Текст книги "Scarred for Life"

Автор книги: Kerry Wilkinson

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Yap, yap, yap.

Somewhere over the next ridge, Buster was barking. He’d either caught whatever he was chasing, or, far more likely, had got scared by something small and quick and was now hoping to be picked up and taken home for a bath. The little softie.

Philip slurped his way across the thick mud, up a short ridge and through a gap between hedges. He could see Buster sitting on the ground at the bottom, lower half caked with mud, tail tucked between his legs.

‘What’s wrong, boy?’ Philip called, steadily making his way down the slope. Thick tree roots weaved their way in and out of the earth, with mulched remains of autumn leaves mashed into the ground from where other walkers had been out and about.

Buster tucked his legs under himself and lay on the floor, nose-down, peering at a spot under the ridge Philip was trying to descend. As the animal let out a gentle moan, Philip quickened his pace, worrying what was wrong. He already felt as if his legs were travelling too quickly for him when his foot snagged on one of the roots, sending him sprawling forward, arms flailing uselessly. With a thump, Philip hit the ground chest-first, the wind coughing out of his lungs. As he struggled to breathe, his legs cricked over his head, sending him into a roll. Something slammed into the back of his neck, with an unseen branch snagging his trousers, ripping them above the knee and slicing into his skin. Philip tried to grab something, anything, to stop himself but it only made things worse, vines and roots tearing at his skin. He yelped in pain, bump, bump, bumping his way to the bottom until eventually coming to rest next to Buster.

Ouch.

The dog crept forward and began licking Philip’s face apologetically. Batting him away but at least appreciating the gesture, Philip rolled onto his back and groaned. His eyes felt better closed but he was going to have to pick himself up at some point. Slowly, he opened an eyelid, and then hauled himself into a sitting position. His hands were covered in a mixture of mud and blood, waterlogged trousers sticking to his legs as more blood sluiced from the cut. He reached out and patted Buster gently with his fingers, making sure not to use his aching palms.

‘Silly dog, what did you see?’

Philip followed his pet’s gaze. A mound of leaves, tree bark and twigs had been shoved backwards into the gully but that wasn’t what his eyes were drawn to. Poking through the undergrowth was a pale, lifeless human arm.

9

So much for a day off.

Jessica sloshed her way through the woods until she came to the area that had been covered with white tents. Body suit, over-shoe covers and hair net in place, she allowed the SOCO officer to lead her through the site. In contrast to the scene at the rowing club, Jessica knew the queasy looks on the faces of the other attending officers meant this was something she should see for herself. Not that she wanted to.

Small piles of leaves, twigs and dirt had been moved to the side, exposing the washed-out limp body of a young strawberry blonde. Without wanting to step any closer than the doorway of the tent, Jessica felt the twinge in her stomach. ‘She was probably strangled,’ the officer said softly.

Jessica remained silent, listening to the rest of the details. It was so easy to become desensitised to the things witnessed every day, but every now and then something would hit you. As well as the marks around her neck, the index finger on the woman’s right hand had been sliced off, along with part of her ear. Both cuts were likely made after death because of the lack of blood but Jessica found it hard to tell where the slits began and ended because she had been so brutally beaten too. The woman’s torso, especially her breasts, was peppered with bruises, the remaining fingers jutting off at unnatural angles. Across the small of her back, there was a spiky tattoo weaving its way towards her hips. From the state of the injuries, the officer said it was likely the body had been there for longer than a day, less than two.

With the photographs taken and initial assumptions reached, it was time for the body to be taken for autopsy. Jessica and the other officers watched in a calm reverence as it was carried away through the woods, and then it was to business. Officers had been called in from days off, with others lent from surrounding districts. With the woods a popular spot for walkers, at least a third of those were needed to keep the place as untouched as possible. Jessica separated the rest into teams ready to pick through the area centimetre by devastatingly slow centimetre.

That was all well and good but they all knew the real damage had already been done. Even with the area surrounded by tent and tape, Jessica had seen the footsteps and paw prints all around the body. With everyone off doing something, she walked back to the parked cars and approached a man resting on the bonnet of a muddy Range Rover. At his feet lay a dog, covered with grime, head nestled between the man’s feet.

‘Are you Philip?’ she asked.

The man was middle-aged, bundled up in any number of coats and tops, which made him look chunkier than he actually was. His jeans had ripped and blood was beginning to dry into the material. His lived-in fatherly face was partially obscured by a mud-spattered, skewed deerstalker. He looked at Jessica, nodding, but his eyes were empty.

