made sense that he would do the same things but on a grander scale. Maybe Carmella had removed them herself and mislaid them somewhere.

Then there was the murder site of Carmella. Where was it? Search teams had combed the area between the Chapman's home and where Lee had supposedly dropped her off. They had found nothing. If Gulliver was the killer it was unlikely that they ever got that far. If he was telling the truth, it would suggest she was taken. Was it by choice or was she forced? The neighbours hadn't heard anything, not Gulliver's car or the screams of Carmella. Reed didn't need Whitehead to point out the importance of the murder scene, all he needed right now was a nice cold pint and a bite to eat.

“This is your treat right?” Tyler asked.

“Yes.”

“Good, I'm bloody starving.” She gave Reed a cheeky smile to let him know this wasn't going to be cheap.

They made their way inside. Reed ordered a pint of Carling Extra Cold and Tyler settled for a small glass of white wine. Reed told her she could have a large one as he was driving and that he could pick her up in the morning. She had declined as she wanted a clear head in the morning. They took two menus from the bar and made their way to an outside table.

There were only four tables outside, two on a patio and two on the grass. A man and a woman were having a drink at one of the patio tables so Reed headed for a table on the grass. Although the sun's heat had eased, it was still very mild and the air was ghostly still. Reed loosened his collar to let some air through.

“You look worn out.” Tyler stated.

“I am. Bloody Whitehead. He doesn't say as much but I swear he thinks I'm some backward country boy.”

“You mean you’re not?”

“Very funny.” Reed couldn't hold his smile.

“What has he said now?”

“Well, nothing directly, he just states the bloody obvious.” Reed made a mouth shape with his hand, and moved it as he imitated Whitehead, “We need to find the murder site.”

“Mentioned it a couple of times has he?”

Reed ignored Tyler's question, “It's like it's my fault we haven't found it.”

“Perhaps you shouldn't take it so personally; we all know what he's like.”

The waitress came over to take their order. Tyler ordered a cheeseburger and chips. Reed, in all his wisdom hadn't even looked at the menu, so he went for sirloin steak.

“Sorry sir, we don't have any sirloin, we have rump?”

“That will do fine.” Just his luck. He couldn't even get that right. A choice of two and he buggered it up.

They sat for a little while in silence just sipping their drinks. Both winding down, relaxing a little. Perhaps the alcohol was starting to work. Reed's legs were aching from chasing down Gulliver.

“Why run?” Reed asked.

“You will have to tell me the start of this conversation; the bit that was just in your head.” Tyler said, holding out her hands, palms facing upwards, to indicate that she didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

“Gulliver, why did he run? Let's be honest, any evidence is purely circumstantial, so why did he run?”

“Something to hide?”

Reed thought for a moment, “Could be. He could be worried about wrongful arrest I suppose. At least it gives us something to push him on tomorrow.”

Their meals arrived; they dropped the work conversation in an instant, not wanting to lower the tone of the food. Reed ordered another drink, a coke this time; he ordered Tyler another wine without asking her but she didn't complain.

Reed enjoyed every last morsel of his meal, using a slice of bread to soak up the last few drops on his plate. He noticed that Tyler was only half way through her meal and felt somewhat of a greedy pig. Not wanting her to think the same, he decided to let her catch up by taking himself off to the toilet. He announced this and immediately wondered if he should have. He scuttled off as quick as he could, feeling a little embarrassed. On the way to the toilet he contemplated his table manners. Was it more polite to just get up and leave with no explanation or do you tell someone that you were about to do one of nature’s necessities? In hindsight, he decided that nobody wanted to know what he was leaving for and would simply tell them he would be back in a minute.

Reed made his way through the maze that was the White Hart. It was a seemingly small establishment but if you didn't know where all the little corridors led, you could find yourself walking in circles. There were little rooms everywhere, one had a pool table in; the room was too small and you were lucky if you could get your cue down to take a shot. There were fruit machines in another and the others were filled with tables to eat at.

There was a female laugh coming from the last dining room on the left before he reached the toilets; the laugh stopped him in his tracks. He slowly peeked around the corner to see who it was. There was a man in mid-flow of conversation, telling a tale of some sorts and building up to the big ending. Reed didn't know what it was about and he didn't care. The man was seated but everything about him looked tall. His face was long and thin, his arm was lying across the table; reaching the other side with ease, his fingers resembled the prongs on a garden fork. His hair looked immaculate; it was mousy brown and styled to within an inch of its life.

The man kept glancing up, not surprising as Reed was staring straight at him. Just as the man’s female companion, who was facing away from Reed, started to turn to see what the man was looking at, Reed walked away.

For someone who was supposed to be somewhere else they had gone to a lot of effort to be here. They had put on their best clothes including the red silk top Reed had bought her for her birthday, done their hair so that it displayed the fancy looking hair clip that Evie had picked out for a Christmas present, and lied about where they were going to be. So what the hell was his wife playing at?

Reed paid the bill on his way back through. He had taken much longer than necessary at the toilets. Staring at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands, thoughts spinning around his head, none making any sense. When he had spoken to Kate earlier, she had stressed that she was going to be late because she was giving a lesson at the horse yard.

So why was she lying? He felt angry, upset and confused. It could be perfectly innocent of course; he could be a client at the yard, a friend or even a business associate. Reed himself was having dinner with someone who was of the opposite sex. Tyler was a friend and a work colleague. Nothing wrong there but he hadn't lied about it. Perhaps it was just the shock of seeing her that was twisting his thoughts. But there was something about the way she had laughed that had caught Reed’s attention in the first place. She used to laugh like that with him. The way the man was telling his story, he seemed so at ease, like they had spoken a hundred times before, and his hand, reaching across the table into her space, what was he trying to get? Her?

Reed decided he would go home and wait for Kate to come in and explain all, then he would realise what a fool he had been.

Tyler hadn't noticed Reed's sudden strange mood, or at least she didn't say anything. Reed didn't rush to leave because he had noticed that Kate and the mystery man had cutlery set out on their table, obviously about to have a meal. He drove Tyler home and arranged to pick her up in the morning. He then headed for home himself. Kate was picking Evie up because she could trust herself to be on time, whilst Reed could be at work until any hour, and even if he did get home, he could easily be called out again.

He kicked the cat out, literally; it was his only guilty pleasure when no one was home. He then put the TV on and tried to make himself look comfortable for when Kate entered, not that he would interrogate her as soon as she stepped in, Evie would be there for one, plus he wanted to play it cool, a bit of general chit chat, let her tell him of her own accord.

Reed had just started to get truly comfortable, instead of just trying to look comfortable for Kate's sake, when his mobile phone started ringing and vibrating, dancing to its own tune, moving around the kitchen table. Kate? Reed ran through to the kitchen and snatched up the phone.

It was Whitehead.

“Sir?”

“We've found your murder site for you.”

Chapter 11

Reed didn't phone Kate to let her know why he wasn't home. He wasn't sure if this was to annoy her or if he wanted to see if she noticed.

It was a good indication of how he was feeling at the moment that finding a murder site was something to be happy about. It was a good thing for the investigation; it might hold the evidence that led to the killer. Carmella was dead and nothing could change that, all that mattered now was catching the bastard who was responsible.

Reed's head was awash with thoughts as he made his way to the investigation room, a mixture of Kate, Carmella and Tina all vying for his attention. As he opened the door, all he could hear was the low hum of the computers; this was despite a group of five people huddled in the furthest corner of the room: Whitehead, Tyler and Plumridge were joined by Detective Constables Eddie Horn and Jerome Dade . Horn was a wily old fox whose quiet demeanor hid a steely determination for the job and a dry sense of humour. Dade was a little more aloof and Reed wondered if anyone on the force really knew what he was about despite him being quick to join in with any banter.

They stood in silence, obviously not very happy at being called into work when they had only finished a few hours ago. Reed wondered if he was the last one called by Whitehead just so they would all have to wait for him, shifting their annoyance from Whitehead. All they wanted to do was get the necessary work done and get home to sleep. Then it would all start again in the morning.

Whitehead stood up and stretched as though he had been waiting a week, “Right, now we can begin.”

Reed felt honoured that Whitehead had even waited.

After picking up some papers and glancing over them, Whitehead started, “At 7.16pm today, a phone call came in from a Mr Simpson. His dog took an interest in a certain area and couldn't be called away. Afraid that she might run onto the road, he went to retrieve her. When he bent down to grab her collar he noticed what he thought might be a patch of blood. I got a call shortly after and an officer was sent out with someone from forensics and it has been confirmed as blood. There's a good chance that the weapon has been found too. Of course, we could have saved many an hour if we had done our jobs properly in the first place, you know why?” Whitehead waited a few seconds, “Because it's an area we have already searched.”

Everyone looked at one another with a mixture of confusion and horror on their faces.

“Where?” Tyler asked.

“Thetford Common. It seems that our highly trained search teams focused their search on the car park before heading onto the common itself. Not one person there thought it might be a good idea to check the small area of growth between the car park and Bury Road. It's no more than a metre wide and twenty metres long. It would have taken ten fucking minutes.” Whitehead slammed his fist onto the table for added emphasis.

“What was the weapon?” Reed asked. His voice was unemotional.

“What?” Whitehead shouted.

“The weapon, what was it?”

Whitehead seemed to take a moment to compose himself before answering, “It seems to be a stone. It was found very near to the patch of blood, about eight inches away. The forensic guy had a look at it and although it's possible it was just part of the area that was covered in blood, there is a distinctive blood pattern that would suggest it was used for the impact to Carmella's head.”

“Well this should be interesting for Mr. Gulliver in the morning.” Reed thought out loud.

“Why?” Whitehead asked sharply.

“Well sir, as you probably know, he lied about his journey home from Newmarket. He said he used the A11 but he was caught by a speed camera on another route.”

“Innocent people don't lie. He must have something to hide and I want you to find out what it is.” Whitehead said, pointing his finger as he spoke. Reed couldn't help but be amazed by his wisdom. The prick.

Reed turned to Tyler, “We won’t spill the beans first thing. I want to question him on this bleach connection first, if that doesn't work, we'll drop this on him.”

“OK. I want to watch in on this one.” Whitehead interrupted. “We'll start at 9am. You and Tyler should get off home, you can check out the murder site tomorrow if you need to. I'm making the blood tests a priority, so we should know by morning. You three can go to the scene now to make sure there are no more mistakes.” Whitehead said to Plumridge, Horn and Dade before standing up and leaving.

“You get all the best jobs, Plummy.” Reed said, fluttering his eyebrows and smiling.

“Yeah, and now he's dragging us two along for the fun. The day you joined the force was the best day of my life.” Dade said to Plumridge, lifting himself off the table. His partner, Horn, followed silently but with just as much enthusiasm.

“Oh yeah, I stuck my hand up straight away, pick me, pick me, I want to stand in the cold until the small hours, it'll be fun .. It's not my fault for Christ's sake.” Plumridge countered. Then he started to leave with the demeanor of someone who had an appointment for a rectal examination.

Reed and Tyler sat still until everyone else had left the room. Reed was staring at the incident board. Whitehead had already updated it with the information on the murder site. Even his handwriting looked angry, the thickness of the pen line was wider than the rest of the writing on the board. Although Reed could understand why Whitehead was angry, but it had been a mistake by the search team and Reed knew that they would be hurting more than anyone.

“Are you okay?” Tyler asked.

Reed was anything but okay, but said, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

“You sure? It's just that you seemed a bit off at the restaurant.”

“To be honest, I feel shit. Whitehead pisses me off. It's like everything that goes wrong with this investigation is my fault. When we do get a break, he makes out it's because of him. In reality, he's done fuck all, which is exactly what he seems to think I'm doing.”

“I'm not convinced that's your real problem.” Tyler said.

“What?”

“I don't believe for one second that you of all people needs his approval.”

“I didn't know you had been studying me so intensely.”

“I haven't. Anyone would say the same.”

“Right. Look, I don't want to be rude but I could do without this right now. I'm just a little pissed off. It happens to most people. I'm sure I'll get over it.”

“I'm sure you will.” Tyler stood from her seat and made to leave. She paused at the door “I'm always here you know, if you want to talk.”

Reed didn't reply. He forced a smile in her direction; she smiled back and left. He looked at his watch, Kate would most likely be home now, Evie would be in bed. He knew he should go home and get some sleep but he really didn't know what he would say to Kate if she was awake. She hadn't called to see where he was.

Reed sat alone at the incident room for another half an hour, the only reason was to put off going home. He wanted to know what Kate had been doing today but on the other hand, he didn't want to know. He wanted to know before he knew, that way he could decide if he really wanted to know. God, his mind really was scrambled.

At 11.22pm he finally pulled into his driveway; admittedly he had taken the scenic route, well it would have been scenic if it had been daylight. At this time of night it was just the longest route. His stomach was doing somersaults of anticipation. He hadn't felt like this since singing at his school nativity play. What if she didn't say anything? Would he ask her outright what she was doing? Probably not.

Every movement he made was being drawn out, he even checked all the car doors were locked; he never done that, the central locking invention had put an end to that particular routine. He made his way to the front door, rifling through his keys as he walked, he was sure he found the front door key at least three times but dropped it around his little key ring each time just so he could look for it again.

