Part 3 (1/2)

He was holding a partially decomposed lump in an evidence bag. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a leather wallet, probably also quite an expensive one when it was bought.

'The peat has preserved this pretty well,' said Abbott. 'I can even make out a name on one of the credit cards.'

'What? There are still credit cards in there?'

'Yes. And some cash too, by the looks of it.'

'We a.s.sumed the stuff must have been thrown away by some thief when they'd emptied out the valuables.'

Abbott was silent for a moment. He gave Cooper a meaningful glance. 'No, that's not the situation we have here. It's something quite different.'

Cooper caught his breath. He knew only too well what Abbott meant. This discovery had been coming for the past two years. It had been inevitable ever since an incident one snowy night in December.

'What's the name on the card?' he asked finally.

'You could guess, I think. The name is David James Pearson.'

A light dawned on Villiers' face too, then. It wasn't just E Division who remembered the case. Carol had been serving in the RAF Police at the time. She might even have been stationed overseas a it wouldn't have made any difference. Cooper could see that the name rang a bell. The story had been in the news continuously for months.

'And did you say there was blood on the clothing?' he asked.

'We think so. I'm about to do a presumptive test, but my instincts are bristling like an angry hedgehog.'

An instinct wasn't proof of anything, as Cooper had been reminded a few minutes ago. But this was different. In this instance, he trusted Abbott's instinct. Because his own gut was telling him exactly the same thing.

'You know what this means, Ben?' asked Abbott.

'Yes,' said Cooper, with a deep sigh. 'It means the Major Crime Unit.'

4.

Detective Sergeant Diane Fry was in the outside lane of the M1 motorway when she got the call. Her black Audi was travelling at just over seventy miles an hour, pa.s.sing a convoy of French lorries occupying the inside lanes. Her CD player was blasting out one of her favourite alb.u.ms, Songs of Ma.s.s Destruction. She loved Annie Lennox's voice, always full of soul, even when rocking on 'Ghosts in My Machine'.

Her fingers tapped on the steering wheel in a rare moment of relaxation. Her car was almost her only personal s.p.a.ce, the last refuge where she could escape from the tension that ruled the rest of her life.

Fry turned the CD off to take the call. While she listened to the message, she looked ahead, saw the overhead gantry signs for Junction 26, the Nottingham exit. She was pretty sure there was a link on to the A610, which would take her back into Derbys.h.i.+re.

'Yes, give me an hour or so.'

'Understood.'

She indicated to move into the inside lane and slowed for the exit. At the same time she began to reset the route on her sat nav.

'Can you send me an outline of the original inquiry?' she asked.

There was a pause. 'We'll ask the locals to give you a copy.'

'That'll do.'

She hit the roundabout and found herself stuck behind a car transporter as she filtered left towards the A610 for Ripley and Ilkeston.

'Well, maybe a bit more than an hour,' she muttered.

Fry had been with the East Midlands Special Operations Unit a Major Crime for six months now, part of the Derbys.h.i.+re contingent allocated to the new unit when the county's own Major Crime Unit was wound up.

The joint initiative was headed up by the former divisional commander from D Division in Derby. He was the man who'd expanded the city's burglary and robbery squads and introduced Operation Diamond to deal with serious s.e.xual and violent a.s.saults. He was also behind Operation Redshank, set up to target gun and gang crime after a spate of shootings in Derby that had culminated in the death of fifteen-year-old Kadeem Blackwood in 2008.

Just as importantly from Fry's point of view, this chief superintendent had joined Derbys.h.i.+re from the West Midlands, just as she had herself.

It was funny to think now how frustrated she'd felt at being co-opted into discussions about inter-force cooperation last year. At the time it had seemed to have no relevance to her own career. She'd felt as though she was just waiting for an opportunity to move back to Birmingham, something that was beginning to look less and likely among all the cuts and restructuring.

But then the regional Major Crime Unit had become a reality, as all five forces in the East Midlands disbanded their own units in an effort to save cash. Its remit was to investigate all murders and other major crimes in the region, including kidnappings.

Though murders were still few in number, they caused ma.s.sive disruption to local forces, especially in the first week of an inquiry. The regional unit meant that officers from Derbys.h.i.+re had to support their colleagues in neighbouring areas, even those as far away as Lincolns.h.i.+re or Northamptons.h.i.+re. She now had the chance to operate in towns and cities well away from the rural wastelands of the Peak District.

The Northern Command of EMSOU a MC was based in the city of Nottingham, barely more than a forty-mile drive from Edendale, yet it might as well be a world away.

Fry called her office back.

'This turn-out. Who's on the ground at the moment?'

'Local CID officers. I don't know exactly who. Do you want me to get a name to make contact with?'

'No, it won't make any difference,' said Fry. 'I'll find out soon enough when I arrive.'

Local CID. Oh well. At one time not too long ago, that could have meant her. But she knew it was always important to have local officers on scene, especially in the first days of a murder. Her new boss was very keen on the benefits of local knowledge. She'd read a newspaper interview in which he'd talked about his earlier career. He'd said that during one murder investigation he'd been approached at a crime scene by two burglars whose sentences he'd applied to have extended, but who wanted to give him information about the suspect. They'd done that just because they knew him. Personal contact created a strange kind of bond. It earned trust, even from someone you'd helped to put away for a spell.

Fry knew there were plenty of officers in the northern part of Derbys.h.i.+re who had that kind of local knowledge and experience, particularly the personal contacts that might prove invaluable.

She was on the dual carriageway now, pa.s.sing the old brewing town of Kimberley and the IKEA retail park.

'Control?' she said. 'Is Oxlow Moor located in B or E Division?'

'E, I think.'

'Okay, thank you.'

Fry sighed. Well, it would only be temporary. In the subsequent weeks of an inquiry, when more detailed forensic investigations were taking place, it wasn't so vital to have local officers involved. Everyone was trained to the same standard and used identical systems, so it wasn't necessary. A central capability resulted in a more sensible use of available resources.

Of course, it was disloyal of her to think like this, in a way. She remained employed by Derbys.h.i.+re Constabulary, though she had a new base away from the area she lived in. Her chief had said publicly that, despite his change of role, he would not be leaving Derby, which had been his family home for years.

But that was where she parted company with him. She didn't feel quite the same about Edendale.

'One last thing ...' she said.

'Yes, Sergeant?'