She pointed towards the wound in his leg: ‘Someone should look at that.’

He held up his hand to show where the ring finger on his left hand was missing the very tip. ‘I’ve had worse.’

‘How did you manage that?’

‘Accident with a forklift a few years back. To be honest, filling in all the accident forms hurt way worse than losing the finger.’ He chuckled humourlessly but Jessica knew what he meant: if someone stubbed their toe around the station then she’d have three dozen forms to fill out in triplicate. No wonder things didn’t get done.

‘I messed up, didn’t I?’ he said, more quietly than before.

‘How?’

‘With the body. You’re supposed to stay clear and not touch anything, aren’t you? That’s what they say. I went and fell on my bloody arse, then the dog was sniffing around.’ He hunched and ruffled the dog’s ears.

‘What’s his name?’

‘Buster. Stupid bloody name. Some kids’ TV show, I think. My daughter named him.’

The dog rolled onto his side, still nuzzling against Philip’s shoes.

‘It’s not your fault,’ Jessica said, touching him on the upper arm. ‘Our scene was screwed the moment it started raining. The body had been out there for more than twenty-four hours anyway. By the time you found it, pretty much anything useful we were going to get had been washed away.’

That wasn’t strictly true and Philip’s tumble around the body certainly hadn’t helped – but there was no point in making him feel any worse than he already did.

‘Your girl who interviewed me said I could go home but I don’t think I can face it yet. I called my wife to say I was going to be late. I didn’t tell her about the body, not over the phone, I just said I’d gone for a longer walk. She asked if I could pick up some milk on the way home. I don’t know why but it made me laugh, not because it was funny – it was just one of those things. I was thinking, “Milk, bloody hell, there’s some poor girl that’s been cut up and I’ve got to worry about nipping by the corner shop on my way home.”’

Jessica wanted to say something soothing but what was there? It was always the normal things that got you.

‘Who was she?’ Philip asked.

‘We’re not sure yet.’

‘Bloody waste, though, isn’t it? Some young girl like that. Can’t be any older than twenty-one, twenty-two. Christ, my Emily’s only thirteen. You think they’ve got their whole lives ahead of them and then you see something like that.’

Jessica didn’t reply for a few moments, allowing the gentle breeze to skim between them. ‘We can have someone take you home if you want, plus we have people you can talk to.’

‘Aye, I know, love. Your other woman told me. I’ll be all right. I’ve seen a few things in my time, not like that but, y’know . . .’

Back at Longsight Station the usual Saturday morning chaos was fully in evidence. The regular array of Friday-night drunks were being processed, the quieter ones sent on their way after a telling-off, the ones with the big gobs left downstairs in their cells to stew for a few hours longer. Some people never learned that shouting their mouths off at the police got them nowhere.

A pair of constables was pulling together a list of missing people who could potentially be their victim, so Jessica went to her office and flicked through the messages on top of her keyboard. Something about pensions, a note from Fat Pat about forgetting to sign cars back in, notification of some all-department briefing, blah blah blah. If they filed these things straight into her bin, it would save her the hassle.

Jessica picked up her desk phone and called Archie. One ring, two rings, five rings: ‘Can’t you pick up on the first ring?’ she said.

The familiar Manc twang: ‘Jess?’

‘Yes, y’lazy sod. What are you doing?’

‘Give over – it’s my day off, it’s Saturday.’

‘I know what day it is and it’s my day off too. They found some body out Walkden way, just off the East Lancs Road. Some poor girl.’

‘I’ve not had the news on. Do you need me in?’

‘No, I was wondering how you’d got on sniffing around the rowing club.’

‘Well, it smells like shite, that’s for sure. I went through those membership lists and started to get together a few potential names. They have a website that tallies all of their results going back years, so I’ve been cross-reffing. I don’t want to start phoning everyone because then the word will get around, so I’m trying to find a certain type of member. The ones who row in the main teams are going to be quieter than a City fan after derby day, so I’m trying to find people who were members of the club but not mentioned. There’s bound to be someone who’s annoyed at being left out.’

‘Find anyone yet?’

‘I only started yesterday afternoon?’

‘So what are you doing taking days off then?’

‘All right, bloody hell, they told me you were a nightmare.’

‘Who told you?’

Archie’s muffled cough revealed nothing. ‘You know . . . they.’