He finally put the key in the lock and turned it. He entered the small hallway and wished he had a coat to take off to use up a little more time. The lounge door was closed. Kate would normally be curled up on the sofa watching TV but Reed couldn't hear it. He peeked around the door but she wasn't there. Perhaps she had gone to bed and he could put it off for another day. Then he heard a sound coming from the kitchen, it sounded like glass on glass. There was also a strange noise which he couldn't place. Worried, Reed hurried through to the kitchen. As he pushed the door open he saw Kate sat at the kitchen table. Her head was in her hands and her body was shaking. There was a wine glass on the table which contained more wine than the bottle beside it. She didn't look up. Reed could hear she was crying. He hadn't recognised it because he wasn't sure if he had heard her cry like this before.

“What on earth is wrong?”

“I. . . I'm . . .” Kate half stuttered, half cried.

“What? Is Evie OK?

“Yes, she's fine. It's me. . .”

“Are you ill? What? Tell me for Christ’s sake.”

Kate finally looked up. Her eyes were red and puffy. She looked straight at him, “I'm seeing somebody else.

Chapter 12

Reed was feeling rough. Really rough. His eyes had throbbed as the sunlight shining through the window invaded them. He had slept for two hours maximum, having spent the night on the sofa. Kate had said how sorry she was over and over again. Anything else she might have said he didn't hear, he was too shocked. Even though he had suspected something might be going on, he had been caught unaware when Kate had just blurted it out, the words hitting him harder than he could ever have imagined.

She had waited for a reaction but he couldn't give her one, especially one that might make her feel better. So he said nothing. She probably expected one of his outbursts. He had always let his emotions bottle up until it got too much, then he would erupt like a volcano that suddenly came to life, unleashing more power than was really necessary. He would shout, swear and say things he really didn't mean. He would simmer for a couple of days afterwards and then be back to his usual self. When it was safe, Kate would tell him that he should have said something earlier so that he wouldn't get so angry. He'd promise that he would next time and then the whole cycle started again.

Last night he had felt numb. All he could tell Kate was that he didn't want to speak about it because it wouldn't change anything. He had told her to have the bed as he couldn't be sure that it was clean. To her credit she hadn't taken the bait for an argument and just simply said that she would never do something like that, before leaving the room.

Reed hadn't had a drink in a long time, but sat there alone with too many thoughts bouncing around his brain. He felt it was a good time to start again. He didn't think he really wanted to but having watched this scenario on TV many times, it had seemed to work for the various actors and actresses and, to be fair, it had worked for him too. He had finished a bottle of vodka that he had searched out from the back of the cupboard, wincing with every gulp. He had always hated vodka, and he hated it even more now he had this hangover.

Now, as he was driving to pick Tyler up so they could interview Lee Gulliver, he wished he had never touched a drop. Tyler would be her normal self, excited that they were going to grill their possible murderer. She would want to know how to approach the interview. Whether they should reveal what they knew straight away or feed it to him slowly? Whether they should try to be his friend or his enemy? Reed hadn't even thought it through.

He pulled up to Tyler's house. She had bought it with her ex-boyfriend about five years ago. It was in a village called Kimberly, which consisted of too many new housing estates, a school, a pub and a small grocery shop which also housed a post office. Tyler's house was down a small track with six other houses. It was painted yellow with dark brown window frames and a dark brown oak door. There was enough parking for two cars but with a car like Reed's, which was a black Volvo V40 estate, it was somewhat of a chore to reverse into the drive and then drive forward out of it because of the thick bushy hedge that was opposite all the houses. Tyler, who was usually a very logical person, had placed her wheelie bins in such a position that you had the option of forcing the front of your car into the bush on the opposite side of the track or rubbing the side of the car against the wheelie bins as you drove out. Maybe she placed them there so she didn't have to remember to put them out. That would be logical.

Tyler and her ex had split up about two years after buying the house and she had taken on the mortgage by herself. At the time she had been worried about the financial burden but Reed had broken a few minor rules that he didn't really care for by telling her that a promotion was on the way and would probably be confirmed before the paperwork for her mortgage could be completed. This was enough for her to go ahead and that was enough for Reed to realise that his little rule breaking had been worth it.

Tyler came from around the back of the house; she didn't use the front door very often as she didn't want people dirtying the carpet in the lounge. She was wearing a grey skirt suit with a white shirt underneath which was open at the collar. She wore black tights and black shoes. Her hair was tied back in a neat ponytail.

Reed thought she looked annoyingly happy as she approached the passenger door, although this probably had more to do with his mood than hers. Normally if she was happy, it would be enough to cheer him a little.

“Morning.” Tyler said.

“It is.”

“Always the detective.” She smiled, mistaking his comment as part of their usual banter. The silence that followed told her that it wasn't. “Everything OK?”

“Not really.” Reed replied. After a few seconds of silence he continued, “I've got the biggest case of my career and a boss that doesn't think I can deal with it, probably thinks I'm hindering it actually. Then the opportunity presents itself this morning that I might just be able to nail the bastard who committed the murder, but I can't concentrate on any of it. You know why? I'll tell you why, Kate has been screwing around with some bloke.”

Tyler was shocked. She wasn't friendly with Kate and had only met her a few times, but when she had seen them together they had looked happy enough. Probably more like friends than lovers but Tyler had assumed that was a good thing. What could she say? ‘Sorry’ always seemed wrong to her as she hadn't done anything. The tension was building, she had to say something. Reed had never really spoken about his personal life and now he was revealing what must have been one of the most painful experiences of his life.

“Tyler, I'm only telling you this because I consider you a friend. As a friend, I'm asking you not to tell anyone else. I don't want to talk about it, I only told you because I don't want you to think I have a problem with you.”

“OK.” After a few seconds, she quickly changed the subject for both their sakes, “Back to the interview then, we know Lee Gulliver lied about the route he took home. He was the last person to see Carmella on the night she went missing. He just so happens to work at the factory which produced the bleach that was poured over her body. He also felt the need to run away when he spotted us yesterday.”

Reed was wondering why she was saying all this when she continued, “Remember all this and I'm sure you'll be fine at the interview.”

The rest of the journey passed by in silence. Tyler's words had refocused him on the challenge ahead. By the time they pulled into the police station's car park he felt a renewed vigor about what they had to do. Gulliver was beginning to look really guilty and if he was, Reed wanted to nail him.

Reed had always had a knack of putting certain feelings to one side, dealing with them one at a time. It was time to ring Kate so he could get a few things out of the way and concentrate on the upcoming interview. He told Tyler to go in and he would catch her up. As she walked away he got his phone from his pocket. All of a sudden, for the first time in years, he wished he had a packet of cigarettes to get out too.

Kate had been the one who had decided they should give up. After countless times of trying they had finally managed it. It was about four years since his last cigarette, now he would happily light one, starting the addiction cycle all over again. He knew Kate would think he was stupid and he wondered if that was half the attraction.

“Hello.” Kate answered.

“I just want to say something without arguing.” Reed said.

“I don't want to argue either.”

“I just think, if you want to be with someone else, you should be.”

“I'm not sure what to do.” Kate confessed.

“Well you'll have to make your choice and live with it. I can't live in limbo. If you do go, you won’t be coming back. I can't be your fallback plan.”

“I know you well enough to know that already.”

“I'd want regular access to Evie, to still be involved in her life.” Reed stated.

“That would be a step up.”

Reed chose not to acknowledge her attempt to wind him up. He wasn't at home enough and he knew it. “I would want to sell the house, or you could buy me out, it's up to you.”

“Anything else?” Kate asked.

“Yes. Hopefully we could stay friendly for Evie's sake, but I can't promise anything, we would have to see how that pans out.” It was Reed’s turn for a low blow.

“You finished?”

“Or you could stay.” He suggested, his bravado weakening.

“We'll talk later OK? Bye.” Kate said and then hung up.

Reed looked at his phone, confused that she hadn't said more. He put his phone back in his pocket, got back in his car and headed for the nearest shop.

“Have you started on the cancer sticks again?” Plumridge asked as Reed leaned over his shoulder to pick up Lee Gulliver's report.

Reed walked to the front of Plumridge's desk, stood tall and just stared straight at him. It didn't take long before Plumridge started to look uncomfortable, fidgeting in his chair, eyes darting around the room.

Reed held the stare long enough to let Plumridge know he had said the wrong thing, before adding, “You know, it really is beyond me how I made Detective Inspector ahead of you. Honestly. A whiff of smoke on my breath and you come to the conclusion I might have had a cigarette.”

Not waiting for a response and happy at his own remark, Reed walked to his own office. He walked with purpose hoping it would send out the signal he didn't want to talk to anybody. It worked. Reed shut the door and sat at his desk. He looked at some papers that had been tossed onto his desk. If there was one part of his job that really annoyed him, it was the fact that everybody had access to his office. He liked things organised. He had trays for his paperwork and a holder for his pens. He had a tray for the investigation he was currently working on, another for less urgent crimes like vandalism, thefts and non-fatal arsons. Things that would keep him occupied when there weren’t the more serious issues of rape, missing persons and murder to deal with.

The less serious crimes would be given straight to Reed. He would then delegate them through his team. The serious crimes would be delegated to him when DCI Whitehead wanted to see him struggle with something.

Reed also had two large filing cabinets which he used to store all the paperwork from completed cases. He would photocopy everything that was handed to Whitehead to be signed off. This way, if anything went missing or Whitehead tried to pick up on a mistake that wasn't there, Reed had back-up. They also doubled as an excellent reference library. It was surprising how many cases linked together. The criminal community was a large but intertwined one. One name was always linked to another and before you knew it, you were looking in all the same places.

Reed gathered the files together that somebody had obviously thrown from the door rather than take the few extra steps and put them in the section clearly marked “In Tray”.

Finally satisfied that everything was in its appropriate place, he opened up the report on Lee Gulliver's night in the cells. It said that he had been quiet and polite throughout the night. There had been no tantrums, shouting or threats. This could mean that he was nervous, scared or even dejected at being found out. Or it could mean absolutely nothing.

When Reed made the journey down to the interview rooms he was surprised to see Tyler sitting down on a plastic chair in the corridor, staring down at her feet. She looked up at Reed, gave him a half-smile and said, “He's not here yet.”

Without responding, Reed looked at his watch before picking up one of the handsets for the internal phone system.

“Why isn't Lee Gulliver in an interview room?” Reed demanded from whoever answered.

“He's on his way now sir.” Answered the PC who was in charge of the cells this morning.

“I asked for him to be here at nine. It's now nine thirty. I wanted him to wait for me, not the other way round.”

“Sorry, sir. It won't happen again.”

“No it won't. What's your name?”

“PC Murphy, sir.”

Reed hung up the phone without saying another word. He had no intention of taking the matter any further but he took the PC's name to indicate that he might. Tyler had a smirk on her face, knowing him well enough to realise that he was just trying to scare the officer a little as he was not comfortable with using the authority that came with his rank.

They waited in silence for Gulliver to arrive. Reed busied himself looking in the various rooms. There were eight in total, four small and four large. All the rooms were painted magnolia and had a table in the centre of the room which was fixed to the floor. Each room was fitted with a double tape recorder and CCTV. There was a panic button near each door.

It had already been agreed that the interview would take place in Room 7. It was one of only two rooms with a two-way mirror. DCI Whitehead would be watching Reed's every move.

Gulliver was escorted in through the doorway at the end of the corridor. Reed held the door open for the two officers to take the prisoner into the interview room. Gulliver had his head lowered, not looking where he was going, taking full advantage of his escort.

“In here please. You can take the handcuffs off him.”

After the two officers came out, Reed shut the door, leaving Gulliver alone. “Who will be bringing his solicitor down?”

“That will be me, sir.” A short, ginger officer said.

“I would appreciate it if you took a toilet break before you did. Maybe take a paper with you.” Reed suggested, knowing full well that Whitehead wouldn't arrive until the solicitor did, giving them a chance to test Gulliver's character a little.

“Sir.” Replied the officer, beginning to smile.

Reed entered the room and sat opposite Gulliver. Tyler was putting out some files and unwrapping the tapes to put in the recorder.

“How was your night?” Reed asked.

“OK.” Gulliver replied glumly.

“That's good.” Reed made a show of looking around the room, tapping his fingers on the table. Tyler sat down next to him.

“We’re just waiting for your solicitor before we get started.” Tyler said.

After a few minutes of pretending to read some papers Reed exhaled noisily, “Do you want a drink or something?”

“No. Thank you.” Gulliver replied. Looking bored himself now.

“You're sure?”

“Honestly, I'm fine.”

“While we're being honest, tell me why you killed Carmella?” Reed sprung the question.

“What?” Gulliver shouted.

“You heard me.” Reed said, leaning over the table, getting in his face.

“You... You can't ask me that.”

“So you're not denying it.” Reed moved even further across the table.

“Hang on, I haven't got my solicitor here. I know my rights.”

“All guilty people do.” Reed muttered.

Gulliver stood. Reed sat and folded his arms, not removing his eyes from Gulliver's face. Tyler stayed relaxed in her chair. “Fuck this. This isn't right.” Gulliver finally said as he moved for the door.

“Sit down.” Reed shouted loud enough to stop Gulliver. Then the interview room door flew open and a flustered looking solicitor came rushing in, shortly followed by a smirking PC. Reed would have to thank the young officer later for the perfect timing.

“What is going on here?” The solicitor asked, bewildered.

“They're setting me up, that's what.”

