The Winter Foundlings Read Online Free Page B

reply, too interested in hearing her proposal.
    ‘Burns thinks you can help the investigation.’ So far her tone had remained neutral, never shifting to first gear.
    ‘But you don’t agree?’
    ‘It’s nothing personal. My first investigation was the Green Lanes case – forty-three rapes and eight murders. One of the bodies was so badly mutilated, even the photographer went off sick with stress. The shrink gave us the wrong steer. We’d have nailed the killer years sooner if we’d ignored him.’
    I made no attempt to defend my profession, because she was right; the consultant on the Green Lanes case was struck off for malpractice. But it was Goddard’s manner that fascinated me. Her calmness was impressive, but so far there had been no sign of warmth. It made me wonder what lurked under that slick surface. Perhaps her living room was a chaos of dirty wine glasses, takeaway cartons festering behind the sofa. Judging by the strength of her gaze, she was a woman on a mission, unwilling to let anything slow her down. I was so busy studying her that her next statement caught me unawares.
    ‘We found Sarah Robinson’s body last night.’
    She pressed a photo into my hand. It was a close-up of a young girl’s head and shoulders, her blonde hair thick with ice, lips frozen in a pale blue yawn. The Disney princess who’d starred in every news bulletin for days had become a ghost, puppy fat melted away, collarbones protruding from her skin.
    ‘It’s the same killer who took Kylie Walsh and Emma Lawrence,’ she said.
    ‘Are you sure? A committed serial killer wouldn’t normally wait so long.’
    ‘We’re certain – there are too many connections. Both the first two victims were taken from Camden. He dumped Kylie’s body in an alleyway, then Emma was found on waste ground nearby. They were starved to death, and he kept them in a freezer before dumping the bodies.’
    I took a moment to absorb the fact that the killer had stored the girls’ corpses before abandoning them. That degree of planning called for a rare level of self-awareness and premeditation.
    ‘Who was the SIO when the first two were found?’
    Tania’s expression soured. ‘He’s retired. The Murder Squad were running the show, drafting specialists in from all over. A lot slipped through the cracks.’
    ‘They didn’t get far?’
    ‘That’s putting it mildly. Three months after Emma’s body was found, the top man went off sick and got a payout to retire.’
    My sympathy for Burns increased. It sounded like he’d inherited one of London’s worst unresolved cases. I forced myself to focus on the pictures of Sarah Robinson’s body. She was dressed in a long white nightgown, lying inside a cardboard box that fitted her as neatly as a coffin. Her reed-thin legs were arranged side by side, arms folded across her chest, like a statue on a medieval grave. My gaze settled on another photo of her bare feet. Her toes were raw with frostbite, and a tag had been attached to her right ankle. The number twelve was printed on it in thick black ink, as though she was a museum exhibit.
    ‘Were the first two tagged as well?’
    She nodded. ‘And the dresses were the same.’
    I closed my eyes for a second. By the time I was this child’s age, I’d become an expert on hiding places: the cupboard under the stairs, behind the coal bunker in the cellar. I’d squeezed behind every wardrobe and under every bed, waiting for my father’s rage to subside. But it was nothing compared to this.
    ‘Was she abused?’ I asked.
    ‘We won’t know till the PM. But he’s getting more violent; she’s covered in bruises.’
    ‘How did she die?’
    ‘Cold or starvation probably. They don’t think she’d been in the deep freeze, but it looks like she was kept outside.’
    I put down the photos. ‘I still don’t understand why you’re here.’
    Goddard’s calm stare settled on my face. ‘We’d like you to interview Louis Kinsella.’
    ‘Why?’ The idea made