DS Jessica Daniel series: Think of the Children / Playing with Fire / Thicker Than Water – Books 4–6 (43 page)

Andrew stood still, frustrated with his own carelessness. He didn’t have a brief to follow Sienna wherever she went but something about the way she had left her friends and moved away from
the path didn’t seem right.

He walked along the length of the gates and then followed the wall they intersected with. The corners were dark and disorientating and Andrew took out his mobile phone, using the screen as a
light. He had no idea what he might be looking for but continued to trace his way around the yard.

As he neared the corner closest to the alley’s entrance, Andrew could see a pile of wooden pallets. He flashed the light across them before realising they were arranged in a U-shape,
meaning there would be a gap in the middle. The investigator walked steadily around the objects, being careful not to trip over any of the scattered pieces of wood.

As his foot squelched and skidded slightly, Andrew felt his heart jump. He shone the light of his phone towards his feet where deep, dark liquid was pooled around his black leather shoes. Time
seemed to slow as Andrew lifted his phone upwards, following the trail of liquid to Sienna, who was sitting on the floor, bent over and slumped against one of the pallets. The hems of her tracksuit
bottoms were stained with the same liquid as his shoe and, as Andrew scanned the light across her, he could see the slash marks diagonally across her wrists and a pair of scissors splayed on the
floor.

Jessica was halfway back to Salford after finishing for the day when the call came through on her mobile to say an eighteen-year-old woman had been found with her wrists
slashed. She didn’t necessarily have to return to deal with things – especially after being called to Martin Chadwick’s house in the early hours of the morning – but, for a
reason Jessica didn’t want to think too deeply about, she wasn’t that desperate to get back to Adam’s house.

Adam’s house.

Jessica pulled her car over to the side of the road and sent a text message to tell Adam she was going to be late, and then turned the vehicle around, heading back the way she had come.

If she hadn’t left work, it would have barely been a five-minute journey from Longsight Police Station to the entertainment complex on Hyde Road. Having reached the city centre before
turning around, it took her closer to forty-five. By the time Jessica arrived, three police vans and two ambulances were parked in front of an electrical store. Two uniformed officers were blocking
the entrance to a narrow alley which separated two shops. One of the officers recognised her, offering a ‘didn’t you go home for the day?’ look which Jessica ignored.

‘Are they out back?’ Jessica asked.

The officer nodded towards the alleyway. ‘There’s a service yard back there and a separate road where delivery lorries come down. Scene of Crime are already here.’

‘What’s it like?’

The officer didn’t answer but the sideways glance he gave his colleague told Jessica all she needed to know: it was messy.

Jessica edged into the alley, following it until the end where another officer was waiting. At first he stuck out an arm to block her path but then he recognised her. ‘I thought
you’d gone?’ he said.

‘Me too.’

Three pylons had been set up in a triangle, each with a bright white light on the top angled to illuminate an area surrounded by wooden pallets. A white screen had also been erected and Jessica
watched a figure in a white paper suit lift a flap and enter the shielded area.

As she walked towards it, Jessica could see Cole’s familiar shape speaking into his mobile phone. While he talked, he raised his free hand to acknowledge her presence and then pointed to
the phone, rolling his eyes. After a few moments, he removed it from his ear, pressing a button before pocketing it. ‘The wife’s not happy,’ he said with a weary half-smile.
‘We were supposed to be going out for a meal tonight.’

‘I was supposed to be sitting in with a microwave lasagne watching TV,’ Jessica replied with a smile.

Although they hadn’t been getting on, she couldn’t stop herself from trying to get a laugh.

Cole’s smile widened but he didn’t crack. ‘I told them not to call you but apparently you’d left instructions that you were available all night . . .’

Jessica ignored his part-question, part-fish-for-information. ‘What’s going on?’

The chief inspector nodded behind her towards a man who was talking to a uniformed officer close to one of the pylons. ‘He called 999, saying he’d found the body of a teenage girl.
Her wrists have been slit but quite high up and it looks like an artery was hit rather than the vein. There’s blood everywhere. You can go have a look if you want but there’s not much
to see if you’re not a haemo . . . what’s the name for that blood weirdo we picked up the other month?’

