Eight
Kim perched on the edge of the spare desk with a strong black coffee in her hand. Pain and nightmares had kept her awake until well after 2 a.m.
Her team waited expectantly as they began their first day of a new investigation without Detective Sergeant Kevin Dawson. She didn’t know if they expected her to say something. To mark the occasion in some way; formally acknowledge his absence. She would not.
‘Before we start, new guy will be here shortly. Apparently we need to be at full strength for this investigation.’
She chose not to inform her team that her immediate response to Woody’s news had been to refuse. But her boss was right. They had a body and their personal feelings were not the priority.
She waited for a moment for her team to digest that there would be a fourth that wasn’t Dawson.
Kim glanced at the empty desk.
‘Stacey, move,’ she said.
‘Boss?’
She nodded towards the offending desk.
Stacey followed her gaze and understood.
‘Yes, boss,’ she said, gathering her stuff together.
None of them could tolerate the thought of a stranger sitting in that spot.
‘Bryant, get the board,’ she said, as Stacey focussed on moving desks.
Bryant took four photos from the printer.
He wrote Cordell’s name on the top and taped up the pictures. The first was a close-up of the neck injury, no less horrific in the cold light of day.
‘Ugh,’ Stacey said as she wheeled her ergonomically designed chair into position.
The second was a long shot of the body before he’d been turned, and the third was a close-up of the shoe print. As yet their only clue. And the fourth was the gash to the back of the head.
With her belongings moved, Stacey logged on to the computer and rejoined the conversation.
‘Okay?’ Kim asked.
The change of scenery would also alter the landscape for the constable. She would no longer have to stare at the empty space, picturing him right there.
‘Okay, so we know that Cordell had his throat slit from ear to ear, but what these photos don’t show is the numerous stab wounds inflicted to the body after death. Approximately twenty-seven.
‘Cordell’s car was not found at the scene, so our attacker either took the man’s vehicle or Cordell made his way to the park by other means. No evidence of a struggle to the kill spot, so there may have been more than one person involved. Cordell appears to have lost a little weight since we last saw him but still a substantial man to push around.’
‘So many stab wounds?’ Stacey asked.
As a team, one of the first things they considered were the motivational categories. Anger, criminal enterprise, ideology, power and thrill, psychosis, sex and financial gain. The first category was a certainty given the abuse of the body after death but it didn’t automatically rule out the rest.
‘Frenzy,’ Kim said, following her gaze. ‘Killing him once wasn’t enough. Our killer wanted to do it all over again.’
‘Jeez, what did he do?’ Stacey asked.
‘We do know of his involvement with Heathcrest, the Spades, and illegal abortions, which is where we begin our search. Bryant and I will attend the post-mortem at nine and then speak to his family; if you can get me his—’
‘Got it,’ Stacey said, passing a piece of paper to Bryant.
‘Two addresses?’ he asked.
‘Yep, very nice house in Hartlebury and a one-bed flat in Dudley.’
‘Strange,’ Kim said.
‘And I’m pretty sure he dow work at Oakwood no more,’ Stacey said, tapping a few keys.
Kim moved to stand behind her.
‘Because he ain’t on the who’s who family tree on the clinic’s website.’
Hmm… Even stranger, Kim thought as a sudden notion occurred to her.
‘Ahem,’ she heard from the doorway.
Three heads turned to look in the same direction.
It took Kim just three seconds to connect the dots.
They were all now looking at Kevin Dawson’s replacement.