Sian picked up the framed photo and looked at her husband. ‘Don’t even think about putting me through what Valerie’s going through right now, Stuart Mills. I won’t hesitate in pulling the plug.’ She didn’t mean it.
She opened the folder Valerie left her and pulled out the four-page email. Her eyes quickly skimmed the first page and her mouth fell open. ‘Jesus Christ,’ she said to herself. Her phone rang, making her jump. She quickly closed the folder and put her keyboard over the top of it. ‘Homicide and Major Enquiries. DS Mills,’ she answered.
‘Sian, it’s Mat. Are you sitting down?’
‘Yes.’
‘Initial tests on Keeley Armitage show that she was sexually assaulted.’
‘What?’ Her eyes widened. ‘How is that possible? She was fully clothed. Her tights were—’
‘I know,’ Matilda interrupted. ‘I didn’t mean she was assaulted when she was taken. There are old injuries. She was assaulted way before Monday evening.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘You know what I’m thinking, don’t you?’
‘Craig Armitage?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Shit. What do you want me to do?’
‘We need to be incredibly sensitive about this,’ Matilda said. ‘If we go in like a bull in a china shop and we’re wrong, we will not look good when the Armitages go to the press – which they will. Give social services a call, see if the family have appeared on their radar at all. Any news on Calvin Page yet?’
‘No. Ranjeet left to meet his parole officer about half an hour ago.’
‘I thought Aaron was dealing with that.’
‘Erm … yes. I just heard Ranjeet was going.’
‘Ok. Keep me posted.’
‘Will do. Listen, Matilda,’ Sian began, moving her keyboard and looking at the folder. ‘I’ve received …’
‘What? What have you received?’ Matilda asked when Sian fell silent.
‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter. It can wait.’
***
Matilda hung up. She’d gone to her car to make the private call. When she looked up out of the windscreen, she saw DC Finn Cotton standing by her car, patiently waiting.
‘Is everything all right?’ she asked as she stepped out of the Range Rover. He looked ill.
‘I’ve never attended a post-mortem before,’ he said, barely opening his mouth.
‘I thought you were at the one with DI Brady the other day, the prostitute found in Stanley Street.’
His cheeks reddened in embarrassment. ‘No. DI Brady sent me back to Stanley Street to knock on a few doors.’
‘You mean you were sick?’
He swallowed hard. ‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Ah. Well, I’m sorry to say this, but this one isn’t going to be an easy one to watch. I mean, none of them are, but when they’re on children, well …’ She looked at him. He was petrified. She cast her eyes up and down his slight frame. ‘Fortunately, you don’t look too heavy. I should be able to carry you back to the car no problem. Come on, follow me.’
The unnatural light of the autopsy room was stark, intrusive and headache inducing. There were no windows to let in light from outside and the sound of air conditioning and extractor fans was a constant hum of annoyance. The ceiling was low, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. It was cold. It was quiet. It was grim. Death stalked the hallways and lurked behind every corner. The bank of refrigerators either side of the long corridor added to the macabre mood.
‘I don’t think I can do this,’ Finn said quietly to his boss.
‘You don’t have a choice, I’m afraid. This is part and parcel of the job. You’ll have to attend a great deal of these in your career; you may as well start with a bad one.’
Matilda showed Finn where to go in order to suit up. Matilda was an old hand at this and, to her, the oversized green scrubs, the gloves, face mask and wellington boots slipped on with ease. Finn kept everyone waiting.
Finn’s role was as exhibit officer. His relief at not being in the main autopsy room was palpable. He was in the anteroom where he would record any evidence that was found on the body.
In the main room, a single table was welded to the floor. In the middle, Keeley Armitage’s small body was covered by a white sheet. At the back of the room, a workbench contained all the tools Adele would need to perform the post-mortem.
The sheet was removed, revealing Keeley’s naked body. She looked younger than nine years old. She was pale. Her skin was smooth and soft. She didn’t look real.
The photographer stepped forward and began taking pictures of the child from every angle while Matilda, Adele, and the pathological technician, Lucy Dauman, stood to one side.
‘When you’re presented with a child, you really begin to question why you decided to do this job,’ Lucy said to no one in particular. ‘I mean, any murder victim is upsetting, but a child. She’s nine years old for crying out loud. What could she have possibly done to someone to make them kill her?’ Her voice broke and she wiped away a tear with the back of her hand.
‘You can’t think like that, Lucy,’ Adele said. ‘It’s incredibly sad what’s happened to her, but we’re helping to find out who did it so they can face justice. We’ve been here so many times before. We know to keep our emotions in the locker. This is just any other post-mortem.’
‘It’s not, though, is it?’
‘I’m sorry, Lucy, but it is. It may sound harsh and insensitive, but if you keep thinking of the person they used to be, it will eat away at you.’
Within seconds of Adele inserting the scalpel to begin making the traditional Y-shape from behind each ear to meet at the breastbone, a thud was heard from the anteroom. Finn had fainted. A technician helped him out of the room, and another stepped in as exhibit officer and the post-mortem continued.
Matilda didn’t usually struggle with post-mortems, but she couldn’t get what Lucy had said out of her mind. It was difficult to leave emotions at the door and see the victim as an object. She wouldn’t be doing her job justice if she didn’t have sympathy for the person who had been killed. Only a cold-blooded psychopath could approach the autopsy of a nine-year-old with icy disdain. She watched Adele out of the corner of her eye, searching for any signs of humanity. She didn’t see it in her face, which was partially covered, but she saw it in her shaking hands as the scalpel cut into the flesh. As she recorded her findings into the microphone hanging from the ceiling, her voice was distinctly higher than usual, and she had to keep swallowing to compose herself.
Despite the digital autopsy showing no bones were broken during the strangulation, Adele needed to be certain. There had to be a complete dissection of the neck which included the full removal of the larynx including the hyoid bone, with the tongue still attached. They were individually examined for signs of contusion and haemorrhage.
Matilda stood well back from the table to allow Adele, Lucy, and the other technicians space to move freely around.
‘I shall now begin examining the body for evidence of sexual assault,’ Adele said into the microphone.
Keeley’s legs were spread open wider and Adele stepped back to allow the photographer to visually record any evidence. There was a remote chance there could be semen present which would help Matilda in tracking down the perpetrator. How long ago Keeley was assaulted would determine how old the sample was and whether it was any use to test. This part of the post-mortem would be more intricate and precise.