Cold as Ice (21 page)

Carter stopped in his tracks. ‘Christ.’

Ebony took a step to his side and crouched beside her.

‘It’s the same as last time.’

‘Yes,’ said Harding.

‘What happened to the bag?’ Ebony was looking at the plastic shards scattered in the snow.

‘A badger, fox or even someone’s pet dog has been at it,’ answered Harding. ‘Maybe they were disturbed.’

Carter drew level. ‘What about her eyes?’ he asked.

Harding looked up at the pine trees around them. The crows watched them. The air hung dank and dark, trapped in the shadows of the trees. The crows shifted in the upper branches of the pines as
they waited, ever hopeful of finishing their meal.

‘Crows have large beaks for tearing flesh. The birds have had a go at her face. Soft entry points like the eyes were the best option; the rest of her is frozen.

Ebony watched Harding brush the last of the snow away from the body and onto a plastic sheet she had tucked in around it. She looked down at the ulcerated sites across the body. ‘She is
just like Emily Styles but a lot thinner, a lot more emaciated.’

Harding paused in her work and sighed; her white breath stayed as a shroud in the air. She shook her head. ‘It’s hard to know how she made it to even this point. She has been like
this for a
long
time.’

‘She looks like a sick joke,’ said Ebony. She looked at the remnants of blue eye-shadow and the few spikes of painted-on lashes visible above the empty eye sockets, the clownish
circles of red stain on her cheeks.

‘He must really hate women, all women – vanity, masks of make-up.’

‘Absolutely,’ said Carter. ‘He’s saying – do you still find her pretty? Folded the skin from her breasts like a bra top, exposed the flesh beneath to say: look at
the woman beneath. We can rule out this being Danielle Foster,’ said Carter. ‘This woman’s skeletal, she must have been kept somewhere a long time to get like this.’ There
was silence except for the slip and splash of snow from the branches. ‘How did she die, Doctor?’

Harding moved the woman’s head to one side as she examined her neck.

‘There are signs of damage here. I can’t rule out strangulation or asphyxiation. But with her being in such a poor state, any massive trauma could have been her last. I think she
would have died quite fast after he began skinning her.’

‘She was alive when he did that?’

Harding nodded. ‘She wouldn’t have bled like that otherwise . . . she must have been.’ The remnants of trails of blackened blood were streaked down the woman’s body.

Carter looked around him, fighting back the nausea. He needed to breathe in the scent of the pines, the cold from the damp air.

‘Did she die here?’

‘No,’ said Harding. ‘She was definitely moved and placed here. Suspended from the wrists while he mutilated her. The blood has flowed in even paths down over her
torso.’

‘Where’s the nearest car park?’ Carter asked, swallowing the taste of bile that filled his mouth.

‘About five hundred metres away,’ answered Sandford. ‘Down by the Lido.’

‘I suppose someone could carry her this far but would have to be fairly fit to get her up this hill.’ Carter looked at Sandford. ‘How else would you get her up here – by
car?’

‘You can’t drive a vehicle up here unless you are one of the maintenance gardeners,’ replied Sandford.

‘I’ll see if there’s anyone on their staff list who has history, any padlocks broken or interfered with,’ said Ebony, taking out her radio. ‘And I’ll ask if
there’s any CCTV footage we can find in any of the car parks around this side of the park.’

Carter looked around him.

‘He must have gone to a lot of trouble to put her on the Heath. He chose to place her here. He didn’t even try and cover her up.’

‘The snow did it for him,’ said Sandford.

‘But she was always going to be found. It’s too public. Just to stall us then maybe?’

They were interrupted by the approach of a familiar figure climbing the steep bank up towards the copse. Robbo was sweating despite the cold.

‘Any idea who she is?’ asked Carter.

Robbo was taking his time to study the victim. He needed time to see beyond the horror.

‘I have several people on my list I think it could be,’ answered Robbo. ‘I need some DNA confirmation first. Any operation scars?’

Harding ran her gloved hands down the woman’s limbs. ‘I’d say she’d had a few broken bones in her time.’

‘He’s left us a lot more clues this time,’ said Carter.

‘Is there evidence of sexual assault?’ asked Robbo.

‘Yes,’ answered Harding.

‘We might have a chance of getting a specimen of DNA from her then. When can you start the post mortem, Doctor?’

‘We need to wait till she thaws.’

