Page 40 of Gone in the Night

The woman calmly walked up to him, raised her hand and slapped him hard across the cheek. The screaming stopped andthe sound of her hitting his flesh replaced it. He cupped a hand to his face and stared at her.

‘You hit me?’

‘You were screaming like a banshee.’

The guy she was with was staring into the tent. He didn’t need to stand on the ladders as he was tall enough to peer in, and Sammy heard him say, ‘Oh my God.’

He took out his phone and must have dialled 999, because Sammy heard him asking for the police and an ambulance. The woman who had turned her attention to what was inside the tent stood on the ladder, and he grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

‘Don’t, it’s a crime scene.’

She glared at him, but he took no notice. He moved closer to the tent then and quickly turning on his phone, he began to snap photos of the 4x4, tent and the body inside.

Sammy who had regained his composure yelled, ‘Hey, you better not do that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Give her some respect, man, what you going to do, post them all over Facebook for some sympathy likes?’

The guy shook his head. ‘No, I’m a reporter, I’m doing my job.’

Sammy glared at him. He knew he didn’t like him, what a jerk. Realising he should be taking charge, he stood up straight and in front of the guy.

‘Stop it now. Get away from here, the police are on their way, and you’ll get arrested for messing around with a crime scene.’

His partner grabbed his arm. ‘Come on, Fin, don’t be stupid.’

They walked a short distance away from the car.

‘We’re going back to our tent,’ she called over her shoulder to him, and he was glad.

He rubbed his cheek, which was still smarting, and thought he better phone his boss and tell him the reason the woman inthe roof tent had overstayed. He figured she had a pretty good excuse, although his boss was an arsehole and would probably still try and claim the money back from her family somehow.

Surely that would shock him enough to make him feel bad for the woman who’d been murdered? Or at least he hoped it would.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Ben, who was always the utmost professional when it came to attending post-mortems, had his phone switched off, and Morgan’s was on silent. Wendy’s began to ring just as Declan was finishing up Sharon Montgomery’s internal examination.

‘Sorry, so sorry. It’s all been a bit hectic.’

Declan nodded. ‘You’re forgiven.’

The ringing stopped then began immediately.

‘You want me to get that?’ Ben asked.

Morgan had taken out her phone. She had that all-too-familiar feeling inside. Her stomach was already in knots as her internal sensors kicked in, a combination of dread and turmoil.

‘I have three missed calls off Marc.’

Ben sighed. He had retrieved Wendy’s phone and put it onto loudspeaker. ‘Hello.’

‘Who’s this?’

Everyone knew Marc’s voice with his soft Mancunian undertones.

‘It’s me. Ben. We’re just finishing up Sharon Montgomery’s PM. Wendy’s all gloved up, what’s up?’