LITMIR.BIZ

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a jug of water and poured a drink. Jack watched Laura as she moved to the back of the room, tall and dark, in a grey trouser suit, her dimples flashing as she smiled her thanks at those reporters who moved aside for her. Jack made a space for her and she joined him against the wall. He straightened himself. Although just under six feet tall, his slouch made Laura look taller than him.

      He leaned towards her. ‘I suppose there is nothing you can tell me that Carson won’t say?’ he whispered.

      She raised her eyebrows. ‘No special favours, you know that.’

      He smiled. ‘I missed you this morning. It was an early start.’

      Laura blushed, and then her eyes went to the front as Carson cleared his throat into the microphones. He heard her sigh. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, ‘I’ll make it up to you later.’ And when Jack looked, he thought he saw some mischief in her eyes.

      One of the cameramen looked at Laura, the trace of a smile on his lips, and then Jack noticed the boom microphone and the headphones clamped to his head. He must have heard their exchange, but he just shrugged an apology to Jack and then shifted his focus back to Carson, who was getting ready to speak.

      ‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,’ Carson said, his voice coming out with a slight tremble. ‘I will make a short statement and then answer a few questions.’ He looked at the press corps, and then read from a sheet of paper. ‘This morning, the body of a young woman was discovered in woods in Blackley. She died a few days ago. We believe that this may be connected to the death of a woman in Blackley three weeks ago, Deborah Corley, the daughter of a Blackley police officer. We are trying to confirm the identity of the dead woman, but when this has been done, we would ask that you respect the privacy of the victim’s family.’ Carson took a breath and looked around the room again, his bald head reflecting the gleam of the camera lights as he tried to catch the eye of each journalist in turn. Then he looked directly towards the cameras at the back of the room, keen to make the most of his chance to address the public. ‘We are not ready to reveal details of her murder, but I would like to say this: whoever carried out this barbaric act must be caught. If you know something, don’t keep it back. Don’t shelter this man. If you have any information that might help to catch this person, come forward.’ Carson paused to let his words sink in, and then said, ‘I will be limited in what I can say, but if you have any questions, please ask them now.’

      Someone stood up at the front.

      ‘Martin Ashton, Sky News,’ the man said. ‘Do you think this is the work of a serial killer?’

      Carson pursed his lips for a moment, and then said, ‘That term tends to overexcite. The post-mortem examination has not yet taken place, but, yes, we are looking at the possibility that the same person killed both women, if that is how you define a serial killer.’

      Someone else rose to his feet.

      ‘Ian Bramley, BBC,’ he said. ‘Both the victims are young women. Is there any other connection between them?’

      ‘That is something we will try to establish, but until we know the answer we must assume that all women will be in danger.’

      Jack scribbled some notes, and then watched as the questions petered out, each television network satisfied that they’d asked a question. Carson stood to go, and so everyone began to collect their microphones and laptops, all keen to edit the piece for the afternoon news.

      ‘I’ve got to go,’ Laura said.

      Jack grabbed her hand and pulled her close. ‘Can’t you give me a name for the dead woman?’ he said, his voice low.

      She squeezed his hand and smiled. ‘Nice try,’ she said, and then rushed to go after Carson, threading her way through the crowd.

      Jack tried to follow her, still hoping for an insider quote, or even just for a longer talk, but an officer stepped in front of him and made it clear that journalists were to be escorted out. Instead, he watched her walk away, deep in conversation with Joe and Carson, just three suits making their way through the tables of the police canteen.

      Jack sighed. One of the drawbacks of being involved with a police officer, he supposed, was that her job could sometimes be so damn important. He thought of how Laura could be when she was away from the station, fun and lighthearted, but also how absorbed she became when a big case came along. But as he watched her go, and thought of the two dead young women, their murderer still not caught, he knew that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

      Chapter Twelve

      Carson waited until they were clear of the journalists before he asked, ‘How do you think it went?’

      Laura was surprised. Carson was a brute, direct and strong, but there was a hint of self-doubt in his voice. ‘It said enough,’ she said. ‘Maybe the serial killer question will help, because it scares, and it puts the word into people’s heads without our having to use it.’

      ‘But should we have said more?’ Carson persisted.

      ‘No,’ Joe said. ‘Say too much and you risk getting things wrong. Let’s see what comes in today, and if there is anything forensic to work from.’

      Carson nodded his agreement as they headed away from the atrium and towards the Incident Room. Everyone was already lined up and waiting for them, and so Carson went straight to the front as Laura made her way to the back. The front two rows of desks were occupied by those keen to be spotted, the shirts pristine, pastel colours and bold ties, one uniform replaced by another. Joe sat behind Carson, in a corner, to observe, as always. The room was full, all the door-to-door detectives coming back for the press conference debrief, and everyone was attentive and quiet. The discovery of the body was still too new, and so no one wanted to break rank and crack a gag, although she guessed that the respectful silence wouldn’t last to the end of the next day.

      ‘Two murders in less than a month,’ Carson said, and he banged the whiteboard behind him with the flat of his hand. ‘We’ll get the blame for the second one after not catching him first time round. Remember that,’ and he pointed around the room, his finger going to each face. ‘If you miss something, you might be explaining it to the High Court, because Kinsella,’ and he jerked his thumb in Joe’s direction, ‘he reckons that this isn’t going to end here.’

      Carson looked around the room slowly. The detectives had settled into clusters, with those who had been knocking on doors separate from those who had been with the extended family and friends, and they shuffled nervously as Carson met their gaze, one by one.

      ‘So has anyone got anything?’ Carson shouted at the room, prowling along the front, his paces making the photographs taped to the whiteboard flutter as he went past.

      No one spoke at first, just exchanged glances, but then someone just in front of Laura, a small man with a crew cut and moustache, coughed and strained his neck so that he could be seen.

      ‘We did the houses that back onto the scene,’ he said. ‘It’s busy down there. The local kids use the path as a mini-moto run, buzzing round most nights. And if it isn’t them, it’s kids boozing in groups. Some of the residents have had abuse when they’ve looked out of their windows, been called paedos and things like that, and so they might not have noticed any noise.’

      ‘But if it’s busy, maybe the body hasn’t been there as long as it looks,’ Carson said. ‘We can check that in the post-mortem.’

      ‘Oh yeah, we got a call on that,’ said another voice, and a post-it note was passed forward. ‘Tomorrow morning. The doc didn’t want to rush it, so he’ll do it first thing and take as long as we need.’

      ‘Who have we got?’ Carson asked.

      ‘Doctor Pratt,’ the same voice said.

      Carson nodded approvingly, and then he pointed to the detective who’d spoken first and asked him, ‘Did anyone make you suspicious?’

      ‘From the houses?’ the detective said, and then shook his head as he

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