like she does. And it wasn't my fault I happened on that dead woman, is it?’
‘I can't see that you let your son take any unnecessary risk –’
‘I didn't, but you try telling her that. She'll never let me take him to the rec ground again, and I've bought him a new kite. Where the hell else are we going to fly it? I mean, I'm taking him there and that's that, but there's no point stirring up a hornet's nest if I can possibly avoid it. I know she's only trying to protect the boy, but he can't stay in the house all the time, stuck in front of the telly. It's not healthy for a young kid. And it's not as if he saw anything. He was waiting on the grass when I went into the trees looking for the kite and that's when I found it. Her, I should say. It gave me quite a turn. I mean, you don't expect to find dead bodies lying around like that, do you?’
Shocked into taciturnity when he had stumbled on Abigail Kirby's corpse, David Whittaker had recovered from his alarm and was eager to talk. But for all his chatter, he had nothing new to tell them. ‘All I wanted to do was get my boy home. I couldn't think about anything else.’
‘We know the body had been lying there overnight when you found her,’ Peterson said. ‘But killers often wait around to watch what happens so it's possible you may have seen him. Can you remember anyone hanging around the area?’
‘No. As far as I can remember, it was deserted, apart from me and Zac.’
‘Did you notice any cars parked along the road when you arrived?’ The mechanic shook his head. ‘No cars at all?’
‘There might've been, but I don't remember. I usually notice cars,’ he waved his dirty rag at the one he was working on. ‘But to be honest, I was more concerned about my boy. I'm sorry I can't be more help.’
They thanked David Whittaker and left, disappointed but not surprised.
‘That was a waste of time,’ Peterson blew out his cheeks and crossed his arms as he sat back irritably in his seat. Geraldine stared out of the window, thinking about David Whittaker and his son, excited about flying a kite together. She wondered who her own father was, and whether he was still alive. Perhaps even her birth mother didn't know his identity.
That evening, Geraldine assumed Paul Hilliard was calling to tell her the body had afforded some new piece of evidence. She wondered why he was phoning her on her private number.
‘Have you found something?’
‘No, nothing new – but I have a few ideas. The thing is, Geraldine, I find it hard not to think about cases like this when I'm involved, doing the autopsy I mean. I can't help wondering what could have possessed someone to do this. It's been playing on my mind.’ He paused. Geraldine waited, uncertain what he was getting at. ‘It must be the same for you. It must be hard to switch off.’
‘Well yes,’ Geraldine answered awkwardly. Usually she did tend to obsess over the victims in her cases, but she had allowed Abigail Kirby's fate to be overshadowed by her preoccupation with her own past – and by her interest in Paul Hilliard. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘But you've got your sergeant, and a whole team to talk it over with.’
Geraldine smiled, remembering the doctor's clear-cut features, and the way his eyes had held her gaze. ‘It must be hard for you, wondering about it by yourself,’ she ventured.
‘Well, yes, I suppose, when you put it like that –’
‘We could discuss your ideas, if you like?’ She held her breath.
‘That would be great. I'd really like to mull it over, if you have time. Perhaps we could meet up for a drink?’
Geraldine grinned but she kept her voice steady. ‘Why not?’ It never did any harm to see the evidence through another pair of eyes, and the doctor's views might help them start to find a lead to the killer.
‘That's the only reason I agreed to meet him on Friday,’ Geraldine explained to her friend, Hannah, when they spoke later.
‘Oh yes, a date with a sexy doctor
‘I can't see that you let your son take any unnecessary risk –’
‘I didn't, but you try telling her that. She'll never let me take him to the rec ground again, and I've bought him a new kite. Where the hell else are we going to fly it? I mean, I'm taking him there and that's that, but there's no point stirring up a hornet's nest if I can possibly avoid it. I know she's only trying to protect the boy, but he can't stay in the house all the time, stuck in front of the telly. It's not healthy for a young kid. And it's not as if he saw anything. He was waiting on the grass when I went into the trees looking for the kite and that's when I found it. Her, I should say. It gave me quite a turn. I mean, you don't expect to find dead bodies lying around like that, do you?’
Shocked into taciturnity when he had stumbled on Abigail Kirby's corpse, David Whittaker had recovered from his alarm and was eager to talk. But for all his chatter, he had nothing new to tell them. ‘All I wanted to do was get my boy home. I couldn't think about anything else.’
‘We know the body had been lying there overnight when you found her,’ Peterson said. ‘But killers often wait around to watch what happens so it's possible you may have seen him. Can you remember anyone hanging around the area?’
‘No. As far as I can remember, it was deserted, apart from me and Zac.’
‘Did you notice any cars parked along the road when you arrived?’ The mechanic shook his head. ‘No cars at all?’
‘There might've been, but I don't remember. I usually notice cars,’ he waved his dirty rag at the one he was working on. ‘But to be honest, I was more concerned about my boy. I'm sorry I can't be more help.’
They thanked David Whittaker and left, disappointed but not surprised.
‘That was a waste of time,’ Peterson blew out his cheeks and crossed his arms as he sat back irritably in his seat. Geraldine stared out of the window, thinking about David Whittaker and his son, excited about flying a kite together. She wondered who her own father was, and whether he was still alive. Perhaps even her birth mother didn't know his identity.
That evening, Geraldine assumed Paul Hilliard was calling to tell her the body had afforded some new piece of evidence. She wondered why he was phoning her on her private number.
‘Have you found something?’
‘No, nothing new – but I have a few ideas. The thing is, Geraldine, I find it hard not to think about cases like this when I'm involved, doing the autopsy I mean. I can't help wondering what could have possessed someone to do this. It's been playing on my mind.’ He paused. Geraldine waited, uncertain what he was getting at. ‘It must be the same for you. It must be hard to switch off.’
‘Well yes,’ Geraldine answered awkwardly. Usually she did tend to obsess over the victims in her cases, but she had allowed Abigail Kirby's fate to be overshadowed by her preoccupation with her own past – and by her interest in Paul Hilliard. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘But you've got your sergeant, and a whole team to talk it over with.’
Geraldine smiled, remembering the doctor's clear-cut features, and the way his eyes had held her gaze. ‘It must be hard for you, wondering about it by yourself,’ she ventured.
‘Well, yes, I suppose, when you put it like that –’
‘We could discuss your ideas, if you like?’ She held her breath.
‘That would be great. I'd really like to mull it over, if you have time. Perhaps we could meet up for a drink?’
Geraldine grinned but she kept her voice steady. ‘Why not?’ It never did any harm to see the evidence through another pair of eyes, and the doctor's views might help them start to find a lead to the killer.
‘That's the only reason I agreed to meet him on Friday,’ Geraldine explained to her friend, Hannah, when they spoke later.
‘Oh yes, a date with a sexy doctor
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