Page 14

“Just a bit,” Maya replied, dropping behind Duncan’s shoulder. She scanned the crowd, looking weirdly excited. “A few people have already started to take their shirts off. If they shift it’s gonna be a problem.”

They huddled behind the van, trying to avoid the various items being lobbed past the cordon. Lily and Blake hurried over from their position by a marked car, both holding clipboards above their heads to prevent themselves being hit by projectiles.

“They’re settled Romas,” Blake huffed, pulling Lily next to him.

He held up an arm to shield the beta from an incoming takeaway cup.

“They’re one of Albania’s largest wolf packs, settled in the UK for the last decade.

They want to claim the deceased, but say the police are dishonouring tradition by keeping him in situ. ”

Pember dropped his gaze to the tarmac. Out of respect? Shame? He couldn’t be sure. He’d never seen a proper large- scale pack before, which was more of a reflection on the UK than anything else.

Wallace nodded. “Ah. Hence the growing crowd.” He turned to Pember. “Even more reason to get this done quickly and efficiently, alright?”

Pember nodded, his gaze trailing up to Blake’s face. There were dark circles under his eyes again, and his expression was pulled back to its icy facade.

“Full forensics and photographs?” Wallace said, giving Blake a pointed look.

Blake shook his head. “A pathologist is on the way, so no swabs yet. Minimal disturbance, photographs only. Start at the shopfront. The entrance to the flat is around the side. Response officers forced entry, but I want you to fully document all access and egress points. Minimal disturbance, Wallace, understand?”

Wallace nodded. “It’ll just be me and the lad going in initially. So long as you’re alright with that, Pem?”

Pember nodded, slipping off his coat. Maya hopped from foot to foot as she fidgeted with her long, dark ponytail. “I can come with you, Wallace. If Pember wants to sit this one out?”

Pember frowned, but didn’t bite back.

Wallace shook his head. “Baptism by fire. That’s what I say.”

Maya huffed. “Yeah, but… there’s learning on the job and then there’s a fucking murder scene, Wal. Go easy on him, yeah?”

Wallace’s gaze shifted to Pember. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

Pember nodded. “Of course, but if Maya?—”

“Excellent,” Wallace said, cutting him off. “Duncan, help Pember get dressed and I’ll meet you over by the entrance.”

Duncan nodded, handing him a white scene examiner suit and a pair of blue shoe covers. Zipping up the suit, Duncan helped him pull on several sets of latex gloves. Pember’s gaze slid to Maya, but she didn’t meet his eyes.

“Ready?” Wallace said, squeezing his shoulder.

Pember nodded and followed him towards the house.

It all became white noise as the din from the crowd grew even louder.

It seemed their appearance in the white suits was escalating the unrest and sending the group into a frenzy.

He was vaguely aware of Johnny and Tay moving within the crowd, trying to stop the betas from shifting.

But all Pember could do was shut out the noise as he gripped the camera and focused on Wallace’s back.

The door to The Cod Father was already open, the smell of grease and vinegar slamming into his nostrils.

The shiny metal bar was immaculately clean, with sauces and condiments all lined up in a neat row.

Chip papers and vinegar bottles were ready and waiting to be used, and for all intents and purposes nothing was amiss.

That was, except for the thick rivulets of blood oozing through the gaps in the tiled ceiling.

It had already congealed into thick, brownish globs that peppered the tiled floor.

Despite only being a few hours old, the metallic stench permeated everything.

His inner wolf actually squirmed, and he pressed a hand to his belly to calm the sensation.

Wallace indicated for him to start taking photographs, which he did without question. As they worked their way through the shop and around the side, they quickly found the door that led up to the second-floor flat. It was, as expected, smashed to smithereens.

“What do you see, lad?”

Pember frowned as he adjusted his face mask. His gaze skimmed over the splintered bits of wood and glass, eventually falling on the door handle. “The locking mechanism is still in place,” he said, bending down to photograph the protruding bar.

“Which means?”

“That the door was locked at the time of, or after the murder?”

Wallace’s cheeks rose behind his mask. “Indeed. It’s not our place to investigate, but what can we infer from that?”

Pember coughed, the smell of blood and death already wafting down the stairs and into his nostrils. “That the person responsible had a key?”

Wallace nodded, then tapped something on the wall. “Or?”

