The eleventh grave, p.23
The Eleventh Grave, page 23
‘Are we sure it’s the same bloke that met Patrick?’ said Mark.
Kennedy nodded. ‘I’m sure. Play it again, Alex – and this time, can you splice in the other footage from the station concourse as well?’
On the video, a steady stream of commuters poured down the concrete steps from the platform, then filtered along the underground passageway that led to the ticket office and car park. Some paused to exchange a parting comment with their fellow passengers before splitting like tributaries across the station forecourt, hurrying to work before the forecasted rain shower smothered the town.
And, amongst these, was the man seen previously with Patrick Westington, except this time a woman in her early twenties was hurrying to keep up with him, her face determined.
‘Shit,’ West said. ‘That’s Tom Mildenhew, the vet. There’s a photo of him in his personnel file.’
Mark turned to Kennedy. ‘We have to find that woman. Now.’
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Kennedy had ordered the four detectives and a group of uniformed personnel into another room that was partitioned from the main investigation team.
It was bright in here, sunlight dazzling Mark’s eyes while he pulled down each of the window blinds, shutting away the outside world.
The air conditioning was grumbling through ventilation shafts above their heads while it attempted to lower the temperature in the stuffy meeting space, not helped by the number of people now pulling out chairs around a hastily constructed conference desk that constituted eight tables borrowed from various other rooms.
Mark loosened the top button of his shirt, tucked his tie into his trouser pocket and took one of the manila folders that was being passed around by Caroline with a murmured thanks. Opening it, he saw she had copied Tom Mildenhew’s personnel file and added screenshots of the scant social media profiles she could find, including one that was for professionals seeking work.
None of the profiles had been updated for the past fourteen months. Not since Tom had started working for Doug Holton.
To his left, West sat stony-faced as she stared at the captured image of the young woman. ‘Does anyone know who she is yet?’
‘We’ve worked with British Transport Police to trace her movements,’ said Peter Cosley, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘She boarded that train at Tilehurst, west of Reading, and we’ve got CCTV images from a convenience shop and a pub that shows her walking there from a nearby housing estate. Two patrols are currently doing house-to-house enquiries to find out where she lived, supported by officers here. As soon as they find out who she is, they’ll let us know.’
‘Thanks, Peter.’ Kennedy turned to another uniformed sergeant on his right. ‘Michael, what about Tom’s family?’
‘We’re unable to trace any close relatives, guv,’ came the reply. ‘We went to the flat he’s renting and spoke to his neighbours, but they said they haven’t seen him in the past three days.’
‘We do have some information about his pre-work life, guv.’ PC Marie Collins raised her hand. ‘One of his uni alumni we interviewed said there were some issues while they were in their second year, but couldn’t provide any more information – apparently it was all discussed behind closed doors. I spoke with Tom’s lecturer at university to find out what those issues were, and it turns out that some of his peers thought he might’ve been torturing animals rather than treating them, and reported their concerns. Nothing happened – it couldn’t be proven – but she did say that Tom became more withdrawn after that. He passed his finals with no issues. But I can’t find out anything about him prior to starting uni.’
‘Keep digging,’ said Kennedy. ‘Mark, what about you?’
‘Jan and I worked through his personnel record and spoke with the two vet practices he worked at before starting at the one in Ravenswood,’ said Mark. ‘Both employers said that although he was good at what he did, he lacked any of the typical empathy that comes with dealing with animals and their owners.’
‘Why did he leave his last job?’ said Kennedy.
‘He told them he was going travelling for a while,’ said Mark. ‘That was two months before he started working for Doug Holton.’
The DI looked around the room. ‘Anyone know where Mildenhew was during those two months?’
‘I checked his passport records, guv,’ said Michael. ‘He went out to Thailand for six weeks. We’ve got no trace of him there, and we can’t get hold of any bank statements for him in the timeframe we need today to see what he might’ve spent his money on while out there. When he returned, we believe he stayed with a friend in Maidenhead until he moved to Ravenswood to start working with Holton two weeks later. He used the friend’s address on his job application.’
Kennedy jabbed a finger at the sergeant. ‘We need to find that friend, now.’
‘He went missing a week ago, guv.’ Michael let his news sink in before continuing. ‘I’ve asked a local Maidenhead patrol to go door-knocking and interview the man’s family and friends…’
‘But it doesn’t sound good, does it?’ Kennedy sighed. ‘Okay, next steps. What about Holton’s van that he says Tom’s been driving?’
‘Jasper’s lot are there now,’ said West. ‘They’re planning to work their way through the operating room at the surgery, looking for any trace evidence to link the place to the illegal organ harvesting, as well as the van for anything that might suggest it was used to transport Patrick Westington and any evidence that might help us find that woman. Holton told us that Tom used it on Monday morning before he came to work but had a day off yesterday. And just because the van was parked outside when Doug and his receptionist turned up to work this morning doesn’t mean Tom hasn’t used it again so we’re waiting for ANPR camera footage from around the area to clarify its movements for the past three days.’
‘Good, thanks. Caroline, when that footage comes in can you get a team of officers to go through it?’
‘Will do, guv.’
