Obscured

Chapter 1

Detective Sergeant Lucy Fuller swallowed the last bite of her chocolate digestive, she needed something to wash it down now. Mug in hand she got to her feet ambling in the direction of the small kitchen on the far side of the room. The office was busy with most desks occupied by uniformed officers, she was enjoying the contrast of a slower pace of life without DCI Barrel standing over her, breathing down her neck all day.

A familiar face appearing in the kitchen doorway put pay to any quietude she’d been feeling. She wasn’t exactly in PC Andy Tanner’s good books after she had turned him down in the pub last week. She’d made it clear she didn’t date people who worked at the same station, especially male colleagues, or men of any kind for that matter. Tanner had been polite about it, but she knew it would make waves. A panic swept over her as she met his eyes, the office seemed to fall silent around them.

Andy’s eyebrows raised, his mouth opened but no words came or at least nothing that she heard.

Lucy’s phone blared from her pocket jolting her to life. She answered it without even looking at the caller id. “DS Fuller,” Anything to avoid interaction with Tanner.

“Stop trying to make out you’re busy, Fuller. I know you miss me when I’m away.”

Lucy squinted one eye in frustration as she turned back towards her desk. She hated the fact that he was always one step ahead of her. In his absence she’d been mainly tasked with tidying up the paperwork on the cases they’d been working on. The price of being a bagman, or woman in her case. “Boss. How’s it going in court?” This was only the second day of the complex people-trafficking case he’d worked on just before she was transferred to his charge. It had taken the CPS over two years to get it to trial. She perched on her seat ready for his latest grievances.

“Shit, as expected. Anyway, I’ve got a job for you. A body’s been found just outside Kingsford. It’s our case apparently.”

“What?” Lucy sat up a little straighter, was he on his way back. “Ours? Why are they giving it to us?” In the two years she’d worked with Barrel, she’d barely been trusted to tie her shoelaces let alone run a case on her own. As part of a small CID team they wouldn’t be called in unless there was a question regarding the manner of death, which meant a possible murder case. She mentally rubbed her hands together then felt terrible about it.

“Stop complaining. At least you’ll be sleeping in your own bed tonight. Kingsford’s just up the road. I’ll still be stuck in Slough of all fucking places.”

“Why us, though? Why not DCI Thompson?” Lucy queried again. Kingsford was sandwiched between two much bigger towns which housed far larger police stations and CID teams. West Heath usually covered Kingsford. Officers from her station in Woodley were rarely called in.

“He’s tied up with that drugs case. They’re pretty stretched after Porter’s heart attack last month.”

Shit! The funeral they’d attended two weeks ago seemed so far away now; life moved on so quickly. Lucy made a mental note to ask about Porter’s family when she got to the scene.

“Anyone would think you don’t want to be a copper or something.”

Barrels words echoed in her ear. “What-no-I just don’t like stepping on people’s toes, that’s all.”

“Get used to it.” Barrel let out a breath down the phone. “Get over to Kingsford, I’m stuck here so I need you to start the leg work on this. I’ll join you over there as soon as I can, hopefully in the next day or two.”

“Okay, boss. Where am I going?” Lucy grabbed a pen to take down the information.

“Combe Farm, it’s on the Stype Hill Road. Keep me updated with any developments.”

Muffled conversation came down the phoneline but her thoughts were elsewhere at this point; she’d been left to her own devices and her mind went blank as she tried to figure out her next move. She’d worked cases involving death before, mostly drug and drink related. Thankfully, murders were still rare in the area.

“And, Fuller …”

Lucy blinked herself alert as she waited for the reprimand that was surely coming.

“Don’t fuck this up.”

His voice took on a familiar firm timbre. “Yes, boss.” She bit down on her bottom lip to prevent her from saying anything else.

An hour later, she was driving under a police cordon, held aloft by a uniformed officer, several familiar faces from the local press glanced her way. The circus had already arrived, thankfully, they were being kept at bay.

She parked up alongside two other police vehicles in a small courtyard and held up a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she got out of her car. Scanning the immediate area as she moved to the boot, she saw that there was no-one in sight. She took the opportunity to take a breath and get her head in the game. She hated to even think it, but this was an opportunity for her to prove herself, to finally step out of Barrel’s shadow. Her mind fizzed as she pulled out her crime scene gear, grateful that the eyes of the media were in the distance outside the farm boundary.

Lucy threw her jacket in the boot before struggling into the clean white jumpsuit, unsure of what she was walking into. Barrel had given barely any details, probably on purpose, she thought now. She just hoped it wasn’t a gory one. She’d had trouble eating after the last time. Who knew a dog walker colliding with a train could make quite so much mess? She swallowed down that unpleasant thought as she zipped up her protective suit.

“Hey, Fuller, when he said he was sending his best man, I didn’t realise it would be you.”

Lucy turned to glare at the uniformed PC before raising her middle finger in reply. “If you weren’t so shit at your job, Laxton, I wouldn’t need to be here!” She’d crossed paths with Laxton at several crime scenes over the years. He wasn’t exactly backwards in coming forwards.

