Page 2 of The Girl in the Grave
One of the CSIs was talking urgently into the radio clipped to his shirt as the other one walked towards him and Jason.
‘Thanks, guys, we’ll take it from here. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to step away. This is a crime scene now.’
Barry felt himself being tugged backwards and turned to see Jason pulling him away towards the path. The undertakers and environmental health officer followed quickly behind them until they all stood huddled next to the silver van with blacked-out windows belonging to the undertakers. All of them turned to watch, their eyes drawn towards the grave and the coffin suspended in mid-air above it.
Dark clouds rolled over the sun, and Barry didn’t think he’d ever felt so cold.
Two
Elizabeth Adams tucked the silver, chin-length hair that normally hid the scar on the side of her forehead behind her ears and wiped the sweat from her brow with her sleeve. Strong arms grabbed her as a foot slipped around the back of her leg and she felt herself falling through the air, landing on the gym mat with a loud ‘Agh’. Her assailant towered above her with a grin on his face. He held out his hand, and she took it as he pulled her to her feet.
‘That was sneaky, and you know it.’
‘You left yourself wide open. It was an opportunity and I took it.’
She wanted to give him the finger but managed to restrain herself. He was right: she’d taken her eyes off him for a moment and he’d got the advantage. She knew the golden rule: never take your eyes off your opponent. It was a reminder to be alert at all times and one she shouldn’t have needed. To say she was annoyed with herself was an understatement; it could have been anyone. Just because she was in the church hall where the self-defence classes were held didn’t matter. She knew better; an attack could happen anywhere at any time, even in your own home. She stopped herself before the memories could come flooding back.
‘Yes, I did. Well done.’
He saluted her and walked over to the crowd of newbies who were huddled in the corner staring open-mouthed at her. She could tell they were hoping that Phil, who was over six foot tall and had muscles Arnold Schwarzenegger would be proud of, wouldn’t pick one of them for his next victim. A phone vibrated on the windowsill and she glanced sideways, knowing it would be hers; it always was, no matter how many times she was supposed to be off duty, she never really was. This was her weekend off and she’d had every intention of spending her Saturday doing nothing but drinking tea and reading, but then the guilt had kicked in: she’d missed her evening class, so had decided to get out of the house and come to the Saturday lunchtime one. Although not necessary for everyone, human interaction and an attempt at some kind of social life, for her, was something she knew she had to force herself to do. Striding towards the window, she picked up her phone.
‘Doctor Adams.’
‘This is the Force Incident Manager. We have a serious problem. Someone’s found a body in a grave that shouldn’t be there.’
She shook her head. When didn’t the police have a problem?
‘What’s the address? I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
As she listened, she grabbed a pen off the windowsill and was about to scribble the details down on the back of her hand when she stopped: there was no need. She knew this address well, although she hadn’t been there for quite some time.
As she said goodbye and ended the call, a loud shout behind her made her jump. Turning around she saw that Phil was now towering over one of the newbies who was lying on the gym mat clutching at his stomach and groaning. She smiled to herself. She’d been there before many times. It hurt like hell when you winded yourself by landing heavily in an unexpected move. That guy wouldn’t forget that in a hurry, or the laughter coming from the others around him. It would make or break him; he’d either get up and start again to prove he wasn’t a pushover, or he’d hide at the back until the self-defence class was finished. She hoped he stuck it out; he looked as if he needed all the help he could get.
She grabbed her water bottle and car keys from the window ledge, turning to wave at Phil, who nodded in return. He was a nice guy and he worked her hard now, but he’d taken his time and never pushed her too far in the early days when she’d plucked up the courage to walk in and sign herself up to join the class. He never asked questions and she never told him why she was there, although he probably recognised her from the newspapers. Everyone did, eventually, even though she’d cut her long, blonde hair and asked the hairdresser to turn it ash grey to make herself look older and blend in. Now it seemed everyone wanted to be grey. The only time in her life she’d been a leader in the fashion world, she chuckled to herself.
As she left the church hall she scanned the car park, making sure there was no one around. It made her angry that she was now so aware and conscious about her safety. Only a few years ago it would never have entered her head: she’d always been so sure of herself. She clicked the fob and the lights on her black BMW X1 blinked in response: not too flashy but it had made her feel safe when she’d taken it for a test drive. It was solid, yet fast if she needed it to be. Climbing in, habit made her turn her head and check the back seat was empty; the constant fear that someone might be hiding in it sometimes made living her life impossible. Breathing out a sigh of relief at the sight of her gym bag and empty coffee cup, she started the car. The cemetery was less than ten minutes away.
Three
Detective Sergeant Josh Walker got out of the unmarked Ford Focus and stared at the sight in front of him with his mouth open. He turned to his colleague, Detective Constable Sam Thomas, pointed to the dirt-covered coffin dangling mid-air and whispered, ‘Well there’s something you don’t see every day.’ She shook her head, speechless. Josh lifted his hand, waving at Claire and Carl, the two CSIs who’d had the privilege of documenting what should have been a straightforward grave exhumation. Claire waved back, while Carl nodded and pointed at his protective suit. Josh realised he was telling him to get suited and booted, so he walked around to the boot of the car where he kept a supply of the essentials needed to enter a serious crime scene. Sam followed and the pair of them began to open the plastic packets and dress in the protective clothing.
Josh tugged on some protective shoe covers along with a pair of rubber gloves and headed towards the scene that had been cordoned off with blue and white crime scene tape. He ducked under it, turning to see if Sam was behind him, but she was still by the car, talking to someone on her phone. He smiled to himself: she was a little too squeamish sometimes for this job, but as they had been the only two left in the office, he’d had no choice but to bring her along.
‘So tell me how a body can end up in a graveunderneatha coffin. Are you sure it didn’t fall out of it?’ Josh said, catching up with Carl and walking alongside him towards the grave.
Carl rolled his eyes at him. ‘Yes, I’m bloody sure. What do you take me for, Josh? I’m not an idiot; the coffin is new. It’s rock solid. There’s no way she’s come out of there.’
Josh walked along the metal plates that had been put down along the grass verge to lead a path to the open grave without contaminating the scene. ‘Maybe the rain washed the body from another grave into this one? That storm was terrible; it poured for days.’
‘And maybe you watch too many horror films, Josh. There’s no way that’s happened, it’s impossible.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because the grave has four solid walls. It didn’t give way when it was dug out and the coffin removed. It’s a perfect, oblong hole in the ground. The only way it got there was because someone put it there.’
Josh had reached the gravesite. Stepping forward he peered down into the grave.
‘Bollocks, I hate it when you’re right, Carl.’
