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‘Good morning to you both,’ Jonty said, snapping on gloves as he entered. ‘Public records have Zoey as eighteen years of age and I would concur with that. In addition, I spoke to the shelter worker who attended yesterday.’ Jonty flicked through his notes. ‘Here we are, a Miss Sandra Tilly. She explained that Zoey had complained of pain in her hands from badly reset finger fractures on her left hand. I found three old breaks, I suspect from two separate incidents in time. In addition, four healed rib fractures and a probable broken nose, although that one is always harder to be sure about.’
‘Makes sense,’ Ava said. ‘Zoey was living at the shelter having left home. She claimed that her stepfather had been violent to her over a number of years. Mother was aware but did nothing to correct the situation.’
‘There was never a police investigation?’ Jonty asked.
‘No. Zoey didn’t want to press charges because her mother was still living there,’ Ava said.
‘MIT hasn’t spoken to the stepfather or mother in person yet,’ Callanach added. ‘Uniforms went round yesterday and notified them of the death. That was before we had the full story. We wanted to get the facts from you before following up with a formal interview of the stepfather.’
‘You may want to hold fire on that. I’ve been making my own enquiries overnight, but they’ve come up blank so far. Let me show you what we’re dealing with.’
Jonty removed the sheet to reveal Zoey’s naked body. The skin on her abdomen that had peeled back and lost its form had been laid back down and repositioned to reveal an outline.
‘What the fuck?’ Ava said, stepping closer to look directly down onto it.
‘My exact words when I began laying the skin flat,’ Jonty said.
Dried blood around the incision added a freakish outline to the miniature figure cut from Zoey’s skin. A head shape had been taken from the area between her ribcages. Tiny arms spanned out to her sides and the legs extended down towards the top of Zoey’s thighs.
‘Was she pregnant?’ Callanach asked. ‘Is this supposed to represent a baby?’
‘That was the first thing I checked when I identified the shape, but she wasn’t pregnant at death, nor has she ever given birth. That doesn’t exclude the possibility that she hadn’t ever conceived and decided on a termination.’
‘In which case we might be looking for a boyfriend. Someone who resented her decision,’ Ava said. ‘You said you were doing some research overnight, Jonty. What were you looking for?’
‘Other similar cases. I found nothing, I’m pleased to say. In twenty-five years, I’ve not come across anything so outrageous. Will you help me turn Zoey over, Luc?’ Callanach stepped forward and assisted. ‘It’s exactly the same shape, cut out of the skin in her back. That would have been a more difficult procedure as the skin is tighter and there is less loose flesh.’
‘Tell me she wasn’t conscious when this was done,’ Ava said.
‘There’s good and bad news on that front,’ Jonty said, pointing at a few places along the cut line. ‘I believe she was conscious, although the likelihood is that she would have passed out quickly from shock if she could see what was happening. You can see at these two points that an outline was drawn onto Zoey before the incisions were made. The ink is still just about visible although hard to make out.’
‘What was the cut made with?’ Callanach asked.
‘A scalpel, medical grade. Easy to get hold of. We ran some tests on the skin around the edge of the incisions and have found substantial amounts of topical numbing cream. I think your murderer rubbed the cream into Zoey’s abdomen and back over several days in advance of doing this to her.’
‘They couldn’t just have killed her first?’ Ava asked.
‘Not what they wanted, apparently,’ Jonty said. ‘There are also four injection sites. I’ve sent off tissue samples to the lab and confirmation will take a couple of days, but given the proximity to the incisions,’ he pointed at tiny pin pricks at each shoulder and leg area of the cut-out shape, ‘I’d say the surgeon – and I use that term as loosely as possible – injected Zoey with a local anaesthetic before starting. Both sides have the same marks.’
‘Why bother?’ Callanach asked. ‘And before you say it, Jonty, I know that deduction is our remit, not yours. But if torture was the idea, surely there was no point alleviating the pain.’
‘As a medic, the answer is simple. If Zoey had felt the full extent of the cuts, she’d have moved her body in a way which would have made cutting clean edges impossible. Also, she’d have died from shock, I think. Her heart wouldn’t have coped. Her breathing would have suffered. The small amount of anaesthesia allowed her to live through the operation, and to make it easier to cut out the baby shape.’
‘Then the killer packed her wounds and drove her somewhere public to die?’ Callanach asked.
