The Rift by Rachel Lynch (good book recommendations txt) 📕

stretch. She guessed some people didn’t need it. His mind was hard-wired to whatever was coming next.

‘Is it up here?’ he asked. ‘I guessed because of the number of police.’

‘How did you get in?’ she asked.

‘I know some of them,’ he replied.

She shook her head. Of course he did. ‘Come on, it’s up here. You’ll have to suit up,’ she said.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever been inside an active crime scene before,’ he said.

‘First time for everything. The dogs are due any minute, so I hope you haven’t been handling firearms this morning,’ she said and winked.

Sniffer dogs used for bodies were different breeds to those used for firearms or bomb detection and disposal. He feigned a smile and nodded to the back of her pants, where he knew she carried a Glock. She tapped it and led the way up the stairwell.

A forensic officer checked Helen’s ID and gave them both masks, plastic over-suits, shoe covers and gloves. They both turned at the sound of dogs barking and went inside to make room for the newcomers. Inside, the flat was almost completely stripped, if ever it had been furnished at all. Helen had already read the inventory, and it was sparse. The weapons had been taken to a special military facility outside Lyon for forensic firearms testing. DNA swabs were circled in blue, numbered evidence cards were laid out on the floor and counter surfaces and plastic-covered areas like the toilet, kitchen sink and TV were all items well used. She didn’t envy those lab workers who dealt with bodily fluids all day long, but whatever floated your boat, she thought.

She approached the forensic officer in charge and spoke through her mask. He’d ordered thermal imaging cameras and a carbon-dioxide sensory kit, which should be here soon, he confirmed. Helen walked around, aware that Grant was close behind her. She tapped the walls, feeling for cavities, and went to the bathroom, realising that both the shower panel attached to the wall, the airing cupboard door, as well as a tiny door to a cupboard at floor height had been removed. She bent down and shone her miniature torch into the cupboard. She crawled inside and sat in the tiny space. It was large enough for perhaps two people and Grant hovered at the gap, on his knees.

‘Shhh,’ she told him, putting her fingers to her lips. He sat silently and watched her. Her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, and she looked around. Wooden panelling was roughly hammered onto the walls and a few rugs were scattered on the floor, numbered with markers for evidence, which she avoided carefully. She began tapping the wooden panels.

The sound of dogs panting took her attention away, and she and Grant listened as they came to the bathroom. ‘In here,’ she said. Grant got up and allowed the officer handling the dog to enter the tiny space. The dog seemed excited and went straight to Helen. She sat still, not wanting to distract it. It began to bark and Helen jumped, startled by the volume. The handler let it go, and it disappeared behind her, Helen spun around and the officer peered inside. The dog barked continuously now. It headed for one of the wooden panels and sat down.

Helen crawled towards it. ‘Boy or girl?’ she asked the handler.

‘Girl, she’s called Keekoo.’

‘Good girl, Keekoo! What have you found? Grant, get me something to get through wood, but carefully,’ she asked.

‘A wrench?’ he asked.

‘Smart arse,’ she replied. She waited, her ears deafened by Keekoo’s bark. The handler had crept in also, and knelt beside the dog, praising her and giving her treats.

‘What does it mean?’ Helen asked.

‘She’s trained to sit still and bark when she finds a match,’ he said.

‘A match as in the body was here or is here?’ Helen asked.

‘Either.’ The handler was calm and stroked Keekoo, who looked pleased with herself. Helen always believed that dogs were capable of smiling. Compare the picture of a miserable one to one that is loved, and it’s obvious. Keekoo was loved. She panted and her tongue lolled as the corners of her mouth curled up. Helen petted her.

Grant returned with a wrench and she took it, rolling her eyes at him. It was about the only part of her body he could see.

‘Thanks.’

She crawled behind Keekoo, who nosed her hand towards the panel.

‘Good girl,’ Helen soothed.

She used the heel jaw to grab a nail and closed the nut. She yanked it out and went on to another, and another, until the whole thing came off. Dust flew everywhere and Keekoo went crazy, charging into the space.

‘Grant, get a medic up here now!’ she shouted from the tiny space. He hesitated for a moment, but she communicated her urgency to him silently and he got it. He left. She turned her attention back to where Keekoo had disappeared. The dog had stopped barking and Helen heard what could only be described as a whimper. Helen hoped the dog wasn’t hurt, there must be all manner of broken wood and old rusty nails in there. She called to her gently, squinting in the darkness. There was no doubt they’d found some kind of sealed-off eaves, but the whole flat must be surrounded by botch jobs covering old roof space, as the buildings grew exponentially on top of one another. It was like a hidden cave.

She could see Keekoo now, sitting; panting, and whining ever so gently. Helen crawled towards her in the dark. She could hear the concerns of the handler behind her: there was only room for one. Helen concentrated on getting to Keekoo. Out of the darkness, next to the dog, Helen spotted a lump. She inched closer, on all fours, carefully moving obstacles in her path. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she saw that the lump was a body, and the body had a face.

It was Hakim.

Chapter 51

Grant came back, followed by a medic. He wore the familiar navy-blue shirt