At Your Door. J. Carter P.

about thirty seconds she knelt down to examine the body and the area around it.

      Anna looked on from a distance, knowing that Gayle did not like to be distracted during the initial assessment. As with all good forensic pathologists she was methodical in her approach and would never express an opinion or answer a question until she was good and ready.

      Eventually, Gayle spoke without looking up.

      ‘Well, the level of decomposition and other factors relating to the state of the body suggest to me that this poor lass has been dead for three or four days. And there’s little doubt in my mind that the cause of death was a stab wound to the left side of the throat. It looks as though the blade probably severed a carotid artery and penetrated the trachea. I’ll know for sure when I carry out the post-mortem. Death would have been fairly quick and there would have been a lot of blood.’

      ‘It’s now Friday so we’re talking Tuesday or Wednesday,’ Anna said.

      Gayle nodded. ‘My guess would be Tuesday or Tuesday night. It’s rained only once this week and that was on Wednesday morning. There are streaks on her flesh where it washed away the detritus that had accumulated. The body was clearly dumped here and that would have happened a short time after she was killed, probably a matter of hours. I reckon she was stripped to remove all trace evidence. And it’s likely she was wrapped in a blanket or plastic sheeting while being transported here.’

      A cold chill crept over Anna’s shoulders and down her neck. As always she found it a struggle to remain emotionally detached from the distressing sight that she was being forced to bear witness to.

      ‘Is there any evidence of defence wounds?’ she asked.

      ‘None that I can see,’ Gayle said. ‘But I’ll know for sure after she’s cleaned up.’

      ‘What about signs of sexual assault?’

      ‘Nothing that’s obvious. There’s definitely no bruising on her inner thighs which is usually a tell-tale sign.’

      As Anna made notes, Gayle asked a forensics officer to help her turn the body over. As they did so Anna saw that the flattened undergrowth beneath it was swarming with insects.

      ‘She’s got a tattoo,’ Gayle said, and Anna had to step forward and lean over to see it.

      The tattoo was at the top of her back between her shoulder blades. It was a simple three-word design in sinuous Gothic script.

      BELIEVE IN YOURSELF

      ‘Hopefully that will help you to identify her,’ Gayle said.

      Anna took a photo of the tattoo with her phone. She then attached it to a text that she sent back to headquarters.

      Gayle drew her attention to the fact that the dead woman was wearing a silver ring on the middle finger of her left hand.

      ‘That looks like an expensive piece of bling to me,’ she said as Anna photographed it. ‘You’ll notice also that her nails are painted and her teeth are in good shape. She seems well nourished and there are no needle marks on her arms. So I don’t think she was a homeless person or a druggy.’

      Anna looked up as a plane roared overhead, probably on its way to Heathrow airport. She also noticed that the light was fading from the sky. At the same time forensics officers were preparing for nightfall by setting up portable lamps.

      Anna knew that the search for clues, even in this small section of the wood, was going to be long and laborious. The person or persons who had left the victim here would have taken care to clear their tracks. And any evidence that had been left behind had probably been contaminated or destroyed by the weather and wildlife.

      There was no point her hanging around so she decided to leave the scene to the experts. Gayle told her she would arrange for the body to be removed and said she’d phone if she discovered anything significant.

      ‘I’ll give the post-mortem priority,’ Gayle added. ‘That means I should have her on the table by late tomorrow morning.’

      ‘Terrific,’ Anna said. ‘I’ll try to make a point of being there.’

      Back at the roadside, Walker informed her that he’d arranged for the road to be closed at either end for the rest of the night. And Sweeny told her that she’d found out the common was owned by the Dean and Chapter of St Paul’s Cathedral.

      ‘It’s managed by the London Borough of Richmond-upon-Thames,’ she said. ‘An official is on his way here to open the gate so we can move vehicles onto the field.’

      Anna looked out across the common, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before the sun vanished below the horizon. But it was still warm and she could feel a tear of sweat trickling down her back.

      She was about to fill Walker and Sweeny in on what Gayle had told her when her phone rang. She looked at the screen. It was DC Fellows, calling from headquarters with some unexpected news.

      ‘We’ve got a probable ID on the victim, ma’am,’ he said. ‘And I guarantee you’re not going to like it.’

       CHAPTER FIVE

      For the second time in as many days Sophie Cameron had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being watched.

      She’d felt it yesterday when she strolled from her flat to the mini-mart on the corner. By the time she got there the familiar tingling sensation in her neck had spread through her body.

      Now, as she walked briskly along Shoreditch High Street, she felt it again. But just as before it didn’t appear as though she had seized the attention of any of her fellow pedestrians.

      She kept stopping to look back along the street and across the road. There were quite a few dubious-looking characters, both men and women, but none of them seemed interested in her.

      That didn’t mean she was imagining it, though. She knew from bitter experience that her instincts were sometimes spot on, especially when it came to Him.

      He had managed to track her down twice before, so had he done it again? Had he somehow located her in a city of nearly nine million people?

      The only person who knew that she was living and working in this part of East London was Lisa. And there was no way her best friend would ever tell anyone. Besides, even Lisa didn’t know her address or where exactly she worked. And whenever they met for a drink, which was about once a month, Lisa always took care to make sure she was never followed.

      Sophie stopped again to look behind her, but it was so sudden that a large woman clutching a carrier bag bumped into her.

      ‘I’m so sorry,’ Sophie said. ‘I didn’t mean …’

      ‘You should be more careful,’ the woman snapped. ‘In case you haven’t noticed you’re not the only person on the pavement.’

      The woman pushed past her and hurried on ahead, one of hundreds of people on the High Street who were anxious to get wherever they were going.

      It was the tail-end of the evening rush hour so the main artery through Shoreditch was at its busiest. As Sophie scanned the unfamiliar faces of those who swept past her, she was forced to concede that even if she was being watched or followed, she probably wouldn’t be able to spot her stalker.

      She just had to hope that it was indeed all in her mind, an unfounded bout of paranoia fuelled yet again by the fear that she hadn’t seen the last of the demon from her past.

      She needed a distraction so she fumbled in her handbag for her phone and earplugs. Then she started listening to her favourite Ed Sheeran tracks as she set off again. It was still only six-forty-five so at least she wasn’t going to be late.

      The dental clinic was around the next corner. On Thursday evenings she did the cleaning after the place closed for business. It was one of several