Jack nodded, impressed. A lot of uniform supervisors he knew would have only told their troops to put one pair on, not realising that moisture produced by the hands has a tendency to seep through the thin rubber after only a few minutes.
“Is it likely that she was murdered elsewhere and then dumped here?” Dillon asked.
“I don’t think so. The blood patterns, and the sheer amount of it, make that unlikely in my opinion, but the forensic guys will have to confirm or disprove that in due course.” Speed was slightly uncomfortable answering these rapid-fire questions. He felt like he was being put on the spot. Now he appreciated why Mack had been so reluctant to commit to a time of death earlier on.
Some arc lighting had been rigged up near the body to illuminate the scene for the forensic team. They were waiting patiently to begin a detailed search of the area in which the dead girl lay. They had been ordered not to start until Tyler had been able to conduct his own examination of the girl. After that, her head and hands would be bagged and the corpse would be protectively wrapped to preserve evidence, and then she would be removed to the local mortuary. The body would then be tagged and put in cold storage to await a special post-mortem the following morning.
As Jack looked down at the lifeless figure in front of him, he felt himself filling with anger. He absently wondered if his face reflected the shock that he felt inside. The injuries were utterly horrific. He studied her poor face. The skin looked waxy, almost translucent. The blue eyes had already lost their liquid and were flattening out. There was a look of pain and confusion on her once pretty features.
He wondered what she had felt, what she had thought, in her last moments. Had she known her killer? Had she been so drugged up and spaced out that she hadn’t been aware of anything?
Tyler tried hard to concentrate on the scene, to take in every detail to be dissected later. He could almost sense the killer’s presence here, like an unpleasant aura, a lingering residue from the earlier violence and mutilation.
Jack wished that he and Dillon could be left alone to absorb everything that the crime scene had to offer without interference or distraction. He needed to develop a feeling for what had happened here in the early hours of the morning, and that meant spending a few minutes alone with the corpse, just listening to what it had to tell him.
Knowing it couldn’t be, Jack forced himself to ignore everyone else and take a closer look at her. After a moment or two, his eyes found themselves drawn to the marks on her jaw. Although not particularly obvious at first glance, due to the mask of blood that caked a large portion of her lower face, there was definitely something of interest there.
“What do you make of those blotches on the side of her jawline, Dill?” he asked his partner, eager for a second opinion.
Dillon reluctantly moved nearer. He hated getting too close to dead bodies. It wasn’t so much the sight that bothered him. It was the smell. Death, he had learned a long time ago, had a particularly unpleasant smell all of its own. The whiff that drifted up from the poor girl’s exposed innards, as he leaned over her, reminded him of the smell from his local butcher’s shop.
The white mask he wore performed a dual purpose: first, it prevented the inhalation of airborne viruses. Dried blood containing Hepatitis or Tuberculosis could be reactivated if it came into contact with the wet mucous membranes in the nose. Second, it prevented him from accidentally leaving his DNA at the scene via a cough or sneeze. As useful as it was, though, the mask did nothing to lessen the reek of Tracey’s innards.
“I don’t know, Jack. Bruising, maybe?” he offered with a shrug.
“Yeah, that’s what I think.” He turned to face Inspector Speed. “Who’s the Crime Scene Manager?” There was a trace of urgency in Tyler’s voice as he asked the question.
“Um, CSM Calvin, sir,” Speed informed him, quickly plucking the name from memory.
“Sam Calvin? Excellent! Get him for me, would you.”
“Of course,” Speed replied, quickly looking around the site for his quarry.
“What are you up to?” Dillon asked after Speed had left them alone.
“You’ll see in a minute, but I wouldn’t get too excited. It might just turn out to be nothing.”
Sam Calvin materialised at their side a few moments later, a clipboard in one hand and an empty exhibits-bag in the other. His sombre expression betrayed his annoyance at being dragged away from a half-completed index of exhibits. His face relaxed as he recognised Tyler, and his expression changing to one of curiosity.
“Hello, Jack. What are you doing here? I thought you were with the anti-terrorist mob.”
Tyler smiled, raised his hands and gave a carefree shrug as if to say: ‘Nobody ever tells me anything, either’.
“I got myself promoted to DI a few years back. The Commander thought it would be good for my career to have a change. He was right, of course. Being a DI on the Branch wouldn’t be anywhere near as much fun as being a DS was. More admin and less action, you see. So, I moved over to AMIP and I’ve been there ever since.”
“I see,” Calvin frowned. “So, what can I do for you? I’m a little tied up right now.” He raised the clipboard and empty bag to illustrate his point.
“I’m sure you are, Sam. Tell me, have you examined the body yet?”
“I’ve had a brief look, why?” Calvin answered, a frown creasing his large forehead.
“Have you seen the bruises on her lower jawline?” Tyler asked.
“Yes, I did. I’ve got a pathologist on standby, but I didn’t want to let my chaps disturb anything until you guys have had a proper look. What’re you thinking
