Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)(7)

He smiled. ‘I will explain,’ he said, leading them outside. He closed the door behind him and began walking slowly, heading east.

‘Officially we are categorised as a research facility specialising in forensic anthropology and related disciplines,’ said the professor. ‘More commonly known as a body farm.’

‘Isn’t there one in America?’ Dawson asked.

‘There are actually six in America. The largest belongs to Texas State University and covers an area of seven acres.’

Dawson frowned and shook his head. ‘No, that’s not the…’

‘You’ll be thinking of the original body farm in Knoxville, Tennessee, founded by Doctor William Bass in eighty-one and made famous by the author Patricia Cornwell. Westerley is much smaller than the two and a half acres of the Texas facility but is used in the training of law enforcement in scene-of-crime skills and techniques. I visited the place some years ago and modelled Westerley on many of their ideas and theories.’

‘So how much land do you have?’ Dawson asked.

Professor Wright nodded forwards. ‘As far as the eye can see and a little bit beyond the south border.’

Kim followed his gaze. The area he’d indicated totalled seven or eight football pitches and although the ground undulated in places it was a downhill slope from the Portakabin.

He pointed to the west. ‘Those trees mark the barrier to Staffordshire. The entire south is blocked by hedgerow beyond the oak trees and to the east is a brook that separates us from our closest neighbours.’

‘And how do they feel?’ Dawson asked.

He smiled. ‘We don’t place a weekly advertisement but our closest neighbour is a food-packaging factory. It’s a half mile in any direction to the nearest resident.’

Dawson seemed satisfied.

‘How many bodies do you have?’ Bryant asked.

‘Currently seven.’

‘Where do you get ’em from?’ Stacey asked.

‘Donations from family members, a person’s own wishes as stated in a will—’

‘Hang on, Professor,’ Bryant interrupted. ‘You’re telling me that family members actually donate their loved ones to this research?’

Professor Wright hesitated. ‘Donations to medical research rarely state the nature of the research. Few family members would wish to know the details, but they are content to know that the death of a loved one may be of scientific benefit, and of course it is.’

Kim stepped in. ‘And some people will themselves here?’

‘Not necessarily to this exact location but to the benefit of research. Texas State has some one hundred bodies donated each year and over 1300 people have registered to be donated there specifically upon their demise.’

‘It has a waiting list?’ Kim asked incredulously.

Professor Wright smiled and nodded.

‘Are the bodies in varying states of decay?’ Stacey asked.

‘Yes, my dear, I think you’ll get a good idea of what we do from the two residents I’m heading towards.’

Kim caught Stacey’s slight stiffening at the endearment, but she smiled through her irritation.

They all followed as the morning sun finally broke through the white cloud and changed the face of the day completely.

Kim matched the professor’s stride. ‘It must be quite a unique funding system you have here?’

He nodded. ‘We are fortunate indeed that the majority of institutions we approached had an interest in our research and yet no one wants it on their doorstep. So we share our findings with all parties and offer assistance where we can.’

‘To current investigations?’

He nodded as he walked. ‘Of course. We intend to replicate as many scenarios as we can that will not only aid our research aims but assist the police with both current and historic investigations.’

And had already helped West Mercia solve two cold cases. Damn, Woody. Now she was bloody interested. Kim would not scoff at any additional police resource. Cold cases were frustrating to any officer on the force. They stayed in the back of your mind like a conversation that had ended before you’d had your say. They embedded themselves into your subconscious until you could put it to bed. And that was if you were lucky.

Sometimes they didn’t even make it to the back of your mind to be machinated over while you continued with the current workload. Now and again they remained at the forefront of your thoughts, doubts constantly gnawing and shredding your brain. Did I interview the correct witnesses? Did I miss a vital clue? Could I have done more? It was Kim’s opinion that it was cold cases that were responsible for much of the alcohol abuse within the police force.

‘So here we are,’ Professor Wright said, regaining her attention.

Kim noted two perfectly cut rectangles in the grass. As she got closer, she saw that they were makeshift graves.

‘Please meet Jack and Vera,’ Professor Wright said, pointing like a proud father.

‘Their real names?’ Stacey asked while Dawson rolled his eyes.

The professor shook his head. ‘No, they come to us with unique reference numbers, which remain their official identification, but we prefer a more personal approach out here in the field.’

Kim glanced to the foot of a nearby tree. Two bouquets were in their last throes of life. Roses and lilies.