Perfect Silence. Helen Fields
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door and sighed.
‘It’s almost as if you planned this for me on my first morning back to put me off,’ Salter said.
‘Did it only take eight months for you to forget how glamorous and fun our job is?’ Lively replied. ‘I’m driving. You watch our guest.’
Salter checked out Mikey Parsons in the mirror. His head was bouncing up and down like a nodding dog with the movement of the car, and the white butterfly strips over his dark red wound resembled ghoulish Halloween face painting. He looked up suddenly, his pupils contracting as his eyes met Salter’s.
‘Hey, Mikey,’ she said. ‘Do you know where you are?’
He let out a long, whistling breath. The sourness from his mouth wafted through the vehicle. Fighting his seatbelt, Mikey threw himself forward to bash his head against the dividing screen at the rear of Lively’s seat, then thrust backwards to slam the back of his skull into his headrest. Back and forwards he went, hammering his head harder each time.
‘Stop the car,’ Salter said. ‘We’ve got to do something before he knocks himself out.’
‘No, we’re getting back to the station. If he’s unconscious by then, we’ll call an ambulance. I’m not touching him while he’s like that and neither are you. We’ve no idea what he’s capable of with that crap in his system. An officer got bitten last month during an arrest.’
‘How much do you know about this Spice drug?’ Salter asked.
‘They market it as an alternative to cannabis, only it’s completely synthetic. Supposed to work like cannabinoids but the effects are more like LSD from what I’ve seen. Each brand is made using different chemicals so users don’t really know what they’re smoking.’
‘Where are they getting it?’ she asked, trying to ignore the thumping from the backseat.
‘Everywhere. It’s relatively cheap to produce, they package the stuff so that it looks professional, and it’s less risky than trying to import heroin or cocaine. We won’t get this stuff off the streets for a decade. Unless the anti-Zorro scares the crap out of users so badly, they stop.’
‘Come on Sarge, don’t go calling whoever did this the anti-Zorro. The press gets a whiff of that and it’ll be everywhere.’
Mikey turned his head to the side for one last monumental smash against his headrest and split all the butterfly stitches open. Blood began to pour down his cheek in horror movie tears fashion, and Salter raised her eyebrows at Lively.
‘Whoever’s in charge of the carpool these days isn’t going to like us very much,’ she said.
They got him into the station fairly easily until the desk sergeant stopped them. ‘You’re not expecting me to process him, are you? He’s straight for the hospital and you know it.’
‘He’s refused medical assistance, but he’s drunk and incapable, needs a few hours in the cells. We’ve got to try to take a statement from him when he’s slept it off,’ Lively said.
‘Stop the bleeding,’ the desk sergeant said. ‘Clean him up. If I’m satisfied, I’ll book him in. Good to see you back, Salter,’ he added.
Lively nodded at her. ‘You go upstairs and report in with the boss. Someone should be back by now. Update the team with what we’ve got. I’ll be up as soon as this mess is sorted. And have a cup of tea. That’s enough for your first morning back.’
‘Right you are, sir,’ Salter said, heading for the stairs.
‘Oh yeah, not arguing with me now. Let me do all the dirty work,’ Lively mumbled.
‘Stubborn and stupid are two different things, Sarge,’ Salter grinned as she disappeared.
As soon as she entered the upper corridor, the buzz from the incident room electrified the air. Ava Turner appeared from the opposite end of the hallway and stopped, a smile spreading slowly across her face as Salter walked closer.
‘Detective Constable Salter, good to have you back with MIT,’ Ava said.
‘Good to be back, ma’am,’ Salter said. ‘There’s a murder, I gather.’
‘Looks like it,’ Ava said. ‘I’m not warning you off any particular duties. You’ve been declared fit to return and that’s good enough for me. Just communicate with me if you need anything. Agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ Salter said. ‘And congratulations on the promotion ma’am, even if I am a few months late saying it.’
‘I’m not sure congratulations is the right word. Feels more like a punishment most days. Where have you and DS Lively been this morning?’
‘Someone slashed the letter Z into the face of a homeless drug addict. He was found this morning covered in blood. No witnesses, no leads. The victim’s taken a drug – it’s sufficiently strong that he’s still unaware of what’s happened to him. Lively’s downstairs now booking him in as a drunk and incapable, in the hope that we’ll be able to take a statement in a few hours.’
‘Spice?’ Ava asked.
‘That’s Lively’s theory. Paramedics seemed to agree,’ Salter said.
‘The city’s riddled with it,’ Ava said. ‘Let the drug squad know. If there’s a new batch on the streets that’s turning users violent, they ought to start checking it out.’
‘Salter,’ Callanach said, walking out of the incident room to join them. He hugged her and Salter blushed.
‘Sir,’ she said. ‘Nice to see you again, but I’d better get going. I need to write up my notes, and DS Lively’ll go off on one if there’s no coffee ready when he comes up from the cells.’ She hustled away into the kitchenette.
‘Wow,’ Ava said, turning to Callanach. ‘Are you okay? That’s the most emotional I’ve seen you since … ever, actually.’
‘You’re funny,’ Callanach said. ‘Should she be back so soon, though? After all she went through and the loss of the baby.’
‘Give her time,’ Ava said. ‘I suspect she’s pressing the bruise to see how much it hurts. Keep an eye on her. Let me know if you think there’s a problem. Salter’s a good detective. We need officers like her.’
DC Max Tripp poked his head out of the incident room and called to them. ‘Ma’am, we’ve got some background on Zoey Cole and her stepfather, Christopher Myers. You’re going to want to hear this straight away,’ he said.
Zoey Cole lay on a trolley beneath a sheet. Ava and Callanach stood silently, waiting for Jonty Spurr to join them. A worker from the domestic violence shelter had provided an up-to-date photo, and attended the previous evening to positively identify the body.
‘Good morning to you both,’ Jonty said, snapping on gloves as he entered. ‘Public records have Zoey as eighteen years of age and I would concur with that. In addition, I spoke to the shelter worker who attended yesterday.’ Jonty flicked through his notes. ‘Here we are, a Miss Sandra Tilly. She explained that Zoey had complained of pain in her hands from badly reset finger fractures on her left hand. I found three old breaks, I suspect from two separate incidents in time. In addition, four healed rib fractures and a probable broken nose, although that one is always harder to be sure about.’
‘Makes sense,’ Ava said. ‘Zoey was living at the shelter having left home. She claimed that her stepfather had been violent to her over a number of years. Mother was aware but did nothing to correct the situation.’
‘There was never a police investigation?’ Jonty asked.
‘No. Zoey didn’t want to press charges because her mother was