Reed held his hands out, palms up and shrugged. Tyler shook her head in mock disbelief at the accusation. After weighing up the situation, the solicitor asked for a few moments with her client, which she was granted. Reed needed a coffee.

Half an hour later, Reed, Tyler, Gulliver and his solicitor, Mrs. Cunningham, began the interview. Tyler started the recordings and stated who was present, the date, time and case number. They ran through some old statements of Gulliver's, asked some routine questions. Then they asked them again to see if the answers were the same. Mostly they were. Time to move it on a little and apply some pressure.

“So to sum up Mr. Gulliver, on the evening of Saturday the 27th of July this year, you first attended Splitz nightclub in Newmarket before giving Carmella Chapman a lift back to Thetford. You dropped her off at the end of Bridgeham Road. Is that correct?” Reed began.

“Yes.”

“Why did you lie about the route you took home?”

“I was scared.” Gulliver answered, looking embarrassed.

“What was it you were scared about Mr. Gulliver?” Reed asked.

Gulliver looked to his solicitor for reassurance. He had lost his confident exterior. It wasn't unlike a child looking to their mother. His solicitor gave him a simple nod to let him know he could answer.

“I just thought if I picked a random route, it would distance me from this whole thing.”

“So you've mentioned before. One thing bothers me with that scenario,” Reed said, pausing a few seconds for effect. “How did you know that your made up route would avoid the site where Carmella was murdered?”

Gulliver looked for some help from his solicitor again. This time she offered none. “I didn't know.” Gulliver said with a shrug.

“OK. Let’s forget that for now. Why did you run from DI Reed and myself yesterday?” Tyler took over.

“I don't know really, I guess I panicked.”

“Oh this is horseshit. ‘Panicked’? ‘Scared’?” Reed made a show of picking some of Gulliver's own words from his statement. “I'll tell you what I think happened that night. Why you really lied. Why you ran from us. You're guilty. You tried it on with Carmella, to her better judgement she told you where to go, then, with your pride stinging a little,” Reed pointed a finger at Gulliver, “You lashed out. I don't know if you wanted to kill her, but you did. Then you panicked and hid her body. That's what I think is scaring you.”

“No. No, that's not true.” Gulliver spat out.

“This is pure speculation, Detective.” Mrs. Cunningham said calmly, her face indicating that this was a complete waste of her time.

“It's my job to speculate, at least until we find the evidence to prove it. And we will prove it.”

“Yes. But for the purpose of the tape, at this stage, it is pure speculation.” Mrs. Cunningham said. She shut the file she had in front of her, making it clear to everyone that this interview was so absurd to her that she didn't need her notes and that the interview should end here.

Reed didn't know what to say. The solicitor was right, it was only speculation. One-nil Mrs. Cunningham. Although Reed didn't know for sure, he was sure Whitehead would be behind the mirror shaking his head in disbelief at how bad the whole thing was going. Reed stood, stretched his back out and shuffled over to the mirror. He hoped Whitehead was the other side. Reed stared himself in the eye, knowing everyone was waiting for his next move. Reed turned to face Gulliver who was looking at the table. Mrs. Cunningham was playing with her immaculate nails.

“We know about the earrings that hide your little secret.” Reed finally said.

No-one was expecting that.

Tyler span round in her chair, showing that her jaw had dropped open in surprise. Gulliver's jaw had dropped open with a mixture of confusion and fear. Mrs. Cunningham's jaw had dropped before she could compose herself enough to re-open her file again, flicking through it frantically. Reed could have sworn he heard Whitehead's jaw hit the floor too.

“What? How do... The earring...” Gulliver tried the art of constructing the sentence without any success.

“Don't say anything Mr. Gulliver.” Cunningham started. “Detective Inspector Reed, if you have any new evidence regarding my client which you wish to use against him, you know full well that you have to make me aware of it.”

Reed didn't reply. He was shocked now. If Mrs. Cunningham hadn't have wasted time opening her file again, looking to see if she had missed the part about the earrings, which she hadn't because it wasn't there, Gulliver wouldn't have stuttered a few telling words out.

‘The earring.’

Reed had taken a massive gamble by telling Gulliver they knew about the earrings. Not only with the interview and case, but his job too. They didn't even know Carmella was wearing any earrings the night she was killed. The earring? What bloody earring? And what part did it play?

All eyes slowly settled on Reed again. He wasn't spontaneous by nature but this felt good. Reckless almost. After thinking it through, Reed said, “For the benefit of the tape, I would like to withdraw my last statement regarding earrings. It was a complete mistake on my part. This interview is now finished.”

Reed left the room with no objection from anybody. Just looks of bewilderment. Having just managed to shut the interview room door behind him, Whitehead came thundering round the corner. At least he thought it was Whitehead, the sheer rage on display was distorting his face a little.

“What in the blue fuck was that?” He shouted, the voice revealing it was in fact Whitehead.

“An interview, sir.” Reed replied, walking away.

“A bad one. We don't even know she was wearing any earrings.”

“I think we do now, sir.”

Gulliver, under his solicitor's advice, was going to stay in custody for a couple of hours whilst his home was searched under Mrs. Cunningham's supervision. After this, if nothing major was discovered at the flat, he would be released on bail conditions, surrendering his passport and signing in at Thetford Police Station once a day.

Reed, Tyler and two police constables would conduct the search. The official reason for the search was to look for any correspondence between Gulliver and Carmella. They would also make sure there was no other clothing that could have matched the description of what Gulliver had been wearing on the night Carmella was murdered. Although he had submitted a pair of white Nike trainers, a yellow t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, it didn't necessarily mean he had given the correct ones. Every man and his wife knew they were really looking for earrings.

The lounge smelt of beer cans that had been used as ash trays. Reed doubted Gulliver ever opened the windows for some fresh air, probably because cannabis was too expensive to let the smoke drift outside. There wasn't too much furniture to sort through so Reed left it to the others while he went through to the kitchen.

The kitchen wasn't dirty, it wasn't clean either. The linoleum floor was covered in crumbs and had a greasy feel to it. The crumbs had obviously been swept off the work surface which looked fairly respectable. The cupboard doors had been decorated lightly in grease. Reed opened the drawers and cupboards; it was all a bit bare, and there wasn't even a junk drawer which he had always assumed was standard with any residence. The fridge was stocked well with lager. Chips were equally available in the freezer and there wasn't a lot else in-between.

When Reed turned to leave, Mrs. Cunningham was stood in the doorway. He offered a smile and waited for her to move. She didn't.

“Found any earrings yet?” She asked.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Reed replied, letting his smile grow a little. Mrs. Cunningham waited a few seconds before offering a smile of her own and stepping aside slightly, forcing him to squeeze past her. She followed him up to the bedroom to where Tyler and the other two police officers were now searching.

Reed started to feel stupid being here. His outburst at the station was stupid. Now they were searching for something they didn't even know existed. Even if they did, Carmella could have removed them herself and left them at the club to be hoovered up and binned. She could have left them in Gulliver's car and he binned them, threw them in a lake or out of the window as he was driving down the A11. He hadn't exactly shown himself as a truthful person and it might explain his reaction at the station.

“I've got earrings.” One of the officers shouted.

Reed turned to Mrs. Cunningham and gave her his best 'Well would you believe it?' look, but his joy was short lived. There were lots of earrings. Six pairs in total. Unfortunately, they were all still attached to the little velvet boards they were sold on. They were all the same style and colour. On closer inspection, Reed was convinced they matched the Chapman's description of the pair Carmella could have been wearing the night she was murdered. They were all studs with a coloured stone. What was Gulliver doing with all these? Maybe he was planning a few false leads, spread some around the county and let the police waste their time chasing them up.

All the items were bagged up and documented as potential evidence under the watchful eye of Gulliver's solicitor; photos were taken so Mr. and Mrs. Chapman could take a look to see if they looked similar to the ones they thought were missing from Carmella's bedroom.

Reed went outside and had a cigarette as he walked through an alleyway that led to Thetford High Street. Old flint buildings were mixed with new shop fronts. There was a nice buzz of traffic and people were busy going about their business, careful not to make eye contact with anybody. Reed got takeaway coffees for himself and Tyler. He drank and smoked his way back to Gulliver’s flat. Kate was in and out of his head, making it hard to make sense of anything else. He would be thinking of earrings, and then a vision of Kate modeling the pair he had bought her for Christmas would pop into his head, taking his breath away a little.

The earrings that were found at Gulliver's home were taken to the Forensics Department at Wymondham where tests would show if they had ever been worn. If they had, skin cells would hopefully be present so they could get some DNA.

When Reed got back to his office, he locked his door and let himself get swallowed up by the soft black leather chair Kate had bought him a few months back. Was it a guilty gift? He didn't even know how long she had been seeing this new bloke. How did they meet? What was his name? Reed knew they had to sit down and talk about it all but he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear it. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his head of all of the jumble.

For a couple of scary seconds, Reed thought he was being shot at. In fact, if Tyler wasn't peeking through the small square window at the top of his office door, he probably would have ducked for cover. He had drifted off to sleep. She looked frantic, she knocked in quick succession again.

“Are you alright?” Tyler asked as he let her in.

“I was. What do you want?”

“An earring has been found.”

Reed was still waking up. An earring. One. Just like Gulliver had indicated when Reed had had his inspired outburst. ‘The earring.’ Gulliver had said amongst other stuttered words. “Where?” Reed finally got out.

“At Carmella's murder site.”

Chapter 13

Reed couldn't believe what he had just heard. An earring had been found at the murder site on Thetford Common. As far as he was aware the search of the area had ceased. It had been taped off, so how had something been found now?

“Apparently,” Tyler started, reading his confused face. “A young officer who was keeping watch got a little bored and decided to have a go with the metal detector. It had been left with him because the division that owns it was coming to collect it.”

“Our Scene of Crime department don't have their own metal detector?” Reed butted in.

“They do, but they arranged to borrow this one because it has a much larger detection range and given the terrain and sheer expanse of the Common they thought it would be beneficial.”

“If it’s so good why the hell wasn’t this earring found the first time around?”

“I don’t know. But the officer had a little play with the metal detector on the car park and there it was.” Tyler said.

Surprised by the lack of urgency from Reed she took a couple of steps towards his desk and grabbed his car keys, placed them in his hand and motioned with her head towards the door. Not awake enough to argue, he trundled behind her all the way to the car. The car park had been thoroughly searched. What the hell was going on?

When they got to Thetford Common, Reed hardly had a chance to get out of the car before the gadget loving PC was waving a plastic evidence bag in his face. Looking rather smug, too smug.

“What the hell were you doing playing around with that thing? Do you know how much it would cost to replace if you had broken it? No. Neither do I, but I bet your career it's more than you earn in a month.”

“Sorry, sir.” The PC said, looking like a scorned schoolboy.

“Well, as it is, you've done well, so we'll let it go.” Reed said, taking the evidence bag.

He studied the contents and then he handed it to Tyler without saying anything. That way, she could impartially agree or disagree with his thoughts.

“It's the same style as the ones at Gulliver's.” She agreed.

A Scene of Crimes Officer pulled up in a white van and parked behind Reed's car. Reed had phoned the department and asked them to send someone who had been involved in the initial search. Reed had no idea who he was or what rank he might hold. Treading carefully, he asked for an opinion as to how this could happen. The man, who was unusually tall and had a thick bushy beard, had the demeanor of someone who was happier in the forensics lab rather than in the field. He was twitchy and didn't hold eye contact.

Despite this, he was very logical with his theories and didn't exclude his department from blame. They could have just missed it. Although they had run the search twice, he couldn't guarantee every square inch had been covered. The car park had been part of the critical search area. The main focus of the search had covered a 25 metre radius from where Carmella's blood had been found and should have taken in the spot where a numbered cone was now situated. He rightly pointed out that they weren't even sure there were any earrings to be found at the time of the search. They had found the blood, the weapon and various other fibers to examine, so how long and how far should they have continued was a question he posed to Reed. When his question was left unanswered, he suggested that the earring could have put there by somebody after the search.

For a man who dealt in forensics and scientific facts, he was surprisingly open to unexplainable theories. Reed liked him enough to get his name, DI Joy. Reed's rank in the science world.

Reed was left alone for a couple of minutes as Tyler went to fill in the paperwork to say she had taken possession of the earring. This find had unearthed more questions than answers. How had it got there and when? Why did Gulliver have so many of the same earrings at his flat? Serial killer? What could his connection with Tina Westwood be?

“Why was it so far away from where Carmella's attack took place?” Reed asked Tyler as she came back over to him.

“The back of the earring is still on, so it must have been removed on purpose. It must have been thrown or dropped? Before or after the attack? I don't know.”

“We best pray for some DNA.”

They had planned on hand delivering the earring for forensic tests themselves. While they were there they would see if there was any news on the sets of earrings found at Gulliver's flat. They didn't get very far though. Two minutes after setting off, Tyler took a phone call.

A call had been received from a concerned neighbour of the Westwoods. There had been shouting for the best part of an hour, the crescendo being the smashing of crockery and Alan speeding away from the house. Susan hadn't been seen since and she hadn't answered the door when the neighbour had knocked.

Reed got Tyler to drop him off just up the road from the Westwood's house where he would wait for Allison Mcleary. If Susan would open the door for anyone, it would be Mcleary. Tyler carried on back to the station, which left Reed hoping Mcleary would give him a lift home.

