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She clicks. The photos load. A derelict wasteland at night. A cobalt bridge, the deep water flowing, black as ink underneath. She’s seen news reports for murders before, and each time she’s searched the black and white text. She’s always found nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary—for a murder.
But this one—
Something pulls. A flash of recognition. A fire of synapses that instinctively makes her stomach clench, a fist grabbing her from within.
She squints at the photo, trying to work out what has caught her eye in the tiny pixels. Nothing. She reads the text again. The man in charge, the senior investigating officer, DCI Adam Bishop. She assumes that’s what’s got her attention and gives a rueful smile, but it feels strained.
The toast pops, and she puts her phone down. She picks up the knife, the butter. The jam. Doing normal things, but the feeling remains. Ice in her bones. A sense of dread. Of fear.
She stops. Still.
Something feels different. Something deep, entrenched all these years.
It can’t be possible, but intuition runs true.
He’s back.
CHAPTER
9
THE SECOND IDENTIFIED body: number fourteen. The woman found wrapped in the blanket. Her next of kin is her mother and her sister; the tears were plentiful. Louise Edwards had been missing for three months, and looking at the case file in front of him, Adam can see the boyfriend was a prime suspect. But no evidence had been found against him, no charges brought.
“He was no good for her,” the mother had declared through her tears. A visit at the end of the day, Adam choosing to go alone. “It was his fault, she … she …” She’d dissolved into sobs. The sister had showed Adam to the door, after.
“Don’t believe the rumors about her,” she’d said. “She was a good person. She deserves justice.” As if Adam would have stopped looking if the reverse were true.
He considers the boyfriend now, sitting back at his desk in his office. The rest of the incident room is deserted, the majority of detectives having left for the evening. He reads the interview transcript from the man: “boyfriend” was stretching the truth. Reading between the lines, he was a casual liaison at best. An encounter that resulted in a baby, one now lost to social services. Unfit mother, the notes said, but to Adam she sounded like a woman who needed help. Alcohol, drugs, unsuitable men. A sad story.
Louise had lived alone: ground floor flat. Notes from the detective in charge indicated he thought she’d been abducted from there; Louise had been lax about safety, and the back door was found unlocked when the PCs went around.
Ellie Quinn pokes her head into his office.
“Boss? PNC summary for victim thirteen,” she says. “I’ve emailed it across to you.”
Ian Rhodes, the latest ID—and the death notice given far away by a different constabulary, something Adam was thankful for.
“Anything significant?” he asks.
“Multiple cautions for curb crawling.”
“Had he now?” Adam replies, then looks up from the file. “How’s your first day been, Ellie?”
“Good, Boss. I mean, this is why I wanted to join your team. I heard …” She stops.
“Heard what?” he asks with a grin.
Her face flushes. “That this was where the magic happened.”
“The magic?”
“You know. The confessions out of nowhere. The unlikely strand of evidence that solves the case. The magic.”
“It’s just hard work, Quinn. And good detectives.” She’s still staring at him, eyes full of adulation. “Thank you for the report,” he says with finality. “See you tomorrow.”
She blushes again, then nods and leaves. Adam wonders if they’ve made a mistake recruiting her, with her incredulous wonder and reverence. There’s no magic here, especially not at the beginning of a murder investigation. Working late, overdue showers. Dinner from a vending machine. On that subject, he picks up the pastry in front of him and opens the plastic. He takes a bite and frowns.
“Not up to your usual standard of culinary delights, Bishop?”
