Somebody's Daughter Page 2

  ‘I can’t wait around. I have a date. Tell him I said hello and ask him not to spoil her too much. It’s partly his fault she wants the damn dog. You know how enthusiastic he gets when he’s with her. He mentioned getting a pet and sowed the seed in her mind. It isn’t him who has to deal with the fallout. Remind him to tone it down, will you?’

  Natalie gave a tight smile. She had no intention of acting as a go-between. If Nicole had issues with Mike, she could raise them with him.

  ‘And ask him not to let her overdose on sugar. She was high as a kite for ages thanks to the massive tub of sweets he gave her last time she visited,’ said Nicole. With that, she spun on her heel and returned to the warmth of her car.

  Natalie shut the door, rested her back against it and exhaled. Nicole seemed to be fine about her living with Mike, but the slight animosity between Mike and his ex was evident. Thea was as much Mike’s daughter as Nicole’s, and given he only saw her once a fortnight, or even less depending on his work schedule, it was understandable he would want to spoil the child on those rare occasions he spent time with her.

  Thea appeared in the hallway, the toy dog still in her arms. Natalie kept her voice light. ‘We’ve got all sorts of things planned for the party and even some prizes for the games. Would you like to see what we’ve got?’

  Thea shook her head.

  ‘Then how about you come and help me set the table? You can even try one of the special toffee apples, if you like.’

  ‘I feel sick.’

  ‘Do you want to unpack your bag and have a rest for a while?’

  The girl’s bottom lip jutted.

  ‘There’s something special in your bedroom.’ Knowing Thea was crazy about Frozen, she and Mike had bought new bedlinen covered with the Disney characters and pictures, and Natalie had chosen a talking Olaf toy for the girl. Looking at her hugging the dog, she now realised it was a poor choice. She ought to have gone for something soft and cuddly.

  The girl’s shoulders drooped. Natalie understood it was difficult for Thea. Even though she knew Natalie and Josh were living here, it must still feel strange to her. She’d been used to being alone with Mike when she visited, and now she had to share her precious father–daughter time with Josh and Natalie. As much as Natalie included the girl in everything, or went out of her way to be nice to her, the child was still jealous and wanted her father to herself.

  ‘Hey!’ Mike’s voice broke the mood, and Thea dropped Dog and propelled towards him at speed, jumping for him to catch her then looping her arms around his neck like a small monkey. Mike laughed. ‘Wow, somebody is loving today.’

  ‘She says she feels sick,’ said Natalie.

  Mike picked up on the subtext instantly and gave Thea a mock-serious look, felt her forehead and tutted. ‘Oh dear! She is sick, Natalie. You’d better ring the doctor.’

  ‘Oh no, what do you think is wrong with her?’ said Natalie, playing along.

  ‘I think Thea has… Bonfire-itis. It’s a serious illness. First, you feel sick, then you go bright green and then… your nose turns into a giant apple!’

  Thea giggled and Mike tweaked her nose with his thumb and made a parping noise. ‘It’s happening already. Quick, call the doctor. Oh, poor Thea! She’ll be too sick to eat cake, too ill to watch her daddy’s special fireworks and too poorly to play games with her friends. They might think her nose is one of the apples in apple-bobbing! Oh no!’ The child snickered loudly, her arms firmly clamped around his neck. ‘What a shame. I’ll take her upstairs to bed and then we’ll eat all the chocolate fudge while she sleeps.’

  ‘No, Daddy. I want fudge and fireworks.’

  ‘No, sorry, poppet. Children with Bonfire-itis must go to bed and drink cold… cold green tea!’

  ‘I’m not feeling sick!’

  He laughed, the sound of a jolly giant. ‘Hurray! She’s cured.’ He winked at Natalie and carried the girl into the kitchen.

  Natalie’s cheeks puffed out and she exhaled noisily. It was never easy with Thea. She was one tough nut to crack but Natalie wasn’t going to give up, and tonight she was going to give Thea a great party.

  Her mobile phone rang, hardly audible over the squeals coming from Thea, who had spotted the fairy lights and was trying to persuade Mike to carry her outside. Natalie moved into the hallway to take the call. It was her recently appointed DI, Lucy Carmichael.

