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He waits; finishes his beer. Another man comes into the bar. A big guy, dressed in plain clothes, shirt straining over his belly. The uniform points. He sighs, resigned to his fate. It was too good to be true. Another night ruined.
The man negotiates his way toward him through the crowd. He stops by his side.
“How many have you had?” he asks, pointing to the bottle.
“Not enough. Thought you were on your honeymoon?”
“Flight back was this morning.” The man frowns. “I should’ve kept my phone off. Marsh told me to get you.”
“Couldn’t you have called, Jamie?”
“No reception in here. You know that, Boss.”
He nods slowly. Of course, he knows that. Saturday night, he didn’t want to be disturbed. Off the clock, other detectives on call. Why do they need him?
But a churning in his gut tells him why. Something serious. Something out of the ordinary. He puts the empty bottle on a table and follows his detective sergeant out of the bar.
* * *
“DCI Adam Bishop,” he says, presenting his warrant card to the scene guard. He points to his colleague. “DS Jamie Hoxton.”
Jamie shows his ID, and they’re both waved through the cordon. The night is freezing; Adam pulls his coat tighter around him.
The two men pause, reviewing the scene. Wind blows aggressively across the wasteland; a bridge dominates the distant view, and they stand below it, the blackened river flowing in front of them. It’s a construction site, half-heartedly sealed off with chain metal and wooden boards, a sign at an angle showing a toothy Alsatian. But there’s no security here. Nothing that works.
Adam knows the area well. Identified as a site for redevelopment, until the money ran out and the council discovered that gentrification only works if the rich actually invest. Nobody wants to live here. The view over the water is depressing; the only boats sailing past are container ships spewing diesel. So, the site lies empty, fly-tippers realizing the opportunity, the homeless taking shelter in the rubbish.
They’re handed PPE and suit up in the white overalls and gloves and masks. They walk across, toward floodlights and bustle, foot plates sinking into the mud. He doesn’t need to ask; he knows what they’re there to find. Everything points toward a body.
It’s surrounded by rubbish. An old fridge lies on its side to the left; a mattress, stained and sodden, to the right. Numerous other crap litters the scene—empty paint pots, plastic waste, an old front door. The body lies on its back, remnants of clothing hanging on. There is no indication of gender, nothing left to identify the person they used to be.
The face is half gone, bloody flesh flapping, stark white bone visible. The darkened holes of the eye sockets stare out. Scabbed, dirty, wet. The eyeballs were probably the first to go, easy pickings. The torso is completely eviscerated—Adam can see intestines, ribs, organs. And it looks like it’s moving, a churn of maggots dining on the rotting meat.
“The animals got to it before we did,” Jamie comments. Adam can hear rustling in the rubble. He shines his flashlight out, and multiple pairs of yellow eyes glare back.
He shudders. Fucking rats. “Who called it in?”
“Homeless guy.” Jamie points to a motley-looking crowd standing some distance away. “Said it was stinking the place up and they wanted it gone.”
“Glad they have their priorities in order,” Adam replies dully. “Any news on the pathologist?”
“Still waiting.”
As if on cue, they hear a bustle behind them, and a man arrives. Adam inwardly sighs. Anyone else, please, but not Dr. Greg Ross.
Even in his full crime scene suit, Adam can tell Ross feels the same.
“Have you touched the body, DCI Bishop?” the doctor asks, disapproval dripping from his every word.
“Of course not.” It’s not Adam’s first case, not his first dead body. “When will we know more?”
The reply from the pathologist is curt and quick. “When I’m ready.”
He bites back a retort, then gestures to Jamie. They edge away, starting their appraisal of the scene.
His DS looks across the rubble. “No security, no CCTV.”
“We’re sure about that?” Adam points to the camera, a small black box near to where Jamie’s car is parked. “Go check it out.”