Jessica let it go. ‘When are you back in?’

‘Tuesday.’

‘Are you working part-time?’

‘Ha ha, very funny. United are playing this afternoon, so I—’

‘Whatever, just get something sorted and we’ll talk on Monday.’

Jessica hung up just as Archie’s muttered protests were getting abusive. She knew it was harsh but that was the way things were. The fact that she was turning into one of the inspectors she used to complain about wasn’t lost on her either. What a cow.

With that sorted, her notes filed in the bin and a cheeky Hobnob from her desk drawer devoured, Jessica went through to the stupidly named sergeants’ station, where Izzy was having an agitated phone conversation with her other half. She swiped a pile of cardboard document folders away from the space in front of her and offered an apologetic smile as Jessica sat and waited on the corner of the desk. As Izzy lowered her voice to use a very rude word, Jessica picked up the tattoo robbery case file and started shuffling through the information. The original version of the photograph she’d shown to Bex was at the front and she stared at the tattoo, knowing that if it had been etched onto her body, then she would have done whatever she could to get rid of such an obvious glitch.

Izzy soon hung up and turned to Jessica. ‘Sorry – you’d think I somehow managed to have Amber by myself, like some sort of immaculate conception.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, aren’t you off?’

‘I’m always hanging around.’

‘Like a bad smell?’

‘Something like that. I wanted to go through these photos. How closely did our guys look at this?’ Jessica pointed to the fuzzy part of the tattoo on the robber’s wrist.

Izzy took the photo and looked at it again. ‘I flagged it up straight away but they had already seen it. They said it had to be a problem with the camera footage because the tattoo doesn’t look like that on the other pictures.’

Izzy slid out the images they had from the other robberies and showed Jessica what she meant. In those, the scythe shape on the robber’s lower arm connected perfectly with the dark line as it reached his wrist. Jessica took each photo and peered at them closely. She had only had the single photograph the evening before, which she’d taken on a whim. Neither Jessica nor Adam had tattoos but one of Adam’s friends at the university where he worked had a keen interest in them. She’d hoped he might have something useful to add but had forgotten to take it out of her bag, only remembering when she met Bex.

She thought back to that morning: the tattoo on the dead woman’s back and the sodden conditions. Jessica held up the most recent photo again. ‘What day was this taken?’

‘Monday.’

‘What was the weather like?’

Izzy shrugged. ‘Probably raining. It usually is.’

Jessica tried to remember. Monday had been her last day off and she’d celebrated by going to Tesco and then sitting at home watching daytime television. It definitely had rained because she’d got wet lugging the shopping bags back to the car. She also remembered watching the news the previous night with Adam where the weatherman had promised it was going to be a dry day. The fact that most of their advance forecasting seemed to involve looking up and guessing was beside the point.

‘Why?’ Izzy added.

Jessica chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. ‘Is there somewhere we can find out what the weather’s been like for each day there was a robbery?’

Izzy peered at Jessica for a few moments but didn’t ask the obvious question; sometimes it was best to let potentially mad ideas run their course.

Between them, they found a website that contained an archive of weather for the region. After cross-checking the details with the dates of the first three off-licence thefts, Jessica picked up the final photo again, staring at the same smudge as before.

‘What are you thinking?’ Izzy asked.

‘The first three robberies were committed when it was dry. On Monday, it was due to be clear but it rained. When we saw the very first photo of the robber, we thought this would be one of the simplest cases ever, didn’t we?’

Izzy nodded. ‘Yes, because the robber was clearly stupid – if you had markings so distinctive, you’d do everything you could to cover them up.’

‘When we put these pictures out, we thought we’d get a call from at least one member of the public. The few we did have were from the usual nutters and well-meaning people who’d got things wrong. We wondered how no one could have noticed such an intricate mark on someone’s wrist – but what if it’s not a proper tattoo? What if someone drew that onto themselves and then deliberately left their sleeves up to throw us off?’

Izzy thought for a moment and then a half-smile crept across her face. ‘It would have to be non-permanent, otherwise it’d be noticed the same as a normal tattoo. So when it rained unexpectedly, it smudged slightly?’

‘Exactly.’

10

Although Jessica now had a theory about Izzy’s tattoo robbery case, they didn’t have the officers to start working on it. Identifying the body in the woods had been simpler than it could have been and, instead of spending a day or two waiting for a positive ID, officers were now busy delving into the victim’s background.

