‘How much pressure are we talking about?’
‘You’d need a lot of pressure to obstruct the flow and we can tell that took place by the injuries to the soft tissue in the neck,’ she pointed to the relevant places on the images.
‘Could a woman have done this?’ Matilda asked.
‘I’m not answering that question,’ Claire said. ‘However, bear in mind the victim here is a nine-year-old girl. She’s young, slim, and wouldn’t take much overpowering.’
‘You’re thinking the mother could have done this, aren’t you?’ Adele asked.
‘I’m afraid I am,’ Matilda eventually replied.
‘Why?’
‘We’re getting a lot of information that Craig and Linda might not be the perfect parents they’re making themselves out to be.’
‘There’s no such thing as the perfect parent,’ Adele said. ‘We all just make it up as we go along and hope we’re steering our kids on the straight and narrow.’
Claire shivered. ‘How a parent can kill their own child is beyond me.’ Her voice began to break. ‘Excuse me.’ She stood up and left the room without making eye contact with Matilda and Adele. The door slammed behind her.
‘Is she all right?’
‘Claire can’t have kids. She had ovarian cancer in her early twenties. She told me once – years ago – that all she wanted when she was young was to be a mother when she grew up. She puts on this strong, independent exterior, and she is independent, but she wanted a child more than anything in the world, and she can’t have one.’
‘Poor Claire.’
‘Shall we take five minutes? Have a cup of a tea and a cherry Bakewell?’
***
Break time was a disappointment. Someone had brought in decaffeinated coffee, which, in Matilda’s eyes, was an abomination, and the cherry Bakewells were a supermarket’s own-brand and filled with cheap ingredients. It delayed cutting open a child, however, so it was most welcome.
‘Chris said he’d come round to the flat at the weekend and measure the rooms for curtains, furniture, that kind of thing,’ Adele said.
‘Bloody hell, let the paint dry on the skirting boards,’ Matilda mocked. ‘They can’t wait, can they?’
‘They’re excited,’ she smiled.
‘What are you going to do in that big house on your own?’
‘The same thing as you do in yours?’
‘You don’t have a dead husband to get depressed about.’
‘No. I also don’t have a hunky architect to share my bed with either.’
‘I don’t share my bed with him,’ she said, reddening slightly.
‘Well, share the kitchen table with then,’ Adele winked. ‘Have you heard from him?’
‘Yes. He sent me a text earlier.’
‘Are you seeing him again?’
‘I feel like I’m back at school, here,’ Matilda said, stuffing the rest of her disappointing snack into her mouth. ‘We’re two single adults who like each other. Let’s just leave it at that for now, shall we?’
They were silent for a few seconds before Adele chuckled to herself.
‘What?’ Matilda asked.
‘I was just wondering, as an architect …’
‘No erection jokes,’ Matilda interrupted.
‘As if I would,’ she held up her hands in surrender.
‘I know what you’re like.’
There was a light rap on the office door. It opened slightly and Claire Alexander poked her head around.
‘Sorry, do you mind if I interrupt?’
‘Not at all, Claire,’ Matilda said. ‘Please, add some sanity to the conversation.’
‘I wish I could. I’ve discovered something on one of the scans that you’re going to need to see.’
Claire led the way back into the digital autopsy suite. In the anteroom, the screen was still showing images of Keeley Armitage, only, now there were scans of the whole body rather than localised to her neck and head.
‘First of all, sorry for rushing off like that,’ Claire said. Adele placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Secondly, I’ve found this.’ She zoomed in and pointed to shadowing on Keeley’s lower torso.
‘What is it?’ Matilda asked.
‘This is evidence of significant trauma with a large haematoma. The tissue in this region is incredibly soft. It’s been severely damaged. These dark areas here are patterns of gas. We should not be able to see gas in this area because the tissue would keep it out.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Matilda began. ‘I’ve no idea what I’m looking at here. What area of the body is this?’
Claire and Adele exchanged glances.
‘It’s the inside of Keeley’s vagina,’ Claire said quietly. ‘This is evidence of a serious sexual assault.’
‘But she was found fully clothed. Her knickers and tights weren’t interfered with. You said so yourself, Adele.’
‘The internal damage is sufficient to show bruising on top of old injuries that haven’t had time to heal. This goes back longer than Keeley being kidnapped on Monday night. She was abused before she went missing,’ Claire stated.
Chapter 33
ACC Valerie Masterson entered the HMET suite and stood in the doorway. She looked lost. Usually neatly turned out in uniform, her shirt wasn’t tucked into her trousers, her jacket was unbuttoned, and her shoes were dull. Everyone knew of her personal situation; her husband was severely ill in hospital and her retirement plans had been thrown into chaos, so nobody drew attention to her slack appearance.
‘Matilda not in?’ she asked, approaching Sian’s desk.
‘No. She’s at Watery Street. She’ll be a few more hours yet.’
‘Oh.’
Sian waited for her to go on, but she didn’t. The DS followed Valerie’s eyeline and landed on the framed photo on her desk of Sian with her husband and four children.
‘I hear congratulations are in order,’ Valerie said.
‘Sorry?’
‘Twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.’
‘Yes. At the end of the month.’
‘Arthur and I have been married for twenty-eight years,’ she said, wistfully. ‘We were hoping to be somewhere in Italy for the thirtieth.’
‘It could still happen.’
‘No. Not now.’
‘You may not be able to go on the road trip like you planned, but you could still have a holiday. Two years is a long time. You don’t know how he’s going to respond to treatment until it starts. He could surprise you all.’
Valerie gave a weak smile. ‘I wish I had your optimism, Sian. When Matilda gets in, will you give her this?’ She produced a folder from behind her back. ‘I’ve had an email from the embassy in France. They’ve sent through a transcript of the interview with the young lad claiming to be Carl Meagan. It makes for very interesting reading.’
‘Oh.’ Sian said, taking the folder from her. ‘Any news on the DNA sample?’
‘Not yet.’ Valerie stood in silence, looking once again at Sian’s family photo, before turning on her heel and heading for the exit. Her legs looked heavy as she walked, as if all life had drained out of her.