remarked that they seemed quite tentative."
Tony gave a small smile of satisfaction.
"Did the pathologist say what has caused the trauma to the limbs? The shots at the site look like a rag doll."
Carol sighed.
"He didn't want to be pushed to an official conclusion.
All four limbs were dislocated, and some of his vertebrae were out of alignment. He said. " She paused and imitated the pathologist's portentous delivery, " Don't quote me, but I'd expect to see injuries like this after the Spanish Inquisition had put someone on the rack. "
"The rack? Shit, we're really dealing with a messy mind here. OK.
Next set. Paul Gibbs. This one's yours, I think? " Tony asked as he replaced Adam Scott's photographs and took out the contents of the second folder. He repeated the process he'd gone through before.
"So where is this scene in relation to the first one?" Tony asked.
"Hang on a minute. I'll show you." Carol opened one of the boxes and picked out the large-scale map she'd thought to bring with her. She unfolded it and spread it out on the floor. Tony got up from his desk and crouched down beside her. She was instantly aware of the smell of him, a mixture of shampoo and his own faint, animal scent. No macho aftershave, no cologne. She watched his pale, square hands on the map, the short, almost stubby fingers, with their neatly trimmed nails and a sparse scattering of fine black hairs on the bottom section of each finger. Appalled, she felt a stirring of desire.
You're pathetic as an adolescent, she savagely chided herself. Like a teenager who fancies the first teacher who says anything nice about your work. Grow up, Jordan!
Under the guise of pointing out the sites on the map, Carol inched away.
"Crompton Gardens is here," she said.
"Canal Street is about half a mile away, over here. And the Queen of Hearts pub is just along here, about midway between the two."
"Is it safe to assume he knows the area well?" Tony asked, making his own mental map of the murder sites.
"I think so. Crompton Gardens is a pretty obvious dumping ground, but the other two imply quite a high degree of familiarity with Temple Fields." Carol sat back on her haunches, trying to work out if the pattern of sites implied an approach from one specific direction.
"I need to take a look at the scenes. Preferably around the time the bodies were dumped. Do we know when that was?" Tony said.
"We don't know about Adam. Estimated time of death is an hour either side of midnight, so not before then. With Paul, we know the doorway was clear just after three a.m. Gareth's time of death is estimated at between seven and ten p.m. the evening before his body was found.
And with Damien, the yard was clear at half past eleven," Carol recited, closing her eyes to recall the information.
Tony found himself staring at her face, glad of the freedom her shuttered eyelids gave him. Even without the animation of her blue eyes, he could see that she'd be classified beautiful. Oval face, broad forehead, clear pale skin, and that thick blonde hair, cut slightly shaggy. A strong, determined mouth. A furrow that appeared between her brows when she concentrated. And his appreciation was as clinical as if she were a photograph in a casebook. Why was it that, faced with a woman any normal man would regard as attractive, something in him closed down? Was it because he refused to allow himself to feel the first stirrings that might lead him to a place where he was no longer in control, where humiliation lurked? Carol's eyes opened, registering surprise when she saw him watching her.
He felt his ears tingle with a blush and turned back to the map.
"So he's a night owl," he said abruptly.
"I'd like to take a look at the area tonight, if I can. Maybe you can get someone else to show me round so you can catch up on your sleep."
Carol shook her head.
"No. If we can get through here by five, I'll go home and grab a few hours' shut-eye. I'll pick you up around midnight and we can go then. Is that OK?" she asked, belatedly.
"Perfect," Tony said, getting to his feet and retreating behind his desk.
"As long as you don't mind." He picked up the photographs and forced himself back behind Handy Andy's eyes.
"He's made a real mess of this one, hasn't he?"
"Paul's the only one who's been