Page 73 of Twisted Lies

‘I’m sorry but I have no idea. I’ve just been told to make contact and discuss protocols for information sharing and—’

‘Yeah, yeah, that’s what I thought you were gonna say,’ he offered stiffly.

Stacey remembered what the boss had said about sensitivity.

‘You know, I remember once when I was about ten years old, my mom arranged for a girl down the street to come over for a play date. I wasn’t all that fussed cos I didn’t really know the girl. Anyway, she came and brought nothing with her. She played with all my stuff, but I didn’t get to play with hers. Gotta be honest, I felt a bit shafted by the whole thing.’

Silence met her ears before DI Lynes burst out laughing.

‘Stacey Wood, I like you, and I sure like those ballet slippers you’re wearing to tread gently. The privacy and disclosure documents have been signed by folks higher up our food chain, and my tech guy has developed a link to this one case only. It’s a temporary link and if accessed by anyone other than you, it will go nowhere and the link will be destroyed. And it should be landing in your inbox about now.’

As promised it appeared.

‘You’ll be able to witness our investigation in real time, but if there’s anything urgent I’ll give you a call.’

Stacey was blown away by his co-operation.

‘I’m sending a separate link later to the post-mortem. Again, it will only be accessed by one login.’

‘Got it,’ Stacey said, glancing at Penn.

‘Now, is there anything else I can do to make your day easier, Stacey?’

She could hear the humour behind his words.

‘No, sir, I think—’

‘Hang on,’ he said, covering his mouthpiece with his hand. She heard no detail from the muffled voices in the background.

‘Well, Stacey, it would appear that you were wrong and there is more I can do for you at the beginning of this fine day. I have a positive identification on our victim. Does the name Dennis Burke mean anything to you?’

Stacey said the name aloud, staring in Leanne’s direction.

The woman grabbed her phone and headed for the door.

Sixty

Wren’s Nest had the honour of being declared the UK’s first national nature reserve for geology in 1956. It wasn’t the area’s only claim to fame. Kim remembered from school that the caves were mined for hundreds of years for valuable limestone, and the world’s first industrial steam engine was built by the Victorians next to Wren’s Nest to pump water from mines and tunnels.

Approaching from the east side as instructed, they travelled a single-track road that wound around a few bends and then opened up into a rough car park that clearly marked the beginning of a walking trail.

‘What’s with the metal fencing?’ Kim asked as Bryant parked behind Keats’s van.

‘About one square mile of the site has been closed off for a couple of months, following some kind of rock slide during a school trip. No one hurt but they’ve closed it off for safety.’

‘Clearly someone didn’t get the memo,’ Kim said, showing her ID to the guarding officer.

‘About a hundred metres dead ahead,’ he offered helpfully.

She and Bryant trudged the path in silence. She guessed both of them were wondering what the hell they were going to find. So far, they’d had a naked man roasted to death, a naked man tortured on a stretching mechanism and, judging by the bare leg she could see to the left of Keats, this victim wasn’t wearing much either.

‘What we got, Keats?’ she asked, taking a pair of blue slippers from Bryant.

He stepped aside to reveal a sight that at first glance appeared quite comical.

The man lay staked to the ground at both ankles and wrists. A ceramic mixing bowl lay atop his stomach. A red circle of burned skin wound around the base of the bowl. A trail of blood had oozed from beneath the bowl and made a route over his hips to pool on the ground.

‘I’ll give you a minute to take it all in, because when I lift this bowl, you won’t be able to look anywhere else.’