When a Killer Strikes, page 2
Dylan sighed, ‘Let’s see where she is then…’ he said, striding onto the footplates that had been positioned on the highly polished floor. The house was eerily silent and the peeling of his plastic shoes could be heard. It felt like Colonial House was holding its breath to reveal the dead body to him – the man in charge of finding out who had killed Patti Heinz.
The marble coloured body of a young girl was naked except for a white bra which was wrapped tightly around her neck. She was flat to the floor, her distorted face resting to one side, her mouth open wide as if gasping for air. The teenager’s legs were wide apart, her left knee bent slightly. The tip of her thick, plaited, auburn hair rested at her elbow.
‘Is this where the attack took place?’ Dylan wondered.
‘Every scene tells a story,’ said Emily pointing to the indentations in the carpet. ‘Fascinating…’
‘Scuff marks where she struggled, Sherlock Scotcher,’ mumbled Tony under his breath. ‘It’s not a dump-site.’
‘Pretty obvious she hasn’t been killed somewhere else.’ Vicky rolled her eyes.
Tony huffed.
Dylan stood quietly taking in the scene unfolding before him.
‘No furniture upturned, no open drawers, no discarded purse or wallet to suggest a burglary,’ said Vicky. ‘This scene tells us naff-all,’ said Vicky.
Before he instructed for the body to be turned, Dylan knelt down to see at close quarters the victim’s face in situ. She had a wound to the top of her forehead and her nose was bloody.
‘I don’t know why folks are afraid of a dead body. They can’t hurt you,’ Tony mumbled.
Dylan’s face was a few inches from the young girl’s. No amount of training prepared him for the image of a body; like any other body he had seen, it would remain with him forever.
‘Not unless they’re diseased,’ said Emily with a grimace.
‘Or fall on you from a great bloody height,’ said Vicky.
‘Obviously!’ said Emily stifling a laugh.
‘Poor kid.’ Dylan inhaled deeply as he stood.
There was a smear of blood on the top of Patti’s thigh.
‘School gym kit, do you think?’ He nodded towards a pair of Nike trainers that were positioned neatly next to the door jamb under dark blue shorts, and inside them could be seen a pair of white knickers as if she had taken them off as one. A green T-shirt lay haphazardly close by on the landing.
‘Looks like that. We’ll check,’ Vicky said, indicating to Emily to note.
‘Tony, make sure we get tapings from the carpet and a sample,’ said David. ‘We might be lucky enough to find fibres stuck on the offender’s shoes.’
‘And I know we will be seizing her trainers, but let’s have an impression of the sole. You never know, she may have kicked her attacker,’ said Dylan.
Dylan moved slowly around the deceased, careful to disturb nothing. He was quiet; he looked thoughtful. As previously warned he noted the patch of vomit, to the side of the body. ‘Confirming what stepdad told you?’ said Dylan to Vicky. Vicky nodded. ‘An understandable reaction.’ He turned to David. ‘We’ve got the scene captured on video?’
‘Yes sir, and numerous digital photographs have been taken, and will continue to be taken when the discarded clothing is collected and the body is moved.’
‘Ready to bag and tag as soon as your ready sir,’ said Emily.
‘I want the bra left on the body until the post-mortem.’
‘Of course.’ Emily stood, pensively waiting further instructions.
‘Bag both her hands, just in case she made contact with her killer,’ said Dylan. ‘Our priority has got to be securing the evidence. The last thing we want is to lose something in transit.’
Dylan’s instructions continued. Vicky noted them all.
‘Check the walls and the banister for fingerprints or any other marks,’ he said to David.
When Dylan was at a murder scene it was as if time stood still. No matter the external demands or desires, there was no rushing him at this stage of the enquiry. The available evidence had to be secured and that task was much easier when the body was found indoors – unlike a recent body he’d dealt with where the incoming tide was lapping at the dead man’s feet. Within minutes that scene was gone, and he knew valuable evidence had been lost to the elements. And bodies found outdoors needed protection from zoom lenses of observers’ cameras as much as inclement weather conditions.
