Their Lost Daughters (DI Jackman & DS Evans #2)(2)
Jackman shivered, and then voices echoed across the narrow dune-edged beach and dragged him away from his sombre thoughts.
DS Marie Evans was hurrying towards him, accompanied by the county’s forensic pathologist, Professor Rory Wilkinson. Jackman was glad that the man himself had turned out this morning and not delegated the task to another. Wilkinson was an oddball, but much better than his predecessor. Jackman had always struggled with Arthur Jacobs. He knew that the old pathologist was competent, and indeed very clever, but Jackman found him cold and spiritless, and working with him was hard going. Rory Wilkinson was at the other end of the spectrum, and once Jackman had seen past the high camp humour, he realised that Saltern-le-Fen was very lucky to have him.
Not that there would be much in the way of banter today.
Marie arrived a few steps ahead of the pathologist. She must have left home as swiftly as he had, but her motorcycle leathers concealed the evidence. She looked wide awake. He supposed that riding a big Suzuki V-Strom 650cc bike in the cold of the early morning would probably do that.
‘Is it her?’ she breathed.
He shrugged. ‘Take a look for yourself. I’m not sure.’ He turned to Wilkinson and nodded a greeting. ‘Glad you’re the one to turn out this morning, Rory. By the look of it, I’m really going to need your help and expertise.’
‘Oh, but you always need my help, Inspector. And you might be happy that I’m freezing my bollocks off on the edge of the North Sea at five in the morning, but I’m not so sure. My fluffy duvet is still calling out to me.’
Rory stepped towards the dead girl and dropped the act immediately. ‘The jungle drums tell me that she may belong to one of our people?’
Jackman noticed the softness to his tone. ‘It could be. We have been looking for a runaway for the last three days. Shauna Kelly, fourteen-year-old daughter of Liz Kelly, a civilian who works in the control room.’
‘The age is probably similar,’ murmured the pathologist, kneeling down and gently inspecting his new charge. ‘But I’ll have to get her back to the morgue before I can tell you anything constructive.’ He stood up and pushed his wire-rimmed glasses further up onto the bridge of his nose.
‘And I’m afraid I have to warn you that it is not easy with these particular cases. Sometimes it’s almost impossible to determine the manner of death from a post-mortem. Maybe the lungs and the sinuses will turn up something, but our best bet will be a complete toxicological analysis. So don’t rush me, okay? I promise to do my best and I’m fully aware it’s high priority.’ He beckoned to a SOCO who was waiting tentatively near the dunes.
‘Time to shine, my friend. I want photographs and a very careful examination.’ He turned back to Jackman. ‘We’ll get her shipped out ASAP. It’s the best I can do. And I hate to say this, but right now I know little more than you. The poor kid is dead, and it didn’t happen in the last few hours. She’s been in the water for quite a while.’ He drew in a whistling breath and stared hard at Jackman. ‘Sorry, but I’m passing the buck back to you, DI Jackman. You need to discover the circumstances behind this girl’s death, and then we’ll try to tie it in with my findings.’
‘I need to know who she is before I can do that,’ said Jackman grimly.
‘Well, there are two simple ways that you can either confirm or eliminate Shauna Kelly. Bring in the next of kin to identify her, or failing that, wait for the dental records report.’ He gave them a rather sad smile. ‘And I’m pretty sure which of the two options you guys will go for.’ He picked up his bag.
‘And now, as I have no wish to hear what I’m sure will be a simply divine dawn chorus, I’m going to get back and make arrangements for this poor girl.’
Jackman and Marie watched him stride back up the beach.
‘What they call an acquired taste, I believe.’ Marie grinned.
‘I’ve acquired it already. He’s good. In fact, he’s one of the best I’ve come across.’
‘Agreed.’
They walked to a quiet spot further up the beach, a little way away from the blue lights and the gathering uniforms. Jackman sat on a low stone wall that edged the dunes.
‘What do you know about the tides along this stretch, Marie?’ Jackman asked.
She sucked on her bottom lip. ‘Not much, but I know a man who does. Jack Archer, a real web-foot if ever there was one. He lived way out on the marsh for most of his life. His dad and granddad were eel-catchers. Now he’s in an old people’s place just outside your village. Social Services moved him off the marsh when he took ill and there was no one to look after him. He knows these fens better than anyone.’
‘Go see him, Marie. Tell him the exact spot where the girl washed up, and ask him if he could give us an idea of what part of the coast she went in from. If he knows the area that well, he might be able to help us.’
‘Okay. He’s in his eighties, but I reckon he’ll still be an early riser. I’ll grab a shower, then go round and see him as soon as it’s properly light.’
Jackman took in the sight of the liquid gold sun breaking through the grey marbled sky and reflecting across the quicksilver waters of the Wash. ‘Look at that,’ he said softly. ‘This place is something else, isn’t it? If it weren’t for that poor kid lying on the beach, it would be magical.’