Their Lost Daughters (DI Jackman & DS Evans #2)(51)
‘Come on. Let’s get out of here.’
*
As they emerged from the tunnel into the warm evening, Marie felt tears slowly trickle down her cheeks. During her time in the force she had seen many terrible things — the massacred farm workers at Red House Farm, the bodies in Dovegate Lane, Simeon Mulberry and his wife, Charlotte. But today? What she had seen today was beyond all imagining.
She had to ring her mother. She needed to tell her mum that she loved her.
She dialled, glad, for once, that her mum lived far away in Wales. If her mother knew what her daughter had to confront every day of her working life, she would probably never sleep again.
‘Mum?’ Marie pressed the phone closer to her ear and smiled. ‘Hi, you, and yes, we are up to our necks as usual.’
‘You’ve had a very bad day?’
‘The worst, Mum.’
‘Can I help?’
‘You already have. Tell me about something normal that happened today, something ordinary.’
‘The dog was sick on my best mat.’
Marie laughed. ‘That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.’
‘There’s better to come. Maeve Henshaw’s shed blew down in the wind last night and the entire Boy Scout troop turned out to save all her mushrooms.’
Her mother’s lilting voice was the perfect antidote. By the time she ended the call she was herself again, DS Marie Evans, a damned good detective. One who was about to put away an evil killer of young women and children.
She pushed her phone back into her bag and inhaled deeply. Whatever was coming next, Marie was ready.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Even Rory Wilkinson was silent when he saw what awaited him in the underground room. He turned to Jackman and simply said, ‘If I were you, I would accept any offers they make regarding counselling.’
‘I’m okay, Rory. I hear what you’re saying though, and maybe I’ll have a chat with someone when I’ve caught the man who did this.’
‘You think it’s a man?’ asked Rory.
Jackman didn’t answer. A woman? Surely a woman couldn’t . . .
‘I only say that because of the nice touches.’ Rory looked around. ‘The flower vases and the neat way the victims’ clothes are hung up.’
Jackman looked nonplussed. ‘Clothes?’
‘Look, over to the far wall. See that row of metal lockers? The victims’ clothes are all neatly hung up and labelled. Our killer couldn’t have been more helpful. Not only do we have first names, we have the clothes these poor souls were wearing when they went missing. Some are very fragile, little more than rags, but others are almost new.’ Rory looked around the underground room. ‘The atmosphere and the low temperatures down here have slowed deterioration considerably, but it will take a while to get answers to all your questions, Inspector.’
Jackman nodded. ‘I know. But the man — or woman — who did this was probably in this very room as recently as this morning. Now they are out there, somewhere close, and because of what they have just lost, I don’t have to tell you how dangerous they are.’ Jackman stared at him. ‘I don’t have long, and if Emily doesn’t recover, I only have you to help me.’
‘And I will. One thing I do know, one of the victims is very much older than the others.’
‘What is the significance of that, I wonder?’
‘I’m not sure, but one of these corpses is twenty to thirty years old. I’ll give you a much closer estimation after we’ve carried out a post-mortem, but that one is definitely the oldest, so maybe she was the cause of all this.’ Rory adjusted his glasses and looked around. ‘I keep thinking I’ve wandered into one of those weird modern art exhibits. You couldn’t stage anything more grotesque if you tried.’
‘Can I take a look in those lockers?’ Jackman raised his gloved hands.
‘Of course you can, but you will notice that although there are thirteen victims, including your one survivor, there are only ten sets of clothing.’
‘It’s still a fantastic piece of luck, Rory. It will help with identification.’
Rory nodded. ‘There’s one thing that I don’t like about this place, apart from the blindingly obvious. What do you smell, apart from the stench of decay?’
‘Antiseptic? Bleach? Some sort of industrial cleaning fluid?’
‘Exactly. And look at the floor. There’s no dirt, no fluff, no cobwebs. I’ve got more dust-bunnies floating round my lounge.’ Rory gave a little shrug. ‘I’d say this place is as close to sterile as he or she could get it.’
‘Which will play havoc with your search for evidence?’
‘I’m not saying that. Our methods are far more sophisticated these days. It’s almost impossible not to leave some traces. We’ll just have to work a little harder than normal. And on that note, I think I’m ready for my team to come in now, so if you have no objection?’
Jackman walked towards the door. ‘Whatever you need, Rory, just ask. Additional lighting, manpower, extra vehicles, anything. No one will dare scream, “Budget!” on this occasion.’
Rory nodded. ‘I’ll be in touch as soon as we find anything that will be of use to you.’
Jackman raised his hand in thanks, and stood back as the first wave of blue-suited, hooded figures carried their equipment into the underground room.