  ‘Hi, Natalie. Sorry to bother you but we’ve been called to a crime scene – a young woman found in the car park near Samford Shopping Centre. We’ve cordoned off the area but the press are already here. Superintendent Tasker is in London and I was advised to ring you.’

  Natalie grimaced. Of all the nights! She couldn’t up and leave Mike to handle everything.

  Lucy continued, ‘The victim is a girl in her teens, we think. Looks like she’s been attacked and strangled.’

  Shards of ice formed in Natalie’s veins. A teenager, strangled. Visions of Leigh and her best friend, Zoe, flickered like a movie in front of her eyes.

  ‘Natalie?’

  ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  ‘Be where?’ Mike was back, Thea beside him now, one small hand in his and the other holding a toffee apple.

  Natalie shook her head. ‘That was Lucy.’ She couldn’t say too much in front of Thea.

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘I’ll be as quick as I can. Can you manage with the party, or shall I ring around and call it off?’

  ‘No. It’s fine. I have my little helper here. You’ll help Daddy with the party, won’t you, pumpkin?’ he said to Thea, whose eyes suddenly brightened at the prospect.

  ‘I’m really sorry. Dan’s not around and Lucy needs me.’

  ‘It’s not a problem. I understand. It’s happened to me more than enough times.’

  She raced upstairs to collect her bag containing everything she’d need for a crime scene, and quickly changed into appropriate clothing in case the press wanted to speak to her. As a new DCI she needed to look and act the part. The sound of laughter rose from downstairs. Mike was playing some noisy game that involved them roaring loudly. It both warmed and saddened her. It was the same whenever Thea came to stay. Natalie couldn’t help but think of the past when she and David had been parents to two wonderful children and had spent moments behaving exactly the same way, playing, teasing and enjoying their time. She’d hoped tonight would bring her and Thea closer, but now it would be another father–daughter night.

  After she’d said goodbye to them both and clambered into her car, she wondered if part of her wasn’t glad this had happened. At least now she didn’t have to be reminded too much of the past.

  Chapter Two

  Friday, 1 November – Late Afternoon

  The West Gate car park had spaces for eighty cars but was rarely used, with most shoppers and visitors to town preferring the newer multi-storey building with lifts that transported patrons directly into Samford Shopping Centre. West Gate was now mostly used during peak shopping periods in December, when there were no places left at other car parks, or by out-of-towners, unfamiliar with the town layout, who didn’t know about the brisk fifteen-minute walk to the nearest shops.

  The road to the car park was blocked by a squad car and police officers, who held the swelling crowd at bay and waved Natalie’s car through, past eager-faced journalists who jostled for position and light-bulb popping cameras aimed at her windows, to join the other emergency and official vehicles stationed alongside the low wall. As Natalie approached the entrance to West Gate, she couldn’t miss the makeshift tent erected at the far side, or the white-uniformed officers who searched the black tarmac. She parked behind DS Murray Anderson’s Jeep Renegade, and DI Lucy Carmichael ducked under the cordon tape strung across the entrance to greet Natalie as she stepped from her car.

  From where they stood, she could hear the shouts and calls.

  ‘How did the press find out about this so quickly?’

  ‘A “concerned citizen” tweeted there’d
been a murder in the car park, and before we knew it, the tweet had been shared heaven knows how many times and the press were here. Flipping Internet has a lot to answer for.’

  ‘We can’t let speculation get out. Give me a moment. I ought to have a word with them.’ She strode back towards the roadblock to speak to the news-hungry journalists.

  ‘DCI Ward, what can you tell us?’

  ‘Is this the work of one killer?’

  ‘Can you confirm this is the work of a murderer?’

  The shouts and calls merged into one and she lifted a hand, waiting for them to fall silent.

  ‘Good afternoon. I appreciate you want to know what has happened here but please give me a few moments to speak to my officers and examine the crime scene before I can answer your questions. It is far too soon for speculation of any sort, and I shall bring you up to date as soon as I am able to.’

