Michael Fowler - Cold Death

The MIT teams had not eased up since Barry had discovered the CCTV footage; the investigation was now at the manhunt stage. The blown up footage of the two Asian men had been given to the Intelligence Unit and they had circulated it throughout the South Yorkshire Districts as well as neighbouring police forces. On the back burner was a visit to the Crimewatch studios, but they wanted to exhaust their own enquiries first. The pictures were so good that everyone was confident it wouldn’t be long before they were caught.

Simultaneous checks were being carried out at scrap dealers and car dismantlers for the white Renault van. It hadn’t been found dumped and burnt out after all this time, and therefore experience from other murder enquiries told them that if it wasn’t still secreted away somewhere, these were the usual disposal places for such evidence.

Also, now that they had the fixed time and date parameters of the attack and kidnapping of Samia the technicians at force headquarters had been able to make a quick examination of the SIM card memory and mapping hardware inside Mohammed Hassan’s seized mobile. There the ‘wizards’ had got a crucial breakthrough. From the downloaded data they had discovered activity on his phone within minutes of his daughter’s abduction and traced a name and phone number. On Mohammed’s database they had the name Ari registered in his contact details. They had also confirmed that the same number had been dialled persistently during a number of days following Samia’s kidnapping, with the last call recorded at ten-thirty-three pm on Friday the first of August. Since then there had been no activity to this number and the technicians were reporting that the line was now dead; the phone switched off — but more than likely dumped, especially since the raid at the Hassans.

Hunter recalled what Kerri Ann Bairstow had told them about seeing a white van driving away from the country park either a Friday or Saturday. He had no doubt in his mind that this was the date when they had dumped Samia’s body into the lake, and that meant she had been held captive for almost five days.

He felt the hairs at the back of his neck prickle; the post mortem report had shown that she had clearly been raped and butchered. He couldn’t imagine psychologically what she must have gone through during all that time. Her suffering must have been off the Richter scale he thought to himself.

Hunter continued picking over the reports. He knew from enquiries that the mobile number which Mohammed had contacted was a ‘pay and go’ phone bought in Sheffield with cash, and the details of the purchaser entered on the system were false. Nevertheless from discussions during briefings the murder squad were confident Ari was the real name Mohammed had entered into his contacts register.

Together with the photographs from the CCTV footage Hunter knew this was as good as they were going to get.

“Hunter didn’t you hear what I said?”

Grace calling out his name broke his concentration. He looked up from his paperwork and caught her glaring at him. She was holding the handset of the phone away from face pointing at the receiver.

“Sorry Grace I was elsewhere.”

“Yeah I could see,” she replied. “I just said they’ve found the white van.” There was a high pitched note of elation in her voice. “It’s Communications on the phone. Uniform have found it at a car dismantler’s in Rotherham. A low loader is on its way to pick it up and SOCO are heading out there.”

Hunter snapped the top back onto his pen. “Then why on earth are you dilly-dallying about Grace. Get your butt in gear girl — we haven’t got all day.” he cried jubilantly.

* * * * *

Later that afternoon Hunter drove the unmarked CID car into the force’s forensic examination facility and swung it into an empty parking slot. Excitedly he jumped out, slamming the car door behind, not bothering to lock it and at a quick pace made for the drying room. Grace jumped out of the passenger seat and half-skipping followed in his wake.

Duncan Wroe, dressed in a blue all-in-one, was edging backwards out of the rear of the white Renault.

Giving it a quick once over Hunter thought it looked in remarkably good condition to say it had been languishing in a car dismantler’s for several weeks, though it was missing its rear number plate.

Hunter stopped at the door and shouted to Duncan.

He turned and acknowledged them with a wave, a small fluorescent light in one hand and a bottle of Luminol blood reagent spray in the other. He sauntered towards them.

“Hi Hunter, Grace. Wondered how long it would be before you got here.” He set the spray down on a table.

“We wanted to give you enough time to work your magic on it Duncan,” Hunter replied.

Duncan smiled and mussed his fingers through his tousled lanks of fair hair. “Too early for miracles just yet I’m afraid, though I have made a start on it.” He picked the Luminol spray back up. “Come on, slip on some overshoes and I’ll show you what I’ve got so far.”

He peeled away leaving Hunter and Grace to fit on the blue latex shoe coverings, kept in a dispenser by the entrance door. Duncan still continued talking as he parted from them and Hunter found himself hobbling after him, trying to fit on one shoe protector whilst at the same time hanging onto what the SOCO manager was saying.

“I’ve only done a preliminary examination you understand. The van’s been out in the open for months and will need at least a couple of days in the drying room before we can bottom it. However I have made a start.” Duncan stopped by the open rear doors, resting against one as Hunter and Grace caught up.

“Is it the right van?” questioned Hunter, finally snapping both the forensic overshoes in place and pointing at the absence of the rear number plate.

“Absolutely. The engine and chassis number are a match. This is definitely the van belonging to Mr Hassan.”

“And what have you got so far Duncan?” asked Grace.

“Well I have found traces of blood — just small amounts. I’ve given it the once over with the Luminol and it shows up under the fluorescent. Whose it is at the moment I won’t be able to say but my guess is Samia’s. Her throat was cut as I recall and I would think despite the fact she was bundled up in the carpet some will have seeped out. I’ll swab it and send it to the lab.”

“Anything else?”

“The impossible I can do, miracles take a little longer Hunter. Once it’s thoroughly dried out I’ll be checking it out for fibres and DNA. I’ve got the samples from the carpet she was wrapped up in and so I’ll be able to examine them under the lighting equipment and get the frequency and wavelength of the fibres to see if there is a match — to confirm if this was the vehicle she was carried away in before she was dumped in the lake.”

Hunter returned a thank you smile. “All very technical for me Duncan but I have faith in you.”

“In layman’s terms it’s a bit like the fluorescent lights in a nightclub picking out white clothing.”

Hunter and Grace nodded understandingly.

“I’ll also be checking for soil samples in the wheel arches and on the wheels and see if I can marry them to the samples I’ve taken from the car park at the country park. Lastly we’ll swab the cabin’s interior and see if there is a DNA composite for the driver and passenger. With a bit of luck in a day or two I should have all the answers.”

* * * * *

Hunter found Barry Newstead bending over his desk as he pushed through the office doors. Grace was only a few strides behind.

“Caught you!” Hunter said. “Snooping through the bosses things whilst he’s away?”

“It would take a real detective to ever catch me doing that,” Barry returned craning his neck back over his shoulder. “I thought you’d disappeared for the day I’m just leaving you a note before I knock off.” He finished scribing on an A5 pad, then tore off the top sheet and spun around to hand it to Hunter. “A couple of things I wanted to leave for you before tomorrow morning’s briefing.”