She interrupted him. ‘Why are you calling me?’
‘Because, like it or not, I have requested you join my team.’
‘No!’
‘What?’
‘I said no. I’m sorry, I just don’t think under the circumstances it would be—’
‘Bullshit! Whatever our personal differences are, we leave them out of it. I want you with me.’
‘I can’t, I’m sorry.’
‘Yes, you can.’
‘No, I can’t.’
‘Listen to me! You don’t have any option.’
‘I will not work with you!’
‘You are the only person who can recognize this Sickert bastard! You also have to feel some guilt about what has happened.’
‘Well, I don’t.’
‘That’s more bullshit! I know you, and I know you knew the victim; if they find her kids buried with her, you will want to be on the enquiry. The bastard chopped her to pieces, Anna.’
‘You shit!’
He ignored this and went on. ‘I’m on my way there now, so the sooner you can get yourself back to the murder site, the better. Also, I’ve brought in Harry Blunt, as Barolli wasn’t available. Plus I’ve asked for some serious back-up on the forensic, as it’s apparently a hell of a job and Hampshire police are a bit out of their depth. Anna?’
She took a deep breath. ‘I really do not want to work with you, so I am asking you again: please, get someone else.’
‘See you there as soon as you can make it.’ He cut off the call and she stood there holding the receiver, still dripping from the shower.
Right, she thought. If this is the way he wants it, fine! He’s not going to make me act unprofessionally, no way. I’m going to be there, DCI Bloody Langton, and I’ll show you how I can act as if nothing had ever gone on between us!
It was after three when Anna returned to the bungalow. This time, she was dressed for the rain and filth. She didn’t use her umbrella but wore her raincape and headed straight for the crime ribbons. The first person she saw, looking very green, was Harry Blunt.
‘Afternoon, Harry,’ she said.
He turned. ‘Dear God, the stench in the forensic tent is overpowering. I’ve already puked up.’
‘DCI Langton in there, is he?’
‘Yeah, with his pal Mike Lewis. Have you got any spearmint?’
‘No. Sorry.’
‘So, back together sooner than you thought, eh?’
‘What?’ She thought he was referring to her and Langton.
‘You and me.’
‘Oh yes.’ She pulled on her white paper suit and overshoes as Harry stripped off his.
‘I’m going over to the incident room,’ he said. ‘They’re taking her to the mortuary any time now, so I’ve made excuses — anything to get out of here.’
‘Not found any other remains?’
‘No, thank Christ, but they’re not even in the piggery section yet. They’ve been carted off, the pigs; apparently the landlord of the place swilled everywhere down and hosed their pens, so maybe we won’t find anything. I hope to God we don’t.’
Anna fixed her mask in place, and drew back the flap of the tent to go back in.
Langton was kneeling, leaning in very close to the body. As he straightened, he saw her and gestured for her to come to his side. Her heart felt as if it was going to explode in her chest; she felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She clenched her teeth to maintain control, thankful the mask hid part of her face.
It was as if the past eighteen months of living with him had never happened and the horror of his injuries had not taken place. He showed no sign of any kind of emotion on seeing her; on the contrary, he was cold and professional, even down to the tone of his voice.
‘You’ve identified her, right?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Do you want to take another look, just to be certain?’
‘They have contacted her mother.’
‘I know, but it’s going to take some time to bring her here from Newcastle, so I’d like to be sure.’
Anna bent down and again looked at the mottled, beaten face of Gail Sickert.
‘Yes, it’s her.’
‘Good. Right, we might as well let her go to the mortuary now, so we can head back to the incident room.’ Langton gestured to the forensic team. ‘They’re going to have to sift through that heap of bloody manure and then do a search of every inch of the place. He could have fed the kids to the pigs, but the landlord—’
She interrupted. ‘I know — he swilled the pens down.’
‘Right.’ Langton walked ahead of her and lifted the flap to exit.
Anna followed and began to remove her paper suit. He was already rolling his into a tight ball and chucking it into the bin provided.
‘You remember the Fred West case?’ he grunted.
‘Of course I do.’
‘The only way the teams could sift through his stinking garden was to shovel everything through women’s tights. We’re a bit more advanced, but not that much, so these poor bastards have a filthy job on their hands. We’re looking for bone fragments; anything that might indicate the children died here as well.’
Anna followed him as he strode across the muddy yard; the rain had stopped, but the puddles were still deep. He was wearing big black Wellington boots and his old brown Driza-Bone raincape. As he reached the area where the squad cars were parked, she saw him light a cigarette. So much for his health regime!
Langton turned and saw her Mini parked on the bank at the side of the potholed drive. ‘See you there.’
He got into the patrol car and was driven away. He had shown not so much as a flicker of emotion, nor had he made any reference to the situation between them. It was hard for her to be able to maintain her cool, but Anna felt that so far, she’d done well. Question was, would she be able to keep it up?
The incident room in the Hampshire station was still pretty rough, but they had shipped in more computers and there now were eight desks. Anna placed her briefcase onto her allocated desk next to Harry Blunt’s; he was sucking peppermints.
‘Christ, the stench clings to you, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ she said, taking off her jacket and placing it onto the back of her chair.
‘You think the fucker fed the kids to the pigs?’
‘Harry, I don’t know — but like you said, I hope to God he didn’t.’
Langton walked in and signalled to Anna to join him.
‘I want you to sit with the artist we’ve brought in from London and get an Identikit picture of this Sickert. We need it out as fast as possible. We’ve no trace on him or any kind of record, so he’s using an assumed name, is an illegal immigrant, whatever. Wherever he is, if he’s still got the kids with him, he’s going to be easier to trace.’
Langton turned to Mike Lewis, who gave Anna a half-smile of acknowledgement as he handed over photographs. ‘Local school had these taken at half-term, so they’re up to date: a boy aged six, and a girl aged seven, both white…’
Anna interjected, ‘The baby, the little girl I saw, was also white, about eighteen months old.’
‘She’s twenty-four months,’ Langton said. They had reports on her from the local clinic. He gestured at the board: as yet, it was empty. ‘We are hoping Gail’s mother will bring some photographs of the victim, but we want these kids’ faces up there and out to the press. So, Anna — get cracking on the drawing, and then work on an ident computer image. We want it out asap.’
The whole place was hopping. The local officers attached to the investigation were running around like scalded hens. Langton threw out instructions and orders at such a pace, you could see them virtually tripping over each other.