‘How long will that be?’ asked Robbo. He had a million things now that were zapping across his database of a brain. All the photos of all the names on his list.

‘Twenty-four hours at room temperature.’

Sandford unpacked a new body bag and helped Harding wrap the body in its plastic sheet. As they lifted up her left arm a silver charm bracelet slipped to the ground, a silver heart
uppermost.

Tracy looked at her watch; Steve would be heading to work soon from the hotel. She ought to phone him. She prepared herself; a deep breath, a smile on her face.

He answered; she could hear the breakfast news on in the background.

‘Steve? Are you okay?’

He sighed irritably. ‘Is she back yet?’ His tone was sarcastic.

Tracy snapped. ‘It’s serious.’

‘Serious in what way?’ He still didn’t sound convinced.

‘The young woman found in Regent’s Canal was a friend of Danielle’s. The police think that the same man has Danielle. He’s keeping her hostage. It was terrible, Steve.
He’s been phoning me.’

‘It’s probably some prank – the whole thing,’ he countered, not taking in what Tracy had said about the phone call. ‘I knew it would end like this. I told you
she’d be nothing but trouble. So let me guess. We’re stuck with the kid? I’ll tell you where she is. She’s done a runner and left us with her disabled son to look
after.’ His voice rose, almost hysterical. ‘Tell me he’s not staying with us permanently?’

‘I can’t, Steve. I can’t just abandon him. He’s not disabled – he has learning difficulties – special needs that’s all. He’s a lovely little boy
and quite bright.’ Tracy found herself screeching back at him. As hard as she’d tried to stay calm, it hadn’t worked and she was tired of staying calm. ‘For God’s
sake, he’s got no one else, Steve. It’s not his fault.’

‘She must have got friends, relatives of her own? She must have someone who can look after him?’

‘No she hasn’t. She’s got me and I feel like I have to. He’s my grandson – our grandson.’

‘He’s nothing to do with me.’

Tracy closed her eyes. Suddenly she felt exhausted by it all. She wanted to cry. Instead she put a smile back on her face.

‘I know it’s hard, love. I need your support right now. I’m not going to pretend it’s going to be easy but it just has to be done.’ Tracy reached down and began
smoothing Jackson’s hair whilst she talked. He had just come into the kitchen.

‘Who else is there?’ asked Steve irritably.

‘Just Jackson right at this minute. A policewoman will be arriving any time now; she’s called a Family Liaison Officer. She’s here to help us in any way we need. You know, even
with the cost of everything.’

‘Cost?’

‘Well, it will cost money to have Jackson here. Not much. But I’m not working. We will have to depend on your money and I’m not sure where it’s all going to at the
moment. I haven’t seen much of it lately.’

‘Typical – all you really care about: money . . .’

‘Steve . . . please . . . that’s not fair.’

‘What is fair?’ Steve hit back. ‘I haven’t worked hard for years to end up using my cash up on a kid you had when you were fifteen – and her “special”
son.’ Tracy heard the phone go dead. She wanted to cry. She bit her lip instead. She ran her fingers through Jackson’s baby hair. She knew Steve would be sorry by now. She was sure
he’d want to call her back and apologize. She had no support from the one person she should have been able to rely on. She took a deep breath and tutted to herself. She needed to get a grip.
She needed to be the strong one.

Tracy put the phone down and looked down at Jackson. He was staring up at her. She reached for a tissue to wipe his nose, which seemed to be always running. He stood still for three seconds and
then he squirmed away from her.

‘Okay. Okay. That will have to do. Let me look at your new clothes.’ She knelt on the floor beside him. He stood back and pointed to the front of his jumper with its blue train.

‘Thomas,’ he said proudly.

‘Yes. Thomas the Tank Engine. Shall we see if we can find anything on the telly for you to watch?’ Jackson looked deep into Tracy’s eyes, his expression worried. He put his
arms around her neck and she had such a job to stop from crying. Scruffy came running into the kitchen at that moment and began furiously licking Tracy’s face as she cuddled Jackson. Then
Scruffy switched his attention to Jackson and started licking his ears. Jackson hid his head in Tracy’s neck as he giggled. Scruffy went around the other side and began licking any patch of
skin he could see.