  The reporters were aware of the tragedy that had befallen her family a little over a year ago, in August 2018, and were respectful of her wishes, quietening in an instant and dropping back, allowing her space to accompany Lucy back under the cordon and towards the tent. Lucy looked composed. She’d only held the position of DI for two weeks but she was already growing into the role. Natalie had been impressed by her efforts.

  Both of her detective sergeants had deserved promotion and she had made a sound case for each of them. Ultimately, it had been Superintendent Dan Tasker’s decision to choose which one of them would take over the role Natalie had vacated and become the DI of a new, larger crime unit. Murray had missed out this time but the unit was growing and it would not be long before he would be given the same opportunity.

  Natalie strode across the car park, wind whipping at the nape of her neck, hands in her pockets, Lucy by her side.

  ‘Thank you for coming over. I wouldn’t have troubled you but the press picked up on it quickly and we need to be seen to be proactive.’

  Those sounded like Dan’s words. Undoubtedly, he would have lectured Lucy on how important it was for the police to work together with the press to appease the public. All eyes were on them. This was a super-unit, formed especially to tackle such crimes, and Lucy was under pressure to perform.

  ‘What can you tell me?’ asked Natalie.

  Lucy sighed. ‘Not enough. There’s no identification on the body – no handbag, purse, wallet, keys or anything to say who she is – and apart from the fact she looks like she’s mid-to-late teens and has most likely been strangled, we’re stumped. She might be a visitor to Samford or a local. One theory is she was attacked and robbed but we also can’t ignore the fact she might have been a sex worker.’ The car park was known as a hot spot for such activities, day and night.

  ‘Any distinguishing marks?’

  ‘Only piercings at the moment, unless Pinkney can discover something further.’ Her cold breath shot small white clouds into the darkened sky as she spoke. They came to a halt. Murray stood like a colossus in front of the tent, his massive frame concealing the entrance. He greeted Natalie and addressed both women.

  ‘I’ve interviewed a salesman, Benjamin Swinton, who came across her body. He’s not from this area and only happened to be parked here because he was at a sales meeting at Hardy’s department store, trying to flog them some plastic bottles. When he came to collect his car, he noticed her body in this corner of the car park.’

  ‘Hardy’s?’ Natalie was familiar with the small, family-run department store. It had been established in 1897 by a gentleman farmer, Benjamin Thomas Hardy, in one of the town’s oldest buildings. It had once been considered to be the Harrods of Staffordshire but today offered only cheap-and-cheerful goods and factory seconds, a high-street victim of competition from the major stores in the indoor shopping centre.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Is Mr Swinton still here?’ Natalie asked.

  ‘No, he had to leave. He needed to be in Reading tonight. He has another three scheduled appointments tomorrow, all in the south.’

  ‘I take it you looked into his story?’

  Murray nodded. ‘Yes. It all checks out. He attended a meeting in Solihull which ended at 1.30 p.m. and then drove to Samford, arriving five minutes early for his half past two appointment with Rachel Hardy, the senior sales manager. Their business meeting ended at 4.25 p.m., and we know Benjamin Swinton rang the police at 4.42 p.m., so there was insufficient time in between him leaving the store, walking to the car park and dialling 999, to attack the victim.’

  It would have taken Benjamin at least fifty minutes to travel between Solihull and Samford so there’d be no opportunity to kill the girl before his meeting with Rachel either. Natalie nodded. ‘And nobody else saw the victim or witnessed what happened?’

  ‘Not found anyone yet. Most people park in the multi-storey car park. This place isn’t popular, especially as it’s a fair way from the shopping centre and there are no street lights overlooking it. At this time of the year, when it gets dark earlier, it’s particularly unappealing.’

  Natalie could understand people’s reluctance to park here. She wouldn’t want to leave her car here and navigate the dim streets with boarded shopfronts to the shopping centre.

  ‘Do you want to see the victim?’ asked Lucy.

  ‘Yes.’ Natalie steeled herself for the sight. Ever since that dreadful day last August, she couldn’t look at a victim’s body without seeing Leigh and Zoe in their place. Their deaths would forever haunt her but she was prepared for what she would find and followed Lucy into the tent. Pinkney Watson, the forensic pathologist, sat back on his haunches and peered at Natalie over half-moon glasses.

