A crime scene photographer took a picture and the tent was filled with a flash and a high-pitched squeal. Isaac Strong stood silently on one of the boxes. He nodded at them all.
‘Who found her?’ asked Erika.
‘A group of kids who’d climbed the fence for a dare.’
‘Where are they now?’
‘Your officers are with them at the community centre over the road. We’ve already taken DNA.’
‘Did they see anything?’ asked Erika.
‘No. It was dark. One of the boys tripped over her body and fell.’
‘He must have been terrified,’ said Moss, looking down at Ivy.
‘Her nose is broken. I think her cheekbone also. There are extensive ligature marks on her neck,’ said Isaac, crouching down and gently pulling down the folds of Ivy’s sweater. ‘I also think four ribs are broken; I’ll have more idea about internal damage when I conduct my autopsy. She was carrying a hundred pounds in cash. The notes were folded inside her bra.’
‘So we could rule this out as a random assault or robbery?’ asked Moss.
‘I don’t want to be drawn on that until I’ve done my autopsy. But obviously when a body is left with money, it indicates that robbery wasn’t on the assailant’s mind. Sex was, though. On a first examination, there is semen present in her vagina.’
‘Ivy was a well-known prostitute,’ explained Moss.
‘Perhaps whoever did this had lured her with the cash?’ added Peterson.
‘We can’t assume because of that, that the sex was consensual,’ said Isaac sternly. ‘There is extensive bruising around the pelvic area.’
‘Where are her arms?’ Erika asked, dreading for a moment that they’d been hacked off.
‘Her arms are bound behind her back,’ said Isaac. One of his assistants approached and carefully lifted Ivy from the mud; both arms had been pulled tight under her body. They were slick with mud and stones. Isaac wiped at her wrists with a gloved finger.
‘See? They've been bound using a plastic tie, often used in industry or product packaging.’
‘What about her shoes?’ asked Erika, seeing Ivy’s feet, which were mud-splattered and swollen with a map of broken veins and long dirty toenails.
‘We found them in the mud,’ said Isaac. ‘There are also patches of hair missing from each temple. They look to have been pulled out at the root.’
He tilted Ivy’s head and indicated large angry pink patches dotted with dried blood. The photographer crouched in and took a photo. As the flash illuminated her skin, it appeared almost translucent, with threads of blue veins on her forehead.
‘Andrea’s hair was pulled out,’ said Erika, softly.
‘Time of death?’ asked Peterson.
‘Internal body temperature leads me to say she hasn’t been dead for very long, but the body has been exposed to the freezing temperatures and rain, so I’ll need to clarify this.’
‘We’ve got officers doing a door-to-door and searching the area,’ said Peterson.
They watched as the photographer worked, taking pictures of Ivy from every angle. A young woman assisting Isaac gently placed plastic bags over Ivy’s hands to preserve any DNA evidence. Isaac moved to a hastily set-up bench in the corner of the tent, returning to them with a clear evidence bag.
‘This is what we found on her: a bunch of keys, six condoms, one hundred pounds in cash, a credit card in the name of Matthew Stephens, and a phone number on a scrap of paper.’
‘That’s your number,’ said Moss, shooting Erika a look.
‘I was talking to Ivy the other night in connection to Andrea’s murder; she had given me some information but I think she was scared. I said she could call me . . .’ Erika’s voice tailed off with the realisation that the information had died with Ivy.
‘Did she try to call you?’ asked Peterson.
‘I don’t know. I’ll need to check my phone.’
She hadn’t checked her messages since before the press conference. She excused herself and went back through the partition and to the doorway of the tent. A figure was working its way along the bank. When it came closer, Erika saw it was DCI Sparks.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Erika. ‘You’re not in the first response unit.’
‘I’ve been asked by Chief Superintendent Marsh to take over as Senior Investigating Officer,’ said Sparks. Despite the gravity of the situation, his glee was bubbling under the surface.
‘What? At eleven pm at the scene of a murder?’ asked Erika.