Dead of Winter Tr Read Free Page B

her.
    ‘Why? What was it about it that appealed?’ Ebony shrugged. She buried her chin further into her scarf. The car was beginning to feel too small. Carter knew she was getting
uncomfortable. It only made him push her a little more. ‘You know, Ebb, we’re going to spend a lot of time sat in this car together. It’s going to get very boring if you
don’t start opening up.’ She turned to see if he was teasing; he was only half smiling. He was watching her intently; seeing how far he could push her before he was in danger of making
her mistrust him. ‘Good detectives need to allow themselves to feel things: emotions, raw stuff. I bet you most detectives in the squad would rather watch a good rom-com than a film where
people blast the shit out of each other. They are sensitive souls – too much, sometimes.’
    ‘I know how things feel.’ She looked at Carter; something about his manner reassured her. She realized he reminded her of a boy she once knew; a boy who’d befriended her in one
of the homes she’d stayed in.
    ‘I’m not having a go at you, Ebb, believe me. I’m just saying, you bring a lot to the table. You’re bright, eager. I can see you know your stuff. You can make it really
work for you as a detective. You’ll get further than I will, that’s for sure. You okay?’
    ‘Fine.’
    ‘Okay . . . What were your initial thoughts when you saw the baby?’
    She sat up: alert. He smiled to himself. If there was one way to get close to Ebony it was through dead bodies. ‘Just delivered. Cord still intact. Grave wax the same as on the
mother’s body, buried the same time. Someone’s dirty secret maybe? Perhaps he got rid of his wife and baby to make room for someone else.’
    ‘He’s got money.’
    ‘Yes, Sarge, and he’s young enough to attract women.’
    ‘Fit enough to bury them under the patio.’
    ‘Over thirty-five, under fifty-five then, Sarge.’
    ‘But why did he choose to kill them here? In this way? If I had money I would go abroad on a holiday and have an accident happen to my wife.’
    Ebony looked towards the house as the front door opened to Blackdown Barn.
    ‘Someone’s on the move, Sarge.’
    They watched a tall frame emerge into the light at the front of the house and start to walk down the drive towards them and the empty car parked behind.
    ‘It’s Trevor Bishop from Forensics. That means SOCOs must have finished the initial search. We can go in, Ebb . . . rock and roll . . . let’s go.’ Carter got out of the
car.
    Bishop was loading bags into his boot.
    ‘You off, Trev?’
    Bishop nodded: ‘Getting back to load these prints into the system.’ He lifted his case in. ‘I’ll see you at the meeting at eight. We’re going to be back-and-forth
here: still need to pick up the rest of the furniture; it has to be done in stages.’ He handed them some more suits from the boot of his car. ‘Change your suits before you go
inside.’
    ‘Will do.’
    Inside the entrance Sandford, the Crime Scene Manager, head of the SOCOs, was dismantling the door to a room on the left.
    ‘How’s it looking, Sandford?’ Carter asked. Sandford didn’t answer and stepped past him into the lounge. ‘This place even
feels
dead.’ Carter stepped
in with him and stood in the middle of the room looking around. ‘Exposed brickwork and low beams. Nightmare to clean. Full of spiders.’
    Sandford didn’t stop what he was doing. He was thinking to himself . . . ‘
Rustic charm lost on him .
. .’ He picked up a power tool and applied his weight to the hinges
of the door. Sandford wasn’t keen on Carter. There was something about him that irritated him. Maybe it was the rattle of his heavy gold signet bracelet or the immaculate hair. Maybe it was
that Sandford was pretty sure Carter had never been to a rugby match in his life; preferred to watch the footie down the pub with his mates probably. Whatever it was . . . it riled him.
    Sandford kept working as he replied: ‘No