Page 54 of Twisted Lies
‘What? You could choose the actual sound that—’
‘Hang on, give me a minute while I… ooh… it’s pinged on the word torture— Oh my God, come take a look at this.’
Forty-Three
‘So who’d you speak to in Somerset?’ Bryant asked as they pulled out of the station car park.
‘Detective Inspector Lynes. Helpful kind of chap. Said he’d hold the body in place until three thirty, so I might need you to find that fifth gear, Captain Slow.’
Stacey’s Google Alert had turned up a fresh, new crime scene being handled approximately ninety miles away, in Clevedon. The initial holding statement from the press liaison had actually used the word ‘torture’, causing it to show up on their radar. A quick call to the local force, a brief explanation and she’d been transferred to the DI at the scene.
Avon and Somerset Police was responsible for the county of Somerset and also the districts of Bristol, Bath and South Gloucestershire. The force employed almost six thousand people and covered a population of just under two million. The team consisted of around three thousand police officers and was responsible for the eleventh largest geographic area in England and Wales.
They were heading to Clevedon in north Somerset. Using the M5, Kim’s satnav told her they were now 88 miles away and would be there in an hour and a half. Ten minutes too late. Bryant was going to have to haul ass to get them there in time; she wanted to see this body that had apparently been slowly tortured to death.
‘Did he say anything else about the body they’ve found?’ Bryant asked.
‘Only that he’d never seen anything like it in his life.’
Forty-Four
‘Finally,’ Stacey said as an email landed from the Cedar Vale medical practice. She’d fired off emails to the school secretary at Ormiston, requesting details on Jacob Powell, but had received no response, but it was the medical records of the Phippses that she was really interested in.
The message had four attachments. One for each member of the family.
‘Hmm… that’s strange,’ she said, noting the size of the files.
‘Strange is good,’ Penn said, raising his head.
Stacey clicked into the first file, which was that of Darren Phipps, the youngest of the two boys.
‘The file only goes back five years.’
‘Wasn’t that when they moved into the area?’
‘Yeah, but medical files follow you around. There must be some kind of mistake.’
Stacey wondered if the surgery had started new electronic files when the family had joined the practice but not bothered to attach the old ones.
She reached towards the phone to call them and stopped. It had taken long enough to get this much.
‘Youngest boy has asthma,’ she said, reading through the notes, but Penn’s interest had already been lost. Other than an ear infection, there was nothing to note.
She clicked onto Tommy’s records and found little more there. A couple of minor infections, but no ongoing health concerns like his brother.
‘There’s no referral,’ she said out loud.
‘Huh?’ Penn said distractedly.
‘To see a therapist. There’s no mention here of any adjustment problems, anxiety, depression.’
‘Must have just gone private,’ Penn said, reaching for his headphones. ‘Still waiting for something strange, Stace.’
To her thatwasstrange. The NHS had vast resources available for mental health issues. She could see no record of anything being mentioned about Tommy’s state of mind. It made no sense. The Phipps family had not been rolling in money, so why go private instead of using the NHS?
The question stayed in her mind as she clicked onto the third file. The record of KeithPhipps. The man had a repeat prescription for Naproxen for arthritic pain in his hands. A job in heavy construction must have played havoc with that condition. Rare in a reasonably young man but not unheard of. Beyond that he’d visited once for a flu injection the previous winter. This family certainly didn’t drain the NHS of resources. It appeared they visited the doctor only when absolutely necessary.
Right now, the family’s medical records were posing more questions than they were answering.
