Read Online Critical Threat by Nick Oldham - Free Book Online Page A

establish important facts, preserve evidence or lead to the early resolution of the investigation’. He needed to sit down somewhere quietly and jot stuff down in an exercise book which would hopefully get his grey matter on the road to solving the age-old problem of any murder investigation which the manual simplistically states as ‘who killed the victim?’ and the simple problem-solving formula of ‘why + when + where + how = who?’
    Dead simple, and all made a bit easier if the victim is identified, although that should not in itself stall the investigation.
    Henry had decided there would be a murder squad briefing at 8 a.m. the following morning at Kirkham police station, from where he would run the investigation, that being the nearest decent-sized cop shop to the scene. After that, at 10 a.m. there would be a press briefing – and then the work would really begin. He sent Rik off to start making some phone calls to get a squad together.
    The mortuary office was quiet, so he decided to use this facility for a quick brainstorm. Henry had a pen and exercise book in his jacket pocket, which he spread open on the desk, and began blatting down his battle plan.
    He was enjoying the process. Mind-mapping, flow-charting, jotting down single words to spark ideas, all designed to foster the thought process. It was a stage of the investigation he loved; those few moments when it was all his; the time before everyone else and their dogs stuck their noses into the pie; the stage when it was all pure and untainted. He felt a bit like a kid at school with a colouring book and crayons, writing with one hand, the other hand curled around to stop anyone else looking at his work.
    It was engrossing work, too, and thirty-odd minutes later, he was sitting there staring into space seeking to get some inspiration from the wall in front of him.
    There was a noise as the door opened behind him. This brought him back to reality. He twisted in the chair, half hoping to see Professor O’Connell – purely for professional reasons, of course – but caught his breath and sat bolt upright when he saw who it was …
    Henry grunted and jumped out of his skin. He had dropped off to sleep, his chin bouncing down on to his chest, and had woken with a start and a shake of the head.
    A ripple of giggles came from the back of the van as he sucked back the dribble from the corner of his mouth with a slurp. He looked sideways at the sergeant.
    â€˜You might be mistaken for thinking I dropped off then,’ he said.
    â€˜No probs, boss, we all need power naps occasionally.’ She yawned and stretched in the confined space. ‘Is this going to happen or not?’ She peered at her digital watch. ‘We should’ve gone in twenty minutes ago,’ which made Henry realize he’d actually been zonked-out for at least ten.
    His eyes drooped with fatigue. ‘Dunno,’ he said, which was not the most earth-shatteringly incisive thing to say, but was about all he could muster at that time of day as he found himself suddenly very knackered. His brain was becoming spongy, starting to shut down.
    In the personnel carrier the tittle-tattle had also waned as tiredness drew a veil over everyone. Which was not good, he thought; raiding a house with a possible terrorist connection should be carried out by officers who were on the ball, not ones who were dim-witted and sloth-like because they had become fatigued from waiting around. That bred mistakes.
    He inhaled and exhaled deeply in the hope of getting some fresh oxygen into his bloodstream.
    Dawn was creeping in more quickly. Soon it would be a gallop. The sky was starting to turn a pale grey; spots of rain clicked on the windscreen.
    Unable to help it, and assisted by the slightly hypnotic effect of the rain, Henry’s heavy eyelids slid slowly closed even though he fought it valiantly …
    It wasn’t Keira O’Connell entering the office. It was