Ten minutes later and the scene surrounding Patti had been digested to Dylan’s satisfaction. It was time to turn her over. With those in attendance assisting, very slowly and carefully the dead girl was turned on her back. Near where her head had rested, a patch of blood could now be seen. Closer examination revealed a partial yet distinctive footmark in it, and a sideways glance at David brought a nod of understanding as to what the SIO expected of the CSI. Dylan’s eyes went upwards to see three sets of eyes staring back at him over their masks; the same thought was clearly on the tips of their tongues. Was the impression left by the sole of footwear, that of the killer?
Experience of murder scenes during his CID years told Dylan that scene examination was about recovering evidence and recording facts. He also knew that compliance with data protection was essential. This meant that investigators had to record, retain and reveal all potential evidence to any subsequent defence team whether the police thought it was relevant or not. The defence team would make their own decisions, having being made aware that the item existed. Evidence seized at the crime scene eliminated people just as efficiently as it connected people.
It was time to visually check Patti’s body from head to toe. ‘Any sign of bruising or discolouration of the skin?’ said David.
‘Upper torso appears to have bruising,’ Emily pointed out with her gloved hand.
Dylan nodded. ‘That’ll be looked at in more detail at the post-mortem.’
Her distorted face was now facing upwards; heavy, bulging, bloodshot eyes, cold and unseeing, stared at the ceiling.
Dylan went down on his haunches again to get a closer look. Patti’s green eyes bid him to do what she could not – bring her killer to justice. It sent a shiver down his spine. Whoever said you got used to seeing a dead body was lying.
‘Her face is like something you’d see in a horror movie,’ said Vicky, her forehead buckled as she frowned. As she turned to Emily there lurked a flash of mischief in her eyes, ‘Or round town on a Saturday night when they’re off their heads on summat or other.’ Emily eyes were unbelieving. ‘Because that’s smart.’
Dylan concentrated, his face inches away from Patti’s. ‘We can’t fast-forward past this bit, as much as we’d like to, though, can we?’ he said as he reared his head for a second and his eyes caught Vicky’s.
‘No. We need to nail the evil bastard who did it.’
‘Don’t mince your words,’ Tony said, giving Vicky an eyebrow flash.
‘The bastard who did this to her should bloody hang,’ said Vicky.
‘That’s out of our control and you know it. But, hopefully, with the evidence we gather and put to CPS, they’ll be able to put the perpetrator before the court and then it’s up to judge and jury.’
‘It’d do them good, to see this, those do-gooders who oppose bringing back the death penalty,’ Vicky said, with a slight nod of her head towards the body of the young girl.
Dylan was more than aware that rarely, if ever, did you get a second chance at gathering evidence at a murder scene. This initial team of five had begun piecing together the jigsaw of this crime puzzle. It was of paramount importance to ensure nothing was missed at this stage, and the anticipation and eagerness of the team was palpable. They were all aware that there would be plenty of ‘pieces of blue sky’ that didn’t move things forward, but all were required for collection to achieve the full picture and a positive outcome.
As the Detective Inspector, Dylan was the senior investigating officer, the SIO, the man in charge. His experience, leadership and decision-making were paramount to the outcome of the case; the pursuit of the killer was driven by him and he pulled on all his experience, knowledge, training and expertise – more than ever at this crucial stage of the investigation. All that was done during the enquiry, and why, was being recorded in his policy log, in which he would date and sign all his actions. When it came to the court case some eighteen months later, and he stood in the witness box giving his evidence to the Crown, the chronological process of the investigation could be followed and understood by the judge and jury, as to why certain actions were carried out and others weren’t, to achieve the end result of the perpetrator being stood before them in the dock – on trial for Patti’s murder.
Dylan turned to Vicky. ‘Make arrangement for her body to be removed to the mortuary,’ he said in the knowledge that the next time he saw Patti she would be laid on a cold slab in the forensic post-mortem.
Dylan and Vicky stood side-by-side at the entrance to the dead girl’s bedroom. The room was bright and warm, being south-facing. The sun shone on the framed certificates, photographs and highly polished trophies within: a shrine to her gymnastic career.
