Morgan nodded. ‘Ah, teenage girls. It’s a tough time being a teenager, isn’t it. How old are you, Harrison?’
‘Almost eighteen. What should I do? Do I message Bronte and tell her what’s happened?’
‘No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I need to speak to Saul first; maybe you could find out where they are for me. Tell them you need them to come home, that there’s been an emergency.’
‘I can try; I don’t really want to be the one to tell her. How do you tell someone their mum hung themselves from the rope swing?’
‘That’s our job, we’ll take care of that. I just need you to try and get them to come back here, please.’
Another car pulled up and she recognised Detective Sergeant Ben Matthews from CID as he emerged.
‘You stay here, I’ll be back soon.’
Morgan crossed towards the DS, eager to introduce herself. She knew who he was but doubted he’d have a clue about her. She was probably just another name and number to him. As she got closer she heard him ask: ‘Who was first on scene?’
‘I was, Sarge.’
He turned to look at her and she felt her stomach tighten. She’d heard rumours that he was a miserable sod most of the time and didn’t take too kindly to younger officers who were fresh out of training.
To her surprise, though, he smiled, completely disarming her.
‘You are?’
‘5129 Morgan Brookes.’
‘Well, Morgan, talk me through what happened when you arrived, and tell me you didn’t drop your lunch over there.’
He was pointing to a trampled KFC bag.
She shook her head.
‘Not mine, sir, it must belong to the caller, Harrison Wright. When I got here, he was standing underneath the woman who was hanging from that branch.’
She pointed to where the frayed piece of rope was still swaying in the breeze.
‘She was clearly dead, but we tried our best to hold her up and take away some of the pressure from her neck.’
‘How did you know she was deceased, Morgan? Are you also a paramedic in your spare time?’
Morgan felt a burning sensation rush from her throat up to her forehead and knew she was probably the same colour as a cherry tomato.
‘I, she looked dead. Her eyes were fixed; she didn’t look as if she was breathing.’
Morgan could see Dan, who was standing behind the DS, grinning at her discomfort. He was such an idiot at times.
‘How long have you been out on independent control?’
‘This is my first shift on my own.’
‘And how many sudden deaths have you attended?’
‘Four: two suicides, one accident and a heart attack.’
‘But this is the first on your own, yeah?’
Morgan wanted the ground to swallow her up. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Why was he giving her a hard time?
‘Yes, Sarge.’
He smiled again.
‘It takes some getting used to, but you will. Look, all I’m trying to get at is we don’t call death unless it’s pretty obvious, like a body is missing a head or the person’s brains are splattered all over the inside of a car. I’ve turned up to scenes where a body has smelt as if it’s been decomposing for a week and then they’ve moved and still been breathing. Just, don’t presume, okay? At least not until you’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have.’
She nodded, feeling embarrassed at his lecture, but determined not to let him see.
‘Family?’
‘Yes, Sarge, the woman is Olivia Potter. She has a husband, Saul, and two daughters, Bronte and Beatrix. The family car isn’t here, and Harrison said there’s no one home. He’s sent Bronte a message asking her to tell her dad to come home.’
‘Call me Ben, you can drop the whole Sarge thing. It’s far too official for my liking.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Bronte and Beatrix Potter; I guess Olivia liked reading.’
Morgan smiled.
‘Have you checked the house?’
‘Not yet, I’ll do that now.’
‘What are your first impressions of the scene?’
‘Is this a trick question? Am I supposed to answer or is it an excuse for you to tell me off again?’
Ben laughed out loud, then obviously realising how inappropriate it was he lifted his hand and pretended to cough.
‘No, it’s not a trick question.’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know, she lives in this gorgeous house with her family, and Harrison described her as “happy and chilled”. Not the kind of woman you’d expect to do this kind of thing. Not many women kill themselves by hanging, do they?’
‘Not often, but some do. We need to locate her family and find out what her state of mind was before we make any judgement. It looks like a straightforward suicide to me.’
Morgan nodded and began to walk towards the house. She paused then turned to face Ben.
‘How did she get up high enough to do it? There was no stepladder. Harrison ran and got that out of the shed.’
Ben shrugged. ‘Maybe she was an excellent climber or used the rope swing. That tree doesn’t look too difficult to get up to that branch. But I’ll bear it in mind.’
Morgan left him and carried on walking up to the large detached house. It looked as if it had been recently painted the walls were so white, and the dusky pink front door made it stand out. Morgan loved it. It was modern yet quirky. There were pots of scented lavender and roses either side of the door and she inhaled the heady smell. It was such a perfect place to be able to call home. She tried the front door: it was secure. Then she walked the perimeter of the building checking the windows and other doors. All of them were shut tight and locked; there was no sign of life inside.
At the back door, Morgan turned and took in the view. She could hear a small creek at the end of the garden as it babbled along. The burning sun was setting against the backdrop of the Lakeland fells, giving out the last of its warmth. Olivia Potter lived in a beautiful place; she wondered what had happened to make her do such a terrible thing.
Two
The bright flash from the CSI camera illuminated the darkened garden. The temperature had dropped along with the last of the sunlight and there was a chill in the air. Morgan couldn’t take her gaze away from Olivia Potter; even in death she looked beautiful. Despite trying for the last hour Harrison hadn’t been able to make contact with Bronte. Ben had asked for a PNC check of all vehicles listed for the address and it had come back with two: a brand new Jaguar F-Pace, in white, and a slightly older Mercedes C-Class. The Mercedes was parked in the garage, its engine cold, but there was no sign of the Jag. An ANPR marker had been placed on the vehicle to find out where it was last seen. It was strange that they couldn’t find anyone to notify about Olivia, but it happened. For all they knew Saul could be on his way to visit family or take the girls somewhere and not even realise something was wrong. Morgan wondered if this was possible, that after being married for a long time like these two had been, for Saul not to have felt something at the moment of his wife’s death? Harrison had said he was sure there had been no plans for the family to go away though. She couldn’t stop the uneasy churning in her stomach that something wasn’t right; she wished she knew what.