Pember stepped forward, careful to avoid the debris. It was a key safe. “Or they knew how to access the spare key.”

Wallace nodded again. “Which might lead us to assume?—”

“This is a domestic homicide.”

Wallace shrugged. “Could be. Could well be. Remember, walk where I walk. I’ll direct you.”

As they made their way up the stairs, the smell of death clung more thickly to the air. Although not yet putrid, the cloying, musky stench of body odour and expelled bowels was unmistakable. Pember let out a long breath as he carried on taking photographs.

“In here,” Wallace said, pausing at the top of the stairs. “The body’s over there. We’ll photograph the gentleman first, then move on to the rest of the property. So far, so good?”

Pember gave a quick nod. “So far, so good.”

Stepping into the living room, what greeted them was a truly horrific sight. Lying in the centre of the grey shag-pile rug was a man—an alpha—his fangs protruding from his slack, bloodied lips. He was on his side, still in the recovery position, his shirtless chest flayed half-open.

“Oh my God,” Pember whispered, stepping back.

He took a few shaky breaths, trying to keep a level head.

Every fibre of his inner wolf was telling him to run away.

That what was displayed in that room wasn’t right.

Wasn’t natural. Seeing a cadaver on a surgical table was one thing.

Witnessing a murder victim with their torso ripped apart was altogether abhorrent.

A clattering sound brought him back to his senses, and he saw Wallace laying out a series of short pedestals.

“Walk on these. To minimise disturbance.”

Pember nodded, took another breath and stepped back into the room.

Without another word, he hopped up onto the nearest block and photographed the body from above.

It was odd, seeing death through a lens, especially when he zoomed in on the deep wounds littering his chest and forearms. It didn’t look real.

Like some kind of cheap horror show put on in a haunted house.

But the stench made it real, and he was beginning to regret not wearing a respirator.

There were so many cuts and so much dried blood, it was difficult to make out the man’s skin tone, complexion or whether he had any distinguishing features.

The splatter marks across his face and over the floor were beginning to turn dark around the edges, confirming that the blood had been out of the body for several hours.

“See up there?” Wallace said, pointing towards the ceiling.

Pember craned his head. There were several long flicks of blood covering the white Artex.

“It’s called cast-off. Where the blood was flung from a weapon during the attack. The attacker really went hell for leather.”

“Feels personal,” Pember muttered, taking more photographs.

Wallace nodded. “Indeed.”

“Do we know anything about him? Other than being an alpha and a settled Roma?”

Wallace shook his head. “That’s for the detectives to find out. But I’d say it must have taken someone of greater strength and stature to overpower him. He’s, what? Six two, six three?”

Pember nodded, but as his eyes drifted from the body to the floor, he noticed tiny specks of blood peppering the mat in the hallway.

“Wallace, look,” he said, letting the camera hang around his shoulder. “There’s more blood going into the bedroom.”

Wallace squinted and adjusted his mask. “Good spot.”

Following the trail into the bedroom, they found an unmade bed and clothes strewn across the floor. A strong smell of beer and aftershave permeated, even through the death stench in the living room.

Pember photographed everything before moving over to the bed. “Look,” he said, pointing to several tiny dots of blood staining the white undersheet.

Wallace moved closer, tugging up his mask. “Could be something. Perhaps he was in bed when the attack started. Take as many photos as you can and move on.”

Which Pember did, only stopping when Wallace drew his attention. “Here, Pem. What do you think?”

Pember breathed into his mask and shuffled over. They stared down at a set of drawers, a thick layer of dust coating the surface apart from a lunchbox-sized rectangle in the corner.

“Something’s been moved?” Pember said, taking a photograph.

“I’d say so. Let’s finish up and speak to Blake.”

Pember felt sick as the fresh air hit his nose. They’d been inside for longer than he’d realised, and the sun was already high in the sky. The angry crowd had mostly dispersed, but Johnny and Taylor were patrolling the edge of the cordon in their black wolf forms.

Pember took several breaths, ripped off his mask and pulled down the hood of his suit.

He blinked rapidly, bracing a hand against the low wall next to the van.

That’d been… intense. Really, really intense.

In fact, it wasn’t until they’d left the property that he realised just how much he was holding it together.

A gentle pressure around his shoulder made him jump.

“Everything alright?” Blake said, staring down at him.