‘That’s where you take over,’ Jonty said. ‘The incisions were made not long before dumping her at the roadside. The wound packs wouldn’t have stemmed the blood flow for long, and the loss of an area of skin that size would have killed her sooner or later whether infection had kicked in or not.’
‘Where would the murderer have got the local anaesthetic from?’ Ava asked.
‘A contact in the medical profession. Theft from a hospital or GP surgery. Quite possibly from the internet. There are sites that specialise in providing medical supplies no questions asked, and this wouldn’t normally be regarded as a high-risk item to sell. Tracing it will be almost impossible, which brings me to the gown she was wearing when she was found.’
‘It wasn’t a dress?’ Ava asked.
‘No. It was difficult to establish at first because of all the blood, but the opening is at the back, with three ties evenly spaced from the top down, which would have given easy access to her abdomen and back as necessary. No branding or label, and a very standard cheap cotton mix material, often found in clothing transported from China.’
‘The chances of tracing its source?’ Luc asked.
‘Several thousand to one, I’d say,’ Jonty replied.
Ava sighed. ‘You said surgeon, but loosely. So is this a medical professional? What’s your opinion on the surgical skills?’ she asked.
‘It’s not butchery, but it’s not anyone who’s been trained. They made a poor job of lifting the skin away – all layers, epidermis, dermis and the subcutaneous fat. At one point the depth is one centimetre, but it thins out at the ends of the arms and legs to three millimetres. If you look closely you can see some hacking with the blade to lift the skin section out,’ Jonty said, pointing.
‘I’ll take your word for that,’ Ava said. ‘What about the restraints? I can’t see anything obvious.’
‘That’s because it was cleverly done. There’s an area of skin worn off the ankles and wrists, between two and three inches wide with no knot mark. I’m assuming a binding was used to secure the limb against an immovable object like a pole. That would explain the lack of obvious bruising. A thinner binding would have chafed. Under a microscope you can see that the binding has left green fibres on Zoey’s skin.’
‘Her captor didn’t find that out by chance,’ said Callanach. ‘Either they’ve done it before, practised, or they spent a long time researching. Any DNA or prints on the body?’
‘Not that we’ve found,’ Jonty said. ‘Your murderer wore gloves. They probably washed her just prior to cutting the skin. Obviously the lower legs, arms and face had dirt, dust and foliage on them from crawling up the road, but nothing that will help identify her captor. There’s only one other thing of note. A section of hair has been cut from Zoey’s head. The roots are intact so it wasn’t pulled out. It’s not very much, but it does beg the question why.’
‘A trophy?’ Callanach asked.
‘He’s got plenty of those,’ Ava said. ‘The killer’s already got her clothes, shoes, whatever jewellery she was wearing, possibly her handbag. Not to mention a large section of her skin. Is there anything else, Dr Spurr? I need to get back and speak to the superintendent.’
‘Only that before she was cut, she was kept comfortable. Not injured in any way. She was hydrated and still had food in her stomach. Consciously kept alive and unharmed. No sexual assault as far as I can tell,’ Jonty said. ‘Good luck with this one. Whoever did this to Zoey …’
‘Deserves to die,’ Ava said. ‘That’s all there is to it, really. They’d better hope it’s not me who finds them first.’
‘I was going to say, is dangerous in the extreme, although I can’t disagree with your sentiment, DCI Turner. There was no anger, no lack of control, no force used. It was seven days between this girl going missing and turning up again. That’s a long time for her killer to be with her, to watch her plead and cry. Hard then to cut her and leave her to die.’
‘That’s what psychopaths do,’ Callanach said.
‘This is a psychopath with an especially strong stomach and an iron will.’ Jonty stripped off his gloves and turned to go. ‘Take your time.’
Callanach waited until the pathologist was gone before turning to Ava. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked. ‘I’ve never heard you express the desire to kill anyone before.’
Ava peeled the sheet back from Zoey’s face. ‘Look at her,’ she said. ‘On the precipice between childhood and adulthood. She lived through violence, but had the strength to get out and seek help, even when her own mother failed to protect her. We know she doesn’t have a criminal record, so in spite of her childhood she kept herself from spiralling downwards. Moving into the shelter should have been the start of a new chapter. She should have been safe. And the cruellest factor in it all was that Zoey was kept alive for a whole week, unhurt. She would have had hope. No matter how dismal it seemed, there would have been a part of her that thought she would go free. Having survived so much, surely it wasn’t possible that she could die tied up and terrified. That’s what she’d have been thinking.’
