Carlton was convinced it was related, that Brookes had been specifically targeted because of her pregnancy, but that theory was far from being corroborated. He and Alice had discussed this specific issue and agreed to remain open-minded about it. Perhaps their killer was taunting them – perhaps his MO was placing an inconsequential clue among other more relevant ones. Perhaps he’d just found it in their home and used it on the spur of the moment. Whatever the bastard’s reasoning, it had been a chilling addition to an already horrific scene.
With the Smedley case still not moving forward, Gus had taken to exercising more often – searching his mind for something he’d missed – something that might help push things forward a little. When he’d exhausted his own case, he turned his mind to the Miranda Brookes murder. Although not officially on the team, Gus had memorised the crime board and each time he jogged, he ran until he’d been over every square inch of it in his mind, desperately seeking that elusive clue that would send them on the right track. A week later and every single lead seemed to point to a dead end. The nail polish was a Max Factor make, which wasn’t present in the victim’s home. This of course threw up two options. One, the killer had selected it from Miranda’s collection of nail polish and taken it with him when he left the scene, or two, he’d brought it, used it on Miranda, and taken it away with him again. Carlton favoured the second option – but again, with no corroboration they were stumped.
Miranda’s husband had been distraught, but had been investigated and, as a long haul driver for Morrison’s supermarket and pulling overnight shifts, he was alibied. Not that Gus thought for a moment that he was guilty. The poor man had lost his wife and unborn child in one fell swoop and he’d gone under with the weight of it all – sedated and living at his parent’s home, he was in bits.
The biscuit, as Carlton had suggested, had been bitten into by Miranda, leaving that another dead end. At Carlton’s instigation, Compo was today extending his search from crimes bearing similar MOs beyond the five years Gus had initially suggested. Sebastian was keeping his own counsel, yet Gus suspected when he had suggested widening the parameters, that the psychologist had a reason he wasn’t sharing. That irked.
Gus was all about the team, yet Carlton, although able to be a team player, was also prone to worrying at a conundrum himself rather than asking the team for assistance. Alice, as promised, was happy to let him have access to the investigation and even listened to his comments and observations, but neither of them was comfortable. They were both very aware that something else had to break in order for them to progress the investigation. The trouble was, they were both equally aware that the break, when it came, would more than likely be another dead woman – possibly a pregnant one.
Pounding the concrete round the boating lake, Gus considered doing one final lap of the park before heading up to The Fort. In his current mood, he was likely to snap at someone if he didn’t work off the building tension that had him fraught. He’d already had a go at Alice for eating the last of the bread – which was unreasonable considering it was always Al that bought it in the first place. Yes, he needed to really rein in his grumpiness and he veered off the path, increased his pace up the hill towards Cartwright Hall, enjoying the pull of his muscles as he headed up to work.
****
Showered and in a marginally better mood, Gus was diverted as he walked down the corridor to the incident room.
‘Boss.’
He turned and saw Compo’s head poking out of one of the smaller rooms they used for meetings. Despite the heat, Compo’s usual beanie hat was on his head and he’d clearly been outside for at least some of the weekend because while the rest of his face was tanned, the area around his eyes was white, giving him the look of a startled Panda. The lad beckoned Gus with a hand wave, and intrigued, Gus stepped towards him, as Compo, smiling widely, announced. ‘We’ve got visitors.’
Gus froze. Normally visitors meant his mum with a burnt offering of some description to torture the team – well, the team – except Compo, whose belly of steel revelled in each and every one of his mother’s offerings. As he was still absorbing his mum’s revelations from the other night, Gus could do without seeing her again so soon. Especially if she was accompanied by his dad, whom he wanted to quiz in private about his mum’s wellbeing.
Besides, he still wasn’t completely happy with them not confiding in him about the pictures they’d been sent. He’d let his mum know that and had seen the way she’d avoided meeting his gaze. She was keeping something else from him and whatever it was, Gus suspected it was worse than the confidences she’d shared over hot chocolate. That was a basic McGuire strategy – give a little, hide a lot. Gus hadn’t quite worked out what tack to take with them. He’d reached out to Katie to see if she was any the wiser, but with her final batch of chemo to go through he was reluctant to worry his sister and his gentle probing had resulted