He took a cigarette from the pack and took his time lighting it as though it held some mystical power. It was like welcoming back an old friend. It was nice just standing there taking the time to smoke. Five minutes to himself. Maybe after this case he would take some holiday and have a proper break. That would probably be a holiday for one. Now his five minutes solitude had been interrupted by thoughts of his broken marriage. If it hadn't have been his marriage gatecrashing his peace and quiet, it would have been work. Reed gave in and dropped the butt of his half smoked cigarette on the floor before squashing it out with his foot.

Allison Mcleary pulled up and gave Reed a smile. She was four years his senior and still attractive. She had long blonde hair which came to rest at the small of her back, it was that straight and sleek that he wondered if she ironed it every morning. She was a good six inches shorter than his five foot ten, she was petite but managed to carry herself with a big presence; today she a wore navy blue suit that looked professionally fitted, black shoes. This was all set off with the whitest of white shirts.

“Afternoon.” Reed said.

“Is it? I don't even know what day it is.”

“So this little visit is as welcome for you as it is for me then.”

“You could say that, come on.” Mcleary said, leading the way.

After there was no reply to the doorbell, Mcleary knelt down and spoke through the letterbox, urging Susan to answer. Just as it looked as though Reed would have to break in, the door slowly opened. Behind it, Susan appeared with puffy red eyes and she was blowing her nose.

“Please, you don't have to trouble yourselves with us.”

“Come on, we'll have a cup of tea and a chat.” Mcleary said, putting a comforting arm around Susan's shoulders.

“Oh I am sorry, how rude of me. Sit yourselves down and I'll put the kettle on.” Breaking free, Susan shot off towards the kitchen. Reed felt guilty for thinking she looked her happiest when she had someone to mother. Probably trying to compensate for all the years she had lost out on after Tina was killed. Mcleary obviously thought the same, suggesting the drink in the first place to give Susan something to do.

“She likes to keep busy.” Mcleary confirmed as they sat down.

“What about Alan, what's he like?”

“They're very chalk and cheese. He's on total shutdown.”

Reed knew exactly what that meant. Felt like it himself sometimes to a lesser extent. Didn't much like the world and didn't much want to be a part of it sometimes, so you just shut it all out. The only problem was that whatever you shut out had a nasty habit of coming back with a vengeance.

Susan came in holding a tray with three cups, a teapot, a milk jug, a sugar bowl and a plate of mixed biscuits. The crockery looked like china and wore the same oriental pattern as the shards that could be mysteriously found in all gardens across England.

After Susan had poured the required milk and stirred the sugars, she offered the biscuits to Reed and he happily took a shortcake and digestive biscuit from the plate. He knew it would be the two women doing most of the talking, so he could kick back and enjoy. As expected, Mcleary declined the biscuits altogether. There was nothing worse than accepting an offer of anything edible, taking a bite, only for the room to then fall silent and everybody looking to you to start the conversation. Forcing the mouthful down, you felt obliged to start talking, which you did. For the rest of the interview, you would be left holding a half-eaten item of food that made you feel as comfortable as if you had a boil on the end of your nose. Everybody could see it. Today though, Reed could just munch away.

“What happened today? Do you want to talk about it?” Mcleary started.

Susan lowered her head a little and whispered, “You shouldn't have troubled yourselves; you've more important things to worry about.”

“We thought it best we came rather than a stranger. One of your neighbours called it in, they were worried about you. They saw Alan speed off and you didn't answer the door.”

“She doesn't miss a thing, that Mrs. Campbell.” Susan said, showing signs of anger. “Alan is a good man. I'm to blame as much as anybody.”

“It must be hard, all this happening around you, a new murder on your doorstep, people comparing it to Tina's.”

“Alan's a deep thinker. I pushed him, trying to make him talk about it; I need to talk about it. He's the only one who really knows what it's like. We lost the same person.” Susan's eyes were a constant source of tears now. She mopped them as she continued. “I asked how he was feeling... He never talks anymore.”

“Did he tell you how he felt?”

“No, he just said... It's embarrassing really,” Susan blew her nose once more before carrying on, “He said it was irrelevant what he felt, it wouldn't bring Tina back. He said the police wouldn't catch the killer anyway. I'm sorry, he didn't mean anything personal, he just needs closure and this has opened it all up again.”

“It is perfectly normal for him to blame the police. It's our job to catch criminals and we didn't do that. Totally understandable. We want to catch who killed Tina as much as we want to catch who killed Carmella, the time that's passed doesn't affect that.”

“That's what I told him, I know it's awful, but, I feel so guilty for saying this; Carmella is dead now, if catching her murderer helps to catch our Tina's, some good can come out of this.” Susan looked for some reassurance from Mcleary that she wasn't as bad as the killers themselves for thinking like this. Her eyes were pleading for forgiveness for saying such a thing.

“I completely agree Mrs. Westwood.” Reed was happy to provide it. “We can't say too much and I would appreciate your discretion. I'm not saying we're dealing with the same killer but there are definite similarities between the two murders. All I'm saying at this stage is that one could help the other in terms of how we investigate, new techniques, that sort of thing.”

Susan gave Reed a smile, it was the first time she had really looked at him. “Thank you.”

“So, what made Alan so angry then?” Mcleary picked up again, offering Reed a half smile herself.

“He just snapped after I said that. He thought that Tina's death would stay unsolved, that you would put all your resources into solving the latest murder. At best, you would hope they were committed by the same person.” Susan dropped her head and started sobbing again. Mcleary moved over to her and gently rubbed her back.

“Then he said the most awful things. Things I thought he would never say. He said that Carmella probably deserved it, out all hours, stopping for a bunk up as he called it. He used some terrible language. Then he was saying that Tina was a good girl, which I agree with, but it doesn't make Carmella bad. Nobody deserves what happened to her. You would think he would understand that.”

Susan admitted it was her who lost her temper then. It was her throwing the plates around and her turn to scream. They started arguing about anything then, just trying to score points to win. Reed and Kate had had a few bust ups too, letting lots of little things build up that were only worth mentioning during an argument already in full flow. Point scoring.

“I've never acted like that before. Alan was shocked. He just stared at me, then without saying a word, he left. Tina was his whole world. I don't think he'll ever get over it.”

“Do you know where he's gone?”

“Work I'd imagine. He's due to start at six, so he probably just went in early. He's left his phone here.”

“Where does he work? Reed asked.

“Thetford. He's a supervisor on the night shift at a company called Gleens.”

Reed tried very hard not to show his surprise. Gleens. The company where Lee Gulliver worked. This could be a link between Gulliver and Tina. “How long has he worked there?” Reed thought he was using his best neutral voice. Obviously failing by the look he was now receiving from Mcleary.

“At least 12 years. He was there when the company started.”

“Likes it there then?”

“Yes. Most of his friends work there. Why?” Susan asked, getting suspicious now.

“Nothing important. I was just wondering if there was someone there he could talk to, you know, because he's upset.” Reed hoped it seemed genuine.

“I don't think Alan talks to anyone about that sort of thing.”

“That's fine. I might just pop in there, make sure that's where he is and he's working as usual. I know the owner so I won’t cause a fuss. I'll ring and let you know if you want?”

“Yes. I'd appreciate it.”

“No problem.” No problem at all.

Chapter 14

Reed pulled into the Gleen’ factory car park where there was a scattering of about twenty cars, but he couldn't see any sign of Alan Westwood's. With so many empty spaces available Reed chose to park right outside the main reception in the only area that didn't have an actual parking space, feeling a little satisfaction that he had broken a rule of some sorts. He got out and banged his hand against the main door. Nothing. Pulling a cigarette from the pack, he decided to hang around for a little while and see if Alan turned up. He left his car where it was but went and sat on a concrete step where he would be hidden.

Turning his thoughts back to the case, Reed was desperate for the DNA results to come back on the earring found at the murder site. If Gulliver's DNA was found on them, Reed was pretty sure Gulliver was the killer. They could have been a gift to Carmella from Gulliver so he would have touched them at some stage, but there was something about his reaction when Reed had mentioned them in the interview that signaled some kind of significance.

The evidence was starting to stack up but most of it was circumstantial: Gulliver was the last known person to see her; he had the opportunity to kill her and dispose of the body. He had lied to the police about his route home and somewhere in amongst it all was a set of earrings. Or earring. If this little piece of jewellery could provide some factual evidence, Gulliver at the very least had some explaining to do.

Just to distort the picture a little, there was now a possible link to an unsolved murder from 10 years ago which happened in similar circumstances. Did Gulliver know Tina Westwood? Did anyone know if Gulliver knew Tina Westwood? Was Gulliver capable of killing twice? Once even? He didn't seem like a serial killer in the making but then Reed hadn't actually come face to face with one before.

It was now 6.20pm; twenty minutes after the beginning of Alan's shift. Reed decided he would take a little look around the place. He had spotted some movement in the building where they had chased down Gulliver, so he started there. The muffled sound of music got clearer as he approached; a few tunes to help pass the hours for the workers, although from the heavy bass that was almost shaking the doors, Reed thought it would probably make his day feel longer. He walked down the side of the building instead of going in and it wasn't long before he saw Alan's car parked with two others. Maybe it was one of the perks of being a supervisor, being able to park your car out the back, lessening the chances of a break in and stereo out.

“Can I help you mate?” Someone shouted.

Reed turned around and spotted a man approaching him from about 30 metres away. He was wearing dark blue overalls, a black cap and bright white trainers. He was about 5' 6” and looked about seven stone. From that distance, the man's features reminded Reed of a rat. Beady eyes, pursed mouth and a sharp nose. “That depends on who you are?” He replied.

“Gandhi. Who the hell are you?”

“Detective Inspector Reed.” A fact that was backed up by his ID card when the man was closer.

“Sorry mate, there are a lot of weirdoes about.”

Reed resisted the urge to say “So I see.” Instead saying, “So Gandhi, what's your real name?”

“Mark Parsons.”

When Gulliver was questioned regarding the earrings found at his flat, Mark Parsons was the person that he said he had bought the earrings from. Tyler had informed Reed of this only a little while ago, having put the question to Gulliver before he was released on bail. Apparently Mark Parsons was somebody who had a knack of finding things that had fallen off the back of lorries. Lucky him.

Lucky Reed.

“I see. Now that's a spot of luck.”

“What? You after me?”

“Yes and no. I have a couple of questions for you but I wouldn't say I was ‘after’ you.”

Parsons seemed to weigh up his options, eyes shifting from one place to another. Reed got the impression this wasn't the first time he had dealt with the law.

“Ten minutes here or a couple of hours at the station? I can't keep things quiet at the station either.” Reed said, hoping to avoid the paperwork.

“Yeah, go on then. Do you mind if we head for the smoking shed though?”

“Be my guest.”

When they got there, Parsons hesitated, wondering if he should offer Reed a duty free cigarette. If they really were duty free cigarettes of course. Nowadays there were cheap imitations of duty frees which could be even more dangerous than the real branded ones. Now that was a scary thought. Reed declined the offer and got one of his own, duty paid and still just as likely to kill you.

When Parsons had called it a smoking shed, he had been over-generous in the description. It was two stacks of wooden pallets, three metres apart. The roof was made from plastic corrugated sheets which were held down with a scattering of bricks; two bricks had been wedged underneath the roofing at the front so the rain could run off. Genius.

“I hear you get your hands on various knock-off gear?” Reed went straight in.

“Not really. I know a bargain when I see one, then I sell it on, that's all.” Parsons replied a well-rehearsed speech.

“Look Mark, I don't care if it's legal or not. I don't care if you go out thieving things yourself and sell it on,” Parsons was going to protest but Reed held up his hand to stop him, “What I do care about is that you are telling me the truth.”

Parsons again weighed up his options, doing a deal in his head, pros and cons, smoking and looking at Reed to see if he could be trusted. He seemed to realise there was no haggling going on here, “What do you need to know?”

“Can you remember selling some earrings to Lee Gulliver?”

“Remember it well, most people just buy a pair for the missus but Lee bought a few.”

Gulliver's story checked out. If anything then, he had given the earrings to Carmella. Maybe he was taking his gift back for some reason. Reed wondered where Tina Chapman's missing earrings came from?

“Is Gulliver a bit of a ladies man then?”

“Talks a good game.” Parsons replied with a neutral shrug.

“Do you know when you sold them to him?”

“You've got to be talking a good ten years ago.”

“Can you remember how many pairs he had off you?”

“I think it was ten. I done them a bit cheaper 'cause he had a few.” Parsons was nodding his head confirming his thoughts. If Parsons was correct about the number of earrings he had sold Gulliver, ten pairs, then Gulliver was only talking a good game. Or he was stingy with his gifts. Six pairs had been recovered from his flat.

“Can you remember who you sold the others to?”

“Can Richard Branson remember who he sold a flight to? You'll have to be more specific.”

“Alan Westwood?”

“I wouldn't sell him a virus. Grumpy old prick. I know he's been through a lot and that, but he wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs before his daughter... You know.” Parsons stamped out his cigarette butt on the floor and left it there in the absence of an ashtray. No one yet able to scrounge the materials to make one. “So no, I didn't sell him any.”

