A Gift for Dying by M. J. Arlidge

Author:M. J. Arlidge
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781405932493
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2019-03-06T16:00:00+00:00

74

The smell was overpowering. As they levered open the reinforced, metal door, the acrid aroma hit her. It was sharp, industrial, nauseating. Slipping a mask over her mouth and nose, Gabrielle turned to check that Miller was ready. The pair of them looked faintly ridiculous, dressed up in forensic suits and shoe coverings, while clutching flashlights and firearms, but there was no alternative. If this was the kill site, they needed to preserve it, but they also needed to protect themselves. Gabrielle didn’t expect anyone to be inside – the place looked cold and lifeless – but it wouldn’t do to take any chances, especially with a junior officer in tow.

‘On the count of three. One, two, three –’

Gabrielle pushed inside, flashlight on full, gun raised. Movement to her left made her turn, but it was just a shadow dancing on the wall. They pressed on, Gabrielle scoping the left-hand corner, while Miller covered their right flank. They prowled forward, eyes searching the darkened trailer for signs of life. But there was nobody here – the place was echoing and empty, save for a pile of cleaning aids and machinery in the far corner.

Turning towards it, Gabrielle brought her flashlight to bear on the discarded gear. There was an industrial carpet cleaner that had seen better days, a torn hose hanging off it, but there were other items that appeared to be newer. Shoe coverings and protective suits. Plastic sheeting and latex gloves. Gabrielle crouched down to examine them, her mind darting back to the marks on Jacob Jones’s neck, caused by his allergy to latex. Had Rochelle’s body also revealed evidence of being handled by latex gloves? Gabrielle knew they had found no fingerprints or fibres on the body, but she had not asked Aaron Holmes this specific question and made a mental note to do so as soon as they were finished here.

Next to the pile of plastic sheets was a large drum. Firing her flashlight on it, Gabrielle saw a plethora of warning symbols, denoting the contents’ toxicity, but also the name of the substance. Sodium hypochlorite.

‘Sodium hypo—… what is that stuff?’ Miller questioned, reading the label from over her shoulder.

‘Industrial bleach. Though why you need it for carpet cleaning beats me.’

Gabrielle moved away from the drum, sweeping her flashlight beam over the empty floor.

‘And why so much of it?’

Pausing, she bent down to examine the surface of the trailer. For such a tired, forgotten place, the floor was scrupulously clean, not a trace of dirt visible anywhere. Was Redmond meticulously hygienic or did the smooth, clean surfaces conceal something more sinister? Gabrielle’s beam fell on a drain outlet, in the right-hand corner of the room.

‘Give me a hand with this, will you?’ she said, hurrying over to it.

The drain was topped by a heavy, metal grille. Between the two of them, they lifted it easily and Gabrielle pointed her flashlight down. The beam illuminated a deep, wide pipe that descended for roughly five feet before hitting a body of water.

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