Free Missing Believed Dead by Chris Longmuir Page B

something more. However, he did not think Kate would be open to anything intuitive. She would be more into facts and evidence than gut feelings.
    She reversed out of the van. ‘Have a look and see what you think,’ she said, ‘and write a report. I’ll want it on my desk before the briefing meeting tomorrow morning.’
    ‘Yes, ma’am.’
    ‘Stay here and wait for the body to be removed. The meeting will be at 8.30am sharp. Be there.’ She strode off in the direction of the lower level where the police cars were parked.
    Bill thrust his clenched hands into his pockets to prevent himself from thumping the back of the van. Bloody woman. What made it all right for her to instruct him when she was skiving off? She was the senior officer. She was the one who should have stayed at the crime scene. He struck the side of his thighs repeatedly with his clenched fists until he cooled down, and then turned to inspect what was inside the van.
    It was just as Colin had described. The man was on his back on a mattress, his arms and legs spread out and bound by rope which was attached to iron rings embedded in the van’s floor. His skin was hairless and pale, apart from the reddened area on the parts of his body resting on the mattress. Bill knew it signified livor mortis, where gravity had ensured the blood pooled in the region of his back. The eyes were open and would have been staring vacantly upwards if it were not for the objects pressed into them. Bill leaned forward for a closer look. He could see intricate carvings on the beads and, like Colin, thought they were jade.
    The expression on the man’s face gave no indication of any suffering. His lips were curved into a smile and, apart from the beads in his eyes, Bill considered he looked peaceful. It didn’t make any sense and he wondered what kind of person could do such a thing.
    Pulling his notebook and a pencil from his pocket he made a rough sketch of the interior of the van. It might come in handy later. Then, shivering, he backed out of it relieved this part of the job was complete.
    This level of the car park was now deserted and a gust of wind whistled eerily across the empty space, drifting round his ankles, making his feet even colder than they already were. He walked over to the down ramp and leaned over the parapet at the top.
    ‘You still there, constable?’ he shouted.
    A disembodied voice answered him. ‘Yes, sir, I have to wait until they come for the van before I can go.’
    Bill nodded and returned to the van. He leaned against the side of it and chewed on the end of his pencil. It was at times like these he missed the fags and the cool feel of smoke being drawn into his lungs. But up to now he had always resisted, although he was not sure how much longer he could hold out. Spitting out the wood splinters on his tongue he dug his hands in his pockets and crossed to the edge of the car park to look out into the darkness of the night.
    By the time the mortuary van turned up an hour later, Bill was so cold he could hardly feel his hands or feet. Two men got out. The taller one glared at Bill and said, ‘You in charge, mate? Where’s this body, then?’
    Bill gestured towards the dirty white van and the other man disappeared inside it. Seconds later he stuck his head out and complained, ‘How we supposed to shift him when the bleeder’s tied to the floor?’
    Bill swore under his breath. Colin should have seen to that before he left. ‘Sorry, lads.’ He looked around to see if he could find anything sharp to cut the ropes. Drawing a blank in the front of the van, he said, ‘Don’t suppose you lads have a knife or a pair of scissors, do you?’
    ‘It’s against the law to carry a knife,’ the bigger and more aggressive man said, ‘but lucky for you I might happen to have something in the motor.’
    Bill’s eyes widened when he produced a box and opened it to reveal a large carving knife.
    ‘Before you say anything,’ he said, ‘it’s a