What She Saw (20 page)

The image blurred behind the tears that had welled up in his eyes, and he had heard his own voice say, ‘Sarah, we have to leave now.'

He had wiped his eyes. Purple curtains parted as her coffin had begun to move. Rosen had leant down and placed his arms around Sarah as she had collapsed onto the rollers that had taken Hannah away for the last time.

‘Cause of death, Stevie Jensen, confirmed.' Sweeney's matter-of-fact
voice snapped Rosen back into the present, just as the pathologist turned back the sheet that covered what was left of the boy's face.

The top of his skull was missing, the brain removed from its shell.

‘He was hit by a hammer. The first blow knocked him out. The second sent a long, thin splinter of bone into his brain. Do you want to see the evidence, DCI Rosen?'

Rosen shook his head.

‘So, the good news is, he died more or less instantly before they set him alight.'

Sweeney turned the cloth down some more to reveal the ravages that petrol and fire caused to the fragile human body.

‘It's clear to see that they only made a direct target of the head, face and chest. The sporadic, accidental damage to the shoulders, chest, back, abdomen and genitalia has been caused by what has splashed down, with a few minor, scattered burn marks on the upper thighs. . .'

Henshaw walked around the table, looking at Stevie's face from a few different angles. ‘So they're fast learners,' he observed. All eyes turned to him. ‘They tried to burn Thomas to death in a fire that was meant to obliterate the victim, and they failed. So far. So when they went for the second victim, they were much more economical, site specific. Who's going to survive an attack like that?'

‘There's a reason why his lower half was untargeted,' said Corrigan.

‘The bizarre thing you mentioned on the phone?' probed Rosen.

‘They planted a clue.'

‘Where?' asked Rosen

‘Inside his sock,' replied Doctor Sweeney. ‘I found the cap of a pen between the small and second toe of his left foot.'

Sweeney lifted the white sheet from Stevie's feet. There was a vivid red ring around the tip of the small toe, as if the killers had tried very hard to get the cap to fit on the toe itself. But the diameter of the toe had proved too wide for the pen cap to fit.

Henshaw wrote quickly in a notebook.

The nail was torn and coming away. The compression of the top of the toe had left the base swollen and bruised by the sheer force used.

‘We keep this detail to ourselves,' Rosen said. ‘We'll use it to weed out crank confessions. Where's the pen cap?'

Sweeney reached across to a trolley and produced an aluminium kidney bowl. He handed it to Rosen.

In the bowl, inside an evidence bag, was a bright florescent pen cap.

‘As soon as I saw it, I thought about highlighter pens,' said Corrigan. ‘That drew a blank. Then I had a blast from the past from when I was co-ordinating Metropolitan Police community work. It's from a UV marker to protect your property against thieves.'

‘Do you know what make it is?'

‘It's mass produced,' said Corrigan.

No symbols other than the eye
, thought Rosen,
on the walls where Stevie was murdered. But no symbols
. A chilling possibility occurred to him.

‘Can you bring me a fluorescent light?' Rosen asked Sweeney, who turned back to the trolley and opened a drawer in it.

Sweeney handed the fluorescent light to Rosen. He clicked the end of the slender tube with his thumb. A beam of blue light.

‘Cut the lights!' said Rosen. A technician obliged and the mortuary was plunged into almost virtual darkness. He pointed the fluorescent light at Stevie and the beam hit the charred ruin of his face.

He stroked the neck with light and drew the blue glow down onto Stevie's collarbone, where pink flesh poked out between blackened patches. His left arm was less severely burned than his right, but the chest was devastated down to the centre of the rib cage, where most of the excess petrol had dripped, causing a pathway for the fire to fall.

His stomach was largely clear of damage, but when the light hit the boy's hands, Rosen felt his breath desert him briefly: the superficial marks caused when he'd tried to save Thomas were a tragic reminder of what had brought Stevie to this place.

Rosen now moved to the boy's feet, feeling his way down the
side of the trolley in the darkness, and using the light to guide him. He explored the toes of Stevie's left foot, starting on the inside and working out to the damaged digit at the end, circling, leaving no part unlit. He reached the damaged little toe. And stopped, stooping to make sure he wasn't mistaken. ‘It's here.'

