wasn't something that she could define in a picture.
19
Review
Geraldine stared at the e-fit until the image went blurry. She picked it up and held it at arm's length then replaced it on her desk. Shaking her head, she pulled her notebook out of her bag. She'd never believed John Drew was guilty and Heather Spencer's statement seemed to confirm her reservations about him. Reading what she'd written about him, she put a question mark by John Drew's name and added to her notes.
WITNESS Heather Spencer TIME 9.45? odd
watching lips – deaf? foreign? funny eyes
scar – top lip, vertical, old fight?
About 40? Muscular?
E-fit – too vague?
She put her pencil down and sighed. Too many question marks.
Heather Spencer was a credible witness. It was a pity she didn't have better visual recall of the man she'd passed in the park. Geraldine followed up the leads from her description, searching for a man with a scar on his top lip. If it was a relatively recent injury, and he was local, she hoped they'd be able to trace him quickly, although she knew it was a slim chance. The local hospitals were co-operative, but it turned out to be a predictably wild goose chase. They widened the search but she knew it could take months. Even if they succeeded in tracking down the man Heather Spencer had seen in the park, he might have nothing to do with Angela Waters' murder.
'Can you describe the nature of the injury? Where exactly was the scar? How old was it? Was the injury sustained in a fight? Could it have been due to a congenital abnormality?' The hospital administrators spoke rapidly, rushing the constables through a list of questions.
The impression that the man in the park hadn't understood Heather Spencer suggested he might be a foreigner. Perhaps he was just passing through the area, leaving a gruesome calling card. Geraldine frowned at her notes, rejecting the idea that they might never identify this murderer who had slipped away, leaving no clues. Something was buzzing in her brain, a feeling she'd seen or heard something that might help lead them to the killer, if she could only remember what it was.
Closing her eyes to clear her head, she saw a pale thin form lying on a mortuary table, imagined Angela's terror, silenced by a hand slapped over her mouth, her helplessness at being dragged off her feet, the dread she must have experienced at the end. Thinking about the victim's history of abuse, Geraldine was consumed by a rage to discover who had committed the final atrocity. Nothing could restore Angela Waters' chance of a better life, but at least her killer could be punished. There had to be some justice for Angela.
As she sifted through her memory, the DCI came to fetch her for a meeting with the press. None of Angela Waters' family were available to join them for an appeal so they weren't being televised. Nevertheless, it was a daunting prospect. Geraldine nervously patted her hair in place.
'Ready, ma'am.'
'The nationals are here,' the DCI said. They were all pleased at the coverage. The more publicity they generated, the more co-operation they could expect from the public. Geraldine thought of the tapes she'd been forced to sit through. No doubt there'd be plenty more spurious calls and misinformation. But, somehow, they would find him. If there was a chance an appeal through the newspapers might produce results, she was glad to do it. She'd read through endless statements and listen willingly to any number of tapes, if it helped. She owed it to that silent figure in the mortuary. Gritting her teeth, she marched into the briefing room.
The press conference passed in a blur.
'What are the police doing to find Angela Waters' killer?'
'We're doing everything we can,' Kathryn Gordon assured them. 'We're leaving no stone unturned.'
Geraldine remembered playing on a pebble beach as a child, lifting up stone
19
Review
Geraldine stared at the e-fit until the image went blurry. She picked it up and held it at arm's length then replaced it on her desk. Shaking her head, she pulled her notebook out of her bag. She'd never believed John Drew was guilty and Heather Spencer's statement seemed to confirm her reservations about him. Reading what she'd written about him, she put a question mark by John Drew's name and added to her notes.
WITNESS Heather Spencer TIME 9.45? odd
watching lips – deaf? foreign? funny eyes
scar – top lip, vertical, old fight?
About 40? Muscular?
E-fit – too vague?
She put her pencil down and sighed. Too many question marks.
Heather Spencer was a credible witness. It was a pity she didn't have better visual recall of the man she'd passed in the park. Geraldine followed up the leads from her description, searching for a man with a scar on his top lip. If it was a relatively recent injury, and he was local, she hoped they'd be able to trace him quickly, although she knew it was a slim chance. The local hospitals were co-operative, but it turned out to be a predictably wild goose chase. They widened the search but she knew it could take months. Even if they succeeded in tracking down the man Heather Spencer had seen in the park, he might have nothing to do with Angela Waters' murder.
'Can you describe the nature of the injury? Where exactly was the scar? How old was it? Was the injury sustained in a fight? Could it have been due to a congenital abnormality?' The hospital administrators spoke rapidly, rushing the constables through a list of questions.
The impression that the man in the park hadn't understood Heather Spencer suggested he might be a foreigner. Perhaps he was just passing through the area, leaving a gruesome calling card. Geraldine frowned at her notes, rejecting the idea that they might never identify this murderer who had slipped away, leaving no clues. Something was buzzing in her brain, a feeling she'd seen or heard something that might help lead them to the killer, if she could only remember what it was.
Closing her eyes to clear her head, she saw a pale thin form lying on a mortuary table, imagined Angela's terror, silenced by a hand slapped over her mouth, her helplessness at being dragged off her feet, the dread she must have experienced at the end. Thinking about the victim's history of abuse, Geraldine was consumed by a rage to discover who had committed the final atrocity. Nothing could restore Angela Waters' chance of a better life, but at least her killer could be punished. There had to be some justice for Angela.
As she sifted through her memory, the DCI came to fetch her for a meeting with the press. None of Angela Waters' family were available to join them for an appeal so they weren't being televised. Nevertheless, it was a daunting prospect. Geraldine nervously patted her hair in place.
'Ready, ma'am.'
'The nationals are here,' the DCI said. They were all pleased at the coverage. The more publicity they generated, the more co-operation they could expect from the public. Geraldine thought of the tapes she'd been forced to sit through. No doubt there'd be plenty more spurious calls and misinformation. But, somehow, they would find him. If there was a chance an appeal through the newspapers might produce results, she was glad to do it. She'd read through endless statements and listen willingly to any number of tapes, if it helped. She owed it to that silent figure in the mortuary. Gritting her teeth, she marched into the briefing room.
The press conference passed in a blur.
'What are the police doing to find Angela Waters' killer?'
'We're doing everything we can,' Kathryn Gordon assured them. 'We're leaving no stone unturned.'
Geraldine remembered playing on a pebble beach as a child, lifting up stone
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