‘Scruffy, for God’s sake.’ Tracy pushed him away but he came around the back and put his paws on her shoulders and began licking Jackson’s other ear. Jackson squirmed and
laughed and Tracy fell backwards onto the kitchen floor with Jackson on top of her and Scruffy on top of them both. She laughed. She held on to Jackson who was shrieking with laughter and pulled
Scruffy to sit with them as she hugged them both.

‘Group hug.’

Tracy couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like that. She felt guilty that it was in such awful circumstances.

‘Right!’ She picked herself up from the floor and went to get Jackson’s coat and Scruffy’s lead.

‘We’re sick of staying in. We can’t be prisoners, can we, Jackson, and this mad dog needs a walk, don’t you, Scruffy?’

Tracy took Jackson to the park at the other end of the nearby shops and they tied Scruffy outside the children’s play area whilst Jackson played. At the end of an hour she sat on the swing
with Jackson on her lap. She had almost forgotten what it was like to sit on a swing. The last time she’d sat on one had been when a child was growing inside her. It had been the first time
she’d felt the flutter of feet kicking inside her and she didn’t know what it was. After that her life had catapulted forward and there were no more swings for her. Jackson had gone
quiet, the way he always did on the swings. They soothed him. He sat heavily on Tracy’s lap and she held onto him with one arm. She was thinking how lovely it was when their peace was
disturbed by the sound of Scruffy barking; ‘What’s Scruffy barking at?’ she said aloud. She looked up to see him straining on his lead and snapping at a man who was standing close
to him. Jackson heard it too and went to jump down off Tracy’s lap.

‘Wait, Jackson, wait.’ But Jackson didn’t listen and he slipped from Tracy’s grasp and landed face down on the concrete. He waited four seconds to gather the scream in
his lungs before it erupted and Tracy had to struggle to pull him up from the ground and stand him upright. She looked at the bump above his eyebrow.

‘It’s okay, Jackson. Please . . . please stay still so Nanny can have a look.’ He squirmed from her touch, trying to get away. She couldn’t make him stay still. The whole
park seemed to be screaming. From the corner of her eye she saw the bright flames at the side of the park, just outside the children’s play area, and she realized she actually could hear
people screaming And there was a terrible sound of an animal in agony.

Tracy’s legs started running before she had even made sense of what she was seeing. She shouted towards the nearest mum, ordering her to look after Jackson, and then she ran faster than
she’d run since she was a girl. As she ran she unbuttoned her coat and then she leapt over the gate. Scruffy was a ball of fire; the smell of burning hair and petrol fumes rose around him in
acrid smoke. He was rearing and twisting against the leash to try and get away. Tracy tugged at her coat as it got stuck in the sleeve. She threw it over Scruffy as she pinned him down and
smothered the flames. The flames caught hold of her dress and she felt the heat as she choked in the smoke. She heard a woman shouting at her:

‘You’re on fire!’

Tracy patted at the flames on her dress and she felt a blast of cold water as someone emptied a bottle of water over her. She lay with her arm across Scruffy as the flames disappeared and turned
her face to cough and clear her lungs.

‘Nanny?’ She looked up to see Jackson standing the other side of the fence, the young mum holding him back. His terrified eyes filled with tears.

‘It’s all right, Jackson’ Scruffy had gone quiet and Tracy feared that he was dead beneath her coat. Then she heard him whimper and she had a sudden urge to cry with relief,
but she dreaded lifting her coat to see what he looked like. Tracy made a call to Jeanie and told her what had happened.

‘What about you? Are you okay?’

‘I don’t know what to do about Scruffy. He’s really badly burned.’

‘There’s a police vet service. I’ll call them for you. I’ll see you back at your house. You sure you’re all right, Tracy?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘On second thoughts – stay there. I’ll come and get you.’

The pet ambulance came to pick up Scruffy, who had been whimpering non-stop. He was still wrapped in Tracy’s coat. She was shivering in the cold. Her hand ached. It was only when she
looked at it that she realized it was burnt. Blisters had formed and burst and the peeled skin was weeping.

Tracy looked up to see Jeanie walking across to them. There was still a handful of women but most had left and taken their kids away. The smell and sight of Scruffy on fire was not easily dealt
with.

‘What happened – do you know?’

Tracy shook her head. ‘Jackson and I were on the swing, he fell off my lap and bumped his head and then the next thing everyone was screaming and Scruffy was on fire. Who could have done a
thing like that?’ Jeanie shook her head.