Reed told Parsons that if he kept their little interview quiet, he would do the same regarding his little empire selling dodgy goods. Parsons confirmed Alan was in work, his state of mind: happy as ever. He also confirmed that he had that particular batch of earrings at least ten years ago. He remembered giving his then girlfriend a pair and she was really happy with them until she found all the others. “Said it made her feel cheap.” Parsons laughed at his own story, shaking his head at happier times. Reed felt a pang of sadness in his stomach; soon it would be him remembering happier times about Kate. Which was exactly what he did when he started to walk away.

Reed pulled on to his driveway and noted Kate's car wasn't there. Was she with her new man? Doing what? It wasn't worth thinking about. Where was Evie? Had they both gone? Would there be a note waiting for him inside, putting an end to the way of life he had become accustomed to? Maybe he had taken things for granted, assumed this was how it was always going to be and stopped working at keeping it. Should you have to work at relationships?

Reluctant to go inside, Reed stayed in the car and lit a cigarette before trying to clear the negative thoughts from his head the best he could. Just as he was managing to swing them back to work matters, a pair of headlights took him by surprise in the rear view mirror. Kate. In a sort of un-needed panic, he somehow dropped his cigarette in his lap. “Shit!” Kate was out of her car, reaching into the back for something. Reed burnt his finger first, then his inner thigh. “Shit!” Checking the side mirror, she was now walking up behind him, with very few options, he spilled out of his car and started to flap his hands in the general direction of the hot ash and the cigarette on the seat, swiping at them, trying not to burn himself.

Kate carried on walking without breaking her stride, ignoring Reed and the smoke cloud that surrounded him. Feeling like a naughty schoolboy who had been caught smoking behind the bike sheds at school, Reed stubbed out the rogue cigarette which was now on the floor and wondered if a form of detention was going to be given when he went inside.

He was grateful that Kate had at least acknowledged his presence by kindly leaving the front door wide open. As he removed his shoes he heard a sort of musical arrangement being played out in the kitchen with crockery as the instruments. It was a slow, disjointed song, much like a classical love song, meaning it was probably safe to enter. If it had been more like a rock song, with loud bangs and crashes inspired by him smoking again, he would have left his shoes on and left the house for an hour or so.

“I've ordered Chinese for tea, should be here in a minute.” Kate said, adding the salt pot and vinegar bottle to the arrangement of two plates, two knives, two forks and two wine glasses already out.

“Lovely.” Was all Reed could manage, surprised by the cheeriness in her voice. He picked up the full glass of wine and gulped at it greedily.

“You should be savouring that, it wasn't cheap.”

Reed finished it up anyway, made a show of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before saying, “Oh I'm savouring it alright.”

They both smiled, Reed feeding off Kate's happiness. For a few moments, they just looked at one another; it was comfortable enough for the pair of them, having shared silence together numerous times. Reed was leaning on his shoulder against the door frame between the lounge and the kitchen, Kate was leaning back against the kitchen unit, sipping at her wine, savouring it, peeking at him from behind the rim of the glass. Then they were interrupted by the flash of headlights coming in through the lounge window.

“That'll be the food. The money's on the table.” Kate said, still savouring her wine. Reed watched her for a second more as she took another sip; he was hanging on to the moment the best he could. What he was feeling he couldn't really say but it was a nice one. A good feeling for a change.

Realising he was fighting a losing battle, knowing the delivery driver would soon interrupt them, he gave in and made his way across the lounge. He ignored the money on the table and reached for his own wallet so he could play a part in Kate's gesture by paying for the food. It was the least he could do as she had gone to the effort to order it for them both. He didn't know why she had done it, but he was determined to enjoy this current feeling and hoped that it would last.

As he walked through the lounge, just a few steps away from the hallway, he was interrupted by an almighty crack.

The first thing he registered were the shards of glass hitting his face. Then he heard Kate screaming...

Chapter 15

Reed had managed a grand total of three hours’ sleep before his phone had started ringing. It was now 4.43am.

“It's Nic Anderson, he's been arrested.” Plumridge panted down the phone. Reed was rubbing his eyes, trying to force some life into them. “Sir?”

“Yes, I'm here. What's he done?” Reed asked.

“He was found at Carmella Chapman's murder site, he was masturbating. Can you believe that?”

“No, not really. I also can't believe that this couldn't have waited.”

“Sorry, sir. Whitehead phoned me and said you weren't answering your mobile so could I try and get hold of you.”

“Well you've got hold of me now. Well done.”

There was a slight pause before Plumridge found the courage to say “Sir, Whitehead wants you at the station now.” There was another pause, then Plumridge thought it was better that he fill the silence, “He said it was your case so it's your problem.”

“When it bloody suits him it's my case, like when something goes wrong or somebody gets arrested in the middle of the night. It doesn't stop him putting his beak in though, does it?” Reed was wide awake now.

“Sorry, sir.”

“I know it's not your fault Plummy. I'm sorry.”

“Console yourself that I'm awake too and I'm not even in charge.”

“What does Whitehead want us to do?”

“He wants us to interview Anderson whilst he's still hyped up.”

“Oh yes, just what I need, a horny sex offender in the middle of the night.”

Plumridge laughed out loud. Reed even managed a smile himself.

First stop when Reed got to the station was the coffee machine. As bad as it tasted, it was a welcome boost of caffeine and very much needed. Plumridge was off somewhere trying to locate the arresting officer. Reed was sat down, enjoying the quiet of the murder inquiry room. He wished it could be this quiet all the time; he'd get a lot more work done. Most days it seemed that he couldn't walk five steps before somebody needed him for something. If he sought a few minutes solace in his own office, chances were that one person would spot him and spread the word. There was no let up at the moment. Work in the middle of the night, a relationship that was breaking down and just to top it off some funny guy had thrown a brick through his lounge window last night.

Plumridge came back with PC Wilkinson, the arresting officer. Wilkinson had been assigned the laugh-a-minute job of watching the murder site with PC Burn. After a routine check of the perimeter, Wilkinson heard a rustling sound on the opposite side of the cordoned off area. Having watched too many films, Wilkinson turned his torch on and positioned it in a tree pointing slightly away from where the noises were coming from, he and Burn then made their way around the perimeter. Once they had identified that someone was actually there and they weren't just imagining it, Wilkinson executed a rugby tackle while Burn flicked on his torch. The sight that greeted him was one of his colleagues wrestling a man who had his trousers and underwear down by his ankles and was obviously still in an aroused state.

Wilkinson had pinned the man's arms in such a way and with such speed that the offence appeared to be still going on: Nic Anderson had his erect penis in his hand. Burn had admitted that he wasn't sure whether to help his workmate or take a photo of him.

Reed felt sorry for Wilkinson, this set of events would follow him throughout his whole career and would go down in policing history. After establishing that Anderson was about fifteen metres from where Carmella's blood was discovered, Reed let Wilkinson go, congratulating him on his work but fearing the worst for his future.

When Reed and Plumridge entered the interview room, Anderson didn't even look up. His body followed the contours of the chair he was sitting on, knees at right angles and his back vertical, the only part that looked out of place was his head, which was hanging down looking at his lap. He looked like a schoolboy waiting for the headmaster.

Plumridge did the formalities, putting the tapes in the tape-recorder, introducing everyone present, giving the time, date and stating that Anderson had refused legal representation. Reed got himself comfortable in his seat and straightened out the paperwork in front of him. “Mr. Anderson, you were arrested at 1.38am today at Thetford Common on the Bury Road for a lewd act. This took place just outside a cordoned off area that is believed to be the place where Carmella Chapman was killed. The murder of Carmella Chapman is a case that you have been questioned in connection with, do you agree?”

Anderson raised his head and locked eyes with Reed. Anderson's hair was as thick with grease now as it had been the last time he had been interviewed. There was still some debris sticking to it from his scuffle with PC Wilkinson, a leaf, a small twig. Some of his hair had escaped from behind his ears and settled directly down the middle of his forehead, running in line with his nose. It gave him the appearance of wearing an old Saxon helmet.

“Could you answer the question for the purpose of the tape please Mr. Anderson?” Reed said.

“Yes. But you let me go after interviewing me.” Anderson said defiantly.

“True, but you were only helping us with our enquiries then, now you’ve been arrested.” Reed countered, leaving a few seconds silence for it to sink in. “Tell me why you were there.”

Anderson shrugged, “I don't know.”

“You must know. You drove near to Thetford Common, got out of your car, crept fairly quietly to a specific place, dropped your trousers and started masturbating. Why? It doesn't sound like an impulsive thing to do.”

Anderson's face had begun to lower again, looking at his own lap. “I... I don't know.” He whispered.

“You do know, you're just not saying, there's a difference. Are you going to tell us why you were there?” Reed asked. Anderson's head dropped even further, his chin resting on his chest. Reed took this as a sign that Anderson didn't want to talk. It took every bit of Reed's self-control not to blow his top with anger. He wanted this interview over. He wanted to get some sleep before he had to get back to work at his normal starting time. He wanted to call Kate and make sure she was OK. She had gone to stay at her sister's house after their window had been smashed, saying she didn't feel safe. Reed had boarded up the window himself and put the offending stone in a plastic bag. He would pull a few strings in the forensics department and hope for a fingerprint.

Reed decided he would have one of his wishes right now. He had asked a question and was waiting for an answer; if Anderson chose not to speak, Reed would just have a little sleep while he waited. He folded his arms on the table and rested his head on top of them. Whitehead might have a word or two to say about his interviewing technique but what the hell, he wasn't rated too highly in that department at the moment anyway.

Reed wasn't sure how long it had been, it could have been two minutes or two hours. When Anderson did speak though, it was quiet and reluctant. It wasn't the volume at which he spoke that woke Reed, it was the words themselves that had a similar effect to someone firing a shotgun by his ear.

Had Reed heard him right? One look at Plumridge's face suggested he had but he still looked to Anderson for confirmation.

“What did you say?”

“I didn't kill Carmella Chapman and neither did Lee Gulliver.”

Chapter 16

Reed sat bolt upright, he was trying to process what Anderson had just said. His head was a little foggy from his snooze. “How do you know that Gulliver didn't kill Carmella Chapman?”

“I saw him come home that night.”

“So? He could have come home after he killed her.” Reed said, already trying to pick holes in the story, desperate not to lose his main suspect to someone who obviously knew something he didn’t.

“No. I don't think so.” Anderson was speaking with a new found confidence. Finally playing what he thought was his trump card.

“What time did you see him come home?”

“It was 12.50”

Reed quickly did the mathematics in his head. If Anderson was telling the truth, Gulliver was unlikely to have had time to kill Carmella, move her body and get home by that time. “How did you see him come home? According to your statement you arrived home at 12.30 and yet you seem certain that you saw Gulliver get home at 12.50. You're lying about something, which bit is it?”

Anderson didn't answer. “Mr. Anderson, could you answer the question please?” Reed was trying to hurry an answer so Anderson couldn't fabricate an answer.

“I...”

“What?!” Reed slammed his fist down on the table in frustration.

“I was watching his flat.” Anderson finally spat out.

Reed calmed himself and gathered his thoughts, “Why were you watching his flat?”

“I just... I watch his flat because of the girls. He has girls round there.” Anderson hung his head down, ashamed at his own words.

Reed believed him. It made sense, Anderson was a sex offender trying to keep on the right path but needing to get his thrills somehow, so it seemed feasible he would spy on somebody else to get them. Reed also remembered David Jones voicing his concerns about Gulliver's interest in young girls.

“Is it fair to say you admired Gulliver a little?”

“I suppose so.” Anderson answered.

“Or were you more... jealous?” Reed probed.

“No!” Anderson said, his head flipping up again. Reed tilted his chair back a little and let the silence work on Anderson's conscience. Reed tried to keep eye contact with him but Anderson's eyes were flitting around the room. Something wasn't sitting right with all this but Reed couldn't put his finger on it. Something about tonight.

“Look Nic,” Reed started, trying the friendly approach. “I know you've had your problems in the past but all I'm interested in is the here and now. I believe what you're saying about watching Gulliver. Are you sure about the time you saw him?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I make a mental note of the time so, you know, I can keep an eye out next time.”

“Fair enough.” Reed paused, tapped his fingers on the table. “Is there anyone else you keep an eye out for? Or admire?”

“No. I never meant to watch him, it's just that one night when I came home I heard some giggling and popped my head round the corner to have a look and there he was with a couple of girls going into his flat. I walked past his window a couple of times and saw them... having sex. The three of them.” Anderson said, showing signs of enjoying the story as he told it.

“Was Carmella one of the girls?”

“No, I don't think so. This was ages ago. He never keeps the same one for long, Carmella was just his latest one.”

Reed nodded his head in an almost understanding way. “OK. Let's leave it there for now and get some rest, we'll pick this up again in the morning. You'll have to stay here I'm afraid.”

Anderson nodded, sensing he had Reed on side. Maybe that he even had a friend in all of this, which was exactly how Reed wanted him to feel.

Reed arrived home just before 6am. He lay down on the sofa, just about mustering enough energy to set the alarm on his phone for 8am. He would have gone to bed but there was nothing there for him. He had never spent the night on a sofa with Kate, so he couldn't miss her there. If he went to bed, he'd expect to feel her soft, smooth skin next to his and it wouldn't feel right without it.

It felt like only five minutes had passed when his phone started vibrating on his chest, he switched it off quickly before the ascending volume of a cockerel really kicked in. Reed started to get himself up before being halted by what felt like someone cutting the muscles on the right-hand-side of his neck with a spoon. This is why you shouldn't sleep on a sofa; he had obviously got himself in some unnatural position during his short sleep and would pay for it for the rest of the day.

