Danielle Ramsay - Vanishing Point

Brady looked closely at the scarring from the botched abortion. It was bad. Even to his untrained eye.

‘And you see this trauma here?’ Wolfe pointed out.

‘These internal and external wounds were carried out when she was alive and are indicative of her being raped. Gang-raped and violently might I add to cause that kind of damage.’

Brady looked across and caught Conrad’s eye. He looked equally as uncomfortable with the finding.

‘When you get the autopsy report you’ll see that I’ve established numerous finger marks on her lower and upper legs and her hips and back from where she has been forcibly held down. I’ve checked them and there is a consistency which shows that three different people held her down.’

‘What about any traces of DNA evidence? Sperm? Pubic hair?’ Brady asked.

‘Bleach has been inserted into her vagina and rectum, no doubt to cover the DNA evidence. But it appears that they wore protection as I’ve found nothing. And then we have to add in that she’s been in the sea for approximately two hours.’

Brady sighed. He had been hoping that Wolfe would have been able to find some trace of forensic evidence left behind.

‘What about the victim’s age?’

‘Approximately 16 to 18 years of age; body length 65 inches and weight 90 pounds which suggests she’s malnourished.’

Wolfe paused.

Brady followed his gaze to the sagging flaps of skin that had once been her breasts.

‘As you can see the victim had breast implants which I have removed. The serial number on the implants might be of some use to you,’ Wolfe said. ‘Harold will give you a copy of it.’

‘At least that’s something,’ Brady conceded as he caught Conrad’s eye.

Brady didn’t know whether Conrad’s silence was because he was fighting the urge to puke, or whether he was keeping quiet to avoid Wolfe’s acerbic tongue.

But he looked as hopeful as Brady felt at the possibility of being able to identify the victim from the serial number.

‘Cause of death?’ asked Brady.

‘Well … this is the interesting part. You would think asphyxiation because of the damage to her neck externally and internally,’ Wolfe explained as he pointed to the mottled bruising around what was left of her neck. ‘But that wasn’t the cause of death. She was strangled but whoever did this stopped before she actually asphyxiated. The hyoid bone, the thyroid and the cricoid cartilages are fractured, and there is pulmonary edema, with froth in the trachea and bronchi. The lungs are bulky, crepitant and over-distended and there is right ventricular dilatation. But …’ Wolfe paused, ‘the damage isn’t significant enough for her to have suffocated.’

Brady nodded.

‘Cause of death was definitely cardio-respiratory arrest due to shock,’ added Wolfe.

‘Was she alive when they started to decapitate her?’ asked Brady, hoping that for her sake that wasn’t the case.

He saw Conrad shift uncomfortably at the question.

Wolfe shook his head.

‘No. There’s no defensive knife wounds which is what you’d expect if she had been conscious. And if she had been alive when they decapitated her, the blood loss would have been extreme. The carotid arteries on either side of the neck are the major arteries that pump blood to the head and then there are the jugular veins which return the blood back to the heart. If she was alive when these were cut, she would have died within seventeen seconds from blood loss. And believe me that would be one gruesome crime scene. But as you can see from the pool of blood that’s still left in the body’s cavity this wasn’t the case. She was definitely deceased before she was decapitated. Whether she was shot in the head or received a blow to the head which caused cardio-respiratory arrest, I can’t say.’

Brady nodded, relieved.

‘The knife that was used?’ Brady asked.

‘Ten-inch stainless steel hunting-survival knife with a five-and-a-half-inch large serrated spine capable of easily cutting through bone. I’d say the handle was also steel with a knurled handgrip as there’s no traces of fabric or any other material on the neck wound.’

Brady nodded as he wondered what kind of person carried such a knife.

‘Finally,’ Wolfe began. ‘The burn mark of the scorpion and the letters “MD” are intriguing. Reminiscent of cattle branding. And from the condition of the wound, I’d say it’s only two days old.’

‘How long do you think she’s been dead?’ Brady questioned, not wanting to think about the implications of a branded victim.

‘I’d say she’d been dead for about three hours before she was found on the beach,’ Wolfe answered. ‘Time of death was approximately 1am, or thereabouts.’

‘She looks in a bad way for just three hours,’ Brady suggested as he looked at the swollen and discoloured body in front of him.

He caught Conrad’s puzzled expression, which told him he was equally surprised.

Wolfe gave Brady a withering look.

Brady remembered that there was one thing with Wolfe that you couldn’t do and that was question his skill.

‘I’m certain. From the body’s rate of cooling and the degree of rigor mortis and the partially undigested food in her stomach, she had been dead for three hours before she was discovered.’

‘The tide was coming in at 1am. So, whoever dumped her in the water must have known that she would be washed up onto the beach.’ Brady shook his head as he considered the implications.

‘Which means that they wanted her to be found, laddie,’ Wolfe noted.

Brady looked at the body, wondering why she had been gang-raped then murdered. And crucially why her murderers wanted the body found.

‘The head …’ began Brady. ‘Makes identification damned difficult without it or her fingers. Why would someone go to those lengths to make sure she can’t be identified and then want her body found?’

‘ Mortui vivos docent ,’ Wolfe simply replied.

He nodded at Brady’s puzzled expression.

‘Latin for,’ he paused for effect, ‘the dead teach the living.’

Chapter Fourteen

Brady checked his watch. It was nearly 12pm. He was running late.

He had someone to see connected to Simone’s attack. Whether he would glean anything was another matter, but he felt compelled to follow it through. But first, he needed to get a hold of Amelia back at the station. He needed her to do him a favour. Whether she would was questionable, but he had no option but to ask.

‘As fast as you can, Conrad,’ instructed Brady.

He was on edge at the thought of what lay ahead of him. And the prospect of walking back into the station wearing the brunt of Frank Henderson’s fists wasn’t helping.

Conrad simply nodded as he reversed his new dark silver sports Saab Phoenix out of the hospital parking space, all too aware that Brady was holding a take-out black coffee from the hospital cafeteria. He didn’t want coffee spilt all over the new interior, or his highly-strung boss.

Brady took a slug of lukewarm, weak black coffee. He forced it down, despite its bitter, burnt taste.

‘Would you believe this is worse than the station cafeteria’s coffee?’

‘I did warn you, sir. Which was the reason I didn’t want one,’ replied Conrad as he slowly pulled his car out of the hospital grounds.

The muscles in Conrad’s jaw were knotted as he concentrated on the busy traffic ahead. That and the call he had received while he had waited in the car when Brady had gone off to get some coffee.

‘Christ, Conrad …’ muttered Brady as he shook his head.

‘Sir?’

‘What do we have? An unidentified, decapitated victim whose head is still missing, aged between sixteen and eighteen, savagely gang-raped, then murdered and dumped in the sea with the intention of her body washing up on the shores of Whitley Bay beach,’ Brady said, sighing. ‘And then there’s the markings burnt onto her body which suggest …’ he faltered.