Page 30 of Final Betrayal

‘Stop!’ she said. ‘Don’t move.’

‘What?’ McGlynn held both hands in the air.

‘Tweezers?’

He handed her a pair. She squeezed in beside him and nodded for his assistant to take photos as she lifted the victim’s hand in her own gloved one. On the ground lay a silver coin. Once the photographer had finished, she picked it up with the tweezers and held it to the light.

‘What do you think it is?’ she asked McGlynn.

He shook his head. ‘No idea. It’s not currency.’

‘Just plain silver, no engraving,’ she added. ‘About the size of a one-euro coin.’

She dropped the coin into a clear plastic evidence bag held out for her by McGlynn. With a Sharpie marker, he scribbled a code and details on the bag and handed it over to his assistant.

‘Looks like it was dropped after the girl was killed. No blood on top of it.’

‘Any sign of a phone or handbag?’ Lottie looked around the small room. The space seemed to close in on her as the fetid air clogged her throat.

‘No handbag,’ McGlynn said, lifting the girl’s hand once again to inspect her balled fist. ‘That’s a phone in there. But I daren’t remove it yet.’

‘Why not?’ Lottie asked.

‘Got in trouble before, with you know who.’ He laid the hand back on the ground.

Lottie knew he was talking about Jane Dore. As a result of decentralisation by the government, she was based about forty kilometres away, at Tullamore Hospital, where she conducted post-mortems.

‘Is she on her way?’

‘Later today, hopefully. She’s attending the High Court in Dublin this morning. Giving evidence in a case.’

So much for decentralisation, Lottie thought. ‘The minute you find any evidence, let me know. And give me a call once Jane arrives. I want that phone from the victim’s hand.’

‘Right, and I’ve yet to examine the second body,’ he said.

Lottie stared at the back of McGlynn’s hooded head. She had been so consumed with the discovery of Amy Whyte that she’d forgotten about the second victim.

‘In the other room,’ he said, and kept on working, measuring, lifting and probing.

Lottie edged out backwards and stood with Boyd on the cramped landing. After a moment, she moved towards the crime-scene tape at the entrance to the other room. She looked in and couldn’t stop her hand flying to her mouth to stifle the groan.

This female body was also lying face down. At first glance, Lottie could see that the feet had no shoes or sandals, and were filthy. The legs were streaked with fake tan and the black dress was short and rumpled around the buttocks. She couldn’t see any blood on the legs, but as she scanned the outstretched arms and the hands with their long acrylic nails, she noticed the pool of blood beneath the head of matted brown hair. A mobile phone lay beside the body, redundant with a cracked screen.

‘Have you been in here?’ she shouted back at McGlynn.

‘Just did a quick exam. Don’t go in,’ he warned.

‘I need to see her.’

‘And I’m saying wait until the state pathologist gets here.’

Lottie looked helplessly at Boyd. He shrugged and turned back to McGlynn. ‘Jim, give us two minutes. Come on, we need to see her.’

McGlynn grunted and put down his tools, then changed his gloves and moved out to the landing. He was shaking his head as he undid the tape and entered the room.

‘This young woman is around the same age as the other, and was killed in a similar manner. Stab wound to the neck.’ He pointed to the walls. ‘Plenty of arterial spray, so she was standing when he struck. I’d say he was behind her, holding her, and drew a sharp object, possibly a knife, across her throat. One cut. That’s all it took. She died quickly.’

‘And how long has she been dead?’

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