While Jessica was at the rowing club on Thursday night, trying to figure out what had happened to Damon Potter, Cassie Edmonds had gone out. When she hadn’t returned home, her boyfriend, Carl, assumed she’d stayed at a friend’s house and then gone straight to work the next day. On Friday evening, he’d gone out with his mates, got back to their shared flat late and guessed she’d gone out too. By the time he’d woken up hung-over on Saturday morning, the realisation that she hadn’t replied to any of the text messages he had sent and wasn’t answering her phone had hit. He called her friends, only to be told that none of them had seen her since Thursday evening. That was when he’d called the police and, after being asked about any distinctive features she might have, he’d described the tattoo on her back.

That was his story and, at least for now, they had no reason to doubt it. Well, no proof anyway – doubt was always the first thought.

With someone dispatched to formally take the boyfriend’s statement, and a couple more officers trying to confirm his alibi, Jessica’s day off that wasn’t stretched into the afternoon.

By the time she arrived at the dead woman’s flat, Cassie’s best friend Jade was helping the police while trying to avoid going to pieces. She invited Jessica in, streaks of mascara lining the area around her eyes and red raw rings in the bags underneath from where she’d been rubbing her skin. She held the door open, sniffing and trying to suppress more sobs, then led Jessica into her living room. Celebrity magazines were scattered on a table and some dance tune thump-thump-thumped from a set of speakers in the corner.

‘This was our song,’ Jade said, failing to stop her voice cracking. ‘We used to play it when we were getting ready to go out.’

The poor neighbours.

Tea and tissues at the ready, Jade settled on her sofa opposite Jessica. ‘She was my best mate,’ Jade said, just about holding herself together as she twiddled the large hooped earring in her right ear.

‘And you were out with her on Thursday?’

‘We were at this place just off Tib Street for one of our other friend’s birthdays. It was supposed to be a quiet night – Italian and a few drinks – but we’d ended up staying out a bit later, even though we both had work the next day.’

Jessica took the details of the other friends who were there, as well as the places they had visited. ‘How was the evening?’ she asked.

‘It was good, a bit like the old days. We’ve all known each other since school and have been going out since then. We used to get dressed up and head to town to try to get into places. Some would serve you, some wouldn’t . . . although . . . I probably shouldn’t tell you that, should I?’

Jessica smiled, remembering her own youth. ‘I was young once too.’

Jade coughed a sombre smile through the still-near tears. ‘Right, so you know what it’s like?’

‘Too much make-up, shoes you can’t walk in, push-up bra, try not to make too much eye contact, in you go.’

‘Exactly – you have the best time of your life . . . well, you tell yourself that at the time. Back then, you scrape together a few quid and go out when you can, then get one of your dads to come and pick you up if you don’t have enough left for a taxi. Things begin to catch up with you, though, because you get jobs and boyfriends – two of our old mates, Jane and Vee, have little girls – slowly you drift away.’

‘But you’d stayed friends with Cassie?’

Jade let go of her earring and blew her nose loudly. ‘She was my best mate.’

Jessica thought of her friend Caroline and the relationship they had now. Since first meeting as teenagers all those years ago, they’d travelled together, lived together, drifted apart, back together and then, to a degree, apart again. Life did that. On some level, they’d always be a part of each other’s lives. In different circumstances, this could have been her giving the interview.

‘How often did you see each other?’

‘Once or twice a week? She worked at this office near the Printworks and I’m at a tanning salon in the centre. We’d go for lunch now and then. Even if we didn’t have time, we’d text all the time.’

‘How frequently would you all go out?’

Another sad smile slipped onto Jade’s face. ‘Not often enough. Once a month? Maybe not even that. If one of us had a birthday, we’d try to make an effort. Yasmine was turning twenty-three and we’d managed to get everyone together for the first time in ages. Even Jane and Vee were there.’

‘Talk me through the evening.’

‘We’d arranged to meet at the Italian place for eight but Cassie, me and Yasmine had gone to this pub around the corner first.’

‘What time did you get there?’

‘Seven. It was pretty busy – a load of lads in suits out after work. It’s always like that.’

‘Did anyone show any particular interest in you?’

Jade curled her feet up on the chair and shook her head. ‘I don’t think so; we had a booth in the corner and shared a bottle of wine. We were talking about work and TV – the usual things – having a laugh.’

‘Was she happy at work?’

