Beautiful Death by Fiona McIntosh Page A

way it looks. But I have to make a phone call — an urgent one — and then I have to get down to the crime scene before this girl’s family does. You stay here and finish up. You seem to be handling it really well. It doesn’t need both of us.’
    ‘Why?’

    ‘Because I say so,’ he said, leaving.
    ‘No, sir. I mean why do you have to get to the scene before the family does?’
    He pulled at the door, turning briefly. ‘Because I know the victim,’ and he was gone before Kate could gather up her shock and respond.

6.
    Jack stared, transfixed by the familiar van. SOCO people were crawling all over it as Sharpe had warned. From a distance he could see one of his own team, Malik, keeping a close watch on their progress and liaising with the homicide crew. He stepped back into a doorway and rang the young detective, watched him reach into his pocket for his phone.
    ‘DS Khan.’
    ‘It’s Hawksworth. I’m trying to find Brodie,’ he said, doing his best not to lie.
    ‘Hi sir, um, he’s been here at the scene with me. We’ve got a name for the victim, sir, have you heard?’
    ‘I have. Where is Brodie?’
    ‘He’s accompanying the victim’s parents back to their place in Hadley Wood and heading straight back to the ops room. Is he not answering his mobile, sir? Because I spoke to him on it just a few minutes ago.’
    ‘Not at the moment, Mal,’ he lied, reflecting heprobably had switched it off out of courtesy to Lily’s family. ‘How are they holding up?’
    ‘Not good, sir, as you might expect. That’s why he’s gone with them. They wanted to go straight to the morgue but he persuaded them to be escorted home first.’
    ‘They’ve hardly begun the post-mortem. It will be hours yet. Have they found anything in the van?’
    ‘Nothing yet, sir. But you know SOCO, everything takes an age. The photographer’s just on his way down now.’
    ‘Okay, good job, Mal. Catch you later,’ Jack said, dragging in cold air to keep himself alert, prevent himself from falling prey to the rush of emotion that was pummelling him.
    He needed to call Stu Appleton from the homicide team and he really should call his boss, but he knew Malcolm Sharpe would not give him the support he needed on this, not at this moment, not until he’d made a different call.
    Jack’s jaw was rigid as he punched in the number. ‘It’s me,’ he said as soon as it was answered. He didn’t wait for a response. ‘I need to see you.’
    ‘Something up?’
    ‘I need to see you now.’ His voice was terse.
    He heard the sigh. ‘Okay, no problem. Er, at Empress, or —’
    ‘No. I’ll see you at the Blackbird. Give me half an hour.’
    ‘Are you okay?’
    ‘No.’ He rang off. Took one last look at Lily’s van, closed his eyes briefly to fix her beautiful face in his mind, banish the memory of its ruin, then began running towards Whitechapel tube station. Taxis were few and slow at this time of the morning;

    besides, he wanted the ground to swallow him up and he wanted to be anonymous with no chatty taxi driver discussing politics or London traffic.
    Fourteen stops later he alighted at busy Earls Court, a friendly face waiting at the ticket barriers when he showed his warrant. His hand was instantly caught in a firm shake, his arm squeezed tightly. He’d never been so glad to see his huge friend.
    ‘Geoff, thanks for coming. Nice beard.’
    Amused, green eyes clouded with concern. ‘You look shaken, matey. Am I about to hear something really bad?’
    Jack felt his bile rising again but he swallowed the urge angrily. It didn’t go unnoticed by his pal, Geoff Benson, who frowned now, and placed a big, bearlike arm around Jack’s shoulders. ‘I think you need a drink.’
    ‘I’m on duty.’
    ‘I’ll vouch it was for medicinal purposes. You’re ghost white, what’s happening?’
    Jack shook his head. ‘I need some air. I’ll tell you everything at the Blackbird.’
    ‘All right, let’s go. Are you sure you’re going