Free A Matter of Blood by Sarah Pinborough

imagined hidden from view. If he was in any way associated with Sam Macintyre’s firm, then his sergeant would know before the driver even realised he was getting pulled.
    Cass gritted his teeth as coffee slopped over and burned his hand. Bowman’s lot had plenty to be getting on with too. First they had to dig around in Carla Rae’s life, get an idea of who she was and how she lived, and track her last movements as precisely as possible. After that, they’d have to cross-reference all the new information with what they had for the three prior victims. What they needed were links between the four. So far, all they had in common was that they were all female, relatively poor, and now dead. Hopefully, Carla Rae’s death would give them a new piece of the jigsaw puzzle. Time would tell. Unfortunately, in any murder case, time was the killer of conviction.
    Blackmore spotted him and came over, pushing the heavy swing door from the other side. ‘Let me take that, sir,’ he said, reaching for the thick file that was wedged under Cass’s armpit. He added it to his own pile. ‘I’ll bring these up. Do you need me in with you, sir ?’
    ‘In an ideal world, yes, but in this one I need you in the Incident Room more,’ said Cass. He transferred one coffee cup to his other hand and led the way up the stairs. ‘I’ll tape what he says and give you a copy before we brief the team.
    I want you on that pentabarbitone. I want to know where our killer scored it.’
    ‘I’m on it, boss.’
    The first body had been found two months ago, and Bowman had already had the team on the phone to just about every vet, hospital and pharmacy in London chasing reports of stolen or missing barbiturates, but so far they’d come up blank. Now Cass wanted the search widened, starting with the greater London region, but going further if necessary. They knew fuck all about their killer - he could be a pharmaceutical rep or travelling salesman, or maybe a relief vet, stealing what he needed as he went. But it was more likely he’d have gone for one big steal, rather than risk getting arrested for something as ordinary as theft. Somewhere, someone was missing a substantial quantity of the drug. They just needed to find out who.
    ‘And keep on Forensics for anything the CSTs might have found in trace that links with any of the other crime scenes. You know how slack some of these techies can be - they’re not police, they’re paid by the bloody hour. Make sure they’re working.’
    ‘You got it, sir.’
    As they passed under the bright strip lighting, Cass noticed the dark shadows under the sergeant’s eyes. Maybe Blackmore wasn’t sleeping so well either. Changing to a new DI in the middle of a case like this couldn’t be easy, especially when you were sleeping with - or at least intending to sleep with - the boss’s sergeant - and not just his sergeant, but someone the DI had history with. What a bloody nightmare that must be.
    ‘And thanks for the file,’ Cass added, ‘I’ll be up to speed by the end of the day.’
    ‘You seem pretty on the ball to me, sir.’
    Cass silently wished he were. He could feel the fingers of the dead women and the two boys tugging at his clothes, demanding justice. Their touch brought a cold chill to his soul. Common as murder had become in these times when tempers were frayed and money was tight, Criminal Murders, as these they were now classified, were rare. Most killings were committed by civilians, ordinary people caught in a moment of madness, taking their frustrations out on those they loved or had grown to hate. Both these cases were different. These were calculated, beyond a quick fix. And somehow he’d ended up with both of them.
    It didn’t come as a surprise. God, if he existed, had long ago stopped being a friend to Cass Jones.
    He lifted one cup and sipped. He needed to concentrate on the here and now. His nose itched at the scent of cheap coffee. At least the dry soreness left by the strong