The Night Stalker Read Online Free

released the victim’s head, the chin coming to rest on the bare chest. ‘The evidence points to asphyxiation, but I’ll need to determine that the bag wasn’t placed over his head post-mortem.’
    ‘A sex game gone wrong? Autoasphyxiation?’ asked Moss.
    ‘Hypothetically, yes. But we can’t rule out foul play.’
    ‘Time of death?’ asked Erika, hopefully. She was now sweating profusely under her crime scene overalls.
    ‘Don’t push it,’ said Isaac. ‘I won’t be able to give you a time of death until I’ve had a closer look and opened him up. Extreme heat or cold slows putrefaction: in the case of the heat in this room, it’s drying out the body. You can see the flesh has started to discolour.’ He pointed to where the skin was blooming in shades of green around the abdomen. ‘This could indicate he has been here for a few days, but, as I say, I’ll need to perform the post-mortem.’
    Erika cast her eye around the room. A long wardrobe of heavy wood lined the wall next to the door, and in the nook of the bay window there was a matching dresser with a mirror. To the left of the window was a tall set of drawers. Every surface was clear: there were no books or ornaments, or any of the general detritus that accumulates in a bedroom. It was very neat. Almost too neat.
    ‘Was he married?’ asked Erika.
    ‘Yes. The wife is no longer on the scene. They’ve been separated for a few months,’ said Moss.
    ‘It’s very tidy, for a newly single man,’ said Erika. ‘Unless the attacker cleaned up,’ she added.
    ‘What? Had a vacuum round before he scarpered?’ asked Moss. ‘I wish he’d pay me a visit. You should see my place.’
    Despite the heat, Erika saw a couple of the crime scene officers working around the body hide their smiles.
    ‘Moss, not the right time.’
    ‘Sorry, boss.’
    ‘I think the arms were tied post-mortem,’ said Isaac, gently indicating the wrist area with his latex-gloved finger. The skin around the armpits was stretched in white lines against the shades of waxy skin underneath. ‘There’s very little abrasion on the wrists.’
    ‘So he was already in bed when the attack happened?’ asked Erika.
    ‘Possibly,’ replied Isaac.
    ‘There’s no discarded clothes. He could have undressed normally for bed and tidied them away,’ said Moss.
    ‘So someone could have been hiding under the bed or in the wardrobe, or could have come through the window?’ asked Erika, blinking as sweat ran down her forehead into her eyes.
    ‘That’s for you to find out,’ said Isaac.
    ‘Yes, it is. Lucky me,’ replied Erika.

    E rika and Moss came downstairs to the open-plan living area, where a team of crime scene technicians was working on the rest of the house. One of the technicians approached them. Erika hadn’t met him before. He was in his early thirties, with a handsome face and a high Nordic forehead. Sweat glistened through his blond hair. When he reached Erika, he looked up, realising how tall she was at just over six foot.
    ‘DCI Foster? I’m Nils Åkerman, crime scene manager,’ he said. He had a slight Swedish accent under his perfect English.
    ‘You’re new?’ asked Moss.
    ‘To London? Yes. To murder and mayhem, no.’ Nils had a pleasant, handsome face and, like many people who dealt with death and horror on a daily basis, seemed respectfully detached, with a dark sense of humour.
    ‘Good to meet you,’ said Erika. Their latex gloves crackled as they shook hands.
    ‘What do you know already?’ he asked.
    ‘Take us through it from the top,’ said Erika.
    ‘Okay. So the mother shows up around seven-thirty to feed the cat. Lets herself in with a key. The power had been switched off at the mains when she arrived. And it looks as though it had been off for a few days. The contents of the fridge and freezer were decaying.’
    Erika looked over to the large stainless steel fridge-freezer, where a couple of brightly coloured child’s finger paintings were attached