Page 38 of The Unforgiven

“I was expecting you about four years ago.” Because that was when we’d last meant to meet up, but he’d up and gone to North Carolina to complete some course and stayed there, for reasons unknown, because my half-brother liked to be off the grid, especially if Stan was on it.

“We need to catch up.” He looked older, maybe he’d put weight on. “But more importantly, we need to get this body out of the water.”

He was wearing his forensics suit, covered overalls to stop any trace from him getting onto the body. We’d never had the conversation why either of us were doing the jobs we were doing, because since we’d known of each other – I was twenty-four when I found out about him, and he was twenty-nine – we’d spent approximately five hours in each other’s company in total.

We’d avoided each other, or he’d avoided me. Maybe it’d been best that way, but if he was standing in for Dr Miz while she got as far away from Vinny as possible, we were going to be attending at least one post-mortem together.

“What’ve we got?” I asked, peering into the river where I could see a face emerging from the water as it flowed.

“Dr Venn, Dr Osei just wants to send up the drone, are you okay if - ” one of the techs looked like she’d just met her favourite hero as she spoke to him.

“Yeah, Jenna can carry on. Rain’s forecast to start in under an hour so we need to get a shift on.” He looked at me and half-grinned again. “I should probably have given you the head’s up that I’d relocated here.”

“Probably. “I was grinning too, inappropriate for a crime scene, some would say, but there were no passersby to witness it.

We were situated on a remote embankment, around fifty metres away from a lesser-used stretch of tow path, just below Deansgate Way, with enough vegetation around to be shielded. The ground below foot was muddy and slippery with the recent flood, the river water having gone down rapidly in the last few hours as the rain had stopped, and the temperature had increased slightly. Near to us, slightly downstream, was a collapsed footbridge, some of the structure resulting in the water moving differently than it would’ve done.

“Anyone know when the footbridge collapsed?” I asked, looking around.

“The woman who called it in may do. She’s waiting to speak to someone to give a statement,” Jenna said, now stood next to Dr Nathaniel Venn, forensic scientist and my half-brother. They’d clearly met before, although I might never find out how. Jenna was just as much a closed book as he was.

I looked around, as if I was expecting to see the dog walker who’d not had the morning she’d hoped. The area was an overgrown, tangled mess of scrub trees and weeds, starting to grow back from winter even though it was only early April. Nettles and wild garlic grew, some of it flattened from feet and dogs, graffiti on exposed concrete pillars above spoke of names and tags and bands and messages created to enlighten the masses of Manchester and Salford.

Overhead, a grey sky loomed, faint whisps of white cloud weaved through it, like smoke declaring a new pope for a grey city, one who would deliver music for the masses and proclaim everything to be alright,our kid.

The body was semi-submerged, the side of her face visible in a shallow inlet near the water’s edge. It was wrapped in builder’s tarp and industrial transparent plastic sheeting, the features visible suggesting this was another female, her hair spilling into the water like feathery reeds.

She was pretty; or had been before this had happened to her. A pair of ducks took off from the other side of the river, the scene momentarily feeling still, those few seconds just before the first few drops of heavy rain begin, signifying a storm.

Nate broke the stillness by moving past me, a wetsuit now covering him, waders over his knees making him look like something from a dystopian film. Three CSIs erected a tent, maintaining privacy even though the area was remote, the pattern of movement almost the same as the discovery of Chelsea and Brooke.

We had a third. A serial killer.

A rush of adrenaline zipped through me, almost making me feel lightheaded. Serial killers were rare, almost more fiction than fact. Very few coppers got the chance to work on a serial killer case, the excitement of being about to do so, almost lanced by the singe of guilt.

Three women were dead when they should’ve been alive. They were worth more than my career.

Jenna came and stood next to me, arms folded, looking grim. “We’ve got lucky this time.”

“What do you mean?”

“The water movement’s sluggish after the flood else I think we’d have been retrieving the body in a much poorer state. If she’d have washed much further down it could’ve been weeksbefore we recovered her. But the visibility in the water’s poor. It’s full of silt so finding any evidence even from where she’s been sunk is going to be tricky.”

“She’s been sunk down with something?”

“Rocks. There are loads of pebbles wrapped in with her. The good news with this being number three, the team are now very well-practiced in removing bodies from water. Fragile skin and joint loosening – not a problem for them; floating stretchers – an everyday occurrence.” She shook her head. “I could do without another one of these. I’m listed now to be called if anyone discovers a body in the water – canals, reservoirs, rivers – in case it’s connected. We’re due good weather in a week, and I’d rather not be called out for the inevitable bodies in reservoirs when someone over-estimates their swimming capability.” Jenna wandered off, clearly not in a good mood, and headed closer to the water where pole-mounted evidence markers had been set up, a couple of CSIs in waterproof gear taking photos of the body from all angles that they could.

Someone else was cutting away reeds and other bits to allow them to move the body without it snagging, and two others were working out how to get the floating stretcher underneath.

“The tarp’s already away from the body,” one of them said. “Are we ready to go?”

“Go,” Jenna said, muttering something to my brother. “Let’s get her to shore.”

Vinny came and stood next to me, both of us watching the CSIs slightly lift the stretcher and then used the water to bear weight. “Rather them than me.”

“Absolutely.”

“Is he your brother?” Vinny pointed at Nate. “Dr Miz’s replacement?”