Chris Simms - Savage Moon

'I'm not absolutely sure. It's just an image that flashed in my head, but it could have been on the notice board in the car park where Peterson was found.'

'It's the killer. It has to be. Why leave evidence like that at each crime scene?'

'He's making a point, telling us something. And it's so important to him, he doesn't care if it gets him caught.' As he grabbed his jacket he saw Rick getting up too. 'Don't worry mate, I may be wrong. There could be fuck-all there. You finish up your report, it's best you're here when Summerby comes downstairs to hold the briefing.'

'You sure?'

'Yeah, I'll ring you if I find anything.'

Rush hour traffic was beginning to build on the M60 and Jon resorted to the siren a couple of times to shift cars out of the way. By the time he reached Crime Lake, dusk was beginning to fall. Jon found his eyes dragged towards the distant moors, mere shadows in the rapidly gathering gloom.

As he pulled into the car park, he looked around. He always found it slightly unsettling to return to a murder scene and find everything normal once again. It seemed like the violent death of a person should have some permanent effect on the surrounding area. But what? A withering of the undergrowth, a gnarling of the trees, a crumbling of the earth itself? He knew it was absurd. By that logic, the whole country would be dotted with barren patches. Once in France, he and Alice had made a detour to the Somme. The pleasant rolling fields were almost disappointing. Only the silence let you imagine the carnage that had once occurred.

He put the headlights on full and the notice board at the top of the car park shone bright in the beams.

Crime Lake. No Motorbikes.

Already certain the word would be there, he opened the car door and got out, leaving the engine running. The edges of the notice board were covered by a mass of signatures. Wozza. Ruhul. Amie and Jade. Ashif. He worked his way through them quickly, and spotted the word he was looking for in the top left hand corner: Kuririkana.

What did it mean, he asked himself, stepping out of the headlight's glare. Remember. Remember what? The word had now been found at the site of a suicide and two murders. His head turned and he looked towards where he knew the moors lay. What was the betting it was somewhere up there, in the vicinity of where Rose Sutton's body had been found?

He pictured the murder scene, the bare peat earth, stunted gorse and scattering of giant rocks. The rocks. If it was anywhere, it would be scratched or written on them.

His mobile rang, causing him to jump. Nikki's name on the screen. 'Hi there. Still in court?'

'No, you're in luck. The defence had something new, so the judge adjourned it until tomorrow. I'm back at the office. These hairs you sent over aren't human.'

'No, I swiped them from the panther enclosure at Buxton

Zoo.'

'And you want me to compare their DNA with the samples on the system.'

'Yes please. But — and you're going to kill me for this — can you put the test on hold? Something else has cropped up.'

'What?'

'Any chance of you coming over here with that special light you use for picking out stains and other stuff?'

'The Portascope. Why?'

'I need to recheck where Rose Sutton was killed. I think we missed some evidence. A word, written somewhere near where her body was found.'

'You want me to go tramping round on those moors now? Jon, I can't see out of my window any more. You know why that is? It's dark.'

'Right. Which is the best time to use that light.'

'You're serious, aren't you?'

'You don't have to come with me. I just want to borrow it.'

'Good. Because aside from that animal, who knows how many madmen with rifles are prowling around up there.'

'So you can bring it over?'

She sighed. 'Give me the directions.'

When her BMW Mini pulled into the car park Jon was sitting in his vehicle, the ordnance survey map for the Dark Peak spread out across the steering wheel and dashboard. The interior light of his car was weak, causing him to squint as he studied the faint lines on the paper.

Holding a hand out of the open door, he waved a greeting to Nikki and sat back. She parked alongside him and climbed out, pausing at the boot to remove an aluminium carry case. 'I can't believe you dragged me out here,' she announced, placing the case on the tarmac.

At just over five feet tall, Jon didn't need to look up much to meet her eyes. She was still wearing her outfit for court, a tailored black trouser suit over a crisp white shirt, collar overlapping the jacket's lapels. Her dark brown hair had grown longer since he'd last seen her, and the style had evolved from tousled to wavy. She pushed some strands away from her face and smiled. 'What?'

Jon's eyes flickered momentarily to the side. Shit, I was staring. 'Thanks for coming out so fast.'

'Yeah well, you're lucky I didn't get lost. I'm not used to leaving the city centre.'

He wondered if she still had the little loft apartment in the Northern Quarter. He remembered her description. Exposed brick walls, steel girders and floor to ceiling windows with views out over the city. It sounded a nice pad. And with her determination never to have kids, why sacrifice it for some cramped semi in the suburbs?

She pointed to the map. 'Are you really going up there alone?'

He nodded. 'Everyone else is back at Longsight in a briefing.'

'Do you know the way?'

'Kind of. There's a track branching off the A6024 near the top of the moor. It leads towards Black Hill. Rose Sutton's body was found in a gully just a short walk from there.'

'What's wrong with getting an officer from Mossley Brow to show you the way? Surely they'll be familiar with the area?'

Jon thought about how Clegg was hiding something. 'I don't trust the officer in charge.'

Nikki arched an eyebrow. 'So why not Rose Sutton's husband? He must know the moor like the back of his hand.'

'Same reason.' Jon looked at the carry case. 'So, how does this work?'

Nikki crouched down and popped the clips. Inside was a layer of high density foam. Securely nestled in precision-cut cavities was a collection of items. She placed a finger on the largest, a black box with an empty bulb socket at the front. 'This is the Portscope, a handheld forensic light source.' She touched a smaller black box alongside. 'Twelve-volt battery, fully charged. Here's the bulb, it screws into the front. These are your filter covers. Different things show up under different wavelengths of light. UV light, which is less than four hundred nanometres is good for certain powders, inks and dyes, though not gunshot residue. Violet light illuminates blood stains, blue light shows up most other bodily fluids, blue green and green are best for fingerprints.'

'OK, where's the switch for the wavelengths?'

'It's not that simple. You need to tune in the lamp to the different colour bands, then fine tune it with the filters. You're scanning grass and earth right?'

'And rocks. Grit-stone boulders.'

'OK. There's a good chance the rocks will create background interference. They may glow or darken under certain wave- lengths, so you'll need to eliminate that… ' She paused. 'I'm going to have to come, aren't I?'

'No,' Jon said, folding the map over. 'Just talk me through how to do it.'

'Pissing hell!' She stood up. 'Why did I ever think I could explain how to use this in five minutes? It takes an entire training course to learn how to use it properly.' She walked back to the boot of her car, opened it and removed an industrial sized torch, Wellington boots and a big red quilted ski jacket. 'We go in your car though. I'm not driving Mojo down any farm track.'

'Mojo?' Jon replied with a grin.