‘We will never know now what she could have achieved.’ Vicky sighed.
Emily looked over Vicky’s shoulder and admired the pictures. ‘Wow, she looked older than fourteen, didn’t she?’ She didn’t wait for a reply as her eyes went to the duvet on the single bed. ‘Looks like there may have been a tussle.’
‘I don’t think so. Nothing else appears to have been disturbed,’ said Vicky.
‘You’re right. She probably threw her duvet over her bed in haste before she left for school.’
Dylan’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t want to leave anything to chance. Seize the sheets and the bedding, Emily.’
‘Maybe she knew her attacker?’ said Vicky.
‘Or perhaps her attacker was waiting for her here?’ said Dylan. ‘Imagine it. She steps out of the bedroom, is hit where we’re stood, she takes one step, and collapses.’
‘David, when you check the walls and ceiling for marks will you also look for even the slightest bit of blood distribution. Let’s face it, we know she was physically fit. I’d have expected there to be more evidence of a struggle if she hadn’t been taken by surprise.’
Those that knew Dylan also knew that he encouraged views from others; he would be the first to admit he didn’t know everything. Far from it, being a detective meant you were constantly learning – never knowing what you would deal with next was one of the attractions of the job. At almost every suspicious death Dylan had attended, he had learnt or seen something new. His past experience, his apprenticeship, and his schooling had all been invaluable to him, and that allowed him to make quick and positive decisions at scenes such as these. If the circumstances of a death turned out not to be suspicious, Dylan would give those protecting the outer scenes an opportunity to see it, by inviting them inside the inner cordon to try to understand for themselves what had taken place. It was how he had first set his eyes upon Vicky Hardacre, now a detective sergeant on his team.
Dylan’s trained eyes scanned Patti’s bedroom. A closed laptop sat on her bedside table.
‘What you hoping to find, sir?’ said Emily. ‘The room will be searched soon. Won’t the outcome of that tell you all you need to know?’
‘There is nothing like being in the victim’s home environment to get an impression of how they lived.’ There was fire in Dylan’s eyes. ‘In the coming hours we’ll start to gather information on her daily routine and her lifestyle choices, which at present appear to revolve around gymnastics. I wonder if she’d normally be home at this time of day?’
‘We’ll check with her school principal when we inform them of what’s happened,’ said Vicky.
‘I want you to check if any of her clothing has been ripped, Emily. If not, we could think that the blow to her head disabled her to such an extent that her attacker had full control over her.’
Vicky raised her eyebrows. ‘Ah, but we never assume though, do we, boss?’
Dylan’s smile reached his eyes. ‘Never, Vicky. We can be totally misled by what we see. Talking of which…’ Dylan looked directly at the floor and then looked about him. ‘Whatever she was hit with has either been put back in its original place or her attacker has taken it away with them.’ His eyes met Vicky’s. ‘Have you got a pen? We need a detailed timeline of her movements. I want to know if there have been any issues at school, any gossip involving her, and background intelligence. We need a dedicated a team of officers to go to the school and liaise directly with the principal, teachers and Patti’s school friends. Nev Duke is Detective Sergeant on lates – get him in early. Let him break the news. We’ll also need house-to-house enquiries carrying out as soon as possible. See what the neighbours know about the family, and if they saw anything.’
‘There were enough watching what was happening from behind their curtains when we arrived. Let’s hope they were just as curious earlier,’ said Emily.
‘Did Patti have a boyfriend, do you know?’ asked Dylan.
Vicky shook her head. ‘Don’t know.’
‘We need to know.’
‘I’ll speak to Connie in the press office and let them know a murder enquiry is underway. We need to stress the fact that relatives have yet to be informed, and make sure the girl’s identity isn’t released or confirmed until we are sure that all family and friends have been notified.’ Dylan took a deep breath. ‘Time to speak to Mum and stepdad now, I think. They will be desperate to know what’s happening.’
‘Clear the ground beneath our feet…’ Vicky said out of the corner of her mouth to Emily.
