Page 33 of Dying Breath
‘Yes, but how irresponsible to go to bed and leave the house unsecured. Unless she didn’t and we discover that the husband killed them, then shot himself. It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?’
‘There’s only one way to find out.’
He pointed to the stairs and let her lead the way. Lucy started to climb them, staying close to the wall in case the killer had used the banister going up and down. It was unlikely, but you could never discount any surfaces from which you might get a half-decent fingerprint. She could smell the metallic tang of blood, even through her mask. She steeled herself for what she was about to see.
When she reached the master bedroom she surveyed the scene quickly. She couldn’t spot a gun; Tom was right. She supposed it was possible that it had fallen from the killer’s hands and under the bed. It took a few more moments for her to let the reality of what had happened here sink in, as she stared at the bodies. It was a scene from her worst nightmares. She realised that the man had been shot in the head from behind, at close range, and she gasped. Why would anyone do this? It was brutal. The horror of being murdered in your own home, unable to protect your family, was incomprehensible.
She stepped aside to let Mattie take a look as she turned away and forced herself to walk on towards the open doorway of the boy’s bedroom. The brightly painted blue walls were covered in spaceship stickers and posters. There was a near complete version of the Milky Way stuck onto the ceiling; hundreds of glow-in-the-dark stars and planets covered it. Someone had taken a lot of time to put these up. This just wasn’t right. She looked all over the room, studying every inch of it except the bed. But when there was nowhere else left to fix her gaze, she made herself focus on it. She felt her heart tear in two. She was never very good with murdered children; thankfully it didn’t happen often.
The small body of the boy lay there, his astronaut duvet tucked around him and a teddy bear close to his head. He was forever frozen in time and space; he would never age another minute. Lucy stepped closer; an urge to shake the kid overwhelmed her. She wanted to shout at him to wake up and tell him the game was over; he’d got her good and proper. Reaching out a gloved hand, she gently touched his arm and recoiled at how stiff it was. There was no waking him up and the bullet hole in his forehead was only confirmation of what she already knew.
‘Come on. We can let CSI get cracking, Lucy.’
She nodded, unable to answer Mattie because she didn’t know whether she could speak without her voice breaking. She followed him to the door and let him go first. Then she turned back and whispered, ‘You’re safe now. My name is Lucy and I promise I will find whoever did this to you and make them pay.’
Then she followed Mattie downstairs, out into the cool night air. Lifting her right arm, she used the sleeve to wipe away the solitary tear that had escaped and was rolling down her cheek.
They walked over to the CSI van, where Tom was standing and Amanda was securing the straps around her boot covers.
‘Bad?’
‘Yes, very. It’s all yours.’
‘Thanks, boss.’ She walked away and Lucy turned to face Tom.
‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to say.’
‘It’s just the shock of it all. You don’t expect that to happen to anyone you know. Let alone next door to you. I keep thinking, what if it had been my house? It could be me and my family lying there. What made whoever killed them choose them and not us?’
Desperately wanting to ease the hurt and protect the man standing in front of her, she shook her head.
‘We haven’t ruled out a murder-suicide yet. Catherine will be able to tell us more when she takes a look.’
‘No, I suppose not. But he was a good guy. Why would he want to kill his family? I mean, I know Arran was difficult – he was on the autistic spectrum – but they seemed to have it all under control.’
There was a pause.
‘We’re going to need your clothes, sir,’ Lucy said apologetically. ‘You were the first one on the scene; you know how it is. Just in case? Why don’t you go inside your house and get changed, pop them into a bag and have a stiff drink?’
Tom nodded; he knew the score. They’d probably also want to swab his hands, just to make sure that he hadn’t fired a gun and that there was no gunshot residue underneath his fingernails.
‘It’s okay, Lucy. I’ll get Browning to take me back to the station – he can get my clothes from me, then phone the new boy to come and swab my hands.’
‘I’m so sorry, Tom.’
‘You don’t have to be – I wouldn’t expect anything less of you, Lucy. Your attention to detail is the reason I phoned you in the first place. I want the bastard who has done this caught and I know you’ll catch them.’
Chapter Thirty
Lucy watched as Browning drove away with Tom, back in the direction of the station. It was going to be a long night. Dr Catherine Maxwell was on her way, but had been called out of a show she was watching and wouldn’t be here as quickly as normal. Amanda had done the initial videoing and photographing; now she was waiting for Jack to devise a forensic strategy on the best way to process the scene. Multiple murders were difficult. Nothing was going to happen fast tonight; sometimes that was the way. On the plus side, they didn’t have any angry family members demanding to be let in to the scene or making a fuss. At least, not yet – because of the isolated location the news wouldn’t travel so swiftly this time. Unless Alison phoned her friends to tell them.Shit.Lucy realised there was a good chance she might already have done so. She beckoned one of the first officers who had arrived on the scene over to where she was, leaning against the bonnet of a patrol car.
‘Can you go in and sit with the DCI’s wife for a while? Make sure she’s not on the phone or Facebook telling the whole world what’s happened.’
‘Er, I can do…but he’ll be pissed when he comes back and sees me in his house.’
Lucy smiled. ‘Ah yes, you were the one who cuffed him and put him in the van. He might well be pissed with you, but he also knows that you were only doing your job. So once the shock and anger wear off, you’ll be fine.’
‘Do you think so?’