She closed her boot before turning to speak to him more formally, feeling the need to soften the blow of her arrival. “How’s Porter’s family doing?” .

Laxton pursed his lips, before letting out a breath. “Not great. We’re trying to rally round where we can. It’s a big adjustment for them.”

Lucy let the words hang between them as she looked down at her wellies. She waited a few beats before asking, “We’re outside?”

“Yeah, the field behind the main barn, there.” Laxton indicated towards a large building edging the far side of the courtyard they were stood in.

As she looked around, Lucy realised Combe Farm was no longer a working farm. It had been gentrified somewhat. Muddy surfaces had been replaced with block paving and bark chippings. The double fronted farmhouse hand been extended and upgraded for pleasure rather than necessity with an extravagant sliding roof on the left-hand side. She glanced back towards the barn Laxton had indicated earlier, it too had been given a new lease of life with fresh hardwood cladding. New windows had been installed indicating a mezzanine floor inside.

She slipped off her shoes and left them under the shelter of her car. The wellies were cool inside as her feet half-filled the cavernous space.

“Pathologist’s here,” Laxton announced as they walked between the two buildings, nearing the scene, the top of a mini digger and a mountain of soil protruded over sloping land, three uniformed officers were milling about on the open scrubland beyond the buildings. Her wellies clunked as she walked; she needed to add a thick pair of socks to her scene-of-crime supplies.

“What have we got?” Lucy finally asked.

“Body was found in an old well, near the boundary over there,” Laxton supplied.

Shit! She hoped they’d got it out already. She didn’t fancy climbing into a well.

Lucy followed Laxton’s nod, relieved when the tops of two white tents came into view. At least something had been set up. Barrel must have barked his orders from Slough. She hoped Dr Reed wasn’t inside one of them, he always managed to set her on edge when he was at a crime scene. “Who found the body?”

“Contractor called it in when they dug into the side of the well. It was buried below the surface. Got out to have a look, saw the skull and freaked.”

“Skull, as in skeleton? Not a body-body?” Lucy tried not to sound too grateful that there would be less gore, hopefully.

“Nope, sounds pretty old from what I’ve heard.”

With her elevated view Lucy glanced back towards the bustling entrance. “We need to keep a lid on this.”

“On it.” Laxton replied.

Lucy considered the odds of it being an ancient find from hundreds of years ago and out of her remit. Typical; first solo job and she was already writing it off as ancient remains. Maybe Barrel’s comment was right on the mark; she didn’t want to be a copper. Six years in uniform had taught her one thing: she wanted to be a detective.

“What were the contractors digging for?”

“Owners wanted a new outbuilding, accommodation for some retreat or something. Contractors were digging out for the foundations.”

Shouldn’t existing features be noted on the plans? A question for the contractor.

“What about the property owners?” Lucy queried. There was a distinct lack of civilians peeking out of windows, watching events unfold.

“The Carters. Away in London. They’re on their way back now. Apparently, they didn’t know the well was there either.”

Lucy heard the disbelief in Laxton’s tone. Kingsford, like many surrounding towns, was roughly an hour’s drive from London and overrun with semi-residential commuters. Depending on how much time they spent at Combe Farm, it was possible they knew nothing. Surely it would be the type of feature covered in a buyer’s survey.

“How long have they lived here?” She unzipped her suit, taking out her notebook to scribble down a few items to follow up.

“Ten years.”

“What about the previous tenants?” she asked without even looking up. Someone knew the well existed. Maybe they also knew it was the perfect place to hide a body.

“Jesus, Fuller, you know you’re here to do all that shit now. PC Springer’s on the phone getting you their details.” Laxton’s bluster was all bravado; he was just taking advantage of Barrel being off the scene.

“Okay. Good.” She grinned, although she had no idea who PC Springer was.

Lucy was approaching the first tent when she noticed a large, almost circular object lying on the ground a few feet away from the tent. She stepped closer, crouching to take a better look. “Is this what was covering the well?”

“It’s not true what they say is it? You really are a detective.”

She glared at Laxton before returning her attention to the thick metal slab. The edge was coarsely cut, the exposed surface smooth and brown but not rusty. A thick layer of soil and roots from vegetation covered most of it. The contractors’ gouging machinery had disturbed a section on one edge, leaving a deep scratch in the surface.

Lucy got to her feet. Leaving Laxton behind, she pulled aside the sheeting and stepped inside. It was empty except for a folding table on the far side. She spotted a box of latex gloves, grabbed two and quickly struggled into them, not wanting to be reprimanded by anyone.

The surface of the table was covered with bagged-up items. She figured they had been found in the well with the body or at least in the vicinity. At this point, it was impossible to say what was relevant. She stooped over the table to get a look at the contents. A pair of small, dirty, white trainers sat in one corner, maybe those of a woman or a child. She couldn’t make out the brand, but they looked pretty scuffed up. She swallowed hard. She slowly closed her eyes as the realisation set in. Jesus, where was Barrel when she needed him? She wasn’t ready for this. Murder cases involving children marred some careers and ended others. Any relief she’d felt at the news of skeletal remains disappeared.

