The Reborn Read Free Page B

full view.
    The victim was lying on her back, a loose dress drawn above her waist to expose her stomach, or what was left of it. Beside the body lay the whitish coil of an umbilical cord still attached to the plump reddish mass of a placenta. Rhona was still processing the implications of this when Sissons confirmed it.
    ‘Her assailant cut out a foetus.’
    Rhona was shocked. She was used to scenes of violent death, but that didn’t mean she was immune to them. Most Glasgow killings were the result either of drunken violence or turf wars. Rogue males attacking other rogue males with results that filled accident and emergency departments with hideous regularity, giving surgeons plenty of practice in sewing together the victims of Glasgow’s knife culture.
    But she had never seen a knife wielded in such a way before.
    She scanned the floor of the tent, but Sissons shook his head. ‘Whoever did this took it with them.’
    ‘Was it mature enough to be viable?’
    ‘Judging by the size of the placenta, I’d say yes.’
    Rhona breathed deeply and tried to distance herself from the horror of the scene. There was nothing she could do for the victim now apart from carry out her job properly.
    ‘Did the removal of the baby kill her?’
    ‘I don’t see any other wounds. She probably bled out.’ He indicated a small white mask that lay next to the head. ‘Looks like she was knocked out with something first. Smells like stain remover.’
    ‘Chloroform?’
    ‘Probably.’
    ‘I don’t recall any foetal thefts being recorded in the UK, only in the USA.’
    ‘Given time, what happens there happens here.’
    Sissons’s job was to certify death, so he was ready to leave. ‘The PF’s been, so you’ve got the place to yourself.’
    Under Scots law, the Procurator Fiscal determined whether the death was suspicious. Here, his presence would have been a formality. You couldn’t die accidentally from a forced Caesarean section.
    Sissons said goodbye and left her to her own devices. His clipped voice and hankering after a gong often irritated Rhona, but she had to admit he was a consummate professional.
    She would attend the post-mortem, as would the DI in charge of the case, together with a second pathologist for corroboration – a requirement where a death was deemed suspicious.
    Scots law was big on corroboration. The boys on the beat were always moaning about it. There had to be two of you before lifting and charging a suspect, so – unlike in England – you had no chance of pulling someone in, however guilty, if you were on your own.
    She wondered who the officer in charge on the ground might be. Most likely it would be Bill’s replacement, DI Geoffrey Slater; McNab’s nemesis, he was still hanging around like a bad smell.
    Still, that was not her main consideration at the moment. She wasn’t planning to disturb anything but it would be better if the loci had been fully recorded before she set to work. As if on cue she heard footsteps and Roy Hunter’s multiple reflections appeared in advance of the man himself. He answered her unspoken question.
    ‘We’ve taken photos and a spherical recording already, so no worries there.’
    ‘That was fast.’
    ‘We aim to please, especially when the investigating officer is DI Slater.’
    They exchanged a meaningful look.
    ‘Is he planning to open up the back of the tent?’
    Once she had taken samples from the body and its immediate surroundings, it would be useful to have clear access from the back for the other SOCOs.
    ‘When you’re finished.’
    ‘Who discovered her?’
    ‘The boyfriend, apparently. He says she went to buy candyfloss and never reappeared, so he went looking for her. When he discovered she’d bought a ticket for the mirrors he came in to check if she was still in here. He found her shoe first.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘In the next aisle.’
    Rhona imagined the boy’s concern when he found the shoe, turning to horror when he came across the remains of