The Murder House. Michael Wood

up through the glass and saw the young TDC Finn Cotton at Faith’s old desk, staring intently at his computer screen. ‘We’ll use Finn for all the photos so nothing is missed. Sian, can you liaise with him?’

      ‘Not a problem.’ She was about to leave the office when Matilda called her back in.

      ‘Close the door, Sian,’ Matilda said. She lowered her voice. ‘While you’re both here, I need to ask a favour. Now, we all know how bad the scene was yesterday, but you two are my toughest officers.’

      ‘I don’t know about that,’ Sian interrupted. ‘I was crying on Stuart’s shoulder for most of the night.’

      ‘I just went to bed early. Jennifer knows not to ask about work. I talk to her when I’m ready.’

      ‘I’m worried about Scott and Rory,’ Matilda said. ‘They were both quiet yesterday and this morning. I don’t want them bottling anything up. They’re also not the type to freely talk about how they’re feeling, especially Scott. Now, I think we should limit the amount of people going to the crime scene. Aaron went to the house but didn’t go inside, neither did Ranjeet. So we’ll keep them here. The less people caught up in this the better.’

      ‘I agree,’ Christian said. ‘Well, I’ll keep an eye on Scott and Sian can keep an eye on Rory.’

      ‘And I’ll keep an eye on the both of you,’ Matilda smiled.

      ‘But’s who’s watching the watcher?’ Christian asked, a menacing tone added to his voice.

      Matilda’s mobile rang. It was ACC Masterson. She held it up and showed them both. ‘That’s who’s watching me.’

       Chapter Thirteen

      Matilda met with Crime Scene Manager Sebastian Flowers outside the Mercers’ house. He looked as if he had been there all night. Usually clean-shaven and neat hair, his black mane was uncombed, and his stubble was patchy. Strangely, the unkempt look suited him.

      ‘My wife’s two days overdue. I keep seeing red patches every time I close my eyes and I haven’t had a decent meal since breakfast yesterday morning.’

      ‘Oh. Good morning to you too, Sebastian,’ Matilda said as she approached him.

      ‘The bodies have gone and forensics finished up about an hour ago. You’re still going to need overshoes and a face mask,’ he said before disappearing into the house.

      ‘Really?’

      ‘Unless you want to ruin your shoes.’

      She glanced down at her cheap, sturdy slip-ons. ‘They’re hardly Jimmy Choos, but fair enough.’

      In the hallway, Matilda looked at the framed photographs on the wall as she struggled into the paper suit. There was a different atmosphere to the house now the bodies had been removed. There was still a chilling darkness about the place, a sense that something horrific had happened here, but the immediate tension had lifted and been replaced with a great sadness.

      The framed photographs on the walls showed the family at different stages in their lives. There was one of a handsome young man wearing his graduation outfit of cap and gown. His smile was beaming, and he was flanked either side by proud parents. They were now all dead. Butchered. Usually, Matilda reserved judgement as to the type of person who could commit this level of crime, but now, here, she didn’t care what excuse he used, was he mentally ill, high on drugs, to her, he was an evil, cold-blooded killer, and she would relish catching him.

      ‘I do have other crime scenes to attend,’ Sebastian called to her from the bottom of the stairs.

      ‘Sorry. I was looking at the photos.’

      ‘OK,’ he began, reading from his iPad, ‘this is where Jeremy Mercer was found. As you can see he lost a lot of blood, so the killer hit his target. Jeremy wasn’t stabbed as many times as his parents, but Adele can fill you in on that. Why is he on the stairs? Well, best guess is that he got up in the middle of the night and surprised the killer. There’s no sign of a head wound, so he wasn’t pushed or fell down the stairs. As you can see from the stains on the stairs there are some good shoe prints. Hopefully, we’ll be able to identify what kind of shoes. You can see the distinctive Nike tick logo in one on the landing.’

      ‘What about fingerprints?’ Matilda asked as Sebastian made his way carefully up the stairs.

      ‘This was a high traffic area. Don’t forget, there was a wedding here on Sunday. People will have been up and down the stairs on a regular basis. The bannister is covered with prints. None of them identifiable.’

      ‘Point of entry?’

      Sebastian stopped once again mid-way up the stairs. He gave an audible sigh. ‘The marquee at the back of the house. The patio doors were open. The front door was locked and bolted from the inside. Nothing broken on any of the windows. No sign of forced entry. It’s all in my report which is in your inbox. Onwards and upwards,’ he said in a flat monotone as he returned to going up to the first floor.

      Matilda remained where she was, looking at the amount of blood soaked into the carpet, and sprayed onto the walls. She wondered what had killed him: the loss of blood as his heart stopped pumping – a slow and agonizing death – or the stab wounds. She took a deep breath and headed up the stairs. She knew the sight that would greet her: the pool of blood where Clive Mercer had been murdered. As Sebastian was in the doorway of the room Rachel was found in, she went straight in there, leaving the horrors of what lay on the landing until she needed to see it.

      Reading from his iPad again, Sebastian ran through what had been found in this room. ‘As you know Rachel Mercer was found tied to the chair. She was tied with a dressing gown belt which matches the one hanging on the back of the door, so the killer didn’t come equipped to tying anyone up. It’s been sent for analysis. There are three sets of identifiable latent fingerprints on the bedside table, fortunately it’s a nice smooth silk finish so we’ve been able to get some prints.’

      The bed had been stripped of the bedding, including the mattress, so all that remained was the oak frame. There was no blood on the walls, but the carpet was stained with flecks of blood and small bloody paw prints.

      Although Matilda was listening to the crime scene manager, her eyes were darting around the room. She wondered how long Rachel had been held prisoner here: what had she been forced to endure? Had she known all along that her family had been killed? If the murders had taken place in the early hours of Sunday morning and Rose hadn’t found them until just before ten o’clock, that was possibly six to eight hours of being tied to a chair, terrified, cold and hungry. What would that do to her mental health?

      ‘Did you hear what I said?’

      ‘Yes, you’ve got good prints from the bedside table.’

      ‘No. I was telling you about the stains in the carpet.’

      ‘Oh. Sorry. Go on.’

      Sebastian rolled his eyes. ‘As you can see, forensics have cut a patch out of the carpet. Depending on what they get from them they may need to come back for more. This is going to need to remain an active crime scene for a while.’

      ‘Not a problem.’

      ‘The little girl—’ he looked down at his iPad. ‘Rachel. She wasn’t physically harmed in any way. So, identifying the various blood groups will give you information as to who was killed in relation to when Rachel was tied up. No tampering with the window. The main light was on when she was found. Now, this is interesting,’ he said, going to the bedroom door.

      Sebastian closed the door and Matilda suddenly felt her blood run cold. She inhaled a deep breath and held it for several seconds longer than usual. There was the distinct aroma of metallic blood with a hint of dog in the air. She put herself in Rachel’s shoes; trapped in the bedroom, tied to the chair,