She Lies in Wait (DCI Jonah Sheens #1) - Gytha Lodge Page 0,1
Bring the kit bag from behind my desk. And find someone to lend me a deodorant.”
“Yes, sir,” Lightman answered, his voice as level as ever.
Jonah slotted his phone back into the pocket of his technical top. There was sweat already cooling on him and leaving him chilled. He ought to get cycling again. It was a few more miles to Godshill.
He stayed there, unmoving, for a full minute, then swung his leg off the Cannondale and started to walk it slowly up the hill.
* * *
—
HANSON WAS IN such a hurry to climb out of the car that she caught the sleeve of her expensive new suit on a protruding piece in the door and pulled a thread. It gave her a slightly sick feeling. She hadn’t really been able to afford it in the first place. She’d bought three others in her first two weeks as a DC, having previously owned only jeans, tank tops, and sweaters, and a few dresses for going out. Suits were bloody expensive, and she resented the money she could have been spending on her unreliable car. Or maybe on an actual social life, which she seemed to have forgotten about somewhere along the way.
She tried to smooth down the plucked sleeve while she made her way inside. She wondered if she could get her mum to take a look at it, if she managed to make it to her mum’s anytime soon. A potential homicide might mean working through the weekend. Late nights and living off caffeine while they caught the killer. The thought made her smile.
She let herself into CID and saw Lightman’s head bent over his screen. She wondered how long he’d been here, and whether he did anything else with his life. Whether there were a Lightman wife and kids that he hadn’t yet mentioned. He somehow had the look of an unfaithful husband about him. Too pretty, and too closed-off. Unless that was more her own recent experience warping her expectations.
Lightman caught sight of her and gave a small smile. “I got hold of the chief. He’s going to need picking up and taking to the crime scene.”
“On it,” Hanson answered immediately. “Where is he?”
“Godshill,” he said. “He’s on his bike.”
Hanson nodded. She pretended she knew the place well, and that she wasn’t about to punch it into her GPS. Two weeks into the job and she basically knew the route from home to the station and the supermarket, and from there to the dockside, where they’d been looking at some potential fraud. She missed the certainty of zooming around Birmingham, where she’d grown up and then worked as a constable for two years. Though she had to admit that the New Forest was a lot prettier.
“You’ll need this,” Lightman said, and lifted a dark-gray kit bag from the floor. “And despite the time constraints, I’d take him a coffee. He’s not going to be that happy at having his day off interrupted.”
“OK. Just…a filter coffee? Not a latte or something?”
Lightman laughed. “God, no. Have you not had one of his rants on coffee menus yet?”
“No, but I’m sure it’ll be great.” She put the kit bag onto her shoulder. “OK. Anything else? Do you know what it’s about yet?”
Lightman shook his head. “Local sergeant will hand over to the chief at the scene. You’ll both get a rundown, though if it’s not recent, there won’t be much so far.”
Hanson nodded and tried not to smile. You shouldn’t smile at news of a murder, even if it had been ages ago. But the truth was, she was delighted.
* * *
—
HANSON WAS WOUND up like it was exam-results day. She gabbled at Jonah about the kit bag and coffee, and then without pausing for breath asked about the remains. Jonah found it somewhere between sweet and irritating.
“Ben said they might not be recent,” she said.
“I’d wait until forensics gave an opinion,” he replied, taking a long gulp of coffee. “Most people—including me—don’t have a clue what age bones are.”
Having sweated and chilled, he was cold even in the suit he had tugged on in the public toilets at Godshill. Cold, and drifting around his own thoughts of thirty years ago. He had to interrupt her to ask her to turn the heater on. The Fiat veered while she turned the dial, and then steadied.
“Sorry,” she said.
“I’m just grateful you’re driving,” he said with a slight smile. “The coffee was a good call, by the way. You’ve given me