‘And hopefully they’ll share with us anything else that has been going on in Patti’s life that they think we need to be aware of,’ said Dylan.
‘Ah… That depends on what she’s told them. Teenagers are not known for being open with their parents.’ Emily tapped her nose.
‘Or anything in my case,’ said Vicky raising her eyebrows.
Dylan looked perplexed. ‘Well, we’ll just have to hope Patti isn’t another Vicky Hardacre, won’t we?’
Emily groaned. ‘Heaven forbid.’
Vicky flashed her colleague her middle finger and Emily showed her the tip of her tongue.
‘Did you notice a mobile anywhere?’ said Dylan. ‘I can’t imagine a fourteen-year-old girl hasn’t got her phone close by.’
His question was met with shaking heads.
‘Make it a priority for the POLSA search. That’ll no doubt hold valuable information at this stage of the enquiry.’
‘Will do,’ said Vicky.
‘Before I leave I want to take a look at that downstairs patio door,’ Dylan said as he turned for the stairs. He waved Vicky and Emily to go before him.
Vicky pointed to a canvas bag behind the open front door as she reached the bottom ‘Patti’s?’ She looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Dylan. Stooping over it, with her gloved hand she opened it wide and peered inside. ‘It’s hers… And… We have her mobile phone. It’s switched off,’ she said, eyes down as she examined it in the palm of her hand. She passed it to Emily. ‘Lots of other bits and bobs, books and a purse…’
‘Exhibit each item, Emily. If it’s anything like Jen’s handbag, we’ll be here for a month of Sundays waiting for you to go through it. But worthwhile, as it might tell us a bit more about her.’
Dylan’s eyes wandered to the patio doors. ‘They were only locked at the central lock, you say?’ David yanked them with his gloved hand and they glided open with ease. He gave the handle a shove and they closed back together with a soft click. Entry or exit of the perpetrator, maybe both; could it simply be the case that the last time one of the family members used the door they hadn’t put the deadbolts on?
‘Interesting,’ said Dylan with a frown. ‘Vicky, I’ll leave you to oversee the movement of her body to the mortuary. When we’ve done that, and scene of crime have finished, I want the house secured and guarded. I’ll get back to the nick, get the incident room up and running, speak to Detective Sergeant Duke, and then speak to Mum and stepdad. I’ll see you back there in a while. Keep in touch.’
As he walked towards the door the coroner’s officer, Jim Duggan, had just reached the front door. The two men acknowledged each other. ‘Do your best to get the pathologist to do a post-mortem as soon as possible will you, due to the age of the victim?’ Dylan said.
Vicky stepped out of the front door with Dylan. ‘I wonder how Mum’s coping?’ she said as she removed her coverall’s hood and wiped her sweating forehead with the back of her hand.
‘I’m going to find out very shortly’ he said.
Chapter Two
Press officer Connie Seabourne was sat in the CID office on his arrival. Her big, round blue eyes saw him before he saw her, and she made a beeline for him, briskly following him into his office.
‘I was on a course this morning upstairs when I got the call. I am told the press is onto it. What can we tell them?’
Dylan sat down behind his desk and hastily she sat down opposite him – pink pen poised above a blank page in her notepad.
‘Nothing yet.’ Dylan gave her a brief smile.
Connie puckered her lips. ‘Nothing?’ she beseeched.
Dylan shook his head. ‘I’m just about to speak to the dead girl’s mum and stepdad. I don’t want any details of her, or anything that is likely to identify her, to be given to the media until we have confirmation that all her family members have been notified.’
Connie shrugged her cashmere-clad shoulders. ‘No worries,’ she said. ‘I’ll get back to the press office. You just let me know when you want me to do the press release.’
‘It might be after five.’
‘I’m doing a double shift – no holiday cover in the office for Claire.’ Connie raised her perfectly groomed eyebrows that framed her impeccable eye make-up and ran her sparkly painted nails through her long blonde hair. She stood. ‘No forward planning with the job cuts – so what’s new. Good job I love my job!’ she quipped.
