Copyright © 2021 Tony Forder
The right of Tony Forder to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2021 by Spare Nib Books
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Also by Tony J Forder
The DI Bliss Series
Bad to the Bone
The Scent of Guilt
If Fear Wins
The Reach of Shadows
The Death of Justice
Endless Silent Scream
Slow Slicing
Bliss Uncovered
Standalones
Fifteen Coffins
Degrees of Darkness
The Mike Lynch Series
Scream Blue Murder
Cold Winter Sun
For my family.
To those whose presence continues to bring joy into my life.
And to those no longer with us.
Because family is everything.
One
I’m going to die!
As he crouched over the lifeless body so cruelly exposed by the naked glare of a single LED floodlight, Jimmy Bliss saw the young woman’s final thoughts reflected in her sightless eyes.
I’m going to die. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it happening.
He knew then that she had stared into the cold, dark heart of her assailant. That in a moment of awful clarity, she had realised what was about to happen to her. If the jagged fingernails and bracelets of discoloured flesh around both wrists were anything to go by, this slender woman who looked to be barely more than a child had fought hard to fend off her attacker.
To no avail.
At the end, she had most likely accepted the horrific inevitability of her fate. Where passion and anger had once burned, now sorrow and fear formed a misty glaze over both corneas. Bliss felt sick to his stomach knowing that the last person those eyes had rested upon intended to end her life.
His preliminary analysis over with, he stood upright and arched his back until he felt it pop. He took out a mobile phone from the inside breast pocket of his black leather jacket. Snapping photographs at a murder scene had become a source of controversy between the police and the public, but Bliss did it anyway. An establishing shot from each end of the tent. Then from both sides. Followed by two close-ups of the victim’s face.
When he was done, he tucked the phone away again before stepping back outside the white tent fringed with a narrow hem of blue. A thin layer of frost lay on the ground, compacting in the rapidly decreasing temperature. Tendrils of mist coiled and danced in the frigid air, masking the illumination provided by dozens of additional floodlights surrounding the tent and the sealed-off crime scene. A single tree, growing well away from its closest neighbours, loomed over the forensic tent as if desperate to possess its contents.
Bliss made a beeline for the crime scene manager, Magda Nowicki, who was waiting close by for him to finish his own inspection. ‘Thanks for allowing me a quick shufty without having to get suited up,’ he said. ‘It seemed like a waste of time for no more than a few minutes.’
‘No problem,’ Nowicki said. ‘We got everything we needed beforehand, so there’s no issue with cross-contamination. You’re done with her?’
‘I am.’
‘Good. The body snatchers are here and I still have to bag and tag her.’
Bliss thanked her again, then went to find Detective Inspector Kennedy, the somewhat brusque detective he’d spoken with upon arrival.
He was still walking towards him when the man said, ‘You recognise our victim?’
Bliss frowned. Little more than an hour earlier, he’d received a phone call from Kennedy, who worked out of Cambridge police station, close to the centre of the university city. He’d requested Bliss’s assistance on a new murder investigation, but had insisted on providing a full explanation of the circumstances only when Bliss arrived at the crime scene. It had taken him a little over forty minutes to drive from his home in Peterborough to the Hinton chalk pits on the south-east outskirts of Cambridge. There he was met by the DI and a younger man who hovered close by but made no effort to introduce himself.
Bliss had no need of a second look in order to answer the question, but his senses had been on high alert since arriving at the pits. He was wary of the two men who looked to have taken charge. They made for an uneven pair; Mr Cagey stood tall and solid, while Kennedy was short and doughy. The older man, overweight and losing the battle to keep his hair, the younger trying a little too hard when it came to his appearance. The only thing they seemed to have in common was their fixation on Bliss, having watched him like a couple of hawks from the moment he’d stepped out of his car.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know her. I may have seen her somewhere before. Perhaps we’ve even met. But she’s not familiar to me.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ the reticent one asked.
Ignoring him, Bliss instead turned to DI Kennedy. ‘What made you think I would recognise this girl? Why didn’t you just text me her photo? Or did you drag me all the way over here just to see my reaction when I laid eyes on her for the first time?’
‘You always this edgy, Bliss?’ the younger man said before Kennedy had a chance to respond. He carried his weight well on a large frame, but Bliss guessed he had little more going for him than his physique. The look on his face suggested he had assumed command of the discussion, and that did not sit well.
Bliss barely looked at the man when he spoke next. ‘Until you do me the courtesy of giving me your rank
