Page 32 of The Scene of the Crime
She could recall entering the room with David and seeing their mother sitting upright in bed. Eileen greeted them with a loving smile, though it was evident she had been crying. David stood on one side of the bed while she stood on the other, and Eileen took hold of their hands. What she said was forever etched in both their memories.
‘I have cancer in my bones and liver, which is inoperable. The doctor said they could arrange end-of-life care for me at home, but I don’t want to be a burden to you.’
David froze with shock, then broke down in floods of tears, repeatedly insisting that the doctors were wrong and that she wasn’t going to die. Eileen squeezed his hand tighter.
‘I’m sorry, but there’s nothing the doctors or anyone else can do for me, even if I had seen them weeks ago.’
In her forensic work, through focusing on the job in hand and practising meditation, Jessica had learned to set aside her feelings when dealing with death. Knowing she had an important job to do and that her efforts often comforted the grieving also helped her cope. But when she was told her mother was going to die it felt like her heart had been ripped out.
Three days later, Jessica and David were again by Eileen’s side as she peacefully passed away. It felt like their mother had been taken from them in the blink of an eye.
* * *
Driving to Barking, Jessica thought about what Michelle had said, how she must have prosecuted or defended men and women who were capable of violent crimes but learned to detach herself from the horrific acts they were accused of. But when tragedy is close to you, really part of you, detachment seems impossible. Jessica had learned that. And now Michelle was learning it, too.
But her mother’s death, and being abandoned by her father, weren’t the only traumatic events Jessica had had to deal with in her life. In her interview for the MSCAN job, she had only given brief details about the sexual assault she had suffered. And the road to recovery had been a long one. It was only through counselling and many hours of yoga and meditation that she had learned how to deal with her feelings. And, of course, focusing her attention on her work. And that, she knew, more than ever, was what she had to do now.
Having learned the extent and brutality of Johan’s injuries from Doctor Babu, Jessica wondered if the person who entered the De Klerks’ house had done so with the sole intent of killing or causing severe injuries to Johan. If so, had taking the contents of the safe and the watch been done to make things look likea burglary gone wrong? Although it was possible, stealing first and then trying to kill Johan just didn’t make sense. Jessica tapped the steering wheel, wondering if she had overlooked or misinterpreted something in her scene analysis. And there was another question: why did someone want Johan De Klerk dead?
CHAPTER NINE
Jessica parked her car, grabbed her shoulder bag, ran across the yard to the station entrance and pressed the buzzer. She would have liked to go through the notes and photos on her iPad first but was already half an hour late for the meeting. She needed to know more about Johan De Klerk’s personal, professional and social life to complete a detailed victim profile. If there was a link in De Klerk’s lifestyle to his assailant, it needed to be found.
The receptionist told Jessica that Anderson’s team office was on the third floor and pointed to the lift down the corridor, but Jessica opted for the stairs. Before entering the room, she paused for breath, untied her hair, smoothed it down with her hands then tied it up again before brushing herself down. As she entered, the room of twenty detectives and civilian staff went quiet as they looked inquisitively at her, clearly wondering who she was. Jessica saw DCI Anderson standing by a large TV screen at the far end of the room with DI Chapman.
‘Glad you could join us, Miss Russell. Better late than never, I suppose,’ he said coldly.
‘Sorry, sir, but I was . . .’
‘Yes, DI Chapman told me you were with Mrs De Klerk at the hospital. If you had phoned me when she turned up at her house, I could have gone to the hospital to meet her.’
Jessica knew Anderson was deliberately belittling her in front of his team, but she was determined not to react. She focused on her breathing, remained expressionless and let him continue.
‘For those who don’t know, this is Jessica Russell, head of the newly formed . . .’ He paused and looked at Jessica. ‘Remind me, what was it called?’
‘It’s MSCAN, short for the Murder and Serious Crime Analysis Unit.’
Anderson was about to continue, but she got in there first. ‘I manage a team of experienced and dedicated forensic experts. We specialise in crime scene analysis, evidence retrieval and forensic examination. We aim to provide evidential opportunities and intelligence that will assist you, as detectives, in solving the serious crimes you investigate. We are here to help . . . not hinder.’ Jessica smiled, and many in the room nodded their approval.
‘And to work effectively and assist us, Jessica’s team need to know what we know,’ Chapman chipped in.
‘I decide on what information needs to be shared, DI Chapman!’ Anderson interjected.
‘I was going to add, within limitations and your approval, sir.’ He gave Jessica a sidelong glance.
Jessica opened her iPad, expecting to be asked to brief everyone about the crime scene, her analysis and the forensic evidence they had gathered.
Anderson looked at his watch, then addressed the team. ‘Carry on with your enquiries, and we’ll have another office meeting at 9 a.m. tomorrow.’
A couple of detectives raised their hands. Anderson looked at his watch again and pointed to the older one.
‘The first attending officer’s body cam video was shaky and unclear, making it difficult to view. I was wondering if Miss Russell had any scene videos or photos we could look at?’
‘I was going to ask the same question, and if the scene examination turned up anything of specific interest,’ another detective chipped in.
‘I’d like to discuss Miss Russell’s observations and the forensic opportunities with her first, then I’ll brief you in the morning,’ Anderson replied, clearly flustered. He turned to Chapman. ‘I need to make a quick phone call. You and Miss Russell come to my office in five minutes.’ He walked out briskly.
‘The missus wants him home in time for din dins,’ one of the detectives quipped, causing a ripple of laughter in the room.
