seriously. She thought she remembered reading somewhere that a person wasn’t officially considered missing until they had been gone for a week, but there was no point in lying.
‘Friday. We were in Camden, and she just disappeared.’
She felt like crying and was glad the woman at the other end of the phone couldn’t see her. The woman asked a few questions then thanked Lily for contacting them with her information, and the call ended.
There was nothing else Lily could do now but wait. She couldn’t face going into work so called in sick and then regretted it because at least work would have taken her mind off Donna. But she was genuinely sick with worry, and guilty about being so angry with Donna for not keeping in touch.
Once Lily calmed down she decided she might have been jumping to conclusions. London was a big place, and nothing like her village in Norfolk. There could be lots of reasons why Donna hadn’t come home over the weekend. Maybe it was merely a coincidence that Lily had seen the report of a dead black girl just when her flat mate had gone off for a couple of days. If Lily’s mother was right, people were killed every day in London. The dead girl could be anyone. She wondered if she should contact hospitals to see if Donna was ill or had been in an accident, but instead made up her mind to carry on as though everything was normal. The chances were that Donna would walk through the door at any moment, and Lily didn’t want to look like a nervous fool.
She fetched Donna’s clean washing and set up the ironing board in front of the television, carefully changing the setting on the iron when she picked up one of Donna’s silk shirts. When the news came on she leant forward, but there was no further mention of the dead girl. Every so often she picked up her phone and punched in Donna’s number.
‘Hi this is Donna. I’m not here right now but leave me a message and I’ll get back to you right away.’
14
WORDLESS RAGE
S am hesitated at the door to the morgue. Her face had lost its characteristic healthy glow and her expression was strained.
‘Are you alright?’ Geraldine asked with sudden understanding. ‘Not everyone can take it. My last sergeant was really quite squeamish and it’s OK - ’
‘I’m fine, really,’ Sam interrupted her. ‘I don’t mind the place. It’s all part of the job. It’s just the smell that I can’t stand, and when it’s in a confined space it gets me right in the stomach.’
She pulled out a pungent nasal decongestant stick and applied it liberally before pulling on her mask and nodding to indicate she was ready.
Geraldine gave her a sympathetic smile before slipping on her own mask. She hadn’t forgotten the horrible stench inside the forensic tent in the alley. Although she was prepared for it, when the door opened she was immediately hit by a sickening odour of putrefaction overlaid with antiseptic. Her face mask couldn’t completely block it out. She glanced back at the sergeant who was staring straight ahead.
The round shouldered pathologist, Gerald Mann, was bent over the cadaver. He glanced up when they entered, eyes bright beneath wispy white eyebrows as he nodded in recognition. He reminded Geraldine of her childhood Father Christmases.
‘What do you think?’ she asked as she approached the slab, trying not to breathe in too deeply, while Sam hung back.
‘This is not a pretty corpse, Inspector, and the circumstances of her death are frankly barbaric. We are looking at a woman in her early twenties at most, probably younger, who was beaten and left to die in her own excrement.’
‘She was chained by both her wrists and her ankles. Look here, the imprints of the links are clearly visible, quite large and made of iron not steel. There’s a residue of rust here, and again here. The flesh on her wrists was quite extensively damaged from chafing, so I’m guessing she was shackled for - ’ the pathologist broke off, frowning, ‘well, at
‘Friday. We were in Camden, and she just disappeared.’
She felt like crying and was glad the woman at the other end of the phone couldn’t see her. The woman asked a few questions then thanked Lily for contacting them with her information, and the call ended.
There was nothing else Lily could do now but wait. She couldn’t face going into work so called in sick and then regretted it because at least work would have taken her mind off Donna. But she was genuinely sick with worry, and guilty about being so angry with Donna for not keeping in touch.
Once Lily calmed down she decided she might have been jumping to conclusions. London was a big place, and nothing like her village in Norfolk. There could be lots of reasons why Donna hadn’t come home over the weekend. Maybe it was merely a coincidence that Lily had seen the report of a dead black girl just when her flat mate had gone off for a couple of days. If Lily’s mother was right, people were killed every day in London. The dead girl could be anyone. She wondered if she should contact hospitals to see if Donna was ill or had been in an accident, but instead made up her mind to carry on as though everything was normal. The chances were that Donna would walk through the door at any moment, and Lily didn’t want to look like a nervous fool.
She fetched Donna’s clean washing and set up the ironing board in front of the television, carefully changing the setting on the iron when she picked up one of Donna’s silk shirts. When the news came on she leant forward, but there was no further mention of the dead girl. Every so often she picked up her phone and punched in Donna’s number.
‘Hi this is Donna. I’m not here right now but leave me a message and I’ll get back to you right away.’
14
WORDLESS RAGE
S am hesitated at the door to the morgue. Her face had lost its characteristic healthy glow and her expression was strained.
‘Are you alright?’ Geraldine asked with sudden understanding. ‘Not everyone can take it. My last sergeant was really quite squeamish and it’s OK - ’
‘I’m fine, really,’ Sam interrupted her. ‘I don’t mind the place. It’s all part of the job. It’s just the smell that I can’t stand, and when it’s in a confined space it gets me right in the stomach.’
She pulled out a pungent nasal decongestant stick and applied it liberally before pulling on her mask and nodding to indicate she was ready.
Geraldine gave her a sympathetic smile before slipping on her own mask. She hadn’t forgotten the horrible stench inside the forensic tent in the alley. Although she was prepared for it, when the door opened she was immediately hit by a sickening odour of putrefaction overlaid with antiseptic. Her face mask couldn’t completely block it out. She glanced back at the sergeant who was staring straight ahead.
The round shouldered pathologist, Gerald Mann, was bent over the cadaver. He glanced up when they entered, eyes bright beneath wispy white eyebrows as he nodded in recognition. He reminded Geraldine of her childhood Father Christmases.
‘What do you think?’ she asked as she approached the slab, trying not to breathe in too deeply, while Sam hung back.
‘This is not a pretty corpse, Inspector, and the circumstances of her death are frankly barbaric. We are looking at a woman in her early twenties at most, probably younger, who was beaten and left to die in her own excrement.’
‘She was chained by both her wrists and her ankles. Look here, the imprints of the links are clearly visible, quite large and made of iron not steel. There’s a residue of rust here, and again here. The flesh on her wrists was quite extensively damaged from chafing, so I’m guessing she was shackled for - ’ the pathologist broke off, frowning, ‘well, at
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