they getting it?’ she asked, trying to ignore the thumping from the backseat.
‘Everywhere. It’s relatively cheap to produce, they package the stuff so that it looks professional, and it’s less risky than trying to import heroin or cocaine. We won’t get this stuff off the streets for a decade. Unless the anti-Zorro scares the crap out of users so badly, they stop.’
‘Come on Sarge, don’t go calling whoever did this the anti-Zorro. The press gets a whiff of that and it’ll be everywhere.’
Mikey turned his head to the side for one last monumental smash against his headrest and split all the butterfly stitches open. Blood began to pour down his cheek in horror movie tears fashion, and Salter raised her eyebrows at Lively.
‘Whoever’s in charge of the carpool these days isn’t going to like us very much,’ she said.
They got him into the station fairly easily until the desk sergeant stopped them. ‘You’re not expecting me to process him, are you? He’s straight for the hospital and you know it.’
‘He’s refused medical assistance, but he’s drunk and incapable, needs a few hours in the cells. We’ve got to try to take a statement from him when he’s slept it off,’ Lively said.
‘Stop the bleeding,’ the desk sergeant said. ‘Clean him up. If I’m satisfied, I’ll book him in. Good to see you back, Salter,’ he added.
Lively nodded at her. ‘You go upstairs and report in with the boss. Someone should be back by now. Update the team with what we’ve got. I’ll be up as soon as this mess is sorted. And have a cup of tea. That’s enough for your first morning back.’
‘Right you are, sir,’ Salter said, heading for the stairs.
‘Oh yeah, not arguing with me now. Let me do all the dirty work,’ Lively mumbled.
‘Stubborn and stupid are two different things, Sarge,’ Salter grinned as she disappeared.
As soon as she entered the upper corridor, the buzz from the incident room electrified the air. Ava Turner appeared from the opposite end of the hallway and stopped, a smile spreading slowly across her face as Salter walked closer.
‘Detective Constable Salter, good to have you back with MIT,’ Ava said.
‘Good to be back, ma’am,’ Salter said. ‘There’s a murder, I gather.’
‘Looks like it,’ Ava said. ‘I’m not warning you off any particular duties. You’ve been declared fit to return and that’s good enough for me. Just communicate with me if you need anything. Agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ Salter said. ‘And congratulations on the promotion ma’am, even if I am a few months late saying it.’
‘I’m not sure congratulations is the right word. Feels more like a punishment most days. Where have you and DS Lively been this morning?’
‘Someone slashed the letter Z into the face of a homeless drug addict. He was found this morning covered in blood. No witnesses, no leads. The victim’s taken a drug – it’s sufficiently strong that he’s still unaware of what’s happened to him. Lively’s downstairs now booking him in as a drunk and incapable, in the hope that we’ll be able to take a statement in a few hours.’
‘Spice?’ Ava asked.
‘That’s Lively’s theory. Paramedics seemed to agree,’ Salter said.
‘The city’s riddled with it,’ Ava said. ‘Let the drug squad know. If there’s a new batch on the streets that’s turning users violent, they ought to start checking it out.’
‘Salter,’ Callanach said, walking out of the incident room to join them. He hugged her and Salter blushed.
‘Sir,’ she said. ‘Nice to see you again, but I’d better get going. I need to write up my notes, and DS Lively’ll go off on one if there’s no coffee ready when he comes up from the cells.’ She hustled away into the kitchenette.
‘Wow,’ Ava said, turning to Callanach. ‘Are you okay? That’s the most emotional I’ve seen you since … ever, actually.’
‘You’re funny,’ Callanach said. ‘Should she be back so soon, though? After all she went through and the loss of the baby.’
‘Give her time,’ Ava said. ‘I suspect she’s pressing the bruise to see how much it hurts. Keep an eye on her. Let me know if you think there’s a problem. Salter’s a good detective. We need officers like her.’
DC Max Tripp poked his head out of the incident room and called to them. ‘Ma’am, we’ve got some background on Zoey Cole and her stepfather, Christopher Myers. You’re going to want to hear this straight away,’ he said.
Zoey Cole lay on a trolley beneath a sheet. Ava and Callanach stood silently, waiting for Jonty Spurr to join them. A worker from the domestic violence shelter had provided an up-to-date photo, and attended the previous evening to positively identify the body.
‘Good morning to you both,’ Jonty said, snapping on gloves as he entered. ‘Public records have Zoey as eighteen years of age and I would concur with that. In addition, I spoke to the shelter worker who attended yesterday.’ Jonty flicked through his notes. ‘Here we are, a Miss Sandra Tilly. She explained that Zoey had complained of pain in her hands from badly reset finger fractures on her left hand. I found three old breaks, I suspect from two separate incidents in time. In addition, four healed rib fractures and a probable broken nose, although that one is always harder to be sure about.’
‘Makes sense,’ Ava said. ‘Zoey was living at the shelter having left home. She claimed that her stepfather had been violent to her over a number of years. Mother was aware but did nothing to correct the situation.’
‘There was never a police investigation?’ Jonty asked.
‘No. Zoey didn’t want to press charges because her mother was still living there,’ Ava said.
‘MIT hasn’t spoken to the stepfather or mother in person yet,’ Callanach added. ‘Uniforms went round yesterday and notified them of the death. That was before we had the full story. We wanted to get the facts from you before following up with a formal interview of the stepfather.’
‘You may want to hold fire on that. I’ve been making my own enquiries overnight, but they’ve come up blank so far. Let me show you what we’re dealing with.’
Jonty removed the sheet to reveal Zoey’s naked body. The skin on her abdomen that had peeled back and lost its form had been laid back down and repositioned to reveal an outline.
‘What the fuck?’ Ava said, stepping closer to look directly down onto it.
‘My exact words when I began laying the skin flat,’ Jonty said.
Dried blood around the incision added a freakish outline to the miniature figure cut from Zoey’s skin. A head shape had been taken from the area between her ribcages. Tiny arms spanned
