Page 25 of One Left Alive
‘Yes, of course, Sarge. I don’t know what I’m doing though.’
Amy laughed. ‘To be fair neither do we. We’ve been winging it for years. You’ll be fine, as long as you use your common sense.’
‘Ah, well I have that in buckets. Thanks, I’ll give it a go.’
They left Morgan making two mugs of coffee and went back into the office where Claire and Abigail had set themselves up at desks with their laptops.
Seventeen
Morgan followed Amy to the blue room, which was actually painted an unusual shade of pink, and took a seat at the large table. There was a huge television screen, and a camera which kept moving around the room. Abigail, Claire and Wendy filed in, followed by everyone else and took a seat. The room was mirrored on the television screen. Morgan hated seeing herself on camera, she rarely took selfies, so every time it swung around to her she bowed her head, feeling self-conscious. Her hair was frizzy after her shower; there was only a hose in the ladies’ changing rooms to dry your hair with and it didn’t give it the smooth, straightened effect she preferred. Ben came in last, walked straight over to the camera and turned it off. Her shoulders dropped, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
‘No need to scare ourselves with that, it’s bad enough looking at you all in the flesh.’
Laughter filled the room. Amy had her laptop open and was logging herself onto the system.
‘For the benefit of today’s new additions to the team I’ll do a brief introduction.’ He went around the room and let each person speak.
‘This all started yesterday with the report of a suicide out at a house called Lake View, on Easdale Road. PC Brookes was the first officer on scene. It all looked pretty straightforward. I attended and didn’t think anything was untoward. I should have looked closer, but I didn’t. I hold my hands up and the lesson has been learned; no matter how long you’ve been doing this job never take anything at face value.
‘The body was taken to the RLI, where the pathologist wasn’t happy that this was a straightforward suicide. Fast forward to today: unable to trace Olivia Potter’s husband or children despite ANPR markers being placed on his car and the reg being circulated countywide, there were no sightings. Morgan went back to the house this morning and found the grim discovery in the cellar.’
Amy brought up the crime scene photos and slowly clicked through them. Claire sat forward and Abigail let out a small gasp. Morgan didn’t need to look at them: they were forever imprinted in her mind in all their bloody, technicolour glory. Not wanting anyone to think her squeamish, she stared at the screen. It didn’t look real in the photographs. The carnage and devastation didn’t hit home like it had in that cellar which smelt of damp and blood.
‘Saul Potter, and his youngest daughter Beatrix, were both dead on the scene, massive blunt-force injuries to their heads. Both faces were covered with white cloths. Bronte, the older sister, was found by Morgan barely alive and rushed to the RLI, where she is currently undergoing surgery to remove a clot from her brain. The safe word when speaking to staff for updates is “campervan”.’
Everyone scribbled it down onto their notepads, and Morgan did the same.
Ben continued talking and, listening to his soothing voice, her eyes began to feel heavy and she had to pinch her arm under the table to wake herself up. She’d never live it down if she fell asleep in her first murder investigation briefing. Ben would send her back down to response faster than she’d come up. But she was tired, beyond tired. Her dad’s late-night visit had disrupted her routine. The usual feeling of swallowing a lead ball settled in her stomach at the thought of him being in her apartment. She didn’t trust him; she was sure he wouldn’t have left like he’d promised and he’d have eaten what meagre food she had in her fridge.
She felt a sharp dig in the side of her stomach and glanced around to see Amy staring at her. With a start she realised her attention had drifted off and she mouthed ‘sorry’. She brought her attention back to Ben, who was staring at her, and she realised he’d asked her a question. Only she had no idea what.
‘Sorry, can you repeat that?’
‘I said that you were going to be responsible for CCTV enquiries at surrounding properties to Lake View. Is that okay?’
‘Yes, Sarge.’
‘Good, the houses along that stretch of Easdale Road are expensive. Which means they’re likely to have good security systems with a possibility of CCTV. At least that’s what I’m hoping for. It would be a bit of a miracle if they all worked or had cameras which covered the road.
‘Amy, you are in charge of background checks on the family. I’ve already asked Intel to do the more in-depth stuff. I want you to get me their Facebook accounts, friends list, et cetera.’
Morgan raised her hand.
‘Yes.’
‘Teenagers don’t really do Facebook any more. They tend to go for Snapchat or Instagram; TikTok is very popular at the moment.’
Ben repeated. ‘Tick tock, what the hell is that?’
She shrugged. ‘Not too sure, I just know a lot of them use it.’
Abigail nodded. ‘She’s right, studies show it’s more our age group that use Facebook.’
‘Well then, there’s a good chance Saul and Olivia are on Facebook. Just see what you can find. Wendy, can you give us an update on the evidence at the scene?’
Wendy began to talk them through what she’d found.
When she’d finished Claire asked, ‘What can you tell me about the cloths covering their faces?’