Jessica pulled a face to show she was happy to stay where she was. ‘A haemogoblin. You shouldn’t know what something like that is. Anyway, who’s the girl?’ She saw the
DCI’s face harden. ‘What?’ she added.

The chief inspector nodded at the man again. ‘He knows her – he says her name is Sienna Todd.’

Jessica knew immediately that things weren’t straightforward. ‘What am I missing? What’s her body doing back here?’ she asked, not knowing the best question to go
for.

She saw Cole’s eyes narrow slightly. ‘You’re better talking to him directly,’ he said. ‘You won’t like it – I’m not sure I do.’

Confused, Jessica turned and walked towards the man. The uniformed officer was in the process of pocketing a notebook and then stepped backwards, giving her a nod of acknowledgement. Jessica
turned her attention to the man. He was somewhere around her age, not a lot taller, with a slightly overweight physique. He didn’t seem to have a large stomach but his white shirt was a
little too small for him, giving the impression that he had breasts. Even though it wasn’t a particularly warm evening, Jessica could see beads of sweat on his forehead, illuminated in the
glow from the white lights.

Jessica had often thought Cole had relatively plain features but, as he aged, his looks had become more distinctive, the worry lines and crinkles around his eyes giving him more of a
personality. His plainness was nothing compared to that of the man in front of her. He had a face that was instantly forgettable and, although Jessica had dealt with hundreds of situations where
she had been frustrated by witnesses’ lack of attention to detail, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to describe his features – even while she was staring straight at
him.

‘I’m told you found the body?’ Jessica asked tentatively, remembering Cole’s suggestion that she might not like what the man would say.

‘Yes, are you . . . ?’ The man was staring past her towards the stack of pallets.

Jessica introduced herself and then asked for the man’s name.

‘I’m Andrew Hunter,’ he replied. ‘I’m an, er . . . private investigator.’

She knew why Cole had been hesitant and felt herself rolling her eyes without thinking.

‘Is she something to do with you?’ Jessica asked, knowing the man could be a suspect if there was anything suspicious about the young woman’s death.

Andrew stuttered his way through a reply. ‘I was following her. I lost sight for maybe five minutes – ten minutes at most – before I found her like . . . this.’

‘Why were you trailing her?’

Andrew explained that Sienna’s father had paid him to find out who had impregnated his daughter. Cole was exactly right in his assessment – Jessica didn’t like it. She asked if
Andrew had seen anyone else following the young woman but he said he hadn’t.

After double-checking they had his details, Jessica told the man he could go but that she would visit him the following morning. He said he had photographs of a young man who Sienna seemed to be
romantically involved with which she wanted to see.

Jessica walked across to Cole, who raised his eyebrows and smiled. His tired eyes didn’t offer the same sentiment his lips did.

‘Making friends?’ he asked.

Jessica snorted as a response. ‘At least you warned me.’

‘What do you think about his story?’

Jessica stepped closer to her supervisor, partly so she wouldn’t be overheard but also because her hands were beginning to feel cold. She blew onto her skin, before burying her hands deep
into the pockets of the jacket she still hadn’t returned. ‘It sounds about right. I don’t think he would have called us if something else was going on. There are cameras around so
we’ll get the footage. I told him I’ll visit him tomorrow to pick up some of the photographs he has of Sienna.’

Cole nodded. Jessica had always been given a relatively free rein to do what she wanted for a case. It had brought results in the past and she played on that. If the chief inspector had any
objections then he didn’t raise them.

‘Is it definitely a suicide?’ Jessica asked.

Cole tilted his head to one side and bit his lip. ‘It looks like it. I only saw it briefly but one of the crime scene guys says there are cuts diagonally across her wrists, rather than up
and down or side to side. He seemed to know his stuff.’

Jessica nodded. ‘I had a witness a couple of years back who self-harmed. She said there are all sorts of websites out there with the information. She told me about how different blades
offered varying amounts of pain and relief. She knew more about arteries, veins and blood than I ever will. Maybe it was just her – but the impression I got was that self-harmers generally
know what they’re doing and only go this far if they want to.’