‘Are we all of the opinion that Tom might’ve been using the operating room at the vet’s to conduct the organ harvesting?’ said Kennedy, looking around the gathered officers.
‘It seems our best bet at the moment, guv,’ Mark ventured. ‘It’s a sterile environment, and although it’s nowhere near ideal for a surgical procedure like that, it’s tucked out of the way – and until now, convenient for the burial site at the airfield. Tom could have used it after hours, because there are no residential buildings overlooking the back yard area where the ambulance was parked – it’s all small artisan businesses along that short stretch of the village. Gillian’s over at the vet’s at the moment working with Jasper to see if there’s anything at the practice that shouldn’t be there – I mean, anything that wouldn’t typically be used on an animal patient. Jasper’s going through the whole place looking for trace evidence too so we can try to work out who might’ve been helping Tom as well.’
‘Okay, well there’s nothing further we can do until we hear from them and the house-to-house enquiries,’ Kennedy said, shuffling through the stack of papers in front of him. ‘Moving on to patients – Marie’s done some quick research and anyone who’s received one of these kidneys is going to require ongoing medication to make sure those organs aren’t rejected. That’s going to cost upwards of twenty thousand pounds a year, probably more on the black market so Peter, can you work with Marie to open up a file on that and talk to the financial investigation team at HQ to see if they’ve got anything that might help us?’
‘Will do, guv.’
‘I want formal interviews carried out immediately with anyone who fits the profile.’
‘Got it.’
Mark waited until Peter and Marie had left the room, then turned to the DI. ‘Guv, do you want myself and West to head back to the vet clinic? At least that way, we can action anything Jasper and Gillian find out the moment they’ve got something.’
‘Do it,’ said Kennedy, jerking his chin towards the door. ‘And if you find anything – anything – that indicates where this bastard has taken this woman, you let me know straight away.’
CHAPTER FIFTY
Mark found a parking space at the far end of Ravenswood’s narrow main street, and ended up with the pool car squashed bumper-to-bumper between one of Jasper’s plain grey panelled vans and a landscape gardener’s pickup truck.
West was already marching towards the vet’s surgery, stepping off the pavement to skirt around several locals who crowded the cobblestones in small groups, their voices no more than a subdued murmur.
They fell silent and stared at Mark when he passed, then after he gave them a curt nod, they turned their backs and whispered.
Outside the pub, the landlord watched, arms crossed and his jaw set. ‘Oi,’ he said as Mark hurried by. ‘Any idea when they’re going to be finished? They’re putting off my clientele.’
‘No idea,’ said Mark, and kept walking.
There were four patrol cars now taking up the spaces outside the charity shop and the vet’s, and both premises were cordoned off with crime scene tape accompanied by temporary signs that directed pedestrians across to the other side of the road so no one could peer through the open doors. Just in case that didn’t work, one of Jasper’s team was fixing plastic sheeting as a temporary curtain across each doorway.
A steady stream of protective-suited forensic technicians moved in and out of the charity shop carrying bags of second-hand clothing, and another two were talking in low voices at the entry to the vet’s.
Mark flipped open his warrant card to one of them. ‘Any idea where Gillian Appleworth is?’
‘In there,’ said the shorter of the two. He eyed Mark up and down. ‘Got suits, or do you need a pair?’
‘If you’ve got some spare…’
‘Here you go.’
‘Thanks.’ Mark slipped them over his clothes, adding the plastic bootees over his shoes while West did the same. That done, he signed the clipboard that a uniformed constable held out. ‘Okay for us to come in?’
‘All yours.’ The forensic technician lifted the tape for them to walk under. ‘Stay on the demarcated path, and follow the corridor that leads off to the left of the reception area. You’ll find Gillian and Jasper down there.’
‘Thanks.’
Mark stepped aside to let West go first, the protective suit crinkling as he moved. It was already itching his scalp, while the plastic material was creating sweat patches under his arms.
All of the surgery lights had been switched on, and at the end of the corridor he could see that bright LED lights had been removed from the forensic vans and erected to aid Jasper and his team while they worked. When he walked into the operating theatre at the rear of the practice, he blinked to offset the glare from the stainless steel table and equipment that filled the space.
The floor tiles were polished to a high sheen, and when he inhaled, there was a strong aftermath of bleach in the air. A forensic photographer nudged him out of the way before crouching beside a two-door stainless steel cabinet, angling the camera lens so it captured the floor tiles beside the cabinet as well. Over in the far corner, one of the forensic technicians was removing files from a cabinet, while her colleague took swabs from a laptop that had been left open on a desk.
There were two other people dressed head to toe in protective suits standing beside a trolley laden with surgical equipment, their attention on a locked wall cabinet while the taller of the two tried to prise it open.
‘Jasper?’ Mark ventured.
The lead forensic technician stepped back as the cabinet door sprang open, then turned. ‘We’re going to be a while here.’
‘I know.’ Mark gestured to West. ‘Kennedy thought it’d be a good idea if we were here though. Got much to go on?’
