Lost Souls by Jenny O'Brien (android e book reader txt) 📕

leave it barely touched? The rest of the room showed the distinct mark of someone that was house proud. It didn’t fit that Barbara Matthews would leave a dirty mug on the draining board unless she had to.

Making one of the snap decisions that she was famed for, Gaby pulled out her phone and speed-dialled the station. She had very little to go on, certainly nothing of any substance, but that had never stopped her from calling for help. A pair of shoes. A mug of cold tea. A few dishes piled up neatly at the end of the table and a fridge full of award-winning cheeses. Call it instinct or sheer bloody-mindedness but she knew that something had happened to Barbara Matthews. The only problem was she had no idea what.

The CSIs took half an hour to arrive but within minutes of the plain white van pulling up outside the property, the bungalow was surrounded by an army of paper-suited personnel, with only part of their faces visible under their drawstring hoods.

‘Do you ever go home, Jason?’ Gaby said, recognising the sparsely framed, senior CSI by his distinctive green eyes and friendly smile.

‘Hah, chance would be a fine thing. I’ve nearly forgotten my address since you joined the team, Gaby,’ he replied, his broad grin taking the sting out of his words. ‘So, what is it to be this time? Another serial killer or just an isolated dead body?’ he said, making reference to the recent cases that had pushed them to the limit.

‘I hope neither,’ she said with a smile, propping her elbow on the door of the van while she waited for him to hand out the clear plastic boxes that contained their equipment. ‘What I really want is for it to be a huge false alarm and for Sherlock to drag me into the office tomorrow and give me a rollicking for wasting police resources on an unwarranted call-out.’

‘There’s been one or two of these missing old people over the last year or so though. Is that what you’re thinking?’ he said, falling in beside her as she walked back inside the property.

‘To be honest I’m not really thinking anything apart from finding her as quickly as possible so that I don’t have to deflect any resources away from Ellie’s disappearance.’

‘There’s no news on that front?’

‘Not even a dickie bird. Poor old PC Carbone has been searching through CCTV for most of the day and all she’s come up with is an image from near the girl’s home. It’s as if Ellie has disappeared into thin air.’

‘Or something’s happened to her?’

She stared across at him. ‘Yes, well, obviously we can’t rule that out but I’m hoping not. We’re exploring all scenarios and sadly that has to be one of them.’

Standing in the small hall, shoulder to shoulder, Gaby watched him scan the area, his team milling about waiting for instructions. There was something in the way he stooped down to stare at the floor and where it met the plain white skirting board that reaffirmed her suspicions.

She’d long suspected that Jason Moore was as intuitive as he was clever. She’d never come across a CSI quite like him despite her varied employment history of appointments in Liverpool, Cardiff, Swansea and now St Asaph. He seemed to spend more time looking than he actually did doing but still managed to find an array of extraordinary evidence that even somebody with Gaby’s extensive experience would have missed.

‘So, what have you found, if anything?’

‘I haven’t found anything as such.’ He returned to his feet, his gloved hand slipping a clipboard out from under his arm. ‘Nothing that will be of any use to you, yet. But what I will say is, it’s a good job that it’s the end of the day and not the beginning.’

‘I’m not with you?’

‘Perfume, Gaby. I never wear aftershave at work and any scent that you might have been wearing will have long worn off by now.’ He strolled into the lounge, Gaby trailing behind him. ‘As you know, one of the prerequisites of this job is having a discerning nose. All I’m prepared to say is that what I smelt when I walked into the hall wasn’t what I’d been expecting,’ he said, starting to write on his clipboard. ‘For an upmarket property such as this there should be an undertone of polish and perhaps a hint of the owner’s unique body odour, be that perfume or whichever hygiene products they use like soaps, shampoos, deodorants or even washing powder. But death leaves a scent too, as anyone who’s ever had the grim pleasure of attending an autopsy will attest. I’d almost be prepared to swear under oath that blood has been spilt – I’d hazard large volumes of the stuff for it to leave residual particles in the air after, what is it, six hours or so since she was last seen?’

Gaby’s lids shuttered closed. She’d never been comfortable when conversations veered towards the gritty reality of blood, and thoughts of the amount Jason was talking about caused her to weaken at the knees. She wasn’t a wuss, far from it. But she’d had an early start to the day and not much to eat. She filled her lungs with air and finally met his gaze, her mind returning to the case that Jax had been talking about earlier: the disappearance of Miss Jane. Two missing pensioners and not one clue between them. The only difference being that with Mildred Pennyworth raising the alarm so quickly, the scent of blood hadn’t had a chance to dissipate. Any more cases and she’d have to call in additional staff. She might still have to.

Thoughts of the missing girl took precedence but she couldn’t ignore the facts. She dug in her pocket, pulled out her mobile and tapped in DCI Sherlock’s number. After this call, she’d phone Rusty, deliberately pushing aside all the reasons why she shouldn’t be thinking of embarking on a relationship with