The Valley of Longing 26

‘Has your opinion of Mr Wild’s innocence changed because he admitted kissing Amy, and you genuinely believe it’s wrong for someone his age to kiss a sixteen -year-old girl, or because he admitted kissing someone when you wanted him to kiss you?’ The flush that coloured Melissa’s cheeks seemed to answer the question but Louise still waited for her granddaughter to speak, it was a few moments before she did. ‘I’m not sure,’ Melissa admitted as her cheeks reddened still further. ‘I do think it’s wrong for someone his age to kiss a teen, it’s not right at all - he must be twenty years older than her - but that’s just how I feel. Amy’s sixteen, that’s the age of consent, it isn’t wrong, legally, for him to kiss her. If you’re asking whether I was jealous that he kissed someone else - she nodded - yes I am; he’s attractive and charming, and I wanted him to kiss me. And now I’m even more confused abut everything.' ‘I don’t know if I thought he was innocent because there’s no evidence against him, or if it was because I think he’s attractive and I fancy him. And I don’t know if I now think he’s guilty because Amy is the same age as Lily, Lynne is just a few years older than the two, and if he was prepared to kiss Amy, what might he have done, or tried to do, with the other two, or because he kissed someone and I’m jealous it wasn’t me.’ Her head in her hands, she stared miserably at the table. Louise permitted herself a small smile for the dilemma Melissa had gotten herself into, though it didn’t stay on her lips for long. ‘It’s good that you can admit that you’re confused, and why,’ she said. ‘It’s also good that you’re willing to accept that just because you believe Mr Wild was wrong to kiss Amy, doesn’t mean he actually did something wrong; some people can’t do that. Take Venter for example, in all the time I’ve known him, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him to admit to being wrong about anything. That’s a bad trait in anyone, but especially in a police officer. ‘I remember your grandfather used to say ‘it’s better to say you’re wrong, even if you’re right, than it is to say you’re right, even when you’re wrong.’ Melissa had to smile at that; she hadn’t known her grandfather all that well, he had died when she was young, but she did remember him coming out with sayings like that. ‘I’m not an expert on this kind of thing, and I don’t pretend to be,’ Louise said. ‘But it seems to me that if you really want to figure out if Mr Wild is the killer, or if it could be young Kerwin, you need to acknowledge that you’re attracted to Mr Wild, and then forget all about that attraction and concentrate on the facts you have.’ Melissa nodded at the wisdom of those words, though she doubted it was going to be as easy as her grandmother made it sound. ‘What do I do about the attempts on Mr Wild’s life, though? If I report what I suspect, and I’m wrong. I could lose my job, or at least end up with a black mark in my file, which will mean I can’t go for sergeant next year, like I want to, but if I don’t report it, and I’m right, then I could be letting a would - be - murderer go free, and letting the sergeant get away with abuse of power, or whatever he could be charged with.’ ‘On that subject, I don’t really know what to tell you, expect that you should do what you think is right.’ Melissa arrived at the station well ahead of the start of her shift, and immediately put the kettle on. She made a cup of tea for inspector Stevens, who was dealing with paperwork in his office, a coffee for Heath, who was at the counter, and a coffee for herself, which she carried into the back office. Once she was seated with her coffee, she found a pad and pen and got to work on what her grandmother had advised her to do. Putting together a chronological account of everything that had happened since Lynne Hendricks went missing was not as easy as Melissa had thought it would be. The task was made more difficult by the need to make sure that none of what she put down was Coloured by her personal opinions or feelings. She had to stop before she could finish as Sergeant Mitchell arrived at the station; she didn’t want him to see what she was doing, in case he disapproved of it, which he almost certainly would. ‘What are you doing this afternoon?’ Mitchell asked when he found Melissa; he didn’t notice the several sheets of paper she whipped out of sight upon seeing him in the doorway. ‘Whatever you need me to,’ Melissa said, She had been expecting to be on the counter for her shift, with a couple of runs around the village during the afternoon and evening to keep an eye out for potential trouble, but the question made her think Mitchell had something in mind for her. Mitchell nodded. ‘Good, because I’ve had a message to say that the post - mortems have been completed, so we need to go into town and speak to the pathologist. We also need to speak to Mr Wild,’ he said, though he seemed far from pleased by the thought, ‘to find out what, if anything, he knows about the attempt on his life.’ Going to see the pathologist about the results of a post - mortem was one of the last things she would have chosen to do, had she an option, but it beat spending an afternoon at the counter. As horrible and horrific as the events of the last few days had been, she couldn’t help thinking that they had shown her how boring her work was usually; it wasn’t that she wanted to have to deal with murders and other serious crimes on a daily, or even a regular, basis, it was just that she didn’t want to go back to a life where she had little to do beyond breaking up the occasional drunken argument in the Bar. Melissa liked her third visit to the morgue no better than she had the previous two - she didn’t think she would have liked it any better if all three visits hadn’t occurred on consecutive days - but that was no surprise given that two of the visits had been to have bodies identified, and this one was to get the results of a post - mortem, something she had never thought to have to do. The two police officers introduced themselves to the young man at he counter, and were directed to the office of the pathologist. ‘Come in.’ ‘Hello, sergeant Mitchell, from Doring Draad,’ he said as he entered the office. ‘You called to say the reports on the post - mortems of the two murder victims we discovered over the weekend are ready.’ The pathologist looked blankly at the sergeant for a moment or two and he nodded. ‘AHHH, yes, I remember now; it wasn’t me that called, though, it was my assistant; she must have garbled the message because I’ve only completed one of the post - mortems - I’m good, but two posts in a morning is more than I can manage. I won’t be doing the second ‘til this afternoon. Do you want the report on this morning’s PM, or would you rather wait until I’ve done this afternoon’s?’ Mitchell barely had to think about the question. He nodded, and reached a hand out to accept the file that was passed across the desk. Leaning back in the chair he had been directed to, he flipped open the file and began to read with and expression that could only be called perplexed. He Didn’t want to say as much, but he could barely understand a word of what the report had to say - for all the sense he could make of it, it might as well have been written in a foreign language. Harry Dryer didn’t laugh when he saw that the sergeant across from him was having trouble, he was used to detectives with far greater experience not understanding post - mortem reports, so it didn’t surprise him that a village sergeant was struggling. ‘Would you like me to explain it to you?’ he asked in as non - offensive a tone as he could. As much as he wanted to be insulted by the suggestion that he didn’t understand the report in his hand, Mitchell knew it was true, he also knew that his inability to understand it was obvious. Reluctantly, he swallowed his pride and nodded. ‘Thanks, I’ve never had to try and understand one of these before, and, I’ve got to be honest, it like trying to read Latin or something.’ Harry permitted himself a smile at that. ‘You’ve not the first person to say that,’ he remarked. ‘This is the report on Lynne Hendricks, who I understand was the first of the two bodies to be found. I won’t trouble you with her gross physical characteristics, I’m sure you know them well enough, I’ll just skip to the bits you need to know.’ Mitchell was glad about that, he was sure there was a lot of stuff in the report that was only of interest to a pathologist, or coroner, or someone with a morbid interest in knowing every last detail of someone’s life and death. He did not fit into any of those categories, he was simply after evidence that would prove that Jack was the murderer he knew him to be. ‘First, and most importantly, the cause of death - she was strangled, with sufficient force to leave more bruising than would be considered usual. There are photos of each of the injuries I catalogued in the back of the report, but I’ll spare you them just now. The extent of the bruising to Miss Lynne’s throat, coupled with the other injuries, indicate that the killer is naturally strong, but was also angry at the time of the attack - strength alone would not account for the severity of the injuries I catalogued. ‘The chances are good that she would have died even if she wasn’t strangled. The injuries she suffered; punctured lung, lacerated kidney and liver, bruising to the heart, fractured jaw, multiple broken and fractured ribs, internal bleeding, all would have made it unlikely that she would have survived to reach the hospital, even if she had been found straight away, which I understand was not the case. And None of that takes into account the cuts and bruises she suffered.’ A feeling of horror crept over Mitchell as he listened to the range of injuries Lynne had suffered before being strangled. He had seen the cuts and bruises, and the other outward marks of injury, especially the words cruelly carved into her stomach, when he examined her naked body at the scene; none of that had prepared him to hear the level of internal injury she had suffered, though. Even with his certainty that he knew who was responsible for the murder, he couldn’t imagine the type of person it took to inflict such damage on another human being, it didn’t seem possible that anyone could. Even harder to believe was that someone who was sick enough to attack a person in the way that Lynne and Lily had been, could walk around without anyone being aware of what they were capable of. It took a short while for Mitchell to recover enough to speak; fortunately, the pathologist understood the reason for his silence, and waited patiently for him to recover from his shock and organise his thoughts. ‘What about what was - what was cut into her stomach?’ Mitchell asked. ‘Can you tell me anything about that - that might help me prove who killed her?’ ‘Not much,’ Harry admitted. ‘The words were made with a series of precise cuts using a narrow - bladed knife.’ ‘Precise cuts? You mean they were made by someone professional, like a surgeon or something?’ Melissa felt compelled to ask. Harry shook his head, ‘No, sorry, that’s not what I meant. When I say precise cuts, I mean there was no hesitation in any of them, each one was made with one exact stroke; that suggests that whoever made them knew exactly what they were going to do, and wasn’t in the least bit bothered by what they were doing.’ ‘Can you tell me the specific type of knife that was used?’ Mitchell asked. He had seen a number of knives when he searched Jack’s house, but hadn’t thought to take any of them for forensic examination. ‘A switchblade, or something like, I’ll need some more analysis to be more certain, though I can tell you it wasn’t a kitchen knife of any kind.’ That was a type of knife he hadn’t seen during his search, and Mitchell decided he would have to make a second, more thorough search. He had other things to concern himself with just then, however, and he focused on that. ‘She was naked when she was found, does that mean…’ He had to pause for a moment before he could finish his question. ‘Does that mean she was raped?’ Harry bobbed his head in a slow, regretful answer. ‘Yes, I’m afraid she was. Do you need the details?’ he asked with a quick glance at the young constable, a glance that made It all too clear what he thought the answer should be. Mitchell couldn’t help copying the pathologist and glancing at Melissa before answering the question with a brief shake of his head. ‘If I need them, I’m sure I can muddle through the file and figure out what it says.’ ‘If you get stuck, you can give me a call,’ Harry said. ‘Anyway, to get back to it; the rape was as brutal as the rest of the attack, that’s all I’ll say on that, but on a positive note - and I appreciate there aren’t really any positives that can be taken from this situation - I did find plenty of DNA on the body. I’ve got semen, pubic hair, skin from under the fingernails, and saliva; if you’ve got a suspect, forensics will be able to match his DNA against what I’ve found. They’ve already got the samples I collected, so if you’re lucky and your killer’s in the DNA database, they’ll have a name for you in the next couple of days.’ That was a possibility that pleased Mitchell. He wasn’t sure whether JACK WILD’S DNA was in the National Police Database, but he didn’t think that was likely to matter; he had no idea of the exact procedure for doing so, it was something he would have to check when he got back to the station, but he was confident that he could get a sample of Wild’s DNA, and once he had that it would only be a matter of time before what he believed was proved. ‘Is there anything else you can tell us?’ Melissa would have been amused by her superior’s use of the plural, given that she had so far been all but ignored, but she was too sickened by the description of what had been done to Lynne. She was thankful Mitchell had declined to see the photographs; after how she had reacted upon first catching sight of the teen on Saturday, and how she was feeling just then, she thought it likely that seeing the photographs would make her throw up, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Harry nodded, ‘As I said, it’s going to take a couple of days to get anything back from the DNA samples I sent to the lab, but I can tell you the killer is O positive, it’s fairly a common blood - type, the most common amongst Caucasians in fact, but it might help you to narrow down any suspects you have…...’