  ‘Hello, DCI Ward.’ He greeted her with a small salute. ‘I’ve been looking forward to congratulating you, even though it’s a little late in the day.’

  She returned the gesture, which made him smile. He then spread out his arms to reveal the white-faced girl with chestnut, shoulder-length hair, liquid brown eyes and pale pink lips tinged with blue, parted to reveal a slight gap between her front teeth. Natalie’s eyes travelled over the deep orange jumper, cut off under her breasts to reveal a white, flat midriff and a pierced navel, continued across the short denim skirt, stretched across the top of bare, slim thighs, and rested on a pair of high-heeled ankle boots. A trench coat had been cast aside, near the body, and Natalie wondered why it had been removed on such a cold afternoon.

  ‘Any signs of sexual molestation?’ she asked Pinkney.

  He cleared his throat before speaking. ‘There are definitely traces of semen on her underwear. I’ll need to examine her more thoroughly before I can give you a clearer picture.’

  The strong, makeshift light over the young woman’s frail body brought out a few freckles scattered across her cheeks, further enhancing the impression of youth and innocence, reminding Natalie this girl was somebody’s daughter. Her death would hit them hard. ‘What can you tell us?’

  ‘For a start, the victim has been strangled. You’ll notice the subconjunctival haemorrhages are quite large. This is common in cases when the victim struggles and the assailant increases pressure on their neck,’ said Pinkney.

  Natalie couldn’t bring herself to look again at the girl’s eyes and instead studied the circular marks, one to two centimetres in diameter, dark red against her white throat.

  ‘The bruising suggests manual strangulation or throttling; and judging by the positioning and shape of these markings, this was a frontal attack. Here you can see where they are elongated.’ Pinkney pointed out two bruises on either side of her neck. ‘Caused by fingers sliding over the skin, and here we have scratches, probably caused by the victim herself, attempting to free herself from the grasp.’

  ‘She can’t weigh any more than fifty kilos at the most. It wouldn’t have taken a lot of pressure to throttle her,’ said Lucy, quietly.

  ‘She was a fighter,’ said Pinkney, and Natalie understood the insinuation that this young woman had not died quickly. She searched for a clue as to the victim’s iden
tity. The clothing was not expensive, and the heel on her right boot was showing signs of wear. There was no jewellery other than those in her piercings: a belly bar, a circular barbell ring in her septum, several silver hoops in her right ear lobe and in her left, a silver arrow penetrating two sites, the outer cartilage rim on the upper ear known as the helix, and the curved inner ridge parallel to it, the anti-helix.

  ‘Is her tongue pierced?’ she asked.

  ‘If it was, she removed the jewellery, and as you probably know, tongues heal quickly and leave no scar tissue.’

  Natalie crouched to better view the victim’s stomach. The piercing looked fresh, still slightly red, and the aqua teardrop belly bar unusual. Her eyes came to rest on the girl’s nails, uneven in length and with faint white horizontal lines across them, a possible sign of protein deficiency or stress. ‘What are your thoughts about this belly piercing? It looks like it might have been done recently.’

  ‘Although some heal quickly it can take anywhere from nine months to a year or even longer for a piercing like this one to heal, due to the constant movement of the belly.’

  ‘What about approximate time of death?’

  ‘Body temperature suggests she was murdered only a few hours ago. Probably between three o’clock and four-thirty.’

  ‘Okay, well, we need to identify her as soon as possible,’ she said to Lucy as she got to her feet.

  Lucy responded with, ‘I’ve got a team out canvassing the area. Without a mobile phone or anything to help us work out who she is, we’re clutching at the proverbial straws.’

  Natalie understood. It was extremely difficult to get started on an investigation when the victim’s identity was unknown, and they had no clues as to why she was in the area or what might have happened to her.

  Lucy carried on, shaking her head as she spoke. ‘Unless she was carrying no identification whatsoever, there’s a good chance somebody, presumably the perpetrator, has taken her bag and/or phone with them.’