Page 23 of Killing Mind

‘Holiday home in Spain is what I heard,’ she replied, taking the protective slippers from the techie at the entrance flap of the tent.

Keats stepped out and blocked her path. ‘A word, Inspector.’

Kim moved to the side, leaving Bryant to cover his shoes. Despite their phone conversation she’d expected this.

‘Inspector, I…’

‘Look, Keats. It happens. We made a mistake. We both—’

‘Inspector, I performed the post-mortem on Samantha Brown at five thirty this morning,’ he said, cutting her off.

‘Oh,’ she said.

Any lingering doubt of his own performance appeared to have disappeared during his few short hours of sleep. She was back in the presence of the Keats she knew and tolerated.

‘There was little to note that we didn’t already know. Toxicology samples have been sent off but as you know the results…’

‘Will take a couple of days,’ she said.

‘Just one little thing,’ he said, as she began to move away. ‘Stomach contents. Appeared to be little more than a combination of rice and beans.’

‘Vegan?’ she asked.

He shrugged. ‘Could be but I just thought I’d mention it.’

Kim made a mental note to check with her parents. It certainly wasn’t going to lead them to her killer, but an unlikely meal unless you were anti-animal products entirely.

She followed the pathologist into the tent. Bryant had waited and stepped in behind her.

‘Okay, Keats, what’ve we…’

She stopped speaking as he moved aside.

She took a second to appraise the sight before her.

The body of a young male dressed in jeans and tee shirt had been dragged up onto the side of the lake. One black and white trainer was on his foot and the other was missing.

Kim could see that his clothing was beginning to strain against the formation of adipocere or grave wax as it was commonly known. She already knew that mere moments after death body decomposition kicked in as bacterial enzymes started to break down the body’s soft tissue. She had learned it was a process of putrefaction, bloat, purge, advanced decay but she also knew that submersion in water slowed down the process.

Where the skin was visible she could see evidence of blistering and patches where the top layer of flesh had turned to a greyish-white colour. The smell of ammonia was unmistakeable.

The boy was lying on his side facing away from her. Weeds from the lake were tangled in his clothing and his hair. The bloated face was framed by light brown hair.

Kim guessed him to be late teens or early twenties.

‘He’s just a kid,’ Bryant breathed behind her.

Mitch held up a clear evidence bag.

‘Twenty years old and his name is Tyler Short.’

Kim reached for the bag and took a photo of the address on the driving licence, as a noise sounded overhead.

‘Bryant…’ she said, looking to her colleague who was closest to the door.

He stepped outside and straight back in again.

‘Yeah, it’s a drone.’