Free Steps to Heaven: A Sgt Major Crane Novel by Wendy Cartmell

chair.
    Returning to his seat, Captain Edwards eventually faced Crane, opened his desk drawer and retrieved a thin file.
    “It would appear so.” The Captain’s voice was grave. He spoke in the tone that Crane knew his Captain reserved for informing families that their loved one had been found dead. “As you know we now get updates from the computer system about cases that are being dealt with by other Special Investigation and Royal Military Police Branches.’
    “Yes, sir.” Crane knew all about it. The Special Investigations Branch were still able to work with paper files, as it was a procedure everyone knew and loved, but certain members of the team were now tasked with putting reports and details of crimes, offenders and victims onto the new computerised system. It was a pain in the arse, but the powers that be said it could help in current and future investigations and maybe even help solve cold crimes. It was the result of the recommendations of a Report written in 2006 after a voluntary inspection of the SIB.
    Clearing his throat, the Captain continued with his explanation. “It would appear there has been a murder followed by suicide in somewhat similar circumstances on another garrison.”
    “What the?” Crane exploded from his chair, nearly knocking it over. He paced the office, unable to keep still. Wheeling around he asked, “Where, when, how?”
    “Colchester. A week ago. A soldier named John Sergeant killed his wife and five year old son by cutting their throats and then committed suicide.”
    “Jesus.” This piece of news made Crane sit down. “Jesus,” he repeated, running a hand through his hair down to his neck, where he tried to massage away the shock and horror.
    “Exactly, Sergeant Major.” Edwards looked washed out; all the colour drained from his arrogant face, which didn’t look haughty anymore. “Here’s a copy of the file. I think it may be worth you taking a trip to Colchester, don’t you?” Edwards pushed the file across the desk to Crane. “In there are all the details we have at present. I’ll leave the arrangements to you. Report to me when you get back.”
    “Yes, of course, sir. Thank you, sir.”
    Crane left the office at a run.
    ***
    He was on the road within the hour, after calling Colchester, Tina and then collecting an overnight bag. When he left the M3 and joined the M25 he settled into the journey. Showers of rain mean the wipers were on intermittent and their regular rhythm and the hiss of tyres on wet tarmac soothed him, allowing his mind to process the little information he had at present. He knew that by the time he got to Colchester he would have to be focused, thorough and professional. He couldn’t afford to let emotions get in the way.
    Crane recognised that under normal circumstances, dealing with a murder case wouldn’t touch him so personally. He was a soldier after all, trained to follow orders and not question or react to situations, merely do his job. As he went through the Dartford Tunnel, his thoughts turned darker. Crane was disturbed by the fact that children were involved. As far as he was concerned, innocent children should never be subjected to that kind of horror. He was now very angry that another child had suffered a similar death. As he drove out of the tunnel, into bright sunlight, he sharpened that anger into a determination to solve the murders. He hoped that the two cases combined might reveal clues otherwise hidden, so he could make sure no other child, wife or soldier, lost their lives.
    Skirting the city of Colchester, he made his way to the garrison. From his knowledge of military history, Crane knew that Colchester had long had a military presence, starting with the Romans who built the first military garrison there in 43AD. Since then various factions had fortified the town and it was extensively used in both world wars. Previously located in the centre of the town, the garrison had moved to a brown field site just outside