He had about an hour before he was scheduled to sit down with DCI Whitehead and tell him about Anderson's interview. It had been Whitehead who had insisted on Reed conducting the interview in the middle of the night and then he had arranged a briefing for 9am. Reed couldn't help thinking that this wasn't a mistake on Whitehead's part.

Reed managed to peel himself away from the sofa and climb wearily up the stairs. Catching his reflection in the full sized mirror at the end of the landing, he stopped. His clothes were crumpled, he needed a shave, his hair looked as though it had been rubbed with a balloon, and there were big black bags under his eyes. He looked just as bad as he felt.

As he brushed his teeth he had a sudden wave of joy wash over him. Rather than tidy himself up, he would show Whitehead the results of what he had missed whilst tucked up in bed. After changing his underwear, Reed took great pleasure in putting his creased clothes back on. With a quick spray of deodorant for his own self-respect, he felt good to go.

After receiving a few curious looks from people who were too polite to ask about his appearance, Reed gave Whitehead a rundown on the interview with Anderson. Surprisingly, he didn't have too many complaints. That might change if the tapes were required to be played in court. Audio or visual, they were both likely to pick up any snoring. After rejecting Whitehead's offer to go home to ‘freshen up’, Reed started to feel better by the minute.

Plumridge had just delivered Reed's third coffee of the day when Nic Anderson was led into the interview room. He beamed a smile in Reed's direction which wasn't returned. Anderson looked offended. The two officers waited for permission to remove the handcuffs before sitting Anderson in his chair.

“Sleep well?” Reed began.

“Yes. Fine.”

“I didn't. Something's troubling me. If Gulliver was the only one you admired or whatever you want to call it, why were you pleasuring yourself at Carmella Chapman's murder site?” Reed held out his hands palm up for effect before continuing, “Here's my theory: you think Lee Gulliver took Carmella there, had sex with her and then killed her.”

“No!” Anderson's eyes expanded to a fixed stare.

“I haven't finished yet.” Reed stated while imitating Anderson's wide eyed stare. “You did see Gulliver, I believe that much. I'm not so sure about the time though. I think the fear of seeing your hero; your only friend of any sorts being arrested and taken away from you has forced you to bend the truth a little.”

Anderson's face was the colour of hot embers, rage shining through his eyes like torches. There may even have been the beginning of a tear forming.

“Well?” Reed shouted.

There was enough force in the question to break Anderson's stare. He blinked sporadically as his eyes returned to human proportions. Reed's didn't. A wry smile came across Anderson's face before he said loud and clear, “I think he fucked her, yeah. And good on him.”

Reed was out of his chair before Anderson had even finished his sentence. Life was about choices; choices that could affect your whole future. Reed could jump across the table and pummel Nic Anderson to the floor like he wanted to, leading to his career going much the same way as his marriage, or he could leave.

Chapter 17

Reed headed straight for the main exit so he could light a cigarette and try to calm down. A journey which was made longer than it needed to be as he had been forced into a detour from his normal route after hearing Whitehead's voice booming down one of the corridors. Other than that it was a clear run. It had taken all of Reed's restraint not to react to Anderson's comments about Gulliver and Carmella.

Once he was inhaling greedily from his cigarette, Reed admitted to himself that he was well and truly addicted again, but in truth, he wasn't overly concerned by the fact. It felt good to add to the destruction of his life. Punishment to himself for not doing the right thing by Carmella's memory. He wasn't having much luck through the correct channels of police work and he had been too much of a coward to do it through any other.

If Anderson was telling the truth about when he saw Gulliver arrive home, and it was a big if, then Gulliver would have been hard pushed to have killed Carmella and dispose of her body before returning home. Time would have been tight but Gulliver's car didn't exactly scream ‘sensible driver.’ A fact that was reinforced by him being caught speeding on the night that Carmella was killed.

Nic Anderson had also been caught speeding just a few minutes after Gulliver. Had he followed them to the end of Carmella's road and taken her? Had he been familiar enough to Carmella from around the town and the block of flats where Gulliver lived for her not to be alarmed? Maybe he fabricated a story about Gulliver in order to gain her trust.

Had Gulliver killed her not knowing he was being watched by Anderson before running away, leaving Anderson to hide the body? Maybe it was more simplistic than that and Anderson was just lying about the time Gulliver had got home. There were too many grey areas and not enough clear cut facts. Reed needed the DNA from the earring found at the murder site.

Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine the chain of events that happened that night. Gulliver had given Carmella a lift home from the club, that was a fact backed up with CCTV footage. Despite Gulliver's lie, they knew he turned right off the A11 at the Elveden crossroads onto the A1075, where he was caught by a speed camera before passing Thetford Common on the Bury Road.

They could have stopped at the Common before having an argument, or his advances were rejected and he got angry, picking up a stone and hitting her on the head with it. Trying to predict what someone would do after they had just killed someone was way beyond Reed's imagination. What they did know was that the killer had tried to muddy the waters a little by moving the body. If it was Gulliver, and Anderson was telling the truth, he would have had to have been quick. Maybe after lashing out he checked her pulse and panicked before trying to hide her body. Then there was the bleach; whoever killed Carmella had had the presence of mind to try and cover any DNA evidence by saturating her body with bleach. It was a cold and calculating act by a cold and calculating killer. Was the bleach the key to all of this? Was it a statement from the same person who had killed Tina Westwood?

Then there was the earrings, was that another statement? There had definitely been one missing from Tina and potentially two missing from Carmella. Were they little trophies taken by the killer?

Gulliver had links to both girls. It was undeniable that he knew Carmella and there was also the fact that he worked with Tina’s dad, Alan. It had been Reed’s intention to keep the two cases separate but maybe it was time to reveal their cards.

It was also a possibility that Anderson was a co-conspirator, with or without Gulliver's knowledge. Maybe Gulliver was telling the truth and he did drop Carmella off at the end of her road, allowing Anderson or someone else to pounce. Or he may have killed her and Anderson had tidied up for him so as not to lose his idol.

Driving at the speed restrictions in place, the journey from Carmella's body to Gulliver's flat would take twenty minutes assuming there were no hold ups from other traffic. Could Gulliver have made it in ten?

The scariest part was, if Anderson was telling the truth, it matched Gulliver's statement for the time he arrived home.

Had they concocted it together?

It was a very real possibility.

Tyler had agreed to meet Reed for lunch. He was waiting in his office for her to arrive and then they would head to The Stag pub just off the All in Attleborough. They would no doubt order their usual baguettes, bacon for Reed and tuna for Tyler. From there they would head over to the Chapman's house. Reed felt it was important for him to show his face and update them on the investigation where it was possible.

The Chapman’s knew Reed was in charge and would look to him personally to provide the answers regarding their daughter’s death. All their other hopes and dreams for Carmella had been cruelly snatched away; the only thing left for Carmella was her funeral and finding her killer. Eight days had passed since Carmella had been dumped in an overgrown urine-smelling pit. The least her parents deserved now was to know how and why it had happened and this was what kept Reed going.

During lunch with Tyler, Reed went through what had happened in the interview with Anderson. He couldn't remember if his food was nice or not, the taste got lost somewhere during the conversation, similar to when you're driving and the miles just disappear as you get lost in your thoughts. After eating, they traveled to the Chapman's house in silence. Both of them trying to make sense of their lunchtime conversations. Both of them failing.

Brenda Chapman opened the door and invited them in. She opened the patio doors and called her husband, Brian, in from the garden and waited for him to arrive before going to make some tea. He was wearing grey tracksuit trousers and a white t-shirt that were both covered in a thin layer of sawdust. He had facial hair which was, understandably, about four days old.

Whilst he waited for his wife to return, he recalled various stories of Carmella from when she was a baby through to just a week ago. It struck Reed that there would be no new memories to tell of. This seemed to dawn on Brian too as his laughter at a story he had just told merged seamlessly into crying.

Once they settled down with their drinks, Reed told them what he could without jeopardising the investigation. He felt a deep sense of guilt as the words came from his mouth, knowing he sounded too upbeat and felt he was giving the Chapmans false hope. He wasn't sure if it was for the Chapman's sake or his, trying to convince them all that they would catch the killer soon. Even if they did, Carmella would still be dead. Wanting to get out of the hole he was creating, he made a show of looking at his watch and making his excuses.

When they got outside, Tyler suggested that they see if the Westwoods were home. They needed to know if either Alan or Susan knew Lee Gulliver and, more importantly, if their daughter had.

They would have to be careful not to imply that Gulliver was too strong a suspect as Alan Westwood worked alongside him and might have to continue to do so.

Susan Westwood answered the door and welcomed them in like they were old friends. Despite them refusing, Susan went in the kitchen to put a pot of tea on in case they changed their minds. Reed stood from his chair and walked over to some photos that were on display on a mahogany unit.

There was one of Alan, Susan and Tina at the beach. Alan had his arm around his wife, and his daughter, who looked to be about six years old, was perched on his shoulders. Tina looked to be giggling uncontrollably; Susan was doing a cheeky pose in her swimsuit, while Alan looked like a different man from the one Reed had met. A happy man.

Susan came in holding a tray with all the ingredients for tea but only three cups.

“Is Alan not around?” Reed asked.

“No, he's gone to town. Then he's taking the dog to Thompson Water, he'll be gone for hours.”

Reed knew Thompson Water, he had spent a lot of time there when he was younger. He used to go night fishing there and it was a great place to gather your thoughts or lose them completely. A vast expanse of water was lined with reeds that housed a variety of wildlife. There was thick forest all around that had walkways snaking through it that could lead for miles without actually going anywhere.

“We can wait, if you want to call him?”

“No, that's fine. He doesn't have a phone anyway. Does he need to be here then?”

“It's not essential, we can talk to him another time. We were hoping to ask you both a couple of questions. Maybe you'll know the answers anyway.”

“You only missed him by a couple of minutes. He'll be a couple of hours like I said. Ever since Tina was killed, he just disappears into himself. And this latest murder has hit him really hard, bringing it all back.”

“You too, I would imagine?”

“Of course, yes.” Susan dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief as though to enforce the point, then carried on, “It opens up old wounds that you thought had healed. It's the worst thing that could happen to a parent, losing a child. I wouldn't wish it on anybody.”

Reed was surprised by how chatty Mrs. Westwood was but had to take full advantage. “Terrible.” He stated his understanding, “If you wouldn't mind, we'd like to ask a couple of questions? I don't want you to read too much into it, it's just some things that might fill in some blanks.”

“OK.” Susan said, brightening at the thought she could be of some help.

“Do you know somebody called Lee Gulliver?”

Susan took a few seconds to process the name before saying, “I do recognise it, but I can't remember why.”

“Did Tina mention it?”

“I don't know. I don't think so.” Susan's face had contorted a little from the torment of not knowing. A feeling she must have known all too well.

“Don't worry Mrs. Westwood, I can tell you, he works with your husband. Maybe Alan has mentioned him?”

“Yes, that's it.” Susan triumphed. “Alan attended a course with him. It was a two day course and finished on the same day as Carmella Chapman went missing. The Friday. It was a chemical mixing course for health and safety I think, something like that. What with Alan being in charge of the night shift, he has to stay up to date with these things. Lee Gulliver took the same course for the day shift.”

“Was this at the factory?” Reed asked.

“No. It was at Newmarket, some college there. Alan wasn't best pleased about going to college at his age.” Susan smiled.

“Did they go together?”

“They were on the same course but they went separately. Alan was booked into a hotel because he normally works nights and his boss didn't want him driving when he was tired. I think Lee Gulliver travelled back and forth each day.” Susan said cheerily before adding, “Which was probably a blessing for him.”

“Why's that?”

“Well, the hotel couldn't have been up too much. Alan stayed the first night, but he left early on the second.”

“Do you know what time he left?” Reed asked.

“I didn't ask, but I can tell you what time he got home. He scared the life out of me, I wasn't expecting him home you see. He scared me half to death when I heard the front door open. When I looked at the clock it was 1.18am.”

Reed managed to hide his shock a lot better than Tyler did. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her eyes widen. Luckily, Susan had been looking at Reed whilst she had been talking. She was still looking at Reed now. Waiting for some sort of response.

“I think that's everything then.” Reed said with a lightness he wasn't feeling. He couldn't really tell her that due to the information she had just given, her husband had now become a potential witness in Carmella Chapman's murder. Or a potential suspect.

Chapter 18

Reed was shattered. Emotionally and physically. It was 6.45am and he had been awake for over an hour. He felt tired but couldn't get back to sleep. Too tired is what some people called it, although he had never really understood that theory. After no more than two minutes of being awake and flicking his body around trying to find a comfortable position, thoughts of work and Kate had come flooding into his mind. Haunting him.

The previous evening, after Reed had explained to DCI Whitehead about Alan Westwood's whereabouts and the timing of him getting home on the night of Carmella’s murder, they had all agreed to sleep on the information before deciding what to do. Easier said than done in Reed's case. A night shift had been drafted in to investigate Alan Westwood a little closer. They would go through Alan's life with a fine-toothe comb, with the main focus being the level of suspicion surrounding his own daughter's death.

