‘Standard procedure. I’d also like you to think carefully about anyone else you saw on your walk to work.’
That was easy because there was only the one colleague.
‘We don’t know how long Millie was there for. I couldn’t tell whether rigor had set in or not, so I doubt the murderer would be hanging around for me to pin point.’
‘I wasn’t asking for your professional opinion,’ Walker said.
‘I’m a forensic psychologist. It’s what I do.’
‘I appreciate that, but I’m a detective, and it’s my job to investigate. The name of the colleague, please.’
‘Geraldine Walters from the criminology department. As for my movements over the weekend, I was at home working on my latest research project.’
‘Can anyone vouch for you?’
‘My partner, Stephen Grant, was there for some of the time. Other than that, no. Unless you check my laptop. My saved documents will have the time and date on them.’
‘Thank you. That won’t be necessary. I’m just doing my job, as I’m sure you appreciate,’ Walker replied.
‘Of course. Now, if we’ve finished, I have to get to class.’
‘Yes, that’s all for now. Don’t forget the list of names.’
‘I won’t. You’ll have it within the hour.’
George walked away, her head a mass of conflicting thoughts. She got DCI Walker had a job to do, but didn’t she realise George had found a dead body? A body of someone she knew. And—
She came to an abrupt halt and turned to look back at the crime scene. There had to be something she could do. There just had to be. She couldn’t sit back and watch. Even if Walker did dismiss her view on the body and its posing. But to be of any help, she needed more information. She’d speak to the other students in Millie’s tutorial group once she’d broken the news to them, which she was dreading. Then she’d visit Claire Dexter to see what other information she could glean.
Chapter Five
Whitney pinned up a photo of the victim on the board and wrote “Millie Carter” beneath it.
‘Attention, everyone,’ she called out over the chatter in the incident room. The team were huddled in small clusters, many of them standing, leaning against the desks. She waited a few seconds for the noise to die down. ‘Our victim. Twenty-one-year-old Millie Carter. Third-year psychology student at Lenchester University. Suspicious death.’
‘Do we know how she died, guv?’ DC Ellie Naylor called out from the centre of the room, where she was sitting behind a computer screen. Ellie’s research skills were extraordinary, and Whitney had pushed to get her permanently on the team. Ellie had also been trained to use the self-service kiosk for extracting data from mobile phones, which meant they could access data immediately, instead of waiting for the digital forensic unit to do it for them. It was brand new technology. Whitney kept well away from it; it was way too modern for her.
‘Early indications are strangulation,’ Whitney replied. ‘We’re waiting on the pathologist’s findings.’
‘Any sexual interference?’ Ellie asked.
‘Again, waiting for the pathologist. I wouldn’t be surprised, as her clothes had been removed and replaced, as we can see from the photo on her phone. Matt, do we have a copy of the photo?’
‘Here, guv.’ He passed it to her.
Whitney placed it on the board. ‘This is the victim. The murderer took it with her phone and saved it as wallpaper. At the moment, we have no idea where it was taken.’
‘Dr Cavendish has emailed in the list of students you asked for. She’s meeting with them all this morning. Shall we send someone along?’ Matt asked.
They would, but it wouldn’t be Whitney. She’d had enough of the stuck-up doctor to last a lifetime.
‘Yes. You can go. You need the forensic psychology department. Interview the students individually and see what you can come up with. In particular, if she had a boyfriend.’
‘Ellie, I want you to check out any CCTV at the university and any on roads leading there. Also, check the victim’s phone and social media accounts. Find out what you can about her friends.’
‘Yes, guv.’
‘Do you think we should ask Dr Cavendish in to help?’ Matt asked.
‘Has she been talking to you?’
‘No. It was just a thought,’ he replied.
‘She’s already offered her opinion, and we don’t need it. She’s not a detective. As we all know, the majority of murders are committed by someone close to the victim. So, we can do without any complicated theories she’ll have. Let’s find out all we can about the boyfriend, if there is one.’
‘Okay,’ Matt said.
‘I’m going to see the family. They live about half an hour away. We have to let them know before it gets back to them through other channels. Frank, you’re with me. Sue and Doug, I want background checks on the uni staff, particularly those who taught the victim. Also, check if any sex offenders have been recently released into the area.’
She picked up her bag from under the table and was about to leave, when she glanced up and saw Jamieson open the door and walk in. Crap. What the fuck did he want?
‘Good morning, team,’ Jamieson said, striding up to her desk.
‘Sir,’ Whitney replied.
‘Where are we so far?’
Whitney tensed. Was this how the investigation was going to go? He usually didn’t interfere, so now because of her last fuck up he thought he would.
‘Everything’s under control, sir. I’m going to see the family. As yet, they don’t know about their daughter’s death.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
Out the corner of her eye Whitney noticed Matt and Frank exchange glances, smirks crossing their faces.
‘Won’t be necessary, sir. I’m taking Taylor.’
‘I’m sure he could be better used elsewhere,’ Jamieson insisted, his lips in a thin smile which didn’t reach up to his eyes. ‘We’ll go in my car.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she replied through gritted teeth. ‘Frank, you go with Matt and collect statements.’
Whitney left with Jamieson, following him to the car park and his brand-new Volvo. She didn’t resent him the car. Actually, she did. She was fed up of driving around in an old Ford Focus. She’d have loved a new car, but she needed her money for Tiffany and to help out her mum, who had her hands full looking after Rob and wasn’t able to work.
Whitney hated having to be the one to break the news about Millie’s death to the family, but she couldn’t leave it to Jamieson. If he spoke to the family the way he spoke to her, then it would be a total cock up.
Jamieson talked non-stop during the journey. Whitney learnt all about the work he’d done before joining the force. How good he was, and how he’d managed to save his previous company millions of pounds by implementing a reporting system, capturing everything. She had to stifle a yawn on several occasions. Not helped by the fact she’d missed out on her second cup of coffee. She timed her caffeine fixes. Every three hours was optimum.
‘I think it’s best if I explain to the family about their daughter,’ Whitney said as they drew up outside the Carter home, a detached house on a small estate.