‘You can’t make it personal,’ Callanach said. ‘We have to take a step back and look at this dispassionately. The stepfather has to be the best bet.’
‘It’s a hell of a jump from domestic violence, however long-term, to this,’ Ava said.
‘Maybe Zoey had decided to prosecute. Maybe the stepfather hated that she’d left and couldn’t handle it. The chances are that this was perpetrated by someone known to her,’ Callanach said.
Ava pulled the sheet further down to reveal Zoey’s abdomen. The layer of flesh below the missing skin shone greyish-pink in the bright electric lights.
‘It’s unreal,’ Ava said. ‘How do you start to conceive a torture so inhumane? Perhaps she did know the person who did this to her, and perhaps she didn’t, but this was personal. Zoey was chosen. It can’t be random because there’s a purpose to it in her murderer’s mind. Some twisted relevance.’
‘Do you want me to get straight over to the stepfather’s place now?’ Callanach asked.
‘Go to the shelter first,’Ava said. ‘It sounds as if Sandra Tilly, who identified the body, knew a lot about what Zoey had been through. Get everything you can out of her to arm yourself with. When you interview the stepfather I don’t want him to have any wiggle room at all. Speak to the other shelter residents. I want to know if she was still scared, if she thought she was being followed, or aware of any threat. Most of all, I want to know what sort of things the stepfather did to her. Then go through Zoey’s personal items. Communications, diaries, an email address might help.’
‘All right,’ Luc said.
‘Visit her stepfather, Christopher Myers, after that. Separate him from Zoey’s mother during questioning, if you can. We’ve already got enough for a search of the house. I want it inspected from top to bottom, including any loft space and the garage,’ Ava said.
‘What about Zoey’s mother?’ Luc asked.
‘I don’t know what to expect from a woman who failed to protect her child against long-term violence. She ought to be grieving. Take it easy on her. I don’t want any complaints jeopardising the investigation, but make sure she knows we have independent evidence about the violence. Perhaps suggest we might charge her with child cruelty,’ Ava said.
‘Wouldn’t work without Zoey alive to make the case,’ Callanach said.
‘We know that, she doesn’t. Scare the crap out of her off the record if you get the chance. She failed her daughter while she was alive. Perhaps now that Zoey’s dead, her mother can finally be a half-decent parent and tell the truth.’
‘You’re telling me to break the rules?’ Callanach asked.
Ava smiled tenderly at Zoey before covering her once more with the sheet. ‘I’m asking you to do whatever it takes to find the bastard who did this. When you do, I intend to put them in a prison cell and keep them there until their last breath. Even then, justice won’t have been done.’
Chapter Five
‘Brought you a coffee, ma’am. I gather you’ve just got back from the mortuary. Thought you might need a pick-me-up.’ DS Lively walked into Ava’s office and deposited a steaming mug on her desk, closely followed by an unopened packet of rich tea biscuits. Ava inspected the gifts then studied Lively’s face.
‘For fuck’s sake, Lively, tell me you haven’t killed someone in police custody,’ she said.
Lively managed to look offended for a few seconds before smiling. ‘The job’s making you cynical. Can’t a lowly sergeant bring his chief inspector a hot drink without you assuming the worst?’
‘We’ve worked together how long now?’ Ava asked.
‘I believe it’s in the region of a decade, ma’am,’ Lively said, sitting down.
‘And in that time, how many hot drinks have you made me?’ Ava continued.
‘You’re overthinking it, boss. What’s the news on the girl you found out on Torduff?’ he asked.
‘Grim,’ Ava said, ripping open the biscuits. ‘Are you expecting me to share these, only you appear to have made yourself comfortable for no apparent reason.’
‘No, they’re all yours. I’ve been hiding them at the back of a drawer to stop the other thieving gits from nicking them.’
‘That’s enough. Tell me what you’ve done and how much shit you’ve got MIT in,’ Ava demanded.
Lively reached over and plucked a biscuit from the packet. ‘It’s Detective Constable Salter. I’m worried about her,’ he said, before stuffing the biscuit into his mouth whole.
‘Has something happened, only I wasn’t notified that there was an issue,’ Ava said.
