Read Online Lifeless - 5 by Mark Billingham - Free Book Online Page A

him from beneath the gurney, or peeking around the mortuary door.
    He had final y worked out what it was that had disturbed him so much when Charlie had looked up at him in that sitting room only a few hours before. He'd seen it instantly, but it took a while before he understood exactly what it was he'd been looking at when he stared into
    that child's eyes. There, in that face, in those shining brown saucers
    beneath long lashes, Thorne had seen doubt.
    My mummy's asleep...
    The smile had been broad and beautiful, but in those eyes had been
    the tiniest flicker of something like uncertainty. The smile hopeful, but the eyes betraying a knowledge Charlie Garner didn't even know he had. Who could blame him? Now, that child could never be real y certain about anything ever again. It was too harsh a lesson and learned too early.
    And each time Thorne saw that face, the flicker of doubt grew stronger...
    When the phone on the desk rang, Thorne started a little, and on glancing at the page in front of him, realised he'd been staring at the phrase blood-spotted conjunctivae for the past half an hour.
    'DI Thorne...'
    'It's Phil. Have you read it?'
    'It's right in front of me. I've... had loads of stuff to wade through.'
    'How was Birmingham?'
    Thorne exhaled and leaned back in his chair. He should have gone
    home much earlier. Even with a smooth run back to Kentish Town, it would be ten o'clock by the time he got in. Another couple of hours to wind down meant getting to sleep late and waking up pissed off. Hendricks, by contrast, sounded relaxed. Thorne could picture him, legs up on a piece of sixties' black-leather furniture, some skinhead in the kitchen making them both dinner. 'That bad?' Hendricks asked. 'Sorry?'
    'Birmingham. Doesn't matter, tel me tomorrow. Listen, bit of good
    news. Catch the bastard, we'l put him away. There was plenty of Ruth Murray's own tissue under her fingernails, but loads of his as wel . Profile should come through some time tomorrow.'
    It was very good news. Now he would at least drive home in a good
    mood. 'No need to test those teardrops you were so excited about then?'
    Hendricks snorted. 'Nah, tel you the truth it were a fuck of a long
    shot. We might have had a chance if he'd worn contact lenses.' Thorne was intrigued. 'This sounds good...'
    'Obvious real y. A foreign body in the eye would cause a certain amount of irritation so the tear fluid would probably have contained more cel ular material. See? Even better if he'd cried out of his nose actual y...'

    'I don't want to know...'
    'It's al academic now anyway.'
    'No chance of a Nobel prize just yet then?'
    'One day, mate.'
    Thorne folded up the post-mortem report and started putting papers into his briefcase. 'Never mind, it told us something about him anyway...' There was no response. Thorne heard someone talking to Hendricks. He heard his friend's muffled voice answering, then heard the hand being taken off the mouthpiece.
    'Sorry Tom, dinner's nearly ready.' Hendricks's voice dropped to a whisper. 'Got myself a cracker here, mate. Nice arse, and handy in the kitchen. Sorry, what were you on about?'
    'The tears. I'm not sure exactly what they tel us about him, mind you.'
    'Wel , we know he was in a better mood than when he kil ed Carol Garner.'
    Thorne stood up and closed his case. He might make it home by quarter to, with a fol owing wind. 'Right...'
    'No, I mean it. Go through the report, it's obvious. He must have calmed down or something. Maybe whatever the fucker was on had worn off. It's a very different attack. The hyroid is intact, there's only minimal damage to the cartilage...'
    Then Thorne could feel the tingle. The smal curren running up the nape of his neck. Making him catch his breath. Almost sexy...
    Something that had been nagging at him was coming into focus, revealing itself. He sat down again, opened the case and pul ed out the post-mortem report. 'Take me through this slowly can you, Phil?'
    Opening the report now,