‘The tide was coming in at 1am. So, whoever dumped her in the water must have known that she would be washed up onto the beach.’ Brady shook his head as he considered the implications.
‘Which means that they wanted her to be found, laddie,’ Wolfe noted.
Brady looked at the body, wondering why she had been gang-raped then murdered. And crucially why her murderers wanted the body found.
‘The head …’ began Brady. ‘Makes identification damned difficult without it or her fingers. Why would someone go to those lengths to make sure she can’t be identified and then want her body found?’
‘
He nodded at Brady’s puzzled expression.
‘Latin for,’ he paused for effect, ‘the dead teach the living.’
Brady checked his watch. It was nearly 12pm. He was running late.
He had someone to see connected to Simone’s attack. Whether he would glean anything was another matter, but he felt compelled to follow it through. But first, he needed to get a hold of Amelia back at the station. He needed her to do him a favour. Whether she would was questionable, but he had no option but to ask.
‘As fast as you can, Conrad,’ instructed Brady.
He was on edge at the thought of what lay ahead of him. And the prospect of walking back into the station wearing the brunt of Frank Henderson’s fists wasn’t helping.
Conrad simply nodded as he reversed his new dark silver sports Saab Phoenix out of the hospital parking space, all too aware that Brady was holding a take-out black coffee from the hospital cafeteria. He didn’t want coffee spilt all over the new interior, or his highly-strung boss.
Brady took a slug of lukewarm, weak black coffee. He forced it down, despite its bitter, burnt taste.
‘Would you believe this is worse than the station cafeteria’s coffee?’
‘I did warn you, sir. Which was the reason I didn’t want one,’ replied Conrad as he slowly pulled his car out of the hospital grounds.
The muscles in Conrad’s jaw were knotted as he concentrated on the busy traffic ahead. That and the call he had received while he had waited in the car when Brady had gone off to get some coffee.
‘Christ, Conrad …’ muttered Brady as he shook his head.
‘Sir?’
‘What do we have? An unidentified, decapitated victim whose head is still missing, aged between sixteen and eighteen, savagely gang-raped, then murdered and dumped in the sea with the intention of her body washing up on the shores of Whitley Bay beach,’ Brady said, sighing. ‘And then there’s the markings burnt onto her body which suggest …’ he faltered.
‘Sex trafficking, sir?’ suggested Conrad.
Brady turned and looked at him, mildly surprised.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Just that the letters “MD” and the scorpion seem like an ownership mark, sir.’
Brady wearily nodded. ‘And that’s exactly what’s worrying me, Conrad. You tell me what sex traffickers would be doing in Whitley Bay of all places?’
‘I don’t know, sir,’ answered Conrad, as much at a loss as his boss.
‘That’s the problem, Conrad, neither do I,’ replied Brady. ‘In all the years I’ve been stationed at Whitley Bay I’ve never come across a crime of this nature. I really hope we’re wrong.’
From the tense expression on Conrad’s face he obviously felt the same way.
Brady took another mouthful of the bitter coffee. He was still waiting for Claudia to get back to him regarding the markings found on the victim. He knew better than to chase her up. He had no choice but to wait for her call. If the victim was a sex slave, then Claudia was right – she wouldn’t be the only one.
‘I’ve heard that Adamson’s out to cause trouble for us,’ Conrad began tentatively.
‘Don’t you mean he’s out to cause trouble for me? Nothing new there then, Conrad.’
Conrad shook his head. This was serious and he needed his boss to know just how serious.
‘Frank Henderson has made an official complaint about you, sir. And Adamson is demanding to know why we were in the ICU. That, and why Simone Henderson’s flatmate claimed she was coming up to the North East to see you in connection with an old case you both worked on.’
Brady felt his stomach knot. What exactly had Simone got involved in, and why had she brought his name into it?
‘Adamson can go fuck himself,’ muttered Brady darkly.
‘Rest assured, one day it will happen, sir,’ replied Conrad dryly.
Brady turned and looked at Conrad, surprised by the hardness in his voice. Conrad never had a bad word to say about anyone, especially a colleague. But Adamson was a different case entirely. Conrad had spent his first two years of training at Headquarters in Ponteland with Adamson and so knew him of old. After they’d both passed, Conrad swore never to work with the man again. Brady had never asked Conrad exactly what Adamson had done to elicit such an uncharacteristic reaction from his deputy and Conrad had never volunteered one.
Conrad was the kind of guy you wanted around. He was level-headed, reliable with an unerring sense of fairness. Add to that his unquestionable sense of loyalty where Brady was concerned, and the fact that he knew when to keep his mouth shut, and he was invaluable. Without Conrad by his side, Brady didn’t know what he would do. Ironic given how much flak he gave DCI Gates when he had first assigned Conrad to him, never mind the hard time he’d given Conrad for being the poor, unfortunate sod appointed as his sidekick.
Brady took another slug of the unpalatable black coffee as he thought about what Conrad had just said. He’d heard rumours about Adamson. Ones that didn’t rest easy with him.
‘You know you could press charges against Frank Henderson, sir? After all, he did assault you,’ Conrad pointed out. ‘And it might counteract the complaint he’s made against you.’
Brady looked out the passenger window and shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to press charges when he felt that the punches were deserved. He just had to make sure he kept out of Adamson’s way.
He caught a glance of his reflection in the wing mirror. He face was a mess, which explained why he hurt like hell. The cut above his swollen eye looked nasty and his ribs still burnt every time he breathed. But he didn’t have the time or inclination to get himself checked over. There was still too much work to do; and part of that involved Simone’s attack.
He rummaged in his jacket pocket for some painkillers. Finding some, he popped a couple in his mouth and washed them down with a swig of coffee. He grimaced at the bitter aftertaste.
‘Any updates while you were waiting for me?’ he asked abruptly.
‘We’ve got a local teenage girl whose parents have just rung the station to file a missing persons report.’
‘How long’s she been missing?’ Brady questioned as he turned to Conrad.
‘That’s all I know, sir,’ answered Conrad. ‘Harvey and Kodovesky are dealing with it though.’
Brady nodded. Given the number of teenagers who disappeared for a couple of days after an argument with their parents, it wasn’t worth getting excited about. Most would eventually return home. But unfortunately there were always the few cases where the missing teenager never resurfaced, swallowed up in one of the large cities by prostitution, or worse.
Brady leaned his head back against the headrest and wearily massaged his forehead.
‘Problem, sir?’ queried Conrad.
‘I’m not sure,’ answered Brady honestly.
Conrad looked over at him. It was clear from his dark, pensive expression that his boss had no intention of sharing whatever it was that was bothering him.
Brady’s silence troubled Conrad. He hadn’t spoken about whether he had actually seen Simone Henderson in the ICU. But Conrad knew better than to ask.
Conrad parked up outside the station. Brady got out the car without waiting for him. He took out his BlackBerry as he walked towards the station and scrolled down his list of contacts until he came to Amelia Jenkins.
