Read A Wreath for my Sister for Free Online Page B

corner.
    He shouted after her. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Joanna.’
    Mike was manoeuvring his car into the parking space. He watched her spin into the yard. ‘I didn’t think you’d bike it in today,’ he said. ‘Aren’t you cold?’
    â€˜Not while I’m moving.’ She laughed. ‘But I am when I’m standing around here in the car park talking to you.’
    â€˜Rather you than me. Give me a nice warm car to get to work and a comfortable gym to get my exercise.’
    â€˜Softy,’ she chuckled and chained her bike to the railings. ‘I had company today.’
    Mike raised his eyebrows.
    â€˜A rather persistent cyclist named Stuart.’
    â€˜Lucky you. I hope he was wearing padded shorts.’
    She punched his arm lightly. ‘Of course. And he was very good looking.’
    The banter with Mike was one of the things she liked most about him. It made him easy and comfortable to work with – most of the time. But Mike had his sensitive spots.
    The call came through at eight forty-five exactly. Instinctively both she and Mike glanced at the station clock when they heard the slow voice of the farmer.
    â€˜Don’t touch anything,’ she instructed. ‘We’ll be with you as soon as we can.’
    She looked at Mike. ‘Get Moorland Patrol. I want them up there as fast as they can. I want the whole area sealed off for the SOCOs and the photographer.’
    Mike picked up the other phone while Joanna took directions and asked the farmer to stay where he was.
    Then she and Mike climbed into a squad car and turned up towards the moors.
    His face was tense. ‘Do you think her car broke down,’ he asked, ‘and she got out to walk, and then got lost in the snow?’
    â€˜Let’s just wait,’ she said, but in the silence they both met their own private dreads. Bodies were not pretty things and Joanna recalled a lecture she had recently attended. Most murder investigations are bungled from the outset. Ninety per cent of forensic evidence is missed from the scene of the crime.
    She determined not to lose the thread.
    The site was marked by both the tractor and the flashing blue light of the squad car. Joanna glanced around at the fast-melting snow and thanked God for the rise in temperature. She shivered as she contemplated the idea of a someone lying out on the moors undiscovered. Perhaps a killer walking free, with no one even aware of his crime.
    PC Timmis looked grim as he walked towards the car. ‘It’s a young woman,’ he said. He swallowed. ‘I think she’s been dead a couple of days.’
    McBrine was taping off an area to one side of the road, and two constables were erecting a plastic tent. Joanna approached slowly.
    A young woman lay, arms outstretched, under the awning. She wore a sodden red dress and her hair was an unnatural shade of chestnut and thickly teased in an elaborate style. Her long legs were clad in dark tights, and she wore one pretty black high-heeled shoe with a diamanté buckle.
    And on that cold, raw day, rain dripping and melting snow trickling on the heath, she lay surrounded by stillness and the cluster of grim-faced officials.
    Joanna peered at the girl. Bruises shadowed her eyes like a grotesque parody of make-up. She had been dead for a while.
    â€˜We need a major incident team,’ she said quietly to Mike, ‘and the forensic pathologist. I’ll ring Matthew.’ The farmer was standing by to be interviewed.
    â€˜Good mornin’,’ he shouted as Joanna approached.
    â€˜I’m glad you found her,’ she said. ‘The sooner the better. I don’t suppose you recognize her?’
    The farmer shook his head. ‘Never saw her before.’ He looked at Joanna curiously. ‘When do you suppose she was put there?’
    â€˜Before the snow.’
    â€˜She been there two nights, then. It started nigh on midnight,