‘Without wanting to sound like a paternalistic asshole, it’s too soon. Christie shouldn’t be back on duty yet.’ He looked longingly at the coffee. Ava moved it beyond his reach before he began dunking.
‘You got injured quite badly too, on a recent case. I seem to recall you being advised to get surgery on your left shoulder, not that you took any notice. When I questioned your decision to come back to work, you said you knew your own body better than anyone else.’
‘This is different and you know it. You can’t compare losing a baby to getting your arm into a fight with a crowbar,’ Lively muttered.
‘The doctor declared Salter fit for duty,’ Ava said. ‘I’ve spoken to her. She believes she’s ready and I trust her judgment. What is it you know that no one else does?’
Lively brushed crumbs from his lap onto the floor, frowning.
‘Come on, Sergeant, you came in here to say something to me. Get it over with.’
‘Christie Salter nearly died in my arms, ma’am, on a kitchen floor after some sick fuck had taken her hostage and a dotty old woman misjudged her target and stabbed her. If the paramedics hadn’t been on the scene, we’d have lost her. She was in surgery for hours. Her baby girl died in her womb. You can’t tell me she’s fit to be back out on the streets, not with the sort of crap we deal with every day.’
‘Sergeant,’ Ava said gently, ‘you don’t think that perhaps it would be a good idea for me to refer you for some counselling, given what you went through that day? DC Salter wasn’t the only one who suffered a trauma. It must have been an appalling thing for you to have witnessed.’
‘Would you fuck off! Oh shite – sorry, ma’am, I forgot who I was talking to,’ he said.
‘Forgiven. This isn’t easy. I understand that the prospect of talking to someone about your emotions isn’t natural for the more mature members of the force, but times have changed. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about and no one need know except us,’ Ava said.
‘I don’t need a bloody shrink. I need to make sure DC Salter’s safe and right now, as her ranking officer, I’m not convinced she is,’ he replied.
Ava held out the biscuits as a peace offering. Lively took a handful.
‘All right. Your choice. But you can’t make her feel as if she shouldn’t be here, however well-intentioned you are. This is what she needs to help distract herself from her loss. You and I would both do the same in her position.’
‘If you’re keeping her in MIT, I want your word you’ll keep Salter off the Torduff Road investigation. It’s too much. I heard what a mess that poor girl’s body was in.’
‘I agree with you on that score. You picked up a face slashing, I understand. Probably a dead-end case, but it needs investigating. I’m leaving it with you and Salter. I need every other body on Zoey Cole’s murder, so don’t expect help from anyone else. Wrap it up as quickly as possible, then I’ll review DC Salter’s suitability for another case. This stays between us, all right?’
Lively stood up, nodding, as Ava’s office door opened.
‘Sit your carbohydrate-endowed arse straight back down in that chair, Sergeant,’ Detective Superintendent Overbeck said.
Lively crossed his arms and remained standing, but stayed where he was.
‘Is there a problem, ma’am?’ Ava asked her superior, who was looking stunning in a tight-fitting midnight blue suit and six-inch stilettos, with bright red nails. It was a wonder she could hold a pen or type, Ava thought, wondering if she was aware that all the police under her command called her the Evil Overlord out of her earshot, not entirely unjustly.
‘When isn’t there a frigging problem in your team, DCI Turner?’ Overbeck said. ‘I’ve just had the pleasure of being interviewed by some of those do-gooders who occasionally get to come in and visit the prisoners in their cells, just to check we’re providing five-fucking-star care for Edinburgh’s charming criminals.’
‘I think the ones in our cells are usually called suspects, ma’am,’ Lively smirked. ‘Something about innocent until proven—’
‘Sergeant, if you speak again before I ask you to, I will pour that steaming coffee on the desk all over your balls, get me?’
Lively winced and Ava did her best not to smirk. Lively was regularly insubordinate to her, and even more so to Luc Callanach. This was the first she’d seen him silenced by a superior officer and it was pleasing to watch.
‘Am I to assume there was a slip in our usual standards?’ Ava enquired.
‘To be fair, only if you call having an incomprehensible man with half his frigging face hanging off, stuck in our cells instead of being in a hospital – or preferably still on the streets given how badly he was fouling up the custody area – a slip!’ Overbeck hissed. ‘Now,’ she stood directly in front of Lively, ‘as you were the arresting officer, you’d better have the shiniest, most watertight explanation for why this has happened to me on a day when I finally got my husband on a plane for a month-long golfing vacation and was looking forward to a serious amount of alone time without anyone pissing me off.’