A shrug: ‘You’re never that pleased at work, are you? It’s just what you do to get a few quid. I don’t think she was unhappy.’

‘What time did you leave?’

‘Just after eight. We were laughing because I’m always late for things and this time it wasn’t even my fault. We were just chatting and lost track of the time.’

‘What was the restaurant like?’

‘Normal – everyone was waiting for us. We had more wine in the bar bit while we were ordering, then we ate.’

‘Was there anything unusual?’

‘Only that the food came out really quickly. We chatted and laughed. Zoe fell off her stool because she was so pissed. It was one of those evenings. The waiters are friendly but that’s just because they’re after a tip, isn’t it.’

Jessica was making notes on the places that had been visited. She knew the area and it was only a few hundred metres from the pub to the restaurant. There would be CCTV cameras nearby, hopefully inside the places too. When she’d finished with Jade, she’d get someone onto tracking it all down. Officers would interview the people behind the bar in the pub and the waiters at the restaurant. No one would remember anything; they never did.

‘What time did you finish eating?’

‘I don’t know but because the food had come out so quickly, some of us were up for going on somewhere else. We all paid and said our goodbyes, then Cass, Zoe, me and Vee went on to this cocktail bar across the road. They have a little dance floor.’

‘Was it busy?’

‘Sort of – not packed but not empty. It’s nice going out in the week because there’s a good atmosphere but you can still move around. They were playing some good tunes and the barman was giving Zoe the eye.’

‘What about Cassie?’

Jade stopped to dry her eyes again but only succeeded in making a bigger mess of the mascara that had already smeared across her face. ‘I should’ve let her go.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She wanted to go home to Carl after the restaurant but I persuaded her to stay out for one more. Then it was two more. If I’d let her go in the first place then . . .’

What an awful thing to live with.

‘You can’t blame yourself.’

Jade closed her eyes but there were tears again. She waved a hand dramatically in front of her face, whispering: ‘It wasn’t just that.’

Jessica reached across the pile of celebrity magazines and grabbed the box of tissues, joining Jade on the sofa. ‘Someone did this. I want to find out who.’

Jade pulled out three tissues and dabbed at her face again; the result made her look like a painting of a panda that someone had spilled a mug of coffee over.

‘What happened next?’ Jessica asked.

Jade slowly composed herself. ‘There’s a taxi rank on the main road, so we decided we’d all go together and then split it. I took my shoes off because they were bloody hurting and I was feeling a bit pissed. Zoe was just giggling.’

‘What was Cassie like?’

‘I think she wanted to go home.’

‘What happened?’

Jade gulped deeply. ‘I’m seeing this lad, Ben. He’s a dick. I know he’s a dick, Cassie knew he was a dick, the other girls know he’s a dick. I know he’s only using me for . . . well, y’know . . . but sometimes you don’t care, do you? I know I should but I’m getting stuff out of the relationship too – if you can call it that. It’s not as if I’m going to be settling down with him.’

‘Cassie didn’t approve?’

A shake of the head sent rogue tears splattering onto Jessica’s arm. ‘She’s my mate, so of course not. She was always saying he wasn’t good enough for me and that I should dump him for someone better. It’s not as if I disagreed but I guess I was so drunk that it touched a nerve.’

‘So you had an argument?’

The reply was so quiet that Jessica almost missed it, even though she was next to the other woman. ‘Yes.’

‘What happened?’

‘We were right next to the taxi rank. Vee said something about wanting to get home because her lovely boyfriend would be there. She reckoned he always waited up and that she was going to jump him. Zoe was saying she might go back to see if she could cop off with the barman and Cassie was smiling. She really loved Carl – they were beginning to think about getting married and the like. Usually, that would make me happy, but just for a moment I felt so angry. It was like I was someone else, I was so furious. I was thinking, “You bitch”. How dare she be so happy when I was stuck with that prick Ben. It must have been the booze, I’m not usually like that, honest.’

Jessica waited for Jade to blow her nose again.

When she continued, she couldn’t face Jessica. ‘I had my shoe in my hand and felt this rage, like I wanted to kill her. I don’t even remember it properly – Vee and Zoe were holding me back and I was shouting and going crazy. It was like I was watching myself.’

‘Did you hit her?’

‘I don’t think so, I just threatened to.’

‘What did she do?’

‘Nothing. She looked at me and said she was sorry for whatever it was she’d done. I knew she hadn’t done anything but I was still furious. I was screaming, “Go on, fuck off” – and she did.’

