Bloodstream Read Online Free Page A

hand to stop Rossi talking. ‘There’ll be plenty of time to catch me up. Right now, I think we should concentrate on the scene at hand, yeah?’
    Rossi grunted and stepped back as Murphy asked the forensics officer if he could come into the room.
    The wall came into view, giving him the chance to see the message scrawled across the pictures. Red ink, bleeding into the walls.
    NOTHING STAYS SECRET
     
    Murphy blinked and the message was different. A different house, a different time. He blinked again and was back in the box room.
    He was aware of Rossi on the edge of his vision. He looked at the words again, realising they weren’t red, but black.
    It wasn’t that place. Not the same. Different house, different time.
    ‘Christ, thought I was somewhere else then for a second,’ Murphy said, turning away from the wall.
    ‘
Merda,
your mum and dad’s house after . . . after they were, you know.’
    Murphy didn’t answer. He looked out towards the hall and shrugged off the memory. ‘Let’s get back downstairs.’
    Murphy passed by her as she let him go. Rossi took in the wall once more before following. At the bottom of the stairs, he took a proffered mask from a tech and kept walking.
    That’s just what you do.
    ‘In the back of the room, not the front. That’s interesting,’ Murphy said, standing in the doorway as Rossi joined him. A through lounge and dining room, the entrance in the middle. The bodies were to Murphy’s right. ‘Hidden away from the street just in case, I suppose. Not that it matters with those covers over the windows. Weird.’
    ‘The whole thing is a bit weird,’ Rossi said, looking towards the front of the house as she went past Murphy and into the room. ‘You all right, Mike?’
    DC Hale held up a hand towards them, standing near the front window. As far away as he could possibly get without drawing attention to himself, Murphy thought.
    ‘How long do you reckon?’
    Rossi shook her head. ‘Smelled worse. Can’t be that long. Couple of days maybe?’
    The smell of ammonia and decomposition was overpowering, sticking in the air so it felt thick and tangible, but Rossi was right. They had experienced much worse.
    Two bodies sitting upright on the chairs. Bound and gagged, their faces dropped into their chests. What was once life, now something indefinable, imperceptible. Empty. Murphy could just about make out the duct tape which had been used to keep them fastened to the chairs, frayed in places, pulled tight in others.
    ‘How long have they been missing now?’
    Murphy turned towards the voice of Dr Stuart Houghton, the pathologist who delighted Murphy ever so much.
    ‘Two, three days?’ Murphy replied, moving towards where Houghton was crouched. ‘I forget which. How can you tell it’s them?’
    ‘If it’s not, someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make us believe it is. Wallet found next to him with his ID in. The tattoos covering him are pretty much exactly what I’ve seen every time I visit a newsagent and peruse the magazine shelf. He’s wearing ripped jeans and I believe that’s a black T-shirt on the floor next to him. That’ll match what he was last seen in. She’s wearing black joggers and a red vest-top, which is yet another thing I’ve read in the paper the last couple of days more than once.’
    ‘Still . . . could be anyone.’
    Houghton sighed and raised himself from his haunches. ‘Yes, of course. I know that, you know that, even those idiots outside know that. But, I’m just trying to save you a bit of time. Look at his body. Look at the things he’s etched across himself. Do you think anyone else would be stupid enough to do that to themselves, David?’
    Murphy shuddered at the use of his first name. Very few people used it outside of his own home and it still rattled.
    ‘Okay, okay,’ Murphy said, raising his hands in defeat. ‘I understand. Hard to look past . . . well, this scene, to start recognising faces.’
    Houghton shrugged and went