Cold as Ice (Willis/Carter #2)(5)

‘I’ll know you,’ the woman answered.

‘Oh . . . all right. Well, I’ll see you at four then. I’m looking forward it.’ Tracy was just about to ask her how she would know her when the phone went dead. ‘Hello? Danielle?’ Tracy looked at the phone in her hand for a few seconds. Had she handled that well? Had she come across okay? She sighed and set about saving the number: new contact.

Tracy felt butterflies in her stomach. Some of it was guilt. She hadn’t told Steve what she was up to. She didn’t know why but it didn’t seem a good idea; not until she was sure what would come of it. She went back into the bathroom and applied fresh glue to the eyelash on the side of the sink. As she waited for her hand to stop shaking she looked at her reflection. Danielle must have come into Simmons and seen Tracy behind the counter. What had she thought? She always tried to make a good impression and to look her best. Had she looked okay that day? She must have, she supposed, otherwise Danielle wouldn’t want to see her, let alone bring her son.

Tracy paused, eyelash on her finger, and looked into her reflection. She felt old suddenly. She looked at herself and frowned. Thirty-six wasn’t old. Deep inside she was still the same girl she used to be. She still wore the same make-up she’d worn as a teenager. Her hair was dyed to keep it looking vibrant. Her skirts were longer now. But inside she was the same girl who’d got pregnant at fifteen.





Chapter 4


Carter and Willis returned to Fletcher House, where they were part of the thirty-eight-man Murder Squad. Fletcher House was at the back of Archway Tube station and joined onto Archway Police Station. Just a door separated the normal goings-on of a police station from what they called ‘The Dark Side’. It was home to Major Incident Team seventeen, MIT 17, along with three other MIT teams that served Londoners north of the Thames. Each MIT team had its own, identically laid out, floor. MIT17 was on the third floor.

‘Sir?’ Carter knocked and entered Detective Chief Inspector Bowie’s office door. Since the retirement of Superintendent Tanner, Bowie was the most senior detective in MIT 17.

‘You got a callout this morning?’ Bowie asked from behind his desk. The desk itself was messy, littered with papers and personal effects. In pride of place were photos of his wife and kids.

Carter came to sit down opposite him. Despite his expensive suit and three-hundred-quid shoes, Bowie always had a dishevelled look; his shoes needed cleaning and his suit didn’t sit properly on his bony shoulders. He struggled to keep weight on. He was pale, tall and blond with watery blue eyes.

‘A woman pulled out of Regent’s Canal at King’s Cross, Sir.’ Carter took off his coat and scarf and hung them over the back of the chair.

‘Any idea who she is?’

‘Not yet. She’s pretty distinctive with long auburn hair, youngish – early twenties. She has a tattoo which we’re hopeful about.’

‘How did she die?’

‘She’d been strangled. Probable sexual motive. She had a plastic bag over her head.’

‘Maybe a sex game gone wrong?’

‘I was thinking the same.’

‘Dismembered?’

‘No.’

‘Heat of the moment then – he panics and throws her into the canal.’

‘Yeah,’ agreed Carter. ‘Except Doctor Harding says the bag was put on after death.’

‘You’re SIO on this investigation. Operation Sparrowhawk.’ Carter nodded. Murder Investigations were named in alphabetical sequence, they followed groups. The last group had been towns in Australia; this time it was birds of prey.

‘Still, I think a prostitute seems likely,’ said Carter. ‘We’ll get officers out on the surrounding streets with a photofit of her and see if any of the regulars recognize her. SOCOs are out searching the surrounding undergrowth and along the towpath for any items of clothing or ID but I’m not expecting great results. Doctor Harding estimates she’d been in the water a couple of months, maybe three.’

‘Was she wearing any clothing?’

‘She was naked except for a chain around her neck with two rings on it. One of them is worth money – we’re running it through lost and stolen property files now.’

‘What’s the condition of the body?’

‘The drop in water temperature has kept it from decomposing too far. Skin is still there but it’s lifted and most of her fingers are gone. But she was in a bad way before she ended up at the bottom of the canal.’ Carter took out his phone and handed it to Bowie. ‘She has these wounds over her body.’

Bowie took the phone from him and slid his finger across the screen as he viewed the shots.

‘Nasty. Aren’t they caused by the pond life?’

Carter shook his head.

‘What does Doctor Harding say they are?’

‘She says they started out as ulcers left untreated – it’s possibly down to some contaminated heroin injected under the skin.’

‘Better see if there is some on the streets that’s capable of that.’

‘Yeah – doing it.’

‘Anyone interviewed the lad that found her yet?’

‘We took a statement from him earlier, much earlier.’ A smile crept across Carter’s face. ‘We’re holding him for a bit longer just in case we remember anything else we want to ask him. Then maybe he’ll remember his civic duty next time and call us first instead of posting a photo on Instagram.’