Free Fifty Two Weeks of Murder by Owen Nichols

excitement below. She made her way to the same van that Barry had requisitioned earlier and saw Ben getting into a new set of coveralls.
    “Hey Ben,” she said, grinning as he spun on his heels to greet her, his lanky frame twisting to accommodate the sudden movement. He brushed a mop of hair from his eyes and smiled a welcome.
    “Hi Anders,” he said, his voice surprisingly deep and strong. “Enjoying your first day?” Anders gave a wry chuckle.
    “Thought you’d still be at the Common, processing the Crucifixion.” Ben shook his head and the mop of hair drifted back over his eyes again.
    “I’ve got SCO on it now. I’ve done enough there that even they can’t muck it up. Mal wanted us here.” SC+O were the Specialist Crime and Operations Unit of the Met and consisted of the Major Investigations Team. Had McDowell not set up this specialist task force, then they would have been handling this case. They were an excellent unit, but Ben worked on a different plane to most of his colleagues. He turned back to the van and started unloading more equipment, Anders helping him with some of the heavier gear.
    Once they’d finished, Helen walked round the corner and Ben blushed wildly as he saw her. She’d clearly been on a date and wore a figure hugging dress and heels that were even taller than her usual. Anders chuckled as Helen approached, a scowl on her face.
    “On a date Helen?” she asked. “Anyone interesting?”
    “It was about to get interesting,” she grumbled as she sat on the back of the van and pulled off her shoes, the hem of her dress riding up to reveal the tops of her stockings. Helen noticed Ben glancing at them and winked at Anders. “I guess this case is really going to interfere with my sex life. A woman has needs you know.” Ben blushed further as he reached into a box to get out his forensics kit and Helen couldn’t resist teasing him further.
    “If I don’t get my fix regularly, I just get cranky,” she said with a grin. Anders joined in gleefully.
    “There’s always that twixt works on batteries,” she replied and Ben dropped his case, spilling powder on the street. Helen sighed theatrically.
    “True, but they never last long enough!” She guffawed with laughter, but soon took pity on Ben and helped him gather up the equipment, fussing over him like a mother. Mal exited the shop as they worked and gave them a curt nod. He looked tired and obviously hadn’t been home yet. Under his coverall, Anders could see the same shirt and jeans that he’d worn the day before. When he spoke, Anders could hear the tiredness in his voice.
    “Sorry for calling you out at this time of night, but it looks like Crime and Punishment in there.” Anders took off her jacket and tossed it into the back of the van as Mal spoke. She stepped into some coveralls and pulled them up over her legs, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her top showed the scars that ravaged her back. She was turned away from the crew and Helen gave her a smile, both sympathetic and sad. A look of sorrow crossed Mal’s craggy features and he quickly averted his gaze as Anders zipped up the coverall and turned around.
    “Didn’t take you for a fan of Dostoevsky,” she said, unaware of the stir her back had caused.
    “A-level English,” he said. “My teacher’s favourite book.” Anders smiled and put some headphones in her ears. Selecting an album at random, she gave Mal a nod and stepped into the antiques shop as “A Feather on the Breath of God” played from her phone. After she left, Helen looked to Ben, who shrugged.
    “Most likely some form of strategy training to effectively recall information from a crime scene.” Mal gave him a strange look, but he carried on regardless. “I’d imagine she’s combining episodic free recall with cued recall using the music to stimulate the medial temporal lobes for conscious recollection coupled with the posterior midline region for imagery. She’s most likely creating a