Page 22 of Deadly Cry
‘Play that bit again,’ Kim said.
Bryant rewound and slowed the footage. On its journey back, the camera’s gaze had caught Katrina perusing the toiletry aisle and Mia still hovering around the toys.
Kim took a good look. Katrina was interacting with no one and no one appeared to be showing her any undue attention.
The screen went blank again before the final piece of footage filled the screen. The angle was back to the fixed camera at the entrance. Katrina was picking out and reading greetings cards at a stand just inside the door. A basket of small purchases was at her feet. She placed a card back before looking over the top of the stand to the rear of the store.
‘Checking on Mia,’ Bryant observed. Obviously satisfied that her child was safe, she reached to pick out another card, but paused and turned her head to look out of the shop.
‘Slow it,’ Kim said.
In slow motion they watched as she appeared to listen to someone on the outside of the shop.
She nodded and began using her hands to point.
Kim had the urge to try and turn the camera to capture who had been outside the store, but of course it wasn’t live time: it was an historic piece of footage that couldn’t be altered. ‘Directions,’ Kim said, watching Katrina’s mannerisms. ‘Someone was asking for directions.’
Kim watched as Katrina glanced back up towards the toys before taking a step towards the exit of the shop.
Kim had the urge to shout out not to do it, not to take those last few steps that were going to end her life.
Her mind screamed the words as Katrina continued to move towards the door.
She stepped over the threshold and out of sight.
Kim knew she had just witnessed the last time that Katrina Nock had been seen alive.
Twenty
‘Err… mind stepping back a little, Penn,’ Keats said, moving towards the weighing scales with a kidney in his hands.
‘Oh, sure,’ Penn said, moving away from the body of Katrina Nock.
‘I can honestly say I’m flattered by your diligent interest in my work, but very few observers want to get this close to the process.’
Penn shrugged and waited. If that was the pathologist’s indirect way of calling him weird, it wasn’t the first time the observation had been thrown his way. And it didn’t bother him one little bit.
His analytical brain was interested in the mechanics, the detail of a subject: how the sum of the parts made something work. He remembered one of his friends in school falling from a tree while on a school trip. Kids and teachers had gathered around out of concern, and Penn had gathered too. Once the screaming from Jimmy had assured Penn his friend was alive, he had focused on the angles of the broken limbs, captivated by the picture of flesh ripped open by splintering bones, picturing the twisted muscle and sinews hidden from view. So engrossed, he’d been disappointed when the paramedics had whisked Jimmy away to hospital.
It wasn’t that he didn’t feel empathy for the victims, but he’d never been one to dwell on things he couldn’t change.
If he could have prevented Jimmy Ryland from falling out of the tree, he would have done so. If it was in his power to resurrect Katrina Nock and send her home to her family, he would do so in a heartbeat, but he couldn’t and so it was best to learn all that he could so they could catch the person who’d killed her and offer some comfort to her loved ones.
Luckily, he’d never been squeamish and was able to dispassionately view the sight before him and see the body for the complex and miraculous sequence of parts that had once worked together to form a life.
Keats noted a measurement before carefully placing the organ back into the body. Had there been any doubt as to the cause of death, Keats would have taken samples from each organ and sent them to the lab for testing.
‘Normal,’ Keats said out loud.
Just like everything else, Penn thought. So far, there had been nothing not normal about Katrina Nock. She’d been in decent physical shape and all major organs had been functioning correctly. She’d never smoked, had no broken bones, good teeth and had eaten a bowl of cereal for breakfast.
Samples of blood and urine had been taken for toxicology to determine drugs, medicines and other natural body chemicals, but Penn didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary there.
Clean was the word that kept going through his mind. Everything about it was clean. The murder itself had been clean: confirmed by Keats as a broken neck. He had explained that when the neck breaks near the skull, three things happen – you can’t move, you stop breathing and your body loses the ability to control your heart – resulting in instant death.
‘But it’s not as easy as they portray it in the films,’ Keats had explained. ‘The neck bones and muscles offer some resistance, so we’re talking considerable physical strength to execute this method of murder, if you’ll excuse the pun.’
Penn had seen the fatal injury before in traffic collisions, but never as a result of murder.
