Free Kill Me Again by Rachel Abbott Page B

ready?’ Philippa asked, her voice quiet.
    Tom nodded, and Becky felt a lurch in her gut. In a way she felt she had no right to witness Tom’s grief, because she knew better than most how much he had suffered – silently, but without a doubt deeply – when he and Leo had split up. She didn’t look at him. She focused on the room in front of her.
    A woman lay on a table, her body covered in a white sheet. The contusions around her neck were obvious, but even in death this woman was beautiful. Her dark hair had been neatened and pulled back from her face.
    As they entered the room, Becky heard a small gasp from Tom. He stood at the doorway staring, and she drew her eyes away from the body to look at him. After a second, his eyes narrowed and he started towards the body. He stood looking down at the lovely face and for a moment it seemed as if he was going to reach out and touch her. Philippa made a move to get closer, clearly prepared to stop him before he did, but his arm dropped to his side and he just stared.
    His head dropped, and Becky swallowed a sob but couldn’t stop the tears streaming from her eyes. So intent was she on controlling herself that she almost missed his words.
    ‘It’s not her,’ he said quietly.
    ‘Sorry, Tom. Can you repeat that?’ Philippa said.
    ‘This woman looks very like Leonora Harris, but it’s not her.’
    Tom turned to face them both, his mouth smiling, but his eyes frowning, as if he didn’t know what to feel.
    ‘Oh God, Tom, I’m so sorry,’ Becky burst out, tears now flowing freely down her cheeks. ‘I was so certain. I even found her picture online and showed it to Jumbo and he agreed. I don’t know what to say to you.’
    Tom closed his eyes for a moment and then turned to Becky.
    ‘It’s okay, Becky. You did the right thing. If I’d turned up at the scene, I’d probably have thought this girl was Leo too for a moment. It’s an uncanny likeness, but there are lots of differences. The nose isn’t right, and this girl’s a bit broader in the shoulders than Leo. To me, now I’m looking properly, they look nothing like one another. But that’s because I know Leo’s face so well.’
    ‘Is there anything more specific, Tom?’ Philippa asked. ‘It would be useful to have something more tangible than “not right”.’
    ‘Leo has a small scar on her chin from a childhood accident. I’d completely forgotten about it. I only noticed it now because it’s not there – if that makes sense. I knew the moment I saw her, but if I’d had any doubts, the lack of the scar would have confirmed it.’
    For a moment, the room was almost silent, the only sound an occasional sniff from Becky.
    Then Philippa straightened her spine and turned to Tom. ‘Right,’ she said briskly. ‘Let’s get on then, shall we. She’s all yours now, DCI Douglas. Let’s find out who the poor woman is and discover what happened to her. Get an artist to do a picture wearing the shirt she was found in. It’s very striking. I’d like a report by the end of the day, please.’
    With that, she turned and marched purposefully out of the door, leaving behind her a room rocked by emotion. Tom looked dazed, and Becky could only imagine how he must have geared himself up for the pain of seeing somebody he cared about on that table. She felt an immense weight of guilt – she had caused this man so much distress and didn’t know how to put it right. She stared at him, waiting to see his reaction.
    Tom held out an arm. ‘Come here, Becky,’ he said. ‘I think we both need a hug.’
    He gently pulled her towards him and held her close. She buried her head in his shoulder, slowly putting her arms round his waist, gradually tightening them to try to stop the shaking.

13
    The snow provided Maggie with a perfectly valid reason for not going to work, and she was relieved that it hadn’t been necessary to invent some lame excuse. She certainly didn’t want to tell her colleagues what