At Your Door. J. P. Carter
the trail to the right into the woods. The vegetation between the trees was high and thick and he found the perfect spot after only a short distance. He dropped her onto a bed of ferns and then carefully removed the bin bags so she was lying there naked, her skin pale against the dark undergrowth.
As he stared down at her he realised there were tears in his eyes and a voice inside his head was telling him to stay with her for a while so that he could get off his chest the things he wanted to say to her. But another voice told him not to be stupid and to get away from there as quickly as possible. And it was that voice he listened to.
He gathered up some leaves and branches and threw them on top of her, and while doing so he wondered if the body would be discovered before the animals and insects feasted on it.
Finally, he picked up the bin bags and used the torch on his phone to make sure he’d left nothing behind.
Then he returned to the car and put the blood-soaked bin bags into an unused bag. He then placed this in the boot alongside her clothes, handbag and purse. Seconds later he was back behind the wheel.
But his work wasn’t finished. On the way home he stopped next to half a dozen different street bins into which he deposited her belongings along with the bin bags. As a precaution everything had already been wiped clean, her phone had been smashed and all her credit cards cut up into small pieces.
The only item he intended to keep was her driving licence, which he took from his pocket after he pulled the car to a stop in front of his home. He stared at it for almost half a minute, and was careful not to touch the spatter of blood on the back. Then he blew a kiss at her photograph, and said, ‘I’m so very, very sorry. You really didn’t deserve this.’
Anna was glad that nobody in the office had realised it was her birthday. The last thing she wanted was any kind of fuss.
It was depressing enough knowing that she was another year older. She didn’t want to be teased about reaching the ripe old age of forty-three.
It was scary how quickly the time had passed, and how many milestones she had clocked up. A lot of tears had been shed during those four decades, and she didn’t feel inclined to celebrate the fact that September the sixth had come around again.
The only reason she was going out for dinner tonight was because Tom had insisted.
‘You’ve had a tough year, Anna,’ he’d said this morning just before they left her house and went their separate ways. ‘And I wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend if I let your birthday pass without making it at least a little different to every other day.’
He was right about it having been a tough year, especially on the work front. She and her colleagues in the Major Investigation Team had been swamped by the biggest tidal wave of serious crime ever to hit South London. The murder rate was up, along with knife attacks, shootings, robberies and gang violence. The last case they’d dealt with had been the most challenging, though. It had involved the abduction of nine small children from a nursery school in Rotherhithe, and the murder of one of their teachers.
The investigation had ended dramatically two weeks ago, but the paperwork was still piled up on the desk in front of her. She’d been wading through it all afternoon and her eyes were tired from reading the case notes, interview transcripts, forensics reports and briefing documents that were being prepared for the Crown Prosecution Service.
Still, in another forty-five minutes it’d be five o’clock and that was when she’d decided to call it a day. It was only a short drive from the Wandsworth HQ to her home in Vauxhall so she’d have plenty of time to shower and get dressed before Tom arrived.
He was getting ready at his own flat, which was only a mile away, and coming over by taxi. He’d booked a table at their favourite Italian restaurant for seven-thirty and she was hoping he hadn’t done something daft like ordered a cake or arranged for someone to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her.
The more she thought about tonight the less she felt like going. But if she cried off without having a really good excuse it would upset Tom and give him another reason to believe that she was no longer committed to their relationship. The issue had taken root in his mind and she’d been struggling to convince him that it wasn’t true.
But she knew it would take more than just words to banish his insecurities. The main thing he wanted was for them to live together and she simply wasn’t ready for that.
A burst of activity out in the main office seized her attention suddenly. She watched through the open door as several detectives gathered around the desk of DI Max Walker, who was holding a phone to his ear with one hand while scribbling frantically on a notepad with the other.
Instinct told Anna that something had happened and that Walker was being fed the details by an operator at central control. If so then it could well be the start of a new investigation.
That was usually how it began. A single phone call that prompted a collective rush of adrenalin and then a dash to the scene of whatever crime had been committed.
Anna was on her feet and out of her tiny office in a flash. By the time she reached Walker’s desk he’d finished the call and was tearing a page from his notebook. He looked up at her but when he spoke it was loud enough so that everyone could hear.
‘A body has been found on the edge of Barnes Common,’ he said. ‘A young woman. She’s naked and has a stab wound to the throat. And it seems she hasn’t been there very long. Uniform have just arrived and a forensics team are only minutes away.’
Anna told DI Walker and DC Megan Sweeny that she wanted them to go with her to the common. She then issued various instructions to the rest of the detectives.
‘Check missing persons to see if any young women have been added to the database recently. And I want us to locate all the street cameras within a half-mile radius of where the body’s been found.’
Anna hurried back into her office to collect her jacket and shoulder bag. As she was stepping back out her mobile rang. She answered it without checking the caller ID.
‘DCI Tate,’ she said.
‘Hello, detective. This is Jan Groves in the Media Liaison Department. Can you spare a moment?’
‘Not really. I’m on my way out of the office. And if you’re calling to ask about the body found on Barnes Common then I don’t have any information yet. We’ve only just got wind of it.’
‘Actually it’s got nothing to do with that,’ Groves said. ‘This is more of a personal matter.’
Anna paused in the doorway and frowned.
‘In that case I’ll let you satisfy my curiosity,’ she said. ‘I can give you sixty seconds. So fire away.’
‘Well, we’ve been contacted by a producer at Channel Four,’ Groves said. ‘He just finished the second instalment of the feature about you that’s been published in the Evening Standard. He said it blew his mind and he’d like to do a programme on it for their true crime series. He wants to know if you’d be willing to cooperate.’
Anna’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Of course I’m up for it. And the sooner it happens the better.’
‘I thought that would be your reaction,’ Groves said. ‘I’ll get back to him right away. Your superiors will need to sign off on it, but I don’t think that will be a problem. We’re working closely with several TV channels on a whole bunch of programmes at present.’
Anna was well aware of that. True crime documentaries were all the rage with broadcasters these days. Viewers