‘She started walking?’

‘Our taxi turned up a minute or two later and she was already out of sight. When I woke up the next morning I didn’t even remember at first, then I was having flashbacks. I texted her about ten times. When I didn’t get a reply, I assumed she was still annoyed – which was fair enough. I was going to go round later today to say sorry in person but then Carl called me this morning, asking if I’d seen her. I phoned the other girls and none of them had – then I realised that no one had seen her since the argument . . .’

At that, Jade finally lost it, doubling over and sobbing into her hands. Jessica rested a hand gently on her back but there wasn’t a lot she could say. It wasn’t likely you’d forget the day you argued with your best mate and never saw her again.

11

After spending Sunday at home, taking and making calls, replying to emails and generally working in a not-working kind of way, Jessica found herself standing in front of the chattering, biscuit-eating, tea-drinking masses in the incident room of Longsight Police Station the following morning, trying to stifle a yawn. Even DCI Cole had come down from his high horse, or upstairs office as it was better known, to see the proceedings.

‘All right, all right,’ Jessica said loudly. ‘It’s too early, I’ve got a headache and if you can’t all shut up then I’m going to confiscate the biscuits.’

An outraged hush descended as Jessica turned to the pair of whiteboards behind her. On one, there was a large photo of Damon Potter, with Cassie Edmonds on the other.

‘Damon died on Wednesday, Cassie on Thursday evening – one murdered, the other we’re not sure,’ Jessica said. ‘There’s no obvious connection from one to the other but the fact we’ve got them both to investigate means numbers are tight, so it’s all hands on deck, to the pump, or however the saying goes.’

Jessica paused to have a sip of her tea: ‘At around half eleven on Thursday night, Cassie had an argument with her friend as they were waiting for a taxi. We have CCTV of her walking along Great Ancoats Street and then turning onto Oldham Road but that was the last anyone saw of her until a dog-walker discovered her body in the woods close to Ellesmere Golf Course on Saturday morning. Forensics say she was likely dumped in the early hours of Friday morning, meaning she was killed relatively quickly after disappearing. Her boyfriend has an airtight alibi and we don’t have any obvious suspects.’

A hand: ‘Was she assaulted?’

‘Not sexually, which means we don’t have a motive either. But she was beaten very badly.’

Izzy was operating the laptop connected to the projector and Jessica asked her to flash through the photographs of the body. Any murmurings around the room quickly stopped as the horror dawned.

‘Our crime scene was a bit of a mess,’ Jessica continued. ‘For one, the weather was at its usual welcoming best and then our dog-walker had a bit of an accident. Forensics did what they could but they’re mainly relying on what they can get from the body, not what was at the scene. Because Cassie was dumped on the night she disappeared, they’re not sure if she was killed in the woods, or elsewhere. Either way, the killer couldn’t have gone far with her. We’ve been looking at tyre tracks around the car parks close to the golf course but we’ve not helped by parking there ourselves. Because it’s in a fiddly spot close to the motorway and there are a few smaller roads underneath, we’ve had no luck tracking number plates either.’

Another sip of tea: ‘Our search teams spent an unproductive weekend trawling through the woods, ending up doing little more than litter-picking. We’ve got a mass of discarded crisp packets and old carrier bags but not much else. Cassie was strangled and we’re still trying to see if we can get anything from the indentations in her neck, although I was told not to hold my breath – an unfortunate choice of words.’

Jessica continued to tell the officers about the few things they did have, namely a vague description of what the killer was like based upon the injuries inflicted – male, taller than the victim, wide fingers, right-handed, the usual kind of thing. Then she moved on to the profile that had been commissioned, which was more of the same. The cuts on the body apparently showed that the male had a deepseated hatred of women, possibly his own mother or partner. The beating indicated the killer had an anger problem, as if murdering someone in the first place wasn’t enough of a clue. Blah, blah, blah.

Drawing on a mixture of the profile and the forensic work, an unfortunate group of officers had spent their Sunday cross-checking the details against everyone with a history of violence in the north-west of England. An initial ‘short’ list of five hundred potential names had been narrowed to a mere seventy who required further investigation. It was the standard type of thing they’d do for any major case that didn’t have a natural suspect, but it didn’t feel right to Jessica. The people listed had beaten up their wives or had a fight in the street. It was a big step up from that to strangling and beating someone to death and then cutting parts from their body.