She took a deep breath. I still have a job to do here, she reminded herself and considered some of the first questions to be answered. How did the victim get here? Were they lured here, considering the remote location? Were they killed here? If not, where? How did the perpetrator get here? With that in mind, she opened her eyes and moved further along the table, tattered clothing filled three more bags. She dragged her gaze over other bagged items, ending on a small, light-blue, oblong shape. An image of what looked like Tony the Tiger was just visible through the layer of dirt. Black print at one end confirmed her suspicions – FROSTIES. A red button was located next to the lettering. A treasured toy at one point. Maybe it could help identify the owner.

Lucy pulled out her phone and took a few pictures for her own reference. The label on the evidence bag stated that it had been found in the front-left pocket of the victim’s jeans.

“DS Fuller?”

Lucy jumped at the voice behind her, cringing at the sharp pain in her back as she straightened abruptly. She recognised the voice immediately before she turned around. “Dr Reed.” She tried to keep her tone light despite being faced with his looming figure. His tall, usually slim frame, lost in the baggy white forensic suit, was stooped slightly under the restricted height of the forensics tent, making him a dead ringer for the Michelin Man. His bald head and round, metal-rimmed glasses certainly didn’t help his case. They’d met a handful of times over the last year or so, mostly for accidental or drug related deaths. Each time he’d managed to unnerve her with his unwavering stare and hulking presence.

“DCI Barrel’s case, is it?”

“It is.” When he can find the time to turn up, that is. “What can you tell me so far?”

Reed looked down at the table in front of her. “As you can see, some of the clothing is pretty tattered and damp. We’ll need to dry it out before we can get a good look at it.”

Lucy waited a few beats before asking her next question. “And the identification of the body?”

Reed stood back from the table glaring at her as he adjusted the sleeve of his suit. “There’s a lack of soft tissue due to decay. You’ll need a forensic anthropologist to work on this one.”

“You can’t tell me anything?” Lucy pressed. Knowing full well Barrel would be on her case for information as soon as possible.

Reed looked at her for a moment as if weighing up his options. Reaching out a single gloved finger he pushed his glasses up his nose. “All I can tell you is it’s a young male. There’s some damage to the bones, which may or may not be the cause of death. There’s at least one animal down there too.”

Animal? Lucy refocussed on the human aspect … may or may not be the cause of death. “What sort of damage?”

“Fractures. There’s too much surface debris to say if the damage was before or after he was put down there. Unfortunately, one of the stones on the edge was pushed down the well when it was discovered. I’ll need to check but it may have caused some of the damage.”

Lucy nodded as she made notes for her next conversation with Barrel. “What type of animal is it?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a dog. Could have gone in first, and he tried to rescue it.”

Lucy said nothing. Someone had covered the well at some point, why would you do that if it was an innocent accident? Regardless the death would immediately be treated as suspicious as it was a child and there was no identification on the body.

“There’s a Dr Chadwick just joined Reading University. I’ve worked with her before; she’s exceptionally good. I’ll give her a call when I get back to the office. Most importantly, she’s worked with the police before.”

Great! Another doctor. Reed was bad enough. “Thank you. Can I ask how long it’ll take the forensic anthropologist to identify the victim?”

Reed’s face scrunched up as he blew out a breath. “Well, it’s a time-consuming process and Dr Chadwick does have teaching responsibilities.” He pushed up his glasses again.

Lucy tuned out focussing on the artifacts on the table again as Reed continued to educate her on the intimacies of biological profiling, healed injuries and DNA extraction.

“Of course, they’ll need something to compare them with to get a positive identification.”

“Can’t they just get DNA from the hair?” She knew there were numerous examples of old cases where hair had been used to identify a body and even exonerate suspects in old cases.

Reed took a deep breath. “The body has extensive decay, and the poor environmental conditions where it was stored are making it difficult to recover some items. Intermittent water, silt and soil have potentially removed some materials. If the hair was short, it may be difficult to find in these conditions I’m afraid.”

“The well, it wasn’t disused? Dried up?” Someone had to have noticed if a working well was suddenly covered over.

“According to one of the tecs, there was some evidence of different water level lines inside. The underground aquifer could have been compromised at some point before the body was inserted.”

Lucy nodded and made a mental note to google how wells work when she got back to the office. “How deep is the well?”

“Oh, err, about twenty-five feet or so. Regarding the hair DNA, without the hair being intact, Dr Chadwick may prefer to use an alternative method of identification to prevent any mistakes.”

“I see.” Lucy nodded. “Can I take a look?” She didn’t want to, but she knew she had to.

Dr Reed stepped back to the entrance. Separating the white sheeting, he indicated for her to go first. She walked the short distance to the second tent and pushed her way inside. A light mounted on a tripod dazzled her as she stepped into the enclosed space. Blinking as she looked away she noticed a yawning crater lay open in the ground to her left. Yellow cables trailed down into the abyss below, a soft white glow emanating from the aperture. The circular edge was ragged on one side. Deep cuts in the ground led to the well edge where…