He moved then to the right foot, working the other way this time, starting on the little toe and examining each digit closely. He could hear the pulse within his ears when he arrived at the big toe. ‘And it's here. Have you got a larger fluorescent light?'

Sweeney called to the technician and, within moments, a stronger light was delivered to Rosen.

Rosen looked at Corrigan and Henshaw through the sinister glow and said, ‘They've marked the body this time. Look.' He shone the light on the left little toe and the right big one.

He turned to Sweeney. ‘I need to see his legs.'

Sweeney lifted the sheet and Rosen used the florescent light to pick up invisible UV marks on the outside of Stevie's left leg.

The same style of symbols as Bannerman Square, but different.

Rosen picked out:

The symbols were drawn over the smooth curve of his calf. And above his knee, halfway up his thigh:

The writing narrower over cartilage, skin and muscle.

Rosen moved the light up and down from hip to ankle and saw that the message ran from Stevie's ankle to his hipbone.

The room was quiet as all the UV graffiti became clear to see: the entire message.

Rosen held the UV light as Corrigan photographed Stevie's vandalized toes.

In the pursuit of that which is sacred
, thought Rosen,
the sanctity of others is nothing
.

‘Done,' said Corrigan.

‘Lights up!' The room stuttered into light. ‘Copy the pictures onto my phone,' said Rosen.

As Corrigan did so, he looked agitated, angry and upset.

Henshaw's phone rang. He checked the display and said, ‘God, yes, I'd better take this.'

Rosen looked at what remained of Stevie's naked body and reminded himself that a little over twenty-four hours earlier, he'd been alive, vibrant and with everything before him.
I'm sorry
, thought Rosen and, lifting one edge of the white sheet looked across at Corrigan, who took hold of the other side. Both men were of the same mind as they covered Stevie's body: to protect his dignity.

Rosen recalled the last glimpse of Hannah's white coffin as it sank away into the darkness, and the fire behind that. For a few moments, he felt dislocated from reality, his legs like water, the floor beneath him crumbling.

Corrigan was at his side and Rosen felt the weight of his hand pressed against his spine. ‘It'll be OK, boss, whatever you're thinking about. It'll be OK.'

‘Thanks, Jeff, I appreciate that.'

Henshaw turned and closed his phone. His face was animated with excitement.

‘What is it?' asked Rosen.

‘Great news. That was Dawn Coltraine, history professor at UCL. She knows exactly what the symbols mean and where they come from.'

49

8.03 P.M.

A
s Rosen escorted Dawn Coltraine into the incident room at Isaac Street, he could feel something almost electrical in the air as he passed Gold and Feldman at their laptops. Feldman was virtually dancing in his seat and Gold, catching Rosen's eye, was excited. Rosen kept walking, followed by Henshaw.

‘We're on to something, David,' said Gold.

‘Brilliant,' replied Rosen.

‘Bellwood and Leung,' smiled Feldman.

‘We've called them in.'

‘Give me a minute, yeah?' Rosen pointed at Professor Coltraine's back. ‘She can read the symbols.'

Gold gave Rosen a thumbs-up and turned back to the images he was pinpointing with Feldman. Feldman laughed, the high shrill laugh he gave when he'd cracked a problem.

‘Thank you for stepping forward to help us out,' Rosen said now, to Professor Coltraine. She sat at Rosen's desk, Henshaw at her side.

At first glance, she looked elderly because of the shock of white hair that framed her face, but on closer inspection her face was youthful and alive with intelligence and kindness.

‘It's perfectly all right, Mr Rosen.' She reached inside her bag and
took out a brown folder. Placing it on the desk, she said, ‘This is very straightforward.'

An overhead fluorescent light buzzed. She looked up and her face was suddenly pained. ‘I'm sorry, can you do something about that light? The sound is like nails on a blackboard to me.'

Henshaw jumped up. ‘I've got it, Dawn.'

Rosen turned on the desk light as Henshaw knocked off the fluorescent at the wall.