Cole stared beyond her into the darkness. ‘Why would you do it?’

Jessica didn’t know if he was talking about self-harming or the apparent suicide. She knew he had younger children and wondered if he was associating them with Sienna.

She rested a hand on his shoulder, the most contact they had had in months. ‘Some people cut themselves because the physical pain helps with whatever it is they’re dealing with
emotionally. But she would probably know the difference between veins and arteries if she was a regular self-harmer. If you cut a vein, you wouldn’t bleed to death that quickly, which would
make this a deliberate thing. If this was the first time she had tried something, she might have cut herself in the wrong place. The post mortem should give us a few answers.’ Jessica paused
for a moment. ‘I take it there’s a knife or something?’

‘We found some small, curved nail scissors near her feet.’

A shiver went through Jessica. She knew the kind of blades he was talking about because Adam had a pair in the bathroom cabinet. For whatever reason, that made things seem more real.

‘Has someone gone to tell her family?’ she asked.

Cole sighed. ‘That’s sorted. I’m going to head home as soon as the body has been moved. You may as well head off too.’ Jessica knew there wasn’t much more they
could do. By the morning, they would have a reasonable idea of whether it was suicide. ‘What about Chadwick and Thompson?’ the chief inspector added.

Jessica had briefed Reynolds about her morning’s work. She wondered if Cole had read the notes and wanted clarification, or if he was trying to rebuild bridges with her after months with
very little interaction. As long as she didn’t have to apologise, she didn’t mind either way.

‘I’m hoping it will be a quiet night,’ Jessica replied. ‘There’s tension on both sides. I don’t know if it was Anthony with the brick and graffiti but he
knows we’re keeping an eye out now. Hopefully it will all blow over with a quiet week or two.’

Cole started laughing quietly to himself. It was not only out of character but Jessica thought it was also slightly inappropriate. ‘What’s up?’ she asked.

‘Sorry, I’m just tired,’ he replied. ‘It’s not all of this. Sometimes I wonder what things would be like if these cases happened a few miles out of our way. How
much different would our lives be? Imagine if Martin Chadwick lived in Prestwich or Stretford or something like that. We probably wouldn’t even know his name.’

Jessica didn’t know why he had brought it up but it was something that crept into her mind some evenings when she was struggling to sleep. With all the things she had dealt with over the
past few years, she wondered how much different her life might have been if she had either worked in a district that didn’t serve the centre of Manchester – or if the respective
criminals had operated in the areas covered by the north, south, east or west CID divisions instead of her metropolitan one. She had never heard her supervisor bring it up and wondered why he
had.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

Cole paused for a moment before replying. ‘I’m just wondering how my wife’s going to react when I get in. Things haven’t been . . . great recently.’

Jessica didn’t want to dwell too much on her own relationship. Sometimes she thought it was Manchester itself that seemed to drain everyone. The grey skies, the endless rain, the winters
that went on and on. If you judged a place by its weather then this really was the end of the earth.

Not convinced by her own words, she said: ‘I’m sure things will be all right.’

The chief inspector nodded, although his smile told her that he knew her words were just that. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said.

Jessica put a hand on his shoulder, turning and walking towards the alleyway that led back to the car park. She could see her breath in front of her and snuggled her hands deep into the
jacket’s pockets in an effort to keep them warm. At the far end of the cut-through was a police van. Its siren was off but the lights were spinning around, casting blue shadows that stretched
the full length of the alley.

As she reached the far end, Jessica tapped one of the uniformed officers on the side and offered him a thin smile as he stepped away. He started to say something but Jessica heard another voice
speaking over him before he could get the words out.

Sebastian Lowe was standing next to a pillar adjacent to the electrical store. He looked as perfectly turned-out as he had hours before and Jessica had half a mind to ask what his secret was.
That was until he thrust the recording device out towards her as he strode forward. ‘Detective Sergeant Daniel,’ he said, trying to get her attention. She wasn’t sure if the
emphasis he put on her title was politeness or sarcasm because of the way she had demanded it the previous time they met.