‘Lots of blood trace,’ said Jasper, ‘but that’s to be expected. The place has been thoroughly disinfected. Holton says it was last washed down by Tom Mildenhew on Monday, according to the cleaning schedule, and no procedures have taken place within the past forty-eight hours. However the lights have picked up traces around the fringes of the drain and there’s some splatter on the corner of that floor cabinet over there, so all the swabs we’re taking will be tested to check if any of those are human blood or other fluids and tissue.’
The shorter suit-clad figure turned, and Gillian Appleworth’s eyes bored into Mark’s over the top of her protective mask. ‘There are some instruments on the trolley there that beg the question what they’re doing in a vet’s surgery as well.’
‘Really?’ He wandered over, keeping his hands clasped behind his back while he peered at the various drills, saws, pliers and scalpels. ‘How can you tell?’
Gillian huffed behind the mask. ‘Because I can.’
Mark held up gloved hands. ‘Is there anything you’d like us to do to help?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Get out of the way.’
She brushed between him and West, crossed over to where a glass-fronted cupboard had been fixed to the wall above a small refrigeration unit and began sifting through packets of surgical wipes and sealed needles. Jasper winked at Mark, then dropped to a crouch beside the filing cabinet and started to lift piles of documents from the hanging files inside.
‘Shall we head outside?’ West murmured. ‘We could have a look at the receptionist’s statement and see if Alice and Grant have found anything else.’
‘Okay. Perhaps if we––’
‘Oh no.’
He turned to see Gillian standing beside the open refrigerator door, her movements careful.
‘Oh, that’s not good,’ she said.
Mark moved closer, West at his side. ‘What’ve you got?’
By way of answer, Gillian swivelled around and held up a glass jar, its contents bloodied. ‘This.’
He frowned. ‘Sorry, I don’t know what that is.’
‘They’re kidneys, Mark. Human kidneys.’
‘Sarge, got a minute?’
Biting back a rising anger, Mark turned at the sound of PC Grant Wickes’s voice. ‘What is it?’
‘We managed to break open the back of the van, Sarge.’ The constable’s face was grey. ‘There’s a dead woman inside.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
By the time Mark and West walked out the back door of the vet’s surgery and into the yard, a small crowd of forensic technicians had joined the two uniformed constables that stared at the white van.
Gillian led the way, her manner brusque until she reached its open rear doors. Then she paused for a moment, and Mark ventured a few steps closer. Over her shoulder, he could see the crumpled form of a young woman, her naked body part-covered by an old wool blanket that had fallen aside to reveal her leg bent at the knee and her arm flung out to the side. If it hadn’t been for the slashes in her lower abdomen and the sickening alabaster sheen to her skin, she might have been sleeping.
‘You poor thing,’ said Gillian, her shoulders slumping. ‘You poor, poor thing. Do you know who she is?’
‘Not yet.’ Mark blinked. His own daughters were only a few years younger than the woman who lay dead before them, and his chest tightened. ‘But we’ll find out, and when I get my hands on Tom Milden––’
‘What the bloody hell took them so long to get this thing open?’ Kennedy said, hands on hips as he glared at the forensic technicians working their way along the inside of the van.
Mark glanced over his shoulder. ‘I didn’t know you were on your way, guv.’
‘I’m getting too many phone calls from HQ on this one, especially after I’ve told them we’ve lost our main suspect, so I thought I’d come down and take a look for myself.’ The DI jerked his chin at the van. ‘I thought Doug Holton had the keys?’
‘So did he,’ said Jasper. ‘It turns out they weren’t on the peg in the office where they normally are, so after he spent nearly an hour trying to find them, we had to break it open. Hence the delay.’
‘Right, where’s Grant?’ Kennedy turned and whistled to the constable, waving him over. ‘Get onto control and tell them to hurry up with the all-ports alert I’ve requested for Tom Mildenhew, and make sure it includes any working airfields around here – especially Kidlington. Ask them to get all data relating to flights out of the UK since Monday evening as well. Caroline and Alex are already trying to find out if Mildenhew is using his own car so as soon as they’ve got any information relating to that, they’ll be updating the alert.’
‘Guv.’
Mark watched the young officer hurry away with his radio to his lips while he relayed Kennedy’s instructions, then turned back to the DI. ‘If Tom brought her here, guv, someone was expecting to receive at least one of those kidneys.’
‘Grant!’ Kennedy shouted. ‘Tell them to check incoming domestic flights as well, and check them against that register of people who are waiting for donations.’
The constable nodded in reply before turning back to his radio.
‘They could’ve driven, guv,’ said West. ‘I mean, I know it’s not helpful, but…’
‘It’s a good point. I’ll have a team check vehicle registrations against the waiting list as well and see if we get any matches before we see if there are any hits on the ANPR around here.’ He squinted into the back of the van. ‘Gillian, any thoughts about how he killed her?’
The pathologist backed out of the van on her hands and knees, then looked at the woman’s body that was now being swabbed and photographed by two of Jasper’s team. ‘He didn’t bother with anaesthetising her.’
Mark swallowed. ‘Christ, he didn’t cut her open while she was still alive, did he?’
‘I don’t know.’ Gillian sighed. ‘Not until I do the post mortem, but she’s got one hell of a crack to the back of her skull which would’ve knocked out an ox.’
