Case One Read Free Page A

uniformed regs in attendance now and the crowd of onlookers had been moved back from the roadside. Under their gaze Holly suddenly felt exposed, and because she wasn’t sure what else to do now she opened the girl’s purse to look inside. There were a few loose coins and a laminated bus pass. The photo it carried wasn’t very good but it was clearly the injured girl. Her name was printed underneath: Ashleigh Jarvis.
    â€œAll right, Holly?” Sergeant Stafford had approached while she was still looking at the bus pass.
    â€œYes, Sarge,” she said, trying to make it sound as positive as she could. “I found some ID. Her name’s Ashleigh Jarvis.”
    She handed the purse and bus pass to Stafford who looked at them, then nodded. “Good. Means we can find her family. She’ll be going to the Vic, so I want you to go with her in the ambulance. I’ll send a reg down as soon as I can but we need to deal with the scene. All you have to do is stay on hand and if there’s any significant change in her condition let me know, okay?”
    â€œYes, Sarge,” Holly said.
    The stretcher was in the ambulance now and as Blanche closed one of the back doors she called out: “Eddie?” She was ready to go.
    Stafford looked, then gave a wave. He turned back to Holly. “Okay ­– gob shut, ears open, and don’t get in their way. Got it?”
    â€œYes, Sarge,” Holly said, and she ran to get in the ambulance.

5
    â€œYeah, it’s me,” Drew Alford said into his phone as he emerged from the stairwell. He was alone now. Tyler lived two floors below.
    â€œThat thing you wanted. It’s done… Nah, it was fine, we just did what you said… Yeah… When?… Okay, I’ll see you then.”
    He rang off as he reached the third door along the landing and took a worn Yale key from his pocket. He shoved it into the lock and twisted, pushing the door open as he did so.
    Inside the flat Alford looked into the sitting room, then the double bedroom. Both were empty as he’d known they would be as soon as he’d walked in and not heard the telly. Gone down the pub, probably. Well that was okay. It suited him.
    In the kitchen he went to the washing machine and squatted down to look inside. There was a pile of wet laundry in the drum, washed but not spun. He thought about it for a beat, then opened the door and pulled the damp clothes out onto the cracked vinyl floor.
    Standing up, he stripped off the clothes he was wearing, pushing each item into the machine as he took it off: trainers, socks, jeans, T-shirt, hoodie. He put his mobile, fags, lighter and a small amount of loose change on the worktop.
    When he was down to his pants he searched the cluttered and untidy worktop for the washing powder and couldn’t find it. He swore, then squatted and searched the cupboards underneath, finally locating the box under the sink.
    Without measuring he poured powder into the dispenser drawer of the washing machine and rammed it home. Then he took off his pants, chucked them in with the rest of his clothes and set the machine to its highest and longest setting. For a moment nothing happened, but then there was a click and a hum and the sound of water under pressure.
    Alford waited there, naked, until he was sure that water was filling the drum, then he padded barefoot to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The spray head was old and only half the jets worked. While he waited for the water to warm up he looked at himself in the mirror.
    He examined his lean body from different angles, checking that there were no marks. He’d been pretty sure there wouldn’t be, but it was as well to make certain.
    To his own eye he reckoned he had a good body; pretty bloody decent. So it was just a shame it’d had to be that way. She didn’t know what she’d missed. Fucking shame.
    He chuckled when he realised he’d made a pun and turned away from