Having spent the night alone, Kate choosing to stay at her sister's house again, Reed had decided to phone her late last night just to make sure she was OK. She was. His daughter Evie was too busy playing and having fun with her cousins to talk to her dad so she was obviously OK too. His ears had started burning shortly after he had hung up the phone so he guessed his many failings were being discussed and agreed with at great length.

It was an interesting glimpse at his new life. Kate was leaving him, he was sure of it, she hadn't said as much but he could feel it. She had suggested some time apart and he couldn't help but think it would probably be for the rest of their lives. Did he want her back anyway? She had been spending time with another man, talking about anything and everything as they had once done together, laughing at each other's jokes. Slowly but surely, she was starting a new relationship in preparation of leaving him. She had already made her choice.

He knew he probably wasn't around as often as some other husbands were but it wasn't as if Kate was a strict nine-to-five person either. She worked all hours at the stables, including weekends. He couldn't help but wonder what her fancy man did for a living and how it fitted in so well with her new life?

He hadn't exactly relaxed during the evening last night either. He had tried to watch the TV but every time he heard a car outside he wondered if it was Kate. She might have needed some more clothes or she might have felt the urge to see him and sort this mess out. He wondered how he should look if she did come in? Relaxed? Sad? Happy to see her? He didn't know. She hadn't come home anyway. Maybe that was the real reason he hadn't slept.

Reed settled down in his office chair and wondered why his bed hadn't felt this comfortable. Having asked Tyler if she would mind fetching the report on Alan Westwood, knowing she would jump at the chance and that it would have been read by the time she delivered it to him, he had the time to relax a little. When she arrived, she could tell him the interesting parts if there were any.

“Airtight alibi, sir.” Tyler announced as she came through the door. Luckily, he had swiveled his chair around so that the back had been facing the door, this gave him a few valuable seconds to wake up and put his 'alert' face on.

“What was it?” he mumbled.

“He was thirty minutes into his shift at work at the time of Tina's death. Fourteen people confirmed it.”

“Anything else in there?” Reed nodded in the direction of the folder in Tyler's hand.

“Nothing really. He showed hostility towards officers as the investigation ran its course. Understandable really.”

He agreed. The police never caught his daughter's killer and that was enough to piss anybody off. Tyler took a seat opposite him and he was glad that despite him being her superior, she was comfortable enough not to be asked to sit. Tyler was chewing her bottom lip as she always did when she was thinking; Reed was watching her do it as he always did.

The shrill of the office phone snapped them both back to reality. Snatching angrily at the receiver he barked, “Reed.”

“Charming as ever I see.” John Fleming said. He was one of the lab technicians from forensics.

“John, please tell me you've got something on the earring?”

“Straight to the point. Lovely to hear from you too old mate.”

Reed and Fleming had played on the same pool team many years ago, done pretty well too. There was still the odd trophy kicking about somewhere to prove it. They had spent a lot of time together socially when they had both been uniformed officers, but things had changed when Reed had got married, had a child and gained a couple of promotions. This was hard for Fleming to understand as he was 40 years old going on 20, single, and living the lifestyle to suit.

“Sorry John, how are things?” Reed conceded to small talk.

“If you really wanted to know, you would have asked without me having to prompt you. I'll forgive you. Yes we have a match on the earring.”

After a short silence Reed prompted, “Mind telling me who?”

“First off, I've got some news on that rock that was thrown through your window. We don't have a match exactly but the DNA profile shows it to be a relation to you. More than likely a child, so unless it's a love-child you haven't told me about, I'm guessing Evie threw it.” Fleming explained, revealing a compassionate tone to his voice that Reed didn't know existed.

A pang of shame and guilt hit him in the depth off his stomach. The shame was the fact that Evie would do such a thing and the guilt came from his part in her behaviour by being a rubbish father and failure of a husband. Evie had been staying at her Nan’s house on the night the window was smashed. Why was she out unsupervised and what sort of crowd was she mixing with that were willing to drive a 13 year old to smash a window at her own home? “OK. Thanks.” Reed said, desperate to change the subject he asked “What about the earring?”

“If you promise me a pint?” Fleming said, returning to type.

“I'll get you ten, just tell me.”

“Promise?”

“I fucking promise. Jesus!”

Fleming, to his credit, picked up on his mood and switched from friend to work colleague with practiced ease.

“The earring you found at Carmella Chapman's murder site wasn't Carmella's.” Reed felt all hope evaporate. “It was Tina Westwood's.”

“Holy shit!” Reed said. Tyler looked on expectantly.

“We also have a partial fingerprint.” Fleming continued, pausing for effect. Reed was speechless with anticipation. His heartbeat had quickened to that of a marathon runner's. It might be Alan's fingerprint and that would mean nothing. They had lived together as father and daughter.

“Who?” He finally managed. His mouth dry. He was hating every second of Fleming's game of suspense but couldn't muster the anger to tell him.

“David Jones.” He finally spat out.

Reed explained the DNA results first to Tyler, then to Whitehead, who was only too happy to share some of his wisdom about investigating the obvious suspects, but investigating the less obvious ones even harder. It was as though he knew how it was all going to pan out and he had been waiting for everybody else to catch on. After pointing out a few other things Reed could have approached differently, Whitehead let him get on with trying to catch Carmella's murderer.

Tyler phoned Butler's Garage to see if David Jones was at work. He was. She asked whoever answered the phone to promise they would keep the current conversation a secret. When she wasn't satisfied by the reply, she threatened that charges of wasting police time could be enforced. Happy with the response this time, she hung up.

Reed drove his car with Tyler as his passenger, his confidence in its performance was slowly returning since it had been repaired. He thought it was funny that David Jones had fixed the car that was now coming to arrest him. They were followed by a marked police car and a standby warning had been issued to other officers in the area just in case of any trouble.

Adrenalin was flowing and it caused a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. Was this it? The breakthrough they needed? As unexpected as it was, David Jones obviously had a disliking of Gulliver. Was Jones trying to pin Carmella's murder on Gulliver? How did Tina Westwood and her earring fit into all this? Had Jones killed them both?

Reed's phone rang. The caller display said it was Whitehead.

“You can get that.” He said, gesturing to Tyler with his chin.

“You what?”

“Tell him the hands free thingy is playing up.”

Tyler reluctantly picked up the phone. “Sir, DI Reed is driving, can I take a message?”

“Yes you bloody well can. Two actually. Tell him not to use you as his secretary, he's not that privileged.” Tyler had turned the phone away from her own ear so it was pointing in Reed's direction, letting Whitehead's volume make up the distance between the two and pass on his own messages. “And, as he's the one driving, tell him to steer the car towards the Gleens factory. There's a situation.”

Tyler snapped the phone back to her own ear. Reed was straining to listen in again but without much luck. Tyler hung up shortly after.

“Well?”

“He said we'll see when we get there, Steve Garrood will be expecting us. The boys in blue will pick Jones up.” Tyler said.

Reed wondered what could be more important than Jones right now? Whitehead probably just wanted him away from the action so he couldn't mess it up. The marked police car turned off at the Watton/Thetford roundabout heading to Butler's Garage. Reed tried guessing how it would go for the officers? David Jones seemed nice enough, a man who didn't take kindly to Gulliver hitting on young girls, especially Jones' own sister, but how far would he go to show Gulliver the error of his ways? Murder a young girl? Would he go quietly with the officers or try to run away? And what the hell was waiting for Reed and Tyler when they got to Gleen factory?

When they turned into the factory car park there didn't seem to be anything untoward going on so they pulled up near to the main reception. They had barely unfastened their seat belts when the rapping of knuckles on the car window made them both physically jump. Steve Garrood was the anxious looking culprit outside. Reed lowered his window.

“I hope you didn't mind me asking for you personally?”

Well yes actually. “No, of course not. What's the problem?”

“It's Alan. Alan Westwood. He's up on the factory roof.”

Reed knew what that could mean but tried to block the thought. “Have you spoken to him? Is he threatening anything?”

“No. He's fairly calm. I think he's drinking up there. I didn't want to cause too much fuss, that's why I asked for you, but... there's a look in his eyes...” Garrood let the sentence fade away.

“When you say he's on top of the roof, is he at the edge?” Tyler asked, obviously fearing the same.

“No, but... I was worried enough to call.” Garrood said with a shrug, confirming that he too was fearing a nasty outcome.

Alan Westwood's daughter had been murdered and her killer was never reprimanded. Now, just as he had managed to carve out an existence of sorts, the murder of another girl who was of a similar age had happened in the same area and in similar circumstances, stirring up old emotions to the surface again. He'd done well to get through it once, but twice...

Garrood led the way down the same alley that took you to the smoking hut Reed had been to with Mark Parsons. After passing the hut and reaching the end of the alleyway, they turned to the left and headed towards the massive building in front of them. The walls were brick built from the floor to about a third of the way up, the rest of the wall was sheet cladding leading to what appeared to be a flat roof.

“We shouldn't draw too much attention coming round here. This building is always getting broken into so police visits are quite normal. It's a storage unit for finished products. Me and Alan used to have our lunch break up here in the summer months. This was before Health and Safety put an end to it.” Garrood said.

They stopped at the bottom of some metal steps on the outside of the building that led to the roof, Reed told Tyler to give Whitehead a call, he wanted an ambulance called but wanted it to arrive discreetly. Tyler started to operate her phone as he gestured for Garrood to carry on.

The steps clanged loudly under foot despite their best efforts to tip-toe quickly. Garrood moved with surprising speed, Reed consoled himself with the thought that whilst he might be slower than the man twenty years his senior, he was being quieter.

Nearing the top of the stairs but not yet on the roof, both men stopped and looked for any signs of Alan. Was he still up here? He might have needed a little time to himself and had now gone down to a safer level. It had been twenty minutes since Reed had received the phone call from Whitehead and a few scenarios washed through Reed's mind. Not all of them good.

There were air vents and skylights protruding from various positions across the roof. A waist-high wall had been built on the perimeter to stop anyone tripping over the edge, but it wasn't much of an obstacle to anyone who wanted to go over. There was a scattering of green gravel across the roof and there was what looked like a brick built shed set in the far left hand corner. This was probably an access point from inside the building.

The metal stairs started to vibrate a little as Tyler began her climb. This made Reed realise how still he had been standing. His body was tense and he had to force his muscles to relax a little before looking at Garrood for some indication as to where Alan Westwood was. Garrood nodded in the direction of the brick building, “He's behind there.”

When Tyler reached the top, she was instructed to come with him but to keep her distance. She nodded her approval and fell into line as they walked across the roof. The gravel that had once been stuck down with roofing tar had been worked loose and made a crunching sound as they walked across it. With no way of arriving unannounced, Reed shouted, “Alan! Alan, it's the police!”

There was no reply.

Reed walked a large arc around the brick hut to try and improve his field of vision; Alan Westwood was sat with his back against the wall that surrounded the roof's edge. His head was hung low, looking down between his slightly parted legs.

“Alan, it's DI Reed. Are you OK?”

Alan didn't move a muscle. Reed wondered if he had drunk himself unconscious, “Alan?”

“I heard you the first time.” Alan said but didn't look up. He was dressed in blue jeans, a red t-shirt and black shoes. His words were slightly slurred.

“Your wife is worried about you.” Reed said for want of a better opening gambit.

“She always worries. Always fussing about nothing. Ever since Tina was killed, she treats me like the flaming child in the family.”

Tyler appeared at the opposite side of the brick building as Reed moved closer to Alan. “This must be a difficult time for both of you.”

Without speaking, Alan rose to his feet with a slow caution of somebody who had been drinking and wasn't sure of the effects. There was a half empty bottle of whisky sat by the wall. Alan steadied himself before looking at Reed. Then, with a quickness that was totally unexpected, Alan charged, making up the three metres or so between them, he wrapped his hands around Reed's throat before there was time to react. They both tumbled to the floor, Alan letting the body beneath him break the fall so he could keep his grip on Reed's throat. Their eyes were locked. Reed's filled with fear, Alan's with hatred.

Alan's face was red with rage as he shouted, “You have no fucking idea how hard it is!”

Reed felt the alcohol smelling air hiss across his face as the words came out. Spittle hitting his skin. Tyler came into view over Alan's shoulder with her police baton raised.

“Get off him. Now!”

Alan didn't look at Tyler. He didn't release his grip either, his skin and eyes were now a matching shade of crimson, anger still flowing through his veins and his eyes bloodshot from drink. Reed guessed he must have had a similar complexion too through a lack of oxygen, as though one of the men was looking into a mirror.

“Now!” Tyler shouted as she shook the telescopic baton to its full, attacking length.

Alan slowly eased his grip. He laboured to a standing position without taking his eyes off the man now hacking and coughing below him, a man who was now gripping at his own throat giving the impression that he had somehow enjoyed the pressure there. Alan retreated to his bottle of whisky and took a greedy gulp. Reed, just as greedily, filled his lungs with air.

After the oxygen had returned to Reed's bloodstream, he stood up and dusted himself down, he walked over to the wall where Alan was standing, leaving a few metres between them, not wanting to crowd him. Both men sat in silence and Reed took in the view; off to the left was Thetford town centre which appeared as an enlarged maze, the tip of the church's peak was around eye level and the sudden sense of height made him feel slightly dizzy. In complete contrast, over to the right, the edge of Thetford Forest was laid out like a lush green canvass, not yet painted with buildings. Bridging the gap between the two areas was a mixture of housing estates and industrial buildings.

“Can I have a sip?” Reed asked, nodding towards the bottle of whiskey.

