Free Cruel Justice (DI Lorne Simpkins (Book one)) by Tania Mel; Tirraoro Comley Page B

crossed the short distance to his desk. "The river police have just picked up a black bag in the Coll River. It contained a right arm."

    "Shit, tell them to get the bag over to Arnaud's office right away."

    "There's something else." He looked perturbed.

    "What?"

    "The desk sergeant says a girl was reported missing last night in the vicinity of Chelling Forest."

    "It could be a coincidence, Pete. Get the details and we'll follow it up later."

    As Pete continued his conversation with the desk sergeant, Lorne headed for her office. Like Pete, she feared the day had suddenly spun off in an ominous direction. Is it a coincidence? Or could they have yet another murder on their hands? Could they be dealing with a serial killer?

     She hunted in her drawer for the packet of Nurofen she hoped would ease the throbbing pain in her head. If she did something about it now she'd be able to handle the strain of the conference far better.

    Oliver Greenaway arrived bang on ten. Considering he'd just lost his mother he appeared to be holding it together remarkably well. They left for the mortuary immediately.

    Thankfully, Arnaud insisted he couldn't let Oliver view his mother's body, it just wasn't the 'done' thing. That's when his resolve crumbled. Collapsing into a chair, he cradled his head in his cupped hands and cried, repeating the same words over and over.

    "Why Mum? Tell me why someone would do this to her? She was the kindest, most caring person who ever lived. I'll get the bastard if it's the last thing I do, I'll get him. I'll make sure he suffers the way he made her suffer."

    Lorne stepped forward to comfort Oliver but Arnaud caught her arm. He was accustomed to such reactions and knew this was an important part of the grieving process some distraught family members had to go through.

    It made her realise how much she cherished her own parents and made a mental note to give them a ring as soon as she could. She felt even guiltier when she realised that because of her recent heavy work schedule, it had been a month since she had last contacted them.

    Lorne took Oliver to the canteen for a much-needed cup of coffee. Pete caught up with them ten minutes later.

    "Boss, the conference is due to start."

    "Are you sure you're up to this, Oliver?" Lorne asked.

    "Would you be, if that was your mother lying in the mortuary?" He'd barely uttered a word since breaking down.

    "I think it would be good if you came along, but it isn't obligatory. The choice is yours."

    "I'll be fine, I want that bastard to see how he's destroyed me and what's left of my family," Oliver said, his fighting spirit quickly returning.

    The Chief Inspector opened the conference then handed over to Lorne. She went over the suspected times, dates and places of the crime and called for any witnesses to come forward to help with their enquiries. She purposely neglected to inform the media of any injuries Belinda had incurred.

    Then it was Oliver's turn. For a moment he hesitated, searching for the right words. But as he became more comfortable in front of the camera his tone grew more aggressive. "Help the police find the bastard who did this. Who knows, your mother, sister or wife could be this maniac's next victim!"

    It was a cry from the heart, which Lorne knew was sure to strike a chord with the viewers.

    After the conference, Oliver accompanied the two detectives to his mother's home. The house was more like a mansion, situated on an exclusive estate on the outskirts of the village of Bournley. The tree-lined drive was an indication of the grandeur they were about to encounter. Landscaped gardens surrounded the immaculate White House.

    "My dad was fascinated by the American Presidential home," Oliver enlightened the two detectives.

    "You don't say!" Pete said, picking his chin up off the path.

    "Why on earth did your mother continue living here after your father died?" Lorne was awestruck by the sheer size and elegance of the property.

    "She