to shout him down.
‘I know! I was there!’ she yelled. ‘And he asked for me, if you must know.’
He stared. ‘Oh, that’s priceless.’
Janet shouted over him. ‘And because I came that close and survived, I will do it for all the others who weren’t so lucky.’
‘Oh, very noble,’ he sneered. ‘You don’t see, do you? He’s playing you, Janet. Some sick little mind game, another way to make you dance to his tune. Just like you did when he first asked you to help.’
‘What’s all the shouting?’ Elise said, coming in, fourteen yet sounding like someone’s mother.
‘Nothing.’ Janet warned Ade with a glare that she didn’t want to share this with the children. ‘Go wake Taisie.’
‘She doesn’t need to get up yet,’ Elise said.
‘I don’t care!’ Janet bawled, anger boiling inside her. Resisting the overwhelming desire to seize her daughter and shake some sense into her. ‘Just do it, Elise.’
‘Not if you shout like that. I’m sick of you bossing me about.’
‘Do what I tell you to! I’m sick too, sick of you arguing over every bloody little thing.’ Janet’s throat felt raw.
Elise glared at her, her face reddening, and Janet felt a rush of guilt. What the hell was she doing taking it out on Elise?
Her daughter left the room without a word.
‘Nicely done,’ Ade said.
Janet couldn’t handle it. If she stayed she was scared she’d break something. She picked up her car keys and left, the roar of her own anger still crashing loud in her head and roiling hot in her stomach.
‘Right, lads.’ Gill called them to attention. ‘No ANPR, nothing from traffic cameras or patrols since three twenty-nine yesterday. How come?’
‘Laying low, parked up somewhere overnight,’ said Rachel.
Or busy getting rid of the kids? ‘We are increasing patrols in the Lancashire/South Lakes area and, of course, continuing to examine coverage anywhere close to the two locations, Penrith and then Ribbleton. Mr Cottam is coming in to film an appeal late morning, which should be carried on all lunchtime news broadcasts, and of course headlines thereafter. Crime scene reports are now available.’ Gill summarized the substance for them. ‘Our initial theory of the sequence is supported by the blood spatter analysis. Time of deaths estimated to be between four and six a.m. Rigor not fully established and factoring in the ambient temperature I think we can be pretty sure that’s a solid estimate.’
‘Why did he cut Michael’s throat and not the others?’ Mitch said.
‘Didn’t like him,’ said Kevin.
‘No animosity according to the mother,’ said Janet, ‘though the friend Lynn thought Michael might occasionally have got on his nerves.’
‘Well, would you want your brother-in-law living with you, working with you? Especially if he was a bit mental,’ Kevin said.
Before anyone could respond to that, Rachel said quickly, ‘The body, he was on his side, right? But the girl was on her stomach, the wife on her back . . .’
‘Yes.’ Gill watched as Rachel spoke. She’d a keen instinct for things, Rachel, a gift that could sometimes lead her astray, trusting her gut feeling, and she could get stuck stubbornly on one track, but on many occasions her contributions were incisive and valuable.
‘. . . so if someone’s on their side how do you stab ’em? It’s all ribs, isn’t it? He went for the most accessible and vulnerable spot, so the man wouldn’t wake or fight, or the knife get stuck.’
It happened, Gill knew, one of the many surprises that tripped up the novice killer. Those who had not been taught to use weapons. The fact that knives got lodged in bones, or glanced off, or snapped at the tip. That very quickly a knife would become slippery with blood and hard to grip. Same with firearms – mechanisms jammed, a gunshot without a silencer rendered the shooter unable to hear for several hours. The recoil could damage the arm, burn the skin on the hand. Then there was
‘I know! I was there!’ she yelled. ‘And he asked for me, if you must know.’
He stared. ‘Oh, that’s priceless.’
Janet shouted over him. ‘And because I came that close and survived, I will do it for all the others who weren’t so lucky.’
‘Oh, very noble,’ he sneered. ‘You don’t see, do you? He’s playing you, Janet. Some sick little mind game, another way to make you dance to his tune. Just like you did when he first asked you to help.’
‘What’s all the shouting?’ Elise said, coming in, fourteen yet sounding like someone’s mother.
‘Nothing.’ Janet warned Ade with a glare that she didn’t want to share this with the children. ‘Go wake Taisie.’
‘She doesn’t need to get up yet,’ Elise said.
‘I don’t care!’ Janet bawled, anger boiling inside her. Resisting the overwhelming desire to seize her daughter and shake some sense into her. ‘Just do it, Elise.’
‘Not if you shout like that. I’m sick of you bossing me about.’
‘Do what I tell you to! I’m sick too, sick of you arguing over every bloody little thing.’ Janet’s throat felt raw.
Elise glared at her, her face reddening, and Janet felt a rush of guilt. What the hell was she doing taking it out on Elise?
Her daughter left the room without a word.
‘Nicely done,’ Ade said.
Janet couldn’t handle it. If she stayed she was scared she’d break something. She picked up her car keys and left, the roar of her own anger still crashing loud in her head and roiling hot in her stomach.
‘Right, lads.’ Gill called them to attention. ‘No ANPR, nothing from traffic cameras or patrols since three twenty-nine yesterday. How come?’
‘Laying low, parked up somewhere overnight,’ said Rachel.
Or busy getting rid of the kids? ‘We are increasing patrols in the Lancashire/South Lakes area and, of course, continuing to examine coverage anywhere close to the two locations, Penrith and then Ribbleton. Mr Cottam is coming in to film an appeal late morning, which should be carried on all lunchtime news broadcasts, and of course headlines thereafter. Crime scene reports are now available.’ Gill summarized the substance for them. ‘Our initial theory of the sequence is supported by the blood spatter analysis. Time of deaths estimated to be between four and six a.m. Rigor not fully established and factoring in the ambient temperature I think we can be pretty sure that’s a solid estimate.’
‘Why did he cut Michael’s throat and not the others?’ Mitch said.
‘Didn’t like him,’ said Kevin.
‘No animosity according to the mother,’ said Janet, ‘though the friend Lynn thought Michael might occasionally have got on his nerves.’
‘Well, would you want your brother-in-law living with you, working with you? Especially if he was a bit mental,’ Kevin said.
Before anyone could respond to that, Rachel said quickly, ‘The body, he was on his side, right? But the girl was on her stomach, the wife on her back . . .’
‘Yes.’ Gill watched as Rachel spoke. She’d a keen instinct for things, Rachel, a gift that could sometimes lead her astray, trusting her gut feeling, and she could get stuck stubbornly on one track, but on many occasions her contributions were incisive and valuable.
‘. . . so if someone’s on their side how do you stab ’em? It’s all ribs, isn’t it? He went for the most accessible and vulnerable spot, so the man wouldn’t wake or fight, or the knife get stuck.’
It happened, Gill knew, one of the many surprises that tripped up the novice killer. Those who had not been taught to use weapons. The fact that knives got lodged in bones, or glanced off, or snapped at the tip. That very quickly a knife would become slippery with blood and hard to grip. Same with firearms – mechanisms jammed, a gunshot without a silencer rendered the shooter unable to hear for several hours. The recoil could damage the arm, burn the skin on the hand. Then there was
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