Alan held it out for Reed to take, which after taking a few steps closer, he did, before retreating to a safe distance again. He turned to Tyler and gave her a shrug. He hated whiskey, all spirits actually. Taking a pretend sip, he placed the bottle down by his own feet and hoped Alan would forget about it.

“This is all I have now. This job.” Alan said, gesturing at his immediate surroundings with his hands.

“I know it won't bring Tina back Mr. Westwood, but I believe we're close to catching her killer. There are undeniable connections between her case and the recent murder of Carmella Chapman. Maybe that will finally give you closure. You and your wife.”

“It's been ten years. Ten. I've had hope before detective, for a long time I had hope and when that begins to fade it leaves nothing but pain.”

Reed couldn't begin to understand how Alan was feeling so he said nothing. He hoped Alan would talk it through at his own pace and then they could all go home.

“Don't give me hope Detective. It's a killer itself. A slow killer. All this that has happened recently, it's stirred up hope again and it's not worth it, I know that now.” Alan pushed himself away from the wall and took a few steps towards Reed and picked up the whisky bottle. Reed felt ashamed that he had backed away as Alan approached, maintaining a safe distance.

“I can give you hope, what I won't do is promise you anything. There is hope, it's backed up with facts now, there's new evidence.”

Alan swilled the last of the whisky around the bottle before putting it to his mouth and finishing it off. He then leaned over the wall and let go of the bottle, watching its journey with curious interest. After a few seconds there was the satisfying sound of glass hitting concrete.

“So tell me Detective, what is this new evidence?”

“We have DNA evidence that we recovered from an earring. I was on my way to investigate it further when I got a phone call saying I was needed here.”

“You can't offer me anything.” Alan said, his voice was more sombre now.

Reed thought about telling him that they had found Tina's earring where Carmella was killed and that another person's DNA had been detected. But he couldn't. Nobody knew how it got there or why. It would be false hope.

Alan hitched himself up and sat his bum on the wall, taking a nervous look over his shoulder. Reed took the opportunity to shoot a questioning look in Tyler's direction. What should we do? Tyler shook her head to indicate she didn't know either.

Reed heard a siren in the distance and hoped that it wasn’t heading towards them. He didn’t want to spook Alan in to anything. Tyler removed her phone and walked away a little. So she was dealing with the siren, leaving Reed to deal with Alan. Fantastic.

“Alan, I know your wife is worried about you, how's about we take you home and talk this through?”

Alan turned his head back towards Reed in a slow, measured way, “So you can arrest me?”

“No. I have no need to arrest you, this will all be forgotten about as soon as we get down from here and we can get you home.” Reed said, noticing how Alan was now swaying even though he was sitting down. His words slurring into one another.

“You won't arrest me. You didn't arrest anyone for my daughter's murder. I doubt you'll arrest anyone for Carmella’s murder. That's the problem. Nothing happens. It never does. I fully trust you won't arrest me.”

Reed could feel droplets of sweat running down his back. Dust and grime had stuck to his skin after his little tussle with Alan. He needed a bath.

“I believe you... and that's the whole point.” Alan said quietly.

“You can believe me. I have no need to arrest you and I believe we are so close to catching this killer. There is real hope this time Alan. There is evidence linking the two murders.”

“I don't mean I believe you have new important evidence or that there really is hope. I believe you won't arrest me. You don't get it do you? There isn't going to be an arrest for anything.” Alan said.

“I don't understand Alan.”

“No arrests! It's happened all over again and still no arrest. Don't you think the police should have caught the killer the first time around? If you had, then Carmella would still be alive.” Alan gave the impression that he'd gained all self-control again. His body had stopped swaying. His words were clear as he spat them out.

Reed didn't say anything. He couldn't. Something was happening in his stomach which made him feel sick. How had he missed it? He held Alan's gaze, waiting for the words to come spilling out.

“The blunt instrument to the head; no sexual assault; the girls were about the same age; they happened in the same area; the bleach on the bodies.” Alan counted out each point on his fingers as he spoke. “The bleach!” He shouted. “Don’t you think the similarities were a little too fucking emphasised?”

Alan started to sob. His head dropping and bouncing around with his cries. Reed thought about lunging for him. Only problem was, any momentum could take them both over the wall. Alan was drunk, he might flinch or panic and fall over the side all by himself. The options were very limited. After a few seconds, Alan wiped his face and composed himself a little.

“A whole bottle of bleach. Talk about a calling card.” Alan shook his head, “Come and get me! Come and get me!” He made an infant’s voice and waved his hands, “I'm over here.” He dragged out the last word as though playing a game.

Reed was so focused that he had developed tunnel vision. He couldn't see Tyler anymore. He could only hear the noise from Alan's mouth. He didn't hear the birds singing in the summer sun. He didn't hear what happened to the police siren. Did it come close or had it disappeared into the distance? Or had Tyler got the message through to shut up. He didn't dare to take his eyes off of Alan, he couldn't risk trying to locate Tyler.

“Only I didn't want you to come and get me!”

Parts of this messed up jigsaw were starting to fall into place now. Whitehead had been right. Reed was useless. This scenario had never crossed his mind.

“I wanted you to get my Tina's killer. Carmella, she was messing around with boys in their cars, out till all hours. She disgusted me. My Tina wouldn't have done those things. She didn't deserve to die. I wanted the case reopened but you think it's the same the killer. It's not.”

Reed's heart was thumping. Alan was right, they had begun to think it was the same killer. That's what Alan had wanted them to think and now it had backfired on both of them.

“Alan, people will understand why you've done this. We can still find Tina's killer. Please, let's just get down from here.”

“I'm so sorry for her parents. At least they'll know who done it and why. Susan will understand too.”

“Alan, please.” Tyler shouted from somewhere.

“I'm sorry. So sorry. I just wanted my Tina's killer caught. Nothing was happening.” Alan whispered. Then he locked eyes with Reed. He stopped crying for a second.

“I need to see my Tina.”

With a push of strength, Alan flipped himself backwards like a scuba diver from a boat.

Reed stood static as Tyler came running past him. He closed his eyes to try and block the whole thing out. Then he heard the inevitable dull thump.

Chapter 19

“We believe you were with Tina the day she died. We have a statement from somebody who is willing to testify in court that you were involved in her death and we have DNA evidence which backs that up. I'm going to give you one chance and one chance only to explain what happened that day. If I think you're lying in any way, I will arrest you right now for the murder of Tina Westwood.” Reed said.

He was sat next to Tyler in interview Room 7. Opposite them was the man Reed believed was responsible for Tina Westwood's death all those years ago. To some extent, the same person was also responsible for Carmella Chapman's murder and Alan Westwood's suicide. There had been a knock-on effect from Tina's death, much like the ripples that are formed when a stone is thrown into a lake. Small waves form and move away from the point of impact, growing out of control until the circular wave finally hits the banks of the lake and crashes to a stop. The waves from Tina's death had traveled for many years before they crashed, but when they did, it had affected more people than was necessary. It had all happened because of one man's lies.

That man was now weeping uncontrollably as they waited for him to compose himself and tell the truth. Reed felt very little sympathy for someone who, although may have been younger and scared at the time, had composed himself enough to cover his tracks and live a lie for ten years, causing suffering to various people for much longer than any jail term.

“I didn't kill her. It was an accident.”

“So you were with her when it happened?” Reed asked.

“Yes. But I didn't touch her.”

“Tell us what happened. The truth.”

“She was my girlfriend. We met at Ovington Fen that day because her dad wouldn't have approved of her having a boyfriend. We just hung out really. Then Tina climbed this tree.”

Reed wasn't sure if the pause was for effect or just to buy some time to think, but he waited it out anyway. Lee Gulliver had lied over and over for so long he had probably turned it into a fine art. There had been only one chink in his armour and Reed had spotted it by chance. At the time it hadn't made any sense but with a statement from David Jones, it had all fallen into place.

“She fell. I swear to God she fell. I never touched her.”

“So why did you lie about it?”

“I was scared. I thought she was mucking about at first. Then I went over to her. My heart sunk. There was this pool of blood, so I lifted her head to have a look but when I went to put her head back down I moved this big sharp stone so as not to hurt her more. Then I noticed she wasn't breathing. I was really panicking, we weren't even meant to be together.”

“Then what happened?” Tyler prompted gently.

“I... I was going to call an ambulance but then I saw my hands. They were covered in blood.” Gulliver said between sniffles and sobs, “Plus I had probably picked up the stone that had just killed her. There were no witnesses. I was scared I'd take the blame. So I cried. I sat there and I cried.”

“How did David Jones become involved?” Reed asked.

“He became involved when he tried to kiss me, the big faggot. We used to be good mates, then I started seeing his sister and he became, I don't know... jealous I suppose. I was spending more time with her and then one day he just kissed me. I didn't want any of that.”

“So you involved David Jones because he's gay?” Reed asked.

“Kind of. I felt he owed me something for putting me in that position, so I gave him Tina's earrings. He had a secret and I had a secret.”

Reed thought it must have been hard for David Jones being a gay mechanic. Reed had never seen a calendar of topless men hanging next to the standard issue female versions that all garages had. Most gay people wanted to declare their sexuality in their own time, if at all. They didn't want to be forced in to it by some low-life like Gulliver.

David Jones had explained that he hoped some of Gulliver's DNA was still on the earring that had been handed to him all those years ago. He had handled the earring over and over, wondering if Gulliver’s secret was worth keeping anymore. If his own secret was worth keeping anymore. Then when Carmella was killed he had decided enough was enough. If Gulliver was a killer then he deserved to be caught and if people found out he was gay then it was a small price to pay.

“So you threatened him?” Tyler asked with a look of disapproval etched on her face.

Gulliver wiped his eyes clear of the last few tears before saying “A little. I was scared. I went to his house straight after I left Ovington. I chucked the earring on his bed where he was sitting and he picked it up. I told him the whole story and said I needed an alibi. He wasn't sure, so I told him his DNA would be on the earring and I would do anything not to go to jail. Anything.” Relief was flooding over Gulliver's face for finally telling all. It was a shame he hadn't done so a few years earlier.

“What about Carmella? What really happened that night?” Reed asked. They knew Alan Westwood had killed her to draw attention to his own daughter’s death but they didn't know how he had got her to Thetford Common.

“I couldn't believe it was happening again. I was involved in another girl’s death that wasn't my fault. After we left the club we stopped at the Common. We... well, you know, started kissing and stuff but Carmella wanted to stop. We had an argument and I drove off. I left her there.”

“You left a young girl in the middle of nowhere, late at night and you don't think any blame lies with you?” Tyler spat out.

“It’s right on the edge of town, I thought she could walk. I was angry. If she didn't like me why would she want to share a car with me?”

“Sharing a car and sharing her body are two different things you little...”

Reed put his hand on Tyler's arm to stop her saying something she would regret.

“Was there another car on the Common car park when you got there?” Reed asked, trying to work out when Alan had come to be there.

“Yeah. We parked away from it for some privacy, you know. I don't know who or what it was.”

Reed could only guess that it was Alan. Having left his hotel early perhaps he had stopped for a break. Maybe he couldn't face going to the home where his daughter no longer was. After witnessing Lee and Carmella kissing he must have made himself angry about how his daughter wouldn't have been doing such a thing and attacked Carmella. Believing she didn't deserve to live when his daughter was dead. In fact, Tina had been seeing Gulliver at the time of her death behind her parents back.

Did Alan panic? Reed believed he did. That's why he moved her body. If he wanted to make a statement about his daughter’s death, why not leave her where she was, where she would definitely be found? Reed thought the bleach idea was an afterthought, Alan turning a situation created from rage to one that would at least serve the purpose of reigniting interest in his own daughter’s murder. Gulliver had met Tina after work on the day she had died and the traces of bleach that had been detected on Tina’s chest and hands was testament to what they had been up to.

Gulliver's lies had caused two further deaths and endless amounts of grief for a lot of people. Grief that had stretched into Reed's own life. This investigation had played its part by absorbing all his time. That was one of the reasons that Kate was on the verge of leaving him. No time for his family. In the future there would be more murders demanding his time. He could change his career but he would only resent the decision further down the line, feeling as though he has been forced into it, resulting in arguments and possibly a split anyway.

When Reed hadn't been there for Kate, a mystery man had been pulling her away from him. A man he knew nothing about and probably couldn't compete with anyway.

Evie had lashed out by throwing a rock through their window. All that had achieved was to re-affirm Kate's beliefs that Reed's job was a dangerous intrusion on their lives. He didn't have the heart to tell Kate the truth and he felt it was better for Evie to think she had got away with it. She had no idea the effect her actions would have; she was lashing out at the atmosphere they had somehow created. That one rock had smashed through their lounge window and smashed the last chance of rescuing their relationship. Kate had gone to stay with her sister that night and hadn't returned. What would have happened if they had enjoyed their meal and spent the night talking things through? Maybe slept in the same bed?

What would have happened if Gulliver had told the truth at the time of Tina's death? Would Alan Westwood and Carmella Chapman still be alive?

For two chapters of his life that were supposedly over; his relationship with Kate and the whole Tina Westwood, Carmella Chapman and Alan Westwood scenario, there were still a lot of unanswered questions. Questions that would always stay that way.

Table of Contents

Two Wrongs

By Nathan Sayer

Text Copyright © 2014 Nathan Sayer

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19