Page 47 of The Girls in the Lake
‘She didn’t get into it though, she never made it. There would be specks of that glitter on her body if she had. The glitter on her face is silver and I’m assuming from her eye make-up. Not only that, her matted hair extensions have bits of debris in them. She came home, ran a bath fully intending to get into it, only she never made it.’
‘How, how could she drown? I don’t understand it.’
‘It’s very rare and this would only be the second case I’ve come across since I became a pathologist. It’s fatal if the warning symptoms are ignored. Inhaling the smallest amount of water into the lungs can irritate them and cause them to swell. If that is what happened, when I do her post-mortem I will likely find only a small amount of water present; but even the smallest amount of liquid is enough to hinder the lungs’ ability to function as they should and provide enough oxygen for the bloodstream.’
She glanced at Josh, who was pacing up and down, shaking his head. He looked like shit. She knew he was taking this hard, and who could blame him? He’d had the foresight to take a boat out last night to make sure no one came to any harm. This girl had been pushed into the water and he’d saved her, only for him to bring her home and then to find out she’d died anyway. If things hadn’t been so strained between them, she could have offered him some form of comfort, a quick pat on the arm, a squeeze of his hand. Only it didn’t seem right. He’d snuck out of the house without saying goodbye, and she no longer knew where she fit into his life. She turned back to the body on the floor.
‘You weren’t to blame, and you really need to stop pacing, it’s distracting.’
He ran his fingers through his hair, stared at Beth as if she was a complete stranger then turned and left the room.
Beth picked up the girl’s hands to study her fingernails, wondering if she had any chips of paint underneath them as she whispered, ‘I’m so sorry, sweetie, but I’ll take care of you now.’ She couldn’t see anything, but to be sure she placed a paper bag over each hand to preserve any possible trace evidence. Someone had killed this girl. She didn’t know yet whether it was linked to the other two victims but this didn’t make her feel any better about it. All she could do was to make sure she did everything she could to get justice for their families.
Fifty-Two
James had watched Ethan take his motorised dinghy away then decided he was too exhausted to get home and was going to sleep on the boat. He had woken up less than twenty minutes ago and couldn’t believe he’d slept all the way through to the following afternoon. He didn’t have any further party bookings until December, which was just as well because after last night he probably wouldn’t be able to anyway. Claudia Davenport would soon see to that. She had been so angry last night, and none of it had been his fault. The job was too bloody demanding and dangerous. It certainly wasn’t worth the hassle it was bringing to him. His father would have a meltdown over this latest incident; any bad publicity was frowned upon. To bring shame on the family name wasn’t worth the aggravation it caused. He’d learnt that at an early age.
He was about to leave the boat when he saw the blue flashing lights of a police van reflecting along Glebe Road. He groaned, muttering, ‘What the fuck do they want now?’; of course they might be going somewhere else, but he doubted it. It seemed that his boat was a disaster magnet. He climbed off onto the metal jetty and waited with his arms folded to see if the coppers were heading his way. He heard the van stop nearby and felt his blood run cold.
‘James Marshall?’
He turned to face the huge man standing behind him, as broad as he was tall.
‘Yes. What now?’
‘We need to secure the boat. It’s a crime scene. You can’t go back on to it until it’s been searched by the crime scene investigators.’
‘How is it a crime scene? I mean, it’s a fucking disaster, I’ll own up to that with both hands.’
Another officer had joined the first. They glanced at each other, and he realised that something bad had happened.
‘The least you can do is tell me what’s going on. I don’t think I’m asking too much?’
The big guy shrugged. ‘We also need you to come down to the station and give a statement. You’ll be told more then. I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss anything with you.’
‘Am I under arrest?’
‘No, you’re helping with enquiries.’
He fished the keys for the boat out of his pocket and handed them over. ‘Knock yourself out.’
The big guy took them from him, passing them to the other officer.
‘I’ll take him, you wait with the boat for Claire to get here.’
James walked briskly to where the van was parked. There weren’t many people around. Still, he didn’t want anyone he knew to see him get put into a police van. His father was going to go apeshit with him over this.
The copper opened the side door to the van and let him climb in. He supposed he should be grateful he hadn’t made him get in the cage. Good job because the winding roads back to Kendal stuck in that tiny space with no windows would definitely have made him barf. He was glad they hadn’t arrived as he was getting into his car; although he felt sober, the amount of Jack Daniel’s he’d consumed last night might not agree with that diagnosis. If they’d got close and realised he reeked of whiskey they would have breathalysed him and he would be in the cage. He was grateful for that small mercy even if his whole life had gone to rat shit and was out of his control for the first time ever.
Fifty-Three
Josh rushed into the office, took one look at the whiteboard and began to clean it. Detective Chief Inspector Paul O’Neill was on his way from Barrow and would be here soon. He picked up the dried red marker, tugging off the lid and began to write the names of the three victims on the whiteboard. The pen gave out when he was writing Leah Burton’s name. Sam, sensing his urgency, threw him another from her desk drawer. He then wrote the names Julia Bach and Tamara Smythson next to it. His stomach churned each time he heard Tamara’s name; he could have saved her, he should have saved her. Underneath each name he listed what he knew about them.
Leah & Julia both from out of town.
Tamara, local.
All have blonde hair.
