Cari Hunter by Cold to the Touch (epub)

Author:Cold to the Touch (epub)
Format: epub
Published: 2016-10-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Snowflakes still melting in her hair, Sanne squeezed into the space Nelson had saved for her atop an empty desk, and accidentally elbowed Fred’s ribs in the process.

“Bloody hell,” he hissed, rubbing the offended part. “Was that your elbow or a pickaxe? You need to get some meat on your bones, San.”

“I’ll eat more pies, I promise,” she said, taking care to wrestle out her notebook without inflicting further damage.

Pen readied and notes in hand, she felt able to relax a little. She hated being late, her stress further amplified by the scheduling of a full departmental briefing during which she had been asked to report on Paul Barber’s statement.

“Roads bad?” Nelson said.

“Yeah. I set off early, but it took me ages just to get over the Snake. After that, it was mostly idiots driving at ten miles an hour because there’s an inch of snow on the pavements.”

He chuckled. “I got your text. I was all ready to stand in for you. Did you happen to catch the news this morning?”

She shook her head. “I spent the drive practising for this and swearing at morons. What did I miss?”

“Oh, not much.” A smile began to spread over his face. “Just Trevor Mulligan guilty of first degree murder.”

“You’re shitting me,” she said, far more loudly than she had intended. Several people turned to look in her direction, but she didn’t care. If there had been enough space, she would’ve thrown her arms around Nelson. “Unanimous verdict?”

“Yep. Came in late yesterday evening.”

Sanne felt like a ton weight had just been rolled off her. She would never have forgiven herself had her shaky testimony wrecked the prosecution’s case. “Thank fuck for that. When’s the sentencing?”

“Later today. He’ll get life. No doubt about it.”

“I hope they throw away the bloody key,” she muttered, watching Eleanor and Carlyle take up positions at the front of the room.

“I’m sure they will.”

“Good morning, everyone.” Eleanor’s voice easily carried over the diminishing murmurs of conversation. “I appreciate you coming in for such an ungodly hour. This is where we’re at, as of thirty minutes ago.” She flicked the lights off and opened a PowerPoint presentation, the first slide a well-lit image of Daniel Horst’s blood spilled on the pavement.

“The post mortem on Horst has confirmed that a similar, most probably identical, weapon was used in his and Andrew Culver’s murders. Attempts to cast the wound tracks failed due to decomposition in Culver’s case and resuscitative attempts in Horst’s, but the knife we’re looking for resembles this one.” She clicked to a slide depicting a large, curved blade. “None of the three PMs have identified any trace evidence from the perp, which could indicate a degree of forensic sophistication. That the perp had kit with him on Saturday night—at the very least, gloves and the knife—implies the attack on Horst was planned rather than random. If he’s used the same blade twice, then it’s something he’s hung on to and it’s likely still to be in his possession, so keep your eyes peeled during house-to-house.

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