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Adam barely blinks. “There’s another victim,” he says dully.
“Yes,” Lee replies, blinking back tears. “It’s Ellie.”
* * *
Adam doesn’t remember much after that. Flickering images barely digested as he numbly goes through the motions. Cops on the door, a cordon already secured. Blue lights bouncing off windows. A familiar house, hysterical flat mates, crying and hugging. The crinkle of a white crime scene suit, the feeling of his breath behind the mask. Sweat on his palms under the gloves.
He takes the stairs slowly, his legs heavy and tired. He’s so exhausted he feels drunk. He remembers this place. Kissing Ellie, fumbling under her clothes. Her body, young, warm. Alive.
Eyes watch him as he goes inside, fingers point to the bathroom. She lies on the floor; blood is everywhere. He doesn’t go in.
A lake of red covers every inch of the tiled floor, circling the toilet, the sink. The shower is peppered with streaks, smudges, spatter. Fingerprints, lines working downward as she fell.
He backs away. He doesn’t want to see her body anymore—the deep gashes, wounds, much like the other victims. He doesn’t want to imagine her last moments. Adam’s empty stomach is hollow; he presses his fingers to his lips, over the mask, remembering her kiss, her vulnerability, her beauty.
Two more SOCOs enter, evidence kits in hand, and in a stark moment of clarity Adam realizes: my DNA will be all over this room. His fingerprints, his saliva, his skin cells, hair, present on her bed. He pulls the hood from his head, the mask from his mouth. He needs a reason why they might find it. A fuck-up now, an explanation for later. But a SOCO stops him.
“Boss, what are you doing? You’ll contaminate the crime scene.”
“Yes, sorry, right.” He pulls them back on, then quickly leaves the room. He won’t wait, he can’t.
He walks away, out of the house and to his car. He pulls off the PPE, and sits and watches, breathing hard.
He thinks of the killer. Audacious enough to walk through a house, unseen, and kill without anyone raising the alarm. In and out without a single witness. The flat mates had gone to see if Ellie wanted a hot chocolate and found the body. She’d been alone maybe ten minutes, fifteen? Was that luck, confidence, or something else?
As he watches, he sees a car pull up in the road. He recognizes it, a posh Jag E-type, belonging to Marsh.
Without thinking, he gets out of his car and walks across. Marsh is still sitting in the driver’s seat. Adam taps on the passenger side window. Locks click open and Adam gets in.
“It’s DC Quinn?” Marsh asks. Adam nods. His mouth is dry.
Marsh looks toward the house, muttering profanities under his breath.
“Guv?” Adam says.
Marsh looks back at him.
“There’s something I need to tell you. Something about last night.”
CHAPTER
52
“FUCK, BISHOP.”
Marsh utters it in a frustrated sigh.
Adam tells him about the trip to the bar. Bumping into Ellie. Going back to her house. He stops short of the full details, but it is enough. A relationship with a subordinate is strictly out of bounds. Especially now she’s dead.
“Fuck,” Marsh says again. “We’ll have to get a proper statement. To rule you out as a murder suspect, if nothing else, but you know Professional Standards will get involved. They’ll need to investigate properly, and who knows what other shit will come out.” He stares at Adam. “What other shit do I need to be aware of, DCI Bishop?”
Adam shakes his head miserably. “Nothing else, guv. Nothing, I swear.”
Marsh sighs. “Go home. I’ll deal with this crime scene, and we’ll talk again in the morning.”
“Am I suspended?”
“No. But … Christ, I don’t know. It was bad enough, you working the case when Pippa was murdered, but this. It’s a step too far, Adam. There’s no way I can keep you on as SIO.”