‘Gone somewhere nice, has he?’ Lively grinned.
‘Pass me your coffee, Turner,’ Overbeck said, holding out her hand.
‘Don’t you dare, ma’am,’ Lively said. ‘That’s the first cup of coffee I’ve ever made anyone in this police station. I don’t want it wasted!’
‘Sergeant, would you please answer DS Overbeck’s question?’ Ava said.
‘Only if she says please.’
‘Lively, you’re going to get yourself fired.’ Ava shot him an unmistakable look.
‘Stay out of this, Detective Chief Inspector,’ Overbeck said. ‘I don’t have any problem at all with your sergeant giving me a reason to fire him.’
‘Lively,’ Ava said, getting to her feet and glaring.
Lively tutted and gave in. ‘He’s a victim of crime, refused an ambulance but we need a statement from him. He’s also homeless and a drug addict. We need to question him, and the only way to stop him from disappearing was to book him as drunk and incapable, and wait it out.’
‘So you just made up the drunk charge?’ Overbeck asked. ‘Even though he actually wasn’t?’
‘That’s right.’ Lively smiled.
‘So you’ve not only broken every procedure we have in terms of custodial care of the seriously injured, you’ve also reported a false charge against him.’
‘Aye, that pretty much sums it up,’ Lively said. ‘Was there something else you wanted, or am I free to go and try to extract a statement from our guest?’
Overbeck stepped closer, her eyes level with Lively’s, their bodies forming strange polar opposite silhouettes against the window, one stick thin and the other seriously paunchy. Ava held her breath while she waited for one or other of them to concede defeat.
‘Get him out of my cells, out of this police station and preferably out of this city,’ Overbeck said. ‘Ensure not a single particle of shit is going to hit any proverbial fan, then either retire or make sure I never have cause to speak with you about this again. Do you understand, Detective Sergeant?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Happy to oblige,’ Lively said.
Callanach and Tripp parked around the corner from the domestic abuse shelter, then phoned ahead to have the back door opened up, the front door being used as little as possible to disguise the nature of the property from any save for those who needed to know. Most of the women inside were running or hiding. The police weren’t always welcome visitors, either. Too many victims had been ignored, told there was insufficient evidence to prosecute, or just plain disbelieved. Modern policing was attempting to bridge the trust gap, but that was a long-term project. There were generations of failings to make up for, Callanach thought, as he rang a silent doorbell and looked into the security camera, holding up his identification for closer viewing. Tripp did the same. Eventually the door buzzed open and they stepped through into a vestibule. A woman appeared behind the glass of an internal door.
‘Would you check that the outer door behind you is firmly locked, please?’ she asked. Tripp did so. She unlocked the inner door and let them into a wide hallway. ‘I’m Sandra Tilly, the deputy shelter manager. Would you mind coming into the kitchen to talk, only I don’t want to disturb the women in the lounge.’
‘Of course. I’m DI Luc Callanach,’ he said. ‘We don’t want to disturb anyone unnecessarily but it would help if we could see Zoey’s room. I know other officers have already been in there, but it’s useful to get a better idea of who she was.’
They walked down the corridor and entered a functional room with cupboards marked only with numbers. ‘They correspond with the bedroom numbers upstairs,’ Sandra explained. ‘The women who stay here often don’t use their real names, although Zoey actually did. She said it was therapeutic for her to feel as if she’d stopped running. Other women use pseudonyms until they feel really safe with each other. If anyone ever does manage to break in, they won’t find it easy to figure out which room they want. Zoey was in number four.’
‘Do you mind if we have a look in her kitchen cupboard?’ DC Tripp asked.
‘Sure,’ Sandra said, opening it. ‘Have you arrested anyone yet?’
‘Not yet,’ Callanach said. ‘Were you aware of anyone harassing Zoey, or trying to contact her? Any letters, emails, texts?’
‘Nothing that I was aware of,’ Sandra said. ‘A lot of the women here choose to spend a period of time in the digital dark. They get rid of their old mobile numbers, change email addresses, shut down every form of social media. This shelter isn’t for mild cases of abuse. We have limited places and it’s expensive to run. As horrible as it sounds, we only house women or girls who have suffered long-term, major-impact abuse and who are judged to still be at risk and vulnerable.’
