Page 23 of The Unforgiven

I grinned.

We parked about a third of a mile from the co-ordinates from the crime scene, a selection of hurriedly parked cars abandoned, and then a crime scene tape already erected. The weather had still been wet, but not like it was when we found Chelsea’s body.

“I can’t let you through, I’m afraid.” A very young and nervous looking PC guarded the entrance.

“And why’s that?”

I rolled my eyes. Nick enjoyed winding up baby police officers.

“It’s a crime scene, sir, and it’s authorised personnel only.” The officer stood a little taller.

“What’s happened? Can you tell us? I might be able to help.” Nick’s grin was too, too friendly.

“I’m sorry, sir. If you think you may have any information then please speak to my colleague over there.” He pointed to a van, the back doors open.

I rustled in my pocket and pulled out my badge. We had a body to get too.

“Detective Sergeant McCallister and this idiot is DS Nick Sweeting. Sorry he’s wasted everyone’s time – can you let us through?”

The baby officer nodded and raised the tape, stuttering an apology.

I told him it wasn’t necessary as we headed along the path that dropped down towards the river, the sound of the heavy flow of water tumbling over the weir clearly audible.

Jenna Osei was on her hands and knees, blocking the path while she looked at something. “Put shoe coverings on, please. We don’t know which way the vic got down here yet so we’re trying to preserve as much as possible.” She rummaged in the pocket and handed me two packets of them.

I gave one to Nick and then put my own on. “I can’t believe how dry it is under the trees.”

“It is here, but not near the path. It looks like she’s gone over the weir and ended up stuck, so we’re widening the cordon to find the entry point. Dr Miz is on her way.” Jenna stood up, pointing to an area to one of her team who’d just appeared. “Soil samples from there, then manage the rest. I need to go back to the body.”

We walked down with her, noting the thickness of the shrubbery and trees, even though nothing was fully in leaf. The water crashed, not that far away, and I winced thinking what state the body would be in, if it had ridden down the rapids of the weir.

It was easy to spot the area we were focusing on due to the number of people already there. Wrigley was talking to Jenna’s second-in-command, Tom Smithson, his back to the river and reviewing the path. Tom had been in the Navy before joining CSI a few years back, so I assumed they were discussing the flow of the river.

I walked over to the edge of the path, the drop down not too step, leading to a wider and probably shallower part of the river, a bank of reeds reducing the flow here, although the water looked fast beyond that point, where there was nothing in its way.

CSI were down there, one person taking photos, another collecting water samples. The body floated face down, hair that might’ve been dark because it was wet splayed out around her head. She was clothed, a coat visible, but it was still easy to see what’d probably killed her.

A dark stain covered the back of her light green coat, the material slashed where the stain looked darkest.

She’d been stabbed.

“Afternoon, good people.” Dr Miz announced herself, her assistant following behind, carrying most of her equipment like a reluctant husband on a shopping trip.

“Saira,” Wrigley said, giving her a nod. “Not the best of places to be recovering a body, but at least it’s not currently throwing a monsoon.”

“This is true.” She started to give her instructions, Jenna advising her of the conditions and what’d already been done. The two of them were friends outside of work, joining up to go urban exploring, trawling through various abandoned buildings.

I watched as Dr Miz tracked down the smooth path, lacking any vegetation. I was pretty sure this wasn’t the entry point for the body; that would be further upstream, but upstream where we wouldn’t know – it’d been footwork along the path. The river travelled underground, beneath the Merseyway Shopping centre, and carrying on under the M-Sixty to its source where the other two river met to form it.

There was every chance our new victim had joined the river further along. This could be another forensic nightmare if she didn’t enter the water close by.

We’d get more information from the post-mortem. Dr Miz would be able to tell us roughly how long the body had been in the water, if she drowned or the wound on her back was fatal, and what damage had been caused from the river itself.

Dr Miz had put on waders, already in waterproof clothing, which I guessed was going to be the trend for the new forensic season, wading out to where the body was caught. The power of the water over the weir meant I couldn’t hear the conversation between them. It felt like I was watching a film, but the sound wasn’t working properly, just white noise.

“I think we might have ourselves a second victim.” Wrigley’s sudden presence made me jump.

“There are too many similarities, or we’re forcing a pattern that isn’t there. Stabbed, left in water, remote spots that are close to civilisation. They knew the areas where they were doing this, the locations are just under seven miles apart, so - ”