One Left Alive - Helen Phifer Page 0,23

RLI to speak to the doctors about the surviving victim. You don’t need me, do you?’

She shook her head. ‘Nah, I’ll ring if I find anything you need to know about.’

He went upstairs and outside, not realising how clammy and smelly it had been in the cellar until he inhaled deeply and took fresh air into his lungs.

The DCI was still on his phone, but had managed to get suited and booted.

He crossed the driveway towards him as he ended his call.

‘Sir, I’m going to the hospital to see the victim. There’s not much we can do at the moment until the crime scene manager has been to assess the scene.’

Tom nodded. ‘I’ll go take a look, but happy to go with your instructions. Should we all meet back at the station for a briefing at’ – he lifted his wrist to check the time – ‘four. Will that give you enough time to get back from Lancaster?’

‘Plenty. Boss, it’s pretty bad down there.’

Ben knew Tom didn’t have the strongest of stomachs when it came to messy crime scenes.

‘I believe so, but I’d better take a look. Thanks.’

He left him walking at a snail’s pace towards the front door of the house, a small smile playing across his lips. Everyone had their weaknesses: Wendy disliked insects, Tom wasn’t good with blood, and from the scene earlier, he guessed neither was Morgan. He only hoped Tom made it out into the fresh air before he puked or passed out.

Stripping off his protective clothing, Ben bagged it up and placed it in the back of the van for Wendy to take back to the station with her. Amy had come outside already and was leaning against the side of the house, smoking. He walked over to her.

‘I thought you’d packed it in?’

‘So did I until I had to look at that. Jesus, who would do that?’

‘I guess that’s where we come in. I’m going to Lancaster to visit the surviving victim. Can you stay here and make sure everything is taken care of? Let me know if you need me, and I’ll come straight back.’

‘I can, although I don’t really want to have to spend any time alone down there with them. It’s sad, and creepy.’

‘It’s not a Netflix horror movie, Amy, they’re definitely dead and not about to get up and chase you.’

‘I know that, I’m just saying.’

He laughed. ‘Lunch is on me.’

‘Cheers, Sarge, but surprisingly my appetite has vanished.’

‘Well, when it returns, I’ll buy your refs. I won’t be long, it’s just a formality really since she’s slipped into a coma. I just want to see what the doctors have to say about her condition.’

‘Fine, is your new protégé there still?’

He looked to see if she was taking the piss; she wasn’t laughing.

‘Yes, and I reckon she’s stranded. She drove the ambulance while the crew worked on the vic.’

‘All right, go rescue her, but then you’d better get your arse back here and rescue me.’

‘Yes, boss.’ He emphasised the ‘boss’ and this time she did laugh.

Fourteen

Greg Barker saw the dark blue BMW parked in his ‘Reserved for Mayor’ space and felt his blood pressure begin to rise. That self-serving arsehole, Jamie Stone, thought he ran the whole town; he actually thought the whole parish council revolved around him. Well, it bloody didn’t. Jamie was nothing; all he ever did was attend meetings and talk about himself and his ideas. Ideas which most of the time were completely irrelevant to what the meeting had been called for. Just because Stone was obsessed with bringing in more modern recreational amenities to the town, everyone thought he was God’s gift. Why the hell did Rydal Falls and the surrounding villages need a skate park? It was unheard of; was there any point encouraging local children to try and break their necks when the nearest hospital was at least a thirty-minute drive? He didn’t think so. He’d like to take a skateboard and shove it up Jamie Stone’s arse.

He got out of the car and slammed the door, bending to check his reflection in the wing mirror. His thick head of freshly trimmed grey hair made him look much younger than his seventy years. There were a few more lines around his brown eyes and forehead than he liked, but for a pensioner he was fitter than most twenty-year-olds thanks to his eight-mile runs and fell walking. He was in pretty good shape and age was just a number, it didn’t mean anything.

‘Afternoon, Mayor,

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