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

of Jason strolling through the door, his hands tucked inside the pockets of his grey, houndstooth check trousers. ‘Ah, just in time. Tell me again what you found over at Barbara Matthews’?’

‘Blood. Not a lot but fresh and therefore worrying. After you left, we sprayed with luminal, which revealed an interesting array of splatter marks. I’ve sent off scrapings for DNA analysis. She doesn’t have any living relatives that we can find but there’s enough of her forensic fingerprinting at her home to make that fact irrelevant. I’m working on the report or I would be if you hadn’t dragged me away from my desk. I hope to have it for you mid-morning at the latest.’

Gaby managed to hide a smile at the timbre of his voice. ‘So, it is possible that we have a crime scene on our hands?’

He nodded, his face without a trace of his perpetual humour. ‘Taking into account everything we know about the woman, it certainly seems that way. I have to say the impression we’re getting is that something fatal happened in the hall and the perpetrator did a near-perfect job of covering it up.’

‘But not perfect enough! Great, that’s all we bloody need, excuse the pun.’ She scanned the room, her gaze finally landing on Owen, the most senior officer on the MIT next to her. ‘I appreciate that you’re tied up with the funny business over at the crematorium but, in light of Jason’s findings, this will have to take precedence as we have no guarantee that the prosthesis wasn’t left over from a previous cremation.’

‘Actually, that’s not the case.’

‘That’s not the case?’ she repeated, her expression hardening in an instant. ‘Explain.’

‘As you know, I went to see Doctor Mulholland yesterday. He’s come up trumps with the hip joints and has confirmed that the largest two belonged to our very own Duncan Broome, which is what we were expecting. But you’re not going to believe who the final prosthesis belongs to.’ Owen paused a second for effect. ‘None other than our missing person from last year, Katherine Jane.’

Gaby squeezed her eyes shut a moment, again regretting her lack of breakfast as her stomach lurched underneath her second favourite navy trouser suit, bought for a song in Zara’s Christmas sale. To have to head up a possible murder inquiry on low blood sugar was bad enough. She couldn’t believe her misfortune at having another complex case thrust into their laps. Most weeks were quiet, the odd arrest for B-class drugs and the issuing of ASBOs the sum total of their day-to-day activity. Now, in addition to having a missing girl and a missing OAP, they also had a murder inquiry on their plate.

Her eyes snapped open, instinctively searching and finding Amy’s, her look of compassion and understanding clear underneath her overlong mousy fringe. Thrusting her shoulders back, Gaby returned her slight nod. Amy knew more than anybody Gaby’s experience in managing multiple complex investigations. She’d manage all three cases, even if it killed her. Gaby was also experienced enough to know that it very well might.

‘Right. It seems as if our workload has just trebled with Katherine Jane’s body part turning up at the Welsh Hills Memorial Gardens in addition to Barbara Matthews’ disappearance. However, Ellie Fry is our priority. Miss Jane, a year missing, is well past saving but, if the CSIs are to be believed, and I can’t for a minute think that Jason has got it wrong, then with Mrs Matthews we have a murder inquiry on our hands.’ She turned to Owen, making a rapid decision. ‘I want you to put a task force together to concentrate on Katherine Jane and Barbara Matthews because I have a feeling that we’re going to find out that they’re linked. There can’t be that many spinsters floating around Llandudno without a relative to their name and that’s where I’d like you to start. If I’m wrong, I’ll take full responsibility. I’ll also have a word with the DCI to see if he’s happy for Diane to stay with us a little longer but co-opt people in as you see fit, obviously running it by me first.’

Gaby had expected ructions and all she got was a grim smile, which was barely a smile at all – it certainly didn’t reach his eyes. Owen liked to be at the centre of an investigation and had all of the skills needed for what was now an international hunt for the missing child. But the new lines around his eyes and a return to his previous pallor, despite the blistering sunshine, told her without him having to say a word that he still hadn’t reached full equilibrium following the last case – a case that had put his whole family at risk. Being the boss was never tougher than in situations such as this, the right decision for the team often being the wrong one for at least one of its members. She’d have to make it up to him – she had no idea when or how.

With another deep sigh she swivelled on her low-heeled loafers. ‘Come on, Marie. Here’s betting that Janice Stevens has had the best of nights all topped off by a spa bath and a large bowl of the custodial sergeant’s finest muesli! We’ll meet back here at one unless something crops up to change that. I’ll ask the canteen to provide sandwiches.’

Chapter 32

Jax

Tuesday 4 August, 8.40 a.m. St Asaph Police Station

Jax was the youngest member of the team. At twenty-six, he was resigned to being allocated the most menial of jobs like dog walking and the checking out of CCTV footage, which was all very well but they weren’t the sort of tasks he’d anticipated when he’d started working towards his detective exams. They certainly didn’t leave him with any feelings of contentment of a job well done. That was until Gaby had decided to shake things up and put him in charge of the air and sea